𝔰𝔦𝔵𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

word count: 1849

also, original katsuki and yamikumo (deku) are killinggggggggg me

Bakugo POV

"Hungry?" Aizawa asks as both of our classes trudge wearily back into camp.

"I'm starving!" Kirishima claims.

"Great, then you'll have an incentive to cook."

His mouth falls open. "Cook?"

"That's right," Vlad adds. "Both classes will be cooking their own meals tonight, as another Camp Challenge!"

"Aww, but I'm so tired!" Dunce-face protests.

"Tch," I mutter.

"Well, class A and class B, who can prepare the better meal?" Vlad challenges. "Class A's station is on the right, Class B on the left! Good luck!"

"Ugh I just want to go to sleep!" Racoon-eyes complains as class A walks over to its station.

God, these idiots. I stand up on the wooden bench and yell, "Do any of you nerds actually know how to cook?!"

"Please do not stand upon the table!" Four-eyes begs.

"Shut up!" I snap

"I do, kero."

"Yeah, the basics," says Earphones.

"Anyone else?" I demand.

The others shake their heads. "Hmph. Fine. Just do what I say and we'll have a half-decent meal," I order.

"Sure, Bakugo!" they chorus.

I start assigning their tasks. Ponytail and Icyhot, being pretentious rich kids, have zero cooking skills and I leave them with the task of setting the table. I send Small Fry to scout out what class B is doing.

"Dunce-face, Soy-sauce, and Kirishima, boil the water. Froggy, remove the scales from the salmon, Earphones, make some rice, Round-face, chop the chives... Glasses, clean some dishes or whatever...Raccoon-eyes and Sparkly, quit the TikTok dances and peel the carrots! Deku, peel the potatoes. " I finish giving the remaining classmates meagre tasks that they surely can't fuck up too much.

Walking past them, I check that everything is running smoothly.

"I think I burnt the water," Pikachu announces. Soy-sauce looks on with a concerned expression.

"How is that even fucking possible?" I demand.

"Nah, it's good," Kirishima reassures. "Don't worry about us, Bakubro!"

I leave the three stooges and check on Round-face. She is chopping the chives — she's slow, but getting there. "We need them tonight!" I bark.

She jumps at the sound of my yelling and begins dicing them faster. "Oh!" she exclaims, "I cut my fingertip!"

"Are you okay?" Mina calls.

"Ew, is there going to be finger in our food?" Soy-sauce exclaims, mock-horrified.

"Go get it bandaged. The chives are done anyway," I tell her, and she runs off.

I make my way over to where Mina and Aoyama are peeling carrots and laughing loudly about some stupid internet fad. Next to them is Deku, who peels the potatoes. Actually, it looks more like he's struggling.

Standing behind him, I take the suffering potato from his hand; my other hand over the top of his that is holding the peeler. He stiffens at my touch.

"You're doing it all wrong," I growl. "Peel away from your body. See?" I guide his right hand carefully, dragging the peeler over the potato.

"Y-yeah." He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder.

Damn it. I wasn't ready for that emerald stare. "Eyes on the potato!"

Obediently, he returns to the potato. "Eyes on the potato," he repeats, laughing a little.

"What's funny?" I demand.

"Um, 'cause potatoes have eyes," he explains.

"Oh. That is a little bit funny," I concede.

"I think you can let go of his hand now," Racoon-eyes chirps from next to us.

I instantly pull away from Deku. "Hurry up with the peeling, then!" I say brusquely, turning on my heel and leaving them.

I stomp over to where Froggy has finished de-scaling the salmon. I take a razor-sharp knife and begin slicing it into strips of perfect thickness.

"I saw that, kero," she comments.

"What?" I ask, caught off-guard.

"You like him, Bakugo," she observes.

"Keep your croaky-ass voice down!" I yell.

"Kero, which of us is yelling?"

I dissever the salmon with renewed vigour. "What do you know to go making these shitty assumptions?"

She passes me the blowtorch — I had no idea we had one, I thought we'd be using Icyhot's quirk, but this is convenient — and says quietly, "You have a crush on him, kero."

I start up the blowtorch angrily. "I do not!" I shout over the sound of the flame.

"Well, then, kero, that's too bad for him."

I shut off the torch abruptly before it burns the salmon to a crisp. "What's that supposed to mean? I demand.

She walks away from me. "I suppose it doesn't matter, if you don't like him anyway, kero."

What is this cryptic shit?! I seethe with fury. Okay, so I might have feelings for Deku, but he's still a dumb nerd! And what is Froggy saying?

I finish the salmon and start prepping the food with my classmates. We fill twenty bowls with equal portions of rice, layer strips of salmon on top, and add steamed potatoes and carrots on the side.

"Done, class A?" Vlad asks, coming over to survey my, well, our work.

"Done," I announce, crossing my arms over my chest proudly.

"It looks so good! I didn't know you could cook so well," Round-face observes. "It's a little surprising."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm so starving, I could eat a bird!" Dunce-face exclaims.

"I'm pretty sure that's not the expression," Kirishima states.

"Please, do not," Tokoyami deadpans.

"AHAHA! Class A's meal is hardly anything compared to ours!" that stupid blond cackles, throwing his head back in exaggerated, manic laughter.

"Sweetie, you didn't even put anything in plates, you left it in what you cooked it in," Mina observes.

"Oui, your presentation skills are trés lacking!"

"And, one of our teams won the river race!" Mina crows.

The blond squawks, "But we—OOF!"

Class B's president smacks him over the head. "Sorry! You guys did great!"

"You too, sis!" Mina gives her a thumbs-up.

—

Midoriya POV

After we've fed our staving stomachs, both classes and the teachers gather around a crackling campfire to roast marshmallows on sticks. I sit in between Kacchan and a girl from class B whose name I don't remember.

Kacchan offers me a fat, squishy white marshmallow. I reach to take it but he pulls it away.

"Not fair," I whine playfully. I make a half-hearted grab at it, but he refuses to give it up. A devilish glint appears in his crimson eyes. I realise what he's about to do and my eyes widen. "Kacchan, don't—"

He pops the marshmallow into his mouth and chews it, a smug grin twitching on his lips. Swallowing, he asks, "Don't what?"

"You ate my marshmallow!" I complain jokingly. It dawns on me that I'm almost flirting with him.

He smirks and hands me another one. I poke it onto the top of my stick, holding it over the fire to roast it slightly.

"Spooky stories, anyone?" Reiko Yanagi asks.

"Ooh! Yes!"

"I have a good one," Tokoyami pipes up. His voice takes a terrifying, empty tone as he recites:

"One day, during a school trip, already inside the travel bus, a teacher began to tell horror stories to entertain his students. They all listened intently without interrupting. But when he began to tell a story called "Cow's Head," the students screamed, begging for the teacher to stop.

However, the teacher was in a kind of trance and could not stop telling the story. When he came back to himself, both the bus driver and all the students collapsed, and the teacher foamed through his mouth. The story is not known, but some students could not stop sweating and shivering and died a few days later..."

"Boo," Aizawa appears behind Tokoyami, clutching a large mug of coffee — as per usual. Flatly, he says, "Watch out for the Cow's Head.

"Agh!" Mina shrieks .

"Lame," Kacchan snorts.

"Can you do better?" Tokoyami challenges.

"Hell yes."

Jirou clutches Yaomomo's arm. "Don't! I won't be able to sleep!"

Kacchan crosses his arms and looks down his nose cockily. "Then don't listen, cause this story is way more terrifying than Bird Brain's."

Yanagi watches him intently. "I want to hear it, then."

He clears his throat and leans forward, the flickering flames casting eerie shadows over his features.

"One night, the parents of two children were going out to a bar, and they called a babysitter to watch their kids."

"It's always the babysitter," Mina whispers, terrified.

"Shut up, it's not!" Kacchan yells. He returns his voice to an unnatural tone and continues, "So before the parents left, they told the babysitter that their children sometimes have nightmares about a clown watching them when they sleep, and if that happens to comfort them and let them watch TV until they calm down. The babysitter is a little concerned, but he says OK. Then the parents leave.

"Later, after the kids have gone to bed, the babysitter goes to sleep in the guest room, but before he goes to sleep, he calls the parents to ask, 'Can I sleep in your room? Your clown statue in the guest room is scaring the shit out of me.'

"The parents are silent on the other line, shocked, before they say, 'We don't have a clown statue. Get out of the house with the kids.'

"And the babysitter realises that the clown is real, so he runs to get the kids from their bedroom, but he finds both of them decapitated, with their eyes missing from their bleeding sockets and the rest of the body shredded to bits."

I squeal in horror and grab onto Kacchan's arm without thinking. He glances over to me, eyebrows upturned in surprise, before resuming the story.

"Ah... and then the babysitter goes to run out the front door, but it's locked. He desperately rattles the lock, but it won't budge. He hears the floor creak, and then he turns around to see the clown behind him, its mouth and hands dripping with blood from the dead kids. And before the babysitter can even scream, the clown murders him and eats his eyeballs.

"And when the parents returned home, they found the kids' and babysitter's remains. Horrified, they called the cops, and managed to give what information they knew. The polic matched the description to that of several other similar murders. But even to this day, even with cops hunting all over the country, the killer clown hasn't been found...

"The end," Kacchan finishes, glancing triumphantly around the campfire of terrified faces. "You're all scared. I win."

Yanagi exhales shakily. "That was good."

"I know," he rolls his eyes.

I realise that I'm still holding onto his arm, and I let go, embarrassed. "G-good story... scary," I compliment.

"Must've been; you were clinging to me like a baby."

I blush. Sometimes... I don't think I understand him. One minute he seems cocky, overconfident, and smooth; the next, he's angry and overreacting. But I want to be able to understand him. I want him to let me in.