Family First (Bakugo x female reader)

Chapter 8

I don't have a good response, so when no one says anything, he goes to sit in the chair on the other side of me. The lower the sun gets, the colder it is and I wrap my arms around me, rubbing my arms to keep warm.

"Put on a jacket if you're going to stay out in the cold, dumbass." Bakugo mumbles, using his quirk to heat his hands and rub his own arms.

"You're one to talk." I grumble back.

"Come on. Can't have you getting sick on me." He stands and reaches out his visibly warm hand to me. I roll my eyes and take it, fingers thawing out immediately against his warm palm.

"That's a handy trick"

"Took me awhile to figure out how to control it. Burned the crap outta Kirishima a few times."

"Who's Kirishima?"

"The pro hero Red Riot. Do you live under a rock? He's like the public's favorite chivalrous hero." He leads me inside and drops my hand, opting to rub my frozen arms.

"Oh the boulder guy! He's hot. And buff. And tall. And hot."

"You said hot twice." He deadpans

"He's really hot" I shrug, stepping out of his grip to go change into my robe and figure out dinner.

"Tch. He's got dumb hair."

"No one's looking at his hair, Bakugo" I wink, ascending the stairs. "Do you want a new set of clothes?"

"Yah." He grumbles

I decide not to tease him further for actually being polite. Opening the closet upstairs and rooting around in the remaining mens' clothing, I can't help but pick a specific outfit that I know will get a reaction out of him. Tossing it over the side of the loft, he mutters another thanks before going to the bathroom, clearly not looking at what I tossed him.

Taking my time, I strip my clothes off and put them in the laundry hamper in the bathroom before showering and taking care to gently wash my tattoo with unscented soap and then when out, moisturizing with unscented lotion. I put my robe on, letting my damp hair hang free down the back. The soft silk feels good on my cold skin and I saunter down the stairs, robe flowing behind me but the sash keeps it from opening and revealing anything scandalous.

"What the fuck did you drop down for me?" He angrily stomps toward me, dressed in a tight pink tank top that reveals the bottom inch of his chiseled stomach and black booty shorts that barely hits his mid thigh.

"Clothes. If you wanted something specific, you should have asked for it." I stifle a smile, running my eyes up and down his body slowly. His calves and thighs are well toned and my heart starts pounding the longer I look, eyes snagging for a moment too long on a defined bulge in the shorts.

"Give me something else to wear." He grinds out through gritted teeth.

"I got a second robe, but I don't think it'll fit over your arms." I take my phone out of the pocket in my robe, pulling up the website for a restaurant nearby. "What do you feel like for dinner?"

"I'll cook." He turns, the tips of his ears are red. If it's from anger or embarrassment, I can't tell.

"Aren't we out of groceries after lunch?"

"I got enough for dinner and breakfast tomorrow too." He replies, pulling out all the cooking equipment he needs now that he knows where everything is for the most part. He pours me a glass of whiskey and slides it across the island as I sit on one of the barstools.

"What are you cooking?"

"Just something simple." The smells wafting over to me are familiar and comforting. It reminds me of my favorite meal from childhood that my mom would always make me when I was sick. I watch him skillfully cook, adding ingredients without measuring and spices by taste. When I finish my glass, he gestures for me to slide it back so he can fill it.