(Sin)namon Rolls

Chapter 4: Deku: Mistress of Evil

Bakugo came through the door with a plastic bag in hand - his new phone, I assumed.
"Took you long enough," I yelled from the living room.
"It's not my fault some kid thought it'd be funny to play by the subway. Fucker should've known he'd get stuck in the tracks," he retorted.
"But you saved him? That's sweet, Kacchan."
I could see him shaking his head as he hung his coat up in the closet.
"Tch. Whatever. Anyway, you and I need to talk."
"About what?"
"About what the fuck is going on here."
Bakugo crossed the foyer and came up behind me to lean on the armrest my head was propped against. He peered down at me. I looked up at him and smiled gently.
"Okay," I said.
"But first you gotta change. And take a shower. You look like shit."
"Thanks, Kacchan."
"Fuck off. Come on."
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me off the sofa.
"You know, you could just say 'follow me'."
"Or I could kick you out of my house. Stop whining."
•••
Bakugo had tossed a sweatshirt and pajama pants at me and physically pushed me into his bathroom. He then shut the door behind me and yelled "This isn't a favor. I'm doing this because you smell like ass!" from the other side. The choice of pajama pants was odd, given that it was 5PM. But it wasn't like I had anywhere to go so I didn't complain.
The hoodie's front pocket was too capacious, so I nabbed a piece of packaging tape from a roll in Bakugo's closet and affixed the earpiece to the center of my chest. It would hurt to take off later, but having my cover blown would hurt a whole hell of a lot more.
I came downstairs after I'd showered and changed to find Bakugo sitting at the kitchen counter. In front of him sat a bottle of gin.
"I thought you said we were gonna talk," I said as I sat down on the stool across from him.
He didn't seem to understand my puzzlement. I gave a pointed glance to the alcohol. He squinted at me. I nodded to the bottle again.
"What? What is that?" Bakugo inquired.
"I didn't know talking also included drinking."
"It does if you're not a fucking loser."
"Okay," I acquiesced through a sigh.
"Listen up, bitch. We're gonna ask each other some motherfucking questions. You don't answer one, you drink. That's how the game goes. You got that, assrag?"
"Uh huh."
"Alright, first question: How did you find my address?"
"Internet," I said. "How did you get this alcohol?"
"You mean, like, this bottle?"
"All of it, Kacchan. All of it."
Bakugo raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue as he reached for the liquor. He took a swig from the bottle. He set it down and wiped his sleeve over his mouth. I shook my head in disappointment. He rolled his eyes.
"Why did you come to my house? Why my house and not someone else's?"
"I trust you."
Bakugo guffawed.
"Why?" he asked.
"You don't get to ask two questions in one go. It's my turn. What happened to you?"
"What the fuck kind of question is that?"
"A reasonable one."
"Be more specific," he snarled.
He was starting to get angry. I wanted him to get upset. People are always less inclined to tell the truth when they're calm.
"You're an alcoholic. All you do is sulk around in sweatpants all day. You're furious. All the time. But not like you used to be. You have a reason now. What is it? Why are you so angry, Kacchan?"
Bakugo scoffed. "Fuck you."
"That's not an—"
"Would you shut up for one goddamn second?"
I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair. Bakugo sighed loudly.
"The reason I'm so mad... why I'm so... hurt... is because... well, it's because... a bitch ass broccoli-looking bug-eyed nerd won't leave me the hell alone."
He dodged the question. That alone gave me plenty of information.
"Drink up, funny man," I said.
"Gladly."
Bakugo took another sip from the bottle.
"Why can't I call you Izuku?" he asked.
My upper lip curled. I clenched my jaw. I inhaled slowly. I glared at him with narrowed eyes.
"Because that's not my name."
"Jesus, what are you on? Your name isn't Deku. That's just what I call you. No one else gets to call you that. You hear me? Your name is Izuku Midoriya. That's your name. That's your real, legal name."
"Fine. If that's the way you want things to be, then okay, Katsuki."
"No. Hell no. Fuck off with that shit."
"Only if you do the same."
"Yeah. Sure. Fine. Just don't do that again."
He didn't like when I called him something other than Kacchan. There was a lot to unpack with that, wasn't there?
"That wasn't an answer," Bakugo noted.
I leaned over the counter to grab the gin. I brought the bottle up to my mouth and swallowed some of the liquid. I set it back down with a grimace. After I'd recovered, I propped my elbow up on the counter and rested my chin in the palm of my hand.
"Why did you let me stay?" I asked.
Bakugo frowned.
"I thought I told you not to ask stupid questions," he said.
He looked at me. I looked back. The fire in his eyes momentarily abated.
"You really are an idiot."
I knew there was something I was missing. Was it a forgotten memory or something I just wasn't picking up on? Operation Defuse was never dependent on Bakugo allowing me to stay with him. If he had decided to kick me out when I first showed up, members of the League were on standby ready to assist me in taking him hostage. Assassination had been an option as well. It still was. Everything was relative to his actions. My next move would be determined by his reasoning for granting me refuge. Whether he told me what that was himself or not didn't matter. One way or another, I'd figure him out.
"Freckles," he said.
"What?"
"Your freckles. Same number. Same places. That's how I knew it was really you."
"You memorized my freckles?"
"Don't make it weird."
I laughed and waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not! I'm not. I just... that's cute, Kacchan."
"Making it weird!"
"Oh, c'mon. You counted them? That's precious."
"Fuck off!"
"You act all tough but you're just a softie, aren't you?"
"I'll knock a few of those freckles off your fucking face if you don't shut your mouth."
"Okay! I'll stop."
I sucked my lips in in an attempt to hide my smile.
"Smug bastard," Bakugo muttered.
You have no idea, I thought.
I was overjoyed. He had a soft spot. And that soft spot was me. This mission was going to be a breeze. The possibilities were endless. Oh, there were so many wonderful ways that I could fuck with this man. I could make him miserable. I could make him happier than he'd ever been in his pathetic life and then rip the rug out from under him when he least expected it. I could make him scream. In pain. In ecstasy. In terror. In aggravation. He'd do anything I wanted and all I had to do was ask. Bakugo was no longer just a target. Oh, no. This fool was about to be my bitch. Someday he would have to be eliminated. Someday. Until then, I'd be making the most of my hero with benefits.
"Well, it's your turn. Ask away," I said.
"Why'd you cut your hair?"
"You don't like it?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you thought it."
"No, it's fine. It's good. You look hot. Wait, fuck. Oh, god. What have I done? I meant you look like shit. That's what I meant. Fuck."
I just laughed.
"It got too hard to manage," I said.
Bakugo nodded with a pained expression on his face.
"You aren't straight, are you?" I asked.
"What? Why would you think—?"
"Cut the bullshit, Kacchan. You just had a stroke because you accidentally gave me a compliment."
"Yeah... alright, you got me."
"That's what I thought."
"I haven't... I'm not... I haven't told people yet."
Woo! Deku scores again!
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because I don't want my career to end."
I was laughing maniacally on the inside.
"How do you know it would be that bad?"
"I just do."
"Mm."
You'll see just how bad it'll be soon enough, Katsuki.