Work Text:
Shouto tried not to look too excited when Bakugou said he would be working until late the next day, but must have failed, because:
"Well don't look too sad," Bakugou grumbled, pointing his chopsticks at Shouto’s face.
Shouto merely hummed. He had plans. Plans involving the kitchen, a fantastic dinner, and a confession that would hopefully get him a boyfriend by the end of it. Ever since his family had come over, the realization of feelings kept surfacing up to his thoughts, bobbing for attention and for something to be done lest he pine forever.
He had been thinking of how to approach the situation for a while now, wondering if he should confess at all, or stave it off for later, or do it out of the blue, or/or/or. In the end he chose to confess on Christmas Eve, a time usually spent with significant others, and do it through cooking a meal that would amaze and astound and win Bakugou's heart.
So really, Bakugou's leave was perfect, and offered Shouto to opportunity to have free reign over the kitchen. Nothing would go wrong, nothing could go wrong. Just like Murphy's Law.
"What time will you be back?" Shouto inquired, hiding his expression by holding his rice bowl over his face (the most effective disguise). He prided himself on holding an successful poker face, but somehow with Bakugou, Shouto was always a mess.
"Six," Bakugou answered freely, then paused as if sensing something wrong. "Why."
"Nothing," Shouto replied. Rice depleted, he put it down and gulped down some water instead.
A look, suspicious and withering. "Are you planning a party with those idiots?"
This, Shouto could answer. "No. The party will be in two days, not tomorrow."
A groan, exasperated and irritated. "Fuck."
Shouto quirked a small smile. "Did you forget?"
"Fuck," Bakugou repeated, all the answer Shouto needed.
He hummed. It had been a while since all of Class 1-a had come together. Of course there were small gatherings here and there, of closer groups and individual hangouts, but to see everyone together in one spot was not as common anymore. Personally, he was looking forward to seeing all their friends again, and he knew deep down that Bakugou was too (not that he'd ever admit it though, excitement hiding behind that scowl).
Despite the excitement however, Shouto had more imminent thoughts at hand, and they remained in his mind for the rest of the evening.
Tomorrow/tomorrow/tomorrow.
.
With a short wave returned with an even shorter one, Shouto shut the door and immediately headed to the kitchen. He placed his phone on the counter where he had several tabs open containing the recipes to Bakugou's heart: spicy, flavourful and made with love.
(Alright. So maybe cold soba was on the menu too, but Shouto didn't want all his taste buds obliterated, thanks).
He was planning a three course meal consisting of an appetizer, the main course and dessert. Hence why he actually woke up early to see Bakugou off instead of snoozing the many alarms that nagged at him; with all the food he wanted to make, he needed time. And lots of it.
Luckily he had eight hours to cook, which seemed to be more than enough time to prepare everything. He decided to prepare all the fillings and batters ahead of time now and start assembling and frying an hour before Bakugou was set to come home.
The gyoza filling came together easily; a simple pork and chive mix his sister had taught him so long ago in a house that was no longer a home. He wrapped it up with foil and put it in the fridge to marinate before starting the okonomiyaki batter. The cabbage was chopped into tiny strips which soaked up and floated in the egg and flour batter before it joined the gyoza filling in the fridge, greeting it with a soft thump on the same shelf.
White sesame seeds were roasted over medium heat next, and he waited until they sheened a golden brown and popped from the pan before grinding them into a paste in the fancy mortar and pestle set Bakugou insisted was necessary on having. Shouto added mirin, sake and sugar, mixing it until it formed the sauce for the spinach gomae. By this time an hour and a half had gone by, which he saw as a massive success.
In fact, the whole cooking process seemed to be going extremely well.
Suspiciously well.
Hm. Shouto chalked it up to his increasingly proficient cooking skills – a vast improvement to the terror he was before – and resumed making the gyoza after his break. He spooned some filling in the store bought gyoza wrappers and sealed it, crimping the edges with messy folds he deemed unique and Bakugou would deem as 'fuckin awful' and Fuyumi would deem as 'cute'. Placing the last one down on the plate of other unique gyozas, he put it back in the fridge to fry for later.
It was then that he realized they had no more eggs, which were vital for the matcha pastry cream and the chicken karaage he had been planning on making. Oh well.
Deciding to prep the prawns and rice before going to the store, Shouto started to devein each individual prawn. He had never really worked with prawns before, always letting Bakugou handle it, but Shouto had watched YouTube videos and proclaimed himself an expert after watching a few. He gripped the slippery crustacean in one hand and a tiny knife in the other, and began to slice the prawn, only to nick himself instead.
Ah. Unphased, he washed the tiny cut and put a bandaid on it, continuing on.
The same deal: armed with a prawn and a knife and the task to remove that pesky vein, Shouto carefully used the knife to cut into the prawn but it was a slippery slope and a slippery prawn and it slipped onto the bowl, knife flailing away from him-
Another small cut. Still unphased but slightly irritated, Shouto got another bandaid. He checked the time, noting that there were only two more hours left before the highly anticipated eta of his roommate. Ah. He decided to skip the step of deveining, already thinking of ways to ignore Bakugou's beratement over it, and added salt, white pepper, cornstarch and sake to the bowl, mixing it together until everything was coated.
The rice was next, and it was happily put on the stove, the fire set on max before Shouto grabbed his wallet to get some eggs. The store was only a minute away, and if he was quick enough, he would be back just in time for the rice to finish its bubbling and be ready.
The picturesque and strategic time planning stayed in his mind as he grabbed the eggs on the shelf and went to line up. It was quite a long line actually, but it was alright because there didn't seem to be too many items in people’s baskets so the line would move quickly except wait, why was there a giant lizard running out of the store with bags of kale and the cash register-
With a sigh, Shouto gingerly placed the eggs on the counter (he was just about to pay) and ran after the thief, putting one foot down to freeze the lizard in place.
Thief apprehended and police on the scene a few minutes later, he hastily explained the situation before finally paying for his eggs and heading back home.
All he could think about was rice/rice/rice and how maybe, just maybe it was still salvageable but when he entered the hallway, he could see some smoke emanating from beneath his apartment door, a faint hazy thing that would escalate if not taken care of.
The key was inserted, the door was wrenched, and Shouto was expecting a fire and disaster and anything but an unamused Bakugou, still in his hero suit, standing by the kitchen and scraping off some charred rice from the stove.
"Where the flying fuck were you, hah?" Bakugou demanded, whirling around dramatically. "The kitchen nearly caught on fuckin' fire!"
Shouto winced, mind flying from one excuse (whoops) to another (oops), only to blurt out: "You're back early."
"Good thing I did," Bakugou growled, turning back to continue scraping and offering no reason why he was back earlier than expected.
Now that the adrenaline was slowly wearing off, Shouto realized abruptly that his plans were all ruined. The image in his mind, a nicely set up table with neatly arranged dishes and a lit candle he read was meant to be romantic, were all gone down the drain. Instead, Bakugou was cleaning up blackened rice from the stove while the kitchen was still in messy shambles, dishes strewn around the counter and unwiped trails of batter sticking on the island.
"Ah, sorry Katsuki..." Shouto said, stepping up beside his roommate and grappling for the scrubber. "I thought I would make it back in time."
"Never leave the fire on and go out, dumbass. Anything can fucking happen," Bakugou griped, releasing his hold on the scrubber so Shouto could clean it himself.
"I won't do it next time," Shouto promised, because he knew now that leaving the stove unattended and going to the store in a world where thieving lizards existed was a bad idea.
Bakugou sighed, and that seemed to be the end of the mellow tirade. He glanced at the counter and the stove, then at Shouto, who looked away sheepishly. "So that's why you looked all excited yesterday. You wanted to cook... without me."
"I wanted to cook for you," Shouto corrected.
He watched Bakugou's expression carefully, seeing interest and hope and confusion filter through them like a lagging stop motion video chugging along to an undiscernible ending of casual indifference.
"Well, don't let me stop you," Bakugou smirked. He started to walk away, but continued: "I'll help you in a bit, Icyhot."
Help was actually much needed, now that Shouto thought about it. He still had a lot of things to fry and bake, and the thought of doing it by himself while Bakugou lounged in the living room, waiting, was daunting. Luckily, he would lend a helping hand, so Shouto scrubbed at the stove feeling more light-hearted.
When the stove looked as good as it did before The Incident™, Shouto prepared a fresh batch of rice and put it on the stove, keeping a close eye on it as he made the pastry cream.
Cream puffs were something he found himself indulging in every once in a while. The shell provided a crisp base for the luscious filling inside, a sweetened creamy center with endless flavour combinations. Matcha was his favourite, as it's slight bitterness countered the sweetness of the overall dessert, and it satisfied his sweet tooth and tea cravings all in one go.
While they were difficult to make, he had made decent ones under his sister and mother's tutelage, and he hoped the current ones would be just as successful as his previous endeavour.
Judging by the way the cream poured smoothly from the sieve, the light green filling pooling in the bowl, it seemed that it would be. He sneaked a taste, humming in delight at the flavour. He pressed cling film to the cream and placed it in the fridge to cool, which was the time when Bakugou strolled in, small towel draped across his nape to catch the stray droplets of water from his hair.
Ah. He had taken a shower then. Shouto tried not to focus too much on the blond's presence lest it distract him-
"Oi," there went Shouto's peace of mind. "What d'ya still have left to make?"
"Just frying the karaage, cooking the ebi chilli, okonomiyaki and preparing the hiyayakko tofu," Shouto listed off, already thinking of what to do next.
"Huh."
"Huh?"
"You're putting a lot of effort into this."
Yes, because-
"I like you."
Wait.
"Took you long enough."
Wait.
Shouto had yet to process the entire conversation, and looking at Bakugou's smooth demeanor and amused eyes did not help him at all.
I like you, he replayed in his mind. Oh. So he had just confessed.
And.
Took you long enough, he replayed, pressed paused, and rewinded to replay it again. What did it mean...?
"It means," Bakugou said, stepping forwards to cup the side of Shouto's face gently (like he had done when his parents came, when Shouto was in a foul mood, when the days were rough)- "that I fuckin' like you too."
Oh.
Shouto.exe has stopped working and is now proceeding to screech to a full stop altogether as Bakugou tilts his head and leans in to steal his first kiss.
(It felt like home.)
Shouto felt his heart race (out of shock/out of giddiness) even after they parted, foreheads touching. He gazed at those carmine red eyes dazedly and for once, Bakugou made no comment on his probably stupid expression. Instead his lip curled up into a fond smile, which Shouto returned tenfold, a fleeting feeling of euphoria and joy flowing from his heart to his beam showing teeth and love, love, love.
"You knew all this time?" Shouto asked, still recalling took you long enough.
"You weren't subtle," Bakugou pointed out.
A small pout. "Why didn't you say anything?"
A pause. Then:
"I wanted you to figure it out on your own," Bakugou said with a shrug.
I didn't want to pressure you, Shouto heard, and his smile returned, not as bright but still as endeared.
"I was going to tell you tonight," Shouto admitted, pulling away from the intense gaze. He felt flustered suddenly, and made himself busy with finishing the cream puffs. If he stayed interlocked with Bakugou for any longer, it would turn into a forever, which.
Wasn't awful per se.
But at that moment, forever seemed to be theirs anyways; dinner on the other hand...
"Help me fry?" Shouto asked, turning back when there wasn't a response. He saw Bakugou with a contemplative look on his face, a far cry from the usual resting murder face. "Katsuki?"
"Yeah, yeah," Bakugou said, snapping out of the funk and grabbing his apron.
They fell into the usual fry routine, Bakugou at the helm doing the actual frying while Shouto floured, egged and breaded the food about to be fried. Then, when he was out of things to prepare, he would stand beside his roommate and stare at the pan, mesmerized as the food would bubble and hiss and gain a flavour and texture never achieved without the use of oil. This time however...
He hugged Bakugou's back, head resting comfortably on his shoulder to watch the chicken fry from a first hand view. Other than a small grumble, there were no objections and he clung on a tad tighter with a giddy smile.
"You're like a koala," Bakugou complained, but there was no heat behind his words.
"Then you would be a eucalyptus tree," Shouto countered.
Like all things Shouto found witty, Bakugou decidedly did not, and he flicked the other's forehead.
"Should I leaf you alone," Shouto said.
"Set the table," Bakugou replied, face grumpy but eyes amused.
Shouto set the table, retrieving more and more dishes to be added to the feast before Bakugou delivered the last of the chicken karaage, and they sat down, both eager to dig in.
"Itadakimasu!"
It was both surprising and not how little everything changed and didn't.
Even if he had just confessed, it felt like somehow they had skipped past the frivolous phase of dating, their honeymoon, their first kiss and straight into a domestic old married couple who squabbled about anything and everything but still came together in the end, love tying them together fiercely with it's own passionate embrace.
He supposed that living with someone – not only having to deal with their antics and habits and ticks, but accept them too – and working together to live in harmony was a skill they managed to conquer. Maybe not from the get go, but when was any skill easy from the start?
Hmm. He turned his focus back on eating, battling Bakugou for the last piece of shrimp with his chopsticks before relenting. The spicy dish wasn't his favourite, but it was fun to tease anyways, it always was.
So far the other hadn't mentioned anything about the food, but he didn’t have to; his contentedness said all there was. Shouto smiled into his soba, slurping the cold noodles with gusto.
"How was work?" He asked, going in to refill his bowl.
Bakugou pulled a face, lip downturning. "You heard of Transfer?"
When Shouto shook his head, Bakugou continued: "she's a shitty new villain. We've been trying to catch her but she managed to slip away again."
"What's her quirk?"
A sharper downturn. "We don't fuckin know yet. Every person she's affected so far all went to the hospital for different reasons; broken arms, heart attacks, a damaged mind..."
"How does that work?" Shouto wondered.
"Well she calls herself Transfer," Bakugou said. "We're thinking she might be able to transfer pain in some way."
"Ah, that would explain the different effects she has..."
Bakugou hmmed shortly. Shouto wondered about the effects the quirk would have on someone. Transferring pain... Wouldn't she have to be the conductor of such agony then?
He slurped some more soba, noodles fueling his thoughts.
In all his musings, he failed to noticed a white box thump on the table right in front of him. He looked at it, then up at his roommate who pushed it towards Shouto, a silent beckoning of open it.
Shouto opened it carefully, painstakingly peeling off the tape holding the edges together so that it would open up cleanly. (He ignored the tapping foot and the eyeroll).
Inside was a strawberry shortcake, a typical cake for Christmas Eve, but somehow Shouto felt it was connected to-
"You fuckin’ like strawberries right," Bakugou asked as a statement with red tinged ears, sitting down with a knife in his grip like it was another appendage.
"Yes," Shouto said with great enthusiasm that stemmed from his heart melting and thoughts racing.
Bakugou graciously offered Shouto the first slice (as opposed to the usual battle for who-gets-it-first) and he wondered if this was what being boyfriends meant: getting first dibs on cake.
Still, he waited for Bakugou to cut his own slice before digging in with a happy hum or two. The fluffy cake was lightly sweetened, most of the sweetness coming from the light cream and ripe strawberries. But even as his tastebuds sang for joy, his heart sang louder; even as his stomach got full, his heart felt fuller.
Their smiles conveyed all that was needed to.
…the kiss even more so.
(As opposed to the past few years of raucous Christmas Eves in the dorms, everyone clamouring in excitement for the next day with decorations strewn up tackily on the wall and songs sung about relatable Grinches and scandalous mistletoe, this one felt more subdued. But not lacking, never lacking, because despite the absence of many, the presence of Katsuki made Shouto just as happy.)
fin.