Work Text:
Bakugo grumbled, slouching deeper into his chair as he stared at the clock hanging over the large dark wood desk.
Fifteen minutes after one.
His appointment had been at one o’clock. He’d arrived at the entrance and entered the main lobby at precisely five minutes before one o’clock, reached the office two minutes after, and had been kept waiting for over fifteen minutes.
For his one o’clock appointment.
A low growl vibrated in his chest as his head dropped back between his shoulders. “The fuck,” he mumbled, staring ahead at the tacky black and white polka-dotted wall in front of him. The soft click of the receptionist’s keyboard echoed through the waiting room as Bakugo struggled not to count the seconds.
He hated being late.
And he hated it even more when other people were late.
Since getting his acceptance letter to U.A. a few weeks ago, Bakugo had been working hard to finish his final year of middle school and complete the enrollment tasks U.A. had assigned.
Doctor’s appointments.
Placement testing.
Picking up copies of his quirk registration.
Being fitted for the hero costume he designed.
One of the first tasks newly accepted students were assigned was to design their hero suit. While they weren’t required to pick codenames, the suits would be needed during the first week of school. The designs weren’t binding. In fact, the information packet had stressed that these were to get them started and to expect their looks to evolve as they trained.
Today, he was scheduled for fitting.
Twenty minutes ago.
“Excuse me?”
Bakugo lifted his head to see a brunette approach the desk. She was dressed in a little pinafore dress, white t-shirt, and worn light brown boots.
“I have an appointment to see Mizutama-san,” she explained, rising on her toes a little bit as she clutched the beat-up leather backpack in her hands.
The secretary pointed over to the row of seats where Bakugo was fuming.
She turned around, big brown eyes zeroed in on the seat one spot away from Bakugo. “Hey there,” she grinned, smoothing her skirt as she sat down.
Bakugo’s eyebrows raised at the sound of her dialect.
“Are ya from U.A., too?” she questioned, setting her bag in her lap. “Well, I’m not from U.A. yet- ” Her fingers twirled around the leather straps.
His brows furrowed, leaning back to study her. If he had to guess, she was a little over one hundred pounds soaking wet and holding a brick and looked about as lethal as a daisy.
“I just got accepted, and I’mma here to get fitted for my suit,” she drawled with a smile. “My name’s Uraraka Ochako.”
Bakugo narrowed his eyes at her. Normally, he’d scream and tell her to piss off, but couldn’t risk tarnishing his reputation before he began.
“Are ya from U.A.?”
No matter how tempted he was. “Yeah.”
“Okay, so what’s your name?” she asked him. “I don’t think I was with ya at the entrance exam.”
“I’m the person who placed first.” He didn’t feel like chatting, but it looked like his appointment was delayed. It would be easier and get a few moments of silence than let this girl ramble.
“Oh, you’re that fella who got the highest rank on the exam. Um,” Uraraka hummed as she tapped the side of her chin. “Bakugo Katsuki, right?”
A smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “Yeah.” His ego delighted in the fact that she knew his name. Everyone would be looking at the guy who placed first once school started. “What’d you place?”
“Third.”
His head snapped over to meet the smug look on her face. “Out of your group?”
“Out of everyone. Two places behind you,” she clarified, narrowing her eyes. Even though she was looking at him dangerously, her round face and her sweet chocolate eyes made her anything but intimidating. “Do ya know the fella who placed second?”
“No, why would I?” he scoffed. “He didn’t beat me.” Bakugo could see her face twisting out of the corner of his eyes, trying to decide on an answer to his question.
“U.A. students?” the receptionist poked her head over the desk, “Mizutama-san is ready for the two of you.”
“About damn time,” Bakugo grunted, just loud enough for Uraraka to hear. He stood up, walking over to the reception desk as Uraraka followed behind him.
“You two can go on through into the studio.”
He nodded as Uraraka chirped a merry ‘thank you’ as they walked through the white double doors and toward the row of mannequins in front of them.
The workroom was large with high ceilings and giant black-framed windows. Large work tables were organized in the center of the room while sewing machines lined the back wall. The sounds of busy chatter, metal scissors, and the rhythmic thudding of sewing machines echoed off the walls.
“Wow,” Uraraka whispered as she watched the flurry of activity in front of them. Her eyes bounced from the woman rushing past them with a red gown and pins sticking out her mouth to the man by the large polka-dotted wall cutting yards of bright yellow fabric.
“Stop acting like you’ve never seen a bunch of people cutting damn fabric,” Bakugo scoffed, sneering at the mannequin dressed in rainbow sequins to his left.
“I’ve never been to a designer’s office before,” Uraraka told him, ignoring his bitter tone as she watched the woman who had been carrying the red gown fit it over the mannequin.
“Studio,” he corrected.
She raised a curious brow at him before deciding not to comment.
“You two must be the U.A. students, Uraraka Ochako and Bakugo Katsuki,” a tall white-haired woman in a dotted blouse and leggings approached. “I’m Mizutama-san , and my company has been assigned to handle your costume designs.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Uraraka greeted, immediately giving a little bow.
Bakugo grunted in acknowledgment. He looked around at designs on display with a frown. There were gowns, suits, casual dresses, and everything but hero suits. What kind of place was this?
“We received your designs about two weeks ago, so we have something for you to try on,” Miztama nodded, with a smile as assistants fluttered around them setting up the area. “So we need you two to strip down, and we’ll get started.” A paper partition was placed between two white square platforms.
Uraraka blinked, pointing to the little area, “Here?” She looked behind her, trying to find a bathroom.
“Here,” Mizutama instructed as one of the assistants moved Uraraka to one side of the partition.
“What the hell?” Bakugo barked as a set of assistants grabbed him and moved him to his side.
“Neither of your costumes requires you to be naked, so we’re expecting that you’re wearing undergarments as instructed.”
That explained the strange note about wearing underwear to the appointment.
“Also, it’s not uncommon for heroes to need assistance getting in and out of their suits the first few times,” Mizutama took a few steps back so she could address the both of them. “Assisting and watching you get and out of your suits helps us make smarter improvements.”
Reasonable.
“So let’s get this fitting going,” she clapped, grinning wildly as she stepped away. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, you both are in excellent hands until then.”
Bakugo looked at the assistants crowding around his stand. He jerked his head away before pulling off his shirt.
This was fucking awkward.
“Okay so the base of your costume is pretty simple,” one of the assistants told him, holding up the black tank top and black pants. “We have the straps like your drawing suggested,” he told him, holding up the roll of green bands, “but we need to measure and see where they fall, then-”
Bakugo had stopped listening.
He knew the process.
His eyes wandered over to the partition next to him, away from the rambling assistant. Even though he couldn’t see her face, he could see the discomfort in her silhouette. The faint rambling of the assistant helping her blended in with the bustling noise of the room. His face burned as the shadow of her head whipped in his direction.
He watched as she clumsily stepped out of her shoes before her fingers hooked into the straps along her shoulders.
“Tch,” he growled, forcing his attention forward.
He wasn’t supposed to be watching this.
Not that there was anything to see.
Quickly removing his pants, he leaned down to pick the garment up. His eyes caught the lines of small ankles, shapely legs, and thick thighs transitioning to a delicate waist. What he guessed to be her shirt was dangling from her fingers as she rose to the ball of one of her feet. The small movement accented her body, giving power to her silhouette.
That physique had taken third place.
The knowledge of that alone intrigued him and made her body that much more fascinating.
“Okay, the shirt looks good,” the assistant nodded, handing the pants to him. “Let’s see how the pants work.”
Nodding, he accepted the clothing while keeping his gaze focused on the partition.
She was looking at him.
His silhouette.
He could feel her eyes moving through the paper to study his body.
Blowing out a breath, he squeezed his hands into a quick fist before wiping his hands through hair. He’d normally wipe his hands off on clothes, but he couldn’t risk the nitroglycerine being left on his suit if it was a prototype.
He couldn’t speak for her, but he was pretty sure his gaze was close to burning a hole through the paper between them.
“Pants look good, maybe too baggy in the legs but we’ll see what Mizutama has to say about it...”
He was barely aware of the fact that he’d slipped into the pants. His attention was focused on the silhouette ahead.
She stood a few steps away in nothing but what he assumed to be her underwear as the assistant talked to her. From what he could hear, they were talking to her about the easiest way to get into her suit.
Her head nodded while her gaze remained forward, seemingly staring at him while she was suited up.
“ Arms out.”
Bakugo held his arms out as Uraraka’s head tipped out the side at his action.
He went through the motions of being fitted as he watched the girl he’d just met step into her suit. The material stretched and then snapped tightly, fitting her form like a glove. If he hadn’t just watched her get dressed, Bakugo would be sure that she wasn’t wearing anything.
“Okay, let’s see what we’re working with!”
The partition was removed.
“It looks good on you!” Mizutama cheered, approaching Uraraka. “Both of you!”
The black and pink suit fit on her body like a second skin, revealing every curve hidden by her everyday clothing. Bakugo cleared his throat, swallowing words of agreement.
Her attention whipped away from Bakugo as her cheeks flushed. “I’m not sure,” Uraraka’s voice rang out, as she looked down at the suit. “It’s a bit….” Her eyes drifted over to Bakugo as she blushed. “Tight?”
He kept his eyes at a respectable level before she turned back to the designer.
“Yes, but you expressed interest in rescue. You don’t want your clothes getting caught on things,” Mizutama explained before stepping in front of Bakugo. “I’m thinking your mask is gonna need some more drama.”
One of the assistants strapped the mask over his eyes.
“Your hair is quite spikey, so we’re going to need to make the spikes on the mask bigger.”
Uraraka smothered a giggle as she looked at him.
He growled, the tips of his ears turning red in betrayal.
“Hey,” Uraraka reached out toward him, waving her fingers at him, “we match.”
“The hell?” His eyes studied her costume. Aside from the heavy use of black, Bakugo couldn’t see any similarities.
“Two black dots.” She pointed to the dots below her neck before pointing to set over his heart. “We match.”
“My mark,” Mizutama grinned as she started fitting the green bands to his pants. “Some people recognize them as polka dots.” Fair assumption. The room was covered in them. “Some people think it’s my signature, and other people see a colon which is used before a list of items.” She pinned a piece of belting to his knee. “An expansion or explanation. Showing there is more.”
“What’s it supposed to mean?” Bakugo asked.
Uraraka’s eyes perked up as someone placed a belt around her waist.
“Well,” Mizutama sighed, looking at the pair mischievously, “You two are the only heroes I’m dressing from U.A. this year, so I’d like to let you figure it out.”