Days in a Crucible [BakuIida]

Chapter 6

Iida's not a bad chef. Cooking is just following instructions, after all; so long as you have a decent recipe and do not stray from it, it's hard to do wrong.

Iida has seldom prepared food for others before, but he refuses to let himself overthink it, preferring instead to just work as if he's making his own food, doubled. He gets to work immediately, wholly immersed in the task as soon as he begins. When there's a knock at the door, Iida practically jumps out of his skin, even though he knows it's only Bakugou. "Come in!" he calls, his hands slimy with raw chicken. "It's unlocked!"

He doesn't know where Bakugou goes once he's inside the apartment, and doesn't really care. In a minute Iida's back in his own world. He checks his recipe again, measures spices, turns on the stove. In a few minutes the apartment is thick with the scent of food cooking - hot oil, chicken, vegetables.

A voice behind him: "What're you making?"

"A stir-fry," Iida says, not taking his eyes off what's in front of him. "You've got good timing, Bakugou. It's almost ready."

"Yeah, I can tell," Bakugou says. "I'll set the table."

You don't know where anything is, Iida wants to say, but he holds himself back. He'll let Bakugou figure it out - there's no harm in it. Iida doesn't actually mind him in the kitchen, opening the cupboards and drawers to find where the dishes and silverware are kept. And it's one less thing for Iida to deal with, anyway.

They eat in silence. When they're done Bakugou offers no compliments on his cooking, but Iida is aware of how much Bakugou ate - there's almost no leftovers. Obviously Iida must have done something right.

After dinner, Bakugou looks at him for a long time, and Iida gets the sense he's working up the courage to ask something. Finally he says, "Do you want to spar?"

The question takes Iida by surprise, and he laughs nervously. "Here? Now?"

"Well - yeah..."

"My apartment isn't really as nice as it appears," Iida says. "The walls and floors are quite thin. I hardly think my neighbors would appreciate that." He's never sparred in his apartment, and certainly isn't about to start now. But to soften the sting of rejection, he adds, "I did enjoy sparring with you quite a lot. We certainly can do it again on our next day off, just at a different location."

"Okay, yeah," Bakugou says, and if he's embarrassed, Iida can't tell. "That's cool."

"I only have one bed, of course, but I can sleep on the couch," Iida says. It isn't nearly bedtime yet, of course, but he likes to get these things taken care of ahead of time, so there's less to worry about later.

But Bakugou is frowning. "No," he says, "I'll take the couch."

"It's small," Iida says. "Too small to stretch out." He knows from personal experience that it's not that soft, either. "It won't be comfortable. And you're my guest, so you can have the bed."

"I don't give a fuck if it's comfortable or not," Bakugou says. "It's your house. I'm not stupid, I know you invited me here for my sake, not yours, so at least let me take the uncomfortable place, alright? Besides," he adds, smiling a little grimly, "I've definitely fallen asleep in worse places."

Iida blinks, surprised. He didn't think Bakugou had realized the favor Iida was doing him. Iida assumed that if Bakugou were aware of his motives, he would have refused to stay the night, what with his aversion to accepting acts of pity. "Very well," Iida says at last. "If you insist."

They do their own thing for a while, nearby one another but not interacting. Iida looks over recent news articles, getting himself up to speed on what he might encounter at work the following day and what sort of villains his agency's been dealing with recently. Bakugou's brought his laptop with him, and he watches something with the headphones plugged in, his face blank. Iida gets ready for bed at his normal time and is asleep before eleven.