“Would you stand still?”

Easier said than done. The scent of caramel wafted towards you, along with the lingering scent of various dishes and deserts that were already on their way out courtesy of the other more experienced waiters who were perfectly prepared to shoulder the burden that came with serving others. It was only you, and Bakugo, who were embarrassingly inexperienced.

Ever since he had been taken under Best Jeanist’s wing, he had to endure a good deal of things in order to fit the specific mold his sidekicks effortlessly catered. Strict, clean, polite, professional. That was what was expected of him, and he had to deliver, even if the very notion caused him to gag.

Bakugo’s hands gripped your collar, adjusting the upturned fabric until it lay flat around your neck in a finished coil, his fingertips slipping to your bowtie, begrudgingly fitting the thin sliver of fabric into a passable bow, tightening the edges until they fanned out gracefully.

“Can’t believe you don’t know how to do this crap..” He grumbled, releasing your collar as if he had touched filth. “Idiot.”