Archive of Our Own

Everyone knows Bakugou Katsuki is a great cook. When spirits are high and the perfect moment strikes, Class 1-A gets treated to breakfast and fancy snacks and dinner, masterfully crafted and presented with a smirk radiating smugness.

Not as many are aware Bakugou can bake, too — though that's dependent on a whole other mood.

As his best friend, Kirishima was the first of Bakugou's classmates-turned-bros (no matter how much the guy protests the term) to glimpse that particular habit. He'd been invited to the Bakugous' for a sleepover — finally! And it only took two months of dropping hints that that's a thing friends do! — and whatever he imagined would happen, it wasn't a gruff greeting by an apron-clad Bakugou before he returned to… making matcha muffins?

At least matcha something, judging by the pastel green color of the batter Bakugou was brutally whisking without so much as looking at Kirishima.

A timid cough drew Kirishima's attention to a man who, by the context of being in Bakugou's home reading the local paper in a very cozy-looking chair, must be his father. "Don't mind him, he's just a little nervous", he'd said, careful not to speak louder than the racket coming from the kitchen and a secret sort of mirth in the corners of his eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Eijirou. Come on in, I'm sure Katsuki wouldn't mind some help."

Kirishima blinked in surprise. Nervous? Bakugou? And what did that have to do with matcha muffin-somethings? Before he could go beyond bowing politely to Mr. Bakugou and chirping, "Thank you! Will do!", Bakugou was already slamming the oven door shut with violent finality.

"Oi. Shark Teeth! Mario Kart rematch in my room, fucking now!"

Snapping to attention, Kirishima grinned at him. "Oh, you're on." Another, shorter bow in the direction of Bakugou's dad. "Nice to meet you, sir!"

Mr. Bakugou smiled at Kirishima over the rim of his glasses. To Bakugou, who stomped right by them and up the stairs, he commented gently: "Don't forget to set the timer, son."

"Fuck off, old man!"

Turns out Kirishima was right: They were muffins, and they were delicious.

Once they moved to the dorms, it became a lot more apparent: Bakugou bakes things when he's stressed or otherwise tense.

And because he's stressed, no one in class is allowed to have any of it except, strangely, Satou. Some sort of payback for lending his ingredients and supplies, perhaps? Whatever the case, the flash of surprise, then delight, then impressed approval on Satou's face when he tried Bakugou's macarons for the first time has 1-A feeling like they're seriously missing out.

They most certainly are. Kirishima didn't want to call attention to it or put salt in the wound or whatever, but he got one, no, two macarons for doing well on the test that next morning.

(Yes, Bakugou stress-baked over a test he later aced without problems. Kirishima's best bro is nerdy like that.)

That time they had their Bakusquad movie night in the hallowed halls of Bakugou's dorm room got them color-coded melonpan and a sharp-tongued reminder not to fucking touch anything. Of course it went fine and they all had fun, just like Kirishima promised him they would.

Their performance at the Culture Festival produced an entire fleet of soufflés, one more flawless and untouchable than the other. Even Bakugou realized letting them stay that way after the fact would be a huge waste — the expression on Aizawa's face at being wordlessly and grumpily presented with a chocolate soufflé in the middle of the night was priceless.

Something about indulging his sweet tooth must really calm Bakugou down. Which, once snow begins to fall, brings them to—

"Alright, squad!", Kirishima calls out, hardened fists smashing into each other for extra resolve and manliness on top of the super manly flames of his red-black apron. His friends, donning their own renditions of most-ridiculous-apron-on-AliExpress, share a feral grin not unlike Bakugou's mid-battle.

"Bakubro gets his Hero license today. Lots of stress to process! Let's get to work!"

This plan of theirs has been in the works for ages.

All it had taken was one look at Bakugou and how crushed he'd been over not passing the Provisional License exam the first time around. Still explode-y, still habitually grouchy yet oddly quiet, brooding more than usual. Of course there'd been his off-the-record fight with Midoriya — and also the fact that Bakugou hadn't even eaten a single slice of the wonderfully fluffy cheesecake he'd baked ahead of what turned into a truly messy day.

That, the squad had decided then and there, was unacceptable. Hence, Mission Bakusquad Bake Off was born.

The concept? Deceptively simple: Everyone does their best to bake something that will make the tension they've all seen simmering within Bakugou disappear. The only restriction is that it has to be done by the time he comes back, so they can properly celebrate this new step in his Hero career. Easy!

And since they're all Heroes, they go at it with pure strategy and logic. Stone-cold pragmatism, that's them!

Or, well… The best of intentions and vibes, which is basically the same thing. So Sero hops on a call with his abuelas to take a crack at their famous quesillo flan recipe, tongue sticking out in full concentration as he whisks sugar in a pan until it caramelizes. Kaminari and Jirou have teamed up to recreate that cheesecake Bakugou never got to taste, fully determined to hit the same blend of New York-style and a German Käsekuchen. Going an entirely different route, Ashido swears her pumpkin spice cookies will do the trick, gleefully shaping them into skulls and explosions.

Kirishima? He once spotted Bakugou idling in front of a cookbook on all kinds of Baumkuchen, which is… pretty hard to get right… and needs a special pan to make… but none of that can stop him.

Matcha Baumkuchen it is!

Even before they started, the pile of ingredients, pots, bowls, cooking appliances and special equipment required was pretty daunting. Now in full swing, Heights Alliance's kitchen turns into a battlefield of multi-colored droplets of batter and stray bits of egg shell. Shouts of "Careful, hot! Coming through!" and "Oven, oven, oven, someone open the oven!" perfects the chaos. More than once, the open bag of flour in Kirishima's hand gets elbowed aside by Kaminari's enthusiastic stirring right next to him, which is fun—

—until a plume of white bursts into flames over the pan he's heating. Everyone stops and stares at the spontaneous pyrotechnics happening in their midst.

Then they flinch at the barked "Oi!" behind them, turning in eerie synchronicity to the sight of a very bewildered-looking Bakugou, scarf tugged half-way off his neck and cheeks red from the cold.

"What the hell are you idiots doi— Fuck, Kiri, that pan is way too hot! Is there somethin' in the oven or why is it smoking? Shit, gimme that!"

A few stomping steps and Bakugou is snatching up the form Sero has been frantically shaking in an attempt to knock the flan loose, setting it aside and moving on to lift Kirishima's mildly singed pan off the stove with one hand and opening the oven to a cloud of smoke with the other. The fire alarm above their heads beeps once in warning; Ashido cries out in dismay when she sees the vaguely cookie-shaped clumps that are very crisp around the edges.

"No! But the skulls! And the boom!"

"I'll show you fucking boom, Ash, you almost burned the kitchen down!"

Peeking over Bakugou's shoulder, "Oh, ours is almost done!", Kaminari adds in delight, fist-bumping Jirou. "We totally made this cheesecake our bitch!"

"It's undercooked, that's what it fucking is, bitch. Want everyone here to get salmonella, hah?!"

Whatever that is has Bakugou huffing out a big breath like a bull. Probably not so good, then. Carefully prying the pan out of Bakugou's grip, Kirishima tells him, "Welcome back, bro", chuckling nervously as Bakugou shifts his death glare to him.

"You're back early, so we're not quite done, but… Surprise! And congrats on your license!"

One of Bakugou's eyebrow rises. He doesn't say anything more until Ashido's wretched creation has been saved from imminent demise and the oven temperature has been adjusted to keep the cheesecake from becoming a hazard to everyone's health.

Then: A deep sigh. Fingers pinching the bridge of Bakugou's nose.

"What. The fuck."

All at once, explanations start flying, Jirou's blunt "Just helping you de-stress a bit, dude" layered with "Rest is super important! Especially after working so hard!" from Ashido and "Yeah! You deserve all the treats, Blasty!" from Kaminari. Sero grins and summarizes, "Everyone wanted to bake you something you'll like", nudging Bakugou's elbow with his own to snap him out of his stupor of dumbfounded blinking. "C'mon, it's a good idea, admit it."

Nope, back to frowning. Time for the big guns. Puppy-eyeing Bakugou in full force, Kirishima asks: "You'll try some of each, right? When it's all done?"

Bakugou opens his mouth, closes it. His eyebrows scrunch further, deep in thought. Finally, he says: "But… I don't… Thanks, I guess, I just don't eat much of that kinda stuff."

Silence.

Utter confusion spreads from Bakugou to each and every face in the room. Kaminari is the first to recover, yelping a "Huh?!" Kirishima feels to his very bones. "B-but… What d'you mean? You've been baking things for months!"

"Yeah, and?"

Like that makes any sense! Kirishima gapes at Bakugou. His brain hurts a little trying to follow his line of reasoning. "You bake stuff and then just… never eat any of it?"

There goes his running theory that Bakugou sneaks his share to his room to enjoy it in peace and privacy, or something. Come to think of it, even the times Kirishima was explicitly allowed to have any, they didn't share it. Bakugou just pushes slices of cake into his hands sometimes, or sticks cookies and such directly into his mouth mid-conversation. It's wholesome, in that uniquely rude way of his.

Bakugou shrugs, "Nope", bringing Kirishima's head back from the clouds. "Tends to disappear well enough on its own."

The pointed look that follows that particular call-out bounces off them without much effect, minds too preoccupied with what they've learned. "So the baking itself is the point, not the sweets…" Jirou is frowning a little when she comes to that conclusion, glancing around the mess they've made of the kitchen Bakugou was most likely planning to use for that exact purpose tonight.

The notion that Mission Bakusquad Bake Off managed to achieve the opposite of what they set out to do has everyone in the room looking a little down. True Heroes fix their mistakes, though. Kirishima smiles valiantly and goes: 

"Sorry, bro. Give us, hmm, half an hour to clean up and the place is yours!"

Nods all around. Kirishima grabs the plate upon which his barely-started roll of Baumkuchen has been waiting for him to continue, fully intending to throw it away—

Bakugou's hand slams his arm down on the counter. Wide-eyed, Kirishima's gaze snaps up to meet the other's, and the familiar glint of determination in it has warmth bubbling up in Kirishima's chest.

"To what, give up? Is wasting food manly now, Shitty Hair?"

Excitement joins that gut feeling that Bakugou will have his back, always. "You mean…?"

A gasp from Ashido behind them. "Oh, Lord of Explodo-Kills, are you offering your masterful baking skills to save us?"

Bakugou snorts, "Nah", throwing his jacket and scarf to places unknown and tugging up the sleeves of his uniform shirt. "You fools fucked all this up, so you can unfuck it, too. Starting with those shitty cookies of yours, Horns. Grab a knife, some cream and whatever food coloring we got. Oi, Sparks, you need that powdered sugar for anythin'?"

"All yours, bro", Kaminari grins with a double thumbs-up, trailing after Bakugou like an eager puppy. "What should Jack and I do? You think it's done now? I can't wait to try it, dude, I'm so hungry—"

"Sit still and fucking wait. You too, Tape Face, put that flan in the fridge or it'll never come out. Help decorate the cookies or whatever, I got other shit to fix first."

"On it, boss!", comes from Sero. Jirou just gives Bakugou a lazy salute and starts whipping the cream and sugar into a frosting. She must have some idea of where Bakugou is going with this.

"You."

Squaring his shoulders, Kirishima instantly offers his plate to Bakugou, knowing from many a sparring match and tutoring session which tone of Bakugou's normally so rough voice means him. "Less heat on the pan. More batter, 'cause more layers mean more rings and I want, like, a fuck-ton of them. Um… Anything else?"

Bakugou inspects the infant Baumkuchen for fifteen long, excruciating seconds. "Hm. Thin out the layers, or this thing will get too big to wrap around. And wash out the pan, shit'll taste burnt if ya don't." A pause. A scoff at the sheer suspense radiating from Kirishima. "What? That's about it."

A big, relieved sigh. "Dude! I'm so glad, I thought I'd messed it all up. Nobody told me how nerve-wracking baking can be, oh man."

A smirk, genuinely pleased. "I know." And that's why I fucking love it, goes unsaid yet not unheard. Kirishima can't resist pulling Bakugou into a side-hug at that, suddenly hit by how lucky he is that they're friends.

"Thank you. Means a ton that you're sharing this with us, y'know?"

The feeling multiplies as Bakugou merely exhales and lets it happen, even leans into it a bit. Grumbling, "Just tryin'a make sure the kitchen stays in one piece, idiot", and yeah, Kirishima doesn't believe a single word of that.

"Of course, of course. Okay! Washing out the pan, more batter, less heat, thinner layers. This cake will be badass, Baku, just you wait!"

And, sure, Kirishima might just be biased. Entirely too committed to their mission. Delusional from all the smoke he inhaled earlier.

In his opinion, though, the cookies the others have cut to size and frosted to look like miniature explosions are flawless, as is the fluffy cloud of a cheesecake Jirou pulls out of the oven with a bouncing-from-hype Kaminari by her side. The caramel flan Sero successfully flips on a plate looks so delicious, Kirishima immediately starts salivating — and honestly, when he slices off a piece of his Baumkuchen and sees the even green color interrupted by the rings that give the cake its name, he damn-near tears up.

"Holy shit, it worked. Like, we made this, guys!"

With pleading looks at Bakugou and the predictable reply of "The fuck are you dumbasses starin' at me for? Eat or whatever, I don't care", they load up on a piece of everything and definitely too much sugar for the late hour.

The distance to the dining table is too far; the kitchen is way cozier anyway as they spend a while simultaneously munching, badgering Bakugou with questions about the exam and, quite reluctantly (and after much silent judgement by said friend), cleaning up too. Eventually, everyone wheedles Bakugou into trying a tiny bite of their pastries, and they must've earned some of his respect with this whole thing because he hums and doesn't complain. Much.

By this point, Kirishima's day has already been made three times over. The fourth and final time occurs after they've said goodnight to the others and before they go to bed themselves, lingering on the bit of hallway between his and Bakugou's rooms. To Kirishima, some of the fondest moments of their friendship have happened here, where that feeling of togetherness and comfort clings to the walls and the carpet under their bare feet just as he clings to Bakugou's company for a few more minutes.

Kirishima likes to think it's the same for Bakugou. Best friends can read each other's mind like that.

"You said congrats before I told you."

Again, Bakugou's voice is softer. Mindful of the clock ticking steadily closer to curfew, or whatever is in Kirishima's eyes when he looks at him. Blinking, "Huh?", yawns out Kirishima. It's late and his sugar rush is definitely starting to wane.

Something about the hint of pink to Bakugou's cheeks tells him it's worth sticking around. "About my license. And stuff. You knew."

Ah. That. The smile returns to Kirishima's lips, effortless and so tender Bakugou should be calling him out on getting sappy with him. "'Course. We all did, man, you're a great Hero, one of the very best. Can't wait to go out there and—" A few well-executed punches into the air, a light laugh, "—kick ass together. It's about time!"

Yet all Bakugou does is hum, the line of his shoulders relaxing further. Openly satisfied, even happy, if his small smile is anything to go by.

"The best, Riot, and don't you forget it. I'm done playing catch-up, so you better keep up, got it?"

"You bet", Kirishima promises, heart warm with giddiness and the taste of hope on his tongue, sweeter than any cake in the world.