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Katsuki had a late shift. Izuku particularly hates it when Katsuki has a late shift, because it means he’s not around to make dinner. Usually, it wouldn’t be a problem, since Izuku kept a couple of quick meals in the fridge that he could just heat up if need be. But he’d run out, and he hadn’t restocked.
The moral of the story? He was screwed.
Izuku stood in front of the open cupboard, arms crossed and eyes focused. He would find something easy. Something that was impossible to screw up, Izuku could vividly imagine Katsuki’s wrath if something happened to his precious kitchen. His attachment to this specific room of their apartment was borderline weird.
Izuku spotted the teriyaki sauce on the top shelf and pulled it down, placing it on the counter. He rummaged through the fridge to grab the uncooked chicken breast that Katsuki had yet to make. This would be easy. All he had to do was put it on a pan and heat it up over the stove.
He started with the part he was good at. He cut all the excess fat off the chicken, then rinsed the rice he’d taken out and put it in the rice cooker, adding water. The rice cooker was Izuku’s favorite thing in the whole kitchen. It did all the work for you, and the rice tasted amazing every time. No stress, no hard work, great results. Izuku loves putting extra effort into everything he does, but sometimes, he just needs a break.
Izuku started humming to himself, a song that had played on the radio earlier. It was annoyingly catchy.
The stove heated up relatively fast, meaning Izuku could finally start the actual cooking. He pushed down the doubt that started to rise in the back of his mind.
“Chicken, chicken, chicken,” he chanted. He poured some oil into the hot pan and then turned around to collect the meat, picking up the whole cutting board to slide it into the pan on the stove. He did the maneuver with ease. The slight hint of dread he’d been feeling started slipping away. He didn’t want it to season his chicken with its pessimism.
He didn’t season his chicken.
“Oh, shit,” he hissed. He looked at the chicken with remorse, internally scolding himself for forgetting the most important step. He looked at the array of spices that Katsuki kept meticulously lined up on the counter. The salt was almost calling to him.
Not letting the void of regret consume him, he returned his attention to the stove. He poked at it with a fork, causing the chicken to shift a few centimeters in the pan.
“Oh, shit!” he yelled again. The hot oil made contact with his skin, stinging the few spots on his arms that were victims to the spray. He sucked in a breath, holding it as he walked away from the stove. He leaned against the counter, questioning his ability to continue. He patted his arms lightly as the sharp pains went away. He reached over to fidget with the speaker on the counter, turning it on so he could connect his phone. The song in his mind wouldn’t disappear, and it would be a good distraction from any more potential failures.
Izuku sniffed the air, confused by the potent smell of smoke. He turned, heat washing over his body as he faced the stove. Orange and yellow flames danced across his field of vision.
He should have just left the apartment and blamed it on an electrical issue. That would be much easier to explain than this.
“Oh my god!” Izuku yelled. He froze, unsure of what to do next. Where’s the fire extinguisher? Do they have a fire extinguisher? Izuku scrambled around the kitchen, throwing open cabinet doors in desperate search for a fire extinguisher. Calling the fire department was going to be a last resort.
His eardrums were assaulted by the sound of the fire alarm, meaning every single apartment in their complex now knew there was a fire. He hurriedly opened a window, hoping some of the smoke would reroute itself and stop suffocating him. His lungs were on fire, and so was their kitchen. Katsuki was going to fucking kill him.
“Water? Water,” Izuku muttered, trying to calm the immense panic that was taking over him. The fire department was probably already on their way, embarrassingly enough, but Izuku wanted to stop the fire now. He filled up a cup that was discarded on the counter and got a safe distance away from the flames. He was going to save their apartment.
The fire had already spread to the cupboards above the stove, and would continue to cause damage if he didn’t do anything. Taking a deep breath, he tossed the water onto the pan.
“Oh my fucking god, no!” he screamed. The water caused the oil to spill over the sides of the pan. It hit the floor, spreading the flames onto the flooring that covered the kitchen. He vaguely remembered a fire safety video he’d watched that said not to put water on a grease fire.
His will to live kicked in as he heard the sirens down the street and he booked it for the door. He yanked it open, and had never in his life appreciated a breath of fresh air more than in that moment. His heart was racing and sweat dripped down his forehead. He could feel a lump rising in his throat. This was, as Katsuki would say, really fucking bad.
–
“What in the actual fuck happened to my kitchen?” Katsuki screeched. He got home from his class about a half hour later. Izuku was still standing outside the door, but they had been able to get the fire under control pretty quickly. There wasn’t as much damage as Izuku thought, it was more just scalding and burn marks than things that actually had to be repaired. Nothing a coat of paint couldn’t fix.
“I wanted to make dinner,” Izuku said weakly, still shaken.
“What did you try to make?”
“Chicken.”
“...Just chicken?”
“Just chicken.”
“Never step foot in my fucking kitchen ever again.”