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kirishima plops the bag of ingredients on their kitchen table with a dramatic sigh and pulls out a chair to sit down. "i didn't know what brand of vanilla extract to get because a specific someone didn't come with me."
katsuki shrugs and rifles through the bag.
"someone's gotta make sure the delivery man doesn't fuckin' chuck our package onto our porch. you've seen the way people throw them. brutal.” he shakes his head and holds up the boxed extract. “anyway, look, you got the right one. congrats, loser."
"i'm not a loser! i picked the right one! don't i deserve a kiss, or something?" kirishima pouts. "also, why does it really matter what brand it is? it all tastes the same in the end," he mutters, plucking the ingredient away to set it next to all the other ingredients they’ll need later.
katsuki rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and gives his boyfriend a quick peck on the lips. "shut up. fuckin' hair for brains." katsuki turns to the cupboards to retrieve the bowls and measuring cups, and kirishima rummages through the plastic bags he set down.
”ah,” he says. “here they are!”
”here what are?’ katusi mumbles, looking at the recipe and getting another egg from the fridge.
kirishima just slowly pulls two pink, polka-dotted aprons out of the bag, and when katsuki doesn’t get a response, he turns around to find his stupid boyfriend holding out the atrocities with a grin spread wide across his face.
the blond’s face is momentarily neutral until his mind finally registers what the two abominations actually are, and then his expression quickly morphs into one of complete disgust. “where in hell’s name did you find these," he waves his arm around in the direction of the aprons in pure disgust, "these things.”
grin still plastered on that stupidly adorable face of his, kirishima offers one of the offending articles of clothing to katsuki and shrugs. “not important!”
”i… i am not wearing this shit,” katsuki responds, pushing the apron back towards his boyfriend.
”no? not even for me?” pleads kirishima, eyes big and fakely innocent.
”especially not for you,” he remarks.
”ugh, but they’d be so MANLY,” the redhead tries, scrunching his face in the way that katsuki secretly thinks is one of most precious things he’s ever seen. “please, we’d look adorable. please, please, please wear them, katsuki, please please please pl -”
”alright,” katsuki exasperatedly agrees, snatching the garment from kirishima’s hands. “i’ll wear the thing, just -- stop talking,” he grumbles, shoving his head through the neck of the apron.
kirishima grins triumphantly, pleasantly surprised by the fact that it took such little time to wear katsuki down. the man’s grown soft. he likes it, and it makes him extremely happy. “great!” he pulls the apron over his head and successfully manages to tie a droopy bow in the back with the thick strings hanging from the apron.
katsuki, however, has somehow managed to knot his strings in such a way that one of his fingers was caught, and made it worse when he frustratedly tried to undo it.
the redhead laughs and raises an eyebrow, making his way over to his struggling boyfriend. "you need help there, man?"
katsuki fumes as his mind grapples for words. "no, uh -- buddy," he finishes, inwardly kicking himself for that poorly chosen set of words.
kirishima just laughs again. "okay, pal." he surreptitiously pulls his phone out from under his apron and snaps a few photos, smirking.
yeah, those are definitely going on instagram later.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
"one tablespoon vanilla extract," reads kirishima.
katsuki falters, eyebrows furrowed.
"no, one teaspoon vanilla extract," he corrects, tapping the instructions repeatedly with his finger. "are you trying to make it taste like shit?"
"hey now," kirishima says with cheeky placation. "these will taste amazing no matter what. why? because we made them with love,” he finishes, clasping his hands together and making a very punchable face.
katsuki scoffs.
"the only thing that will be amazing about them is that you managed to make 'em taste so fuckin' bad," the blond snarks.
the other huffs. "rude."
"but true," katsuki adds.
to that, kirishima can only nod in solemn agreement, and they continue on with the recipe.
"so," katsuki starts, clapping his hands and putting them on his hips. he surveys the counter and looks at the recipe again. "we need to mix the coconut, extract, and milk together in a bowl," he reads, collecting the items and grouping them together.
"i wanna do that," kirishima says, grabbing a medium-sized metal bowl and sidling up to katsuki.
"oh, i mean, that's fine," katsuki says, and moves down to read the next step of the recipe.
while kirishima measures out and mixes the ingredients, katsuki fishes out an electric mixer from the back of the cupboard above their fridge and plugs it in. he cracks two eggs and mixes them into a measured bowl of salt, waiting until stiff peaks form, which the recipe calls for. he reads on.
"kiri, how do you fold in an egg white?" he inquires, eyebrows creasing at the absurdity he's never read before in his life.
"uh," the redhead responds, looking at the recipe himself. "you just - you fold them," he explains dumbly.
"yeah i just read that, i just. how do fold egg whites into a mixture?" he reiterates, rereading the instructions.
kirishima crosses his arms, and his eye twitches unnoticeably. "you fold them," he says with more conviction (and a smile), like that's supposed to change anything and make more sense.
"yeah, okay, kirishima, but how do i --" his hands make vague gestures, having long since put down the mixer in favor of trying to get his question across.
"you f-"
"i love you, but if you tell me to fold them one more time, i will lose my mind. how the fuck am i supposed to fold them? do i tuck them into bed? sing them a lullaby?" he widens his eyes, waiting for an answer.
"no, you just ..." the redhead's voice lowers to a whisper. "fold...... them........"
"HOW AM I SUPP -"
--
"and that's how you fold egg whites," the woman's voice says cheerily. the video ends with some generic ukulele strum, and katsuki shuts his phone off and places it facedown on the kitchen island.
"okay, so. folding the egg whites." katsuki returns to the egg whites and folds them to the best of his ability.
"nice job, man," kirishima says, patting his back wholeheartedly.
"shut up," the blond counters, continuing on with stirring the two mixes together.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
burnt puddles of coconut sit on a cookie sheet on top of the stove. both men stare silently for a while.
”so…”
"so..."
"i do not think this is how they were supposed to look," kirishima says quietly.
katsuki grunts.
a pregnant pause between the two, or a moment of silence for the botched baked goods.
"maybe ... maybe they'll taste ... good?" kirishima
"no," katsuki says. "they will taste like burnt ass."
kirishima ponders for a moment and then reaches over, unsticking the confection from the sheet. taking a napkin from the kitchen island, he holds it under the burnt blob so as not to get crumbs on the floor. he grimaces quietly, and pops it into his mouth. it crunches, which is not what normal, unburnt coconut macaroons should do.
"mmm," kirishima hums, crunching slowly. "sho delishush." he sticks a thumb up and makes a smile that is full of what can only be true pain.
"we failed at making macaroons..." katsuki mutters. "how the fuck do you fail at that? what the fuck?"
"maybe we folded them incorrectly," kirishima supplies, crunching on another one. "or we over-mixed them..."
"are those not fucking horrible?" katsuki asks, dumbfounded.
"no, yeah, they're really bad. i'm just hungry and i really wanted these to come out well, so i was hoping if i ate them enough, my mind would accept them as what they were supposed to be." he munches. "i - ow," he says, immediately opening his mouth and letting the rest of what he'd eaten fall out on the napkin.
katsuki makes a face at him and the discarded piece of space junk.
"a crunchy part poked the roof of my mouth," he explains, running his tongue over the injured spot. he idly wraps up his creation in the napkin and holds it in his fist. "like a dorito chip," he trails off, engrossed in soothing his wound with his tongue.
"ha! that's what you get," katsuki chuckled.
kirishima merely smiles.
"let's go get something to eat," katsuki says, going around the kitchen to pick up the used kitchen utensils and placing them in the sink. "i'll clean those later," he grunts, wiping off the counters with a clorox wipe.
"'kay," kirishia agrees, throwing away the crumpled napkin into the trash and washing his hands. "maybe we can try this another time?"
"probably, yeah. just not macaroons. and not with these aprons," he grumbles, lifting his apron up over his head.
his boyfriend simpers. "wait, i wanna get a pic of us," he pleads, pulling his phone out again.
"what? in these aprons? no," katsuki grumbles.
"i will keep begging until it happens," kirishima warns lightheartedly. (he wouldn't take a picture if katsuki really didn't want him to. well, no, he just wouldn't post it on social media. he'd probably keep it in the my eyes only part of snapchat, or something like that.)
katsuki rolls his eyes again for the umpteenth time (he does it a lot, and there was no end to it when kirishima dropped two uncooked macaroon balls and almost dropped two more). "fine," he acquiesces.
"yes!" kirishima pumps his fist in success, and katsuki hides a small, soft smile behind his hand in favor of pretending to wipe something off his face.
"okay," kirishima says, tapping the screen to focus on them. he pulls katsuki close. "let's take some pictures with filters and some without," he says, already smiling for the first one.
"fuck off," katsuki says, flipping off the camera.
"perfect," the redhead says, looking at the photo fondly and saving it to his camera roll.
this goes on for several seconds, katsuki making much less than happy expression, balanced out by kirishima's radiant smile, and every photo is saved. even the one where katsuki was smiling for half a second because kirishima almost tripped trying to grab katsuki's phone to take pictures on his, too.
109 pictures later, katsuki slaps the phone out of his boyfriend's hand (it fell in his lap) and kisses him, hands cupping his face. kirishima's arms wrap around the blond's torso, pulling him closer. it was a sweet kiss, and both melt in each other's arms.
when they pull away, they look at each other with love for about eight seconds until katsuki's mind returns from the clouds and reclaims his trademark attitude. "you're dumb. i love you. stupid." he kisses him again.
when they pull apart for the second time, kirishima beams and takes the blond's hand in his. "i love you, too."