Izuku X Ochako (MHA Fanfic)

Class Field Trip

I'm finally out of school!!! :) This chapter ended up being super long, so I decided to split it into two parts. This first half might be boring, but just wait until you get to the next chapter :D

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*Ochako's POV*

Lugging a giant suitcase to class isn't the first thing on my to-do list today, but I carry it around anyway. The excitement spinning around in my mind almost cancels out the tired feeling in my arms. If I hadn't eaten three pancakes this morning, I might have had a chance at lifting my luggage, feeling excited, and not puking all at the same time.

Mina runs up to me with a boisterous smile on her face. "You excited for the field trip?"

"Of course I am. I've only been waiting for weeks," I say. Today, Friday, our class will be riding up to the Heroes History Museum and then staying over night into Saturday, when we'll be going to the Heroes Memorial. We've had this trip planned out for the whole year.

Before boarding the bus, I can't help but notice how bubbly and ecstatic everyone is compared to a usual day. Mineta is actually thinking about something more than boobs—a first—and Bakugo sounds only half as angry as he typically does.

The seating arrangement on the bus goes as follows: Izuku is next to me (I'm in the window seat) and Momo and Todoroki are across from us. Somewhere along the three hour ride, my eyelids begin to fall and, without my knowledge, I end up sleeping for the rest of the ride. Only when I get tapped on the shoulder lightly by Izuku do I know we've reached the hotel.

"We're here, Ochako. You have to wake up," Izuku whispers, making sure not to startle me.

I stagger out of the comfortable seat, my foot tingling. Izuku and I rush to catch up with the rest of the class, who are already at the front door of the hotel.

From what I've heard, this hotel is supposed to be highly regarded. But when I actually walk in, I never expect it to be as extravagant as it is. The main lobby is enormous with a carpet rolling through it as if our class is filled with celebrities. Two unstained, white futons sit in the hotel rooms, which come with sheets that smell of fresh roses like they've recently been washed. The staff must take care of their rooms judging by their pristine condition. Mina rolls in with her suitcase after me, plopping it onto the futon near the window. She happens to be my roommate for the night.

After checking into the hotel, we finally head to the museum, which is so close that we only have to walk for five minutes to reach it. Surely everyone in class has been here before, but that doesn't mean we've explored it in depth as Mr. Aizawa wants us to do.

I'm surprised at how much I missed when visiting this museum as a kid. I completely skipped over all the wax statues and hero descriptions when I first came here in elementary school. Every time we pass something remotely hero related (especially if it's All Might), Izuku stops to glance at it in awe, reading any and all writing that comes with the exhibit.

"Haven't you been here before?" I ask.

"Of course I have. I was five and could barely read," he sarcastically says.

After exploring the rest of the museum, Mr. Aizawa asks us what the most interesting thing we saw was. When he gets to me, I tell him it was the pictures of the UA students. There was a part of there museum that was dedicated to UA hero classes. Photos of each class were pinned up on the wall, and the newest edition was our class. I guess it's interesting to know that you're in a museum, because everyone will be seeing you.

Afterwards, our class goes out to eat before heading back to the hotel. It's 8:15 now, so I hop in the shower after Mina because there's not much else to do. We scroll through Instagram for the time being until I stumble on a post by Momo, which I look twice at before processing. It's of Izuku and I when we were on the bus. We were both fast asleep, leaning against each other, unaware of the photo that was being taken of us. The caption under saying relationship goals, which has me even more embarrassed. And then I see the likes. 169 of them. 169. That means at least 169 people have seen the post, not to mention the ones that didn't like it.

"M-Mina! Have you seen this?" I ask.

She laughs for what feels like forever until finally spitting the words out. "You finally noticed? Oh my god, this is priceless. Your face is so red!"

"Why d-didn't you tell me?" I say with urgency.

"C'mon, Ochako, it's cute. You've gotta admit it. Plus, this is just really funny," Mina laughs.

I glance at the post one more time, and I'll admit that it's cute. We look good together. But then I'm reminded of the likes and the fact that Izuku might not have seen it yet.

"Sorry, Mina. I've got to go." I rush out the door and check to my left and right to make sure Mr. Aizawa isn't patrolling the halls. I need to find Izuku and tell him about the photo, so I run all the way down to the end of the hall until I reach his room. I give three light knocks, hoping it'll be him and not whoever his roommate is.

I hear a creek from the door and look up from the carpeted floor. There, standing in the doorway, is Izuku. Except he's only got a towel around his waist and, judging by the fact that water is dripping from his neck down, he's just finished taking a shower.

"O-Ochako?" Izuku stutters, his eyes widening.

"W-why don't you have any clothes on?" I ask, stunned at the image before me. If someone offered me 1,000 dollars to stop staring at Izuku's toned upper body, I honestly wouldn't take it. My eyes glide over every inch of his muscles, and the only thing I can do is try to be discrete about it.

"Well I was e-expecting Kaminari," he says. "And of course I'm wearing clothes."

As my eyes dart over his body, I can't find a single sign of fabric. All I see is my half-naked boyfriend fresh out of the shower, only covered by one layer: a towel that he's slowly loosening his grip on. As his hold on the white cloth becomes looser and looser, my heartbeat goes faster and faster, and I can't help but wonder if he's made a grave mistake and he's not actually wearing anything under the towel. Just focus on his face, I tell myself. His eyes are what I'm concentrating on the most as he drops the cloth. My mind tells me not to, I look down just for a second and my eyes meet black shorts.

I breathe a sigh of—I don't know—relief? Maybe even disappointment? I feel my face flush at my own thoughts. Disappointment? What the hell is wrong with me?

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The next chapter will continue directly from this one.