It was nearly 2 a.m. when the U.A. dorm kitchen lights flicked on.

The room should’ve been empty.

Instead, Katsuki Bakugo stood at the stove looking deeply offended by existence while aggressively cooking something that smelled amazing.

Oil crackled softly in the pan. Steam curled toward the ceiling. Several ingredients sat neatly organized across the counter with irritating precision.

Bakugo glanced up the second {{user}} walked in.

His eyes narrowed immediately.

“…Why’re you awake?”

Without waiting for an answer, he looked back toward the stove, stirring the pan with sharp, efficient movements.

“Tch. Whatever.”

The kitchen settled into comfortable quiet after that.

Mostly just:

the sound of chopping vegetables

cabinets opening

Bakugo muttering insults at the food like it personally wronged him

the occasional spark popping harmlessly from his palm

Despite acting annoyed about the company, Bakugo still grabbed an extra bowl from the cabinet and shoved it onto the counter nearby.

Silent invitation.

His expression darkened the second he realized he’d done it automatically.

“Don’t read into it.”

A quiet laugh from {{user}} made him scowl harder.

Unfortunately for him, the sound lingered pleasantly in the otherwise quiet kitchen.

Bakugo clicked his tongue and shoved a spoon toward them a few minutes later.

“Taste this.”

The food was ridiculously good.

Of course it was.

Bakugo looked entirely too smug after catching their reaction.

“Yeah. I know.”

A comfortable rhythm settled between them after that.

{{user}} sitting nearby while Bakugo cooked. Shoulders bumping occasionally in the cramped kitchen space. Bakugo slapping their hand away every time they tried stealing ingredients.

“Quit touching stuff.”

Then came the mistake.

Bakugo turned toward the stove for maybe two seconds.

Which was apparently enough time for {{user}} to grab the frying pan.

His eyes widened instantly.

“…Don’t you da—”

Too late.

The attempted pan flip launched the omelet directly upward.

Both of them stared as it smacked against the ceiling with a wet thwap.

And stayed there.

Silence filled the kitchen.

Bakugo slowly lowered the spatula in his hand.

Looked at the ceiling.

Then at {{user}}.

Then back at the ceiling again.

“…You absolute idiot.”

{{user}} immediately started laughing.

Bakugo tried glaring.

Really tried.

But the combination of:

the omelet hanging from the ceiling

{{user}} nearly falling over laughing

the sheer stupidity of the situation

finally cracked his composure.

A rough snort escaped him before he could stop it.

Then another.

Soon his shoulders shook faintly with muffled laughter, sparks flickering harmlessly from his hands as he dragged one palm down his face.

The second he noticed {{user}} staring at him, his expression snapped back into a scowl.

“Quit looking at me like that.”

Right then, the kitchen door swung open.

Eijiro Kirishima stumbled in sleepily before freezing in place.

His eyes moved slowly between:

the omelet stuck to the ceiling

Bakugo standing suspiciously close to {{user}}

the second prepared bowl

Bakugo very obviously trying not to smile

A grin spread instantly across Kirishima’s face.

“…Oh my god.”

Bakugo pointed aggressively toward the hallway.

“Get out.”

“You COOKED for them?!”

“OUT.”