Work Text:
Bakugo Katsuki and the Case of the Hungry Todoroki Part Deux
Katsuki’s backpack landed on the floor with a loud thud as he sat down at the desk in his room. It was Friday, and he was fucking tired after the long week their class had. He was convinced the teachers decided that all the training exercises they’d done weren’t enough work and screwed them over with a dumpster full of homework. No matter what anyone said, it had nothing, nothing, to do with the fact he’d accidentally blown up a food truck Aizawa-sensei was standing next to, drenching him in a sketchy looking fish sauce. If Shitty Hair had just stayed still so Katsuki could end his existence, nothing would’ve happened.
AND, by the way, what kind of shitty food truck that only sold pancakes kept barrels full of fish sauce inside!? Did they cater to people like Frog Face or what? Aizawa should blame that sweaty, fatass cook for that crap, not Katsuki. If the cook wasn’t a freak, Aizawa would’ve been covered in something better, like flour or pancake batter, just like that dream he had of Shouto and all those strawberries...
He jolted upright in his chair and pinched himself, hard. No. Katsuki promised himself he’d never go back to that deep, dark, chocolate syrup filled corner of his mind he swore didn’t exist. Fuck Dunce Face and his stupid porn collection for putting that in his head. He was ruined, turned into a pervert just like Sh—
“Argh!” he groaned, rubbing his face.
Homework, math, calculus, his brain helpfully supplied as he frantically dug through his bag for his textbook and notes.
Number 1. Find the derivative of 6x^2+6/4x-8
Katsuki breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, he was going to fucking slay this homework.
Thirty minutes later, and a little more than halfway done, he ran out of paper in his notebook. Grumbling to himself, he reached for his backpack again to search for more and cursed loudly when he couldn’t find any. Katsuki was going to melt that walking roll of scotch tape for “borrowing” the last bit he had while they were in class. Now he was going to have to get up and leave to go scrounge--
“Hello.”
“MOTHERFUCK!” he shouted, dropping his backpack and snapping his head up. Shouto was sitting in front of him on his desk, ass parked right on top of his math homework, staring at him. Katsuki whipped his head around to look at his door, which was still closed, and then back at Shouto, sitting there innocently like he didn’t just fucking teleport into his room and scare Katsuki shitless.
“Where the fuck did you come from, Icyhot!?”
Shouto gave him a weird look. “I’m sure you already know since we just covered this in anatomy, but my mother and father—“
“Oh, my god, I meant just now, dumbass!” he interrupted. Shouto was just as likely to take that literally as he was to be faking it to piss him off. He’d gotten better at doing that the longer they’ve been dating, unfortunately.
“Oh. The hallway. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Katsuki repeated. He could feel a vein in his forehead throbbing. “Whatever. You wanna tell me why you’ve spread your fat ass all over my calculus? If you’ve smudged my handwriting, you can forget going to that spa with me at the end of the month.”
Shouto frowned at him, head tilted to the side. “My butt is quite toned, actually. You said two days ago when you grabbed—”
“If you don’t tell me right fucking now—“
“I’m hungry.”
Katsuki screwed his eyes shut and covered his face with his hands. ‘He’s hot, the sex is worth it, he understands you’, he chanted to himself as he counted to ten in his head. For the thousandth time, he asked himself why, of all the people in the world, he had to fall in love with this stupid candy cane. He groaned and dropped his hands into his lap. “And you can’t get something yourself because…?”
“...My boyfriend loves me and would do anything to make me happy?”
Unimpressed, Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
Shouto sighed and turned his head to the side, a sheepish look on his face.
“I did try, but I was...unsuccessful.”
“‘The hell does that mean?” Katsuki asked. That didn’t sound good and it probably wasn’t good. If Shouto tried cooking something...
“I watched a YouTube video—“
——
“—then you just blend it all together, and there you have it! One delicious, easy to make banana strawberry smoothie. Perfect for a light breakfast or a quick snack after—.”
Shouto paused the video of the lady and started to gather the ingredients for the recipe.
Katsuki looked like he was in one of his moods today, and this was confirmed when he went straight to his room after class, neglecting to make Shouto his customary after class snack. Shouto didn’t want to bother him, so he decided to make something by himself. He overheard Kirishima raving to Ashido about a “manly smoothie” he made earlier this week. A strawberry banana smoothie didn’t sound very manly to him, just like most things Kirishima said were manly, but it seemed like it would be easy for Shouto to make. He was a bit skeptical of this lady he found on YouTube, though. She was some sort of countess of bare feet, which didn’t sound very sanitary, or safe, or normal at all, actually. She seemed to know what she was doing, though, and it couldn’t be that hard, right?
Shouto looked down at his sock covered feet where the print of All Might grinned back at him. ‘I do need all the help I can get,’ he thought as he bent over.
——
“You’re shitting me right now, aren’t you? Please, tell me you’re not that stupid! I can’t date someone who’s that stupid!” Katsuki exclaimed as he cut Shouto off. “That’s just the name of her show!”
“Who?”
“Ina Garten! The lady you were watching. Her show is called The Barefoot Contessa. She’s a fucking legend.”
“Oh. That makes more sense, because taking those off didn’t really help.”
“Fucking hopeless,” Katsuki muttered.
“As I was saying—“
——
After using his quirk to make several small ice cubes, Shouto dropped all the ingredients into the blender and poured in the milk. Looking down at the array of buttons, he frowned in confusion. This was supposed to be a blender; however, none of the buttons actually said “blend”. Chop, crush, purée, 1, 2, 3...pulse? Shouto blinked, even more confused now. Why would you need to measure your pulse on a blender? Maybe it was more convenient? He remembers Izuku mumbling that old people baked a lot and weren’t good with technology...that had to be it. He’d ask Katsuki about it later, just to make sure.
Now that he thought about it, the last time he saw Recovery Girl, she said his heart rate was “higher than it should be”. He was too embarrassed to tell her he’d just come from the equipment room where he and Katsuki went after training to, in Katsuki’s words, blow off steam. He didn’t know what that meant, but, to Shouto’s delight, there’d been a lot of blowing and, thanks to his quirk, a lot of steam.
He shook his head. With his track record in the kitchen, it wouldn’t be good if he got distracted while trying to cook, especially by thoughts of Katsuki in compromising positions. Curious to know what his heart rate was anyway, he pressed down on the pulse button.
——
“...And? Don’t leave me hanging, Icyhot.”
“Remember when I told you Fuyumi said I’m cursed?” Shouto asked.
Katsuki closed his eyes and snorted, remembering the dejected look on Shouto’s face from their first date.
“Oh, I’ve got to hear this,” he said, smirking.
“Well, everything sort of exploded.”
“Pfft, what?” Katsuki snickered. “How the fuck does a smoothie explode?”
“The smoothie didn’t; the blender did,” Shouto corrected. “I pushed the button to read my pulse—“
“It doesn’t do that.”
“—and nothing happened for a few seconds. Then, there were strawberries, milk, and bits of burnt plastic everywhere and a small fire where the blender used to be.” He pulled at a few strands of his white hair. “This got very wet and very pink along with the rest of the kitchen.”
Katsuki dropped his forehead down on Shouto’s knee and proceeded to laugh his ass off. He didn’t need to look up to see the pout he knew was on Shouto’s face.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Shouto complained. “I was very upset.”
“You can’t be fucking real,” Katsuki choked out as he sat up and wiped at his eyes. Again, how the hell did he get stuck with this crazy candy cane?
“H—ow!” he rubbed his forehead where Shouto flicked him and glared daggers up at his boyfriend. “‘The hell was that for!?”
A smirk crossed Shouto’s face. “What was what for? I’m not real.”
“Fuck you, half ‘n half,” he grumbled sourly. He crossed his arms and turned his head to the side. “See if I ever make you soba again if this is the way I’m treated.”
A loud roar from Shouto’s stomach interrupted him before he could respond.
“HOLY SHIT!” Katsuki yelped as thrust his hands in front of him and used his quirk to blast himself away. His chair caught on something halfway across the room, sending it and him tumbling to the floor. He grunted at the short flare of pain from his back, but quickly scrambled up behind the chair, peeking his head over the cushion.
Shouto just sat there, blinking at him like everything was just peachy keen, like there wasn’t a goddamn monster in his stomach waiting to jump out and devour him.
“...I said I was hungry.”
———
“Don’t touch anything,” Katsuki warned as they got off the elevator and went to the kitchen. “I don’t wanna get stabbed by an exploding spoon or some other weird shit.”
Shouto frowned at him. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, Katsuki. I’ve never had a problem when I eat cereal.”
“First time for everything,” he mumbled, digging through the cupboard for a saucepan. His brows creased after he set the pan on the stove and eyed the rest of the kitchen.
“I’ve never seen this place so clean. Must’ve been a bitch to clean all that crap up, huh?”
“I assume so.”
Katsuki turned around and gave Shouto a confused look.
“What do you mean ‘I assume so??” he asked incredulously.
Shouto just blinked at him again. “I just looked at the mess for a minute and then I left. I figured since, like I told you, Kirishima was bragging so much about his smoothies, everyone would blame it on him.”
An evil grin spread over Katsuki’s face. He was so fucking proud, like a parent that’s just taught their child to walk or talk for the first time. “Guess I’m rubbing off on you,” he said smugly. He turned back around and closed his eyes, a sense of deep satisfaction running through him. “Once you really learn, we’re going to be unstoppable. Like fucking Batman and Robin.”
“...Yes, just like those people.”
He scowled and peered over his shoulder at Shouto. “You don’t know who the hell they are, do you?”
Instead of responding, Shouto pulls out his phone and starts rapidly typing on it. Katsuki sighed loudly and focused back on cooking their food. Count on Shouto to always ruin the moment and whatever progress Katsuki thought he’d made.
“I don’t think black spandex would suit me,” Shouto says a few minutes later. Katsuki scoffed and rolled his eyes so hard he was afraid they’d pop out of their sockets. As if a candy cane could be the leader of their dynamic duo.
“You’d look good in these green shorts, though,” he continued. “Very good, actually. My birthday is coming up--”
“Hell. No. Do you always think with your dick or what!?” Katsuki exclaimed, his face flushing.
“No.”
“Then stop acting like it! God, who would’ve guessed you of all people would be such a horn--oi! I said don’t touch anything!”
The sneaky bastard had somehow crossed the room without making any noise again and wrapped his arms snugly around his waist, his chest pressing against Katsuki’s back.
“Technically, you’re a person, not a thing, so this is fine.”
“Technically, you’re a dumb pokeball I’m about to blast off again if you keep distracting me!” he yelled.
“So you’re saying the great Katsuki Bakugou can be distracted by a simple hug? That sounds like a big weakness for a future number 1. How will anyone sleep at night when they find out?” Shouto teased.
“You are so dead when I’m done with this shit!” he shouted, gesturing angrily at their food with his spatula. “I’ll fucking barbecue your ass and force feed it to shitty Deku!”
“But only half of me would cook.”
God. He turned his head to the left to yell right in Shouto’s face, but could only watch in sudden horror as Shouto, now that Katsuki was even more distracted, reached towards the pan with his left hand to snag a piece of cooked beef.
Everything next seemed to happen in slow motion.
The second Shouto’s hand got close, there was a whoosh of air and the pan burst into flames. Before he could react, a plume of hot, black smoke and ash spewed over his face, making him violently cough and splutter. He heard the telltale crackle of Shouto’s ice as he wiped at the tears streaming down his face. He dreaded opening his eyes to see what this clusterfuck looked like but forced himself knowing he had to. He could tell by the acrid burnt smell it was going to be a mess.
And it was.
The pan, what he could see of it through the giant block of ice that now covered the whole stove, was nothing more than a charred hunk of metal; the food a pile of ash. All that work, ruined.
He turned around slowly and stared at Shouto, face expressionless. Shouto, face covered in soot, stared back wide-eyed. They stood like that for several minutes before Shouto opened his mouth.
“Oops?”
“Oops,” Katsuki repeated, his voice flat. He tilted his head up slightly, looking Shouto dead in the eye.
“Any last words, Icyhot?” he asked quietly.
“...You look strange without eyebrows.”
He slapped both hands against his forehead and made a sound like a dying animal when he felt nothing but smooth skin above his eyes. Sparks danced across his palms as he looked up and saw Shouto making a mad dash to the stairs.
“GET BACK HERE!!” he screamed.
He managed to take three steps before his foot landed on something soft that sent him hurtling toward the floor.
“Seems that helped after all,” Katsuki heard Shouto say before the elevator doors closed and he was left alone, sprawled on the ground, staring at All Might’s grinning face.
“Dude, that was epic.”
He turned his head to see Kaminari standing a few feet away, a can of whipped cream in one hand and a bottle of syrup in the other.
He snapped.
“Pikachu?”
“Hm?”
“Run.”