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“Hey, how come you never make anything spicy?”
Katsuki’s mouth opens, an automatic fuck off sitting heavy on his tongue. He holds it back through sheer force of will, head cocking to the side as he glances back at the trio sitting at the kitchen bar. They know better than to enter the kitchen proper while he’s cooking, but they like to hover nonetheless.
“Yeah, Mina’s right,” Kirishima says, nodding at her. “You love spicy food don’t you, bro? So how come you never make any?”
Katsuki’s not really sure how it happened, or why for that matter. But sometime during their second year, Sunday nights in the dorms became his nights.
In the morning Katsuki goes to the market to pick up fresh ingredients. Prep work is done in the afternoon, and he starts cooking in the early evening. It’s a long, tedious process because feeding twenty highschoolers is not an easy task. Everyone’s metabolisms are through the roof, and they also have individual food preferences. The whole thing is a waste of time if you ask him.
Still, here he is, adjusting the temperature on his wok to make it’s just right.
“Not that your food isn’t tasty!” Kirishima is continuing, holding his hands up with a sheepish grin. “It’s always super good.”
“Just not spicy,” Kaminari picks up. He’s laying partially over the bar, face pressed to the marble counter and his voice comes out slightly muffled. One of Kirishima’s arms is resting across his back, and Mina is on Kaminari’s other side, her face in her palms as she tracks Katsuki’s movements curiously.
No matter how many times he yells at them they won’t leave him the hell alone. At least they’re not trying to help anymore. He’d been this close to stabbing one of them when they’d insisted on making eggrolls with him. Somehow, some way, they’d managed to set the stove on fire. It doesn’t even have gas burners. Katsuki’s not sure how they can all be so close to adulthood and yet know so little about cooking, but it’s certainly not his job to fix that.
“So you guys are saying you want something spicy?” he asks as casually as possible, not taking his eyes off his wok. A moment later it hits the temperature he wants. Katsuki adds the oil, then all the veggies he’d julienned earlier in the day.
“Yes, please!” Mina chirps over the hissing and spitting of food hitting hot metal.
“Yeah, I’ve totally been craving something spicy,” Kaminari adds.
Oh, this is going to be fun. Katsuki has been eating spicy shit since he grew his first tooth. He’s the king of spicy at this point. What he considers spicy is going to make these losers cry and he’s going to laugh his ass off the entire time.
“Whatever,” he snaps, because they’re stupid but they’d catch on if he agreed too willingly. Several cheers go up behind him and the conversation moves on to something different. Katsuki doesn’t pay attention, too busy trying to make sure his glass noodles come out with the right consistency.
If anyone notices exactly how much red chili powder he adds to the stir-fry, or that he breaks into his own personal supply of ghost peppers, they don’t say anything about it.
The dining area isn’t quite big enough for the entire class, so usually there’s some spill over into the living space as well. By the time Katsuki is dishing out servings into mismatched bowls, most of those seats are filled. A few brave souls venture into the kitchen to fetch drinks for everyone, but so long as they don’t get in his way he ignores them.
When planning family meals, as everyone has taken to calling them, he tries to stay away from anything that involves having to cook individual portions for each student; burgers, steaks, sandwiches. He’d learned real fast that that shit takes too long, and it’s annoying as fuck. So he sticks to food that can be made in bulk and then dished out easily; stir-fry, pasta, chili, soup. Tonight’s meal is pretty simple. Red bell pepper, onion, snap peas, carrots, and yellow squash all briefly seared to bring out their flavors, tossed in rice vinegar and orange juice, then sauteed. He’d marinated some chicken that morning, then pan seared, diced, and glazed it. The chicken, glass noodles, and a thai chili sauce had been the last additions to the wok. Of course in the middle of it all he’d thrown in as many ghost peppers as he could stand, and so much ground red pepper he had to open a window or risk choking on the fumes. The end result is pretty fucking fantastic if he does say so himself.
It takes forever to get dishes out to everyone and then for them to settle. Nobody sits in the same place twice for some damn reason so there’s always a lot of milling about as people figure out where they want to be. All except for Katsuki, because there’s an unspoken rule that the head of the table is his spot. Tonight he ends up with Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari to his right. Deku, Ochako, and Iida sit to his left.
“I’m so excited for this, bro! I’ve been dying for a little spice,” Kirishima says, then promptly shoves as many noodles as he can fit into his mouth. Gross.
Izuku, directly across from Kirishima, pauses with his chopsticks in the air. “It’s spicy?” he asks, sounding nervous.
Kirishima mumbles something around his mouthful which, ugh, even more gross, but Kaminari laughs and answers for him. “Yeah, we made a special request.”
Looking down at his bowl in horror, Deku murmurs a small, “Oh no.”
Katsuki can’t help his smirk, even as he digs into his own meal. It’s just the right level of hotness for him, almost enough to make his eyes water but not quite.
Ochako asks Izuku what’s wrong and the runt shakes his head. “Kacchan’s idea of spicy is…” he trails off, eyes glazing over a little before he shudders. “Let’s just say I saw him take a shot of tabasco once and not blink an eye.”
Ochako frowns, setting her chopsticks down, but the rest of the table has already taken their first few bites. It starts as someone coughing in the living room, and Kirishima’s face slowly turning a brighter shade of red than his hair. Beside him Kaminari blinks furiously, tears visibly forming in the corners of his eyes. He sniffs loudly, nose starting to run too. “Uh, bro?”
Katsuki swallows his own mouthful before smiling pleasantly but menacingly. “Yes?”
Iida fans at his face, and Sero comically drops his jaw open and sticks his tongue out like that will help cool it down. “Man, what did you even put in this?” he wheezes. There’s a general ruckus rising from the living room too, and the question is echoed by a few more people.
“Just some ghost peppers and a little ground red pepper. You guys said you wanted spicy.”
“I didn’t!” Sero whines pitifully. “Why am I being punished too!?”
“Just be glad I didn’t have any Carolina peppers,” Katsuki informs him, faux-sweet.
Izuku, looking concerned, tells the table at large, “You guys might want to grab some milk. That helps kill some of the spiciness. It’s the only way I survived dinner at his house when we were kids.”
“Shut up,” Katsuki snaps at him, but it is pretty amusing to watch his classmates scramble out of their seats and rush to the kitchen. Sucks for them though, because there’s only one gallon of milk left and it’s not enough to go around. Mineta, in tears, climbs up on the counter and sticks his entire face under the sink faucet only to be shoved aside as everyone tries to fill their glasses at once.
Katsuki leans back in his chair and crosses his arm, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. Who knew these idiots could be so damn entertaining. “Don’t forget my rule!” he calls to them. “Nobody leaves until their plate’s empty! I didn’t fucking slave over all this food just for you assholes to throw it out.”
“What!?” Mina shrieks. Momo, despite how red her face is, turns a death glare on him. He shrugs nonchalantly and goes back to his food.
“That’s mean, Kacchan,” Deku says quietly, but Katsuki is distracted from snapping at him by Kaminari returning to the table with water and loudly and enthusiastically slapping Kirishima on the back.
“Bro, just use your quirk! Harden your tongue so you don’t have to taste it!”
“That’s not how my quirk works,” Kirishima sobs, even as he grabs desperately at a glass and spills half of it down the front of his shirt. Slob. “And even if it was, it’d be cheating and cheating isn’t manly!”
“At this point I think it would classify as survival, not cheating,” Iida comments weakly, swiping a water of his own. Beside him Ochako still hasn’t touched her food and she looks like she can’t decide between being angry or afraid. Izuku’s gaze keeps snapping between his bowl and Katsuki’s face, but he’s taken a few tentative bites. Maybe growing up together has made him a little more used to his tastes than everyone else, but he’s still not on Katsuki’s level.
“It’s not so bad,” Izuku finally says.
“Dude,” Kaminari says with feeling.
“Deku, if I wasn’t slightly afraid of you before I definitely am now,” Sero admits.
Following Izuku’s lead, Ochako takes a small bite too. “It’s pretty good, actually, kind of sweet,” she exclaims with surprise.
“Give it a second,” Kirishima warns her, but her face is already slowly starting to pinken. When she starts coughing he gives her a watery grin. “Told you.”
“We must eat as much as we can. It’s irresponsible to waste food,” Iida tells them, then turns a glare on Katsuki. “Almost as irresponsible as cooking food that nobody will like.”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow at him and takes a pointedly large bite of peas and squash.
“If you eat it fast enough, the spicy aftertaste doesn’t have time to set in!” Mina shouts excitedly from the kitchen. The next second she’s tipping her bowl towards her face and using her chopsticks as a shovel. It only takes a moment before others are copying her, trying to get the food down as fast as possible.
Anger sparks in Katsuki’s gut and he slams his chopsticks down against the table. “Hey! Don’t act like my food is so bad you have to force yourselves to eat it! That’s just fucking rude.”
“You’re the one who has a rule about finishing our plates,” Ochako tells him primly. The comeback is ruined by the fact that her face is still a highly unattractive pink.
“And it’s not bad. Just a lot to handle,” Deku adds.
Maybe he didn’t think this plan through. But it’s not his fault his classmates can’t take a little heat! Katsuki rolls his eyes but heaves a huge sigh and climbs to his feet. “I’ll buy ice cream for anyone who’s too much of a bitch to handle spicy food!”
“Really!?” several people shout at once. There’s so much blubbering and crying and begging that Katsuki decides to leave immediately for the store rather than sit around and deal with it all. He’s pretty pissed that he didn’t even get to finish his own dinner, but if he had to listen to Kirishima whimper through each bite he was going to blow something up.
The closest place to get ice cream is a little convenience store a few blocks over. Katsuki clears out their entire stock. The clerk gives him a weird look but Katsuki snarls at him wordlessly. He walks back to the dorms with his arms laden down by soggy, cold plastic bags, grimacing the entire time.
The front door is barely open before he’s set upon by the entire class. Bunch of rabid animals, all of them. Deku is the only one who hangs back behind everyone else.
Katsuki drops the bags on the floor in the front entrance and lets the animals have at it. His food is cold when he gets back to it but a few minutes on the stove has it hot again. By the time he returns everyone is spread out on the couches and floor, happily eating mini-pints and ice cream bars. When Kirishima sees him he hands off his rocky road to Kaminari and stands, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.
“First of all,” he says loudly. “I’m really sorry for asking Bakugou to make spicy food.” Several loud boos echo across the room, mostly from Mina. She doesn’t notice the glare Katsuki sends her.
“I know, I know,” Kirishima continues with a sheepish grin. “I think this experience shows that we need a new rule. No family dinner requests. Ever.”
“Because Bakugou’s an asshole!” Sero shouts. When Katsuki turns his glare from Mina to him he just grins and tacks on, “But we love him and his food anyways.”
“You’re damn right you do,” Katsuki mutters. Laughter goes up around him but everyone seems to agree on the rule, and after a moment of ribbing they go back to their conversations and whatever is playing on the T.V.
Katsuki claims his seat at the dining table and happily, finally, finishes his dinner.
oOo
“You know, that wasn’t very nice.”
All that remains of family dinner are a stack of dirty dishes and the distant sounds of everyone going about their evening routines on the floors above them.
Izuku is at the sink with suds up to his elbows. Typically everyone rotates clean up duty, but Izuku likes to discreetly take over and Katsuki always hangs back a little when he does.
“No one ever said I had to be fuckin nice,” Katsuki growls. A moment later he’s looping his arms loosely around Izuku’s waist and burying his face in the crook of the other boy’s neck. “If they wanted nice they came to the wrong fucking person.”
“Kacchan!” Izuku admonishes, but he leans back into the hold regardless, baring his neck to give Katsuki more room. They rarely have time alone together like this, even more rare for it not to be behind the locked door of one of their bedrooms. But the progression of their relationship is private, not something they really want others prodding at and asking about.
“They’re your friends,” Izuku continues.
“That’s their goddamn problem,” Katsuki returns, then nips at Izuku’s shoulder through his t-shirt just because. It earns him an offended huff and a dishrag to the face that has him backing off with a splutter.
“Make yourself useful,” Izuku says primly, glancing back over his shoulder with a twinkle in his eye.
Katsuki growls at him in response, snatching the dishrag from his lax grip. “I’ll show you fucking useful.” But it’s all an act and they both know it. Izuku just grins at him and goes back to the dishes, and Katsuki joins him at the sink with only a grumble of complaint.
With everyone off to their own rooms there’s no one to see them there, together, enjoying the evening. Izuku splashes Katsuki with soapy water at one point, which leads to a brief but enthusiastic scuffle that only ends when Izuku has been pinned to the tile, laughing, and Katsuki is hovering above them. And if Katsuki’s mouth burns more than usual when he slides it along Izuku’s, well, capsaicin tends to linger.