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Shouto doesn't like birthdays.
He remembers, years ago, when his mother would give him a card and wish him a ‘happy birthday’.
He’s not sure at what age she stopped doing it.
Not being the most educated about birthdays, especially since he’s never had a birthday party (or been to one) throughout the whole 16 years of his miserable life, all he knows is that you're supposed to have fun.
His father's meaning of fun is staying at home and beating the shit out of him until he's left vomiting on the floor.
Shouto’s not sure if that’s a typical person's idea of fun, but sometimes he gets a pack of new biro pens, so that's a plus.
Mina’s type of fun is grabbing a marker and drawing moustaches on people's faces. He knows, because she did it last year to Kirishima. He's still not completely sure what type of joy she gets from doing this, but he's trying his best.
On the other hand, Bakugou’s type of fun is to cook. Or, at least, that's what most people think.
In truth, Bakugou’s idea of fun is a grand day out. A grand day out, for him, is a walk in the park. A walk in the park involving twisting his foot on the pavement in oddly specific places. Shouto remembers seeing a bug crawling just there. There's a small stain on the ground now.
He doesn't want to relive the day he saw Bakugou smile.
Now, today is Shouto's birthday.
He likes to think that his own way of having fun is being able to enjoy a day of peace.
A whole day where he can simply do as he pleases, where no one can bother him. Especially that imbecile, Bakugou.
“Oi, Candy Cane!” screams a voice from below, as if on cue.
Shouto sighs.
“Coming,” he says, puts on his slippers and gets out of his oh-so-warm bed.
He can already feel a headache brewing.
He arrives at the kitchen, unsure of what they've done now. It can't be as bad as the time someone decided it'd be a good idea to bake cupcakes on a Saturday morning without any form of guidance, never mind a recipe.
It's worse.
Tomato sauce on the ground, a growing fire in the corner, onions rolling across counters like tennis balls.
A knife goes whizzing towards Shouto's head, and he steps out of the way, narrowly avoiding the blade. He hears a ‘thunk’, and doesn't need to turn around to know it's embedded itself into the wall behind him.
“Sorry!” he hears someone shout, and he thinks it's Uraraka.
Shouto sighs. It's hard to make out anyone in the chaos, but it's obvious Yaoyorozu isn't here to help when he hears Mineta shriek: “I can't believe Yaoyorozu left to buy tea! I didn't even get to see what colour underwear she was wearing toda-” – before he's promptly cut off with a deserved punch to the face.
“Somebody put out this fucking fire!” Bakugou’s screaming. He's spraying a fire extinguisher in the complete opposite direction to where the fire is. Kaminari seems to have short-circuited, and is presently sitting on the floor as he’s violently blasted by spurts of foam. You could hardly make out his face.
Where are the teachers?
Izuku looks more than ready to bolt, and makes it halfway across the kitchen before he notices Shouto.
He smiles cheerily. “Everything's under control,” he says, shooting him an enthusiastic thumbs up and then slipping on a stray tomato that had been sitting on the ground. “Ow.”
Shouto is a little confused at how this all came to be, but he helps Izuku to his feet, sweeps up the remnants of squashed tomato and grabs a fire extinguisher, just in case.
“Let me help!” he hears Jiro yell, and then there's a thud and a shout as she goes toppling back.
“Wow,” she wheezes. “This fire extinguisher’s pretty heavy.”
“What's going on?” Shouto asks Bakugou, as he helps put out the fire. Bakugou is no longer spraying Kaminari with a fire extinguisher, and is now trying to swat a fly with a spatula.
Bakugou scoffs. He accidentally lets go of the spatula mid-swing and it goes flying towards Kaminari’s face.
“Don't look at me,” he says. He jerks a thumb in Izuku's direction. “Ask him.”
Izuku looks away. He looks slightly guilty, but he's grinning sheepishly. “I wanted to try out that new spaghetti bolognese recipe!” he says to Shouto brightly.
He's pretty sure how that turned out, judging by what he's just seen.
“Why,” Shouto asks helplessly, “did you try to coach him? Again?”
Bakugou has the decency to look the slightest bit ashamed.
The rest of his day goes smoothly after that.
Shouto's having fun.
His revision notes for tomorrow's test are laid out on his desk neatly, and Bakugou is keeping his distance.
At one point, he gets hungry and goes downstairs to the kitchen to grab a snack.
Izuku's there, dangerously close to the stove. He sees Shouto, and drops the ingredients in his hands before muttering something about going to bed, even though it's 11 in the morning.
“You never told us it was your birthday,” Izuku says after Shouto gets off the phone with Fuyumi. It’s dark out, and he’d called to ask if she would be sending over any biro pens this year.
She said no.
Shouto shrugs. “You never asked,” he says, bluntly, but not unkindly.
Izuku frowns. “Well, you have to tell me when it’s your birthday. It’s a best friend thing.”
“It is?” he asks, perplexed.
Uraraka appears behind him. She nods seriously. “It's kind of a big deal.”
Shouto looks at the time, and shrugs. “Well, I’m going to bed now,” he says. “I’m sorry for not telling you it was my birthday. I’ll keep it in mind for next year.”
He gets up from the couch, nursing a cup of warm tea in his hands - before he’s harshly yanked back, and the tea spills over his shirt. He wrinkles his nose. “Yuck.”
He's handed a napkin that does nothing to help the soaked clothing. “Sorry,” Uraraka says.
She doesn’t look very sorry, but Shouto often has a hard time reading people, so he’s probably just imagining the smirk on her face.
“That’s OK,” he says. Bakugou scoffs.
Since when was he here?
Izuku clears his throat, and Shouto turns to him. “Shouto, it’s not OK for you to just walk away! We have to do something to celebrate your birthday!”
“Like what?” he asks. He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, and tries to ignore the uncomfortable, warm dampness of his shirt against his skin.
“Well, we can’t host a party,” says Uraraka thoughtfully. Izuku nods.
“True. Everyone else has gone to bed, and it’s late,” he says. Izuku suddenly looks a little too energised for the time of day, and that's when Shouto starts worrying. “How about a cake?”
“A cake?” Uraraka muses, putting a finger up to her chin.
“Yeah! I can bake-”
“No,” Shouto and Bakugou say at the same time, and for once he’s glad they agree on something.
Izuku pouts. “Fine.”
“Should we get Sato to bake it?”
“No, he’s out for the weekend with his parents, isn't he?”
“Oh, yeah. How about Yaoyorozu?”
“She’s asleep.”
“Can Kacchan bake a cake?”
Uraraka and Izuku turn to Bakugou expectantly, who shakes his head furiously.
“Hell no. Baking cakes are for weirdos.”
Izuku frowns. “Hey, but didn’t you bake a cake for me when we were younger? You know, when Auntie Mitsuki forced you to-”
Bakugou sniffs. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Wait,” Shouto butts in, very confused and slightly overwhelmed. “A cake?”
“Yeah!” Izuku says. “A birthday cake!”
His face suddenly falls. “Wait,” he says, “don’t tell me you’ve never had a birthday cake.”
Shouto shrugs. “As in the school cafeteria cake? Yeah, I’ve had it.”
“That’s pretty close, I guess. Did you like it?”
Shouto scrunches his face up. “No.”
Uraraka and Izuku look at each other.
“I have an idea,” she says, and Izuku smiles.
Somehow, they manage to drag Bakugou along too. Apparently, they got permission from Aizawa to leave campus, which Shouto is uncertain is true, because there’s no way he would let them go at this hour.
“Birthday cake is different from school cake,” Uraraka says confidently. “...Right?”
Izuku purses his lips. He’s trailing behind her as they make their way down the street. Shouto doesn’t know where they’re going. “...Yeah!” he says after a moment of thought. “The names are completely different!”
“You guys are idiots,” Bakugou grumbles. “I can’t believe I have to go to bed late tonight, and all because of you dumbasses.”
Izuku skips over to Bakugou, tries to link arms with him, and earns a bruise to the cheek.
“We’re here!” Uraraka declares. Izuku whoops.
They’ve stopped outside a grocery store.
Bakugou has noticed a trail of ants and is subtly stomping on them with an expression of barely-concealed glee. “I’ll stay out here,” he declares, but Izuku drags him and Shouto inside, and then Bakugou's not grinning anymore.
“Kacchan, help us find a cake!” Izuku calls out as he disappears behind a shelf. Bakugou mutters something foul under his breath, but follows him, and Uraraka bounds off to who-knows-where, leaving Shouto standing at the entrance, alone.
“You okay there?” asks the woman at the till after a while. She’s slumped over the counter, and Shouto is almost concerned. He nods.
“Yes, thank you. Do you know where my friends went?”
She glances around lazily. “You mean those kids who were running about the store, yelling about cake?” She shrugs. “No idea.”
Shouto nods and mumbles his thanks.
He starts wandering about the empty store, then comes across Bakugou and Izuku in the dessert section. He sees Uraraka in the far corner trying to do a backflip over a stool and decides not to question it.
“Shouto!” Izuku yells, waving him over. He’s holding three cakes inside their individual sealed plastic boxes. “Do you like chocolate, red velvet, or vanilla?”
Shouto blinks. “Uh,” he says.
There's a horrible cackle that comes from behind him. “How about the prune cake?” And then there’s this brown, sticky looking cake being shoved in his face, and Shouto has to physically push Bakugou away to get away from the stench. Bakugou’s grinning evilly, and Shouto decides that he needs to get away as quickly as possible.
“Personally,” Uraraka says, materialising beside them, “I prefer chocolate cake.”
Shouto leans away. “I don’t mind,” he says, just so that they can leave as soon as possible. Izuku sighs.
“‘Eenie meenie miney mo’ it is, then,” he says, and then he and Uraraka gather round the cakes and perform some kind of demonic ritual that Shouto does not want to get involved in.
“Vanilla!” Izuku declares after they finish their chanting. He drops the cake into Shouto’s hands. Shouto fumbles, barely managing to catch it.
“You need to fucking pay for it, idiots,” Bakugou says, interrupting Izuku and Uraraka’s unhinged celebration. Shouto’s still holding the cake, still utterly confused.
“Right,” Izuku says. “Money.”
Uraraka laughs nervously. She starts to turn away. “Aw man!” she says in a strange tone. “I forgot to bring any! Silly me!” She shoves her hands in her pockets, hiding the ¥2000 note that Shouto remembers seeing sticking out of them before, and starts whistling a warbling, off-key tune.
The note must have been Shouto’s imagination. Uraraka’s a very honest person, after all.
“I can pay,” he offers, already pulling out his father’s credit card. Izuku rushes to stop him.
“No, no, no! That’s okay!” He turns to look at Bakugou, an innocent smile plastered on his face. “Haha, Kacchan?” he begins. “Would you happen to have any-”
“No.”
“I didn’t even finish!”
“No.”
Izuku doesn’t hide his disappointment after being shut down, and it makes him feel bad, so Shouto pulls out his father’s card again. “Are you sure I can’t pay? I don't see what the problem is.”
Izuku pats down his pockets and returns woefully empty-handed. “If you… don’t mind?” he says weakly. He has the decency to look ashamed.
“We’ll pay you back,” Uraraka promises. Shouto doubts whether she's telling the truth.
They go back to the dorms, Izuku swinging the plastic bag dangerously in his hands, talking Shouto’s ear off about some new hero who'd made it into the top 25 this week, whilst Uraraka and Bakugou bicker ahead of them. Shouto tries his hardest to listen to Izuku over their shouting.
It's 11 p.m. when they arrive back in the common room, where Izuku forces Bakugou to the kitchen to ice the cake and Uraraka pushes Shouto towards the table and into a chair.
“Now just wait here, okay?” she says, pats his back twice, and then leaves. Once again, Shouto is left alone in the painful silence.
He sits there for a while, contemplating leaving to go to bed because he is tired and he has a test tomorrow. He's not sure what Izuku and Uraraka are up to, and why they had bought a cake. So much is happening at once that at this point, Shouto thinks he needs to lie down.
He hears a chant of ‘One, two, three!’ before Izuku and Uraraka come out from the kitchen, party hats resting on their heads and four party horns in their hands. They're smiling. Shouto is ready to run.
“Happy birthday!” they say. Uraraka blows her party horn loudly to announce a very irritated Bakugou’s arrival, carrying the cake on a paper plate.
Bakugou sets the cake down in front of him, and Shouto can make out Bakugou's messy scrawl of ‘Happy Birthday Shouto (fuck you)’ in red frosting. He frowns.
“Wait, the cake was for me?”
Izuku huffs. “It's your birthday, silly. Of course it's for you!”
Shouto's frown deepens. “Wait, people have cake on their birthday?”
Bakugou glares at him. “Yes.” His tone is impatient, and he clearly wants him to eat the cake already. “It's called a birthday cake for a reason.”
“Go on,” Uraraka says, “try it!”
Izuku comes over with a fork and a knife. He hands them to Shouto apologetically. “I wanted to cut it for you,” he admits, “but Kacchan said I wasn't allowed to.”
Shouto makes a mental note to thank Bakugou later.
“Should we sing him happy birthday?” Uraraka asks.
Izuku nods. “On three!”
“One…”
“...Two…”
“Three!”
And then Shouto's ears are assaulted by an ensemble of dying geese. He's cutting the cake, and his hand wobbles as the unearthly screeching intensifies.
The worst part is, they're all in tune, but they're all singing in different keys. It's horrible to listen to. His hand starts shaking.
“Wow,” Izuku says when they finish. “You're not very good at cutting cakes!”
The cake is split in jagged, uneven lines. Shouto winces. He can still hear a faint ringing in his ears.
“Taste it!” Uraraka urges. Shouto exhales and picks up one of the forks to take a bite.
What’s so special about birthdays, anyway?
Izuku and Uraraka watch attentively as he puts the cake in his mouth. Bakugou's already grabbed a slice for himself and curses loudly at there not being enough chairs for them all at the table.
Shouto grimaces.
The cake is soggy and sweet. It's cold and has that lingering texture which says it's been in a fridge for a while.
He grimaces again. He doesn't like it - it’s disgusting - but when he looks up to see party hats, Uraraka already stuffing her face with cake, a party balloon that Izuku's halfway done blowing up, it makes him feel something.
The sweetness of the cake doesn't leave his tongue, even after he's swallowed it and downed some water, and he thinks maybe this is what birthdays are supposed to be like.
Eating cheap grocery store cake, sitting at a table as your friends sing ‘happy birthday' in different keys - this is what birthdays were always supposed to be like.
He hears a loud thud from behind him.
“Ah! Fuck!”
He turns around. Oh. Bakugou has dropped a chair onto his foot.
His lips quirk upwards into an almost-smile.
Maybe birthdays aren't so bad after all.