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The morning sun streamed through the windows of Class 1-A's classroom as the students of UA High gathered, whispering among themselves about the upcoming gala event. The prestigious event, meant to celebrate the heroes and students alike, had sent waves of excitement and dread through the class. For most of the students, the idea of attending such a formal event sounded like an awkward and tedious affair. However, they knew that it was something they were expected to attend, and everyone was already talking about the preparations.

Y/N sat at her desk, running her fingers absentmindedly over the edge of her notebook, her gaze distant. She wasn't excited about the gala—not in the least. The idea of standing around in a fancy dress while all eyes were on her felt uncomfortable. She was more suited to the casual hangouts at cafes or the quiet study sessions she usually spent with her friends. But a formal event? A gala? That was a different story entirely.

"This is going to be a nightmare," Y/N muttered under her breath. Mina, sitting beside her, overheard and gave a light chuckle.

"Come on, Y/N! It's not going to be that bad. You'll get to dress up and have fun. Think of all the food," Mina teased, nudging her playfully.

"I'm not worried about food," Y/N replied with a half-smile, trying to push aside the unease that had settled in her stomach. "I'm more worried about everything else."

Before Mina could respond, the door to the classroom swung open, and in walked Aizawa. His usual no-nonsense attitude took over the room as his tired eyes scanned the students. "Alright, listen up. The gala is tomorrow, and as part of your training, you'll each be paired up with someone to help prepare. This is a mandatory part of your education: learning to work together, even in a formal setting. The pairings are random, so you don't get to choose."

There was a collective groan from the students. Most of them had already formed their own groups, and no one wanted to be stuck working with someone they didn't get along with. But the seriousness in Aizawa's voice made it clear that there was no negotiating.

"Alright, I'm calling out the pairs," Aizawa continued, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, knowing the reactions were about to be entertaining. He read off the first few names, most of them matched up in pairs that made sense. Kirishima and Mina. Todoroki and Momo.

Then he got to the last one.

"Y/N... you're paired with Bakugo."

The words hung in the air like a bomb about to explode. Y/N's face drained of color, and her heart skipped a beat. Of all people, she had to be paired with Bakugo? The same Bakugo who was always brash, arrogant, and constantly making her feel like she was walking on eggshells.

"Wait, what?" Y/N couldn't help herself. She raised her voice slightly in surprise. "You've got to be kidding me."

Mina, sitting beside her, shot her a sympathetic look but couldn't hold back a laugh. "Well, looks like you two are going to have a blast."

Y/N shot her a glare, clearly not finding it amusing. She couldn't help but feel the pressure building. There was no way this could be smooth. She and Bakugo barely spoke outside of class or training, and when they did, it was usually a result of some argument. How were they supposed to work together for a formal event?

"Got a problem with that?" Bakugo's voice cut through her thoughts. She turned her head to find him already glaring at her. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking entirely uninterested in the situation. But Y/N could see the faint glint of challenge in his eyes.

"I just think it's a bad idea," Y/N replied, trying to keep her voice calm, though she could feel the heat of annoyance rising in her chest. "We don't exactly get along."

Bakugo's eyes narrowed slightly, his usual scowl deepening. "Don't make it a bigger deal than it is. Just get it over with," he grumbled, leaning forward and grabbing his bag from the floor. "I'll do my part."

Y/N could feel her frustration mounting. Of course, Bakugo wouldn't care about the tension between them. He never did.

"I didn't exactly volunteer for this either," Y/N muttered under her breath, but Bakugo had already tuned her out, his attention back on the rest of the class.

"Alright, that's all for today," Aizawa said, his voice sharp. "You two are responsible for handling the majority of the gala preparations. Make sure you get it done. You'll have the rest of the afternoon to work on it. I suggest you don't waste time."

Y/N tried to ignore the feeling of dread that washed over her. How could she be stuck with Bakugo of all people for something so important?

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class. The students quickly began to pack up, all eager to avoid the looming responsibilities of the gala preparations. Y/N stayed seated for a moment longer, watching as the others filed out of the room. She wasn't ready to face the prospect of spending the entire afternoon with Bakugo.

"You coming or not?" Bakugo's voice broke through her thoughts. He was already standing by the door, waiting for her with his usual impatient stance.

Y/N took a deep breath, gathering her courage. She wasn't about to let him intimidate her. Not this time.

"Fine, I'm coming," she replied, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She wasn't sure what to expect from the next few hours, but she was about to find out.

As they exited the classroom together, the weight of the situation felt heavier with each step. It was going to be a long afternoon, and Y/N had no idea how things would unfold.

But one thing was for sure: there was no way this would be easy.

Y/N and Bakugo walked down the halls of UA High, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet school. The tension between them was palpable, a silence hanging in the air that neither seemed eager to break. Bakugo's hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his face set in its usual scowl, while Y/N kept her eyes forward, trying to focus on anything but the awkwardness of being stuck with him.

They reached the designated room where the gala preparations were supposed to take place. It was a large room, cluttered with various decorations, fabric swatches, and papers strewn about. A few students from other classes were already working, but the space was mostly empty.

"So," Y/N started, trying to break the silence, "what exactly are we supposed to be doing here?"

Bakugo grunted but didn't immediately respond. He scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. Y/N could see him visibly stiffen, clearly not thrilled with the idea of spending more time than necessary on this task.

"This is supposed to be about the arrangements for the gala," Bakugo finally muttered. "We're probably supposed to handle the decorations, or some shit like that. Don't act like you don't know what's going on."

Y/N sighed but chose to bite her tongue. It wasn't worth arguing. "Yeah, I know," she replied. "But it would help if we had some kind of plan. You know, communication and stuff."

Bakugo snorted, walking toward a table with several large rolls of cloth and a pile of decorative items. "Communication? That's a joke. You're the one who needs to keep up."

Y/N's eyes widened, but she held back her retort. He was impossible. Instead, she took a deep breath and decided to make the best of the situation. "Fine. So, what do we do first?"

Bakugo glared at her briefly, then jerked his head toward the large wall of fabric rolls. "Start with those. We need something that matches the theme."

Y/N nodded and walked over to the fabric, pulling out a few rolls and scanning them. She could hear Bakugo muttering to himself as he began sorting through the papers scattered across the table.

As she ran her fingers over the rich, silky material, she couldn't help but steal a glance at him. He seemed so focused, his brow furrowed in concentration. She knew he wasn't the type to show much emotion, but there was something different in the way he approached this task—like he was taking it seriously, in his own way.

"I don't get it," she said, more to herself than to him. "Why are we stuck with this, anyway? Doesn't seem like your kind of thing."

Bakugo didn't look up from his papers, but his voice was unexpectedly calm. "Doesn't matter if it's my thing or not. It's our job. We do it."

Y/N blinked, surprised by the tone of his voice. There was no usual sarcasm or harshness, just a flat, matter-of-fact response. It wasn't like Bakugo to be so neutral, especially about something like this.

She decided to press a little further, curiosity getting the better of her. "But you're not, like, into this whole 'fancy event' thing, are you? I mean, you're usually not exactly the 'dress-up' type."

Bakugo's jaw tightened, and he finally glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I don't need to like it to get it done."

Y/N wasn't sure why, but there was something oddly... reassuring about that. Maybe it was his blunt honesty or the way he had that rare moment of vulnerability—he didn't care about the event or the fancy preparations, but he would still get it done.

"I get it," she replied softly. "I guess we should just focus on the task then, right?"

"Good idea," Bakugo muttered, turning back to the table.

The next few hours passed in relative silence. Y/N and Bakugo worked together in a somewhat awkward, yet surprisingly effective way. There was no loud arguing, no snide remarks, just the quiet hum of productivity. They moved from fabric rolls to color palettes to setting up various props and decorations.

At some point, Bakugo spoke again, his tone uncharacteristically neutral. "You're not as bad at this as I thought."

Y/N blinked in confusion, unsure whether he was joking or being serious. "Uh, thanks?" she replied, glancing at him warily.

Bakugo gave a small grunt and shrugged. "You're just getting in the way less than usual."

Y/N fought to hold back a laugh. "Is that your version of a compliment?"

Bakugo didn't answer, but she could swear she saw the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It was as close to a compliment as she was ever going to get from him.

After a while, they paused to take a break, both leaning against the table as they looked over the work they had done so far. Y/N stretched her arms above her head, feeling the tension in her muscles. It was strange—she'd expected this task to be much more uncomfortable, but somehow, working with Bakugo was... easier than she thought it would be.

"So, what's next?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

Bakugo didn't respond right away, but his eyes flickered over the room before settling back on her. "We still need to get everything in place. We're probably going to have to move everything into the main hall later. But for now, just finish up with the tablecloths and seating arrangements."

Y/N nodded, grabbing a stack of cloths and starting to fold them. There was something oddly intimate about the way they worked together—nothing overt, nothing blatant, just the shared task at hand. No one was interrupting, no one was criticizing; it felt like they were both in sync, without even trying.

For a brief moment, as she caught him watching her from the corner of her eye, Y/N couldn't help but wonder if this awkward pairing was the start of something new. The realization hit her like a wave, and for a moment, she paused, lost in the thought. She quickly shook it off, not wanting to admit even to herself that maybe, just maybe, Bakugo wasn't all bad.

"Done?" Bakugo's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she nodded, grabbing the last few pieces of cloth to finish.

"Yeah, done," she replied, feeling a bit flushed, though she couldn't place why.

With a slight grunt, Bakugo moved toward the door. "We'll finish the rest tomorrow. Just don't screw it up."

Y/N watched him go, a mixture of frustration and something else swirling in her chest. She wasn't sure what to make of their time together, but she had a feeling things were far from over.