Chapter Text
It was a quiet night. The roommates were out shopping and probably blowing their money on something ridiculous. That meant Bakugo had the apartment, and more importantly, the kitchen to himself.
He had his favorite denim apron on and was stirring a savory stew on the counter, the song “Pour Some Sugar On Me” (Def Leppard) playing on record in the living room. It was the most peace Bakugo had experienced in a while and he had to make the most of it. It wasn’t like this happened often. Being roommates with Denki, Mina, and Aoyama was tiring, loud, and to be completely honest, there was too much glitter involved. They did pay their fair share of rent, however, so that made up for everything.
Bakugo wanted to taste the stew so he pulled a spoon out the drawer behind him. Yes, the stew was thick enough and didn’t need any more salt. With the silver spoon still in his mouth, he looked up quickly when the doorbell rang.
Who could be visiting their place at 8 PM a day before Thanksgiving? The crew couldn’t be back yet, and besides, they had a key so they should’ve just waltzed right in. Bakugo rolled his eyes at the inconvenience of leaving the kitchen but he went to the door all the same.
He paused with his hand on the door knob, checking the little hole in the door that allowed him to see the hall without opening the door an inch. It was deserted. “What the hell?” He thought to himself. Bakugo finally opened the door and his jaw dropped when he saw what was on his doorstep, the spoon clattering on the concrete.
A perfectly golden, tied with a bow, sweet smelling, probably 16 pound turkey sat tantalizingly hot on his door mat. “Holy- What- Who?” Yes. It had made Bakugo go entirely speechless. He forced his mouth shut and bent down to pick the bird up. He heaved it into the kitchen and placed it on the counter. When he went back to the entry to close the door, he noticed there was a white piece of paper still lying there, next to the spoon. It had been tucked underneath the huge main course and he hadn’t seen it the first time.
Now Bakugo sat at the table- reading the note and shaking his head repeatedly. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. What a complicated way of asking someone out…
The letter read:
Dear Bakugo Katsuki,
This is probably very unexpected, but I was super nervous about trying to ask you in person about something like this. I’ve brought you a turkey- I know, weird right?- in hopes that you might be impressed with it and maybe with me too. I’m not that great in the kitchen, but I’ve heard you’re absolutely amazing at cooking and I wanted to make your Thanksgiving holiday a little easier by doing the hardest job for you. If you like it, do you want to maybe go out sometime? I was thinking ice skating and hot cocoa if that sounded fun to you!
If it’s horrible, send it back. I won’t be offended at all- I’m kind of expecting it to be inedible if I'm being honest.
Hopefully yours,
Eijiro Kirishima
“What on Earth makes you think this fucking beast of a bird is inedible??? I can already tell my job is done, you idiot.” Bakugo folded the letter and tucked it into a pocket in his apron. “I guess I have to try it… just to make sure, that’s it.”
He bolted from his chair and grabbed a fork and knife, his actions more quick than he liked. It appeared he actually did want to try this masterpiece. Where could he take a little taste where no one would notice? “Ah, screw it. This is my damn bird now, I’m gonna eat it how I want.” And with no further thought, the blond stabbed the turkey in the best part of the meat and cut a large slice for himself.
It was soft but perfectly cooked, it was flavorful and fragrant but wasn’t overbearing, and most confusingly, it was exactly how Bakugo made his own Thanksgiving turkey every year. He swallowed and swore again immediately after, this time in shock. “Who gave him my recipe? Which man turned traitor and gave Kirishima my iconic turkey recipe? There is no way in hell this is a coincidence.”
As Bakugo threw his chair on the ground in anger, the door opened again and the glittering trio flung themselves into the apartment. All of them stopped in their tracks, turning to each other as they saw the oddity on the table and Bakugo’s flaming eyes.
Mina, smiling and curling a strand of her short pink hair around a finger, recovered first and asked, “Oh hey! Did you get the turkey done already then?”
“Oh and mon Dieu, it must be foul if you’re so angry about it!” Aoyama floated over to the table and gasped dramatically when he saw the stunning turkey. “Oh, but you have cut it right down the middle! Whatever will we do for our Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Shut up disco La Madeleine! This is my turkey! It was a gift and it’s not for you lot!”
Denki had been busy putting the early Black Friday deal shopping bags on the floor but he was now catching up on the situation. “I don’t know if it’s so bad! We can just put some herbs in the cut and it’ll be fine. Is that gonna work?”
Aoyama nodded in consideration while Mina gave a thumbs up. “Sure, that’ll work just fine! Great idea Denki!”
He shrugged smugly and Bakugo hit him in the back of the head. “No, I’m serious,” Bakugo growled low, “This turkey isn’t for you demons to destroy on Thanksgiving. This was a gift of affection and I will not let it be torn to pieces by a pack of dogs! Now show me what you blew your paychecks on this week.”
Mina’s eyes went wide and she began to grin slowly. “I’m sorry, but did you say a GIFT OF AFFECTION???” She started to shriek and dance around the group with her hands flailing.
“Oh quit it, would you? Yeah, it’s a turkey made by Kirishima. Is that really such a big deal?”
At this the trio gasped simultaneously and Bakugo was actually impressed at their timing. “A BIG DEAL?” Aoyama was ascending, Denki had sparks flying from his hands, and Mina was hyperventilating?
“Yo, chill!” Bakugo shook Aoyama by the shoulders, then gave up and slapped his face hard.
“Kirishima? THE Kirishima? The one that’s at this college because he got a football scholarship because he was the best quarterback our high school ever had? The broke so many records it goes past ten which means I can’t count to it Kirishima? Surely not that Kirishima?” Denki cried, his voice increasing in pitch as he went on.
“Yes, that Kirishima!”
“I’m gonna FREAKIN’ DIE!!!”
“NoOoOoO! Don’t do that Mina! You are too magnific at such a young age to die!”
“It’s- It’s a figure of speech, Aoyama.”
“Oh. Excuse moi.”