Chapter Text
“You have frosting on your mouth.”
Kirishima wiped his bottom lip with his thumb before pulling it back to inspect it. Sure enough, a smear of pink frosting greeted him, left over from the doughnut he hastily consumed on his way to work this morning. He shrugged, licking his thumb clean before wiping it on his shirt. It will add to all the other miscellaneous stains on it.
“Dude, gross,” Sero snorted, following behind him closely as they roamed the hallway of Might Studios.
“Whatever man. You’ve definitely seen worse from me,” Kirishima chuckled, pushing open the door to the writer’s room. The long mahogany table greeted them, familiar with chairs lined up on the sides. Kirishima took his place at the head of the table, Sero sitting next to him on his right.
“You ever going to clean that shirt of yours? Or is that the only one you own?” Kirishima grabbed his stained red shirt, bringing it close to his nose and taking a whiff. It did have a slight scent of what could either be chicken grease or the orange juice he spilled a week ago, but it wasn’t horrible.
“Next week. After the show,” he stated, before pulling out scripts and papers from his book bag.
The door swung open, and Kirishima gleamed at the sight of hair that was half white, half red, split evenly down the middle. “I didn’t think you would actually do it!” Sero exclaimed, a wide grin plastered on his face.
Todoroki said nothing, pulling up a chair next to Kirishima’s other side, side eyeing Sero as he took a swig of his coffee. “A bet’s a bet. I may be a sore loser, but I’m a man of my word,” Todoroki replied in a monotone, scooting forward. “Anyways, let’s have our discussion.”
“So straight to the point. Wouldn’t expect anything more from you,” Kirishima said, passing out scripts to everyone. “Okay so the guest this week is Uraraka Ochako as you guys know. I have a couple skits planned out. First, we’re going to do the recurring UA skit. I think we can have her as a new innocent student or something, the guys flirt and fight over her. Make it super over the top and dramatic.” Sero nodded, scribbling things down in red pen, his cheek leaning on the back of his hand. “We can definitely include a musical number skit, and Jirou is already working on something for us. And then maybe a game show-”
"HELLOOOO JAPAN!” a loud voice exclaimed from the front of the room. Todoroki visibly winced, rubbing his temples. He must’ve not recovered from the hangover. Kirishima looked up from the script, looking at the fool that was near the doors. Kaminari had a bright black and yellow lightning bolt painted on the right side of his face, over his eye. On top of that, there was a bold black streak in his overall bright blond hair. His get up of a leather jacket with matching leather pants had Sero and Kirishima laughing, Todoroki rolling his eyes.
“It’s Chargebolt in your area! Ladies and gentlemen, let me hear you!” he exclaimed, pointing at his imaginary crowd, one hand cupping his ear.
“Nice get up. Ashido?” Sero managed through his laughs.
“Who else? I personally like this one. The drag queen makeup she did last week was a little too much for me. But this?” Kaminari continued to make funny looking poses, getting more reactions from Kirishima. “This I can definitely get behind. But that’s not the only reason I’m here!” Kaminari dramatically pointed at Kirishima. “You. They need you. Top floor.”
Kirishima raised his eyebrows. “What could Aizawa want? The show has been doing perfectly good. He barely checks up on me anymore.” Nevertheless, Kirishima rose from his seat, walking across the room. “Hey, keep going over the script. I wanna knock out all edits today so we can start rehearsing tomorrow,” he called out over his back, before stepping out of the double doors. He made his way to the elevator, jabbing the up button with his thumb. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander to what Aizawa could possibly want. He’s pretty calm and collected, letting Kirishima and Sero run The Quirky Show as they liked. Ratings were good, no one was losing money, so what gives?
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The top floor was nothing like the 7th. Businessmen run amok, their suits and ties crisp and clean, the walls lined with floral wallpaper, which is a contrast to the writer’s rooms drab grey. Kirishima weaved his way, sticking out from all the formal workers, as he made his way to Aizawa’s office. The double doors almost reached the ceiling, and he pushed open the door, not paying much attention. “Hey Aizawa, what’s the matte-”
He stopped. The woman behind the desk was not Aizawa. Far from it. Her black hair fell around her, and she wore red spectacles, a black blazer and a short pencil skirt. Kirishima could see her legs crossed from below the table, a nude heel with red bottoms hanging off her right foot.
“You’re not Aizawa.”
“No. I’m not. Kirishima Eijirou is it?” she said smoothly, rising from the desk, smoothing her skirt out. “Pleasure to meet you. Kayama Nemuri.” She stuck out a hand, to which Kirishima reluctantly shook.
“I’m sorry, I’m confused. Where’s Aizawa?” Kirishima said, pulling his hand back.
“Ah yes. I expected you to be wondering about that. Don’t worry, he’s taken another job. Different studio. I’m his replacement. I used to run Midnight Entertainment?” Kirishima vaguely remembered the name. Most of the shows they produced were sappy soap operas. Ashido loved them.
“Wait, so Aizawa isn’t in charge? I mean, no offense ma’am! I’m glad to be working under you.” Kirishima laughed awkwardly, but was distracted with how Kayama’s eyes roamed his body up and down. Was she checking him out right now?
“What are you exactly wearing there Kirishima?” she said, judgement filling her voice. Kirishima was well aware of what he was wearing. The greasy red t-shirt, cargo shorts, and… red crocs. A gag gift from Sero one year, but now he can’t help but actually wear them everywhere he goes.
“Work attire?” he said uncertainly.
Kayama shakes her head. “Not in my company. Fix that. And fix it quickly, you have a lunch meeting.”
Kirishima furrowed his eyebrows. “With who? My schedule is cleared, all I have to do is go over sketches for the show.”
Kayama gave him a grin, and Kirishima automatically knew that he could say goodbye to his days of slacking off. “You’re going to be meeting with Bakugo Katsuki! Isn’t that fun! He’s the guest star for your show this week.”
Now Kirishima was even more confused than ever before. Someone explaining rocket science would probably be more easier to understand than this. “I think you’re mistaken. Uraraka Ochako is our guest star. We booked her weeks ago, and-”
“I pushed her back to next week! Already gave her a call, she was totally okay with it.” Kayama sat down at her desk, ruffling through a manilla folder on top. “Do you know what your ratings are?” she asked.
Kirishima was trying to figure out if this was a trick question. “Good?” he said, smiling awkwardly.
“Well only in certain areas. You’re missing a group. We have middle aged housewives, millennial homosexuals, and some single women in their late 30’s,” Kayama read off the chart in front of her. Kirishima was still stuck on how she said millennial homosexuals, but she continued.
“You’re missing the young people! I wanna see teenage girls and guys, people who consume media regularly. That will definitely increase the show's ratings. And who’s better to do it than the young, hot, upcoming movie star that has everyone’s hearts right now!” She pushed a picture towards Kirishima, who looked down. Bakugo Katsuki stared back at him, wearing denim jeans that were slightly low on his hips, the top of his briefs peeking out. He was also sporting a white v-neck which hugged his torso to reveal his physique, a gold chain hanging down from around his neck. His blond hair was slightly damp and plastered to his face.
Kirishima gulped. He was trying not to reveal that he was extremely gay right now, and instead tried to focus on Kayama’s words instead of Bakugo’s biceps.
“So. You’re basically going to be in charge of him for this week! Get to know him, cater to his needs. All that fun stuff!” Kayama exclaimed. Now Kirishima actually snapped back into it.
“Wait...what? I think you mixed me up with someone. I’m not a page boy. I’m the head writer. I kinda have a show to run?” Without Kirishima, the show wouldn’t even exist. He could leave it to Sero and Todoroki, but Kirishima was the glue that held them together.
“Don’t care. Bakugo is hot right now, but he has the worst anger issues I’ve seen. Do you know how hard I worked to get him to do the show? No wonder they say money is the solution to everything…” Kayama muttered, shuffling the papers on her desk. “It will be fun! I didn’t want to stick him with someone boring, and you seem pretty fun from the research I’ve done about you.” Research? What research has she been doing about me? Did she find pictures of me from high school? God I hope not. “Chugging a keg is very gutsy of you I have to say,” Kayama cut his thoughts off. Fuck.
“Anyways the meeting is in an hour. Change, look presentable, and meet him here.” She handed Kirishima an index card with the address of Aroma, the new upscale restaurant that opened downtown.
“What am I supposed to do?” Kirishima exclaimed a worried expression on his face.
Kayama shrugged. “Not my problem. Just introduce yourself or whatever.”
“No, I’m not going to do this. Sorry, you seem wonderful and all, but I’m a head writer. I can’t be running around like some page boy for every celebrity you want to cast!” Kirishima realized he was standing his ground right now. He always believed in things like that.
“So you basically want to lose your job? Get replaced? Sounds fine by me.” Kayama’s hand began to move towards the phone on her desk.
“Wait, what? You’re going to fire me?” Kirishima exclaimed, almost gaping at her.
She just returned a smile. “Meet up with Bakugo Katsuki and you can keep your job. Otherwise I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing your last paycheck in the mail this next coming week.”
Fuck. Kirishima really wished the ground would swallow him up right now. He wished Aizawa would walk in and tell him this was an elaborate prank to get him to shit his pants. He wished he would snap three times and he would be back in the writer’s room, with Sero making stupid jokes and Todoroki rolling his eyes, sipping his black coffee.
But none of that’s going to happen. And sometimes you have to swallow your pride so you can actually have food to eat and a place to live.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” he said through gritted teeth.
Kayama clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Outstanding! Now get changed right now. I might just throw up if I have to look at those ugly shoes any longer.” She shooed Kirishima away with her hand, and Kirishima begrudgingly turned around. As he walked out the fancy double doors he sighed and thought: How the fuck did my life get to this?