Chapter Text
Today is finally the day, Bakugo thought to himself as he maneuvered his car through the narrow streets.
The drive had been long, too long if he were being honest, but after weeks of trying to dodge the meeting, Bakugo had finally run out of plausible excuses. Implausible ones too.
Not that he was looking for excuses to prolong his fake relationship, he was just a busy guy.
Exams had really kicked his ass but now that Golden Week was upon them, Uraraka had all but begged for him to come visit her parents. Face-to-face with her pink cheeks and quivering lower lip, Bakugo had no choice but to cave.
Best fake boyfriend ever.
Still, Bakugo was more than a little curious as to what Uraraka’s parents would be like. She seemed really down to earth for a rich girl. Kind to everyone with an ever present smile on her face. She just had the vibe of someone who’d lived a charmed life and never had to experience any hardships.
A few possibilities floated through Bakugo’s head as he drove.
Maybe they’d be old money. All tatami mats and kimonos. A huge plot of land with a koi pond out back. He could easily imagine Uraraka all dolled up and serving tea with that crinkle she got between her eyebrows whenever she was concentrating.
It could just as easily be the opposite though. Something more nouveau riche. Carefully coiffed hair and suits, with servants scurrying about like in those day dramas his mom liked to deny she watched. That would almost be more funny. Maybe they'd even throw a pack of money at him and demand he stay away from their daughter. Not that he really needed it but he was never one to turn down extra spending money.
Ready to play his part, Bakugo had worked very hard when he dressed that morning.
His hair was spiked like he’d just rolled out of bed, though it had taken an hour to style. His shirt was an old, faded high school relic with holes near the hem and a graphic skull on the front to give that menacing vibe. His jeans, fashionably ripped and dripping with chains, hung low on his hips and pooled over the scruffiest looking pair of combat boots he could find at the second-hand store.
All in all he looked pretty good if he did say so himself. Like a parents worst nightmare, but good nonetheless. Never let it be said that Bakugo did anything by halves.
As the onboard GPS cheerfully announced his arrival though, Bakugo was starting to wonder if maybe he’d typed in the directions wrong or something. That had to be it because the only thing around was a dilapidated little apartment complex and what looked to be an abandoned convenience store in the early stages of demolition.
Just as he was about to pull up his phone and check, a knock on the window made him start.
Peeping in the window, in all her pink-cheeked glory, was Uraraka. With a wide smile that seemed to light up her face, she mimed for him to open the door.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she gushed, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek as he got out of the car.
Bakugo let her take him by the wrist and lead him towards the apartment, still trying to process exactly what the hell was going on.
“Mom and Dad are upstairs waiting, but Uncle Koji is running a little late.”
“Yeah,” Bakugo replied distantly as he let her lead him up the steps. “That’s cool.”
Cool? COOL? Absolutely none of this was cool. The closer he got, the shadier the building seemed to get. Even the front door looked shabby with its peeling paint and mismatched numbers nailed to the door. Had they brought him here to kill him?
Thankfully the entryway didn’t look to be the same horror show as the outside. A little sparsely decorated, but still clean and surprisingly homey. Not a plastic tarp or axe in sight.
Not that Bakugo had much time to make any more in depth observations. He’d only stood inside the doorway for a moment before the air was knocked straight out of his lungs.
It took him a moment to realise that he had not in fact been tackled by the world’s shortest line backer, but was indeed on the receiving end of a hug.
Trying to scrape together some semblance of dignity, Bakugo opened his mouth, fully prepared to give whoever it was shit for their invasion of his personal space.
Only for the words to die a swift death on his lips.
Smiling brightly was Uraraka’s face, though a little older, with a few more creases around the eyes and mouth.
“Oh Mama, give Bakugo-kun a minute to breathe.” admonished a sweet voice from just behind Bakugo’s shoulder, shaking him out of his surprise.
“I’m sorry dear,” Uraraka’s mom said, looking completely unapologetic as she untangled herself from Bakugo’s chest. “I was just so happy to finally meet the boy you’ve told us so much about.”
Her Kansai accent was thick, Bakugo noticed. Like Uraraka’s when she was tired or particularly upset. It was a little weird looking at basically an older version of his girlfriend.
Not sure what to say, he shoved his hands and his pockets and grunted. It seemed the safest response given he was still reeling.
Thankfully, any further risk of hugs was cut off as a man stepped forward. He was a big son of a bitch with broad shoulders and a square jaw. His arms were corded with muscles. Not the kind of vanity muscles built in a gym, but the kind that came from hard work.
As he stepped forward, Bakugo squared his own shoulders. It was show time. Maybe he’d been a little off about a few many things, but he still had a game plan. Much to Bakugo’s surprise though, as soon as he was within arm’s reach, the man stuck out a hand like some sort of foreigner.
Left with no other option, Bakugo mirrored the gesture, only to have his hand engulfed in the firmest handshake he had ever received in his life. It was like being gripped by a bear’s paw.
Maybe he was trying to assert his dominance, Bakugo decided, well two could play at that game.
But before he could return the man’s grip with one of his own, a large, cheerful smile spread across the man’s face.
“We are mighty pleased to meet you, Bakugo-kun, mighty pleased indeed” Uraraka’s dad rumbled cheerfully. “Ochako has talked our ears off about you. We were wondering if we were ever going to meet you in person.”
“Uh, right back at you.” Bakugo mumbled. Well there went his theory that Uraraka got her personality from her mom’s side of the family.
Immediately Uraraka’s dad seemed to notice his discomfort and let go of his hand.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Something Uraraka also did when she was embarrassed, Bakugo noticed. “Been working with a lot of Americans recently and it’s rubbed off on me.”
“Does that mean you got the contract?” Uraraka said, completely forgetting she was still holding her shoes.
“Sure does,” replied her father, shooting her a jaunty wink and a thumbs up.
Uraraka’s hands rushed to her face as she squealed in excitement, her shoes clattering forgotten to the floor as she rushed over to her parents.
The ensuing group hug left Bakugo standing awkwardly by the door. Though he was immensely grateful he had not been invited to participate. He wasn’t a big fan of hugs at the best of times and clearly there was some important shit going on.
After a moment Uraraka untangled herself and glanced bashfully in Bakugo’s direction.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her already rosy cheeks taking on a deeper tint. “That was so rude of me. Let me introduce you properly.”
Bouncing over to his side, Uraraka gestured cheerfully at her parents.
“Mama, Papa, this is Bakugo Katsuki, Bakugo-kun this is my Mama and Papa.”
Now on the ride up Bakugo had formulated a plan of how this introduction was going to go. He had his best sneer all queued up and everything.
All of that seemed to fly right out of his ears though, as years of nagging by his own mother came crashing down on his head like a pile of bricks.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Bakugo replied bowing stiffly, already kicking himself but unable to stop.
What the fuck? Was he channeling Four-Eyes all of a sudden?
Thankfully, Uraraka’s mom and dad didn’t seem to notice. Responding with matching smiles and bows of their own.
“Oh the pleasure is all ours.” Uraraka’s mother smiled. Turning to her daughter, she gave an exaggerated whisper. “You never told us he was so well mannered.”
Uraraka giggled lightly and swatted Bakugo on the arm.
“Oh he’s on his best behaviour believe me.”
Now that would not stand.
“Am not.” Bakugo grunted sullenly, shooting daggers with his eyes.
Uraraka just rolled hers, but before she could respond, her mother gave a loud gasp.
“The curry! I left it on the stove.”
“Oh, I hope it’s not burnt,” she muttered as she rushed towards what Bakugo could only assume was the kitchen.
“I’ll go see if I can help.” Uraraka’s dad offered. “Why don't you kids sit in the living room while you wait.”
“Do you need some help?” asked Uraraka but her father waved her off.
“And leave our guest alone?” Uraraka’s father gave Bakugo an over dramatic wink. “No can do. Anyways, you know how your mom is in the kitchen.”
“Rules with an iron spatula,” whispered Uraraka conspiratorially.
As it turned out, the inside of the house was much nicer than the outside would imply. The walls were clean, without any chipped paint or mold and the hardwood floors, though definitely showing signs of wear, were polished to a shine.
It was just…small. Like freakishly small. Bakugo knew his house was a little on the big side but this was not what he was expecting at all.
“Hey,” said Bakugo as Uraraka led him to a well-worn but surprisingly comfortable couch. “I thought you said your dad ran a construction company?”
“Oh he does,” replied Uraraka cheerfully. “He and Mama run it together.”
This line of conversation was getting him nowhere. If he didn’t know better, Bakugo could swear that Uraraka was avoiding it on purpose. She kept fiddling with her fingers, which was another one of her ridiculously obvious tells.
Clearly a little more direct inquiry was needed.
“When you said that I was thinking more Shimizu Corporation and less…this.” said Bakugo, gesturing around him.
Uraraka’s cheeks flushed and her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. For a minute Bakugo felt like he’d been kicked in the gut but he shoved the feeling aside. He had to get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on here and if that meant a little discomfort, so be it.
“I don’t talk about it that much.” Uraraka said, refusing to meet his gaze. “People can get a bit weird when they find out. Especially at our school…”
Her words trailed off, leaving Bakugo to sit in the heavy silence.
Thinking back on the last few months, Bakugo had to bite back the long and fairly impressive stream of curse words currently streaming through his head.
All those trips to the planetarium, the dinners, all the shit he’d had her pay for. He almost preferred the time when he thought she was a trust fund brat because at least it didn’t make him feel so gut wrenchingly shitty.
It didn’t make the least bit of sense. If she didn’t have money to burn then why would she waste it on him.
The thought seemed to catch in Bakugo’s brain like a splinter.
Before he could tease it loose though, Uraraka’s tiny voice brought every thought that had ever existed in his head screeching to a halt.
“Are you disappointed?”
“Disappointed?” Bakugo practically shouted.
What kind of asshole did she think he was? Sure he was an asshole but he wasn’t the type of asshole to get hung up on money shit. How could she even think that?
Glancing towards the kitchen to ensure he hadn’t drawn any unnecessary attention, Bakugo managed to bring his voice down to a more acceptable level. Though it took every ounce of his self restraint.
“Why would I be disappointed?” he repeated through ground teeth.
Uraraka favoured him with a knowing look.
“Well, your family is rich.”
Now that was just insulting.
“We are not rich.” Bakugo stuttered.
Just because his parents were halfway decent fashion designers. Just because they owned a reasonably sized house and a couple of okay cars. Just because they had some hired help. Just because he’d gone to private school most of his life. None of that meant they were rich…Right?
The argument sounded fucking stupid even to his own ears.
“We aren’t rich.” Bakugo tried again, his voice a little less confident. “We’re just…comfortable.”
A soft peal of laughter rang out before Uraraka could get her hand over her own mouth. The sound was so sweet, Bakugo could almost get over the fact she was laughing at him.
Almost.
“Did I say something fucking funny?” He grumbled, folding his arms across his chest defensively.
“Sorry, sorry,” said Uraraka. “That’s just something rich people say.”
Before Bakugo could snap back, though with what even he wasn’t sure, the bright chime of the doorbell made them both jump.
“Sweetie, could you get that?” A voice called from the kitchen.
Like a shot Uraraka was up and off towards the door, leaving Bakugo to stew in his thoughts.
Nothing about this day was making sense.
When he was getting ready this morning he’d had a pretty clear view of how this meeting was going to play out but so far not one of his expectations had been met.
Uraraka seemed on good terms with her parents and if she wasn’t in the middle of some kind of rebellious phase then why in the hell did she need a fake boyfriend?
No matter how Bakugo looked at the situation he just couldn’t figure out her angle.