Chapter Text
Grumble.
Izuku scrunched up his nose as he reached for his grumbling stomach. He put down his brush and looked out of the window. It was a beatiful August day and while he was engrossed in one of his new paintings, Izuku had completely lost track of time, and therefore he hadn't been thinking about eating something at all.
Whenever Izuku was alone in his shared flat, he found himself forgetting to eat rather often, since he was so used to Shouto taking care of their meals and when they would be eating. He knew relying on his friend like that was probably not the smartest idea, considering he would most likely live alone after he was done with University, but Izuku had gotten pretty good at pushing things such as that in the very back of his mind. He refused to have that conversation with himself just yet.
Carefully setting aside his paint as well as his brushes, he trotted into his small kitchen, wondering if he could find any leftover food from the other day in his fridge, internally begging that he did not actually have to cook anything.
Cooking. Another thing, or skill, rather, that Izuku took the liberty of to completely avoid learning and pushed it to the back of his mind, because, yet again, Shouto took care of that.
Izuku and Shouto both agreed that they should switch up the chores every now and then, because no one deserves to clean the toilet for a lifetime. So, in spirit of fairness and sportsmanship, they decided to change up the routine every other week. Well, every chore but one: cooking.
No matter how often Shouto attempted to teach Izuku the littlest thing about cooking, it seemed that the freckled boy just didn't seem to grasp the gist of it. He wasn't stupid or anyhting like that, but when it came to the art of cuisine, he would develope a sudden clumsiness and carelessness that resulted in all kinds of trouble in the kitchen. He would cut vegetables in a very gauchely way and even severely cut his hands sometimes while doing so. The small faded scars on his fingers were all due to the awkward and unskillfull way he would cut any type of food, and by now Izuku could call himself lucky that he hadn't cut off a finger. He would overseason the food or underseason it, and neither Shouto nor Izuku or any other person who had been unlucky enough to taste his food ever stated that the green haired boy had seasoned a dish just right. On some occasions, he would burn the food, even.
To say Izuku was not a talented chef would be put it nicely.
To his dismay, there were no leftovers to be seen in his fridge, and the horror of what he had to do now was slowly settling in. He would just order takeout, but unfortunately, he had spent his entire leftover money from this month on brand new art supplies he needed for university, considering that the last week of August had begun and they had a fully stocked fridge with fresh food, he thought he could go wild this month.
Settling for toast was always an option, but quite frankly, Izuku was ready for a warm meal and just the thought of biting into a toast was unsatisfying. Although he contemplated the thought of just giving into the bland toast for a solid minute, he decided against it and quickly reached for all the ingredients he needed to prepare one of the only dishes he could somewhat master. On a good day.
Yakisoba.
Taking out various vegetables such as carrots, onions, cabbage and mushrooms as well as meat, he closed the fridge again, arranging all the ingredients on the kitchen counter. after washing them, a step he could pass without problems, he proceeded to cut them into small pieces. Looking sloppy at best, he decided to not fret over it too much and just cut the meat (just as sloppily) so he could start frying it. He heated some oil in his pan and when he put the meat in in for it to sizzle and cook properly, the whift he caught in his nose made him remember what he actually liked about cooking. Once he snapped out of his trance, he remembered that the way his mind drifted while cooking was one of the reasons he was such a terrible cook.
He decided to focus on the vegtables again, noticing that he had a significantly smaller amount of carrots on the counter, and he spontainously decided he could quickly just cut up another two while the meat was preparing.
Mistake Number One.
He tried to cut them as fast as possible, considering the sizzling meat in his pan just next to him, which let to him promptly cut a small wound into his finger. This, however, caght him off guard, which is why Izuku uncnciously did what he was notoriously known to do: pushing the thought of the meat frying into the furthest corner of his mind.
Mistake Number Two.
Pressing down on his bleeding wound, he hurredly went over to his bathroom to look for a bandaid. Unfortunately for him, Shouto just recently re-arranged the cabinets in their bathroom, so Izuku spent about solid ten minutes searching for a measily bandaid and another five to put it around his finger, mentally cursing himself for finding yet another thing that brought out the clumsy side in him.
Mistake Number Three. The final mistake.
Just as he wanted to finally retreat to the kitchen to continue cutting his vegetables, he caught the smell of something burning, and just like that it dawned on him again. Fuck, he thought, the meat. The image of his meat in the pan crossed his mind at the same time the incredibly infuriating sound of the firealarm set in, making Izuku flinch right where he was standing. Immeditely after, he rushed back into the kitchen, met with the sight of a small flame licking in the pan along with his now ruined meat. Hysterically, Izuku took a towel into his hands and started furiously pounding it onto the pan, desperately trying to put out the small fire before it could emerge into something bigger, and, fortunately, he finally succeeded afer a few attempts.
The alarm, however, did not stop blaring at a deafening volume. He was in the midst of pulling over a chair to turn the alarm off, when heard three agressive knocks - no, slams - on his door and the threatening and angry voice that followed could definitely compete with the high volume of the alarm.
"I will actually fucking murder you if the alarm isn't turned off within the next three seconds!" The voice boomed from behind his front door, sending shivers down his spine and making him stop his action in his tracks.
Izuku tried to think of who this guy could be that had gotten so angry with him, mentally going through a list of all the neighbours that lived on the same floor as him, but the only people that lived on this floor other than him and Shouto were a mother with her five year old, a kind old lady, and the singer next to his flat, who was just around his age. No one came to mind that fitted the voice or demeanor of this very angry and loud man. Maybe someone had moved into the free flat that had been unoccupied for a while now? No, that couldn't be, either him or Shotuo would have gotten notice of that in some way or another, so that was also-
"I said turn off the alarm! Some of us are trying to work, you bastard!" The angry man snapped him out of his thoughts, and he immediately returned to pushing the chair in the right position so he could reach the firealarm, and then hurried to the door to properly apologize to is neighbour. When he opened the door, he was greeted with flaring crimson eyes and a frightening scowl on the face of the boy who he recognised as the neighbour from next door. Surprise struck his face as he looked the blonde boy up and down, unfamiliar with such an angry look on his neighbour's face.
"You done fuckin' lookin' at me now? The hell was that alarm all about you shithead?" he barked, a little calmer now, and this time, Izuku could actually somewhat recognize the voice that he had heard from his room before.
Sometimes, when Izuku worked on his pieces in his room or before he went to sleep, he heard a guitar and a very soothing but rather deep voice from next to him, singing songs. He found himself drifting off in his thoughts multiple times, even when they were far from calm or soothing. He had considered knocking next door for some time now to compliment his neighbour on his voice and talent, but ultimately never really dared to, since the blonde - his last name was Bakugou, he knew that - never even bothered to talk to him before, not even so much as greet him, whether it was on casual occasion or when the two of them first moved in next to him. He brushed it off as him being shy, though, which, going by the way he was outright yelling at him, clearly wasn't the case.
Despite Izuku being displeased by the way his neighbour was talking to him, he decided to stay polite in return, "Ah, Mr. Bakugou, I'm very sorry we had to formally meet like this! It seems I have accidentally set fire to my food..." he explained politely, not daring to look into the other mans eyes. For a while, he didn't hear him say anything in return, and just as he wanted to use this awkward silence as a way to tell the guy how much he actually admires his musical talent (not the best way to tell him, considering the situation), Bakugou starts laughing frantically.
"No fucking way," he eventually said, peeking through the space between Izuku and the door, catching a glimpse of the pan still smoking on the stovetop. "Did you burn your food, you idiot? Shouto? Deku? Which one is you?"
Ah, he's reffering to the nameplate on the door.
"It's Izuku, actually. And would you mind not insulting me? I don't even know you," he replied, getting a little annoyed with the mannerisms of the guy. He could understand the swearing, but insulting him? Who did he think he was?
As if he was purposefully trying to one-up his bad manners, he continued with his string of insults. "Izuku? I think 'Deku' fits you much better. And no, I can't, now lemme see the burnt stuff."
"But it's read as Izuku- Hey! What gives you the right to waltz into my home?" the freckled boy complained as the blonde forcefully pushed him aside to enter his apartment, huffing as he walked into the kitchen.
"Wow, you're stupid as shit." He looked at the fiasco in the frying pan, snickering in a rather malicious way, then laughed as he pointed to his vegetables. "You cut this? That's pathetic."
"Hey! Don't insult my vegetables, you brute," he pouted, his politeness dwindling with every word that the other sneered at him, not feeling the need to offer him his kindness.
"Want me to show ya how to actually fuckin' cut a carrot, nerd?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer at all, simply taking the knife in his hands and getting to work. Before Izuku could protest in any way though, the blonde had already cut the entire carrot in such a short time that Izuku could only dream of achieving. Upon further inspection, his jaw dropped. He took one of the little carrot pieces into his hand and after that one another, comparing the two only to see that their size appeared to be identical, as all the others seemed to be as well. No, he thought, my eyes must be deceiving me. Like a nutcase, he kept comparing the pieces to one another, not finding any difference in width between any of the pieces.
Slowly, he turned his head towards Bakugou, a mistrusting and sceptical look on his face, "What kind of witchcraft is this?"
"The fuck? Can't help it if you're fuckin' untalented," he snarled at him, a victorious smirk on his face nonetheless.
Normally, Izuku would never act this way around strangers, he'd be polite, calm and would even do his best to not talk their ear off, considering his rambling habits. But considering that this brute barged into his home and kept insulting him out of nowhere, he pushed his morales aside. He dropped the carrots back onto the cutting board and lunged himself at the guy, grabbing his wrists and looking at him with mesmerized, green eyes, a wide smile playing on his lips. Bakugou looks startled for a second, then retreated to the scowl on his face he wore for most of the time he had been at Izuku's place.
"Hah?" he ripped his wrists away from Izukus hold, "The fuck are you touching me for?" Bakugou asked, looking severly displeased, and Izuku gives him a sheepish smile, an apologetic look in his eyes.
"Please teach me! I'm a terrible cook, and you were so skillfully cutting that carrot, you ought to be amazing at the rest too!" he said excitedly, silently cursing in his mind, feeling as if he showed too much kindness to a man who's only been rude to him thus far. Like usual, though, that thought gets pushed into the depths of his mind as he focussed on staring hopefully into the red eyes of the other.
Bakugou stayed silent for a little, as if giving the option of helping Izuku out some thought, and then grunted quietly. "Only 'cause it makes me sick to see good food treated like this. How do ya even live like that?"
Izukus eyes sparkle, completely disregarding the insult as he giddily pushes himself up and down on his toes, after swallowing his appreciation for the kind gesture he starts answering his question, "I don't live alone, I have a roommate. Todoroki Shouto. Didn't you just read the doorplate?" Bakugou narrowed his eyes at him, "Anyway, Shouto-kun is a really great cook! He cooks for the both of us all the time. I haven't suggested a dish that he hasn't been able to cook so far, he truly can make anything, and-"
"Do you ever shut the fuck up, nerd? I already feel for your roommate," he interrupted Izuku, earning a pout from the latter. "Sorry, I do that a lot."
"Fuck off, don't look at me like that. I don't care. Now let's do this shit so I can get to work again," he grumbled, but is yet again met with a gasp from Izuku, "You mean your music? I've heard you sing sometimes when I was in my room! You're really good at it, Mr. Bakugou!"
The blonde paused before he growling at Izuku again, "You evesdropping on me, stalker?" Bakugou raised an eyebrow at him, but in comparison to the other times the man had yelled at him so far, this time it had no bite to it, so Izuku just laughed it off. Though visibly displeased with that response, he focussed on the food again. "What kinda abomination was this supposed to be when it's done, huh? You got anymore meat?"
Izuku took another few pieces of meat out of the fridge, handing them to Bakugou, "Yakisoba."
Bakugou just grunted at that, starting to carefully cut the meat, seemingly slowing down a bit when he sees Izuku watching the way his hands move. Once he was done, he asked Izuku for a new pan, telling him to 'get that miserable stuff out of his sight', referring to the meat burnt to a crisp. Izuku had apparently completely forgotten how mad he had been at the blonde at first, his mind overtaken by the admiration he held for the way his neighbour was handling himself in the kitchen. There was a faint voice telling him he should hold him accountable for the way he spoke to him, but Izuku wanted so desperately to use this as an opportunity to learn, so he decided on giving him another chance.
What Bakugou was doing wouldn't traditionally be considered 'teaching' but Izuku would just try to mimic his movements the next time he would dare to cook, and he also didn't seem like the type to guide his hands for him to learn anything, so Izuku considered this to be fine.
As Bakugou carefully placed the meat into the pan, Izuku continued to watch him in awe. "Mr. Bakugou, you're so good at this!"
"'Course I am. And stop fuckin' calling me 'Mr. Bakugou', dipshit," he said as he took the liberty to eat one of the carefully cut carrot pieces he was just now preparing into his mouth, "Well, what's your first name, then? I feel like I should know considering how you barged into my place and are using my kitchen."
" Katschuki," he muffled, still chewing on the carrot. Izuku couldn't really decipher that, considering that he was talking with a full mouth (how rude!) and he could barely hear anything becase of the sizzling of the meat in the background.
"Kacchan? What a cute name." Izuku just took a lucky guess, assuming thats what he had said, earning an angry growl from the man beside him.
"Hah? It's not Kacchan, stupid Deku, it's Katsuki."
"Well, I like Kacchan more, and since you feel like calling me Deku, it's only fair."
"Whatever."
Izuku just smiled and continued watching Bakugou - Katsuki - do his magic. They didn't talk much after, except for the occasional order from Katsuki, like asking (more like demanding) him to boil water for the noodles or to get him spices to season the food. Something in Izuku died a little when Katsuki dumped a shitload of chili into the Yakisoba, but he didn't mention it any further, silently waiting until Katsuki carefully finished up the dish. With a monotone voice, he asked for a plate and put a hefty serving onto it, shoving it into Izukus hands with an unnecessary amount of force.
"You better fucking like this - who am I kidding, I know you will fucking like this. Even though you ruined it with your ugly ass vegetables."
Izuku did as he was told and took a small bite, careful of the amount of spice contained in the dish. His eyes widened, and despite it being so spicy it could've emerged from hell itself, the amount of flavour and taste it held seemed mezmerizing to him. The way his green eyes sparkled when he looked at Katsuki is a dead giveaway that he loved it and the smug grin Katsuki had on his face gave away that the blonde had expected nothing less.
"This is great! Wow, this is even better than Shoto-kun's Yakisoba. Want some?"
"Nah. I'm glad I can leave knowing you didn't set the alarm off another time, fuckin' nerd. I have stuff to do, better enjoy this fuckin food or I'll come and floor you," he threatened as he walked towards the door, Izuku following suit to bid him goodbye.
"It was nice to meet you! And thank you, you're not that bad after all."
"Fuck off," he said while his back was turned to him, wordlessly returning to his apartment.
Izuku hadn't even noticed that he had eaten up the food that fast, but when he was done, he quickly cleaned the kitchen (at least that he could do properly in the kitchen) and returned to his room.
Deeming it too dark for painting, he slumped into his bed, pulling out his phone.
Shoto-kun
Izuku: Guess what!!!
Shoto-kun: I'd rather not. What is it?
Izuku: Our neighbour is a great cook!! Little bit of an asshole, but a great cook. Y'know, the one who sings.
Shoto-kun: I won't further question that, I think.
Shoto-kun: Ah, please do not use the kitchen, Izuku-kun. There is food in the back of the fridge. I don't want you to burn the kitchen. Again.
Izuku stopped replying and he almost died when he saw the food when he crammed the fridge again.
He tried to make himself feel better by thinking about his neighbour, reasoning with himself that at least he got to meet his neighbour for once. Ah, Kacchans food was probably better anyway, he told himself. He thought back to his figure in front of the counter again and the way he looked at Izuku with those crimson eyes and that devilish smile. Huh, he thought as he reconsidered Katsuki's face in his mind again, processing the way his eyes pulled him in and how his blonde hair spiked out messily but cool in every way, how his features were very pleasing to the eye as well as his physique. Kacchan was handsome as well!
He hadn't really taken his appearance too much in considerration since he had been distracted by, one, his bigh mouth, and then by his skillfull handling of the food he prepared, but the more he thought about it, the more he found himself looking for an excuse to see him again. Maybe a thank you present? Chocolate? He remembered the chili chocolate he saw at the store recently, his nose scrunching up in dismay, bt considering the amount of chili Katsuki had put into the food, it seemed good enough.
His thoughts were interrupted by somthing he first mistook for his phone receiving a notification, but then recognised as the sounds of a guitar and later on muffled lyrics. Katsuki.
Despite it being only 9pm and the song not being remotely slow or calm, more fiery and hyper, he found himself dozing off to it.