christmas baked salmon recipe (serves 4)

ingredients:

• 2 lemons, thinly sliced

• 1 large skin-on salmon fillet (about 3 lb.)

• rock salt

• freshly ground black pepper

• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

• 6 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted

• 2 tbsp. honey

• 1 tsp. chopped fresh thyme leaves

• 1 tsp. dried oregano

the recipe for oven-baked salmon with garlic butter isn’t all that difficult to find. they pluck it from some food blog bakugou follows regularly. it promises to be simple, with clear, no-nonsense instructions attached — just what they need for class 1-a’s year-end dinner.

cooking is one of the very few things that calms bakugou down, so long as she’s doing it alone. other people only mess up the food, & she realised long ago that if she wants anything done right, she has to do it herself. 

strangely enough, she doesn’t mind her best friend helping out on this one. she trusts kirishima enough not to mess up, or at least to follow her instructions.

she carries the baking sheet over to the free space on the kitchen counter, humming under her breath — but stops in her tracks as she hears the stupid voice at the door.

“hey hey, it’s the masterchef girlfriends!” sero pokes their head into the kitchen, pointing finger guns. “sooooo, what’s cooking?”

girlfriends? bakugou whips round as if someone’s slapped her across the face. she drops the baking sheet she’s holding on the counter with a deafening clang . “shut up, moron!” 

the chatter from the common room outside abruptly transitions into an awkward silence, but then someone (round face, from the sound of it) starts talking, & the conversations bubble up again. 

“ whoa , chill out, kats. i was just messing with ya.” sero looks outside nervously, & ducks out of the doorway. “uh, later!”

“idiot,” bakugou grumbles, & turns back to the fish. funny how everyone’s favourite hobby these days is causing her trouble. maybe it’s because christmas is supposed to be a romantic holiday. of course sero had her own ideas about things, considering how bakugou & kirishima have been hanging out the whole year, & now they’re working together in the kitchen, in matching aprons too.

“hey, kats. why’d you get so angry when people think we’re girlfriends?” kirishima brings out extra bowls, frowning. her spiky red hair is tied back with a white headband, no pressure no diamonds written across it in bold black symbols.

“because we’re -” because we’re not, bakugou almost says, but clears her throat loudly. “because we’ve got twenty people to cook for by eight, & we don’t have time to chit-chat. the damn fish won’t make itself.”

step 1: preheat oven to 350°. line a large rimmed baking sheet with foil (line the foil with parchment to prevent any interaction of the lemon slices with the foil). in center of parchment, arrange lemon slices in an even layer.

“actually, kats — can we talk?” kirishima looks up to the recipe sheet briefly, then turns the knob on the oven, heating it up.

bakugou tears a large sheet of foil to line the baking sheet, followed by the parchment. she should’ve been expecting the question since sero opened her big mouth just now, but she’s still utterly unprepared to answer in a way that doesn’t make her look stupid. ah, shit. here we go. “yeah?”

“so we’re not girlfriends. what are we, then?” kirishima picks up the knife to slice the lemons thinly, the way bakugou taught her a few months back.

“uh… i dunno. i don’t want to make things complicated or anything.” 

“no, no. i get that. i just think, y’know, we’ve been doing a lot of stuff together. actually, i’m having the best time, & i’m interested -”

“you know i’ll always care for you, eiji. lemons, please?”

“really, kats?” kirishima places the lemon slices down in neat rows, her red eyes narrowed just enough to make bakugou’s heart sink into her stomach. “ really?”

step 2: s eason salmon with salt and pepper and place on top of lemon slices. 

“i - hmm.” the sudden question catches bakugou off guard. she shakes her head, & looks around for the salt & pepper, but kirishima is ahead of her. the last thing she wants is for her best friend to think of her as a liar. “i mean, i’ve been thinking about it, but -”

“i just want to be clear on where we are right now.” the redhead sprinkles salt & pepper on the salmon, brow furrowed in concentration. her voice is gentle, but clearly shot through with disappointment. “if you’re not feeling it, just say the word & we can just be friends. which is fine too, by the way -”

“hey, hey, eiji. it’s not like that.” bakugou shakes her head quickly. she thinks about all the time she’s spent with kirishima, since they met at the beginning of the year. their training & late-night study sessions together. their dinners in the cafeteria. hanging out in the common room, sometimes falling asleep on the couch by accident. choosing a recipe for the christmas party last week, scrolling through food blogs until they found something that was easy enough to make. even grocery shopping yesterday, calculating how much food would feed twenty hungry classmates. “i… want us to stay together.”

step 3: in a small bowl, whisk garlic, butter, honey, thyme, and oregano until combined. pour over salmon, then fold up parchment and foil around salmon.

“sure. but how?”  kirishima gathers the ingredients for the sauce, passing them to bakugou. “do you think we’re just friends who, i don’t know, hook up every other day?”

bakugou whisks the ingredients in silence. she knows better than to trap kirishima in a situationship like this, some weird intimate place. it wouldn’t be fair. she pauses. the sound of the whisk moving in the bowl lasts for a minute. “what do you want us to be?”

“girlfriends. partners.” kirishima, unsurprisingly, doesn’t miss a beat. “whatever word you want to use for it.”

right, okay. bakugou shakes her head. her heart skips a beat. none of this should surprise her. she can’t believe this is happening — someone liking her enough to stick around for the long haul. at the end of it all, she’s scared of what it means to want more. 

“i’ve never done this whole…” she makes a vague hand motion, folding the parchment & foil around the fish with the other hand. “... commitment, relationship, love thing before. & i’m not sure if i can do it right.”

step 4: bake salmon until opaque, cooked through, and flesh easily flakes with a fork, about 25 minutes.

kirishima puts it into the oven, breaking into a sharp-toothed grin. “you’re already doing everything right!”

“you’re kidding. really?”

“yeah! who else sits down for hours helping me study hero theory? & listens to me talk about my trading card collection? & you don’t even do hugs but you hug me when i’m sad, & i really like that…”

“i mean… it’s cool. i like spending time with you.” bakugou thinks about them cooking together for the rest of their lives, & a quiet warmth grows inside her, so different from her usual explosive heat.

kirishima nods enthusiastically, but her red eyes widen just as quickly. she snaps her fingers. “oh - shit. we need to do that topping for the fish. tape - tap - ”

“tapenade?” bakugou’s already filling the pan with orange juice, dropping cranberries into it. she reaches for a metal bowl on the counter, filling it with almonds. “yeah, i thought we were forgetting something.” 

step 5: heat broiler. broil salmon, watching closely, until browned in spots, 4 to 6 minutes.

“i guess it’s kind of like cooking, y’know.” kirishima puts the salmon in the broiler. her hardened form is impervious to the heat so far. “stuff gets easier if we talk it out, work together.”

bakugou puts her arm around kirishima reassuringly. love is definitely harder than making a baked salmon, but just the same, she’s not doing this alone. “girlfriends it is, eiji.”

she wouldn’t trade anything for the redhead’s smile in that moment, or the glitter of relief in those bright eyes. in fact, she has a good idea of exactly what to do next.

she can’t resist leaning in for a small kiss. needless to say, they’ve done this so many times — but this feels like their first. both a do-over of everything they’ve been through together so far, & promise that they’ll be so much more than this from now on.

their lips touch first, followed by the grit of their teeth against each other. 

the first second is embarrassing, because who even gets that wrong? & yet the next few moments feel absolutely, undeniably amazing. soft-sweet-blunt-sharp, cooking-together-with-your-girlfriend-on-christmas-night, only-two-people-in-the-world-levels of absolutely fucking magical. bakugou lets herself indulge the thought that all those old-timey romcoms they’ve watched together, all the ones she pretends to hate, might just have something in them after all.

kirishima breaks away to laugh, shaking her head. she pulls her headband away, shaking her hair out. “you wanna try that again, kats?”

bakugou turns slowly to look through the doorway. everyone’s still busy setting the table, or putting the final touches on the christmas tree. her gaze shifts across to the clock on the wall, telling her there’s still a few minutes till eight.

she puts her hand on kirishima’s cheek, pulling the other girl closer with the grin she reserves for her quietest, most reckless moments. “yeah, why the hell not.”

step 6: top with holiday tapenade before serving.

they sprinkle the tapenade over the fish just before they carry it out into the common room — a mixture of cranberries soaked in orange juice, toasted almonds, parsley & pomegranate seeds. kirishima thinks it looks exactly like the picture on the blog, & bakugou has to agree. 

the christmas lights, strung around the hall this morning, light up in every colour. the tables are illuminated with tall red candles in golden holders, decorated with sprigs of holly at intervals. red napkins folded into christmas tree shapes have been placed on each plate. 

everyone scrambles to their seats as they see the fish laid out on the table. bakugou & kirishima sit down next to each other, exchanging glances quickly. 

sero walks over, tapping their fingers together with an apologetic look. “hey, kats, about just now…”

“die,” bakugou says immediately, putting on her best glare.

“okay, sorry -”

“i’m kidding. don’t sweat it.” breaking her glare, bakugou flaps her hand. she tries her best not to smile as she remembers every one of the five-odd kisses from just now. sero visibly exhales in relief. “enjoy the fish, we worked way too hard for all you damn idiots. i better not see any flesh on those bones or i’ll kill you.”

the common room fills with the clang of cutlery, the sound of laughter as everyone digs in. kirishima squeezes bakugou’s hand under the table as they eat. she’s all cheerful warmth now, radiant in the flickering candlelight. 

it’s just past eight, & bakugou thinks she could get used to this.