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"Morning!"
The greeting is loud, punctuating the air with an enthusiasm and vibrancy that reflect the flowers that sit on display. A dark green bushel pops up from behind the counter but not without a grunt and cry of pain, as Midoriya stands from his crouched spot while rubbing his scalp. With the vibrant colors dotted among the greenery, his wild tufts could easily blend into the hanging junipers that dangle from above him.
"Morning, Kirishima," he responds, squinting an eye while still rubbing at the sore spot. It had stung, hitting his head against the granite counter. And though it hurts, he tries a smile through a grimace, one that has Kirishima's booming laughter echo around the small shop.
His visitor sets down the plastic tray of coffee, setting each styrofoam cup on the counter, then slides the tray to his side. Leaning forward, he raises his brow at the dirt-ridden ground underneath Midoriya's boots. "What'cha doin'?" he asks, nodding downwards.
Suddenly, without warning, someone else pops into existence next to Midoriya, causing Kirishima to slightly jump at the apparition. Uraraka stretches her arms upward, letting her body jut forward in an attempt at relaxing her spine. A loud 'pop' resonates from her back, and she slumps forward in relief.
"Hey, Kirishima," she greets tiredly. There's a streak of dirt on her cheek, and the gloves on her hand are smeared with dirt. Midoriya doesn't look any better with his arms dusted in soil.
Their friend raises a brow at them, and a knowing smile grows on his face as he crosses his arms. "So," he starts, dragging out the word with a suggestive tone. At first, the pair don't quite understand, but Uraraka catches on first and shoves her arms forward, shaking her hands rapidly in denial.
"No, no, no," she shoots at him, squeezing her eyes shut; each progressive 'no' gets louder and louder with emphasis. "We're not like that. Just friends."
"You know that," she tacks on with exasperation. Kirishima's raised brow only rises as his smile grows. He leans forward, letting his forearm rest against the cool counter, the other cocked on his hip. During this time, his meaning dawns on Midoriya, who immediately flushes, cupping his face with both hands despite the dirt that envelops his palms.
"Oh god, no," he protests. It comes out a lot more offensive than it had in his head, and catching Uraraka's expression, he mimics her position, waving his forearms in denial. Turning quickly to Uraraka, he continues to wave frantically.
"Not that you wouldn't make a good partner one day! I'm sure someone will be very happy with you!" he flounders. It just gets worse and worse, and Uraraka's expression has become mortified. She ducks down, hoping to avoid the conversation and change the topic, and when she rises again, a pot and bouquet float up with her.
"We were tying up a bouquet for a client to pick up later," she explains, pushing both over the counter. With a touch of her fingertips against each other and a quick, "Release," both items flop onto the counter. The impeccable yellow bow flattens against the surface, and Midoriya hurriedly turns it over before it can accidentally come undone.
"Uh huh, sure," Kirishima teases, and though they know he's kidding, they're faces still burn from embarrassment. He taps the lid of a coffee cup, then his forehead in a salute, pushing off the counter. Stepping back, he curls his arms, and his muscles strain against the crisp white button up, sleeves rolled up his forearms. Clapping a hand against his bicep, he eyes Midoriya and says, "Accept your pain. It's manly!"
At Midoriya's lost expression, Kirishima points to the back of his head, and Midoriya's hands fly up to rub at the sore spot. Then their visitor turns and disappears among the greenery surrounding the quaint flower shop. The familiar jingle of the bell indicates that he's finally left.
The loud presence finally gone and their blushes toning down, Midoriya grabs onto two of the four coffee cups and shrugs towards the back. "I'll get these to Iida and Todoroki. Can you deliver the coffee shop flowers later? Or do you want me to do it?"
Uraraka bobs her head and points at him to go. When he disappears behind the curtains, she sighs and rests her elbows next to the pot, letting her forehead fall against her palms. The bouquet sits in her vision, and she eyes the bright red roses with a faint smile touching her lips.
At the jingle of the bell, she pushes up and grins brightly.
"Welcome to FlorAlliance!"
--
The next day, it's not Kirishima who barges into their shop with their coffee. Instead, Uraraka is surprised to see Jirou make a rare appearance. Her apron is tied around her waist, unlike Kirishima who comes in with his uniform sans the apron. And man, does she look tired.
"Welcome!" Uraraka greets, cocking her head in question. But a smile stretches across her face. She enjoys her presence, as her job is oddly comprised of young men, and seeing another girl is enough to make her day. So getting to see her is always a treat, as Jirou is usually behind the counter bright and early into the day to deal with the morning rush.
The other waves with exhaustion as she sets down the tray of coffee. There are bags that linger underneath her eyes, and an annoyed pout adorns her mouth, though it goes away at Uraraka's greeting. "This is a surprise!"
"Hey," she greets back. Then, to Uraraka's surprise, she slumps over the counter, letting her cheek mush against the cool surface, a bouquet of tulips barely an inch away from her nose. Her ear jacks swing with the movement, finally settling against her neck in defeat.
"Jirou?" Uraraka yelps in concern. The girl in question waves a hand dismissively, but that does nothing to quell her worry.
"I'm so tired," she mutters against the granite. Blowing a breath from puffed cheeks, they both watch the tulip petals flutter with movement. "Let me sleep for five minutes." Though she says this, her eyes remain open but half-lidded, and her words are muffled against the surface.
"Kaminari?" she tries. Jirou rolls her eyes at the thought and shakes her head, though the gesture is restricted by the countertop. Rather than wait, Uraraka starts to pull the coffee cups from their places, setting them down while keeping an eye on her friend. "Midoriya and Todoroki are at the greenhouse right now. And Iida is making a delivery to a wedding, so they won't be back for a while. Their coffee is going to get cold by the time they get back."
"Well then." Jirou pushes up with an ungraceful grunt. "Don't mind if I do." With that, she swipes one of the coffee cups, and Uraraka is alarmed when she downs it in almost one go. Finished, she slams it down, nearly crushing it in her grip. At Uraraka's expression, she jabs a thumb behind her shoulder. "I'll bring another later. Gives me an excuse to leave that hell hole."
"You seem...agitated?" The last word comes out as a question. "Are you sure it's not Kaminari?"
Jirou rolls her eyes, and with a finger to her lips, Uraraka snaps her mouth shut, silence blanketing them. Then an ear jack extends to plug into the wall. Her eye twitches at whatever she hears, and then she rushes to pull back, just as an explosion rocks the coffee shop next door. All the hanging plants swing with the force, and Uraraka dives to grab at a few falling ornaments. Soil and dust rain from the ceiling, covering them in a flimsy coating of grey and brown.
When she stands, arms full of garden ornaments, her eyes are wide and mouth flapping as words refuse to string into coherent sentences.
"For once," Jirou growls, "I wish it was Kaminari I was dealing with." She brushes her shirt and ruffles her hair, which sticks up at odd angles, as if it'd been run through multiple times in the last hour. "We have a new hire today, and it's safe to say that he's—temperamental." Her head twitches at the end.
"Your new hire did that?!" she exclaims, craning her neck at Jirou in astonishment. That would explain why Jirou looks exhausted and irritated. Heck, if Uraraka had to deal with someone who created explosions in her flower shop, she'd lose her mind too.
"Unfortunately. His quirk is a lot to take in—he's a lot to take in," Jirou answers. She sighs heavily, rubbing her forehead with her thumb and index finger. "That's partially why I'm here, actually. Kirishima wanted me to tell you that there's no need for flowers today. Just bring double or something tomorrow. It's going to be hell today."
Uraraka is about to protest when she sees the light die from Jirou's eyes. Another explosion rocks the building and something crashes from the back room. Uraraka flinches, and Jirou grimaces apologetically.
"Anyway," she mutters, tucking a loose strand behind her ear, "I'm going to go. Kirishima is going to need all the help he can get." She backs away from the counter, taking the crushed coffee cup and launching it with perfect trajectory into the trash.
Uraraka can't help it when she blurts out, "Stay safe!"
Without an answer, Jirou raises a fist into the air and ducks a hanging spider plant, disappearing into the miniature garden.
--
"Are you sure you can handle the shop yourself?" Midoriya asks, the concern in his tone evident with the rush of his words. His scans the floor, eyeing the shattered glass and porcelain in the trash. Luckily, they hadn't lost too much from their small inventory.
Uraraka nods firmly. Mimicking Kirishima's signature pose, she curls an arm and slaps a hand over her upper arm. "You can count of us!" Iida stands next to her, back straight with his arms crossed.
His glasses catch the light and take on a confident sheen as he announces, voice booming, "We'll be fine, Midoriya! Uraraka, Todoroki, and I will keep the shop running smoothly! Isn't that right?"
"Mhmm!" Uraraka bobs her head once in affirmation. Todoroki doesn't bother to answer, his back facing them as he pats down the dirt in a small pot, dandelion swaying gently at his ministrations. It's not much, but they all know Todoroki never slacks off. "Don't worry about us! Keep all that for your mom!"
Midoriya still doesn't look convinced, even as he sends them a wobbly smile. "I guess?" Uraraka rolls her eyes and steps forward to grab at his shoulder.
"Just leave it to us!" she says, confidence layering her tone. Iida moves forward and grabs his other shoulder. Together, they push him out of the back room, curtain brushing against the trio, and they don't stop until he's well behind the counter. That's when they let go, and he turns to face them.
"I don't know about this." The uncertainty somewhat stings, but that's just how he is. Iida lifts both arms and sets his forearms perpendicular to his body.
"Don't worry! Everything will run smoothly, so leave it to us!"
Uraraka leans over the counter and shoves him none-too-lightly. "Yeah, have more faith in us! Go focus on your mom!" An idea crosses her mind, and she holds up a finger, dashing into the back room. A small bundle of bouquets sit in a metal bucket, and she plucks it out, shaking the water from the stems.
Hopping over to Todoroki, she presents it to him with a flourish. "Can you wrap these?" He merely glances at her and takes the bundle, wrapping it in leisure. Though he's a little slower, his folds are impeccable. She grabs the finished product, and thanking him with a quick pat on the shoulder, bounds out of the back room. Then she throws it at Midoriya, who catches it with no grace.
"Give those to your mom! Tell her to feel better, ok?"
He peers down at the purple and white bouquet of lavender and jasmine. With a quick sniff, he stifles a smile behind the flowers and nods at them.
"Thanks guys. I'll see you in a week!"
He turns and makes his way to the door, cradling the bouquet against his body. Uraraka turns to Iida with a bright smile on her face.
"We'll be fine, won't we?" she asks, setting her hands on her hips.
"Of course!"
--
The next week passes by without a hitch.
Well, almost.
They nearly mess up two orders, switching one for the other, and when the bride for one wedding shows up simultaneously with the mother of the groom from another, they know they're in deep shit. Uraraka tries to placate the two, and Iida furiously apologizes, bowing perfect ninety degree angles each time in rapid succession. Everything just about falls into a chaotic mess of pointed fingers, yelling, and apologies, and Uraraka is this close to tearing up. It's not until Todoroki pops his through the curtain that everything gradually settles, his presence a calming factor for both sides.
In short, it's safe (and sad) to say that they're a mess without Midoriya and that Todoroki is a blessing.
The explosions from next door start to decrease. On the day Jirou had brought coffee, Uraraka had counted seven blasts, and throughout that day, she had lost about five ornaments: three glass balls and two porcelain gnomes.
(She's pretty happy about the small depletion of gnomes. Why Todoroki likes them, she'll never understand.
"They're calming," he says, never looking up from his task of removing thorns from rose stems. That's his explanation, short and vague, and his tone indicates that he doesn't have to explain any further.
She doesn't push it.)
The next day, Iida locks up their fragile decorations, and they don't lose anymore gnomes. Though, they still count five explosions. And after that, throughout the week, it lessens to one a day.
Each day, rather than Kirishima bringing them coffee, Uraraka is delighted to see the other rare faces appear in their flower shop. Sometimes, it's Jirou. Other times, it's Kaminari. But the pattern remains the same: they all look exhausted.
And each day, Iida drops off the coffee shop flowers on the way to making a different delivery. Sometimes, when he comes back, his jaw is wired shut and the vein at his temple throbs in frustration and barely repressed anger.
("New hire?" Uraraka had tried the first time. He had grunted and shoved up his glasses.
"Don't wanna talk about it."
"Okay.")
Eventually, the day before Midoriya is scheduled to come back, she counts no explosion. Heaving a relieved sigh as she locks up, she wipes her face with the back of her hand and shoves the key into her pocket.
It's when she turns away that the hairs on the back of her neck stand, as if someone's watching her. And when she whips her head toward the next door coffee shop, she barely glimpses a flash of red eyes before they turn away, and a slouched figure starts for the opposite direction she's headed in.
--
"Midoriya! Thank goodness you're back!" Iida exclaims, whacking him repeatedly on the shoulder. Uraraka cheers and hugs him out of relief and exhaustion.
"How's your mom?" she asks. He shrugs off his bag and holds it up, face shining with elation at being back with his friends and in what he calls, his home away from home.
"She's fine! She feels better, and she baked us some cake for later. I'm going to store it in the fridge. Iida, can you come with me to the back? Todoroki told me that you have a delivery to make today, and I want to make sure we get that right this time," he says, smile stretching across his face. His words don't have any bite to them—they never do—but it leaves Uraraka digging her toes into the ground sheepishly.
Iida salutes him and follows him out back, leaving her to monitor the front alone. In the meantime, she touches a watering can and lets it float up. It tilts right as it hits the ceiling and begins to sprinkle water onto some of the hanging plants.
The familiar jingle of the bell catches her attention, and she releases the can, catching it with ease. Then she sends it floating behind her, watering a few of the seeds that haven't begun to sprout.
Eagerly, she cranes her neck to see who her visitor can be, excited to see Jirou and ask how the concert she had talked about for weeks had gone. Or even Kaminari, who had gone with her, as they were both fans of hard rock.
Instead, she's met with an image of ashy blond locks, spiked in a way that's similar to Kirishima's, and she's about to blurt and ask if he'd dyed his hair, when she realizes that it's definitely not Kirishima. Because Kirishima always has a smile stretching across his face and an ease to his movements as he maneuvers around the various pots of plants.
This new visitor is a stranger. His brows are furrowed, as if permanently etched together, and a scowl is set on his face, as if carved from stone. Familiar red eyes glare around the shop, slanted in what seems like perpetual anger.
And Uraraka is immediately intimidated.
Even more baffling is the tray of coffee that sits on one hand, the familiar logo of Ultra Roasts splayed across the cardboard coffee cup sleeves. He accidentally knocks over a small pot, sending it falling, and she's about to dive out when he kicks out a leg and launches it up to catch it with quick reflexes.
Though she's impressed, it doesn't deter her from seeing the small explosion that is set off at his fingertips, like a mini firework show that ends much too quickly.
(She's relieved when nothing is set on fire.)
He clucks his tongue in annoyance before his gaze rounds onto her, freezing her on the spot; she immediately feels like prey. Her smile has long slipped off her face, giving way to a slight gape to accompany wide, rounded eyes.
"What're you looking at?" he snarls, unnecessarily aggressive. And his gravelly voice does its job to complete his rebellious-bad-boy look. Instead of cowering, she offers him a small smile.
"New hire?" she asks, trying to instill the bubbly confidence back into her tone. It barely works, and her speech comes out stilted and rife with timid squeaks. If possible, his scowl deepens as he slams the tray down on the countertop. It's a miracle the coffee doesn't slosh through the small opening and over the lid.
She sets the cups onto the counter and pushes the tray back to him. He only glares at her, watching with hawk-like precision. It's a little unnerving, and she feels the heat radiate from her cheeks. "Uh, thanks," she stutters. He waits. "Is there anything else?"
It takes him a good while before answering. "What, is it just free coffee?"
"Kirishima didn't tell you?" Apparently, it's the wrong thing to ask because his glare turns even sharper.
"He told me to bring this to this jungle shithole," he scoffs, eyeing the butterfly decorations that dangle from curved wires.
Wow. The audacity.
She doesn't know what overcomes her, but his attitude has done nothing but rub her the wrong way since he'd entered. And now he's calling FlorAlliance—her home, her solitude—a shithole?
"This isn't a shithole," she snaps, "who the hell do you think you are?!" In her anger, she barely notices the watering can behind her clatter to the ground. The only indication that he's taken aback is the slight widening of his eyes. And then, to her surprise, he scoffs at her.
"So you're not just another prissy extra," he sneers. And ooh, does Uraraka's temper shoot up this close to boiling point, leaving her almost delirious with irritation.
"How dare yo—"
Before she can continue, another voice breaks through the air. "Uraraka? Is everything all right?" To her relief, Midoriya peeks out from behind the curtains. When he sees the stranger, his eyes widen in recognition, and he steps out, brushing his hands against his apron.
"Kacchan!"he greets, surprise and delight brightening his voice.
Kacchan? Do they know each other?
She swivels back to the stranger, who undergoes a rapid change. His eyes narrow dramatically, fists clenching as he brings one up to slam against the counter. A small explosion sends a cup flying, and it splatters on the ground, spilling hot coffee across the dirt-ridden hardwood floor.
"Deku," he growls, elongating the word. And in a way, the word is formed like a threat.
"Deku?" she repeats, turning to Midoriya while cocking her head in question. He smiles sheepishly, undeterred by the stranger's presence, and palms the back of his neck.
"It's a nickname he gave me when we were younger," he answers. Switching his gaze to 'Kacchan,' he offers a smile and nods at him.
"So you're the new hire at Ultra Roasts?" Before he can finish his question, 'Kacchan' interrupts angrily.
"Shut up, Deku! No one needs your stupid ass questions!" With a huff, he grabs the tray, stuffs it under his arm, and stalks out of their sight. This time, the jingle of the bell is accompanied by the slamming of their door. Uraraka decides she'll check on it later for cracks and damages.
"Do you know him?" she asks, bending over to grab at the empty coffee cup. With a quick shake, she lets it float over the trash and releases it. Midoriya disappears behind the curtains and reappears with a mop and a few paper towels. She takes the mop and begins to dry the mess, hoping none of it splashed onto the plants underneath the counter.
"Yup," he begins, grunting as he crouches to dab the paper towels over the spreading liquid. "We were childhood friends."
"You were friends with him?" It's hard for her to imagine sweet, tiny Midoriya being friends with that bundle of complicated brooding and anger management issues. Even more so, it's difficult to see that they ever got along in the first place with such contrasting personalities.
Midoriya laughs and sighs, "It's complicated."
Hearing the quiet quiver in his tone, she doesn't press it, changing the topic to put him at ease. And the rest of the time that they're cleaning, she regales him with tales of their misadventures in the time he had been gone.
But that doesn't stop the seething in her chest.
--
Later on, with some random (she hopes they sound random), mindless questions, she needles out of Midoriya that the stranger's name is not, in fact, 'Kacchan.' It's Bakugou Katsuki.
That's not what she calls him though, instead referring to him as 'hot head' or 'idiot'. Sometimes, just the thought of him is enough for her to blow a fuse. And when he shows up with coffee...
She explodes.
Every time he shows up, and she's monitoring the front, they bicker. It's almost nonstop arguing as he finds new ways to insult FlorAlliance, and she retaliates by snapping at him with as many witty insults as she can think of. In her frustration, she misses the way his eyes slant in amusement at her fiery tongue.
However, when Midoriya is around, he doesn't bother, shooting them with a scathing insult and leaving before Midoriya can get so much as a word out. When Iida isn't out making a quick delivery, he doesn't bother speaking to Bakugou, though when she later sees him, she notices the way his temple throbs with irritation.
But none of it can compare to Todoroki. With him out front, Bakugou always blows something up. What happens, she doesn't know. So when she asks about it, Todoroki shrugs in response.
"I only told him provocation was a useless communication tactic," he says. Then, after a thought, adds, "and that bickering was a waste of time for him and for us."
Well, that explains it.
Then he and Midoriya disappear off to the greenhouse. They have a new shipment of seeds, and Todoroki's quirk is needed to warm up certain plants, namely their tropical collection. It's how they're able to sell such a variety.
(Bless Todoroki.)
On a particularly slow day, she picks up a small bouquet of daisies and wraps them in green paper, hoping to emphasize their soft, white petals. Gently, she cradles the flowers close to her chest and when she appears at the front, she lifts them for Iida to see.
"I'm gonna take these over," she says. He waves her off—he can manage things. So she sets out for the coffee shop, ducking under the succulents growing in baubles over the entrance.
The coffee shop emits a similar vibrancy to the flower shop, but the aura is much more different. There's the bustle as customers come and go, mainly students and business people in stuffy suits. The baristas are always active, running from one end of the counter to another, and the first thing she does is swerve from being run over as a businesswoman nearly rams the door into her face.
She utters a quick apology and speeds off with her suitcase and coffee cup. With a relieved sigh, Uraraka glances down to make sure the flowers are still all right. When she deems they're not too crushed, she pulls open the door and enters. A fresh wave of coffee and pastries washes over her, bathing her in the aromatic fog that has her swallowing heavily.
Kirishima mans the cash register, and when his eyes meet hers, he lifts an arm into the air and starts to wave it frantically.
"Uraraka! Hey!" His presence is just like the sun, bright and sunny, without a cloud in sight. Well, except for the mini storm cloud that stands off to the side as Bakugou steams the espresso. When she reaches the counter, shoving past a small group of teens, she presents the daisies and Kirishima nods in approval.
"I like them," he says sliding over the small vase that sits next to the register. She plucks the dried carnations from their spot, their hue having become muted over time, and replaces them with the daisies. Kaminari appears from behind her, nearly scaring her out of her wits. With a small jug, he pours in a decent amount of water and pushes it back to Kirishima, who catches it without having to look up from the customer.
That's just how it is. Ultra Roasts's staff is a system of cogs that each pull their own weight. Not just that, but most of them have friendly, sometimes complex, relationship with one another. She wonders how Bakugou fits into the equation, especially since he's such a wild card.
She gets her answer when he turns to set a latte down, its milk heart crooked towards the left. Kirishima takes one look and busts out laughing. With a flinch, she expects another explosive reaction, but all Bakugou does is utter a small 'tch' and glance away. When he notices Uraraka's presence, his gaze flickers down to the dead carnations clutched to her chest.
He reaches over and snatches it from her grip, tossing them behind the counter without another word. Jirou appears from behind Uraraka and slides the mug onto a tray, scoffing at the crooked heart, and gives her friend a slight nod with a small smile as she turns away to briskly make her way to her customer.
"Busy day," Uraraka comments, noticing that there are no open tables. Kirishima finishes with his customer and after giving Bakugou instructions, slumps over the counter.
"Oi, hedgehog! We have a shit ton of orders! What are you doing?" Bakugou snaps. It's like he has eyes on the back of his head. Maybe they're hidden behind that wild bushel of spikes. Kirishima is unfazed.
"Don't call me that—we have the same hairstyle, you dolt," he says good naturedly, pushing back to shove Bakugou in the back. He nearly drops the mug he's working with and sends a blazing scowl at the duo, even if Uraraka has nothing to do with the conversation. "And don't forget, I'm your boss for the next month."
"Shut up, hair-for-brains!"
Kirishima ignores him, focusing on Uraraka with his head sitting on his palms, elbows resting against the counter. "Anyway, yeah. I think there's a convention going on nearby because it's insane today. The number of suits I've seen almost makes me believe I'm working in an office." He taps his chin and adds, "I wonder why they're always in a hurry." Then he clenches his fists, wiping away an invisible tear. "So manly."
"Sorry to hear that." Uraraka sends him a sympathetic smile. Up close, Kirishima looks exhausted. The bags under his eyes jut out as if he'd pulled an all-nighter the previous night. In fact, almost all of them radiate exhaustion. It's in the way Kaminari's shoulders are slumped as he places an order down and the way Jirou's head cocks to the side whenever she's on the verge of falling asleep.
Kirishima huffs, and she's close enough to smell the coffee that lingers in his breath. With its strength, he must have had a few cups.
"Save me, Uraraka," he groans. She tilts her head with a smile.
"I hope things get better," she offers. It's not much help. "Well, Midoriya and I are going to the greenhouse tomorrow, so I'll be you tomorrow. There's a lot to do."
"Oh?" Kirishima raises his brows. "Just the two of you? Alone? I thought you said there was nothing going on between the two of you."
Her face suddenly heats up, and though there's nothing between them, she feels like she's been caught. A loud scoff catches their attention, and she misses the way Kirishima's eyes flicker towards Bakugou with amusement.
"Round Face is too good for Deku." The admission has them both blinking at him without a word.
"So," Kirishima starts, "are you saying you're good enough for her?"
Her face nearly explodes, and she has to press her fingers together in case she accidentally activates her quirk out of embarrassment. "Kirishima!" she protests.
Bakugou is quick, and in a flash, has his hand in front of Kirishima's face, blasting it with a loud explosion. It startles Uraraka so badly that she jumps, accidentally floating an inch off the ground before remembering to release. The heat is intense, almost searing, and for a good moment, she actually fears for Kirishima's life.
Thank god said victim is just as fast because when the smoke clears, she sees that his quirk has been activated, both arms brought up in a cross to block his face. The odd juts and hard angles indicate that he's hardened his upper body. Bakugou is heaving, eyes wild with rage, yet it doesn't deter Kirishima, whose grin only splits wider.
"Shut up! Deku isn't worth anything!"
Kirishima does a small 'uh huh' nod in obvious disbelief, and Bakugou growls, whirling around to finish the latte. Then he slams it on the counter—Uraraka thinks she sees a small crack in the porcelain as it scrapes the counter. He stalks off without another word, not even when Kirishima calls out, "Hey, don't damage store property!"
Then Kirishima turns to Uraraka with a wink.
She's not sure what it's supposed to mean.
Neither does she understand why her palms are sweating and her heart is racing as if she had just finished a marathon.
--
She loves the greenhouse—that's a given. But pulling weeds has to be one of the most boring activities she's ever had the displeasure to do.
It causes her to sweat, shirt sticking uncomfortably to her skin as she bends to yank out another pesky blade. Midoriya is no different, yet he doesn't complain. Instead, he's humming some sort of tune she heard Todoroki listening to the day before. Standing straight, she huffs and uses the back of her hand to swipe at her forehead, pulling back to see the light sheen against her skin.
"How does Todorki keep it so warm?" she grunts, tossing the weeds into her bag. Midoriya pauses in his tune but doesn't stand from his crouched position.
"It's his quirk! You know that," he chuckles. How can he be so happy-go-lucky almost all the time? Most of the time, it's endearing. Sometimes...it can be a bit much. Today, it's the latter. Especially since she's covered in grime and sweat with a throbbing lower back.
She'd take Bakugou's ridiculous arguments over this.
The thought causes her to choke, and she swoops down to tear out a lingering weed with vigor. It does nothing but spray her with a face full of dirt. Stumbling, she lands on her backside with a yelp that causes Midoriya to glance up, locking wide eyes with her surprised gaze. Then they both burst into laughter.
He ambles to her, waddling from the effects of crouching so long, and offers his hand. She takes it with a firm grasp, and he yanks her up, helping her brush dirt off of her arms and shoulders. She does the same, swiping at her pants and legs to remove as much dirt as she can. Which is not much.
Once their laughter fades into light chuckles, she sighs. "Hey, Midoriya. I have a question, if you don't mind."
Sending her a smile over his shoulder, he shrugs and moves to pick up his bag of weeds. With a grunt, he hefts it over his shoulder and starts for the corner, where multiple garbage bags are filled with fallen leaves, sheared twigs, and other discarded plants. "I don't mind. What's up?"
"Why does Bakugou treat you the way he does?" The way his shoulders tense causes discomfort to bubble at the pit of her stomach. Maybe she should've asked later, or at a better time. But to be fair, when is it ever a good time to bring this up?
It takes him a moment, but then he drops the bag and brushes his hands free of dirt. Uraraka waits, having intertwined her hands into a twisting and pinching at each other.
"It's," he starts, cocking his head left and right, searching for the right word, "complicated."
That's the explanation she got last time, and it isn't satisfying. It isn't satisfying at all, so she tries again. "How?"
"Mmmm," he hums. Then he swipes his hands along his pants, a gesture she's come to associate with him being nervous. Even reluctant. There's an uncomfortable pause in the air, and she's about to just discard it all when he answers.
"Kacchan is a complicated person." She knows that but doesn't press, sensing that he's going to continue.
"His quirk is extremely powerful, and after he got it—well, everything became difficult. See, he's very prideful, having been met with high expectations. That's one of his flaws, but it's also his strong point. He strives for perfection, but he wants it through his own means. Not through others', if that makes sense. He's the type of person whose accomplishments are his own."
For a moment, she's stunned. Not because of what he says—well, partially—but mainly because even with Bakugou's nasty attitude, particularly when aimed at Midoriya, the latter only has good things to say.
"But you guys didn't get along." It's phrased more as a statement than a question. Midoriya shrugs and nods.
"I was weak before, maybe even now," he says in true Midoriya-style self-deprecation. Before she can protest vehemently, he continues, "But we've both grown. And I'm really glad to see him making friends with others. Even you two get along fine. He seems to respect you."
She splutters in response, feeling her face heat up with indignation and embarrassment. Bakugou? Respect her? Please, if Midoriya had been around for any of their arguments, he wouldn't be saying so.
"What! No, he doesn't respect me—"
She's interrupted when a trill vibrates through the air. All Might's signature, somehow patriotic "I am here!" splicing through the air from Midoriya's back pocket. He quickly fishes through his pocket, fumbling with his phone while casting sheepish looks at her.
"Hello? Iida, what's up—are you ok? I can't really hear you. There's a lot of shouting." Midoriya plugs in one ear and narrows his eyes as he tries to listen closely. Filled with sudden concern, Uraraka rushes forward, bag of weeds discarded on the ground, and pushes her ear next to his phone.
Huh, he's right. Through the speakers, she can hear some sort of commotion going on in the background. They glance at each other, unsure what to do, and Midoriya says, "Hang on. I'm gonna put you on speaker."
The commotion gets louder, tinny and inaudible, but the moment Midoriya's finger taps on the speaker icon, the sound explodes.
Almost literally.
There the sound of an explosion blasts through the speakers, and Midoriya's hand trembles from the force. She sends him an alarmed look, which he reciprocates, and they both dive into question.
"Iida, are you ok—?!"
"What's going on?!"
There's another explosion, albeit smaller than the first, but it does nothing to placate their agitated nerves. There's some more yelling and—is that Bakugou?
Iida's voice overtakes the commotion. "Ah! Uraraka, you're there with Midoriya. You didn't answer your phone, so I called Midoriya to check up."
"—shut up, four-eyes! Or I swear to god I'll—" The rest is muffled and drowned out by Iida's reciprocal shouting, though it sounds more like a schoolteacher scolding a child.
"Iida?" she tries tentatively. "Sorry, I had it on silent."
"It's fine!" Something shatters in the background. It doesn't sound fine at all. "Bakugou, please stop letting your quirk loose. That ornament is highly fragile." Then his voice returns at full volume. "Bakugou is here, and he was asking for you—"
Said person's gravelly voice yells out, "—I was not, you four-eyed freak! I'm only here to deliver shitty—"
Iida's voice is small but audible, as it nearly disappears. Midoriya and Uraraka have to lean in close to hear. "But you asked where she was!"
Her face is heating up fast, almost making her delirious, and she's pretty sure Midoriya can feel the amount of warmth that emanates from her rapidly reddening face. There are a few more explosions and then a quiet but menacing growl:
"Half-and-half bastar—"
The call ends abruptly, leaving the duo standing at a loss.
"Should we go back?" Midoriya finally breaks the silence, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. Uraraka nods, blinking at him, still at a loss for words.
Because though she's baffled at the exchange, she's even more stunned at the butterflies that have come to life in her chest, fluttering and blind as they search for something sweet. And it isn't the multitude of brightly colored flowers that they're looking for.
--
The next time she sees Bakugou, she's manning the counter alone. Iida is on a delivery run and, judging from the apologetic call, is stuck rearranging the flowers for their clients. Todoroki has the day off, and Midoriya is meeting a potential customer, who's planning an extravagant wedding the town over.
It seems that they're approaching wedding season because that's where all of their flowers have gone.
With a touch to a can, she lets it hover, levitating it just above a hanging succulent as it sprinkles a few drops onto the barely blossoming plant. The chime of the bell echoes around the filled vicinity, and she brings her fingertips together, catching the watering can with practiced ease. And humming a gentle tune, she sets it tenderly on the counter.
"Welcome to FlorAllian—"
With the shock of blond hair comes familiar red eyes as Bakugou stalks towards her. She's only known him a few weeks, but that's long enough for her to see that he's not the same ball of rage he normally is. Today, he's—dare she say—more subdued?
The coffee tray in hand isn't horribly smoking in his hand, nor is there the acrid smell of burning plastic she's become accustomed to. Instead of some disparaging remarks on her plants or on her, he doesn't utter a word, setting the tray down with a loud clatter. She quickly dives forward to grasp at a cup before it can tip over from the sheer force of his strength.
"Thank you," she says, pulling each cup from their place. One will go to her, the other will go to Iida, and the rest can go back to the coffee shop? Or maybe she and Iida can each have two, especially if their day ends up longer than they anticipate.
Bakugou doesn't respond. In fact, he isn't even looking at her, eyes cast to the side as he pointedly avoids her gaze.
"Are you all right?" she asks, before she can stop herself. That causes him to turn to her with his signature scowl. His ruby red eyes meet with hers, then they dash away, averting her brow's quizzical furrow.
"Mind your own business, round face," he grunts. There's no acidity to his tone, yet there's something else there to fill that gap. Maybe it's the tremor in his voice. Or the way his hands keep rubbing against his side. Whatever it is, it's new, and Uraraka doesn't know what to do with this new 'Bakugou'.
When she's finished with the coffee cups, she slides the tray towards him. He doesn't take it. Instead, he glances at it at a loss.
Weird.
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asks, tilting her head. His hands clench into fists, but she doesn't back down at the bodily warning. "You're weird today."
"Shut up! You're weird!" he retorts. The venom slides back into his tone. There he is—there's the Bakugou she knows. Suddenly, "How do you repot a plant?"
Wait. What?
(Is this really Bakugou? Her mind does a cartwheel and boomerangs back to 'yes, the person standing before me really is him.')
She starts, jerking back a little at the sudden question. His scowl deepens, and she finds that she doesn't know how to answer. Only uttering a short, "Wha—why?"
"Do I need to explain myself?" he snarls, and his hands start to rub onto his apron. It sizzles a little, and a few parts of it become singed with heat. Flabbergasted, all she can do is stare.
With an exasperated groan, he picks up the tray, and she hears him mutter under his breath, "I knew this was a bad idea. Fucking hair-for-brains and his shitty ideas." It's when he turns to leave that she snaps out of her stupor.
"Wait," she exclaims. He pauses but doesn't turn. The tips of his ears have gone red. "Uh, do you really want to know? I can show you." She feels the heat travel up her neck until they burn at her cheeks. Almost as hot as his explosive quirk.
Without another word, he pivots on his feet and slaps the tray onto the counter. She holds up a finger for him to wait and gestures towards the back. "I'll be right back."
Ducking under the curtain, she scours the room for the discarded orchid Todoroki had set aside, and finding it underneath his workbench, internally cries at its browning leaves and wilted demeanor.
("It can't be saved," Todoroki said, observing it from all angles. Midoriya let out a sad sigh, and Uraraka begged to keep it.
"What for?" he asked.
"Just cause.")
She takes one of their pots stacked on top of one another, and grasping both under her arm, makes her way back into the shop. Bakugou is still there, elbows rested on the counter as he waits for her to come back. When she reappears, he straightens and looks away.
"Here," she says cheerfully, careful to set down the dying plant. "I've been meaning to repot this one."
He takes one look at it and sneers, "It's dying."
"It can be saved," she shoots back. "Anything can be saved as long as you care for it." He scoffs but doesn't say another word. "Anyway, all you need is potting soil, a pot, and a place to work."
With a flourish, she picks up her trusted watering can and sprinkles a bit onto the soil. "Use water to help clump the soil together. It'll be easier to slide out. To do that, you turn it on its side and tug both gently to ease it out." With that, she slides the orchid to him. He glances at it, then at her, and back at the plant again.
"What," he says. She waves at him with encouragement.
"You try it!" He hesitates, following her instructions with furrowed brows. Then he begins to tug on the stem with vigor.
"Gently!" she cries. He pauses in his movements and resumes with much less force, wiggling the plant out of its cracked pot. A few clumps of dirt fall from the roots, and she moves in close to inspect at them, bending over the counter to get a better look. "The roots look fine. Don't put it in the new one yet."
Then she pulls the new pot towards herself and ducks under the counter to grab some potting soil from the large, emptying bag. Mentally, she makes a note to remind Iida to pick up some more tomorrow. With a handful, she dumps it into the pot and ducks again to bring up another handful.
"Make sure you have about an inch of dirt before you put it in," she adds, sliding it towards him. He places the orchid in without a word, watching her every movement. Her self-consciousness explodes, but she places all her focus onto the plant. "Don't let go."
"Don't tell me what to do," he grumbles, but his hands don't release the stem. She gives him a look, then places more dirt in until it's completely filled.
"Ok, you can let go now. And all you have to do is pack it in, so that your flower is snug at home," she croons. He's nose scrunches in disgust at her tone, and she starts to pat at the soil until he slaps her hands away and tries himself. Though, with the force he's using, she's sure it'll probably smother to death. With rising panic, she doesn't think and moves, placing her hands on top of his.
"Gently," she says, firm and resolute. Flowers need to be treated gently—they shouldn't be handled with such strength. Then she starts to push at his hands, letting them push at the soil with a gentle shove, completely unaware at the fact that he has completely frozen at her actions.
"There we go, and that's really it—"
An explosion sparks at his fingertips, igniting the soil and her beloved orchid and blinding her as she feels the searing heat from his palms, and she yanks her hands away on instinct. When her vision rights itself, she's met with a mess.
Bakugou is heaving, eyes furious and face tinted pink as he glares at her. And her plant—
Soil is scattered across the counter. The smell of something burning is acrid and sour, and the pot is half melted, searing heat having destroyed the plastic boundary. And the orchid itself lay a few feet away on the hardwood, leaves and petals all scorched black. All except for one lone purple petal.
She staggers away from the counter and picks up the orchid with trembling hands. A charred leaf snaps from the blackened stem and flutters to the ground. Her face feels hot, as does her chest and eyes.
"Fucking hedgehog head—I knew this was a fucking shitty idea—"
For a moment, all she can hear is ringing within her ears. The anger that bubbles in her chest mixes with the surprising presence of hurt as she gazes blearily at the dead plant. No amount of care and love can save it.
"Get out." That shuts him up.
"It was just a plant, round face." His tone is sharp, hints of a tremor deep beneath his words. Something about him is hesitant, yet she doesn't care.
"I said, get out." She whirls at him, cradling the orchid to her chest. Whatever he's about to say gets stuck to the roof of his mouth the moment his eyes land on her face. He opens his mouth again, only to shut it without a word. He turns with his dirtied hands deep within his pockets and trudges out of sight. The chime of the bell falls on deaf ears.
It's only after he's gone that she realizes she's crying.
--
"I hate him," she says, scrubbing vigorously at one of their new pots. Todoroki hums and continues to cut at a few brown leaves. "I hate him."
"So you've said for the past twenty minutes," he responds, scissors snipping quietly amongst the rush of water. Her face colors and begins to burn. The vigorous scrubbing pauses as she gazes up at him.
"Has it really been twenty minutes?" she asks sheepishly. The embarrassment quickly overwhelms anger, leaving her mortified at herself. Todoroki doesn't pause from his ministrations. Another dead leaf floats to the ground to join its browning family.
"It's actually been almost thirty. I was being generous," is his noncommittal response. She groans and slides the plastic pot into place, grabbing at another to clean.
"Sorry, Todoroki," she utters her apology quietly. He hums in response, which in Todoroki-talk means all is forgiven.
The air is filled with cluttering plastic and sharp snipping as they lapse into silence.
"Have you thought about it?" he asks suddenly. The snipping ceases, and she hurriedly grabs onto her pot as it nearly slips from her soapy hands. Turning the faucet off, she turns her head to him with wide eyes. He glances at her for a second, then slides the pruned plant towards all the others he's completed. Grabbing at another plant, he sets off to work.
"What?" she asks, lost at his question. "Thought about what?"
"Why his actions hurt you so much."
Her answer is immediate, "He killed one of my plants."
Snip. Snip. Snip.
"So has Kirishima, and he's killed many. What makes Bakugou any different?"
Snip. Snip.
The question stumps her. "I—I don't know."
Snip.
--
She's in the back, refilling her watering can, when she hears the bell chime accompanied with a loud, almost yelling, argument. Alarmed, she sets down her can and turns off the faucet, rubbing her hands against her apron.
"Uraraka! Uraraka Ochako, are you here?! Hello! Uraraka—"
"Shut up! I swear I'll kill you, hedgehog!"
"U-ra-ra-ka!"
"Let me go!"
At the mention of her name, punctuated many times throughout shop, she pushes past the curtain to meet with Midoriya's widened eyes. She nods towards the noise, and he shrugs in return, completely at a loss. They both watch as Kirishima appears through the foliage first, dragging a reluctant, thrashing Bakugou behind him.
At the sight of him, Uraraka feels her chest start up again, heart galloping as hurt and disappointment mar the lines with anger. What the hell is he doing here? Bakugou shoves at Kirishima's arm, which is wrapped tightly around his neck like a vice, and he glances up just in time to meet her eyes before they both look away.
Her mind races, wondering and planning an escape route. She can probably get away, right? There's the back door, and she can totally outrun them if she has the element of surprise on her side. Midoriya must see her emotions play out on her face because he grabs at her elbow, giving her an encouraging smile.
They all know what happened. And all of them did their best to console her, especially Midoriya. He'd been the one who found her crying with dirt scattered around her as she helplessly cradled the blackened plant to her chest.
She gazes at him with wide, almost-frightened eyes, flitting between him and the back door. It'll be all right, he mouths. I'm right here. At that, she relaxes, though her plans of running from the origin of her turmoil are tempting.
Kirishima throws the struggling Bakugou against the counter, face set with a grin for them, but when it turns to his friend, it changes into a stern frown. Bakugou swears at him, hand coming to blast at him, but Kirishima uses his quirk, hardening before he can do any real damage.
"Hello, Uraraka, Midoriya," he greets cheerfully. Bakugou growls and tries to stalk past him but fails as Kirishima pushes him back towards the two. "Bakugou here has something to say to you, Uraraka."
She remains silent, feet digging into the ground as she squirms in discomfort. Midoriya's reassuring hand moves to her shoulder, squeezing lightly to remind her that she isn't alone. Bakugou gets caught up in Kirishima's grasp as the other resumes his chokehold. He grabs at his arm, firing small blast after blast, but Kirishima doesn't break.
"Dude, how many times have I told you? Making women cry isn't manly. Nor is it polite. So, you know what to do," he says. At his words, Bakugou stops struggling, and Kirishima loosens his grip, releasing as soon as Bakugou throws his arm off. He's breathing hard, chest heaving with exertion as he glares at his friend, who only sends him a raised brow.
All Uraraka can hear is the rush in her ears as the mortification threatens to swallow her whole. She waves both hands frantically.
"Kirishima, guys, don't worry about it. I'm fine now. There's no need to—"
"Shut it, round face," Bakugou interrupts. His head is hanging low and his hands are stuffed into his pockets. Her words falter as she gazes with wide eyes at him. Kirishima whacks the back of his head, and he shoots up to send a scathing glare at him. It's not enough because Kirishima only raises his head and nods at her, frown deepening.
Bakugou huffs a breath and turns to her. His eyes zero in on Midoriya's hand, which sits on her shoulder, and he glares heavily. She can almost feel the heat from his eyes. Midoriya must feel it too because he retracts it and lets it fall to his side. With that, Bakugou scoffs, but his eyes don't leave her.
"I'm—" He stops, breathing in deeply and shutting his eyes. Exhaling heavily through his nose, it's as if he's about to run a marathon or prepare himself to deliver the news of someone's death. There's a tick in his jaw that keeps twitching.
"Well?" Kirishima urges.
"Shut up! Let me do this!" Bakugou shouts. Dragging a hand through his hair, he lets it fall away and it slaps his side audibly. When he looks at her, this time, his eyes meet with hers, and their gazes stay connected.
"I'm sorry, Uraraka," he says, gruff and uncharacteristically soft. It's the first time he's used her name, and the notion of it sends her stomach into a whirling frenzy. She bites her lip, swallowing heavily.
"It's fine," she utters, smoothing down her skirt. Her palms are clammy. Midoriya rubs her back comfortingly, and she sends him a grateful smile.
"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Kirishima says, clapping his back. Bakugou lurches forward with a grunt and sends another glare at his friend, who's undeterred. He's had a few months to get accustomed to Bakugou's temper, and now he takes it in stride.
"Shut it, hedgehog," Bakugou grumbles. He sends another look at Uraraka, who offers him a small smile. The tension leaves his shoulders, and he relaxes infinitesimally. His lips curl to one end before Kirishima slings an arm over his shoulder.
"Come on, let's get back." He turns to Midoriya and Uraraka, acknowledging them with a nod and a wide smile. "Sorry to interrupt your day."
Before anyone can get another word out, he begins to drag the other young man out. The air fills with more shouting and arguing. And the bell chimes before everything resumes silence. Barely, just barely, they can hear the argument continue outside.
"Uraraka, are you all right?" Midoriya asks, glancing at her tentatively.
"Yeah, I am."
--
Over the course of his visits, Bakugou is much more pleasant. Well, more than what he usually is, which is harsh and undermining. At first, he's quiet, a little awkward as he tries to avoid any conversation with her. It must be the guilt because she has to affirm that she's forgiven him before he resumes his normal self.
And then, they're back to bickering. This time, however, there are playful undertones. Rather than offended, Uraraka sends him jab after snarky jab. With him, it has become a battle of wits. Surprisingly, she starts to look forward to seeing him bring them coffee in the mornings. And she's slowly starts to consider him a friend. And in her mind, he considers her a friend as well.
So why is she so disappointed at the thought?
--
The day she realizes her feelings, she's cutting at a rose bush. And with a jerk, accidentally snips a brilliant red rose off the bundle.
"Uraraka!" Midoriya shrieks. She glances down at it with wide eyes.
"Oh my god, I like him," she breathes.
--
"What's wrong with her?" Kirishima asks, dropping off the coffee. It smells delicious, even with her cheek pressed flush against the granite counter. It's cool, and it keeps the blush off her heated face. Every time Bakugou comes in, she finds an excuse to run, whether it be errands or escaping in general.
When she's forced to interact, she can't help the stutter that drags her words or the reddening of her face. Sometimes, she ends up blurting out something ridiculous and runs anyway, leaving him baffled and uncomprehending at her flushed state.
"I don't know," Iida answers for her, tone concerned at her lack of enthusiasm. Kirishima hums, and his shadow casts over her as he looks down at her slumped state. "She's been like this since yesterday."
"Hm, does it have anything to do with Bakugou?" There's a teasing lilt to his voice, and she shoots up, nearly smashing her head into his nose. Fortunately for him, his quick reflexes save him from a broken nose, and his grin widens.
"No!" she protests. The heat in her face intensifies, and she shakes her head vigorously. "No!" she repeats, though this time, it's weaker than she'd intended it to be.
"Uh huh," Kirishima says, disbelief marring his voice, crossing his arms. The shirt strains at his muscles, which bulge with restraint. Iida watches her like a hawk, shock igniting in his features.
"What did he do to you?!" he asks, craning his neck to make sure she isn't injured.
Kirishima waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, it has nothing with what he's done to her physically. Am I right?" Then he sends her a wink. That nearly does her in because she collapses onto the countertop with a great sigh.
Iida lets out a shout of concern, "I'll get you some water!" And he disappears into the back.
Uraraka turns her head so that her other cheek is pressed against the surface, and from her vantage point, she can see Kirishima lean against the counter, elbows resting next to her head. "No worries," he mutters, words for her ears only. "I won't tell him a thing."
"Thank you," she breathes. There's no point in denying it now. She's sure her reaction has given everything away. Curse her and her obvious nature.
"Though," Kirishima starts. It ignites a panic in her, and she lifts her head, eyeing him with pleading concern. "He has a thing for you too. Just letting you know."
Just like that, the flush is back on her cheeks, scorching and burning.
"What? No, no way," she laughs, though it's higher pitched and oddly stilted. She slaps at his shoulder with more force than necessary. He doesn't even flinch, barely indicates that she's hurt him, even if it's just a little.
Iida returns with a cup of water and hands it to her. At her reddened face, he leans in close and places the back of his hand on her forehead. "Are you sure you should be working? You may have a fever."
She backs away with a wobbly smile. Before she can take a sip of her water, Kirishima dunks a finger in, and she whips her head to him in surprise. Iida throws up his hands and disappears off into the back, presumably to get her another glass.
Even more unexpected is when Kirishima dabs his wet finger against some dried soil. Then, without a word, wipes it against her cheek, slathering a streak on her skin. What—in the world—is he doing?
He rubs the wet soil against the granite counter, then on his apron, leaving dark streaks. Before she can wipe it away, he grabs at her wrist, halting her movements. Leaning in close, he whispers, "I'll prove it. Come over with the flowers today." Pulling away, he steps back and tugs the tray under his arm. With a nod, he points at the dirt streak on her cheek. "And don't wipe that away."
Then he turns and disappears.
Iida returns with the water, and he does a double-take when he notices her face, noting the dark streak that runs across one cheek.
"What did he do to you?"
--
The roses are brilliantly white, petals unmarked and soft with youth, even when clutched to suffocation in Uraraka's sweaty hold. She glances at the pristine sign, the word 'OPEN' splayed out to garner attention. She doesn't know why she's so nervous, knees knocking against each other, fingers trembling, heart racing towards an unending finish line.
It's probably because she has no clue what Kirishima is up to.
I'll prove it. Come over with the flowers today. And don't wipe that away.
The streak on her cheek burns and itches, as she fights the urge to scratch it off her face. It's unpleasant, though not unfamiliar, but she'd prefer to appear clean in an almost-always-busy coffee shop.
With an unsteady, shaking breath, she pulls open the door and enters, senses immediately filled with the rich scent of coffee. The business is surprisingly slow, with only a few customers seated and two others lounging on the sofa near the back. Jirou passes her by, sending her a welcoming smile and points at her own cheek.
Uraraka nods and moves to brush it away when Kirishima's voice halts her movements. "Oh? Uraraka! Hello!"
She looks around Jirou to see Kirishima at the register with no customers in sight. Kaminari is resting next to him, and Bakugou is right behind the duo, brewing a new batch of coffee. His face is set in its usual scowl, though it lessens when he notices her presence. She offers a wobbly smile and makes her way to the counter, oblivious to the way Kirishima is grinning with raised brows. Kaminari is staring between her and Bakugou, mischievous grin fighting to stay off his face.
"I have your flowers," she says, internally wincing when she notices the tremor in her voice. Kaminari holds out a hand, and she hands them off to him. With a flourish, he dumps the small vase filled with old lilies and replaces them with the white flowers. He sends a discreet nod (which isn't discreet at all, if she's being honest) to Kirishima and waves at her.
"It's good to see you, but I'm gonna head back and grab more beans," he says, pointing at his empty wrist. "Rush hour is coming."
Before she can say goodbye, he disappears with a wave. Kirishima doesn't move his gaze away from her. "You look pretty today," he comments with leisure.
His bluntness causes her to blush wildly, and she shakes her head, laughing nervously. What's he planning? In her embarrassment, she fails to notice Bakugou's back stiffen. Without a warning, Kirishima pushes out of the little counter door and moves closer to her.
"But, you'd look prettier," he leans in close, slightly bending to her height, "if you didn't have this on your face." He begins to rub at the streak, thumb caressing her soft skin.
"Wha—," she breathes, unable to protrude another word. He's so close to her, she can feel his breath lingering on her skin.
"Play along," he whispers. Then he leans closer to her face, wiping at the dirt streak, thumb moving in gentle circles.
Suddenly, an explosion vibrates behind them, and some of the customers jump at the noise, all eyes falling onto Bakugou. The carafe handle sits in his hand, glass shattered with shards glittering around him. Everything is silent, and all Uraraka can hear is the roar of blood in her ears.
What?
Bakugou's furious gaze switches between her and Kirishima, and his glare sharpens on his hand, which lingers on her face. Jirou runs by, bustling with a broom and pan as she starts to sweep at the shattered glass.
"What's up?" Kirishima asks, lazy smile stretching across his face. He drops his hand from her cheek and rubs it against his apron.
Bakugou swallows heavily, jaw ticking with unsaid words. Glare still heated, he turns away and stalks towards the back. "Fucking nothing," he snarls. The only sound left is Jirou as she sweeps the broken glass into the pan.
Kirishima turns back to Uraraka with a wink. He mouths a quiet, "Told 'ya." Then he starts for the kitchen, shouting, "Don't damage property!"
This leaves her standing in the middle of the shop, heart racing, head nearly delirious from all the blood that has flooded her mind.
Just—what?
--
It turns out that Midoriya had figured it out long ago. So had Todoroki, who even relying on observation alone was able to make out her oblivious emotions. Iida only figures it out when she returns with a reddened face while stumbling into a few of their plants. She knocks her head against one of the hanging junipers, wincing and rubbing at her forehead.
Midoriya appears from the back, wiping his hands on his apron. When he sees her, he gives her an understanding smile. "Kacchan?" he tries. Uraraka isn't sure how deeply she can blush, but here she is, pushing her limits.
"Bakugou?" Iida asks, confusion dusting his voice.
"Kirishima says he likes me back," she mutters, still zoned out from the whole encounter.
"Likes you back?" Iida starts incredulously. "But that would mean that you like him?" She only nods in answer. "When did this happen? I thought you hated him?"
"No," Midoriya simply says. He moves past the counter and grabs Uraraka by her shoulders, leading her behind a counter and into the back room and plopping her on an empty stool. Todoroki is at his work bench, creating a new array of bouquets for the new season. Iida follows them into the back.
"He's so rude, and he—he made you cry. How could you like him?" he asks, waving his arms in confusion.
"He apologized for that," Todoroki adds from his seat, unbothered to look up. He ties the blue bow impeccably and sets it to the side, reaching for more paper to wrap his next bouquet. "He's also much more pleasant to be around whenever Uraraka's present."
Iida flaps his mouth open and close. Then he concedes, "That may be true, but he's still rude and intolerable."
Midoriya nods in agreement. "Kacchan can be complicated. But they make a good pair," he comments, nodding at Uraraka. "I don't think I've ever seen him as happy as he is when he's talking to you."
(Talking? More like bickering.)
She doesn't voice her thought, keeping silent as she curls in on herself. Now, what does she do? What should she do? What can she do?
Midoriya voices her thoughts for her. "Now that you know Kacchan also likes you, what are you going to do?"
"He likes her too?" Iida mutters, glasses glinting with confusion. With a sudden flourish, he turns to her, resolution in his fierce eyes. "I've decided! If he hurts you, I'll kick him to the other end of Japan! I've promised to only use recipro-burst for good, but I'll break the rule for you—"
"Iida," Todoroki interrupts, "I think I heard the bell. The front doesn't have anyone manning it, would you mind catering to it?"
Iida blinks and then salutes them. "Will do!" Then he disappears into the front.
"What you do is your choice," Todoroki continues, now directing his words at Uraraka, who still hasn't moved from her spot. Midoriya pulls a stool from the workbench and situates himself in front of her. "You can either act on your emotions or ignore them."
"Todoroki," Midoriya starts, somewhat of a scold in his tone, "You know it's not that black and white." He turns back to Uraraka, "Whatever you choose to do, just know we all support your decision, and we're all here for you."
This brings a sense of comfort that blankets her in warmth. For the first time, her blush subsides, and she brings her gaze to meet Midoriya's safe smile.
"Thank you."
--
She makes her decision overnight.
Tossing and turning, she wonders whether she should tell him or not. Should she make the first move? Maybe? It would be difficult, but what if he rejects her? What if he accepts her? So many 'what if' questions swim through her mind, that she's not entirely sure what to do.
Sitting up, she runs a hand through her hair and gazes at her clock.
2:26am.
With a groan, she flops back onto the bed and makes a firm decision.
--
"G'morning," Midoriya yawns, stretching a hand. It accidentally knocks into a spider plant, and he starts in response. Iida nods, polishing his glasses, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder.
Curiously, Midoriya peeks past the curtain to see Uraraka at the workbench. Todoroki still hasn't arrived, yet there's a delicate bouquet of daisies sitting on the table. It's swathed in a pink wrapping paper, and folded to the utmost precision, much more differently than her usual creased mess.
"Do we have a client?" he asks, scratching his head. There's no mention of one today, especially at this hour. Uraraka ties a small blue ribbon around one of the stems, a tiny letter attached to the ends. Then using a bigger, yellow ribbon, ties a crooked bow around the bouquet, completing it to the best of her abilities.
"No," she responds. "I do."
Understanding slowly—very slowly—dawns on Midoriya's sleep-addled mind. When she picks it up, his suspicions are confirmed as he moves in for a closer look.
I like you. Will you go out with me? – Round face
"Do you think it's all right?" she asks nervously. Midoriya grins at the bouquet, then at her.
"I think it's perfect." Then, at her sigh of relief, continues, "would you like Iida to make a delivery later today?"
Face coloring, she nods firmly and hands off the bouquet.
--
Iida doesn't say a word, only shows her a thumbs up when he returns from to the shop. Not fifteen minutes later, an explosion shakes the shop next door, and everyone looks up in concern. The hanging plants all swing with vigor, and the baubles that contain succulents gently tinker against each other. A combination of dust, soil, and leaves rain from the ceiling, layering them in a small film of grey.
Uraraka splutters and swipes at her shirt and hair, trying to keep her mind from racing a million miles an hour. Midoriya yelps in dismay just as something crashes in the back room.
(Hopefully, it's another gnome.)
And Iida only shakes his head, removing his glasses to wipe them clean with a handkerchief that's always stuffed in his pocket. When they're clean, he slides them back into place and sets a heavy hand on Uraraka's shoulder.
A quiet message of it's all going to be all right.
It does little to soothe her nerves because in all her experience with Bakugou Katsuki, explosions have never been a good sign. Rather than get herself riled up with her nerves, she continues to do what she normally does: watering the plants, repotting a few, and taking calls from new clients.
An hour later, the bell chimes, and Bakugou storms into the shop, carrying their usual coffee with something else slanted on the tray. She immediately reddens but keeps her stance as casual as she can. He glares at the plants surrounding her but never directly at her.
Instead of putting the tray down on the counter like he normally does, he slams each cup against the granite and finally, slaps a plate down in front of her.
On it is a heart shaped cookie with a scraggly-written 'Fine' piped across in white icing. It's almost illegible, but she manages to make out the answer with trembling hands. When she finally reads it, she looks up to see Bakugou glaring directly at her. He jabs a finger at her and pushes in close.
"Just to be clear, I'm gonna take you out. Not the other way around, got it?"
With a nod, she picks up a coffee cup and hides her barely-stifled smile behind the Ultra Roasts label. He huffs and turns, stuffing the tray underneath his arm and stalking out just as loudly as he had entered. When the bell chimes, she giggles and sips on the coffee, barely able to contain her giddiness.
Picking up the cookie, she uses a moment to admire its crooked heart shape and the almost-illegible writing on top and takes a bite.
Delicious.