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Every Friday morning, there’s a white-haired guy who comes into Katsuki’s bakery and buys a whole tray of his Chicken Teriyaki Buckwheat Buns, and a cup of Iced Americano with two pumps of caramel.
He always asks for his order to be divided into three boxes, and always pays in cash, leaving a generous tip every time.
It’s been going on for who knows how long, and Katsuki has no idea where he takes those boxes of bread, or why he buys that much in the first place.
All he knows about him is that the guy thinks he can fool Katsuki into thinking his actual name is Dabi, and that he looks awfully familiar.
Katsuki hates getting up early.
When he started his bakery, Aizawa, his culinary mentor and main investor, suggested that he could open the bakery before noon, then close later in the evening to avoid having to wake up and start the day at ass o’clock in the morning.
But Katsuki also hates having to stay up late.
So his 4AM alarm is a begrudgingly welcomed sound every morning of the weekday.
Fortunately Katsuki doesn’t live far from the bakery, and the 10-minute walk is the best way for him to wake up. He thinks about which pastries to put on the Specials for today, wondering if he should bake a cake or two to include in the list.
Sato and Hitoshi are already waiting for Katsuki when he arrives, mind made up about what flavors he wants for the cakes, and he tells them about his plan as he opens the doors.
“Do you want me to work on them, or do you wanna take over this?” Sato asks, pulling his coat off as they head to the backroom to put their aprons on.
Katsuki glances at the calendar, then at the few rows of bread sitting on the shelves for reheating. They’ll have to make more than a couple of batches of bread, but Katsuki has a recipe he wants to try. He turns to Sato and nods, “Yeah, I’ll take care of the cakes. Make a batch of the teriyaki buns, then whichever else you feel like making.”
“Oh, is it teriyaki bread Friday?” Hitoshi smirks when Katsuki narrows his eyes at him.
“Teriyaki bread Friday?” Sato echoes. “What?”
“It’s nothing. ‘Toshi’s just bein’ a jerk.”
“Hmm.” Hitoshi rolls the sleeves of his sweater up nonchalantly as Katsuki glares at him. “Sato just doesn’t notice because he’s always in the back, but I have eyes, Katsuki,” he sing-songs as he leaves the room.
“Do I need to know?”
Katsuki takes a deep breath. It’s too goddamn early for this. “No,” he tells Sato. “Don’t worry about it.”
Thankfully, Sato just shrugs and finishes tying his apron. He leaves with his toque, and Katsuki lets his simmering temper cool down until he’s ready to work.
If he ends up punching his mentor’s husband, it won’t be Katsuki’s fault.
One of the selling points of Sugar Boom Bakery, aside from having the best quality of bread and pastries in town, is the change in menu every so often.
They have a few fixed sets of baked goods, of course. Katsuki’s not a masochist. But when he was creating his menu, he figured there needed to be something unique that sets his bakery apart.
Hence the regular menu changes. Hitoshi was skeptical at first if they’d be able to pull it off, concerned that it might be too rough on the two bakers, and that changing the menu might not be so appealing to a busy district where consistency is a routine for most. But both Katsuki and Sato are confident in their skills, thank you very much.
Aizawa had no doubts in them either, but it also wasn’t easy coming up with something new every other week. Katsuki had to ask his friends to come help with taste-testing, and to no one’s surprise they were all willing to eat free food.
Katsuki took note of their favorites, as well as what most of his regulars liked, adding it to the rotation. It’s a fun mix and match, with Katsuki and Sato throwing new recipes into the loop. Even Hitoshi has started experimenting with new drinks, recently learning how to make fruit teas for whatever’s in season.
Business is good, and everyone is happy. At the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.
Plus the fact that Katsuki owns the best fucking bakery in town. No one can take that away from him.
Dabi comes in a little later than usual.
The bakery is busy during early mornings and late afternoons, people bustling in trying to get something to fill their stomachs with before they start the day, or some dessert to bring home after a long day of work.
Katsuki is on his lunch break when Hitoshi peeks inside the break room and whisper-yells, “He’s here!”
Katsuki doesn’t rush to finish his food, no. Why would he? Dabi is just a customer who comes in every week to buy his bread like most people do. It’s not like he has anything special about him that would set him off from everyone else.
The white hair and blue eyes? Asking for attention. What is he, a Yu-Gi-Oh card? The little red highlights he sometimes has in streaks on his hair is childish and lame. Dye your hair as a whole or don’t do it at all.
And the tattoo on his right arm? Absolutely does not pique Katsuki’s interest. He has his own, and much cooler. He is definitely not enticed when the blue-inked flame that runs down his forearm, just licking the line where his wrist and palm meet, shows whenever he reaches to give Katsuki the payment for his order.
It doesn’t make him wonder what other tattoos Dabi might have.
Katsuki pounds at his chest, almost choking on his last spoon of rice. He can’t chew fast enough. He downs his water and hopes for the best, already wrapping up his bento. He haphazardly puts his back into his bag, and recomposes himself before going out.
“This fucking sucks,” he tells himself. What the fuck am I doing?
Katsuki sees him as soon as he leaves the breakroom, already at the counter with Hitoshi taking his coffee order. He tries not to stare, but the black turtleneck on him hugs his figure just right, and the nagging thought in the back of Katsuki’s mind that he knows him from somewhere returns, but he can’t quite place it.
He pretends he doesn’t see him as he nears the counter, pretending to wipe the already clean surface where the coffee machines are, craning his neck to look into the room where Satou places the last batches of bread into the oven.
“—And one tray of Chicken Teriyaki Buckwheat Buns,” Katsuki hears Dabi say. Hitoshi spares him a quick glance, before punching in the order.
“So the usual,” Hitoshi says. “You like them a lot, huh?”
Katsuki can’t help but turn to him, waiting for the answer. It should be a given, he orders so much every time. But his pride rides on this, and when Dabi tilts his head to look straight at Katsuki, a small smile playing on the edge of his lips, he doesn’t break his gaze.
“Yeah, I like it,” Dabi finally answers, and Katsuki has to swallow his heart back before it threatens to spill out.
“Good,” Katsuki says roughly, hoping his cheeks don’t look as red as he thinks they are. “We ain’t the best bakery in town for nothing.”
Dabi hums, still smiling, and slides the cash towards Hitoshi before he can tell him his total. The long sleeves of the turtleneck cover his tattoo, but Katsuki still manages to get a glimpse of the flames over his wrist.
“Should we split it into three boxes again?” Hitoshi asks, not even bothering to give Dabi his change anymore. He never takes it.
“Just two this time.”
While Hitoshi prepares his drink, Katsuki takes the boxes out and starts taking buns from the fresh batch that Satou made to put into them. Six on one, and six on the other. He ties it securely with an orange ribbon and tests it. When it doesn’t fall, Katsuki slides it across the counter where Dabi is waiting.
Katsuki wonders if he brings these home, if he shares them with anyone. He would have to, right?
Dabi meets him halfway, fingers brushing over Katsuki’s hand as he takes the boxes. The skin where they touched feels hot, almost like a burn. He could have very well grabbed the ribbon on top, and when Katsuki looks up at him he finds Dabi staring back.
Katsuki opens his mouth to speak before he can think about it, but Hitoshi, like the ass he is, hip checks him out of the way and hands Dabi his drink. Iced Americano with caramel, like always.
“Here’s your drink,” Hitoshi says, ignoring Katsuki’s deathly glare. “Enjoy.”
Dabi takes his coffee and his bread with an appreciative nod, then glances back at Katsuki. “I will.” He winks before turning to leave, Katsuki frozen where he stands as he tries to process how he feels about that.
He might have to punch a fucking wall.
Katsuki can’t take his mind off Dabi no matter what he does, and he’s put quite an effort on it.
The son of a bitch had Katsuki going to the gym on a Friday night just to try and distract himself from him, but even as he drained himself working out, all Katsuki could see when he closed his eyes was his face and that stupid smile and his stupid eyes and those stupid lips telling Katsuki he likes his bread.
It’s what he thinks about on his way home, and he’s all Katsuki can think about as he lies awake in bed, fingers twisting in his sheets, small gasps echoing in the otherwise silent bedroom, eyes closed tight as he imagines Dabi tasting him instead.
Katsuki can’t look Dabi in the eyes the next time he sees him.
It’s extra hard, because he’s felt Dabi’s gaze on him the moment Katsuki saw him walk into the bakery.
“Good morning, welcome to Sugar Boom. What would you like today?”
“I’m a little offended that you still have to ask me that,” Dabi says playfully, tilting his head in an attempt to look Katsuki in the eyes.
Katsuki wipes at a nonexistent stain on the counter. “Fuck if I know if you wanna order something else.”
Dabi hums, pretending to check the menu. “I’m pretty loyal, you know? If I like something,” he pauses, and Katsuki unconsciously glances at him, before quickly averting his eyes when he sees Dabi still staring at him. “I don’t even care about anything else.”
He’s lucky there’s no fucking line, Katsuki thinks. If it were any other guy, he might have pummeled him for stalling and wasting Katsuki’s time. The metaphor is so fucking stupid, but it’s Dabi, and unfortunately it affects Katsuki more than he’d want to admit.
“My bad, then,” he says, punching in Dabi’s order.
“Actually, you know what? I think I do wanna try something else.” Dabi rubs his chin in thought.
Katsuki raises an eyebrow at him, finger hovering over the register’s screen as he waits for Dabi to tell him what he’s gonna order.
This better not be another cheesy ass pick-up line.
“Is your number on the menu?”
I swear to fucking God.
It doesn’t matter if Katsuki is into him or not. If he thinks he’ll get his number that easily with just a couple of stupid one-liners. Well, then.
Two can play this game.
“Depends,” Katsuki says, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head back. The way Dabi follows the movement of his arms makes him preen a little. “How much are ya willing to pay for it?”
“I was thinking dinner and a movie, and maybe coffee somewhere you don’t have to make it?” Dabi offers, hopeful. God, Katsuki fucking hates how much he likes his face.
How does he fucking expect Katsuki to say no?
He poises himself, then finally punches in Dabi’s order to complete it wordlessly. He holds out his hand towards him, and as confused as Dabi seems, he still hands over the cash to Katsuki.
On his receipt, Katsuki writes his number. Dabi is wide eyed when he hands him the piece of paper, mouth forming into a grin when Katsuki looks away, cheeks warm.
“You better pick a good movie or I’m leaving your ass there,” Katsuki mutters, but there’s no sting in the threat.
Dabi chuckles. “Leave it to me,” he says, already punching in Katsuki’s number into his phone. “You ever heard of All Might?”
————————————
Later that night, when Katsuki comes over to Izuku and Shouto’s apartment to tell them that he’s going on a date, they’re elated. He thinks Izuku tears up a little, but when has he ever not cried over something, whether good or bad?
“So what’s his name?” Izuku asks, his chin on his palms and eyes sparkling as he waits for Katsuki to answer.
“Dabi,” Katsuki says, then thinks about it. Shouto perks up from where he’s cutting up the cake Katsuki brought over. “But when we texted earlier, he said his real name was—”
“Touya.” Shouto finishes the same time Katsuki says it.
“What the fuck.” Katsuki stares at him. “How’d you know?!”
Izuku looks between them nervously. “Kacchan. . .”
“Katsuki,” Shouto says slowly. “Don’t freak out. Touya is my older brother.”
Katsuki freezes, eyes slowly widening.
Memories of all those photos in Shouto’s family home come rushing back, all those times when Dabi— Touya picked Shouto up from school when they were in high school, that time when they slept over at the Todoroki estate and they saw Touya emerge from his bedroom, fresh from the bath, and walk into the kitchen to grab something to drink.
He thinks about all those times he’s felt like he knew Dabi, all those times that he’s had that sense of familiarity.
It’s because he actually fucking knew him.
“No. . .” Katsuki says, sinking back on his chair. “No, no, no, no—”
“But it’s fine, right?” Izuku asks, reaching for his hand.
“Yeah,” Shouto smiles widely. “We’ll be brothers-in-law.”
Katsuki yells so loud they have to stuff his mouth with cake.