(Sin)namon Rolls

Chapter 3: Deku vs. Kacchan's Drinking Problem

    "You need to look presentable, Deku," she'd said.
    Presentable wasn't exactly the word I would have used to describe the person I saw in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't that I didn't like the new look. Turtleneck sweaters and undercuts just weren't really my thing. Then again, villainy hadn't really been my thing four years ago either but here we are.
     "50C approaching," said the voice of Uraraka.
     I held two fingers to the device in my ear.
     "Understood," I replied.
     I mussed my hair, smoothed down the denim jacket I still had mixed feelings about, and left the pompous little bathroom.
     I strolled over to the master bedroom, reluctantly admiring the interior design of the home on my way. I sat down on the edge of the visibly expensive bed.
     I heard the front door open and close downstairs.
     "He's in the house," Uraraka said.
      "Got it," I mumbled.
      Footsteps on the stairs.
     "It's go time. Disconnect your communicator."
     "Yes, ma'am," I said. "Wish me luck."
     "You don't need luck."
     I smiled. I powered off the earpiece and shoved it into the pocket of my jeans. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I got into character.
     The bedroom door opened.
     "Don't move," a gravelly voice commanded.
     I turned over my shoulder to look at the man who'd entered the room, my eyes wide and fearful, brows knitted together with worry. The stony expression on his face morphed into mild confusion when he saw me. His arms, which had been outstretched and ready to fire off an explosive at the expense of his own bedroom, plopped down to his sides. He shrugged and walked away. He opened a door on the side of the room closest to him and went in.
     I was prepared for this reaction. As well as seven others.
     I got off of the bed and followed him into what turned out to be an unnecessarily large closet. He was calmly removing the clunky gauntlets from his hands.
     "Kacchan, I—"
     "Save it."
     "Kacchan, please just—"
     "Did I stutter?"
     I shut my mouth.
    Bakugo removed and put away his arm pieces. He glanced at me and scowled. I was pushed out of the closet. The door slammed shut in front of me.
     "Hm," I hummed thoughtfully to myself.
     I took a seat on the bed again.
     After a few minutes or so, Bakugo emerged from his giant fancy closet in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He glared at me.
     "Come on," he said as he headed towards the door that led to the rest of the house.
     I hopped off the bed and followed him out of the room. Bakugo took me downstairs to his kitchen, which was also giant and fancy.
     He motioned to a stool behind the counter. "Sit," he said.
     I did as I was told.
     Bakugo pulled a full bottle of wine out of his refrigerator and yanked it open. He proceeded to chug straight from the bottle for an impressively long stretch of time before exhaling loudly and shutting the refrigerator with his foot. He walked over to me, bottle still in hand. He picked up the chair next to me and brought it to the other side of the counter. He set down the bottle, plopped in the chair, and grunted out the word "Talk."
     "Okay..." I took a deep breath. "Four years ago, a girl followed me home from school."
     Bakugo took another swig from the wine bottle. "Bullshit."
     "Kacchan."
     "What?"
     "Can I finish, please?"
     "I don't know, can you?"
     "Maybe you should put the alcohol away."
     "Maybe you should shove a chainsaw up your ass."
     He took another long sip. The bottle was probably getting close to empty. I eyed him warily and continued.
     "Well, a girl followed me..." I waited to see if he was going to try and argue with me about that again. "...and she tricked me into going home with her. Her home turned out to be the League of Villains' hideout. They've been holding me captive for the last few years. I haven't been able to escape until now."
     "You seem pretty stable for someone who's been held hostage for half a decade."
     "I wasn't, like, tied up somewhere the whole time. They kept me on their property, but they didn't treat me like a hostage. They beat me up and messed with me and stuff, but it could have been worse."
     "You don't sound like my Deku."
     My Deku. Interesting.
     "Yeah, four years in captivity changed me a little bit."
     "I liked you better before."
     Bakugo tilted the bottle up to his mouth. He realized it was empty with a groan of frustration and chucked it at the wall. It whizzed past my head and shattered into pieces. I raised my eyebrows at him. He sneered at me.
     "Since when did you ever like me?" I asked.
     He rolled his eyes. "Don't ask stupid questions."
     He got up and pulled me off of the chair by the collar of my jacket.
     "Ow. Ow. Kacchan, ow," I protested as he dragged me along.
     "'oW. oW. kAcChAn, oW.' I was wrong. You do sound like my Deku."
     I smirked triumphantly to myself while he couldn't see. I suppressed the expression quickly and pulled myself back together.
     "Where are we going?" I asked.
     "I'm going upstairs. You..." He let go of my jacket and pushed me onto his living room couch. "...will be down here. Don't talk to me until tomorrow. Go to sleep. Don't leave," he said as he started to head up the stairs.
     "Kacchan?"
     He stopped and narrowed his eyes at me.
     "Thank you," I said.
     His eyes softened for a fraction of a second. He shook his head to himself with a scornful laugh.
     "Shut up," he muttered.
•••
     Knock. Knock. Knock.
     I knew Bakugo had a spare bedroom. As a matter of fact, I knew he had four spare bedrooms. Yet there I was on a scratchy loveseat in his living room.
     Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
     The only thing that separated the living room from the foyer was the power of imagination. So when someone was pounding on the front door at five o'clock in the morning, I heard it.
     Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
     I tossed the throw blanket off and lethargically rose from the sofa. There was a small closet with jackets and other clothing garments near the door. I opened it and took out the cap and sunglasses I'd made a mental note of during my earlier survey of the premises. I put them on, as well as one of Bakugo's coats just for fun, and walked over to the door. I looked through the peephole and smiled.
     Reporters.
     I unlocked and opened the door.
     The woman who had been knocking so insistently opened her mouth to say something and stopped. Her eyes lit up with the feral look of a journalist who at long last found the story they were searching for.
     "Kisha Kifujin, JNN. Would you mind telling us your name and relationship to Ground Zero?" she babbled.
     "Oh, I don't think that's such a good idea. I'd rather him make the announcement when he's ready. If you guys wouldn't mind keeping it down, I'd really appreciate it - he's still asleep. Thanks!"
     I shut the door.
   Have fun with that, vultures.
•••
    There was a loud crash upstairs.
     "DEKU!"
     I bit my lip against a laugh. I blinked rapidly and blew out a breath to collect my bearings. Bakugo stomped down the stairs and through the living room. I turned around in my chair. He stormed into the kitchen with his cell phone in hand.
     "Good morning, Kacchan," I said calmly.
     "Oh, you shut the fuck up right now. What the hell is this?!"
     He leaned one hand beside my bowl of cereal on the counter and held up his phone in front of my face with the other. I had to reach up and hold it myself because he was shaking with rage to such an extent that I couldn't see the screen. It was a news article.
     "Ground Zero's Green-Haired New Bae - Or Should We Say, BABE😍" the title read.
     "Oh... shit," I groaned.
     I turned back around to prop my elbow up on the counter and cover my forehead with my hand.
     "Damn it. I should have..." I sighed in frustration. "I'm so sorry, Kacchan."
     "Yeah, you fucking should be!"
     "I know. I know. I feel terrible. I should have been more careful."
     "No shit, dumbass."
     "I didn't know they'd interpret what I said that way."
     "Wait. You said something?!"
     "Yeah. Isn't that what this is about?"
     I looked up at him. His wrathful eyes were darting back and forth across the screen. The longer this went on, the more perceivable his convulsions became. His fury culminated in a strident roar as he turned and chucked his phone at the wall like a baseball pitcher. He stared at his shattered device, panting.
     "Kacchan, you haven't even cleaned up the glass from last night yet. Your kitchen floor is becoming a safety hazard."
     "You're a safety hazard."
     Bakugo made a breathy sound of irritation and walked over to his fridge. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and slammed the fridge shut. He uncapped the bottle and tilted it up to his mouth.
     "How old are you?" I asked skeptically.
     He paused to glower at me before chugging down the liquid.
     "I'm pretty sure we're the same age, Kacchan. I'm not old enough to drink, so I know you aren't either."
     "You show up at my house and lie to my face about where you've been for the past four years. Then you go and make the roaches think I'm gay, and now you're trying to take my vodka. You know what, Izuku? I've had just about enough of your shit."
     My blood went cold.
     "Don't call me that."
     "Huh?"
     "The name you just said. Don't use it."
     "Oh, so Deku is fine, but your actual name isn't?"
     "Yes."
     "What's wrong with you?" Bakugo mumbled.
     He shook his head, left the bottle on the counter, and walked out of the kitchen.
     After he was gone, I grabbed it and took a long, much needed sip.
     I got up to rinse out my bowl of soggy cereal in the sink and put it, and the spoon, in Bakugo's giant fancy dishwasher.
     Shortly thereafter, Bakugo treaded heavily down the stairs. I left the kitchen to find him. He was in the foyer, dressed, getting ready to go somewhere.
     "Where are you going?" I asked.
     "To buy a new phone," he grumbled.
     He threw open the front door and left in a huff.
     I took the earpiece out of the pocket of my jeans and put it in my ear. I reached up to it.
     "Buttercup for HQ," I said.
     "Sonic receiving," Iida replied.
     "ODP6 effective. I will proceed."