Izuku Midoriya | Pro-Hero AU | 172732014

Domestic Disaster

You paced the kitchen in the apartment for a while, making sure to cover every facet of the task at hand. It felt extremely daunting when you realised just how much time, resources, and preparation was required for the feat you were about to embark on. You almost wondered how anyone could go through this multiple times. It felt like you were back in school, going through all of those exams again. That feeling in the pit of your stomach, like a rock was placed in there to weigh you down.

You took a deep breath, reaching out to begin the process and embark on something that was way above your league - measuring the amounts of flour required to start.

Cooking, let alone baking, was outside of your skillset. Though you were the most precise person out on the field, whether for police assistance, or your own Pro Hero work, the kitchen flew way over your head. You've made simple dishes, ones that you would get by during your school years, but this was why Midoriya was always the cook at home, and you settled with just cleaning the mess afterwards as per your agreement in the household.

While you continued to measure the ingredients, beginning to put them together, the thought of the result welled up inside. You hoped by the time Midoriya was home from his day that you would at least have a cake ready for him.

"Okay, you can do this," you murmured while you eyed the clock. You read the recipe, made sure you had ample time to bake, and in hopes that you were exact, cooking was the next task. The thought of it was chilling.

"I mean, you undergo law enforcement procedures, you're great under pressure, you certainly can calculate all of your variables when making the perfect shot," you spoke aloud, reassuring yourself while you mixed the batter. "How hard could baking be?"

You felt your heart race. You couldn't tell whether you were excited, nervous, or panicking. That was until you started the stand mixer.

You immediately grabbed for your phone, dialing the one number you trusted that could help you in this predicament.

"Hello?" spoke Inko from the other line.

"Hi, Mrs. Midoriya," you spoke, slightly frantic yet attempting to compose yourself in your tone. "I hope I'm not interrupting you."

"Not at all. What is it?"

You hesitated, looking at your once immaculate preparation station, eyeing the mixer as if it were a creature from some unknown dimension. "I was hoping you could keep me company... while I'm... in the kitchen." Your voice slowed to a halt, realising how pathetic you sounded over the phone. Keep you company? You berated yourself in your mind for the lame excuse. Truth be told, you panicked.

A light-hearted giggle erupted from the other end, only causing your face to fluster further.

"How far did you get through my recipe?" spoke Inko, as if she read your mind.

"As far as the... spinny thing," you described with very little clarity. "The thing that mixes."

"Oh, the mixer?" Inko corrected, causing you to slap your hand to your forehead. Of course, it was called a mixer.

"Yeah," you sighed in defeat. "I'm... the proverbial fish out of water. I'm not in my element. I... I need help."

All you were met with was a jovial laugh on the other end. You loved Inko. Ever since you first met Midoriya's mother, you immediately could tell where he got his mannerisms from, but also, where he adopted his charm and his sincerity.

"Put me on speaker and we can run through it together," she suggested, while you immediately did as she instructed, placing your phone on the counter. "So, where are you up to?"