Chapter Text
Bakugo was familiar with the scent of smoke. He’d lived surrounded by its aroma since he was five; he revelled in it. The scent implied fire, his explosions, his amazing quirk. But his smoke smelled sweet. The smoke enveloping him from behind smelled of burnt plastic.
“Fuck!”
The high pitched voice carried blindly from the pale grey fumes.
“Shit… mother-“
“Hey!” Bakugo’s growl silenced the disembodied voice. He heard a loud clang of metal hitting cement. Then another crash when a glass jar fell from a shelf, a slew of bolts scattering across the floor. A few making their way to the workstation he’d finagled, clicking against the metal heel of his boot.
“Oh… oops!”
Bakugo sighed, turning around to see a blob of pink hair scurrying around the floor of the workshop.
“No… no. Not right. Too much magnesium. Maybe I need to… but would that solve… maybe? Yes!”
“Hey! Keep it down,” Bakugo warned, just as the pink hair noticed him. It scurried over to him, leaning over his space causing a deep growl in an attempt to ward off the intrusion of his personal space.
“Whatcha working on? Need suggestions?”
“About what? How to blow up my gauntlets? No, thanks. I’ve grown rather fond of my arms.” Bakugo smirked at his own comment. The jab didn’t faze the hectic ball of energy sticking her nose into his work.
“Well, I can think of a way to enhance the capacity for containing fuel inside your gauntlets. That way you could shrink down size and weight without loosing fire power…. Or keep the design, but gain a stronger blast.” She started to walk away, knowing full well Bakugo’s interest had peaked.
“Hey, gear head. Get back here!” Bakugo spun on the stool, facing the girl in front of him for the first time since setting up his tools. Her overalls were filthy; covered in grease and burns, her hair was matted and thrown into two buns on top of her head, and her skin looked like it would feel oily. He wanted to dunk her in a pool of soapy water. But moreover than that, he wanted her advice on how to improve his gauntlets.
She stood in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back, rolling back and forth from her toes to her heels. A sly smile spread in her lips as her gaze narrowed on him.
“You want my advice, Bakugo?” She glimmered at his frowning response of silence. “What’s my name?” The tip of her tongue poked out from between her teeth.
Bakugo spun back around on his stool, hunching his shoulders over the mess of rags and pliers. He grumbled to himself how stupid people could be as she giggled, jumping away towards the opposite end of the shop. He’d seen her around for the past three years, but had never once heard anyone call her by her name.
What a ridiculous stipulation, he thought to himself. If you’re going to brag about having ideas, you better back it up with proof. She probably has no idea how to improve my gauntlets. They’re perfect as is.
Bakugo fumed to himself, curious if she was just pushing his buttons, or if she really did know a better design. He flinched slightly, taken aback when another explosion, louder this time, reinvigorated the plume of smoke behind him.
“Fuck! Again?!” The pitchy voice squeezed from the abyss. Bakugo hunkered himself deeper into his work, trying his best to block out the catastrophe behind him.
“Oi! Blasty!” He rolled his eyes hearing Denki’s voice call out to him from the doorway. He hated the nickname the boys had dubbed him, but it was preferred to Kacchan, so he let it slide most days.
“What? I’m working,” Bakugo barked back.
“Dorm dinner in 20 minutes. Or are you missing out on this one, too?”
“Damn it!…. fucking useless… how… AH!”
At the string of curses floating through the air, Bakugo realized making dinner for his classmates was a superior option to listening to this for another moment. He tossed the small wrench in his hand onto the table, pushing the stool out from under him. He passed Denki in the doorway, slapping his hand in the blonde’s shoulder.
He heard Denki’s voice carry into the noisy shop behind him: “Hatsume? Are you okay?” Bakugo didn’t hear the girl’s response as he repeated the name in his head, attempting to memorize it for his return. He would show her she didn’t have the upper hand.
Hatsume. Hatsume.
“What’ll it be tonight? Noodles? I’m definitely craving some spicy noodles, man,” Denki’s voice flitted into his ears.
Hotsuma.
“Or maybe the ribs you made last week? Those were so tasty!”
No. Hatsoma.
“Or, honestly, I know it’s a bit strange, but I could really go for-“
“Denki!” Bakugo gripped Denki’s t-shirt in his fist, halting the boy in mid thought. “I’m trying to think. Can you shut the fuck up?”
“Think about what?” Bakugo’s grip loosened as the continued to walk back to the dorms. Pushing the exterior doors open so they could cross the knoll from Building A back to their home, a burst of cool air tickled Bakugo’s bare skin.
“It’s not important,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to shield himself from the cold. He looked over at Denki, who was bundled in his UA track sweater, the zipper pulled all the way up now, hiding his chin and the bottom half of his cheekbones. Only his eyes squinting nearly closed signified to Bakugo that he was smiling under the fabric.
“How’s the project coming along?” Denki tried to continue their small talk even though Bakugo would have been satisfied making the small trek in silence. He sighed before responding.
“They’re tricky. I need to adjust the output, but Endeavour’s never been the one to spell it out for me. I’m supposed to go back after winter break and show an improvement, but I’m stuck.”
“Why not ask Mei?”
“Who?” Bakugo’s eyebrow raised.
“Hatsume? The support girl you were talking to?” Denki laughed in response.
“Yeah, she offered.”
“So take her up on it, man! She’s been helping me tweak my shit for years. Since first year.”
“Yeah, I would, but…” Bakugo shook his head. “I didn’t know her name. She kind of… called me out on it.”
“Oh, Bakugo. For shame, my friend.”
“Whatever. Now I do. So I’ll go back and talk to her after dinner,” Bakugo shrugged off the embarrassment as he pulled open the dorm’s large wooden door, Denki closely following behind him.
The energy of the common room poured over the duo as they entered the warmth. A few classmates scurried passed them heading towards the baths. Clattering emanated from the kitchen, driving Bakugo’s attention towards the noise. Tsuyu and Uraraka meandered from the dorm rooms towards the cluster of couches, holding a large knitted blanket and deeply caught up in their conversation. Denki watched as Tsuyu placed the blanket over Kirishima, who was passed out on the couch. She softly patted his hair before the two girls took a seat on the floor so as not to disturb Kirishima’s slumber. Denki smiled to himself as he turned to follow Bakugo’s path towards the commotion in the kitchen.
“Losers, if you’re going to fuck it up, just give up and get out!” Bakugo’s voice boomed through the small kitchenette. Deku froze, mid stir with a metal wisk in hand. Todoroki, noticing Bakugo’s entry, perked up immediately.
“Hey, Bakugo,” his docile tone juxtaposed Bakugo’s barking entrance. “Check out the chives.” Todoroki motioned beside him to a cutting board with small pieces of extremely symmetrical chopped chives.
“Decent,” Bakugo praised. “Except how long did it take you to do that?”
“Not long,” Todoroki mumbled.
“About 20 minutes,” Midoriya chimed in. Bakugo sighed, throwing his hands up in front of the pair, signalling he would take over and that, for their safety and his sanity, they should vacate.
Denki hopped up onto the counter behind Bakugo’s new workstation, watching as he pushed aside the work left by Midoriya and Todoroki. Denki rolled up his sleeves, unzipping his sweater just to his collarbone, the heat from the kitchen melting him back to a regulated temperature from their brisk walk. He smiled at Bakugo, content watching him quickly grabbing vegetables to chop almost instantaneously, while adjusting pans on the stovetop to his liking.
“Hey, make yourself useful. Wash the rice for me.” Bakugo’s comment was thrown over his shoulder, almost as a second thought, but Denki’s smile widened whenever Bakugo gave him a task to help. It was a small gesture, but being instructed by Bakugo in the kitchen made Denki feel trusted. He lept down, pulling the pot of the rice cooker out of the machine, dunking a large portion of rice, enough to feed whoever wandered by for food. After rinsing and pouring out the water, he went to fill the pot again.
“Rinse it-“
“Rinse it twice,” Denki said simultaneously. “I know, man.”
After he placed the pot back in the cooker, Denki clicked the button, hearing the playful chimes signifying the start. He leaned his elbows on the counter, titling his head to look beside him at Bakugo standing in front of a large wok, now sautéing vegetables in oil.
“So… no plans for winter break then?” Denki attempted broaching the subject he had been too scared to ask earlier.
“What do you mean?” Bakugo said, not bothering to look in Denki’s direction.
“I mean… no internship? No extra courses?” Denki paused.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“No internship, Kacchan,” Midoriya’s voice pipped up from the table he and Todoroki had displaced themselves to, waiting patiently for Bakugo to finish cooking. “Remember, the Todorokis are going on their own trip, so Endeavour instructed us to work on-“
“Yeah, Deku!” Bakugo cut off Midoriya. “I remember,” he said through gritted teeth, annoyed with Midoriya’s explanation.
“Well, that’s perfect then!” Denki interjected before a more substantial argument could ensue between the two. “You should come with us guys. We’re doing a trip to a cabin. Just a couple days. Not even the full week.”
Bakugo made no attempt to hide a heavy sigh of resignation. Had Midoriya been able to stay quiet, Bakugo could have played off the potential need to stay in Musutafu. But instead he needed to come up with a new, reasonable excuse to avoid Kaminari and Sero for more than a few hours at a time. Even a car ride with them, regardless of length, was enough to push his buttons.
“Listen, man. Think of this as a favour. Can you just agree to go, please?” The tone in Denki’s voice perked Bakugo’s ears. He turned from the food to see Denki looking up towards him, eyes pleading.
“What’s up?” Bakugo said. Denki was rarely ever this sincere, so Bakugo tried his best to show his genuine concern.
“It’s Kirishima. He… needs a break. He needs a couple days to get away from… everything. And Sero and I already asked him and he said Fat can’t give him the week off. Which - I mean, it’s bullshit. FatGum wouldn’t have said no if Kirishima had actually asked. So I’m… worried.” Denki’s tone was solemn. He straightened up, bringing back with him his usual positivity, slapping Bakugo’s shoulder. “I think if I told Kirishima you were going, he’d definitely come. Even just to mediate and make sure you don’t accidentally kill one of us.”
“Purposefully would probably be more accurate.” Bakugo paused, thinking over Denki’s explanation. He hadn’t thought there was anything plaguing Kirishima. At least enough to warrant concern. He turned back to the wok, shifting the food absentmindedly. He’d noticed Kirishima a bit less vocal in class, but Bakugo figured that was just due to the subject matter, not exhaustion. Bakugo starred intently at the sizzling food as he slowly realized how much Kirishima was missing from the dorm events, or how he sometimes would be in bed before him, or had not even come home at all some nights. Even tonight, he’d walked passed Kirishima asleep on the couch, and no one seemed to bat an eye of concern, as if that had become routine for him.
“Yeah, I’ll go.” The chime of the rice cooker sung out at Bakugo finally gave his answer, drawing Denki’s attention immediately so he didn’t pay heed to Bakugo’s response. After Denki popped the lid, silencing the small appliance, did he look to Bakugo, who growled out of frustration needing to repeat himself for this idiot.
“Yeah, Denki. Tell Kirishima I’ll go, so he better damn figure a way out to come too.” At Denki’s smiling response, Bakugo turned back to finish prepping dinner.
——————
Bakugo scooped out a spoonful of rice into a deep, ceramic bowl. He tossed an assortment of cooked veggies, a piece of salmon, and finally sprinkling on a few very symmetrical chives and a dash of sesame seeds. He left the rest of the serving dishes placed on the newly cleaned counters, ready for the vultures of his class to swoop down and devour his hard work. He walked passed Midoriya and Todoroki giving their thanks as he made his way to the couches in the common room. With a bowl in one hand, he used his other hand holding chopsticks to motion to the two girls on the floor.
“Dinner’s ready. Help yourselves.” Uraraka and Tsuyu scrambled up to race towards the kitchen. Bakugo took a seat on the coffee table beside the long couch. Tsuyu’s knitted blanket stretched over Kirishima’s shoulders, barely reaching his thighs. His chin, pressed close to his chest, was tucked under the wool, hands shoved under the cushion propping up his head. At this angle, Bakugo could see the scar above his right eye. His red hair was still spiked, informing Bakugo that Kirishima had passed out immediately after returning from his work study; no time for a bath.
Bakugo leaned over just enough that he could hold the bowl of food under Kirishima’s nose. He lay the chopsticks on the table beside him, reaching out his now free hand to let his fingertips graze the edge of Kirishima’s hair line. His index finger brushed gently down Kirishima’s forehead, smoothly caressing the bridge of his nose before he applied a greater pressure to the tip. Bakugo wiggled his finger, wiggling the tip of Kirishima’s nose; a move he’d found annoyed Kirishima out of any slumber. Kirishima’s forehead crinkled in retaliation to his rude awakening, but his face immediately relaxed when glancing down to see the bowl of food presented to him.
“Oh, yeah! That smells amazing!” Kirishima’s wide smile lit up his face. He sat up, letting the blanket fall into his lap, and grabbed the bowl from Bakugo’s offering hand. Bakugo passed him the chopsticks beside him and Kirishima immediately started scooping clumps of food into his mouth, moaning in delightful hunger. Kirishima looked up as Bakugo stood.
“What’s up?” Kirishima said through a mouthful of rice.
“Heading back to the workshop. I left my shit there. I at least need to clean up.” Bakugo shoved his hands in his pockets, turning to head towards the door.
“Did you eat?” Kirishima’s voice caught up to his back. Bakugo paused, knowing full well he would lie.
“Yeah, Shitty Hair. No need to worry about me,” Bakugo mumbled over his shoulder as he grabbed his scarf, hanging from the coat rack beside the exit, closing the heavy door loudly behind him. The echo of the wood reverberated behind him. The night air had become more crisp, hurting his lungs as he breathed in. He still just wore a t-shirt, so he wrapped the scarf two times around his neck, bundled it up close to his cheekbones. Breathing in the air through the soft cotton minimized the sharpness of the cold as he made his way back to the workshop.
The door to the workshop was open, smoke pluming out into the hallway. Bakugo stepped in quickly, blindly heading toward his table, still strewn with his disassembled gauntlets. He took a seat on the stool, reaching forward to click on a bright halogen light. Clear white light shone over the metal table, no shadows to be seen. Only a thin mist of smoke lay dormant in his corner of the shop.
“I got it this time!” Bakugo could hear Hatsume’s voice disembodied in the smoke.
“You said that last time,” a deeper, male voice shot back at her. “And you blew up my shop! Again!”
Bakugo lowered his head, focussing on the bolts in front of him. A smirk involuntarily pushed up the corner of his mouth. He didn’t intentionally find her scolding funny, but enjoyed it nonetheless. He did admire the support student for her brash sense of drive, even if he only remembered her because of her pink hair. He knew she worked hard, and produced some pretty amazing tech, if Midoriya and Denki’s suits reflected her work. He turned on his stool, ready to grab her away from the berating behind him, to get his sought after advice, but saw her being lightly pushed out of the classroom by her teacher.
“Yes, Sensei,” he heard her mumble as she walked towards the door, head down.
“Come back after you’ve bathed, eaten, and slept. And I’ll be checking in with your dorm mates!” Bakugo turned back around quickly, not wanting to draw attention to himself as part of this conversation. As the tuft of pink hair escaped his view, his favourite redhead sauntered into the shop, nodding in his direction as he spotted Bakugo.
Kirishima’s hair was now pulled back from his typical spikes into a messy, stubby ponytail. He carried a small, black bento box in his hand. Rushing over to Bakugo’s table, he dropped the box.
“Hey, man. Stop fucking lying to me.” Kitishima’s tone was calm. He had a ring of laughter in his voice as he slapped Bakugo’s back.
“What do you mean?” Bakugo responded, not acknowledging the box beside him.
“You didn’t eat. You gave me your bowl,” Kirishima distractedly played with a loose bolt from the pile beside a large wrench.
“Who-“
“Tsu,” Kirishima answered before Bakugo could get his question out. Bakugo growled as he ripped the bolt out of Kirishima’s fingers.
“Whatever. I wasn’t hungry.” Bakugo lied again. He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to, but he just said the words before realizing it wasn’t the truth.
“Bullshit.” It took everything in Bakugo to hide his smile from Kirishima. He knew he wasn’t intentionally testing Kirishima, but he had passed nonetheless.
“Anyway,” Kirishima continued. “I heard you’re going to the cabin with Denki and Sero. That’s… interesting.”
Bakugo paused, waiting for Kirishima to say he would be going as well. When nothing came, Bakugo focused more of his attention towards Kirishima. The redhead was starring out the door, not looking at Bakugo.
“Um, yeah. Denki invited me tonight. I’m free for the break, so I figured… it would be… fun?” Bakugo just wanted to say the only reason he was going was to convince Kirishima to go, but he felt that may be too cruel.
“Oh, sure.” Kirishima’s response still felt distracted. Bakugo reached his hand in front of Kirishima’s face, snapping his fingers together.
“Oi! Shitty Hair! Are you going, or what?”
“I suppose I should. I mean, I can’t have you exploding the cabin in frustration. I think it’s a rental. I doubt they would get their security deposit back if you blew up the place.” Kirishima’s smile returned as he faced Bakugo again. Bakugo cocked one eyebrow at his change in demeanour. He was starting to see what Denki had described tonight.
“Okay. Good.” Bakugo mumbled as Kirishima pushed himself away from the desk. He turned in a full circle as he headed towards to door, waving his hand above his head.
“See ya, bro!” With that goodbye, the shop suddenly fell into silence. Bakugo placed the bolt back onto he table, the metal clink echoing. He reached out to pull the bento box closer to him, lifting the lid up to toss to the side.
The familiar smell of his cooking wafted to his nose, triggering a rumble in his stomach. The bottom of the box was covered in a smooth, thick layer of rice, dusted with black sesame seeds. The vegetables were pressed into the rice, making up an animal’s face; Bakugo interpreted as a bear. Maybe a cat. A chunk of salmon tucked against the opposite side of the box, clearly not a full piece. Bakugo imagined Kirishima convincing Mina to split a piece of salmon to share; her reluctantly agreeing when he flashed his smile at her, pleadingly titling his head. Bakugo pulled out the chopsticks from their compartment under the box and dug out a clump of rice with the ear of the bear/cat. Shoving the warm food in his mouth, his shoulders relaxed and his back slumped. He felt relief wash over him and the taste of the food coated his tongue. He pushed his chopsticks into the rice again, lifting it to his lips. Only at that moment did he realize he was still smiling.