Actions

Work Header

Sweet Like... Birthday Cake?

Work Text:

There are many things that get on Katsuki’s nerves, but having his sleep disturbed is probably at the top of the list.

He’s always been an early to bed, early to rise kind of guy, so when it came time to find a roommate after graduation, Todoroki was the only one of his friends he could consider moving in with without strangling him. 

Their sleep schedule is the one thing they’ve always had in common, and other than a few extremely conflicting design choices, living with him has been relatively a piece of cake.

So why in the world is said ideal roommate channeling a three ring circus in the middle of the night?

It’s a suspicious clang that wakes him up. It’s so isolated that he thinks when he first hears it that it was part of his dream, but when he closes his eyes, it’s followed by a thud similar to a cat jumping off of one of the cabinets onto the table. 

No, that’s not right. They don’t have a cat.

Katsuki lifts up his head and waits. Nothing. Must have been one of the neighbors, he thinks, and then he flips his pillow over to the cold side so he can go back to sleep before it’s too late. He’s already forgotten whatever it was he was dreaming about.

It’s peaceful again, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to slap a harshly worded letter onto his neighbor’s door because the last time he did, Todoroki made fun of him for two days for spelling insuffrable wrong. He was ticked off, alright? And who does that little cherry headed coconut think he is that he can just make fun of another person? Idiot.

He finally relaxes, and then what sounds like every pot and pan they have in the apartment crashing to the ground jolts his whole body alert. He rolls over with a loud groan, pulling his pillow over his head as he goes because it’s just as he feared, Todoroki is out there being annoying.

The cautious pauses that were apparently the only reason Katsuki could let his guard down have been completely discarded because the noises in their apartment have gone from did I hear something to why is Todoroki playing the drums on the kitchen table , and it’s taking every last ounce of control Katsuki has to not blast a hole through his own bedroom door.

He glances at the clock, and sure it’s only a couple hours before midnight, but that’s besides the point. They are both, by law, supposed to go to bed at their self imposed grandpa hours. That’s how they work. That’s how they get along. All symbiosis is gone, and now Katsuki has to strangle him. Oh well, two years with no hiccups was a good run. A record maybe.

No, scratch that.  

One pass. He gets one pass, but that’s it. He likes living with Todoroki whether or not he’ll ever actually admit it. They have a good routine here, or at least they had a good routine, but other than this one act of bedtime rebellion, Todoroki is easy and tolerable, and Katsuki isn’t in the mood to deal with interviewing potential roommates after burying the only good one.

If Katsuki can survive sleeping in the UA dorms for three years, he can get through one night of Todoroki banging a few pots and pans together. He can do this. He just has to close his eyes, take a few breaths, and pretend like the percussion section performing in his apartment is actually just someone outside.

He can do this.

Whirrrrrdddddadadadadadqdadawrrrrrrrtttddddd.

No he can’t.

Katsuki leaps up out of bed, slinging his lucky All Might plush across the room (don’t ask if you want to live), and kicks the door open with enough force to put a dent in the wall. Oops. No, not oops. His landlord can shove it, this is war.

He stomps down the hall absolutely foaming at the mouth, seconds away from sinking his teeth into his roommate and not in a good way, and that’s when he sees the back view of a patch of red and white hair.

“Oi, what the–,” Katsuki shouts.

Todoroki freezes and turns towards him like he’s just been caught in the act of something truly devious, and that’s when Katsuki sees the hand mixer he’s holding dripping with some kind of batter onto the floor. It splats loudly once, and Todoroki blinks, still unmoving.

Todoroki is in his pajamas (or the worn out Deku brand t-shirt and the Shouto brand boxers he likes to sleep in) with the front of his hair tied up out of his face like a goofy looking unicorn, still dripping all over the floor like a deer in headlights.

“What are you doing,” Katsuki asks without as much menace as before.

Todoroki pauses long enough for him to see the cogs in his head jerk. “I don’t know.”

He scowls and storms over to see the kitchen is an absolute disaster. He never thought before that one person could make this big of a mess without using their quirk, but Todoroki is always full of so many surprises. Katsuki is speechless.

Metaphorically.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

The kitchen cabinets and countertops are all covered with a suspicious white powder, there is batter splattered all over the floor, and the sink is piled up to the brim with dirty bowls and spoons. He thinks Todoroki might have gone off the deep end.

And then he sees the box of cake mix on the table.

Oh.

Oh no.

Katsuki pales as all the blood and fire drains out of his body, and he’s left standing in his kitchen like an idiot while the cake batter drips from the mixer in Todoroki’s hand down to the floor. Time moves a little too slowly, and for once he actually is at a loss for words.

Is he–?

“Oh, you’re up,” Todoroki says.

Of course I’m up, you broke the kitchen, is what he wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to yell at him.

There’s no way, right? He’s not actually baking him a b–, he’s not actually baking. This is for someone else. A work thing. A niece or nephew Katsuki doesn’t know about. Deku, maybe. Someone else broke into their kitchen and did this, and Katsuki just happened to catch Todoroki inspecting the evidence. There’s. No. Way.

Splat.

“You’re dripping.”

Todoroki looks down at the floor covered in little droplets of batter around his feet and sighs. “I see.”

He looks around with a slight frown until he spots the towels on the counter. He takes one and bends over to clean up the mess, but he’s stopped by the electric cord still plugged into the wall.

Katsuki swears under in his breath. “Don’t. I’ll get it.”

“No, you don’t have–.”

“Just put that down, it’s fine,” he says, waving him off before he gets down on his hands and knees to clean up the cake batter and flour and god knows what else off of the floor. 

He can’t believe this. He should be mad. He should be furious, but instead he’s using this as an excuse to hide his stupid watery eyes and his stupid red face because ever since he was like, what, ten? and decided that he was too big for birthday parties, no one has once stopped to bake him a birthday cake.

If this is for him. 

He winces at himself, a little embarrassed because there’s a chance that this is just an unfortunate coincidence, and instead of making a huge idiot out of himself for questioning if it’s for him out loud, he just buries his head and scrubs away at the evidence of something that might make him want to cry.

Splat.

Something cold and suspicious lands on the back of Katsuki’s head, and he has to close his eyes and bite his tongue to keep from screaming. 

“Half and Half,” he breathes. “If you don’t put down that stupid hand mixer, I’m gonna put it down for you.”

“I don’t want to get batter on the counter.”

Katsuki glances up and scowls. “It’s already on the floor.”

“Not anymore, it isn’t.”

“That’s because I just–! Just… put it in the bowl.”

“If i do that, the bowl tips over.”

“Oh my god,” Katsuki says and stands back up. “Give me that.”

He huffs and takes Todoroki’s (his) hand mixer from him and begrudgingly props the back of the body onto the counter so that the beaters drip safely into the bowl. He considers slinging it across the room, kicking Todoroki out for the night, and then moving to a far away country where he never has to clean up this kitchen again, but then an evil little voice that sounds an awful lot like Deku’s says this is probably the first time he’s ever baked anything. 

“If you set it like this, it won’t tip over,” he says as calmly as he can, the vessel in his forehead throbbing. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

Katsuki manages a grunt as a reply before he sticks his head under the sink faucet. This is not how he wanted to spend his night, but he’s not about to shower again , and he cannot go to work tomorrow with a big crusty wad of cake batter on the back of his head. 

The water comes like an icy shock, and he immediately regrets not waiting just a little bit longer for it to heat up. He feels around the back of his head so he can rinse the batter out, but then a helpful pair of hands takes care of the scrubbing for him. He’s never had someone else wash his hair for him before, and it comes as a mild shock, but this is Todoroki’s fault for messing him up in the first place. He should be the one to wash it out.

“Here,” Todoroki says. He puts a (hopefully) clean dish drying towel over the back of his head after shutting the water off and helps him stand back up with it so he doesn’t completely soak his shirt. 

Katsuki does not thank him because once again, this is entirely his fault, but he doesn’t call him an idiot either which balances things out. He sits down at the table and squeezes the water out of his hair with no intention of getting back up.

“What are you doing?” Todoroki asks.

“I don’t think I can let you do this unsupervised.”

“I’m fine. I followed the directions perfectly.”

Katsuki squints, unbelieving.

“Really, I did,” he insists. He turns back and scoops up a pile of batter onto the tip of his finger and marches towards him. “See, try it.”

“I’m not eating that off your finger,” Katsuki shouts. “Have you lost your mind?”

Todoroki pauses and blinks. “I may have taken my sleep aid before I looked at the calendar and saw what day it was.”

“And what day is that?” 

Maybe he’s a glutton for making a fool of himself. Sue him.

Todoroki swallows. “... Monday.”

Katsuki squints. “Mhm…”

“But still,” he marches back and grabs one of the few remaining clean spoons from the drawer and dips it into the bowl. “Try it! If it tastes weird, I’ll throw it away, but if it’s good, you have to get out of my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen,” he almost screams. Everyone knows Todoroki only comes in here to make instant noodles and cereal. God, why is he allowed to touch the oven? Who authorized this? “Give me that.”

Katsuki takes the spoon and tries his suspicious cake mixture. It’s a little… off, but he can’t say he’s surprised considering how much of the dry ingredients ended up on the walls. Otherwise, it seems safe. Katsuki quirks an eyebrow. He gets a pass for the Ambien.

“It’s not bad.”

“See, you can go back to sleep now.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not,” Todoroki frowns. 

“Too many opportunities left for you to burn down my kitchen.”

This time it’s Todoroki who glares. A faint puff of steam comes out of one of his nostrils, and god, if that’s supposed to be intimidating, he really shouldn’t have been born split down the middle. Katsuki holds back a smirk, both refusing to back down and amused that Todoroki thinks he can look tough in his sleep clothes.

“Fine, but I don’t want to hear about how tired you are tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’re gonna hear about it, Elephant Feet.”

“Elephant Feet?” Todoroki gawks.

“Stomping around in here all night like you’re tryna break the floor,” he says before pointing his finger at him. “If the landlord comes around tomorrow, you’re gonna tell him yourself it ain’t me this time.”

“I will not.”

“Oi, you-!”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, my oven is finished preheating.”

Katsuki slumps back in his chair, absolutely fuming, but he does not comment on Todoroki thinking he gets to claim the oven. 

He watches him quietly, holding back the urge to insult him in the little infuriating ways that have been the core of their friendship, if he can even call it that.

Todoroki pours the contents into two round pans, and then frowns when they don’t come out even. Katsuki exhales. If he leaves them like that, one is either going to bake to death or the other is going to turn out like soup. He needs to say something. He absolutely should say something.

He can’t bring himself to.

He places the uneven pans on the oven rack with a loud clank that Katsuki can feel in his bones. He’s going to develop a trauma at this rate.

“Did you want to lick the bowl,” Todoroki asks.

Katsuki makes a face. “No?!”

Kinda.

Todoroki hums and drops in the sink. Bummer. But then he takes one of the beaters out of the hand mixer and hands it to him without a word. They do not exchange glances for this. 

He does end up helping him clean up the kitchen while the cake layers bake though. It’s a wordless activity as they go through the motions of washing and drying way too many bowls for someone who allegedly only used one singular box of cake mix. Where did all of the flour come from? How did he do this?

Nope. It’s best not to ask. Katsuki doesn’t want to know.

The timer goes off, and the apartment smells like vanilla and something faintly citrus. Todoroki retrieves the two cake pans. One is significantly darker than the other as expected, but Katsuki can hardly bring himself to comment on it. What’s a little burnt cake when it’s your first… 

No, it’s not for me. It can’t be.

“Oh, I guess I have to frost them now,” Todoroki says more so to himself.

“You should wait until they cool down so the icing doesn’t melt off.”

“Right, yeah.”

He’s tired. He’s forcing himself to stay awake for this, and god if Katsuki doesn’t feel bad. No one asked him to do this. No one tasked him with baking a cake because this isn’t a thing people do for Katsuki. He’s never wanted them to.

So why in the world did Todoroki get the idea to do this now of all times?

“You forget a work thing or something? Somebody retiring?”

“No,” Todoroki starts, but Katsuki cuts him off.

“Because if some loser thinks they need a cake iced at midnight or whatever, they can get over themselves.”

“I want to do it,” he says. “I bought food coloring.”

It’s hard to argue with that. It’s hard to argue with him about anything, actually, but that doesn’t mean Katsuki is going to stop any time soon. 

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Todoroki stands his ground.

“So?!”

“Aren’t you the one who told me I shouldn’t let anyone stop me from doing what I want to do?”

Katsuki opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut. He might have said that, but he isn’t sure. It doesn’t sound like something he ever would say out loud, but sometimes after a long night, things happen.

But Todoroki looks sincere. He always does, in a way, but right now it looks like he means it, and if this is some stupid value Katsuki has accidentally bestowed upon another human being, it’s not like it’s his place to undo it.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Ice your stupid cake,” he grumbles. “Stay up all night, see if I care.”

“I’m glad we can see eye to eye,” he says just dismissively enough that Katsuki thinks he might throw him out the window along with his stupid half burnt cake pans.

He takes a seat back at the table bitterly and folds his arms across his chest.

“What are you doing,” Todoroki asks, genuinely surprised. “We cleaned the kitchen, and I’m not going to use the oven again. No supervision needed.”

“We’re doing what we want to do now, right? Then I want to sit here.”

“Why?”

Because you’re baking me a cake, and it feels weird.

“Because you’re too noisy. I can’t sleep.”

He exhales. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

Todoroki ignores him for the most part until the cakes are cool to the touch. Katsuki winces as he shakes the pans aggressively to get the layers out onto two plates, but somehow Todoroki manages to not completely break them into a million crumbly pieces.

He grabs another bowl— Jesus, how many bowls does this guy need?— and scoops out two containers of store bought vanilla frosting into it. Well, it’s not like he could have expected him to nail buttercream on his first ever baking attempt, so he’s not sure why he’s so surprised.

Todoroki sits down at the table and digs through his shopping bag until he finds a tube Katsuki doesn’t recognize. He has to squint, but he’s pretty sure the label says that it’s gel food coloring across the front.

Long slender fingers squeeze out a fluorescent orange goo into the frosting with determination, and the pent up irritation he’s been harboring for the last hour completely dissipates as he watches Todoroki do this simple task like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Why are you doing this?”

His voice comes out too soft. It’s the late night air and the lingering haze of a sleep too quickly interrupted, but Todoroki doesn’t seem to notice.

“Because I want to.”

He doesn’t look at him, still squeezing out the last drop like someone who forgot to buy more toothpaste.

“Half and Half.”

He furrows his brow. “Because Midoriya is out of town on an assignment, and you two always spend your birthday together.”

Katsuki sucks his teeth. “No we don’t, that’s ridi–.”

Kacchan, someone dropped by some movie tickets at the agency, you wanna go? Hey, I’ve been craving spicy food lately, let’s go grab something. I need to come over, there’s a weird case I need your brain for.

He’s going to kill him.

Katsuki feels his face go red. “Did that stupid nerd tell you to babysit me?! No one told you losers to do that!”

Todoroki doesn’t even flinch, instead grabbing another spoon— are you kidding me— to mix the food coloring gel in with the rest of the frosting. It turns it a pale orange, and Katsuki hates that something about that makes him a little less angry.

Only a little.

“He didn’t tell me to do anything,” he says calmly. “I told you I saw what day it was, and then I ran down to the shop down the street and grabbed what I could find because I didn’t want you to wake up without a birthday cake.”

“After taking your sleeping pills?”

“It was an interesting run.”

“Oh my god,” Katsuki groans, rubbing his temples. “Why would you do that? I don’t even want a stupid birthday cake.”

He looks up when he doesn’t immediately get an answer. No simple reply, no veiled snark. Just silence. 

Todoroki stares at him, and he looks hurt for once. It’s in the subtle downward curve of his mouth, and the way a shadow forms under his unscarred eye, making the blue one stand out even stronger than usual, and it’s something the average idiot would mistake for his normal resting face.

Katsuki is no idiot.

Well, now he might be.

Todoroki breaks eye contact first and exhales. “Then don’t eat it. Throw it away. I see I’ve made a mistake then because I thought you liked them.”

“Now what gave you that idea,” he glares, this feeling of being pitied reaching around his throat and squeezing in a way he doesn’t like. The pressure builds in the corner of his eyes, and he doesn’t know who he hates more right now: Todoroki, Deku, or himself.

“You always bake me a cake every year for my birthday.”

Yes, there’s no doubt about. Katsuki is the biggest idiot of them all.

There was no scheme here or stupid Deku meddling because he feels sorry for him. Todoroki was just trying to do something nice for him because he wanted to.

And Katsuki might as well have thrown it in the trash for him.

“He didn’t tell you to do this?”

“No,” he exhales. “No one told me to do anything. You two have your thing, whatever, I don’t want to get in the way of that, but I didn’t want your birthday to be ruined, so I thought you would like this because you always do it for me and it makes me happy, but I guess I misunderstood. Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Katsuki half chokes. “Say… that.”

“Say what.”

“That word,” he winces. “I don’t like it.”

“What word.”

“The sorry one. I don’t want you to say that to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you didn’t do anything wrong! God, okay, you know what, I’m sorry. I thought you two were trying to make me look stupid and feeling sorry for me or whatever over a stupid birthday. I didn’t know this was just you being– I didn’t know you wanted to.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever baked a cake before.”

You don’t say. 

“It smells good,” Katsuki tries. He’s trying. He really didn’t know. 

“I watched a youtube video.”

Katsuki exhales. This stupid nice little candy cane. He hates him. He really does.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“So can I finish, or do you still think it’s too stupid.”

“You can finish,” he grumbles.

“Thank you.”

 

Splat.

It’s almost unnerving how loud one person can be when they’re usually so unnervingly quiet, but Todoroki is not himself if not full of surprises. 

He plops a spoonful of the icing down onto the bottom (thickest) layer of cake and tries his best to slather it around with the back of his stupid spoon, but the tool proves ineffective. Katsuki almost tells him that they have an offset spatula in one of the drawers, but something about the idea of Todoroki getting his hands on one of those sends a wave of fear down his spine. Baby steps, he thinks.

He only manages to scrape away some of the top before completely covering the bottom layer in orange icing. Orange. Orange for me. Consider Katsuki impressed.

He tops it with the thinner cake layer, but this time it seems he’s got his spoon-backed slathering technique down to a science. It doesn’t take him half as long to cover the top and sides with the remaining frosting, and although it’s not bakery quality, for his first time, it’s not half bad.

“Done.”

He smiles slightly, and it’s like someone walked up and punched Katsuki right between the eyes because he thinks he might see stars.

Maybe he’s the one who took the Ambien.

“Welp,” he nods, swallowing down any semblance of emotions because he’s no sap. “You did it. You baked a birthday cake.”

And then Todoroki does the unthinkable.

He beams. 

He absolutely radiates enough that the whole stupid kitchen glows, and it makes him sick. He’s absolutely disgusted with himself for enjoying this as much as he is, but a smiling Todoroki is a beautiful thing.

“Happy Birthday!”

I’m gonna die.

Katsuki looks down at his hands, embarrassed. This is really too much to handle without screaming or breaking something. “It’s not even my birthday yet, idiot.”

“It probably is,” he considers. “It’s after midnight by now, right?”

“Is it?” Katsuki frowns and reaches for his phone. He’s right, it’s just a few minutes after, but he guesses now it’s his birthday. “Oh, I guess it is.”

“Do you want to…,” Todoroki starts. “You know.”

Katsuki’s eyes widen. “What?”

“You know,” he says quietly. “Eat it?”

He closes his eyes and exhales. This is one of the strongest heroes in the world, and he’s waiting for permission to eat the cake he spent all night baking and frosting. This is ridiculous.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” he waves. “We’re already up.”

“Great. Just one more second please.”

“Are you seriou–.”

“Ten seconds,” Todoroki says as he digs through his bag. His face sinks into a frown as he dumps the contents onto the table. “Oh no.”

“What is it?”

“I forgot to buy the candles.”

“That’s fine, we don’t need–,”

“Here.”

Todoroki leans over the table, propping himself up with one hand as he holds the other up towards Katsuki. One finger is lit with a tiny flame, and it casts a heart shaped shadow over his face. Okay, maybe Katsuki is just imagining that.

“What are you doing,” he leans back.

“Come on, blow it out.”

“This is stupid,” he frowns.

“I can keep a finger lit all night without overheating. I’ve done it before.”

Katsuki blinks quickly. Nope, not asking. Don’t care .

“Bakugou,” he frowns, his voice too low, resonating from somewhere deep in his chest, and it hits him right in the gut.

“Fine, whatever,” he scoffs. He stands up and leans across the table before taking a deep breath.

“Don’t forget to make a wish.”

He glares at him before closing his eyes. What is he supposed to wish for? He doesn’t want anything. He doesn’t need anything either. He could wish for more money. He could wish for his favorite team to stop embarrassing him. He could wish people would stop using pictures of him with his mouth open for their cover photos. None of it sticks though.

He isn’t going to wish for anything. He’s going to blow out Todoroki’s stupid little finger flame like an idiot because Todoroki is pretty so sometimes he gives in to him. Whatever. He’s not making a stupid wish because there’s nothing he wants enough to think this would make a difference for.

Once again, he’s an idiot.

In that one quick moment when he puffs out a lung full of air, he wishes that they could do this again next year, betraying himself in the end. He opens his eyes and sees how close they are now, leaning over a lopsided orange birthday cake like a couple of idiots. 

He isn’t sure he’s ever looked at Todoroki this close before. The texture of his scar, the way the split hues in that stupid little unicorn horn he calls a hairstyle blend together, the sharp doll-like point of his nose. It’s all there close enough for him to memorize, and he wonders how much else of him has gone unnoticed for all this time. 

“Happy Birthday,” he says again with a slight grin before flicking him in the nose with his heated finger. It burns, but not enough to hurt, but that’s not what makes Katsuki so angry. It’s the audacity that the little candy cane would flick him .

He shouts out something barbaric and grabs the icing spoon out of the bowl and smears it across Todoroki’s cheek. 

Todoroki gasps in surprise, a streak of orange tainting his stupid perfect face, and the shock awakens something demonic and childlike in him.

 

No one suffers more than the poor candleless birthday cake. Streaks and smears of crumb coated frosting become marks of a victorless battle as the two of them turn their kitchen into a war zone.

They end up on the floor out of breath and covered in cake on opposite sides of the kitchen, and Katsuki isn’t sure where things went wrong. Becoming friends for a start. Moving in together probably. Thinking they can spend more than an hour together without one of them losing their last brain cell, most likely.

Todoroki is an absolute mess. Katsuki smirks. He got him good.

“What did you slap with me,” he asks.

“The top layer.”

Todoroki lifts his head off the cabinet and blinks, but then he puts it back and nods. “Fair choice.”

Bakugou scoops off a smudge from his cheek and tastes it. It’s not bad. “Cake’s pretty good.”

“Is it? Thanks.”

“Mhm. Why does my whole face smell like fruit?”

“The youtube video said if you put a can of soda in with the batter, it makes the cake moist.”

He makes a face. “What kind of soda did you use?”

“We didn’t have any so I used a sports drink.”

Katsuki blinks. “You what?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll replace it tomorrow. I just didn’t want you to eat a dry cake.”

Eat it, throw it, use it as a weapon, same thing.

“No, I’m not mad about that, are you trying to kill me?! You can’t bake with that!”

“It’s mostly just sugar and water,” Todoroki says calmly. “I don’t see why you can’t.”

He’s… probably… not wrong, but what kind of an idiot looks at a cake recipe and thinks hey, you know what this needs? a post-workout refreshment.

Todoroki looks him dead in the eye as he wipes a smear off of his jaw. “Was the cake not moist enough for you, Bakugou?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but Todoroki continues.

“Was it not delicious? Are you unsatisfied?”

“You sound like a psychopath.”

“You slapped me with a cake layer.”

“You shoved icing up my nose.”

“I don’t see your point.”

Todoroki sighs, giving up first. Ha, victory. He stands up and brushes the crumbs off of his shirt. Katsuki succeeded in giving the Deku printed across the front a stupid orange mustache, but now that he’s come down from whatever that was, he kind of feels bad for ruining Todoroki’s sleep clothes for the night. He considers offering him one of his, but decides against it.

“I’m going to shower first,” he says. “I’ll clean… this up after.”

“I got it,” he sighs. “Go wash the frosting out of your hair before it turns orange.”

“You don’t have to–.”

“Go,” Katsuki booms. “I’m sick of looking at you.”

Todoroki turns away, unbothered. “Fine. Thanks for the help.”

Thanks for the cake, he almost says.

It’s the first time since he was a kid that someone has baked a birthday cake for him, and probably the first cake ever baked for him that no one got to eat, but somehow this is more fitting. The idea of sitting across from Todoroki at their kitchen table and slicing a cake and sipping their tea feels like something a grandpa would do.

But he guesses if he had to do grandpa things with anyone, Todoroki wouldn’t be so bad. He’s a decent roommate after all. They have the same sleep schedule, he’s quiet for the most part when he’s not destroying a kitchen, and they get along well in their own way, ignoring the cake fight. 

“I’m borrowing one of your shirts,” Todoroki says from the other side of the apartment.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Katsuki shouts. “You touch my stuff, I’ll kill you!”

He drops his head back against one of the cabinets and groans.

“Happy Birthday, you dumb loser. You just caught a thing for your roommate.”

It happens.

“Did you say something?” Todoroki sticks his head out.

“No, I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, alright.”

Katsuki rubs his face because he knows he’s about to say something stupid, but whatever, it’s late. He’s tired. He’s covered in cake. He’s an idiot.

“You wanna hang out tomorrow or something?”

Todoroki makes a surprised face. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Cool, put my shirt back.”

“Nope.”

He slams the door shut, retreating into the bathroom, and Katsuki reaches for something to throw at him, but all he can find is more cake.

And that’s when it hits him. He still has to clean this whole mess up before it stains everything and they lose their deposit. It looks like he can forget sleeping at all tonight.

Maybe wishing they could do this again next year wasn’t such a good idea after all.