Bakugou is used to dealing with customers who use what the fuck ever kind of names they could think of to place on their cup. He’s used to this kind of idiocy, really. But this?? This??? This is a whole another level of stupidity—

“One Vanilla Latte for… ‘Your Smile, Please?’”

Bakugou has never been good in dealing with customers, so he chooses to deal with making some /pretty damn good/ coffee and avoid any customer interactions as much as he can—well that just means he has to deal with making the coffee AND giving the coffee to customers.

He doesn’t really understand what use is there in changing your name in your cup of coffee. The stupidity varies from using superhero names, their favorite anime character, and K-Pop idols, really?? (And so what if he’s familiar with these idols who the fuck cares.)

He’s used to this stupidity, but whoever requested “Your Smile, Please?” as their name is a whole another level of stupid. He takes a glance at Pinky who’s in charge as the cashier right now and rolls his eyes when he sees her wink at him. This must be her damn idea.

Rare are the times when Bakugou has peaceful duties in the coffee shop. If you have annoying Pinky in the counter and a good yet dumb for anything else blonde barista, then every fucking time is a disaster. Who would’ve thought that Pinky will up her game and involve a customer?

He hisses as he waits for a customer to claim the coffee—a stupidly too bright customer at that wearing yellow Hawaiian shirt in the middle of fucking Tokyo. Great.

“Hey, uh, thanks!” He utters before a smile way too bright for this morning was thrown at Bakugou.

Bright. Too bright it’s gonna kill him. He raises a brow as he scans the face of this Hawaiian shit—he’s familiar so he must be a regular at this coffee shop. If someone like Bakugou who immediately erases someone’s existence on his mind remembers him, then he must be a regular.

If he’s a regular then he must be using his own name before, right? Because this is certainly the first time Pinky pulled a damn prank like this. Thing is—Bakugou never really cared about the names written on the cups (they’re stupid) so he can’t hope to remember his name.

He closes his eyes for a moment, tries to calm himself down, slows down his thoughts, and does what he does best when dealing with customers—mutter an insincere thanks and turn his back on them to make another stupidly great coffee.

“Uhm, okay. See you soon, bro!”

Apparently, soon means the next morning under the guise of another Vanilla Latte.

“One Vanilla Latte for…” goddammit this is so fucking stupid.

“For ‘Your eyes are so pretty’” he mutters almost inaudibly, but the same shitty redhead went towards him as quick as he can.

The redhead grabs the latte with the same bright smile and Bakugou can only wish he will go away immediately because he’s already reached his talking-to-people maximum capacity when Soysauce face, despite being off duty, went to visit them all earlier.

“Why do you never wear your name tag?”

The doof asks, as if it isn’t so obvious that Bakugou never wears is name tag because he never liked this—the talking to customers part and them calling him by his name.

He could just do what he usually does best—turn his back again after muttering an insincere thanks. He’s not required to answer any questions anyway, but if he does then maybe fucker would finally fucking stop bothering him.

“Customers don’t need to know it.”

He takes a deep breath before turning his back on the redhead and taking a look at the next coffee which he needs to make. As soon as he starts preparing, Bakugou feels calm once again. The bitterness which makes him feel like drowning is all too comforting at the same time.

This is why he can never leave the coffee shop. This is where he feels safe, calm and the only place for him to handle his messed-up mind.

Amidst the smell of coffee, wooden floor, and little noises from chatters of the customers with stupid fucking names on their stupid cups—

Well, stupid fucking names which now escalated to

‘You’re so manly!’

‘Your coffee is the best!’

‘Hope you didn’t forget your umbrella.’

‘You look good in blue!’

Seriously, Bakugou can only handle three stupid people and those spots are already taken.

And fuck, he’s not looking forward to all these silly little messages on the cup, okay?

So when the redhead once again orders the same damn coffee he just says “One stupid Vanilla Latte.”

The redhead—who’s wearing a decent black shirt for once in his life—looks like a kicked puppy with what he heard.

“Hey! You didn’t read it.”

“Or you can just let that Pinky over there to write your goddamn name on the cup, shitty hair.”

The redhead looks astounded at the sudden nickname provided.

“First of all, we have the same hairstyle! Second, it’s unfair if I use my name.”

“Huh?”

“Well, you never really wear your name tag so I don’t know your name. It’s unfair if you get to know mine.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll even remember your name.”

Okay, Bakugou knows he IS an asshole most of the time, but he never really thought the dejected look on that face who he thought only knows how to be bright will make him feel like a jerk. Well, maybe he IS a jerk.

So he does what he thinks normal people do during this situation—ask for an apology using a cookie.

“W-What..”

“Just fuckin’ accept it or whatever.” He utters while trying to stay and look calm because he’s pretty sure he can feel the heat on his cheeks rising.

“Thanks for this cookie, Blasty!”

Now he’s also got a stupid fucking nickname—

But he figures if the smile on that redhead’s face is back, then he probably doesn’t mind.

Saturday afternoons are usually spent on the confines of chemistry laboratory—mixing chemicals and waiting for the scientific reaction before jutting it down on his notebook (he’s not a nerd, a student just needs to take some goddamn notes thank you very much).

But his class has been cancelled so here he stays on his comfort zone—amidst the smell of coffee, wooden floor, and little noises from chatters of the customers with stupid fucking names on their stupid cups—

and stupidly bright grin all too blinding for one Saturday afternoon inside a coffee shop.

“Blasty! It’s weird to see you as a customer!”

Bakugou rolls his eyes before taking a glance at the redhead who sits nonchalantly across from him while already sipping on his cup and—

“What’s this?”

“A cup of coffee? Denki says that’s your blend!”

Bakugou shifts his gaze towards the barista and he’s met with a wink from the blond. He rolls his eyes at him before taking a sip on his cup. Before he even fishes out his wallet, the redhead props his elbows on the table and looks at the ash blond as if he’s expecting something.

“What? I’m paying you, don’t worry.”

“No!!”

Bakugou raises his brow at the sudden outburst.

“I-I mean, no. I just need to be your friend, y’know!” He says in his as-a-matter-of-fact kind of voice like he’s just asking for a candy.

“Why the fuck do you even want to be my friend? Is that what those pranks are all about?”

A sharp gasp falls from the redhead’s lips, as if he’s offended by Bakugou’s words.

“Those aren’t pranks! I meant all of those!”

“And why would you mean all of those?”

“I’m trying to be one! Your friend I mean.”

“Capacity overload. I’ve only got three spots and those are already taken by those idiots.” He says before nodding towards the counter, pointing out his three—well, fuck it—friends.

The redhead sighs /dramatically/, what with all those slumping his shoulders and pouting his lips. Pouting. Those. Fucking. Plump. Lips.

Oh god he did not just think that those lips are plump fucking fuck.

“Then how am I supposed to know your name now?”

Bakugou is so goddamn lost in this conversation and he blames it on those distracting lips.

“What?”

“Well, customers aren’t supposed to know your name! But friends do, right? I mean, Denki knows your name, but I won’t let him tell me!” He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the table while thinking—like it’s one of the hardest fucking questions he’s ever encountered.

“You…are an idiot.”

Bakugou snorts as he tries to hold back his laughter. This idiot is too cute for his sanity’s sake dammit. He doesn’t even know what the fuck does this redhead sees in him which makes him want to befriend him—

Bakugou Katsuki. One who explodes if you so much as touch the tip of his finger. The redhead’s just like those three idiots who probably placed a potion in one of the coffee he drank because he doesn’t remember how they fell into the spots of being his friends.

And if he wants this redhead to be his friend—then he blames it on the potion which Denki probably placed on his coffee as some sort of prank.

Apparently, coffee tells you a lot more than you think it would—or maybe he just pays too much attention on the redhead than he normally should.

When he’s having a /really/ great time he normally orders frappe instead of his usual coffee, but he always ends up requesting for Nonfat milk on his coffee the next day because he feels guilty about the additional calories taken from the frappe.

When the redhead feels down, he usually orders a coffee too bitter for his own taste. When he’s tired, he orders more carbs alongside his coffee. When he’s too bummed because he can’t get a damn equation right, he orders his coffee with more vanilla pumps than he normally does.

But among all the redhead’s coffee choices, Bakugou likes it when he makes vanilla latte—it only means nothing is wrong and the world is at peace yet again.

“One Vanilla Latte, Shitty Hair.”

Somewhere along the way, the short messages which the redhead likes to write as his name for the cup becomes something which Bakugou would like to stay between them—

And so fucking what if Mina knows it anyway because she writes it on the damn cup. Point is, he doesn’t really want to announce it to the whole coffee shop when the redhead tells him to have a good day.

“One Vanilla Latte, Shitty Hair.”

Or when the redhead tells him that he wants to watch a movie with him.

“One Vanilla Latte, Shitty Hair.”

Or when the redhead tells him that they should go to the festival on the 24th.

“One Vanilla Latte, Shitty Hair.”

Or when the redhead tells him that they should play smash bros at the redhead’s place more often.

“One Vanilla Latte, Shitty Hair.”

Or when the redhead tells him that he looks hot with his stud earrings on.

“One Vanilla Latte, Shitty Hair.”

Or when the redhead tells him that he should come by for dinner because his moms are coming.

“One Vanilla Latte, Shitty Hair.”

Or when the redhead tells him that—

Bakugou looks at Shitty Hair who’s waiting expectantly at the other end of the counter, face flushed and looking anywhere else but Bakugou.

The pale blonde takes another glance at what’s written on the cup because he sure as hell didn't notice it when he was making the coffee.

‘I like you.’

Did he just...fucking receive...a confession??

A FUCKING CONFESSION OVER A STUPID CUP OF COFFEE?

Amidst all the chaos inside Bakugou's mind, he manages to grab a new cup, scribble something on it before making another cup of Vanilla Latte—one he’s so used to making he can probably make it his eyes closed and it will be perfect.

“One Vanilla Latte, Shitty Hair.”

He utters before pushing the cup towards the redhead already waiting for him. He’s never really been good in dealing with customers—damn he’s never been good in dealing with feelings. So he answers the confession in the best and probably only way he knows—

‘Bakugou Katsuki’

“B-Bakugou Katsuki?”

The redhead utters and god if he only knew how fucking good it would feel like when he hears his name against the redhead’s lips, he would’ve told him his name a million years ago.

“Boyfriends know each other’s name, right?”

Thing is, they probably have gone through this whole relationship thing a little backwards. Who gets to know a person's interest or favorites or personality before they even get to know each other’s names?

But then again, who the fuck cares?

“Mine’s Kirishima Eijirou! It’s nice to finally know your name, Katsuki!”

This is why he can never leave the coffee shop. This is where he feels safe, calm and the only place for him to handle his messed-up mind.

Amidst the smell of coffee, wooden floor, and little noises from chatters of the customers with stupid fucking names on their stupid cups—

But now more than ever, Bakugou thinks maybe those fucking names on the cups aren’t so stupid, after all.