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it was past 3 in the morning yet you hadn't slept a wink. while those around you were concussed and soundfully sleeping, all you could think of was a steaming bowl of your favourite instant noodles you had spotted earlier in ochaco's pantry. you even resorted to binge-watching asmr mukbang videos of people eating said noodles, attempting to telepathically taste them through the screen to possibly satiate the ever-growing hunger in your tummy.
you don't know why you didn't cook it earlier, maybe it was because you didn't want to share a bite or have people watch you cook. nevertheless, the hunger had persisted until now thus you finally decided to do something about it.
as quietly as you could, you made your way out of the room, eyes glued to the ground, careful not to step on any of your ex-classmates lying on the floor. only when the door clicked shut, did you let out a breath you had unconciously been holding in.
now that the hard part was over, you excitedly made your way to the kitchen, drooling at just the thought of indulging in a bowl of the instant noodles you had so been dreaming about the past few hours.
you went by your usual cooking routine, plopping the noodles into boiling water, adding the seasoning powder, snipping a few stalks of spring onions and having an egg on standby. you were probably so invested in your feat that you completely missed the sound of a door opening and closing.
"what the hell are you doing here." you jumped out of your skin, nearly letting out a scream at the sudden voice. you almost broke your neck with how quick you whipped your head around, seeing bakugo at the door with his arms crossed. an angry mother catching her child sneaking out of the house was likely the closest thing you would use to describe his demeanor.
"i'm uh- cooking."
"at this time?" he raised an eyebrow.
"why are you up then?" you retaliated, setting down the chopsticks you had been using to stir the noodles.
"i asked first idiot."
"i couldn't sleep and i was extremely hungry," embarassment slowly creeped up your spine. you weren't expecting anyone to find out you were cooking noodles at such an ungodly hour, let alone catch you in the act. "now you answer."
instead of answering your question, he stood there completely silent as if contemplating. a resolute huff left his lips before he headed over to where you were cooking, inspecting the ingredients.
"how the hell did you cut the spring onions, why are they so damn uneven." he scowled at the garnish like it was dung on the plate.
why you were so ashamed you didn't know. "i cut 'em with scissors. why do you even care that much.. 's not like you're gonna be eating it." if he was going to be in the kitchen the least he could do was not judge your lazy cooking habits.
"shut up." was the last thing he said before heading into the pantry and coming back out with the same packet of noodles you were cooking. he then went right beside you, and started to prepare his own ingredients.
you couldn't help but stare at his arms when they reached up to grab a pot from the cabinet above or the way his forearm strained when carrying the pot half-filled with water back onto the stove. muscles sculpted from years of vigorous training and exercise on full display all thanks to the black tank top he was wearing. you silently awed when he started swiftly cutting up some green veggies, unfazed when specks of hot water splashed on his fingers when he dropped them in.
"what are you staring at." immediately, you turned back to your own pot of noodles, ignoring the burning of your ears and the fact that bakugo caught you ogling at him like some voyeur. you aimlessly stirred your noodles trying your best to act indifferent. only it proved to be a lot more daunting from how he was surveilling your every move while waiting for his water to start bubbling.
all your nerves were on edge under his eyes to the point you could barely move or even think straight. you almost messed up cracking the egg by hitting it one too many times on the counter, causing the egg whites to leak out. does his water seriously take this long to boil?
"could you highkey stop staring, i'm getting overly self-concious and i can't function properly if you keep intensely watching me." as embarrassing as it was to admit it out loud, you were honestly more fed up after the tenth mistake you made in the span of 1 minute. this was supposed to be your secret alone time refuge, not masterchef shenanigans with gordon ramsey standing right at your station.
"tch." he finally looks away, adding his noodles into the pot when the water started boiling, much to your relief. you were too engrossed in your own shame that you failed to notice the faint pink dusting on his cheeks. "you're just shit at cooking."
you scoffed. "i make these noodles on like a weekly basis. it's just cos you're making me nervous for no reason." the moment you finished the sentence regret and cringe sunk deep into your bones. that sounded a lot worse than i thought.
from your side, a cocky huff knocked out from him, you could practically see the grin plastered on his face. "i got it the first time dumbass, you don't hafta spell it out for me. if 'm making you this shy and jittery then get out of the kitchen, nerd."
"wha..," you reached into one of the drawers for a coaster and a small bowl. "was just about to leave anyways," you stomped out of the kitchen before he had any chance to see the blush surfacing on your face. you did some self-reflection on the few sentences you had spoken so far throughout the whole conversation.
after 8 years you figured you'd be better at talking to him. yet after 8 years, nothing about your conversational skills had changed, neither had your feelings towards him. all throughout highschool you denied or refused come to terms that you had a girly crush on him. you even convinced yourself the feelings would fade if you weren't seeing him on a daily basis. but the flutters in your heart when you coincedentally spotted him on a patrol run or happened to be on the same crime scene beating up villians was enough to prove you completely wrong. it was only recently that you finally accepted the feelings you had been harbouring for him, the nights you spent finding reasons to hate him coming to an end.
you considered the two of you close enough to hold a whole conversation or be able to enjoy silence without it feeling awkward. but definitely not close enough for him to be liking you like that. you weren't planning on acting on any of the feelings you held for him. subtle glances and coincidental bump-ins were plenty for you.
you were pleasantly surprised when another pot was placed beside yours a few minutes later and another figure joined right beside you at the table. the smell wafting from his pot was arguably a lot more aromatic than yours. even the contents in his pot looked a lot more diverse and appetizing, much to your displeasure. you tried to act as if you didn't want to absoulutely devour his noodles, by stuffing your mouth with your own noodles. but he starting slurping loud, obnoxiously loud, as if to show off how good it tasted and how it was most likely heaps better than yours.
"i know you want it."
"excuse me?" you choked on your broth.
"don't think i don't notice the way you've been staring at my pot like some freak." he set down his chopsticks and crossed his arms. "if you want some just take it, stop acting like i'm gonna gnaw off your arm."
"never thought i'd see the day that you’d insist on sharing your food." you petulantly replied as you helped yourself to his cooking, earning a "shut up" from him.
his noodles had sausages, neatly sliced cabbages, an egg, and not to mention the spring onion which looked professionally cut compared to yours. you slurped up the noodles alongside the side dishes and broth. instantly, you tasted the difference between yours and his. his was so goddamn better. better than any of the other times you cooked it.
"well?" he frowned, leaning down to get a better look at your face.
"well what."
"is it good?" it was laughable how he was pretending not to care about your opinion while asking for it.
you profusely nodded, a contented smile grew on your face. "you're really good. cook for me next time."
instead of reflexively asking you to shut up, he watched you slurp up another mouthful, straight from the pot itself. "could've just asked me to cook for you y'know," he muttered so quiet you barely heard it. a small lock of hair fell and he quickly swept it to the back of your ears, the action shocking both you and he himself.
blood immediately rushed to your face, burning it bright red, mostly because of the sweet gesture but also at the offer he snuck in before shocking the ever-living hell out of the two of you. his hand retracted back in the blink of an eye, immediately shoving it in his pocket. a little precaution incase his hand moved before he could. the movement came so naturally—and that immensely concerned him.
dead silence filled the air for about 2 seconds before you broke it.
"how sweet of you to make such an offer. i might cry." you joked, a piss poor attempt to soothe the awkwardness. you lifted your head up to find bakugo staring slightly wide-eyed at you, the red at the tips of his ears prominent.
"you piss me off." he bluntly replied, trying to play it off as his palms rubbed his ears. seeing the all-mighty bakugo katsuki flustered was definitely a first, and you couldn't help but find it somewhat endearing. even going so far as to describe the sight as cute.
taking another mouthful, you spoke, "you better not be joking about that offer cos im ready to abuse the hell out of it." you could practically see his ego reinflate to its former size. "how d'ya get it to taste so good? it doesn't turn out like this when i cook it."
"you just suck at cooking. next time watch and learn." he crossed his arms and your eyes shamelessly dipped down to his biceps for a second before looking back up.
"sure thing, having pro hero dynamight act as a housewife for me doesn't sound bad to me at all." you rest your cheek on your palm.
"he's gonna blast your face off if you don't wipe that smug grin off of your face."
the two of you spent the next hour talking about whatever. from him criticising your pot of noodles to complaining about hero life, to sharing about your own personal lives. it was surpisingly easy to relate to each other, having shared opinions to many things. that's when you realised,
you could get used to this.
before you knew it, you were washing dishes in the kitchen while he was wiping down the table outside with a paper towel. he was done way before you since there wasn't much of a mess, and sat down at the table once he finished cleaning. it was only when he heard the water from the tap stop flowing, that he caught himself waiting for you.
that was definitely not in his plan. infact eating with you for over an hour was not intended as well.
now, the two of you were walking back to your own designated rooms, arms brushing against each others, a comfortable silence settling in the air.
"you still haven't answered my question," you spoke.
"hah?"
"why were you even awake in the first place?"
"... thought you were some brain-dead criminal," his head diverted to the walls of the hallway, you thought he sounded rather embarassed.
when he woke up to footsteps (curse his light sleeping), his immediate thought was that it was somebody who was dumb enough to break into a hero's house. it was much more pleasant to find you cooking in the kitchen than a criminal, nevermind the time. he had intended to go back to bed once he realised it was just you, but a strong wave of hesitancy washed over him, and he found himself walking to you. he chalked it up as hunger, as much as he knows it isn't true.
he doesn't miss the way he becomes hyper-aware of your presence, be it on a battleground, fighting a villain or on the streets, patrolling. or the need to do something impressive when your eyes are on him. as much as he'd like to believe, he knows it wasn't hunger that led him to share a pot of noodles with you.
his answer earned a giggle from you. "thanks for ensuring our safety, dynamight. sorry if i woke you up by the way."
"whatever dipshit."
his hand was on the doorknob to the boys designated room when you wished him a goodnight.
"goodnight bakugo."
you half-expected him to just walk into the room but he just stood there, staring hard at the doorknob.
"it's katsuki." he quietly said.
what was he telling that to me for? of course i know-
oh.
blood rushed to your face and your heart beat a little faster. you had never been so flattered in your goddamn life.
"oh! uh- um- good night katsuki.. s-sweet dreams." entering the girls room the second you finished your sentence.
he went into the boys room a few seconds after you did, unable to ignore how much he liked hearing you say his name.