Chapter Text
Tuesday mornings were never fun.
Every Tuesday there was an office meeting from 9 am till 2 pm.
Every time without fail, Bakugo Katsuki would leave the room in a huff after shouting about something, leaving Kirishima Eijirou to smooth things over. They were a team, that’s just how it worked. It usually wasn’t an issue, people just worked around Bakugo’s temper. They were used to it, Kirishima was used to it.
This week was no different.
“Kirishima!” Bakugo barked out, not even looking up from his desk.
Stumbling in from his office, Kirishima didn’t even look concerned. “Yes boss?”
“Don’t call me that, just shut up and come here.”
Kirishima obeyed, closing the door behind him and coming to perch on one of the chairs in front of Bakugo’s desk. “What’s up?” he chirped.
Bakugo looked like he always did before a Tuesday meeting, unhappy and disgruntled. Every other morning of the week he just looked disgruntled, who wouldn’t at eight am? “Do you have the presentation ready?"
Kirishima saluted. “Yes sir.”
“Did you tell Yamada the conference is delayed?”
“Sir, yes sir.”
That got Bakugo to really look up at him, looking faintly amused. “What the crap is that? Are you a sailor now?”
Grinning, Kirishima dropped his salute. “Tuesdays suck dude, you aren’t the only one who hates these meetings. I’m just trying to brighten up the day with fun things.”
“You’re already bright enough just fucking calm down, it’s too early for this,” Bakugo said bluntly. “Plus you would make a terrible sailor.”
Gasping in mock horror, Kirishima clasped his hand to his chest, flat against his tie. “Me? A bad seaman? I’ll have you know I’m a great swimmer.”
“Then maybe you should swim on back to your office and get to work,” Bakugo said. “While you’re at it make sure to call lunch in for delivery?"
“You were the one who called me in here Bakugo, come on,” Kirishima said, getting to his feet. “You could have just picked up the phone if that was all you needed.”
“I’m busy.”
He leaned over to look at the screen Bakugo was so intent on and laughed. “Really? Minesweeper? Were you that bored without me?”
Bakugo scowled and pushed Kirishima away by the face. “Shut up, it’s your job to get those calls made.”
Rolling his eyes, Kirishima ignored him and sat on top of the desk. He picked up and fiddled with a pen from the desk. “Last time I checked we were partners, and that means equal responsibilities,” he said.
“Last time I checked, I had seniority and so I say you need to get your ass back to work.”
“Can I play games too once I’m done?”
Bakugo scowled at him. “What the fuck, I thought you just said we were partners? You don’t need my permission to fuck around.”
“You’ll just complain about it later if I hadn’t asked,” Kirishima pouted. He stuck his lip out and batted wide eyes at Bakugo, who was looking more and more unamused.
“Get. Out,” he said lowly.
Kirishima sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. The mouse made a crunching sound from the fist rapidly tightening around it and he took that as a sign to hop off the desk fully to his feet. “Okay okay, the usual?”
Bakugo was already staring at the screen with intent, tuning Kirishima out. “Uhuh,” he said distantly.
Wow, already dismissed. He didn’t bother telling Bakugo he had already ordered the food for the meeting yesterday, it’s not like it wasn’t predictable. With a meeting every Tuesday, ordering lunch was something they all did or had their interns scurrying to do. Bakugo preferred to have the interns actually working their jobs and Kirishima just felt too guilty to reduce them to fetching food for other people. So he always ordered delivery and just tipped the person extra, it’s hard to tip an intern without it getting weird.
The phone on Bakugo’s desk rang, and Kirishima snatched it up to answer. “Hello, desk of Bakugo Katsuki,” he said cheerily.
“What the fuck don’t answer my phone,” Bakugo hissed, grabbing at the phone. Kirishima dodged him with practiced ease, pushing Bakugo’s hand away with one of his own.
“Why am I not surprised?” said the voice at the other end of the line. “Kirishima, please hand the phone to Bakugo and get back to work.”
“Sir, yes sir!” Kirishima said, and handed the phone to Bakugo, who was looking a smidge more red and murderous than he had before. “It’s Aizawa.”
“You mean your actual boss? Yeah, give me that,” Bakugo said sarcastically, and snatched the phone. He shooed Kirishima away and this time he went easily. He saluted as he reached the door, making Bakugo flip him off. The poorly smothered laugh that resulted made Bakugo growl into the phone. “What do you want?”
“Is that any way to talk to your ‘actual boss’ Bakugo?”
“Yes,” Bakugo said quickly. The voice at the other end sighed tiredly and Bakugo glared at the corded phone, eyeing the base and wishing he could hang up already. “What do you need?"
“Get to my office.”
Bakugo glared at the phone even harder. “I don’t have time, tell me over the phone.”
“This is best to do in person,” Aizawa said.
“We have a meeting in an hour,” Kirishima interjected from the doorway.
“Yeah I know shithead!” Bakugo snapped and Kirishima laughed, ducking out. When the door shut, Bakugo sighed in turn. “We have the Tuesday meeting in an hour, will it take long?”
“Kirishima can handle the meeting, this is more important.”
That didn’t happen often. Not that Kirishima couldn’t handle the meeting, it was boring and he ended up doing a good amount of the busy work anyway. “Alright, when then?” he asked.
“Now.”
“On my way,” and he hung up the phone with a satisfying slam. It was odd that Aizawa wanted to see only him though, especially if it was as important as it seemed. Aizawa didn’t make phone calls if he didn’t have to. Weird.
Minimizing his game, Bakugo grabbed his suit jacket and threw it over his shoulder. Looking professional and shit was important but it was so much more comfortable to roll up his sleeves. He could put it on properly in the elevator, unrolling sleeves took enough time as it was, starting the chore as he went. Bakugo walked out of his office, tapping Kirishima’s window as he passed.
Kirishima watched him go by and gave him a thumbs up for encouragement. He watched him pass into the elevator through his window, and got back to work. He would be lying if he wasn’t slightly concerned, or even a little apprehensive. But it wasn’t like something was wrong, Bakugo was probably just ignoring important emails again. Or maybe a promotion? That would be great even if it meant they weren’t a team anymore. The thought was upsetting, but Kirishima ignored it for the distraction of Solitaire until he had to leave.
He knew everything would turn out fine.
“You’re firing me?!?”
“We aren’t firing you, we’re letting you go,” repeated his boss in monotone, staring stoically at the visibly shocked Bakugo.
“Cut the bullshit, it’s the same thing. On what grounds?” Bakugo spat out. “I’m part of the best team in this whole company!”
Aizawa didn’t blink. “Sit down, we aren’t firing you because you’re a bad employee. You know that, stop sulking like a child and hear me out,” he said tiredly. He looked like he wished he was anywhere but here, talking to Bakugo.
Bakugo clenched his fists and took a seat. In the logical side of his brain, he knew that there had to be a non-work related reason. He was good at his job, had been here for years, and always got his projects completed on time. He never let a project go badly at all. If there was a problem with Bakugo, it had to be his personality, of which he was well-aware of his co-workers distaste for. But he was going to fight for his job with his teeth bared if that was the lame ass reason for his termination.
Aizawa watched him seethe for a moment before turning his attention to his computer. He clicked through a few windows, and then his fingers stilled. He turned to face Bakugo again. “You moved to Japan when you were three correct?”
“Four,” corrected Bakugo shortly. “So, what’s the big deal?”
Ignoring him, Aizawa continued. “Since then you have been under a visa granted via connection to your parents, yes?”
“Yeah, that was the hag’s decision and I just stuck with it. My visa is still good for eight years,” Bakugo said with a frown. This was because he wasn’t a Japanese citizen? He’d been working at this company for nearly seven years, he’d grown up in Japan, he hardly considered himself not Japanese. But from a legal standpoint he knew he wasn’t.
“It was good for eight years,” Aizawa corrected, finally looking up at him. His eyes were not full of pity, understanding, or any other sort of sappy emotion. His eyes instead were filled with frustration. He kept it contained well though, that’s what Bakugo liked about him; Aizawa was nothing if straight to the point. “Bakugo, your visa expired last month.”
Bakugo’s whole left arm twitched before he braced it on the arm of the chair, fingers curling into the wood. “HUH?!” he said loudly, his lip curling. “It shouldn’t expire yet! Why didn’t I get anything about this? No one called me or shit like that. I’m not illegal!”
“You are now.”
Clenching his teeth, Bakugo’s mind raced. Had his visa really expired? His parents hadn’t said anything to him. He had no missed phone calls and he hadn’t gotten any important looking letters or bills other than the monthly rent and various facilities. Hell, even his cell phone bill was delivered electronically, but he hadn’t noticed any emails about something this important. Bakugo was sure he had time left before he had to file again. Being off by a couple months was one thing but years? Something was wrong here. This was all just a misunderstanding.
“This isn’t a misunderstanding, they’ve sent me the paperwork, they want to deport you,” Aizawa said, cutting off Bakugo’s thoughts. “I looked into it myself, they have the right. The paperwork doesn’t lie.”
Bakugo clenched the armrest harder, nails digging into the wood.
Aizawa sighed, and broke his posture to slump down a little bit more. “Look, Bakugo, I don’t want to fire you, and you don’t want to be deported. Find some legal way to get out of this so you can get back to work as fast as you can then we don’t have to think about it again. Okay?”
Not bothering to reply, Bakugo stood and stomped over to the door before wrenching it open, and taking extra care to slam it behind him, rattling the frames on the wall.
Aizawa rubbed the crease in between his bloodshot eyes. He shut the folder, pushing it to the side so he could get some actual work done without any temper tantrums from people too old to still be having them. He wasn’t a babysitter for heaven’s sake.
Before Bakugo had even made it back down to his office, the whole bullpen knew he was coming. The employee nearest the stairwell heard the thundering foot falls and send out a message to the rest of the floor.
The wolf is on the attack!
Immediately, the room full of chattering employee’s flew into a mild sort of chaos as they all rushed to get back to work.
Bakugo ran his section of the business with an iron fist. No one would be caught dead relaxing if he had anything to do with it, or he might murder them himself. While this didn’t make him the most…. popular boss, his section constantly churned out satisfied customers and end of the year bonuses. So all in all, they didn’t mind. But it did make for a tense work environment.
In his own little office, door wide open, Kirishima heard the scuffle and saw the message pop up on his screen. Instead of panicking, his reaction was to smile and rise to his feet, propping himself against the doorframe.
As his partner and fellow coworker, Kirishima Eijirou had found a niche in Bakugo’s life, and had wormed his way into his personal trust. While the blond was loud, prickly, and offensive, Kirishima pushed hard over the years he had been with the company to prove that he wasn’t going to let Bakugo get away with his bullshit; it didn’t bother him anyway. In his humble opinion, Bakugo was less like a wolf and more like a hedgehog.
So it became his unofficial job to keep Bakugo “in line” so the rest of the office could work in peace, and while his title of “Bakugo’s Babysitter” floated around the office, Kirishima really hoped Bakugo didn’t see it that way. But surprisingly, it worked. He began to see more good sides to Bakugo, and no longer felt that he had to force his way into talking, Bakugo actually sought out Kirishima out as well.
Once all that had happened, Kirishima considered them friends. Despite the fact Bakugo refused to have anything to do with him outside of work, Kirishima knew that the blond liked his company. Through no fault of his own, Kirishima also found himself admiring him over the years. Despite the sharp tone he used, Kirishima was also pretty sure that Bakugo liked him too. He liked him better than anyone else here at least even if that was a low bar to set, Kirishima saw the way his mood lifted and he relaxed a little more around him.
The door to the stairwell slammed open making half the people in the room flinch. Loud stomping echoed from the hallway until Bakugo came into view. Everyone’s attention became laser focused on their work as the sound of typing filled the room. Unlike usual, Bakugo didn’t stop to examine how hard they were working, heading directly to his own office, passing by Kirishima, and slamming his own door behind him.
Kirishima frowned. While he had been worried something had gone wrong, he didn’t actually expect it. For sure he thought Bakugo would be getting some sort of positive talking to not this. Did he break the copier again? Aizawa was probably making him pay for it. It was still odd though for this volatile of a reaction.
There was a tense silence before whispers erupted around the office.
“He’s more angry than usual.”
“What do you think Aizawa told him?”
“Are we finished? Are they shutting us down?”
“Maybe a new assignment gone bad?”
“My bonus hasn’t gone through I can’t be fired yet!”
“I hope we don’t have to do overtime.”
There was the sound of a crash that came from behind Bakugo’s closed door, followed by the muffled sound of shouting.
One by one, every person in the office turned to look pointedly at Kirishima.
He grinned at all of them with a thumbs up if only to cover his own nerves, and went to knock on Bakugo’s door. The noises didn’t stop and Kirishima opened the door to slip in, shutting it behind him so that the only the scream of “ -FUCKER HAS, DON’T KNOW FUCKING FUCK- ” could escape behind him.
Once inside, Bakugo didn’t even pause his rant as he paced around the office. Kirishima could see that the remains of a glass bowl that Kirishima had filled with caramels only two days ago was now laying smashed on the floor. Smugly, he noted that only a small amount of candy was left before crouching down to look at it closer, turning over one of the larger slivers with his fingers.
“Aw, Bakugo man, you broke it. Now I have to find another candy bowl for you. Did you like the caramels? I can you get some more if you’d like?”
“FORGET THE FUCKING CANDY,” seethed Bakugo as he paced. He was staring determidly at the floor as he paced. “ WE’VE GOT BIGGER FUCKING PROBLEMS .”
“So what happened?” Kirishima asked after a moment, deciding that a head on approach was probably for the better. He hadn’t seen Bakugo this upset in a while, months even. Surface level anger was common, but this? The way Bakugo was shaking, eyes wide as they darted around, this wasn’t normal anger. This shaking sort of wild eyed rage was something Bakugo only did if he was really freaking out. It happened occasionally, but at least Kirishima knew what to do this time instead of panicking like the first time he had witnessed it himself. Whatever Aizawa had needed to talk to Bakugo about, it wasn’t good.
“It--” Bakugo started, cutting himself off. He clenched his jaw and fists. “He-- fucking--” This time Kirishima could hear Bakugo’s teeth grind together, and he stood up from the floor.
“Bakugo, relax,” he said reassuringly, stretching out his arm to place it on Bakugo’s own.
At the contact, Bakugo ripped his body away from Kirishima, finally bringing his eyes up to meet his own. He looked less anxious and more mad than initially expected. “I’m getting fucking deported!” he ground out.
Kirishima’s jaw dropped. “Deported?!” he echoed, voice rising a bit sharper then he would be proud to admit.
Wincing, Bakugo flicked his eyes away and back again. “Yeah, my Dad is German. ‘Guten tag’ and all that shit.”
“Wait, you’re German? That’s cool,” Kirishima said excitedly, getting momentarily distracted..
“That’s not the issue here,” Bakugo ground out from between his clenched teeth.
“Uh, it kind of is? Otherwise you wouldn’t be deported if you were Japanese?” Kirishima pointed out.
“I am Japanese!!” shouted Bakugo, who whirled around into pacing again, frenzied into motion. “I was raised here, went to school here, have never even left the country before! I’m as Japanese as they get!”
Great, he had set him off again.
Placatingly, Kirishima held out his hand in the air to get Bakugo to stop. He did, several feet away from the outstretched limb, eyeing it distastefully. “Okay, okay, I get what you mean. But what can you do about it?”
Running a hand through his head, Bakugo sighed deeply. “I--I don’t know?” he admitted, looking a bit lost. He stared out the large windows of his office, looking out over the city, out over Japan. The light softened Bakugo’s sharp face and it made Kirishima’s chest clench. It took Bakugo’s next words to snap him back into focus. “Aizawa said to find some sort of way to make it legal, and soon. I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Well, how were you here before? Can’t you renew your visa? How much time is ‘not a lot’?”
“It expired,” Bakugo said bitterly. “I thought I was set for years and now I’ve been fucked over because I didn’t renew it in time. I’ve got, I dunno, a couple of weeks? A week?”
Kirishima bit his lip. That was not the answer he wanted to hear. “How did you stay before?” he asked again.
“Dad’s German, Mom’s Japanese. After I was born in Germany, they moved here. I got in because I was her child, and Dad got in because they were married,” Bakugo explained. His voice was tired, deflating from his earlier outburst. “And now that visa is expired apparently.”
“So you can’t beca--” Kirishima began to say before his brain screeched to a halt. Wait a minute. If Bakugo was being deported because his connection with a Japanese citizen was expired, all he needed to do was get a new one with a Japanese citizen right?
Kirishima was a Japanese citizen, born and legal.
He grinned brightly. “Hey, Bakugo.” His coworker only grunted, his gaze on the city in front of him. “You should marry me.”
That got his attention, and for a moment, Kirishima realized this could have been his last conscious moment on Earth had Bakugo been more clear headed. His heart skipped a beat.
All he got was a shocked stare then after a long pause came his eloquent response of, ”What?”
“I uh, figured if it worked for your Dad if could work for you?” Kirishima offered tentatively. This was it, the was the point of no return. It was finally time for Bakugo to kill him and flee the country. At least he’d be leaving on his own terms instead of being deported.
Bakugo continued to look blankly at him. “So I’d… get married? To you?” he asked.
“What, is it that bad of an option?” Kirishima asked, laughing nervously. “Not prime enough real estate for you?”
Bakugo’s eyebrow twitched. “I’m not buying a house.”
“You don’t have to, I come at a very reasonable price; free,” Kirishima said cheekily, and was delighted to see his comment get the rise of flushed color back onto Bakugo’s face.
He didn’t however, expect the garbled sound from Bakugo’s throat, or the tension that would rise in his shoulders as he spun around and punched the wall. But he did predict the way Bakugo’s hand would crunch against the solid surface. “FUCK,” shouted Bakugo.
“Well, what did you expect would happen?” Kirishima scolded. He didn't even bother to get up, he was pretty sure his legs wouldn’t support him right now he was so nervous.
“Not a marriage proposal that’s for damn sure,” Bakugo bit out.
“I meant the wall.”
Cradling his hand, Bakugo forced his way past Kirishima and collapsed heavily in his desk chair. He glared impassively at Kirishima, who was feeling like he had just made a very large mistake.
“Would that even work?” he asked at last.
Kirishima shrugged. “I mean, it must right, if that’s what your parents did?” Bakugo grunted in acknowledgment. “You can look into other options, but uh, I think this could work. Just get a marriage and once you fill out another visa we just get a quickie divorce right?”
Bakugo mulled it over, his leg starting to bounce under the desk. “And you’re okay with people thinking…. you’re gay?” he spat out after a moment.
“Dude, I’ve been out for like, years. Did you not know I was gay?” Kirishima said with trepidation. While he knew Bakugo was an angry person, he wasn’t really sure how he would feel about I dunno, being fake married to a guy who wasn’t fake gay.
Bakugo looked up in surprise, bafflement clear across his face. “Really?”
Overcome by a wave of shyness, Kirishima ducked his head from the searching gaze, scratching at his neck. “Uh, yeah. I am. I’m pretty solidly gay, it’s no problem for me,” he said. “Dude,” he tacked on at the end.
He heard Bakugo snort after a moment, and the solid thump of the chair being drawn forward. He looked up. Bakugo was looking thoughtfully at his desk, a bit angry, face red, but more contemplative like the wood would give him all the answers to his current problem. Which, wouldn’t happen because desks can’t talk, but Kirishima was pretty sure the adrenaline was making him think crazily. He’d better get a response soon or he’d--
“Alright,” Bakugo said, and Kirishima gaped at him.
“Really?”
“Yes really, I don’t want to be fucking deported,” Bakugo snapped.
Oh my god this was actually happening. A rush of giddiness shot through Kirishima and he exhaled his pent up breath sharply. “So like, uh, when do you want to do it?”
“I don’t know, just get everything ready, the paperwork and shit and I’ll sign it.”
Heart pumping in his chest, Kirishima got to his feet. He fumbled for his phone as his brain whirled. He had offered to marry Bakugo as a joke, there’s no way possible he had thought that he would actually accept it. For someone with such little relationship experience, romantic or otherwise, Bakugo agreed rather quickly. There was a flutter of hope in his chest and Kirishima ignored it staunchly. He had to stay professional about this or it would all go downhill real fast.
“Looks like we can get the forms whenever we have spare time,” Kirishima said brightly as he thumbed through the immigration page. “The office isn’t too far away.”
“So go get them,” Bakugo said stiffly. “We’ll sign it all this weekend.”
Kirishima froze. He lowered his phone slowly. “Oh uh, I won’t be here this weekend.”
“What? Why the hell not?” Bakugo snapped.
“I’m going to be out of town,” Kirishima said, his heart sinking. He really didn’t want to miss this trip, he’d been excited for it for months. He hadn’t been able to visit home in a long time, so busy with his job and unable to leave town for long enough to make the trip. Kirishima really, really did not want to have to cancel now.
Bakugo however, had no such qualms. He glared at Kirishima. “So don’t go. Or go late for all I care. This is kind of important and it was your fucking idea. Man up and take responsibility.”
Kirishima winced at that, and Bakugo must have noticed because he scoffed and looked away again. “No, you’re right. I’ll just call them and… and let them know something came up,” Kirishima said softly. Going from fluttery feelings to downright dismissal in the past five minutes could only do so much. So much had happened and he absolutely refused to let his emotions get the best of him in front of Bakugo. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine dumbass, it’s obviously bothering you,” Bakugo snapped. “We’ll just have to fucking go tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” That surprised Kirishima. “But what about work?”
“I can’t work until I’m legal again,” Bakugo said with a sigh. The tension had yet to leave his body, bring out the sharp lines of his body. It’s too bad it really only pops when he was angry. “I’ll talk to Aizawa or something, get you out of work.”
“Oh uh, okay. Sounds good,” Kirishima confirmed. He was still dizzy with how many times things had changed, but it looked like Bakugo was done talking about it. He turned to leave the room as Bakugo began to angrily type out an email, his fingers slamming down too hard to be truly good for the keyboard.
Once outside, he shut the door and leaned against it, taking a long deep breath and releasing it. Holy shit, he was getting married to his boss? Partner? Friend in a professional setting? Wait no, that was just co-worker still. Regardless, it was his hot co-worker that he had most definitely been attracted to for years and was now getting married to, even if it was fake.
Holy shit.
Kirishima felt like he had drunk sparkling water and somehow it had leaked into every pore of his skin, bubbly feelings consuming him. His face split into a wide grin, and he could feel his face heat up.
Holy shit.
He was marrying Bakugo?
Someone in the room cleared their throat and Kirishima realized the office was watching him having his excited mental breakdown.
The woman closest to him leaned over her desk conspiratorially. “So? What happened?”
Kirishima tried to stop smiling so hard but he was pretty sure that adrenaline wouldn’t wear off for awhile. He settled for covering his mouth with a hand. Her expression told him he was not being very subtle about it.
“Holy shit he’s getting fired isn’t he? There’s no way he’d be so happy about anything else right?” someone in the room said softly. A person nearby shoved them.
“Shut up, you know Kirishima’s not like that!”
“You’re right….”
Well, they weren’t wrong, he was. A bubble of laughter crawled its way up Kirishima’s throat and he swallowed it back down before it could escape. Bakugo wouldn’t be fired for long. Okay, he had to be professional about this, whatever he said next would affect how this all went down. It would direct how the office would gossip for the next couple weeks, if not months.
“I proposed to him,” is what came out of his mouth instead.
The woman’s mouth dropped open in shock, and the room went dead quiet.
“YOU WHAT?!”
The resulting deafening explosion of shouting had Kirishima glancing nervously behind him at Bakugo’s door but there was no sign of movement. He pushed himself off of the door and walked quickly to his office. No one moved to stop him although there was a decent amount of people asking questions, all of them blurring together to only form one real cohesive thought of:
WELL WHAT DID HE SAY?
Kirishima paused in the hallway and turned his grinning face to the crowd. “He said yes.”
“This brings flirting with danger to a whole new level,” said the woman, a little in awe.
The office was abuzz with conversation around him and before he could even reach his office, he was struck by a sudden idea. He paused and walked back to Bakugo’s door swiftly. He cracked it open and stuck his head in. The background noise of chatter had Bakugo look up, face even redder than it had been earlier.
“So, uh, the office knows now.” Bakugo’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his face getting even darker. That couldn’t be good for his health. “Also, how do you feel about the countryside? A little pre-wedding excursion?”
Kirishima pulled back out of the way, closing the door, just in time for the stapler Bakugo had thrown to smack against the wood. “GET OUT!” Bakugo shouted.
Kirishima, chuckling, obliged him, but not before quickly saying, “Think about it,” through the crack in the door and retreating, shutting it soundly.
Making his way back to his office for the second time, Kirishima mind spun as he closed this door. He knew he was pushing his luck, but there was no way he wasn’t going to milk every last bit of attention out of this. Never really getting to see Bakugo outside of work, plus the idea of Bakugo being introduced to his family had his heart flip flopping in his chest.
Was it a good idea? No, not really.
Was it a good opportunity? Considering the circumstances, yeah.
Would it blow up specularly in his face? Probably.
There was only one way to find out.
He was getting married this week.
What the fuck.
Those two thoughts echoed through Bakugo’s mind as he mindlessly sat at his desk. It’s not like he could really do anything, now that Aizawa knew, and now that Bakugo knew, it was pretty illegal for him to be working for a Japanese company. But he didn’t really feel like leaving, it felt like he would be a failure if he left work early, the whole office watching him take the walk of shame before it was even noon. It was possibly even more shameful now that they all knew he and Kirishima we getting married
Kirishima had checked in on him before the meeting started, arms full of rolled up tubes of prints and cable cords but Bakugo sent him packing with a few well timed insults. The idiot wasn’t even bothered. He should be.
He’s your fiance.
Bakugo clenched his fists against the intrusive thought. As if dealing with being deported hadn’t been enough, he was in no way prepared for Kirishima to offer that in the first place. Whose mind jumped there as a solution? Bakugo had been prepared to search Google all afternoon and call his parents to scream at them but marriage?
What the fuck.
He had been so sure Kirishima had a girlfriend, there were enough women sighing over him in the office, Bakugo knew that much. Despite the lack of gossip whenever he was around, he wasn’t oblivious. Kirishima was popular around the office and for good reason. He was a nice fucking person and was built like a model from the calendars some of the employees had in their cubicles. He was pretty sure he saw one that looked suspiciously similar to him before the woman noticed his curious gaze, and it disappeared from that day forward.
It was all so fucking weird.
By the time noon rolled around, he was antsy, bored and getting hungry. He had no idea when lunch was delivered because he assumed Kirishima hadn’t even ordered it after the chaos of the morning. At least he was prepared for the meeting, Kirishima was a remarkably well-prepared individual for someone so scatterbrained. It made for an invaluable asset to organizing their section of the office as it grew.
His employees had been walking back and forth peering in his window for the last couple hours and despite his shouts to get back to work, they continued. His engagement to a nice, soft person like Kirishima apparently dissolved their fear of him as a boss. He’d have to fix that when he got back to work whenever this was all fixed. Making eye contact with a man trying to look casual as he stared through the window, Bakugo snapped a pencil in half. The man’s eyes widened dramatically, and he fled. Within thirty seconds however, another head popped up to take his place.
That’s it, he’s done.
He hadn’t even unpacked anything from his briefcase before Aizawa had called and there had been no point afterwards. Bakugo hadn’t even opened Minesweeper really until he realized Kirishima had shown up late and he wanted to put the fear of god back into his cheerful eyes. The dark traitorous part of him whispered that he had wanted to actually make social interaction with someone he trusted before he kicked it back down. No, it was about talking to Kirishima not making him fear him. Wait…
If he stomped harder on his way to the elevator, and out the building, no one mentioned it to him.
Around one, Kirishima came to give Bakugo his lunch and wasn’t really that surprised Bakugo was nowhere to be found. He looked down at the sandwich in his hand, and shrugged, shutting the door as he went back to the meeting.
By the time Bakugo got home from work, he had calmed down, rationalizing the situation had helped immensely.
Did he have to worry about how he was going to solve this? No, no he didn't, because he already had an easy solution. Did he have to worry about how Kirishima was going to handle this? No, because the man was so easy going he would bend over backwards for strangers let alone his friend and work partner. This was more paperwork than anything else and that was part of his job to handle paperwork. No reason to blow this up to way bigger than it was.
In a way, he was grateful. Of all the people to be fake married to, Kirishima was a good one. They were a striking force together and he wasn’t put off by Bakugo’s anger, knew when to leave him alone to calm down or to help distract and talk him down. Ever since he met him, Kirishima was always eager, and for some reason, genuinely wanting to be his friend.
He was close, a little too close in Bakugo’s opinion, and he had reenacted his old policy of shoving people away once he had realized. It was immature of him, especially for someone in their late twenties like him, but still, it worked for him normally.
The fucker came barreling in anyway, he respected Bakugo’s wish to not hang out outside of work, but promptly ignored it at any given time at work. Bakugo once made the mistake of asking his roommate to drop off some papers he left behind at the apartment, too busy to come back and get them. By the time Kirishima was done with him, Midoriya and Kirishima were chatting away, trading stories and contact information. Now they were Facebook and Snapchat friends, something Bakugo staunchly refused to think about further on how Kirishima was invading his life without even being friends with him on social media.
Said roommate jumped when Bakugo slammed the door to their apartment shut.
“Kacchan!” Midoriya shrieked, the knife in his hand going flying to the floor from where he had been making a sandwich. He ducked down to grab it and popped back into view a moment later, hair flying. “You’re back so early today.”
There was no way he was going to tell Miroidya Izuku, certified Class A worrier, what was going on, no way in hell. He would just start crying and panic enough for four whole people about the whole situation, and then he’d be in trouble for making him cry. No thanks. “For heaven's sake I got done early, don’t stab yourself at the thought,” he said, eyeing the dirty knife in Midoriya’s hand. It dripped jelly onto the countertop as he watched.
Midoriya nodded his head enthusiastically. “It was just surprising, you aren't usually home until after three at the least.”
“So?” Bakugo said bored. He shrugged off his jacket, and folded it on top of one arm, loosening his tie with the other.
“Ochaco will be pleased, she hasn’t seen you in a week,” he said with a smile, bright, blinding. This must be some sort of thing Bakugo attracted, concerned idiots with mega-watt smiles. No wonder Kirishima and Midoriya got along so well, same with his damn girlfriend.
“Great,” Bakugo muttered.
Midoriya shouted down the hall. “Ochaco!” He’s home early!”
Speak of the devil and they shall appear.
There was the muted sound of cheering through the wall, and Bakugo threw his jacket over the couch. If he hurried, he could at least make it to the fridge for a drink before he got attacked. The bedroom door slammed open however before he could make it more than a few steps forward.
“KATSUKIIIIII!!” cheered his unofficial roommate, Uraraka Ochaco, wrapping him from behind in a hug that he ignored.
“You,” he said tonelessly, and continued to walk, dragging her dead weight along with him.
She followed stubbornly. “I haven’t seen you all week, are you avoiding me?”
Bakugo slid open the pantry to look over his options, not grabbing lunch before he left was really eating away at him. Fuck Kirishima, fuck Aizawa, fuck the government. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one avoiding me, you’re always at work,” he said. Maybe pasta? That was quick and easy.
Uraraka let go of him and he was able to bend over to pick up a pack of noodles. “That’s a fair point in all cases, but you still haven’t even looked at me once, you’re so mean Katsuki.”
“That’s me,” he said, and turned to face her, before going straight back to what he was doing. Maybe he could eat lunch in peace if he gave even the least amount of attention. “The worst person ever.”
“Well, not ever,” Midoriya piped up.
Uraraka nodded. “Yeah, if you were the worst person ever then you wouldn’t watch the new episode of Slippery Stairs with us later.”
Bakugo froze from where he was rooting around in the fridge. “There’s a new one?” he asked, trying to not act as excited as he actually was. The show was a bunch of idiots falling down stairs, the perfect form of entertainment. Somehow the two of them had gotten him into it, and now he was stuck at their mercy. They knew it too, Bakugo could almost feel their matching grins on his back.
“Yes~ There’s two~” Uraraka sang at him.
Grabbing a few eggs and an unopened packet of pork, Bakugo stood. He leveled the raw meat at them warningly. “I’m going to cook this, then I’m going to eat, and then sleep. If either of you disturbs me, you will regret it. Go it?”
Neither of them looked bothered by the words. “Sounds good,” Midoriya said easily.
Nodding, Uraraka pressed her hands together in poorly contained glee. “That’s great, does dinner work then? I got called in for a shift today at one my jobs, someone is out sick and they’re understaffed,” she explained. She might have been facing Bakugo, but her eyes were on Midoriya.
He nodded. “Sounds good babe,” he said, his eyes sliding from the floating meat still pointed at him, to his girlfriend.
Beaming, Uraraka leaned forward to kiss Midoriya soundly, turning his face into a sappy, smiling mess. Well, more than it usually was. Bakugo slammed the fridge shut, pointedly glaring at them, and they ignored him. “Shoot me a text when you’re headed back I’ll make sure to start on the food,” Midoriya said.
“WIll do,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again.
Rolling his eyes, Bakugo turned to the stove, and set his stuff down on the counter. Together, Midoriya and Uraraka were a force to be reckoned with, and Bakugo was still counting down the days until he got diabetes from being in their proximity for years. At least he didn’t have to worry about this sort of sappy bullshit from Kirishima in their ‘marriage’ since it was a sham. It was a relief because he was 99.9% sure that Kirishima would be just as bad, if not worse all by himself. The sheer power of Kirishima’s pout alone was enough to wrangle emotions Bakugo didn’t want to think about.
He slammed the pot down onto the stove with more force than was probably necessary. He turned on the stove and tore open the package of meat. He didn’t want to think about this, so he wouldn’t. Bakugo’s stomach rumbled in agreement, the food was more important.
The conversation petered out behind him, and he was suddenly slapped in the middle of the back with one hand. It stung, and he whirled around. “Take it easy champ, you’ll be okay,” Uraraka said cheerfully, hand still up, presumably for a high five.
“You won’t be okay if you do that again,” Bakugo growled.
“Alright! And that’s my cue to leave, can’t be late for work.” Taking the obvious suggestion, Uraraka leaned in and kissed Midoriya again, before prancing out of the room. Midoriya stared after her with longing.
“Gross.”
Midoriya flushed red and avoided Bakugo’s eyes. “Don’t be jealous,” he muttered and dodged Bakugo’s attempt to swing the spatula at him.
“I’m not jealous!”
Midoriya turned around, looked at him, face serious with eyes wide and shining. “That’s exactly what a jealous person would say,” he said completely deadpan.
Anger flared up in Bakugo’s chest as he turned back around to the sound of Midoriya’s giggling. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous of you and Angel Face?” He dumped the meat into the pan and it sizzled angrily, something he could relate to. Coming to stand next to him, Midoriya grabbed a new, clean knife from the drawer. He patted Bakugo on the shoulder, and resume the building of his sandwich. The gesture felt condescending even though he knew it wasn’t. “I’m not…” he said sulkily, moving the meat around in the pan.
“I know, and one day you won’t be,” Midoriya said kindly. His overly nice voice grated on Bakugo’s nerves sounding too close to ‘comforting’ then Bakugo wanted to hear. “One day you’ll find someone too.”
Bakugo pretended he hadn’t heard him over the meat sizzling and he staunchly ignored the way Kirishima’s face flashed into his head. He flipped the meat over in the pan.
Wrong, it wasn’t that he didn’t have anybody, he didn’t want anybody. He didn’t like people in his space and relationships were overly personal and a lot of work that Bakugo really didn’t care about. All the more reason to just ignore it. People like these two idiots forced their way in and he was too lazy to leave their shared apartment to live on his one, that was a little too lonely even for him.
Bakugo stayed silent as he cooked, avoiding Midoriya as he finished his own sandwich, putting the second dirty knife in the sink. He thankfully left without another word, leaving Bakugo to cook his meal in peace.
For the first time all day, Bakugo felt relaxed.