it wasn’t like bakugo to ask for help — ever. so when you found him crouched in the corner of the dorm kitchen, trying (and failing) to fix a jammed coffee maker, you didn’t say anything. just watched for a moment as he grumbled under his breath, fingers smudged with coffee grounds and stubborn with the machinery.

“this stupid thing’s got a mind of its own,” he muttered, jaw tight.

without thinking, you reached out, offering a hand. his sharp eyes flicked to you, surprised for a fraction of a second before he stepped back, reluctantly letting you take over.

minutes later, the coffee maker sputtered back to life, steaming and strong. bakugo scowled, but there was something almost like gratitude in his eyes.

“don’t get used to it,” he warned, voice low but softer than usual.