Bakugou's P.O.V

"What the hell was that, Shoto?!" This man could've given us some type of warning before he tries to fry our faces off. The last thing we need is to die from my explosive sweat being activated by the intense heat accidentally being set off by this dumbass.

"Todoroki, dear, what the actual fuck was that?!" The hag questioned, as the old man stared quizzically at him.

Shoto glanced around at all of us and at the mess, including the burned floor under his feet. "Shit, I did it again, didn't I?" He proclaimed, lifting his foot off the ground, getting a better look at the charred flooring

"Again? Did what again?" The old man asked.

He stared sheepishly, "I don't have the best control over my fire side so any emotional or physical surprise can trigger it without thinking. I'm sorry, I'll replace the floor."

"Hey, it's no big deal," both the hag and the old man stated. The hag continued on, "I cannot begin to tell you how many times Katsuki blew something up and set off the smoke alarms when his quirk first appeared!" She began to laugh.

"Now's not the time to talk about that," I complained, turning to Shoto, "What the hell could've surprised you? It's not like you're not used to me picking fights with everyone!"

"I'd rather not talk about this anymore, can't we just go back to playing?" Oh no. He is not getting out of it that easily. I'm not goin' anywhere until he explains why he almost turned our home into a bonfire.

Folding my arms against my chest, I shot him a look of disapproval, "We're not doing anything until you tell us what the hell actually happened here." There is no way, bad control or not, that anything that happened in the past 10 minutes could trigger his stupid-ass quirk. He's hiding something and I want to know what the hell it is. What could be so terrible that he won't tell us? "What the hell was it?" I pushed, hoping for any kind of response.

This guy is mentally built like a fortress. He never cracked during the entire interrogation, not even when I threatened to hang him upside down from the roof of U.A. Fuck. "Just answer the damn fucking question, we're not gonna murder you even if it was as stupid as a sneeze triggering it," happened to me once in elementary, ended up with a slightly burned shoulder.

"Why do you want to know so badly? So you can have another thing to hold over my head on why you're so much better than me? No thanks," That thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Honestly, why do I care?

"I don't know, fuckwad," I threw my arms up in the air in a V-ish shape, irritated, "It's the principle of the matter I guess." I shot back, bringing my hands back down, crossing them over my chest again.

Something graced my shoulder, drawing my attention. The hag stepped up from behind, "Let's just resume game night, when he feels like it, he'll tell us. Okay?"

Shoto and the old man agreed with no second thought. Unwillingly I accepted the idea and we made our way back to the table. Bending down to pick up the cards that I knocked off the table, Shoto followed along, helping out - even though I never asked for it. "... I'm sorry…"

Not even bothering to look up at his beautiful face, I grumbled, "Shut the fuck up," and continued picking the rest of the cards off the floor.

The uno cards were tucked away and we settled for playing different games using the normal card decks.

We played a few rounds of Go Fucking Fish to calm down, before we got into the actual purpose of the deck, Slap Jack.

We all went in with a fourth of the deck and left with our hands covered in bandages and bruises. And for once a majority of the injuries were not my fault, okay most of the bruisies were, but I didn't even slam my hand down that hard! The hag caused the most of the injuries, the force of her hand nearly broke my wrist multiple times, and her sharp ass nails tore into all of our hands whenever she smacked her hand down quickly.

We taught Shoto Poker, using Goldfish Crackers as the playing chips; the old man taught him solitaire while the hag and I played the 2 player version; and we also played War, and a few other games.

All throughout the night the only things Shoto ever said were related to whatever we were playing. Every so often I would look at him in the hope that I could scare him into telling us why he tried to fucking kill us, it never worked.

During a revamp of war the silence over the subject was finally broken by the hag, unsurprisingly, "Todoroki, do you mind telling us now? We'll understand, especially if it's Katsuki's fault."

"Hey, why would it be my fault? I'm an upstanding citizen."

"Right, because you're such an angel," the sarcasm dripped off every word, but the only way to beat sarcasm, is to agree with the words.

I accepted her words and thanked her, "I actually am, thanks for noticing," and the old man once again had to hold her back.

He gave her his signature look which meant basically, 'Please, woman, not right now,' and she stopped her attempt at murdering me.

She straightened her clothes and sat back down, "Like I was saying, you can tell us."

We all turned our eyes to him as we waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.

He sat still, silent, barely meeting our eyes with his. Mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but never found the right fucking words. I grew a set and apologized, "Look, I'm fucking sorry for whatever I said, I probably didn't mean it."

Either that wasn't the right thing to say, or this wasn't actually my fault. He tensed up, arms pushed at his sides and his nose scrunched. His breathing was uneven and he lowered his head, glaring into the table. "Did you really not mean it?" Voice wavering.

I complained, "If it's that horrible, then yes. But I don't even remember what I fucking said."

He let out a deep sigh and finally looked up at me, "You called me pretty." I must be hallucinating, because he did not just say... that I said... what I thought he said.

No one spoke about anything for a few minutes, until the old man asked, "And?"

"The last person to say that to me was my mother, 11 years ago. It was a surprise. It's not everyday that Katsuki Bakugou calls you 'incomprehensibly pretty', guess I kind of panicked." He shrugged, sheepishly, maybe even a little embarrassed, letting all of our eyes.

"Okay, but we're not seeing the big deal," Mom said.

Confused, we turned our attention to them. I asked, plainly, "What the living hell does that mean?"

They clasped their hands together, gross, smiled at each other and then at us, before the hag asked cheerfully, "Aren't you two dating?"