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Shouto sighed, rolling onto his back for what felt like the thousandth time that night and throwing an arm over his eyes, masking the few tears that pricked his eyes.
He was so, so tired, but he couldn't fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried. He raised his arm and took a peek at his clock, set up next to his tatami mat; 2:02 am.
When he was younger, Fuyumi used to tuck him in after Mother left. He was always out like a light after her lullabies...the same ones Mother used to sing.
Tears pricked his eyes again and his breath hitched as he covered his eyes. They were already red and puffy from the crying he'd been doing all night. God, he missed Fuyumi. Missed her cooking, missed her kindness. He missed Mother, and Natsuo. He even missed the way the house felt, even if it burned with the stench of his Father whenever he was around, the ashes of their happiness in his wake.
He missed the warmth his siblings' hugs gave him, the way the table felt when they gathered. The way Fuyumi would always make sure he had everything before he left in the morning, the way Natsuo would rush out the door with a 'goodbye', leaving early for his own classes.
He didn't miss his parents. He didn't miss their home, not for the place it was. But God, he missed his siblings.
His eyes shot open as a familiar smell met his nose, making his eyes water again.
That's Fuyumi's. The same one she shared with Bakugou and Midoriya when they came over last month.
The same meal she'd cooked time and time again, the easiest one for her to make. It reminded him of when Mother was still around, days Father was off working.
He didn't think about the fact that it was 2 am. He didn't think about the fact that he had handed that recipe off to Bakugou a mere few days prior. He didn't think about how angry he might be if he stumbled downstairs.
He just got up, following the smell and the nostalgia it brought with it.
He thought for just a moment about whether the elevator or stairs would be smarter, but chose the stairs, due to its lack of sound. He wiped the few tears left in his eyes and did his best to walk down the stairs calmly, without stumbling too terribly.
-----
Katsuki wasn't really sure why he had woken up at 2 am, nor was he sure why he decided to make that recipe Half n Half's sister had handed off-Fuyumi, was it?-but he was fucking hungry and if he wanted to rectify that, he would.
It was simple. Probably something she served often, something simple enough to make at 2 am without causing too much of a disturbance.
He had to admit, she wasn't half bad. Though there was...something slightly off about the proportions. For now, though, he just made it the way she had; he didn't have it in him to fix it right now.
He was about halfway through when Icyhot suddenly showed up, carefully stepping down the stairs but still managing to make a bit of a clatter. He was clearly tired as all Hell, so why the fuck was he down here?
He approached Katsuki, his eyes seeming to shine over a little with tears. His eyes were red and puffy and his whole face looked...tired, but mostly mentally.
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, and let out a little huff. "The fuck you down here for, Icyhot?"
The other only sniffled, and whispered, "I smelled Fuyumi's cooking."
Now Katsuki knew shit all about homesickness; he didn't particularly...like his parents, since they were never around in the first place, he didn't have much emotional attachment to the damn house in the first place, and he didn't have any siblings. The only good memories from that home that he still had were hazy memories of Deku coming over, his father singing lullabies to lull him to sleep, and his mother making dinner.
And even then, he could barely remember it.
But he could understand yearning for a meal you haven't had in a long time. Yearning to experience the way it's made again, remembering moments that are linked to its unique taste.
He understood missing someone's cooking. ...he hadn't had his mother's in years.
He understood that Todoroki's sister basically raised him herself, understood that she was the cook of the family.
Understood that the oddities in the recipe would feel like home.
So when Todoroki asked with a shaky voice if he'd be willing to share, Katsuki paused just a moment before he sighed and nodded.
He didn't fail to notice the dumbass wiping a few tears from his eyes, or his little 'thank you'.
He finished it a little more quickly than he thought he would, the small sniffles coming from Todoroki suddenly bringing urgency into his movements. He didn't know fucking why, he barely gave a shit about him, but there was something in him that screamed that he needed to make sure he was happy again as soon as possible.
Dammit, Shitty hair was right. He's going soft.
He served Todoroki a plate first before serving himself one and heading up to his room; he knew for a fact it'd be awkward with just the two of them down there.
He didn't miss the few tears that leaked from Todoroki's eyes though.
He tried his own plate when he got to his room, the off-kilter proportions reminding him of something homemade, something he would never make himself.
He thought of the way Todoroki stumbled down the stairs. Reasoned to himself that if this recipe was great, others had to be.
He finished off his plate and set it on his desk to deal with later before sending a quick text, setting his phone to the side and curling back into his blankets, something like content settling inside him, like he'd done something he was clearly supposed to do.
'Hey, dumbass, you have any more recipes? The one you gave me wasn't half bad.'
-------
Surprisingly enough, after that first night, Bakugou continued making the recipes, clearly having asked Fuyumi for more.
A bit of pride settled in his heart at the notion that even Bakugou appreciated his sister's cooking.
Every time he made one, he texted Shouto or called him down. He never mentioned it, merely passed him the meal and continued on doing his own thing.
But Shouto thought there was something to be repaid.
Something to give back in exchange for memories he hadn't thought of in years and feelings he missed dearly, recipes exactly as Fuyumi used to make them.
(That alone spoke to Bakugou's skill, if he could recreate something that exactly with minimal direction in terms of methods.)
And so, Shouto found his own ways to repay the other.
He offered to spar with him more often, and used his fire as prompted; proper repayment for the Sports Festival as well. (He hadn't realized how aggravated Bakugou was about it until Midoriya informed him. He's still a little sorry.) He left him alone when asked, and started looking closer into what aggravated the other, prompting his classmates to stop doing whatever it was or even distracting said classmates. (It turned out Bakugou simply...didn't like people, or trivial attention. It was...a little plain to see.
He could almost see why Midoriya thought the boy was so ok now.)
In general, Shouto didn't know how to be...a friend.
But for Bakugou, it seemed as simple as obeying orders, in a way; listening to him when he spoke, testing boundaries very, very carefully in order to get closer, and doing activities he seemed to enjoy.
He may or may not have gotten help from the Bakusquad, but he thought it was fair game, considering he was simply trying to grow closer to the boy.
Eventually, Bakugou even dragged out his own brand of spite, a kind he loved fighting with; they had their own little banter, with almost no limits on going 'too far'.
Shouto thought it was rather freeing.
But in general, they just. Slowly grew closer. Of course, Shouto did most of the pushing, but he thought his kindness in response to the simple kind Bakugou had shown him was plenty enough. The friendship just came along with it.
It hit him one day, though, when he was eating one of the newer recipes Bakugou had obtained with him, sat next to each other at the dining room table. (They had a habit of stealing each other's food in little bits even though they had their own version of it. It was a little war Shouto had waged on a day he felt particularly sassy, and a day Bakugou was particularly calm. It reminded Shouto of the way Natsuo used to steal Fuyumi's food, though she rarely waged any war back.)
He set his chopsticks down and hummed, catching Bakugou's attention. The other raised an eyebrow and asked, "Somethin' up Icyhot?"
Shouto paused. "...why did you start this?" He asked. "I'd understand if you'd started it when we were closer, but...you didn't." He turned to Bakugou, simple curiosity in his own eyes and contemplation in the others'. "So why?"
He hadn't realized that it was odd til then, since this really was a great kindness, to Shouto at least. And there seemed to be little reason for Bakugou to start this of his own volition.
So why?
--------
After that first night, Katsuki just. Kept making the recipes, the same way Fuyumi had all the measurements laid out, and doing his best to follow her simple orders on method.
At first, he wasn't quite sure why he was so intent on doing this. Why he kept asking for more recipes, kept making them exactly as they were originally.
It wasn't long before it hit him that this was something to him, too.
His mother hadn't made him a meal since he was...maybe four. When he was young, his parents were around pretty often. His father sang him to sleep and read him bedtime stories, his mother made meals and bandaged up his little scrapes, ruffled his hair with fondness and a warm, warm smile.
This kind of cooking held a similar warmth.
In truth, he was just trying to preserve what little scraps of that childhood warmth he had left.
Because at some point, everything changed.
They were always busy with work, always doing something more important. He saw himself to bed, made his own food, learned first aid. He quickly became his own caretaker, since they were too busy to be one themselves.
But even if this was for him, in part, he knew he was doing it for Todoroki, too.
Because he knew what it was like to miss that warmth. Because he saw the emotions that passed over his face every time he served something new. Older, something Fuyumi herself had mentioned she hadn't been able to make in a while.
And eventually, the bastard managed to get close to him, too. Said something about repaying him; Katsuki didn't want shit in response for just...keeping the kid and himself a little happier, but he insisted.
Katsuki won't lie, he knew what he was doing.
He consistently offered sparring sessions using his fire. It was a much bigger challenge compared to the bastard's ice, considering his quirk was basically just bigger fire with more impact. It always left a feral, excited smirk on his face.
He started to ward off the other dumbasses from their class, too. It seemed to be his sole mission at points, tripping over his awkwardness but still attempting to distract the dumbass that was making Katsuki want to blow their face off that time round, or even just convincing them to leave him alone.
It was nice to have a little bit more room to breath, with how loud that damn class got sometimes.
And eventually, Half n Half even started bantering with him, once he had found his sass. It had surprised Katsuki a little, at first, but he took it in stride. It was kinda fun to just make insults back and forth. It helped fire them up when they were training too; kid made a pretty good rival.
And in the end, the relationship they ended up sharing was...more than plenty repayment, even if Katsuki didn't want any in the first place. The kid was surprisingly fun to hang out with, in the right moments, and he could even say he didn't mind him.
Shitty hair was definitely right. He was going as soft as overcooked noodles at this fucking rate.
But he should've known the bastard would eventually catch on to how weird it was that he just suddenly decided to start making him his sister's recipes.
Katsuki sat down next to Half n Half, waiting for him to turn before he plucked a rice grain from his pile. It was a little game they had started a while back; Katsuki found it kinda fun, if only because it never really got competitive. They just liked to steal the other's food, and getting fake mad about it and stealing from the other was fun as hell.
Todoroki suddenly put down his chopsticks, humming. Katsuki paused, swallowing his stolen grain before just staring at the boy.
He finally asked him what was wrong, and Todoroki answered with a question he'd honestly been expecting for awhile.
He sighed, setting his own chopsticks down and thinking it over. He could keep it to himself-the dumbass wouldn't bother him about it anyways, he's good at dropping things like that-but...they were...pretty close. And he was the one who had started this whole thing up.
So he stretched back in his chair, raising his arms before letting them fall by his side as he leaned his head over the back of it.
And he explained.
"...well, I guess this shit is as much for you as it is for me." His voice was quiet, strangely so, but he let it go for the moment. "My mom...hasn't cooked a meal for me since I was a kid. Your sister's proportions are...a bit off. It's...kinda warm, I guess." He saw Todoroki nod in his peripheral. "...the kinda warm I haven't felt in a while." He felt awkward as hell actually saying this shit, but he leaned forward anyways, daring to meet Todoroki's gaze for a moment.
It was simply curious, and a little understanding.
Damn bastard and his good intentions.
Katsuki sighed, turning away again, his face perched on his hands above his food. "Guess I kinda...missed that shit. Thought it couldn't hurt to...experience it as close as I could." Then he sighed again. "And...I don't know shit about homesickness-I don't have anything to be missin', if ya ask me-but...I get missing an old meal, I guess." He shrugged again. "Kinda felt shitty just leavin' ya without that feeling. And with that yearning." He turned to Todoroki again and the other was just as blank faced as ever.
-------
Shouto took a moment to process the words.
Bakugou had been left without much parenting, too. Except...Shouto had Fuyumi to turn to, at the least.
It seems Bakugou was left with...even less.
He hadn't had a meal made by someone else in ages. Specifically...a motherly figure.
He…couldn't even imagine being without Fuyumi's cooking for that long. His heart would ache and ache and-
He blinked. Oh.
...Bakugou was sparing him from that.
And...he understood what Bakugou meant by....a warmth.
Something kind, trying its best. Not perfect, but uniquely the creator's.
And he simply didn't want Shouto to be left with the same feelings he had. Didn't want him to be left yearning and unhappy.
Simply wanted to feel a bit of that warmth himself.
His sister really was amazing in the end, wasn't she?
He'd have to thank her later. For the meals, and the friendship she'd inevitably caused.
Shouto smiled warmly, letting a soft little laugh tumble from his mouth. He watched Bakugou's face twist in confusion for a second before he set his hands just above Bakugou's, letting his quirk heat up one and cool down the other. It was like their version of handholding, and hugs, since neither of them were very affectionate.
He felt the responding heat from Bakugou's palms rise to just barely meet his-just warm enough to be hot on his ice side and a little warm on his fire.
Like someone accepting a hug, or grasping a hand in response.
"Thank you for trying to keep me from falling into the sadness you've been subject to, Bakugou." He said quietly, and the other boy snorted back, looking away and actually grasping his hands.
"Course, dumbass Half n Half." His smile dropped a little bit, became a little bittersweet. "I just...didn't want anyone else to end up alone like that."
"Well...if nothing else, you succeeded." He chuckled back, reveling in their quirks meeting at their palms. Of course, they'd lowered the heat on both ends on his fire side; his palms still have nitroglycerin on them, after all. But there were just a few little pops making their way through, and it tickled. The other side was an odd contrast, but he didn't mind it.
He paused. "...why...haven't you gotten a meal from your mother in so long?" He asked carefully.
Bakugou didn't recoil, though, and simply sighed. "...things changed." He paused and then blinked at their food, snorting. "At this rate, our food'll go cold."
Shouto blinked, and shrugged. "I can heat it up later."
"If ya say so, Thermostat." Bakugou answered back, turning anyways.
They just stayed there the rest of the night, hands clasped, talking about...how all this came to be, the deeper reasons behind all of this.
Maybe there were some tears, but no one had to know.
Their food definitely went cold, but neither of them really minded.
Time would flow around them, but they were here. And that's what mattered.