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Two days ago, Katsuki Bakugo had been sitting on the edge of Izuku Midoriya’s bed, staring at a textbook.
Which was really freaking weird.
Not because of the studying—he studied all the time—but because of where he was studying. Izuku’s dorm room. Voluntarily. Not to yell at him. Not to fight him. Not because a teacher forced them into it.
They were just… there.
Studying. Hanging out. Existing in the same space without trying to kill each other. The kind of coexistence that would’ve been unthinkable a year ago.
The past few months had been like that. They'd made slow, begrudging progress toward something that maybe, maybe, counted as friendship. Katsuki wasn’t very sure himself—-didn’t have a frame of reference for this new version of them. All he knew was that he no longer felt the constant urge to slam Izuku into a locker, and they could stand to be within each others presence without tearing at each other's throats. Apparently that was supposed to mean something.
It felt wrong. Off-balance, like the world had reinvented itself, but not terrible exactly. He hated that part the most, probably.
Izuku’s room was exactly what he expected and still somehow worse: politely neat, shelves lined with notebooks in colored coordination, and, most abundantly, hero collectibles. Way too damn many of them. Carefully arranged, dust-free, and clearly well-maintained, like a tiny museum.
Izuku, for his part, was pacing. He always paced when he talked, something about training schedules, quirk applications, some half-formed idea for a costume upgrade, other nerd bullshit as his hands flew while his mouth tried to keep up with his brain. Katsuki half-listened, grunting every now and then so the idiot wouldn’t short-circuit from being ignored.
It was… tolerable. Ugh.
Then–
Then Katsuki stood up too fast, and his elbow clipped the shelf on the wall.
The Bronze Era, Prime Edition, Limited Legacy Run 4th Edition All Might figurine tipped, hesitated like it might save itself, then dropped.
It cracked, splintering through its carefully sculpted base as it clipped the desk on the way down, then exploding into red, white, and gold fragments across the dorm room floor.
Izuku stopped dead. Katsuki’s blood went cold.
Katsuki knew exactly what that figure was. Not just some shelf junk, or one of the dozens Izuku collected like a hoarder. That one was one of Izuku’s favorites— rare, limited, and probably stupidly expensive now. Katsuki remembered it too clearly. Izuku hauled it to show-and-tell every year from second through sixth grade, holding it up like a trophy.
My mom got it overseas for only 2,000 yen! he bragged. They sell it for like 150,000 now!
Katsuki had rolled his eyes every fucking time. Now it lay in pieces at his feet.
Izuku inhaled sharply, then stopped himself. His eyes flicked down to the shattered figure, and something hurt and sad in his expression flashed—just for a heartbeat—before he smoothed it over.
“It’s okay,” Izuku said quickly. Too quickly. “Really. It was an accident.”
He knelt down, trembling hands careful as he gathered the fragments one by one. His smile stayed on his face, stretched thin and fragile. “I shouldn’t have put it so close to the edge anyway.”
Each fragment made a dull, hollow sound as it hit the trash. One after the other.
Katsuki opened his mouth and closed it again. Izuku kept fucking smiling.
Katsuki had destroyed plenty of Izuku’s shit before. Many times. On purpose. Burned notebooks. Torn apart his lunch box, that one time. Wrecked pens and papers and supplies on purpose without losing a second of sleep.
But this was different. He was different. He respected Izuku’s belongings now. He hadn’t meant to do it. It was just an accident. He’d maybe, maybe, allowed himself to feel the tiniest bit guilty all those other times, but there was no reason to feel guilty for this. None. It hadn’t been intentional.
So why the hell couldn’t his leg stop bouncing?
It was free period, and Katsuki sat at his desk with his notebook open, pen moving across the page, eyes fixed on the words, and not understanding jack shit. The page might as well have been blank.
Every time he blinked, he saw it again. Red and gold fragments on the floor. Plastic split clean through. Izuku’s tight, fake smile.
Katsuki ground his teeth and bounced his leg harder.
He flipped the page with an intentional violence that almost tore the paper and tried to force his brain to focus. Chemical equations. Hero law. Blah. Anything that wasn’t the stupid, hollow thud of a rare All Might figurine hitting the trash. Didn’t work.
“Wow,” Mina Ashido said suddenly, leaning over from the desk beside him. “You look like you’re about to explode. And not in the fun, quirk-related way. C’monnnn,” she sing-songed. “It’s free period. Come hang out with us instead of sulking.”
“Shut the hell up,” he snapped without looking up.
Mina wasn’t deterred, as usual. She dragged a chair over and sat backwards in it, propping her chin on her arms.
“You’re not normally this broody. You’re like… two hundred percent over your usual levels. You look like you’re planning a homicide.”
“I am,” Katsuki muttered. “Yours.”
She laughed. The audacity.
“Spill Blasty! What happened? You need advice? Comfort? A homegirl with connections? I gotchu.”
“Stop talking.”
Mina, naturally, did not stop talking.
“Are you stressed because of school?” she tried. “Or some mysterious unresolved trauma? Ooo—romantic turmoil?”
His pen snapped clean in half. The sound was way too similar to a plastic figurine cracking.
“I swear to god— you are so fucking annoying!”
He tried to drown her out by opening his notebook, flipping pages aggressively as a subtle threat. It didn’t work.
Red and white plastic shards. 150,000 freaking yen. Izuku’s voice saying it was okay when it clearly wasn’t. The fragile, stupid thing they’d been carefully building between them.
“Spillllll,” she chirped.
Something in him finally snapped.
“OKAY, FINE,” Katsuki barked, slamming his book shut. “I just need a fucking job!”
Mina’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”
“I need money.”
“For…?” she prompted.
“It’s none of your damn business!”
She tipped her chair back and stared at him openly. “Well. It's my business now! Tell me!”
Katsuki began packing up his shit, threatening to leave.
“OKAY, OKAY forget it, sit back down,” she said placatingly. “But—you? A part-time job?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you let it slip once that you’ve never made it past a single day at any part-time job you’ve had?”
Katsuki's eye twitched.
“And,” Mina continued brightly, “is it because you either quit because you fight with the boss or get fired for yelling at customers?”
“Yeah, only because all of my bosses had huge sticks shoved up their damn asses!” Katsuki growled. “And I only yell at customers if they’re wrong.”
Mina hummed, unimpressed. “Uh-huh.”
“But this time’s different,” he snapped. “I’m not quitting. And I’m not getting fired. I need the money.”
Something in his voice must’ve tipped her off, because it looked like there was actually something resembling a thought forming in her eyes. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
“…Oh,” she said slowly. “My older cousin owns a restaurant. They’re always desperate for part-timers.”
Katsuki's head snapped up so fast his neck cracked. “WHAT? THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THAT IMMEDIATELY?! Tell her I’m in!”
Mina immediately held up a hand. “Absolutely not.”
“WHY THE HELL NOT?”
“I’m not recommending someone I know is gonna quit or get fired on the first day,” she said. “That’d embarrass me.”
“I WON’T,” Katsuki snapped. “You know me! I can cook. I can clean. I can bust my ass better than anyone there!”
Mina leaned back, a slow, evil grin spreading across her face.
“I dunno,” she said casually. “Turnover there’s high. The kitchen is super loud, and there's always a crowded lunch rush. Might be too hard for you.”
That did it.
“NOTHING’S TOO HARD FOR ME,” he snapped. “I can handle it! And I will not quit on the first day, damn it!”
He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “I need this.”
Mina went quiet. She watched him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then a deeply suspicious grin spread across her face.
“Well,” she said, already pulling out her phone, “only if you’re serious.”
“I AM!”
She sighed theatrically and started typing, texting her cousin. “Fine. But if you embarrass me—”
“I WONT!”
She sent the text. “My cousin’s name is Reina. Her place is called Pink Pepper. You’ll hate it”
“I WILL NOT!”
Mina checked her phone again, then scribbled an address onto the corner of his notebook and slid it over.
“Lucky you,” she said. “They’re super short-staffed right now. If you can get there by four, today’s your first shift. It’s like a twenty-minute walk from campus.”
Katsuki stared at the address. Today. He swallowed.
“…Thanks,” He muttered.
Mina froze.
“…Did you just thank me?”
“Shut up. Don’t you dare make it a thing.”
Izuku stood just outside the school gates, backpack hugged to his chest, pretending he wasn’t waiting. He absolutely was.
It had started happening naturally—Kacchan finishing up whatever he was doing, Izuku lingering under the excuse of checking messages or reorganizing his notes, and then the two of them walking back to the dorms together. Not together together. Just… side by side. Bickering. Arguing about training regimens and quirk theory and which hero studies class was objectively the most pointless.
Izuku had been enjoying it. Admittedly, a little too much.
He shifted his weight, breath fogging in the cold air, eyes flicking toward the school doors for the fifth time in a minute. Kacchan was usually impatient even when it came to leaving. Maybe he got caught up with Aizawa. Hopefully he hadn’t gotten in even more trouble than normal. Or maybe he was finishing up an assignment he started, Kacchan was one of those types who was loathe to leave anything unfinished, Or—
“Yo, Midoriya!"
Izuku startled so hard he nearly dropped his bag.
“A-Ashido!” he said, spinning around.
Mina Ashido trotted over, eyes immediately flicking to the empty space beside him. Her grin turned knowing in a way that made Izuku’s stomach twist.
“Waiting for Bakugo?” she asked.
Izuku’s face went hot instantly. “I—! I mean—well, kind of—we usually—”
She laughed. “Yeah, no, don’t wait up. He’s got somewhere to be.”
Izuku blinked. “Huh?”
“It’s his first day at his new part-time job,” Mina said casually, like this was normal information.
Izuku froze. Job?
Kacchan… hadn’t mentioned anything at all to him. Which was strange, because lately Kacchan had been generous with his thoughts. He’d rant to Izuku about what he was doing, or when he was annoyed, or who had pissed him off that hour. Something pathetic and disappointed hit him in the gut at being left out of this new development.
“Oh,” Izuku said slowly. “A job? I didn’t know about that.”
That certainly didn’t make sense. Kacchan’s parents were well off. Kacchan didn’t need a job. And he definitely didn’t like them. Izuku filed the information away immediately, brain already whirring. Why would he suddenly—
Mina’s eyes lit up.
“Oh! That reminds me!” she said, clapping her hands once. “Wanna go to a restaurant with me?”
Izuku short-circuited.
“A—A restaurant?” he squeaked.
Mina nodded eagerly. Izuku’s mind went blank. Then very, very loud. He felt his face heat up, pulse spiking.
Mina was popular. Confident. Very pretty. This was probably a normal thing people asked each other. Izuku had rehearsed this scenario exactly zero times.
“I—I’m really flattered,” he rushed out, bowing a little out of instinct. “But I think … it’d be better if we stayed friends—um— you see, but you have to understand, you’re really great! It’s not your fault, it’s just, I might already be interested in someone else–”
Mina’s grin sharpened. “Oh?”
Izuku swallowed. Abort. Abort. “I just—don’t want to lead you on! I just think it’s important to be honest—”
Mina burst out laughing.
“Midoriya,” Mina interrupted, absolutely vibrating. “Relax. I’m not asking you out.”
Izuku froze. “…You’re not?”
“Nope!” she chirped. “We’re going as friends.”
“Oh,” Izuku said with relief, brain rebooting.
“It’s only because, well, I want to surprise Bakugo at work,” Mina continued, eyes gleaming,
Izuku’s blood ran cold.
“Surprise him?” he echoed.
“Yep! He’s working at a restaurant not far from here.”
Izuku’s chest seized.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
Kacchan absolutely hated being surprised. Izuku could already picture it: Katsuki bristling like a live wire, teeth bared, absolutely furious. Showing up unannounced at his work sounded less like a visit and more like volunteering for an execution.
“I—Ashido, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Izuku said quickly. “Kacchan really hates being distracted when he’s trying to—”
Mina waved him off. “He’ll live.”
“No, I mean he’ll be really upset,” Izuku insisted. “Like, explosions upset.”
“That’s part of the fun,” Mina said cheerfully.
Izuku took a step back. “I-I should probably just go back to the dorms.”
Mina grabbed his sleeve.
“C’mon, Deku! Live a little! Don’t you wanna see Bakugo in his natural working habitat?”
The thought hit him like a betrayal. Kacchan, at a job. Wearing something formal or businessy probably, something that wasn’t his hero costume or a training uniform. Actually listening to instructions, biting his tongue instead of blowing up. Making an effort, a real effort, even while scowling through every second of it. It was kind of amazing. His heart twisted, equal parts dread and something warm he absolutely did not have time to unpack.
“I really think—”
“Surprise,” Mina repeated, dragging him forward. “Bakugo.”
Izuku let himself be pulled along, dread pooling in his stomach. I’m going to die, he thought faintly.
By the time they reached the restaurant, Izuku had been dragged so much he was pretty sure his arm was going to come out of its socket.
Mina hadn’t walked with him so much as towed him, humming cheerfully while Izuku stumbled alongside, brain screaming the whole way. Twenty minutes passed in a blur of cold air, frantic apologies he practiced in advance, and a growing sense of impending doom.
Then Mina stopped.
Izuku looked up.
And stared.
Then stared harder.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. He rubbed his eyes like that might fix whatever hallucination this was. Then he looked back up at the sign.
“Pink… Pepper…?” he read weakly.
Pastel exterior. Heart-shaped decals on the windows. Frilly curtains fluttering softly inside. A chalkboard sign out front, written in looping handwriting: Today’s Special: Love-Love Omurice!
Izuku felt his soul leave his body and politely excuse itself.
“Ashido,” Izuku said faintly, “is this… is this the restaurant Kacchan works at?”
Mina beamed. “Yup!”
Izuku’s face went scarlet. “This is a maid café!”
“Correct again!”
He immediately latched onto the nearest railing with both hands, knuckles white. “I—I can’t go in there. Kacchan would kill me. I’m not ordering anything. I’m not even sitting down.”
Mina laughed and grabbed his arm. “You’re being dramatic. Cmon I’m hungry! Let’s just get something to snack on”
“I am being serious,” Izuku protested, digging his heels in as she yanked. She was horrifyingly strong. His grip started slipping. “I cannot, absolutely will not order food or drinks. Let’s just leave. Quietly. While we are still alive.”
“Too late!”
She wrenched him free and shoved him through the door. The bell chimed.
Izuku stumbled inside, head bowed to the floor, and immediately started panicking.
Okay. Okay. Breathe, he told himself desperately. It’s fine. It’s fine. Kacchan probably isn’t even out here.
That made sense. Logically. Anyone with eyes and ears could tell Kacchan was not built for customer service. He was probably in the back, or something. Cooking, or cleaning, or fighting with the boss. Something reasonable! Yes, yes that would be fine!
“Welcome home, Master~!,”a pointedly female, non-Kacchan-like, voice said.
Relief flooded him as he stared at the shoes in front of him, his head still down, scared to look up. They were pink, dainty, sensible, and not Kacchan’s. He looked up, heart settling—
—and immediately lost all higher brain function.
Standing beside the maid who’d just greeted them was Kacchan. Frozen, tray in hand. In a maid uniform.
It was black and white, with a frilled apron tied snugly around his waist. Short sleeves stretched awkwardly over muscular arms that had no business being anywhere near ruffles. A pink ribbon sat at his collar, framing the sharp angles of him like a personal insult. And his hair. His spiky blond strands were tied into two small pigtails with pink elastic bands. The juxtaposition was downright disturbing.
Izuku’s brain blue-screened.
Katsuki’s eyes were wide. Izuku’s were wider. Mina made an unholy noise of pure delight.
Katsuki Bakugo had survived being kidnapped by the League of Villains.
This was worse.
His grip loosened with shock and the tray hit the floor with a violent crash, ceramic exploding across the tiles. Gasps rippled through the café. Someone whispered. Someone snickered.
And Katsuki stood there, frozen in the center of it all, wearing a frilly maid uniform with a pink bow at his throat and his hair tied into humiliating little pigtails that pulled at his scalp. Staring straight at Izuku Midoriya and Mina Ashido.
Izuku. At his job. What in the ever-loving fuck.
Ashido, sure. That tracked. But Izuku?
There was no universe where this wasn’t Ashido’s fault. That devious, unholy gremlin had absolutely orchestrated this. Katsuki would end her later.
His face burned so hot it felt like it might actually ignite. Not anger—no, this was worse. This was raw, crawling mortification. It lodged behind his eyes, made his bones feel like static.
Being seen like this by anyone would’ve been bad. Being seen like this by Izuku was unforgivable.
He opened his mouth to yell. Nothing came out.
The words jammed in his throat, stuck behind the sheer, overwhelming horror of being seen like this by him.
Mina, of course, was unphased.
“We’re here to eat!” she announced brightly, hands clasped behind her back, grin gleaming.
Izuku said nothing. The idiot wouldn’t even look up. He stood there stiff as a board, eyes glued to the floor, face pinker than Katsuki’s stupid collar ribbon, shoulders drawn in like he was trying to fold himself into nothing and disappear.
“Bakugo!”
One of the senior staff—the terrifyingly cheerful maid who’d been supervising him —stood there with her hands on her hips, smile fixed and merciless.
“You can’t just drop trays in front of guests,” she sharply said.
“I—tch—” He bit it back hard. “But they—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she cut in, sweetly now. “Clean it up later. For now, seat them.
Katsuki nodded stiffly, then jerked his head toward a table. “Sit,” he snapped, slamming menus onto the table and setting down two glasses of water with enough force to rattle them.
Mina bounced over like she was having the time of her life. Izuku followed a half-second later, still refusing to make eye contact, immediately grabbing the water glass and chugging it, like a distraction.
The other maid glided up to the table with practiced ease. “Welcome home, Masters~!”
Katsuki felt his soul attempt to leave his body.
She turned, pointed directly at him, smile sharpening. “Bakugo, go on.”
His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “…Welcome,” he forced out.
Her eyes narrowed. “With feeling, Bakugo!”
He inhaled slowly through his nose, stared directly at Mina—who was vibrating with glee—and then at Izuku, who looked seconds from passing out.
“…Welcome,” he repeated flatly.
“Bakugo.”
Katsuki snapped his head back toward his coworker.
“Mind your manners and speak clearly,” she said pleasantly. “Unless you want to get written up on your first day.”
His hands curled into fists at his sides. No. He wasn’t getting fired. He promised.
“…Welcome home,” he said through gritted teeth.
Then he looked Izuku dead in the eye, who was still gulping water like his life depended on it.
Katsuki’s glare was vicious. “You bastard.”
Izuku choked, hard.
He snorted, and water shot straight out of his nose in a humiliating arc—spraying the table, the menus, and Katsuki’s apron. Izuku coughed violently, ugly, loud noises mixed with frantic half-formed apologies that kept getting cut off by more coughing.
“I—! I’m so sorry—I didn’t—!” Izuku wheezed, hands clapped over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.
Katsuki stood there, soaked, mortified beyond human comprehension.
The senior maid sighed. “Bakugo!” she scolded. “Why would you say something like that? Look what you’ve done! Clean it up and apologize. Now.”
“I—crap—” He grabbed a cloth, face burning. “…Sorry,” he forced out without looking at Izuku.
As he wiped down the table, heart pounding, Izuku wouldn’t stop whispering frantic apologies, hands hovering uselessly in the air. Mina, meanwhile, was absolutely biting her tongue to keep from laughing.
Once Midoriya’s biological warfare incident had been cleaned up and Katsuki’s apron had swapped, no longer smelling like tap water and spit, the senior maid clapped her hands together sharply, smile snapping back into place like nothing traumatic had just occurred.
“Okay~! Everyone breathe!” she sang. “Just a reminder, since today is National Maid Day, whichever maid sells the most food and drinks by the end of the shift gets a cash bonus! So forgive Bakugo for the little mishap and do him a sweet favor, yeah~?”
Katsuki’s head whipped sideways. A bonus. Money. Actual, tangible, figure-replacement money.
His gaze flicked treacherously to Izuku.
Izuku’s head snapped up immediately. His eyes lit up like someone had just announced an emergency rescue opportunity.
Oh fuck.
“Now!” the senior maid continued cheerfully. “Today’s drink specials are the Blushing Bunny Latte and the Sweet-Sweet Senpai Strawberry Soda! For treats, we have the Maid’s Special Curry, Senpai-Notice-Me Napolitan, and—our most popular item—the Love-Love Omurice, served with a personalized ketchup message written by your maid!”
Something inside Katsuki cracked clean in half.
Mina leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Ooooh! I’ll take the Sweet-Sweet Senpai Strawberry Soda and the Maid’s Special Curry!”
“Excellent choices!” the maid chirped, then turned expectantly to Katsuki as he wrote down the order in his notepad. “Repeat the order.”
Katsuki stared at her. “What.”
“So the customers know you heard them.”
His jaw tightened. “…One,” he began slowly, each word dragged from his soul, “Sweet… Sweet… Senpai—”
Mina slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling.
“—Strawberry Soda,” he finished venomously, “and the… Maid’s ... Special Curry.”
“Much better!” the maid said, completely immune to his suffering. “And for you?” she added, gesturing at Izuku.
Before Izuku could open his mouth—
“He’s not ordering,” Mina cut in breezily. “He swore he wouldn’t just outside.”
Katsuki’s pen paused. He looked at Izuku, who finally met his eyes.
Something activated. Izuku straightened up like he’d just been called to duty.
“I’ll have the Heart-Throb Master Mocha!” he said quickly, “the Blushing Bunny Latte, Shy Kitten Vanilla Milk, and the Love-Love Omurice—and oh!” He paused, looking down at the menu for a moment. “And the Maid’s Special Curry, the Blushing Bride Cheesecake, Heart-Stealer Hamburg Steak, the Secret Crush Rose Lemonade the Doki-Doki Double Chocolate Shake—”
Katsuki jolted, suddenly remembering he had a job to do. He scribbled furiously, hands scrambling with his pen and notepad, barely keeping up.
“Tch—Damn it, slow down—!”
Mina gawked. “Midoriya?? What happened to not ordering?”
Izuku flushed red but didn’t retreat. “W-well! If Kacchan is making an effort, then I should too!”
Katsuki froze mid-scribble.
“…Hah?!”
“It’s important to support people when they’re trying their best!” Izuku said earnestly, fists clenched in his lap. He looked straight at Katsuki. Actually looked at him. “And it’s your first day, so—so I have to do my part!”
Irritation flared hot and automatic. Of fucking course.
Of course Izuku would turn this into some heroic campaign. Always got to be the damn hero, even when nobody fucking asked.
He clicked his tongue sharply, tore off the order slip, and stalked away before his face could get any hotter.
The food came out in rounds. Too many rounds.
Katsuki delivered drink after drink, plate after plate, jaw tight every time he set something down. The food was… fine. Overpriced. Overdecorated. Cute bullshit designed to guilt people into eating more.
And Izuku ate all of it.
He smiled through mouthfuls of overly sweet curry. Thanked Katsuki—thanked him—every time he set something down. Made these ridiculous little noises of appreciation even when Katsuki could tell he was forcing it, cheeks flushed from sugar overload and embarrassment.
He was trying. Really trying.
Katsuki paused near the counter, arms crossed, watching him shovel down another bite of parfait like it was a life-or-death challenge.
“…You’re an idiot,” Katsuki muttered, under his breath as he passed by.
Later—much later—he was forced to write the personalized ketchup message for the omurice, the senior maid looming over him like a parole officer.
“No threats,” she warned. “No profanity. No intimidation.”
“Sure.”
He squeezed the bottle hard, red ketchup splattering onto the omelet as he scrawled furiously, handwriting sharp and aggressive despite the content.
When he slammed the plate down, the message read:
Hope you have a WONDERFUL day with ZERO REGRETS and with NO UNEXPECTED CONSEQUENCES. Thank you for your support. IT WON’T BE FORGOTTEN.
Izuku looked up, and beamed. Thanked him, again. Didn’t register a single hidden threat.
Katsuki turned away fast, exhaling hard through his nose.
Damn it. The irritation fizzled away. Burned out somewhere between the ninth drink and the twenty-fifth thank-you.
Idiot or not—Izuku was doing this for him. Making a complete fool of himself. Eating enough sugar to kill a normal human. Supporting him, like this crap somehow mattered.
Katsuki scowled at the counter, still watching him, chest suddenly warm. Something soft and dangerous and deeply unwelcome swelled inside him. He hated it.
Stupid Deku.
Izuku Midoriya was going to explode. Not emotionally, though. Physically.
He sat very still at the table, stomach stretched to its absolute limit. Sugar throbbed behind his eyes in a dull, persistent ache. His tongue felt numb. He was ninety percent parfait and regret.
Worth it, though. Completely, absolutely worth it.
Izuku glanced up just in time to see Kacchan pass by the table, apron tied crookedly at his waist, expression sharp and exhausted but… lighter. Just a little. Not happy, exactly. But less furious than earlier, less wound up. It was barely discernable unless you personally knew Kacchan well.
Izuku smiled to himself, small and secret.
He’d helped, he thought. Even if might never want to see another strawberry again for the rest of his life.
Eventually, the ordeal wound down. Plates cleared and drinks finished.
“Thank you for dining with us!” the senior maid sang. “We hope you enjoyed your time! Before you go, would you like a commemorative photo?”
“Oh! Um—” Izuku hesitated, then remembered something important. “Wait, shouldn’t we pay first?”
Katsuki stiffened. “…It’s on the house,” he muttered.
Izuku froze. “Huh?”
“Don’t make people repeat themselves! I said it’s on the house!” Kacchan repeated, louder, then quickly added, “I’m paying.”
The words hit Izuku all at once. Then suddenly, guilt sunk straight into his already-overworked stomach.
Izuku shook his head immediately. “No, you don’t have to do that! Kacchan, I can pay, really—”
He fumbled in his pocket, already pulling out cash.
Katsuki slapped his hand away. “Hell no!”
“Kacchan—!”
“I said don’t,” he snapped, shoving the bills back into Izuku’s chest.
Izuku stared at him, eyes wide, then stubbornly tried again. “A-at least let me leave a tip!”
Katsuki leaned in, voice low and furious. “You tip, I will explode this entire building and everyone in it.”
Mina snorted loudly. Izuku deflated instantly, shoulders drooping. “…Okay.”
The guilt sank heavier now, thick and sour, making itself at home just beneath the sugar headache and the too-full ache in his stomach. He’d just wanted to help, to support Katsuki the only way he knew how. But clearly he screwed it up, turned his first day into some expensive, humiliating spectacle.
Before he could spiral any further, the senior maid clapped sharply.
“Photo time~!”
Izuku barely had a second to process that before they were ushered—no, herded—toward a backdrop so aggressively cute it bordered on hostile. Pink curtains, plastic hearts, and cardboard maid cutouts smiling with soulless joy.
Katsuki stopped dead in the center, wedged between Izuku and Mina, shoulders locked, spine ramrod straight, expression carved from pure horror.
Mina’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh, perfect!” she chirped, already reaching out. She grabbed Kacchan’s wrists before he could react and forced them together. “Heart hands!”
“I will kill you,” Katsuki hissed, teeth barely parting.
“Smile!” the senior maid sang, lifting the camera. “Three, two—”
Izuku’s stomach dropped. His face was already burning. He didn’t know where to look, what to do with his hands, how to exist inside his own body anymore—
Then, Mina suddenly, “accidentally” slipped. She grabbed Izuku’s arm from behind Katsuki's back like she was searching for balance, fingers digging in just enough to yank him sideways.
“—One!”
Izuku stumbled sideways, straight into Kacchan.
Katsuki reacted on instinct. One arm snapped around Izuku’s shoulders, hauling him upright before he could fall. Izuku barely registered the movement before he was pressed flush against his chest, overwhelming and way too close. Izuku made a small, startled sound.
Izuku froze. His face went nuclear, heat rushing up his neck, ears ringing as he became painfully aware of everything at once—Katsuki’s grip, his heartbeat, the sharp inhale Katsuki sucked in like he’d just realized what he’d done.
The flash went off.
The Polaroid whirred, slow and merciless, spitting the photo out like a life sentence being passed.
Izuku stared in mounting horror as the image developed: himself red-faced and flustered, cradled far too close, Katsuki scowling—arm locked around Izuku, hands somehow still making an immaculate heart.
Mina was conveniently, nowhere to be seen.
“Oh my god,” Mina crowed, clapping her hands with unholy delight. “It’s PERFECT. FRAME THAT!”
The bell chimed as Izuku and Mina stepped back out into the cold evening air, the chaos of the café sealing itself behind them.
“I gotta—uh—straighten the sign,” Katsuki muttered to the senior maid, already pivoting to follow them outside.
They made it exactly three steps down the sidewalk before the glass door slid shut behind them. The instant they were out of earshot—
“I AM GOING TO MAKE YOU REGRET THIS FOR THE REST OF YOUR PATHETIC LIVES!”
Izuku jumped so hard his shoulders nearly hit his ears.
Mina, on the other hand, didn’t even blink. “What? Why? I helped you!”
“You said this was a restaurant!” Katsuki snapped, whirling on her.
“It is a restaurant,” Mina shot back. “A themed one. What, you don’t like maids? You look adorable!”
“I will kill you.”
She leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “You already threatened that inside. I’m starting to think it’s not serious.”
“SHUT UP!”
“Hey, real talk,” Mina added, lowering her voice theatrically. “You’re not gonna get fired, right?”
Katsuki answered instantly, like he’d been waiting for the question. “HELL NO! Like I’d lose my job over this crap. I said I wouldn’t quit, and I won’t!”
Mina grinned. “Wow. Look at you. All responsible.”
“DON’T PUSH IT!”
They bickered for another minute—Mina poking, Katsuki snapping, the steam from his breath puffing angrily into the air—until Katsuki finally threw his hands up and jabbed a thumb toward the street.
“NOW GET LOST! BOTH OF YOU!”
Mina laughed and reached back to grab Izuku’s wrist. “C’mon, Midoriya—”
Izuku didn’t move.
“I… I want to stay,” he said quietly. The words surprised even him.
Mina blinked. Katsuki stiffened.
Izuku’s fingers curled into his coat sleeve as that tight, restless feeling in his chest twisted again. He couldn’t quite name it—just the sense that something was still unfinished. That Katsuki had gone through all of that, and Izuku hadn’t actually helped.
Katsuki hadn’t been… saved yet today. It felt wrong to just leave.
Mina’s expression shifted softer. “Aww,” she said, gently.
Then she leaned in and, before Izuku could react, slipped something into his coat pocket— the terrible Polaroid picture from earlier.
“Keep him company,” she whispered, winking. Then, louder, already backing away: “Don’t wait up!”
And then she was gone, boots tapping cheerfully down the sidewalk as she waved over her shoulder.
The cold silence rushed in to fill the space she left behind.
Izuku stood there, hands fidgeting, heart still racing. Katsuki stared straight ahead, arms crossed tight, jaw set, breath fogging the air.
“I’m… really, really sorry,” Izuku said finally. “For—um—for bothering you at work.”
Katsuki snapped immediately. “Yeah, you better be, you damn idiot! Don’t ever pull that crap again!”
He shivered, scowl deepening. “Shit. It’s freezing.”
A beat passed.
“…How late are you working?” Izuku asked.
Katsuki shot him a look. “Ten. Why.”
Izuku swallowed. The words came out before he could overthink them. “Okay. I’ll just hang around until your shift’s over, and then we can walk home together!”
Katsuki spun on him. “HELL NO!”
“But it’s dangerous walking home alone that late!” Izuku blurted, brows knitting together. He didn’t like the idea of Katsuki walking home all alone after work, cold and tired and humiliated.
“It wasn’t that long ago that you were kidnapped by the League! You shouldn’t be out wandering —”
“DON’T!” Katsuki snapped, chest puffing. “I don’t need your damn protection! Just– listen, I’ve learned my lesson since then, so I know how to handle myself now, okay?!”
Izukus shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him all at once. Of course Kacchan wouldn’t want that. All day, every attempt Izuku had made to help had just overshot. Made things worse.
“Okay,” Izuku said softly. “I’m sorry. Goodbye, Kacchan.”
For a moment, Katsuki didn’t say anything. Then, quieter—almost kind—“…See you later.”
Izuku looked up, startled.
But Katsuki was already turning back toward the café, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold.
By the time Katsuki finally reached the last hour of his shift, his limbs were screaming. He was exhausted. Beyond exhausted.
His calves were on fire from speed-walking in stupid little maid shoes. His shoulders ached from hauling tray after tray because apparently no one in this place understood the concept of “carry it in one trip or don’t carry it at all.” His throat was raw from forcing out customer-service lines through clenched teeth.
Most of all, it was the humiliation that completely laid him out. Every time he caught his reflection in a window, he’d scowled with disgust.
He ripped the apron off like it had personally insulted him, snapping the ties loose and shaking the frills out with unnecessary aggression. He peeled the ribbons from his hair, shoving them into his locker. He changed fast, jaw tight, his uniform crumpled up like trash before tossing it aside.
Just as he slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped toward the exit, a soft voice stopped him.
“Bakugo?”
He turned, and there was Reina, Mina’s cousin, the one who actually ran this hellhole of a café, standing in front of him smiling warmly.
“I just wanted to thank you,” she said. “You did amazing today.”
Katsuki blinked. What the hell?
She continued, completely serious. “You were efficient, you handled the rush better than some of my regulars, and the customers loved your ‘tsundere maid’ thing. We got three separate compliments about you.”
Her tone was calm, kind, and patient—so unlike Mina, that insufferable little terror who’d been dragging him through this ordeal all day. “It’s not an easy job. I know it can be embarrassing. Most people don’t last a full shift, so… it’s completely understandable if you want to quit after today.”
Embarrassing. Yeah. That was one word for it. But Reina wasn’t mocking him. There was no smirk, no trap waiting in the next sentence, like Mina would have done. Just quiet acknowledgment. Like she’d actually seen how hard he’d worked. Like the trays and the fake smiles and the forced catchphrases had actually meant something to her.
Huh. Maybe this job wasn’t complete garbage. The thought didn’t make him want to explode on instinct, anymore. Fucking weird.
Reina reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a wad of cash that looked alarming in its thickness. She held it out toward him.
“This is the bonus for selling the most food and drinks today,” Reina said, holding it out. “You have your friend Midoriya to thank for that.”
“And this,” she continued, slipping another thick folded stack on top, “is his tip. A few minutes after he left, he snuck in through the back and insisted I give this to you since you refused him. It’s… very generous of him. He even sneaked a portion to some of the other staff before he left. You’re very lucky to have him.”
Katsuki’s pulse kicked up, sharp and uneven.
That stupid nerd. Even after Katsuki had told him not to, after he’d snapped at him, after humiliating himself in that damn café. Izuku just… did it anyway. For him.
His fingers twitched before he grabbed the money, grip tighter than necessary.
Izuku was stupid. Overbearing. Infuriating. Something warm and fond bloomed in his chest, anyway, entirely unwelcome. Damn annoying. His lips twitched in what was almost an involuntary grin. He hoped Reina didn’t see.
“See ya tomorrow,” he called, before turning to leave.The door shut behind him with a soft chime.
The cold hit like a punch.
Katsuki sucked in a sharp breath, shoulders tensing as the night air cut straight through his jacket, through whatever adrenaline had been holding him upright for the last six hours. His breath fogged instantly, and he shivered violently.
“Ugh, fuck,” he muttered.
Katsuki stepped out onto the sidewalk, and without thinking, his eyes flicked left, right, searching for a mop of green hair. Where was that idiot anyway? He wanted to go home already—wanted to get this stupid day over with—and if Izuku was going to insist on walking him back, he could at least be on time—
Wait.
What the fuck was he doing?
Fucking Idiot. Of course Izuku wasn’t here. He’d told him to go home. Practically shoved him off the sidewalk when all he’d been trying to do was help. Why the hell would he be standing out here freezing his ass off for him?
The silence felt louder without that constant muttering presence at his side. No nervous rambling. No worried glances. No stupid freckles and stupid brow scrunching up with concern.
Katsuki clicked his tongue sharply. Good. That’s what he wanted.
So why did something in his stupid chest sink anyway?
Okay. I’ll hang around here until your shift is over, then we can walk home together!
Katsuki clicked his tongue, irritation curling into something sharper and uncomfortably close to disappointment. He roughly shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to leave.
“Kacchan!”
Katsuki spun so fast his bag swung off his shoulder.
Izuku came barreling out of nowhere, skidding to a stop right in front of him. He was bent over, hands on his knees, chest heaving, hair a mess, cheeks red from the cold and from running.
In his hand was the stupid, mortifying, cursed Polaroid photo from earlier.
Katsuki stared, dumbstruck. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
Izuku sucked in a breath. “I—I thought— I mean— I couldn’t just—!” He straightened abruptly, words tripping over each other. “I can’t let you walk home by yourself at this hour!”
Katsuki’s brain stalled. “But—I thought you went home!”
“I did!” Izuku rushed. “And then I—uh—changed my mind.” He let out a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, then awkwardly held up the Polaroid like proof of something. “I found this! And then I thought— well— anyway— c’mon, let’s go—!”
Izuku stuck his hand out automatically, as if them holding hands was the most natural thing in the world before realization crashed over his face. His hand hovered uselessly between them before he yanked it back quickly, flustered.
“Oh, wow! it’s cold out!”
Katsuki stared at him, a mix of fond emotions swirling in his chest he couldn’t quite believe himself.
Katsuki swallowed.
Weird. Izuku was so damn weird. He’d done more than enough for Katsuki today, and it seems like the nerd still wasn’t satisfied. Katsuki was pretty sure Izuku would do anything if Katsuki asked. Probably do it even if he didn’t.
And yeah. Maybe Katsuki was weird himself, too. He’d put on a maid outfit for that stupid All Might figurine, for fucks sake. And also, for what he was about to do.
His feet moved before he could change his mind. He walked by Izuku, then—without thinking about it too hard, he grabbed Izuku’s hand, interlinking their fingers.
Izuku’s hands were rough and real and warm. The heat shot up Katsuki’s arm like a spark catching gun powder. He had to fight the urge to shiver.
Both of them stopped dead.
Izuku made a quiet, startled sound, turning his head. “Um...Kacchan?”
Katsuki refused to look at him. His heart was beating way too fast. His ears burned. It was too damn late to take it back now.
“...Ain’t so cold now, huh,” he muttered.
There was a pause.
“…N-no,” Izuku answered, soft, honest.
Katsuki squeezed his hand harder than necessary. “Tell anybody about this and you’re dead.”
Izuku laughed, that gentle, breathless, stupid sound.
Two Weeks Later
Katsuki roughly shoved the bag into Izuku’s hands.
“Take this and die!” Katsuki snapped.
Izuku barely caught it in time. “Huh—? Kacchan, what—”
“Just open it, damn it.”
Izuku fumbled with the handles and peeled back the tissue paper. Inside, nestled was the figurine.
The figurine.
The Bronze Era, Prime Edition, Limited Legacy Run 4th Edition All Might Figurine. Perfect, new, replaced.
“Kacchan…” His voice came out smaller than he meant it to. “You—this is—”
Katsuki had already crossed his arms, posture stiff, gaze fixed somewhere aggressively to the left of Izuku’s face. “Don’t make it weird.”
Izuku let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, then stopped. His eyes widened slowly.
“Wait a minute,” he said, looking up at him. “Is that why you worked at that café!?”
Silence. Katsuki’s jaw flexed. He didn’t deny it.
Izuku stared at him, jaw dropped. “Y-you didn’t have to do that!” he rushed out. “I told you it was okay! I meant it, Kacchan, I wasn’t upset about the figurine, I—”
“Of course I had to!” Katsuki cut in. “I broke it.”
“But that job—” He gestured helplessly with one hand. “It was humiliating and exhausting and you hated it! You looked miserable!”
“So what?” Katsuki snapped. “I’m not gonna sit around owing you. You think I’d just let that go? Like I’m some kind of charity case?”
Izuku’s heart twisted. “You dressed up as a maid,” he said faintly.
Katsuki’s ears went red instantly. “Shut the hell up!”
Izuku’s chest felt too small to hold what was swelling inside it.
Because Katsuki didn’t endure things he didn’t have to. His pride was ironclad. His tolerance for humiliation? Practically nonexistent. But Katsuki had still done that. For him. Because he couldn’t stand the idea of leaving something broken between them. It mattered enough to Katsuki to endure all of that.
Because Katsuki simply… cared about him.
Izuku’s vision blurred, treacherously.
“You’re ridiculous,” he said softly, voice shaking slightly.
Katsuki huffed. “Yeah. And you’re a crybaby.”
Izuku laughed wetly, brushing at his eyes with his sleeve, but he couldn’t stop smiling. He carefully lifted the figurine from the box, cradling preciously. It meant far more than plastic and paint to him.
“Thank you.” Izuku said.
“Don’t drop this one,” Katsuki muttered.
Izuku laughed again, bright and easy.