Bakugo yawned. It was stupidly early in the morning and he wasn't entirely sure why he was awake. It was mostly his intention to grab and quick breakfast and then probably go back to bed. It was weekend, so there were no classes and no reasons to be awake at the ass crack of dawn. He figured it would be too early for any of his classmates to be awake, but that thought was proven wrong very quickly.

Yaoyorozu was the only one in the kitchen. She was standing at the kitchen table, meticulously arranging the place settings around the table. The table itself was covered by an elaborately patterned tablecloth and the plates looked like fine china. There were fancy glasses beside all the plates and shiny silverware was carefully arranged them.

They didn't have fancy shit like that in dorm, so he imagined she used her quirk to create that stuff. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the table itself was also new. It was taller and a bit bigger than what usually occupied that space. He could see their normal table had been pushed aside to make room.

Ha stood in the doorway a moment to watch her as she fussed with the place settings, nudging things this way and moving glasses just so. She even made cloth napkins with her quirk and began to fold them into flower shapes.

"What the fuck?" He muttered to himself. His voice was probably louder than he'd thought it was, since it caused her to suddenly look up and over at him.

She blushed when she spotted him. Her hands fumbled for something to do, twisting the edges of her clothes and playing with her fingers as she dropped her gaze. "Ah... Good morning, Bakugo."

That shit really pissed him off. How she expected to be a hero with that meek as attitude was beyond him. He growled to himself as he stepped forward, annoyed with himself for caring. His voice came out harsher than intended when he spoke. "What's all this crap?"

Her blush deepened. She tucked her hair behind her ear, making him notice that her hair was down instead of in it's usual style. Her eyes were on the table as she answered. "I woke up early and thought that I would do something nice for everyone."

"This is supposed to be nice?" He asked. Sure, it looked fancy or whatever, but how as that suppose to be nice?

"No," She corrected, shaking her head. "I was going to make breakfast for everyone. I was trying to recall the things my father taught me to cook and I guess I got a little homesick."

Bakugo almost laughed in her face at such a blatant understatement. 'A little' homesick wasn't recreating what he heavily suspected to be a replica of her kitchen table. He walked up to the table and snatched one of the glasses off the table. She neither protested nor tried to stop him, only taking a few steps to the side to give him room. Her eyes held curiosity as she watched him inspect her work.

"Those ungrateful idiots would break this in a second," He told her. He looked over at her, pleased when she didn't drop her gaze again.

"I know," She answered with a small smile. "It doesn't matter though. I could make all of this stuff again in a matter of minutes if I wanted to." Her smile turned sad. "I could remake this stuff everyday and it would just be good practice with my quirk. What I can't make is the warm atmosphere that comes with sharing a good meal or genuine smiles that come from the heart. I can't make my memories." She closed her eyes and Bakugo felt the weight held in the heavy exhale that followed. "I'm sorry, Bakugo. You didn't ask about any of that."

"No, I didn't." He replied. He didn't have that sort of atmosphere at his house. He and his mom were always snapping at each other. She'd only taught him to cook so that she wouldn't have to wake up early and do it herself. He didn't have a bunch of warm, fuzzy memories of breakfast with his folks. (His coming in halfway through a mean and reading the paper while sitting at the same table didn't count.)

What he did have was five or six useless classmates that he kinda gave a damn about and a few hours of free time.

"You any good at cooking?" He asked her.

"Not the best," She replied modestly.

That answer made him grind his teeth a little, not the least of reasons being that he had no way to gauge how much of her response was modesty and how much was her actually lacking in skill. It annoyed him that he wanted to reassure someone who's skill he hadn't gauged for himself and he clamped down on the feeling as hard as he could.

"We have more than three classmates," He told her. He stomped over to the fridge and opened the door, scowling as he surveyed the available ingredients. "If I'm going to cook, you might as well make yourself useful setting up the stupid tables."

Bakugo pretended not to notice how her expression lit up.

"Really? You'll help me, Bakugo?"

"I came in here to cook anyway," He told her.

"Thank you."

Yaoyorozu didn't cut any corners as she created and set more tables for her classmates, including making a tablecloth and place setting for their original table. It was pretty impressive and Bakugo kind of enjoyed watching her as she bustled around. Bakugo refused to tell her anything of the sort, though.

There was still some time before he expected their classmates to wake up. He gentle tugged on her hair to get her attention. "Food's ready. Let's eat, Ponytail."

There was a ridiculous spread of food across the counters. He'd basically made everything that he could in the fridge in an effort to make enough for the entire class. He picked up one of her overly decorative plates and began to fill it with food.

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" She asked.

"Hell no!" He replied instantly. "Those greedy fuckers will eat every crumb in sight. We set this shit up, we should get first dibs." He grabbed her shoulder and guided her to the counter. "Now fill a plate and enjoy my cooking before I kill you," He ordered.

She laughed. "You're not as bad as you pretend to be, Bakugo."

"Tch. Whatever."

Bakugo had planned to make himself scarce before any of his other classmates showed up. He was already on his way back to his room, but before he could complete his retreat, she grabbed hold of his sleeve.

"What?"

She smiled at him. "This was nice. Would you be willing to do it again sometime?"

He should have shrugged her off. He should have told her to leave him alone and continued back to his room. It wasn't his damn responsibility to feed his classmates.

He remembered the sight of Yaoyorozu alone in the early morning, trying to recreate her parents kitchen, and he didn't want to deny her.

"I can't do this every damn day," He told her.

"Of course not," She agreed. "That would be unreasonable."

She was smiling at him, patiently waiting for his response and making him feel bad for being rude to her. He sighed. "Whatever. Fine."

"Great," She said. "Thank you again, Bakugo. I really appreciate it."

"Next time you have to help cook," He told her.

"It's a deal," She said. She left him to his own devices as she walked back toward the sink to wash their dishes.

He debated for a second before going to stand beside her. "I'll dry," He told her. "But everyone else has to clean up after themselves."

She smiled and accepted his help silently. Bakugo was glad that she didn't say anything and he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he enjoyed her company.