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“Oi, Icyhot,” Katsuki barked, kicking the dorm kitchen door open with the subtlety of a grenade going off. “If you’re gonna try making sushi, at least don’t leave the goddamn foil from the packaging in the rice. What’re you trying to do—murder someone?”Todoroki, perched on one of the kitchen stools like some ethereal prince who accidentally wandered into a low-budget cooking show, blinked at him. “It’s edible gold. People use it all the time in high-end cuisine.”“Oh, high-end cuisine, huh? You mean the crap rich people eat to prove their wallets are bigger than their brains? You’re feeding UA’s discount-level rats, not catering a billion-yen gala!” Katsuki slammed the offending foil-wrapped package of rice down on the counter.“It’s supposed to add visual appeal,” Todoroki deadpanned, gesturing vaguely at the rice pot as if it were a Renaissance painting. “I thought you’d appreciate it. You’re meticulous about presentation.”Katsuki snorted, leaning on the counter and glaring at him. “I’m meticulous about not poisoning anyone. And since when do you care about how food looks? You eat soba straight outta the pot like it’s a bowl of cereal.”Todoroki tilted his head, unbothered. “I care when you’re involved.”The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. Katsuki opened his mouth to retort, but his brain short-circuited halfway there.“...The hell does that mean?” he growled, though the blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.“It means I like you,” Todoroki said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “And I don’t want you to think I have poor taste.”Katsuki sputtered, caught somewhere between rage and something far more dangerous: embarrassment. “What—what kinda psycho confession is that?! You can’t just say crap like that out of nowhere!”“Would you have preferred I left a note in the rice?”“Don’t test me, Half ‘n Half!” Katsuki’s hand sparked threateningly, “I’ll blow you into next week.”“Does that mean I’ll miss the practical exam?” Todoroki asked, completely unfazed.“You—” Katsuki ran a hand down his face, muttering curses under his breath. “You’re impossible.”“I’ve been told.”Before Katsuki could launch into another tirade about edible gold and emotional constipation, the rest of the class trickled into the common room.“Yo, Bakugou, what’s for breakfast?” Kaminari called, stretching dramatically as he entered.“Nothing for you, Pikachu,” Katsuki snapped. “If you so much as breathe near the kitchen, I’ll fry your ass.”“Rude.” Kaminari pouted, plopping onto the couch. “Hey, is that edible gold? Fancy.”“It’s not staying,” Katsuki barked. “Half ‘n Half over here thought it’d be a good idea to add some bougie crap to our rice, but I’m not letting you morons choke on it.”“It’s edible, though,” Todoroki repeated, clearly unwilling to let the point go.“Yeah, well, so are crayons, but I wouldn’t serve those to the class, either.”“...Have you eaten crayons before?”“Don’t change the subject!” Katsuki’s voice cracked slightly, which only made Kaminari snicker.“Morning chaos as usual, I see,” Jirou said as she walked in, earbuds dangling around her neck.“Morning?” Mina appeared behind her, already laughing. “More like Katsuki yelling at his secret boyfriend. Again.”Katsuki nearly choked on air. “What?”“You heard me,” Mina said with a sly grin. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed the flirting.”“Flirting?!” Katsuki looked genuinely offended. “I don’t flirt. I’m not a freaking middle schooler.”“Right,” Mina drawled. “And I’m not pink. Sure, Blasty.”Todoroki, meanwhile, was watching the conversation unfold with mild amusement, which only pissed Katsuki off more.“Don’t just sit there, Icyhot! Say something!”Todoroki took a slow sip of his tea before replying. “They’re not wrong.”“You absolute bastard—” Katsuki’s hand sparked again, but Todoroki didn’t even flinch.“Careful,” Todoroki said, “If you blow up the kitchen, you’ll have to rebuild it. And that would cut into your training time.”“Don’t think I won’t!” Katsuki snapped, though his hands lowered slightly. “And stop trying to look cool while saying dumb crap—it’s pissing me off.”“It’s not intentional.”“Yeah, right.”The rest of the class, now fully gathered, watched the exchange like a live sitcom.“Should we do something?” Midoriya whispered to Uraraka, who was trying (and failing) to stifle her laughter.“No way,” Uraraka replied, grinning. “This is way too entertaining.”“Besides,” Kirishima added, clapping Midoriya on the back, “they’re clearly working something out. Bro-to-bro style.”Midoriya frowned. “I don’t think that’s—”“Shut up, nerd!” Katsuki yelled from across the room, clearly having overheard. “No one asked for your commentary!”“Leave Midoriya alone,” Todoroki said.Katsuki whirled on him. “Why are you defending him?!”“Because you’re deflecting.”Katsuki froze.The room went silent again, this time with an air of tension so thick you could cut it with Todoroki’s ice.“...What did you just say?” Katsuki asked.“You heard me,” Todoroki replied evenly, meeting his gaze.For a moment, it seemed like Katsuki might actually explode—not metaphorically, but in the literal sense. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he laughed.“Deflecting, huh?” he said, crossing his arms. “You think you’re so damn smart, don’t you?”“I know I’m smart,” Todoroki said, a smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth. “But that’s not the point.”“Oh, yeah? Then what is the point, genius?”“That you care more about this than you’re willing to admit,” Todoroki said simply.Katsuki stared at him for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he turned back to the rice pot and started scooping it into bowls.“Fine,” he muttered. “But if you try pulling another stunt like this, I’m kicking your ass.”Todoroki’s smirk widened slightly. “Noted.”The rest of the class exchanged bewildered glances, but no one dared to say anything.“Now, sit your asses down!” Katsuki barked, shoving bowls at anyone within reach. “And if anyone complains about the rice, I’m shoving it down your throat!”As the class scrambled into their seats, Todoroki took his seat beside Katsuki, who muttered something about “damn rich kids” but didn’t bother moving away.It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t romantic. Hell, it wasn’t even civil.But for them, it was enough.