The Mechanic- K.Bakugo x reader

The sun had dipped low behind the dorm buildings, casting long shadows across the workshop courtyard. The support course wing was mostly quiet by this hour, the rest of the class already calling it for the night. But Y/N's lights were still on-just like they always were.

Bakugo stepped through the door without knocking. He never did. The faint scent of scorched metal and soldered wires hit him first, along with the low rumble of music playing from her small speaker. He spotted her immediately, crouched over a workbench, goggles pulled down over her eyes as sparks shot up from a welding tool.

"Still alive?" he grunted, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

She didn't hear him. Or she was ignoring him. Either way, she kept working.

He took a few more steps inside just as a sharp snap! rang out-and Y/N cursed under her breath, jerking her hand back.

"The hell happened?" Bakugo barked, instantly at her side.

"I'm fine," she muttered, pulling off the glove from her left hand to inspect her fingers. "Fucking tool sparked. Prototype's being a pain in the ass."

Bakugo eyed her hand with a slight scowl. "You burn yourself?"

"Just a tiny singe," she said, brushing it off like it was nothing. "This shit happens all the time."

"Tch. Dumbass," he muttered, but his tone wasn't harsh. "You've got, like, five different projects laid out, and you're not even watching your damn fingers."

Y/N looked up at him through her lashes, eyebrow raised. "Did you come here to babysit or bitch?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "I came to check on my gear. You said you were reworking the bracing system."

"I am. Left gauntlet's almost done," she replied, standing up straight and wiping the grease on her jumpsuit leg. "I redesigned the interior plate to store more nitroglycerin and added a pressure-absorbing brace over the wrist. You'll be able to fire heavier blasts with less strain. You're welcome, hothead."

Bakugo's brow twitched, but he didn't rise to the nickname bait this time. Instead, he gave her a small, grudging nod.

"Good. I've been using them more since you fixed the first one."

Y/N blinked. That was the closest thing to a compliment she'd gotten from him since this whole thing started.

She turned the music up slightly-some alternative rock band with a steady beat-and returned to the workbench. Bakugo didn't move, just eyed the empty chair pushed up against the far wall and dragged it closer without asking.

He dropped into it with a grunt, arms still crossed as he watched her get back to work. The occasional spark lit up her face in orange and white flashes, the goggles pushed up on her head now. Grease streaked her cheek, her hands moved with practiced precision, and despite the chaos of wires and tools, she looked completely in control.

The silence was companionable-if a little awkward at first. But neither of them broke it.

After another twenty minutes of tinkering, twisting, welding, and sealing, Y/N let out a satisfied breath.

"There," she said, wiping sweat off her brow with her sleeve. "Both gauntlets are finished. Redesigned the right one too so it matches the left. You're set."

Bakugo stood and walked over to her as she slid them toward him on the bench. He picked up one, examining the interior plating and the clean finish. It was efficient. Balanced. Sleek.

He gave a small nod. "They're good."

"Damn right they are," she said with a smug smirk. "And unless you start throwing yourself into buildings, you shouldn't need to bring them back."

"I won't." He looked down at her with something just shy of respect. "You actually made them better."

Y/N just shrugged, suddenly focused on wiping a smear off her wrench. "Told you I'm not just some background techie."

"Tch. Never said you were, tinkerer."

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Anyway," she said, standing again and stretching her back, "I'm gonna start working on the rest of your stuff next. The belt, grenadier bracers, boots-everything you dumped on my bench last week."

Bakugo gave her a look. "You sure you can handle all that?"

"Please," she said, brushing her bangs from her face. "Compared to your temper, that gear's easy."

He let out a low snort that almost sounded like a laugh. Almost. Then he turned toward the door.

"Keep me updated."

"I have your number, dumbass," she called after him. "Try not to miss me too much."

He didn't answer, just threw her a wave over his shoulder before the door swung shut behind him.

And for some reason, Y/N couldn't help the way she smiled just a little before turning the music back up.