Title: Flour, or Flower?
Pairing: Bakugou/Uraraka
Summary: Bakugou's always the best cook, Uraraka's always looking to save money. Are store bought goodies really better than his Gordon Ramsay chef skills?
Notes: Check out my Wattpad/Tumblr account for other drabbles and fanfics at queen_random1!
No matter how much respect Bakugou had for the short, certainly not fragile, more like I'll kick your ass without any warning, stubborn brunette, she was like an airhead floating in space when it came to cooking.
Absolutely oblivious. It's like she used her quirk on her brain and it subconsciously floated into space, and her body hasn't realized she needed to mentally say release before noticing she was doing a shit job.
It all started when they'd gone to the supermarket to go shopping for food, and for some fucking reason, Uraraka's tastebuds were craving for anything chocolate-related. She always did, gods did it annoy him, but today was extra-apparent.
Fuck, he teased her by saying her name as Ocha-colate because she was practically named by something edible she loved other than mochi.
"Baku-babe, can we get these? I'm craving them so bad," Uraraka said, not bothering to wait to toss some cheap-ass chocolate chip cookies over her shoulder into the cart.
No way in hell.
Bakugou sneered, a disgusted trance on his face. "You're fucking with me, right round-face? Put that crap back."
She crossed her arms, not bothered by his tone at all. In fact, either completely oblivious or all in all ignoring it. "They're not bad, they're inexpensive. And I want chocolate, I've stuck to my healthy diet without cheating for five days now."
Bakugou scoffed and wondered how in the hell she could be proud of that. He made her start eating right around four months ago, and he always caught her eating a peanut butter cup or cup noodles behind his back.
"I should be impressed? Think again, those probably taste like shit and we're not getting any chocolate. Got it?"
He lowered his eyes as a spark glistened in her own, a finger gently tapping her lip. She was onto something, she always did that when some stupidly fucking idea popped into that brain of hers. "Not even ingredients to make cookies?"
His hands gripped the cart tighter. "No." As it were contaminated with food poisoning, Bakugo chucked the insulting thing back where it came from.
He started pushing the cart down the isle when he heard her voice.
"So I guess even if we got these cookies, they'd still taste better than what you'd make? I guess Katsuki Bakugou can't cook everything the best."
That damned pink-cheeked, always driving him fucking mad all the time, always challenging his ass, having an unbelievably sassy back-talking attitude bigger than himself and ego, thought that crusty-ass store bought cookies were better than his skill?
A store cart wasn't whipped around as fast as a getaway car on the highway until now, his hand grabbing her wrist tighter than handcuffs on a villain.
"I'll make the best goddamn cookies in this fucked-up world right now just to prove you wrong, so go find whatever chocolate chips you want to use and I'll get the rest."
Uraraka has a smug smile on her lips, standing on her top toes and snaking her free hand to the back of his neck, lowering him and gently kissed his cheek. "Okay," she laughed before spinning away, leaving him in another flustered, Baku-raging scene.
And now he got himself wrapped around her tiny finger, breaking her diet streak just for the sake of proving to her that store bought cookies were utter garbage compared to his.
"Pass me the fucking flour," Bakugou muttered, his eyes never leaving his hands at work.
He was already borderline about to go "KaBOOM", as she would call it, from her almost mixing in salt instead of sugar with the vanilla and eggs. The whisk more so sliced through the mixture rather than actually mixing it, but he didn't give one shit.
Bakugou scrunched his eyebrows when she giggled behind him, but still reached a hand to grab the next ingredient.
What he grabbed was definitely not a bag of flour.
"The fuck..?" He tore his eyes off the bowl, taking a glance as what exactly she'd put in his hand.
A moment of utter silence passed over, Bakugou barely believing his eyes right now. He glanced between Uraraka, who'd covered her mouth from sputtering laughs out loud, and the piece of nature he held between his fingers.
"Uraraka, what the actual shit?" He deadpanned, a wave of irritation flowing through him like fire. "What the fuck is this shit-I asked for your dumbass to pass me the flour-"
"I did pass the flower, I don't know what you're talking about," Uraraka cracked, letting out a snort while waving a hand in front of her face from the tears cornering her eyes in laughter.
In his hand was a short-stemmed, flourishing red rose, most likely from the base of red roses that occupied the small table near the window because her favorite color was red, and her favorite flower was a rose, not like there was any reason for him to know that. He's gotten them for her cause they were half off, and without a second thought her face popped in his mind.
"I didn't mean a literal shitwit, piece of Mother-fucking-Nature trash flower," Bakugou growled. "You're really an airhead if you don't know the difference between this," he gestured to the plant wedged in his hand, a couple thorns pricking his fingers, "and baking flour. So go get it."
She completely lost it.
Her sweet, joyful laughter mixed with what she'd say, unladylike snorts, rang throughout their apartment like morning chimes.
And at these priceless moments, never in his life would he admit that the joyous, infectious sound didn't annoy him all that much.
He continued his cooking project in hopes to prove her wrong, still bitter at himself for letting her have her way with him again. The waft of freshly baked cookies filled the apartment, and Uraraka's eyes were borderline glowing.
Bakugou crossed his arms with a confident smirk, awaiting for the approval that his cookies were goddamns better than anything she could buy in a store. She despised losing, loathed when he'd manage to come out on top on every single bet or fight they'd propose on a daily basis.
Bakugou 1, Airhead 0.
What he liked was that Uraraka bounced back harder than before, and he's not going to back down from serving another ass-beating and wipe the floor with her, right?
She closed the space and stood on her toes, barely kissing the sweet spot under his jaw that absolutely drove him wild. "Mmm, I guess you did prove me wrong," she hummed softly, her small hands resting gently atop his chest. "Katuski." Her soft lips grazed against his neck, feeling her smile.
Bakugou's face exploded crimson red, maybe borderline scarlet if he'd have the chance to look in the mirror. Probably comparing himself to any cookie that she would've burnt would been an understatement.
If she took L's like this to anyone else besides him, he was going to blow up everything in his sight.
"Uraraka, y-you still lost.." Bakugou growled, well, at least tried to, but his voice came out more soft like a mumble. His arms already snaked themselves around her small frame, shoving his flaming reddened face in her hair. "I'm still the fucking best and you better get that through your airborne head."
A soft and humbled laugh retorted back, shaking her head lightly. "I didn't expect anything less, too bad I broke my streak."
Or maybe he'd have to start baking more chocolatey sweets, having more of a reason to call her Ocha-colate.
He'd just make her double down on putting in extra reps during their workouts if this kept up.