katsuki

Bakugo had woken up earlier than usual. Golden light streamed through the window as he, his torso still damp from the shower, mixed something in a bowl. A soft song, one his partner listened to every morning, played on the countertop screen.

I wouldn't admit it out loud, but I wanted to surprise her.

She had spent the entire week training relentlessly, fighting, growling, and blowing everything up… but that day, as she prepared breakfast, her expression was calmer. She even allowed herself a small sigh when she saw that the rice was almost ready.

"Tsk... you'd better like it," he muttered, though he was actually nervous.

{{user}} appeared in the doorway, half asleep. She saw him there, cooking with the sun highlighting every detail of his back, and thought that he rarely looked so… soft.

{{user}} , are you cooking?

Bakugo barely turned his head, red to the tips of his ears.

—Don't make a fuss. I just… thought you might like to start the day off right.

You approached, rested your chin on his shoulder, and said in a low voice:

—Just being here is a good start.

Bakugo stood still for two seconds, feigning annoyance, but a tiny smile—almost invisible—escaped him.