ARMOR [Bakugo Katsuki x reader]

10: smoke signals

Asking for space from Bakugo was a blessing and a curse. He obliged to not bring any food whenever he stopped by, and the random check-in was limited to texts whenever you finished for the day. It was what you had asked for, and you were somewhat grateful that he listened. Except that it was fucking boring to sit day in and day out, tweaking with shitty equipment, without Bakugo's quips in the background.

Not that you'd go back on your word. He'd never let me hear the end of it.

So, until you could swallow your pride – you worked in silence. When your phone lit up with an incoming message, you nearly leaped over your chair to get to it. Anything to get a brief break from the endless stitches. Thin thread through needle and needle through fabric wasn't exactly the most stimulating task.

BAKUGO: You have time for measurements today?

YOU: Yeah. I'm free whenever.

BAKUGO: I'm joining shitty hair. 15 mins or so.

You liked the message, before exiting the message chat with Bakugo. Right as you did so, a message ticked in from your dad.

DAD: You can come in on the fifteenth for the patent application. I have an out-of-office meeting so your mom will help you. The rest of the supplies you ordered are ETA on the seventh.

Huh, that was fast. After Power Loader had gone over the sensor in more detail with you the other day, he proposed that you get a patent on it – so no one could steal it. And since you had used items from VFE – you needed to get their approval. Here you thought your parents would put a stop to it, but your dad had been surprisingly fast.

YOU: Thank you.

DAD: Is that how you answer all of your suppliers?

YOU: Totally. Not because we're related and shit.

DAD: Sarcasm doesn't suit you.

You rolled your eyes, before closing your phone. Not bothering enough to dislike the message either. Knowing that Bakugo would appear any minute, you started to get the measurement tape and a piece of paper to write down the notes. Right as you set everything up nicely, you heard the door to the main area of the workstations open, followed by Kirishima's bright and cheerful voice.

A few seconds later, the door to your workstation creaked open and Bakugo shuffled inside. He was sporting a bruise on his shoulder, on his good shoulder thankfully.

"Did you piss off a boulder?" you asked, gesturing to the blue mark on his shoulder. Mirth shone in your eyes as you looked at his wandering gaze, his nose scrunching at the sight of the bruise.

"No, I sparred with shitty hair," he grumbled as he stuck his hands into his pockets, "One can argue that is the same."

A small smile tugged at your lips at his response. Even though you had been looking forward to him stopping by, though you'd rather die than admit to it, it was obvious that there was some tension. Bakugo glanced towards the mess of fabrics and plates on your desk, and he raised an eyebrow as if to get some information.

Instead of answering you made a gesture with your hand for him to remove his school uniform shirt, and he grunted only in response. While you searched for the measuring tape, you heard him rustle with his clothes – and when you turned, you realized the arm brace you had made for him was back on. Seriously, why did he push himself so hard?

"Your arm okay?" you asked as you moved to stand behind him, to measure out a diagonal line from his shoulder to his waist.

"It's fucking shitty," he muttered. "Has been. Will continue to be. No need to sound worried."