Chapter Text
“Could you just leave me the hell alone already?”
Eijirou freezes, already halfway through Bakugou’s front door, and raises his eyebrows.
“Katsuki, grow up. Can’t I see my son on his birthday?”
The other voice in the room is tinny and distant, and Eijirou relaxes, his shoulders drooping. Ah. On the phone.
“Why the fuck would I want to see you after what you did?” Bakugou growls back.
“I’m just trying to help, Katsuki. Are you just going to stay single for the rest of your life?”
Eijirou recognizes that biting tone, the slight inflections that sound a lot like Bakugou, but in a higher pitch. Bakugou’s mom.
“Why the fuck does it matter?”
Bakugou still hasn’t noticed him, but as intriguing as it is, Eijirou gets the feeling that this isn’t a conversation he should be listening in on. He steps forward and pushes the door closed behind him, slipping one hand into the pocket of his hoodie and shaking a white, paper bakery sack in the other to signal his arrival. Bakugou looks up at the sound of the door clicking closed, his gaze turning upwards from the cutting board in front of him to notice Eijirou’s entrance. He sets down his kitchen knife.
“Mom, I’m hanging up.”
“Katsuki, are you serious-“
But Bakugou has already reached for his phone, tapping the screen to end the call. His breath comes out in a huff.
“Old hag.”
Eijirou walks through the living area to the kitchen, taking a seat at one of the two barstools at the counter across from Bakugou. The plastic of the chair creaks under Eijirou’s weight, like it always does, and groans a bit louder when Eijirou shifts to toss the white paper bag onto the countertop.
“Got us dessert.”
Bakugou glances at the grease-dotted bag. “About time.” He returns to the bright orange bell pepper on the cutting board in front of him.
“What did your mom want?”
“Nothing important.”
“Really? You sure seemed mad about it.”
“I’m always mad. Especially when I talk to her,” Bakugou responds. Eijirou snorts.
“Okay, yeah. But what’s up?”
Bakugou finishes chopping the bell pepper and scrapes it off of his cutting board into a bowl. He moves on to an onion, his knife pushing through the top of the vegetable with a solid crunch.
“She wants me to go on vacation,” Bakugou says. “With her and my dad. Says it’s been too long since she’s seen me.”
“And you don’t want to go?” Eijirou asks. “When’s the last time you saw them?” He knows it’s been a while since he visited his own family. Working at Fat Gum’s has been a dream, but it’s hard to find days off sometimes, and he guesses that it’s probably the same for Bakugou. Maybe even more demanding, considering all of the overtime Bakugou works.
“Not since moving here,” Bakugou answers. “And she makes me remember why every time she fucking calls.” He spits the words out like they’re hot, his knife rapping quickly against the cutting board as he dices the onion in front of him.
“Where’s the vacation?”
“Some beach. They’re renting a beach house with Deku’s mom.”
“That sounds awesome,” Eijirou says, because it does. But then Bakugou fixes him with a glare.
“Sounds fucking miserable.” Bakugou’s eyes roll. Eijirou leans forward again.
“So you aren’t gonna to go?”
“Fuck no–”
“Why not?”
Bakugou finishes dicing the onion and his hands still.
“Because I don’t want to.”
He scrapes the onion pieces into the bowl beside the cutting board.
There’s a shift, the feeling of wading into uncharted territory. These words are not like the fire that Bakugou usually has raging around his head. No, this feels like something hotter, deeper, like the blue flame at the lip of a lighter. Eijirou tries to think of something to say, but thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Bakugou continues.
“She’s been trying to set me up with people. She’s been giving my number out like fucking candy to her co-workers’ kids. I had three different randoms texting me this week.”
Eijirou bites back a laugh. The image of some stranger trying to text Bakugou makes Eijirou’s cheeks twitch. They were probably so polite, suggesting a dinner date or a movie, not knowing that Bakugou was just going to respond with a “fuck off” and a quick blocking of their number.
“That’s… um…”
“Shut up, I know,” Bakugou answers. “And now we can’t even have one phone call without it turning into a conversation about my fucking love life.”
He growls around the syllables like they’re dirty. Eijirou’s response –barking laughter– earns him a truly steaming glare. It only makes him laugh harder.
“Love life?” he laughs. “How can she ask you about something that doesn’t exist?”
“Shut the fuck up Kirishima.” Bakugou slams the knife down on the countertop. “Why would I want to date anyone anyways?”
Eijirou grins. “Don’t worry bro, I don’t think anyone wants to date you either.”
Eijirou only has a second to bring his arms up and activate his quirk before Bakugou is shooting sparks at him, a fiery palm aiming straight at Eijirou’s hardening face. Eijirou laughs as the weak bursts of flame land dully against his defenses, and he can see the ghost of a smile tugging at Bakugou’s lips. When Bakugou pulls back, Eijirou lets his skin return to its normal state.
“See? So moody,” Eijirou rolls his eyes. “How could anyone even pretend to deal with that.”
Bakugou’s responding eye roll is a lot sharper than Eijirou’s. He returns to the vegetables.
How could anyone even pretend to deal with that?
“Wait!” –Bakugou jumps ever so slightly at Eijirou’s outburst– “That’s it!”
As Bakugou composes himself, he narrows his eyes at Eijirou.
“What the fuck are you going on about.”
“Pretend.”
To anyone else, the glare that Bakugou fixes him with would be insulting. “Am I supposed to know what you mean, or are you gonna translate, dipshit?”
Eijirou feels himself lean forward. “Pretend. You should pretend to have a–“ he stops, his breath drawing in from realization. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “Wait, does she know that you’re gay?”
Bakugou is glaring. Still. “Why are you whispering, dumbass.”
It’s a good question. Eijirou sits back and clears his throat.
“Well,” he says at a normal volume, “does she?”
“Un-fucking-fortunately,” Bakugou remarks.
Eijirou decides that they can unpack that response later. “As I was saying. Just pretend that you’re in a relationship. Tell her you’re dating someone, and she’ll stop trying to set you up with people.”
“Are you actually being serious right now,” Bakugou says, and though it’s phrased like a question, it’s actually a statement. A statement to Eijirou’s stupidity.
“Yeah!” Eijirou shrugs. “Why not?” He’s only half-serious, but he keeps going anyways. “You never see your family. This is the first time in what… six months? Just lie about it. They would never know.”
“I’m not doing that,” Bakugou seethes, his face going red. “Are you actually stupid?”
“Hey! I’m just trying to help!”
“Other than the fact that that is the worst idea I’ve ever heard, who would even agree to do something like that?”
“Agree to do what?”
“Agree to act like my– To pretend to be–“
He grabs a red bell pepper and stabs it with such force that Eijirou almost feels sorry for it. And then the realization washes over him.
“Dude,” Eijirou begins, “slow down. You don’t need anyone to actually pretend to be with you.”
“Bullshit,” –he pulls the knife out of the vegetable and stabs it again– “the minute I tell her about it, she’s going to make me bring the person with me on vacation. Or – fuck – try to come here to meet him herself–“
“Bakugou, you’re murdering that pepper in cold blood.”
Eijirou’s words break Bakugou from his spiral, and he pulls the knife from his victim. Eijirou swears that he sees the bell pepper sag in relief.
“Okay,” Eijirou continues, “so you have to find someone to pretend to be your boyfriend.” He ponders for a moment. “Ya know, people will do anything for money. You could put out a personal ad or something.”
Bakugou narrows his eyes, but this time not in an analysis of Eijirou’s intelligence. “A personal ad?”
“Like in the newspaper!” Eijirou says, then pauses. “Do they still do that? I mean, maybe not. I heard that in an old song once, so it probably isn’t a thing anymore…”
Bakugou is now back to the “questioning intelligence face.” Eijirou takes that as his cue to stop pondering the existence of personal ads.
“You basically just reach out to the public and ask if someone is willing to do a favor for you,” Eijirou explains. Bakugou grimaces.
“The media would shit themselves if I did that.”
Eijirou grimaces then as well, scenes from talk shows and newscasts playing in his head: “Dynamight makes plea to public, needs to convince mother that he’s getting laid.”
“And,” Bakugou continues, shaking Eijirou out of his visions of horrible clickbait headlines. “Your dumbass plan doesn’t account for the fact that my mom would want me to bring this person to the beach, and I don’t want to spend a week of my vacation time with someone I couldn’t give two fucks about.”
“Okay, so maybe someone you know?” Eijirou offers. “I bet Kaminari would do it for cheap– “
“I would rather fucking die.”
“Okay, okay, yeah, bad choice,” Eijirou laughs. Then, “What about Sero?”
Bakugou is glaring again. “No.”
“Okay, yeah, Mina probably wouldn’t appreciate that,” Eijirou concedes. He thinks for a second. Bakugou still hasn’t returned to cutting the vegetables, and is instead watching him from across the counter, arms folded in front of his chest.
“What about Todoroki? You guys are friends.”
“That would end just excellently.”
“Yeah,” Eijirou concedes. “I think he’s in Europe anyways…”
He tries to think of anyone else that Bakugou even kind of gets along with. The list is very short. There aren’t many people that Bakugou even tolerates, let alone could tolerate for a week-long vacation, and when you take women out of the equation, the list gets even shorter.
His stomach flips as he realizes who is left on that list, insides churning with the tenacity of old feelings. He ignores it, bracing himself for fiery impact before even opening his mouth.
“I mean, I guess there’s also… Me?”
Bakugou’s gaze turns immediately from the floor to him.
“I-“ He blinks. “I don’t even like you.”
“I mean, I’ve got nothing better to do. I could use some time away. I haven’t been to the beach in… a few years, I think? I really haven’t had time for a vacation. But I love swimming, and the beach is great. Even though the sand kinda sucks-“
“Shitty Hair,” Bakugou cuts in, and Eijirou doesn’t have time to decipher the look that Bakugou is giving him before he’s continuing. “If I agree to your dumb fucking plan, will you shut the fuck up?”
Eijirou feels his cheeks go pink as his jaw falls open. “Oh. Really?”
“I’m not paying you shit. You go through enough of my groceries as it is.”
“Hey, I brought cookies!”
“You bought cookies, thank fuck. Now get the hell out of my kitchen before you fuck something up. I don’t need some moron who can’t tell the difference between salt and sugar anywhere near my cooking.”
“That was one time!” Eijirou exclaims, but he cringes at the memory of the salty snickerdoodles he had brought over, products of his first real baking attempt.
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever put in my fucking mouth.”
Eijirou grins, but before he can even go for an innuendo, Bakugou catches his sharp-toothed smirk and begins to launch bursts of flame at him. Eijirou jumps up off of the barstool, a hardened arm raised for good measure, still grinning.
“Hey sweetheart, be a little nicer to your boyfriend,” he teases. Bakugou lets out a groan.
The explosions grow a bit in size, and as Eijirou dodges his attacks, he forgets to wonder what the hell he’s gotten himself into.
--
“You’re what?”
“Um,” Eijirou begins, “I’m… going to pretend to date Bakugou?”
Kaminari starts laughing. Like actually laughing.
“You’re joking, right?”
“No?”
And okay, now that Eijirou has said it out loud, it does sound a little crazy.
“Dude,” Kaminari says then, taking a second to realize that no, Eijirou is not joking, and yes, Eijirou is being completely serious. He blinks a few times, taking in the information.
“Please explain to me how this even happened.”
“Well,” Eijirou begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, his mom wouldn’t leave him alone about dating someone, and she’s been giving his number out to her co-workers’ kids-“
“So, you decided that to stop her, you should pretend to date?” Kaminari finishes, but it doesn’t sound final, because it is absolutely not a final statement. It is a statement that needs all kinds of explanation to even make sense.
“Yes?”
“And this was the best plan that you could come up with.”
“Well I tried to get him to ask you-“
“Oh my God,” Kaminari chokes. “I’d actually rather die.”
Eijirou laughs. “That’s kind of exactly what Bakugou said.”
Kaminari is giving him a look. It reads, “I cannot believe what I’m hearing” and “Fucking shit, my friend has actually lost it” and “Why do I have to have the same life as a secondary character in the world’s worst Netflix rom-com.”
But Kaminari doesn’t get the chance to voice these thoughts before the front door of the apartment opens. They both look up to watch Sero walk in, bags of groceries in his arms.
“Hey guys, what’s-“
“Sero,” Kaminari starts. “Please help him. Please help me. Please help me understand Kirishima’s reasoning behind pretending to date Bakugou.”
Sero stops dead in his tracks. “Wh- What?”
And great, now Eijirou’s got two people staring at him like he’s insane.
“It’s only going to be for a week,” he cuts in. “And it’s just to get his mom off of his back about dating someone, it’s not even going to be a big deal.”
He briefly explains to Sero what he had explained to Kaminari a few minutes before, detailing the phone call he had overheard, the beach trip, and what Bakugou had said about his mom.
“Dude,” Sero begins, walking over to the counter to set down his groceries. “I mean… I guess it kind of makes sense? But I don’t understand why you guys thought this would be the best plan.”
“Wait, how does any of this make sense?” Kaminari asks, bewildered. Sero continues to push things into the fridge and doesn’t turn around when he answers.
“I mean, it’s a little convoluted, I’m not denying that,” he says. “And I’m not saying that it’s going to work-“
“Exactly!”
“Hey, why not?” Eijirou frowns. It isn’t like Kaminari to doubt him.
“Dude, it’s Bakugou,” Kaminari begins. “I love him. I really do. But have you ever seen him be affectionate with anyone?”
“Well, I mean… He’s nice to us, sometimes.”
Kaminari scoffs. Sero snorts from the fridge.
Eijirou’s lips press into a thin line. He’s had enough experience with Bakugou to know that he really isn’t burning with rage all the time, that he has a cooler side, that the nitroglycerine on his skin isn’t always ready to combust. But has that temperature ever lowered enough to the point of affection?
“Well,” Eijirou supplies, “That’s why it’s called fake dating.” The sentence doesn’t keep the smugness from washing over Kaminari’s features. “Besides, I don’t get why you’re doubting me so much! Why can’t you just be supportive like Sero?”
“Because it’s Bakugou,” Kaminari sighs. “What if you try to hold his hand and he deep fries your fingers? Or punches you in the face?” He turns to Sero, who has finished putting away the groceries and is now folding up the paper grocery sacks. “Sero, please. You have to agree that that’s something that could happen.”
“Woah,” Eijirou interjects. “Hold his hand?”
“Is that not part of pretending to date?”
Eijirou blinks. “I mean, maybe?” Then he looks down at the floor. “I didn’t really think about it.”
Kaminari shakes their head. “How exactly are you planning on convincing his parents that you’re together?”
Eijirou finds that the carpet is steadily becoming more and more interesting. “I don’t know… We didn’t talk about it.”
Kaminari is still shaking his head. “Kirishima, I thought that I was supposed to be the dumb one,” he says, in total seriousness. “Sero’s the logical one, Ashido’s the popular girl, Jirou’s the emo, Bakugou’s the asshole, you’re the positive guy, and I’m the dumb one. But man, you’re really giving me a run for my money.”
Before he can tell Kaminari to stop calling himself that, Sero cuts in.
“I think what Kaminari is trying to say is that maybe you should put a little more thought into how you’re going to act around his parents before you show up claiming to be dating,” Sero says, and damn, maybe he is the logical one. Eijirou sighs.
“Okay, yeah, you guys are probably right.” He glances down at his phone where it lays on the coffee table. “I should… ask him about it.”
Eijirou grabs his phone and stands up from the couch. Kaminari sighs again, and Eijirou wonders how he can even breathe, what with all of these disappointed exhalations coming from him every thirty seconds.
“And you’re not even getting paid,” Kaminari groans as Eijirou begins to walk toward his bedroom. Whatever Sero says in response is cut off as he reaches his room and closes the door behind him.
He taps through his phone until he finds Bakugou’s contact and then flops backwards onto his bed.
[9:43 PM]
You: hey, so how are we going to convince your mom that we’re together?
[9:45 PM]
Bakugou: What do you mean?
Eijirou groans, because of course Bakugou doesn’t get it, and Eijirou can’t even blame him because he hadn’t thought of it either.
[9:47 PM]
You: ya know, like how
Eijirou can already hear Bakugou’s voice calling him a “dumb fuck” for that vague response, so he quickly types out a short elaboration.
[9:48 PM]
You: like are we holding hands or..
[9:48 PM]
Bakugou: Absolutely fucking not.
Of course. He huffs out a breath. Why should he have expected any different?
[9:50 PM]
You: ok, so what’s the game plan?
[9:58 PM]
Bakugou: Do we have to talk about this over text?
Eijirou recognizes it as Bakugou’s round-a-bout way of asking him to come over.
[10:00 PM]
You: i’ll come over tomorrow after work.
He doesn’t get a reply after that, which is typical Bakugou. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lets out one long, Kaminari-esque sigh.
-
[7:30 PM]
You: heading over now
[7:32 PM]
Bakugou: It’s open.
He’s two hours late.
Not that Bakugou will care. He works at his own job, knows how last-minute emergencies can lead to last-minute fights which then can lead to last-minute paperwork. And normally, Eijirou wouldn’t really care, either, except this time it’s different. This time, he isn’t heading over to Bakugou’s place for what has turned into their weekly ritual of dinner and video games, or going to pick up something he’d accidentally left, or bringing by some leftover muffins that Kaminari had made. No, this time he is going over to discuss the game plan for next week, the one that involves dating and Bakugou in the same sentence.
He hadn’t given it much thought before his conversation with Kaminari and Sero, but now, he feels almost on the verge of freaking out.
Probably because Kaminari was being so overdramatic about it. It doesn’t have to be weird.
At some point, he thinks, he’s probably going to have to confront the fact that maybe this isn’t actually a good idea. But not for the reasons that Kaminari had in mind.
He gets to Bakugou’s apartment complex and takes the stairs two at a time, pulling one hand out of his hoodie pocket to slide up the safety railing. He keeps going until he hits apartment 208, grabs the door knob, and lets himself in.
“Yes, mom, I’m going,” Eijirou hears as he steps inside, and he’s hit by a wave of déjà vu. It’s strange; this is probably the most that Eijirou has experienced Bakugou interacting with his mother since they were in high school.
As Eijirou closes the front door, Bakugou looks up from his seat on the couch, giving Eijirou a glance of acknowledgement as he presses his phone to his ear. While Eijirou is toeing his shoes off, he can’t hear what Bakugou’s mother is saying, but the muted voice coming from the other side of the call is loud and excited.
Eijirou walks over and flops onto the couch, letting his legs drape over Bakugou’s lap. He ignores the look that Bakugou gives him and instead notices, for the first time, how the thing doesn’t groan under the added weight, not like the putrid green sofa that sits in the center of Eijirou’s apartment. He wonders if it’s new; maybe ordered online or picked up from a furniture store. Would probably explain why every time Eijirou sleeps on it, he wakes up with a sore neck and a cracking spine.
“No,” Bakugou barks out. “I’m bringing someone… I–“ Bakugou goes a bit rigid, shooting a glance over at Eijirou that barely meets his eyes before looking away again. “I’m… seeing someone.”
Bakugou cringes at the excitement that bursts from his phone and jerks the device away from his ear. Eijirou feels his own shoulders relax, releasing tension he hadn’t even known he was holding.
“Yes… You know him… Well, maybe I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d fucking react like this...”
There’s more chatter from the phone, undecipherable to Eijirou. Then:
“Say that again and I’m changing my fucking mind,” Bakugou growls. “I’m hanging up.”
He pulls the phone away from his ear, ignoring the sounds of protest coming from the device. He taps the screen, ending the call, and drops his phone with a sigh. It lands on top of Eijirou’s shins.
“She sounds nice,” Eijirou tries, and Bakugou shoots him a glare. He wonders, briefly, why he even tries to put a label on the way that Bakugou looks at him. It’s always just a glare.
“She’s a piece of fucking work,” Bakugou answers, pushing Eijirou’s legs off of him as if they hadn’t been across his lap for the past few minutes. Eijirou sits up, pulling his legs in to sit criss-cross on the sofa, still facing Bakugou.
“It sounded like she took it well. I couldn’t really tell, it really just sounded like yelling-“
“I’m sure she’s ecstatic,” Bakugou responds, and Eijirou really isn’t sure if he’s being serious.
Bakugou picks up his phone, unlocking it and casually going through it. Eijirou places his hands on his knees, then brings one up to twirl at one of his hoodie strings, then repositions entirely, bringing one knee up to his chest.
“Spit it out,” Bakugou says. He lets his phone drop to his lap again and crosses his arms over his chest, straightening up from his slouched position.
“Okay, so, I was talking to Sero and Kaminari about all of this, and they said-“
“Wait, you told those idiots?”
“I mean, yeah,” Eijirou says. “They’re my roommates. You think they wouldn’t notice me leaving for a week?”
“Just-“ Bakugou shakes his head. “Just keep talking.”
“Well,” Eijirou starts again. “I think we should…”
He looks up, meets Bakugou’s gaze. Waiting, curious. He shrugs.
“Like, what’s the game plan? I think we should establish the rules,” Eijirou finishes. When Bakugou furrows his eyebrows, he continues. “Like, how… convincing should we be?”
And then Bakugou is straightening up even more, tearing his gaze away from Eijirou’s, refusing to meet his eyes. His arms tighten in their fold across his chest.
“You aren’t kissing me,” he growls. Eijirou rolls his eyes.
“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” he says, but there’s barely any bite to it.
He really almost wants to laugh; What are they even doing? Bakugou doesn’t seem to be finding this as funny as Eijirou, though.
“Fine,” Eijirou placates. “That’s a starting point. No kissing.”
“And keep your hands to yourself.”
“Like, completely?”
He knows that Bakugou probably would be the kind of guy that isn’t into PDA, but if they’re going to pretend to date, then Eijirou thinks they should at least be a little friendlier than usual.
The thought seems to cross Bakugou’s mind, too. He sighs. “I guess we could hold hands. I don’t know.”
Eijirou nods. He starts sorting things in his head into two different categories.
Kissing? No. Holding hands? That’s fine.
“What about pet names?” Eijirou asks. “Obviously not anything over the top like ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart,’” he watches as Bakugou cringes, but keeps going. “But what about ‘babe?’ Oh! Wait, should we use each other’s first names?”
Bakugou sighs. “That’s… fine.”
“Okay,” Eijirou says. “Katsuki.”
The syllables are foreign, yet his mouth wraps around them easily. The word hangs in the air, and it’s… Soft. Too Soft. So soft, it’s almost awkward. And Eijirou doesn’t want soft, he doesn’t want awkward, so he tries again.
“What if I start calling you Kacchan, like Midoriya does?” Eijirou grins while he says it, and the corners of his mouth pull up even further when Bakugou reacts exactly how Eijirou knew he would.
“Do you really think I won’t fucking kill you?” he growls, and Eijirou laughs, dodging the fist that comes flying at him. He dives forward, catching Bakugou around the middle, and holds on tight.
“Come on babe,” he teases. “You wouldn’t kill your perfect, amazing boyfriend, would you?”
“Fuck- Get off of me- Dumbass-“
Bakugou lurches forward in an attempt to shove Eijirou off of him, but c’mon, he’s fucking Red Riot and he doesn’t go down easily. As Bakugou shifts his weight forward, Eijirou holds tight, and soon they are both falling together in a heap to the floor.
He’s laughing, and Bakugou, even though he’s trying to look murderous, can’t help but let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he tries to push Eijirou off of him.
And there’s relief, because it doesn’t have to be awkward. The plan, the fake dating, it’s all so crazy, and unbelievable, and it seemed to come together so quickly that Eijirou never even had time to consider the possible consequences before he was signing up to fake-date one of his best friends for a week.
But it doesn’t have to be weird, he reminds himself. It doesn’t.