Chapter Text
Meeting the parents is a big step. The steps of all steps. The magnum opus of steps. A fundamental part to any good relationship and a crucial determiner of whether or not a couple will last.
At least, that’s what Ashido Mina said yesterday, when she took him shopping for a new suit. ‘This is a deal big,’ she’d claimed, as she led him through the mall with that ever-present nerve-wracking smile of hers– ‘big enough to warrant Saint Laurent.’ Given Mina described everything from the finale of The Winter I Turned Pretty to what was being served in the lunchhall that day as a big deal, Shouto had been fairly doubtful.
Later, Shouto, in a matching beige blazer and pants set, contemplated over the idea that Mina was just taking advantage of the fact that he had his father’s black card at his disposal and no fucks to give for how much he ran the man’s funds into the grounds.
Later, later, Shouto, standing in front of the Bakugou residence with roses clenched in his left fist and sweat drizzling down his other, contemplated the fact that Mina had been severely underrating this. Rather than Saint Laurent, an experience like this warranted a suit of armor and a sword. The young man felt more like he was heading off to battle rather than just meeting two regular, run-of-the-mill Japanese citizens.
To be fair, Bakugou Mitsuki and Bakugou Masaru weren’t just any two people. If they had been, this entire experience would be much easier. Allergic-to-any-and-all-social-interaction-Todoroki-Shouto would’ve happily treated this entire experience as he treated every interaction with new people. With a hum that could pass as a greeting and an immediate retreat to the closest empty room.
Shouto couldn’t imagine Katsuki being very happy if he weren’t even able to give his parents the decency of a greeting, though. And he couldn’t imagine Katsuki’s parents wanting their son to date anyone who couldn’t even prove to be at least a little bit fluent in the Japanese language.
Last night, he’d rehearsed what he was going to say over the phone with Mina until his jaw hurt. After, she’d made him respond to curve ball questions as though she was preparing him for an interrogation rather than just a regular old meet-cute. And then Mina made him write his introduction sixty times in a journal.
Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou. I’m Todoroki Shouto. It’s good to meet you. Your son is very special to me.
Halfway through, Shouto had texted her that the whole thing was way past overboard and stupid. Now, standing in front of the tall cedar door, with his fist raised in preparation to knock, Shouto scrambles to remember anything in that line past ‘Hello.’
When the door suddenly swings open, straight into his nose, it goes without saying that Todoroki Shouto is severely underprepared. Vision spinning, Shouto thinks he sees a comet fly past his face as he hurriedly announces, “Hello, Mr. Todoroki– I mean, Mrs.-- I mean, special to meet you. I mean, I’m Shodoroki.”
“Nailed it,” demon-Mina snickered, swinging her legs on his left shoulder.
Horrified, Shouto raised his gaze to find that– thankfully– only Katsuki had been standing before him to witness his blubbering introduction. Carmine eyes snapped from where they had been glued to the beige suit to meet his heterochromatic ones instantly, his cheeks pinkening the slightest bit the way it did when he got caught doing something sweet (like dragging a blanket over their classmates when they fell asleep in the common rooms or helping someone with homework).
“How long were you planning to stare at the damn door?” Katsuki demanded, mercifully choosing to ignore whatever the fuck Shouto had just blubbered out. More pointedly, the blonde demanded, “And why are you dressed like that?”
It’s only then that Shouto realized the severe chasm between their chosen outfits for the night. Whereas his outfit rounded up to nearly ten thousand dollars in its’ entirety, the blonde is decked out in Nike sweats and an oversized black sweatshirt that Shouto is pretty sure has been missing from his closet for months now. He’s not even wearing shoes, with only fuzzy Pokemon socks to cover his feet. Charmander’s wide smile feels mocking almost.
“You–” Shouto paused, tugging at a collar that suddenly feels far too tight. Accusingly, he said, “You said we were having dinner with your parents.”
Katsuki’s cheeks got even pinker at that, deepening quickly into a vibrant red. “I asked if you wanted to come watch the game with us and eat pizza.”
“Yeah, like the italian dish,” Shouto returned, defensively.
“No, like the takeout–” Katsuki paused, eyes falling shut and hands pressing against his mouth. Slightly muffled, he caved, “I– nevermind. God.” He goes on to mutter off a storm about billionaires, and unethical, and stupid idiots, but Shouto chooses to ignore it in favor of glancing around Katsuki to the long hallway past him.
On the walls hang dozens of pictures from the blonde’s youth. There’s him on his first bicycle, a brunette man with kind green eyes fretting over him in the edge of the frame. A pretty woman who looks as if someone had genderbent Katsuki is in a white veil in another picture, smiling happily as she damsel-carries the nice man from before. A younger Midoriya makes a surprising appearance in an old frame of him and Katsuki, in front of an All Might cutout.
A table with a green pot and a stack of letters sits in the middle of the hallway, matching the olive rug that runs all the way down to the doorway at the end of it. Light from a television dances across the pictures closest to the next room, the same place from where muted chatter is laced with the sounds of a popular sitcom theme song.
Somewhere past Katsuki, the real battle awaited.
Holding up his roses like a shield almost, Shouto raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked, unable to keep the eagerness from his tone. There was a picture of when the blonde still had more gums than teeth, just a tad too far for Shouto to make out anything else of the picture besides the cute chub of his cheeks. Craning his neck to see more, he frowns when Katsuki steps right into his path.
Arching an eyebrow, the blonde crossed his arms. Arms which were clad in Shouto’s Girl’s Generation sweater, Shouto felt it important to point out. It made the audacity of his next word all the more damning. “Nope,” Katsuki said, popping the ‘p’ annoyingly.
“No?” Shouto repeated, blinking slowly. He knew he wasn’t the best with social interactions in the first place, “but you invited me over?”
Katsuki shrugged, still not moving from the doorway. Rather, he keeps his arms crossed (in a sweater he literally does not own) and stands his ground as he begins to recite, “Mala ens, non invitaris ad invadendum hoc hospitium—"
Shouto’s just beginning to wonder if Katsuki also wrote down whatever the hell that was sixty times the night before when the blonde is cut off. And all at once, everything Shouto has ever questioned about Bakugou Katsuki clicks into place.
“KATSUKI! WHY ARE YOU HOLDING THE DOOR OPEN?! YOU’RE LETTING OUT THE A.C.! HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO LEAVE— oh, your friend’s here.” Bakugou Mitsuki is loud beyond belief, shaking the house with the force of her shouting– and then, like a flip of a switch, she’s demure and mindful and removing Shouto’s blazer straight from his shoulders.
Horrified, Katsuki cried, “Mom–”
But he’s seconds too late, shoved out of the way easily by his intimidatingly beautiful mother. “You must be cold, darling, come in, come in!” the woman insists, setting Shouto’s blazer on the coat rack her son had knocked into when she pushed him out of the way. “MASARU, COME HERE! You dressed so nicely, and are those for me? MASARU, BRING A VASE! My goodness, what a charmer! Shouto, Katsuki said your name was, right?”
Shouto managed a star-stricken hum in response, eyes flailing around the hallway as he was dragged down it.
Mitsuki smiled approvingly, her own eyes crinkling as she watched the young man’s gaze soften at each new picture he looked at. “What is that, Saint Laurent? That’s so in season.”
()
“And then– and then–” Bakugou said, sounding utterly defeated. It’s an odd tone for someone so battle crazy and victory obsessed. Hands digging into his hair, the blonde harped on, “My dad invited him over to dinner next Sunday. And my mom said he’s welcome into our home whenever he wants. She gave a vampire free admission to our property just whenever.”
Go Todoroki, Jirou mentally cheered. Already in with the parents.
“I don’t understand– what was the point of inviting him over?” Tanaka asked, scratching at zir temple with one of zir long claws. “Why not just do the… ‘experiment’ in the dorms during a weekday?”
Red eyes rolled as though that was a stupid thought. As though everyone was supposed to know that– “He’s already been invited into my dorm, he’s practically there every night. He’s probably even there right now.” You know, the same way a boyfriend would be.
But don’t get it twisted, he and Todoroki Shouto aren’t boyfriends. Of course not.
Jirou Kyouka feels like tearing her hair out. Fujiwara’s hand slammed over Tanaka’s mouth instantly before ze could share exactly what ze and zir smirk thought of that interesting new piece of information.
Bakugou Katsuki continued, nonchalantly, “It was the first time he’s come to my actual house, so I could test it there. Also, my parents kept asking about him, wanting to properly meet him for some reason.”
You know, the same way parents would want to meet their child’s love interest.
Shinsou matched gazes with Jirou. Ignoring her very clear mouthing of ‘DON’T’, eyebag-couture asked, “Why were your parents asking about Todoroki?”
Shrugging his shoulders, the blonde sighed. “I don’t know? I guess I just mentioned him once or twice and they were interested in meeting him for some reason.”
“What did they talk about with him?” Tanaka blurted, when Fujiwara’s hand slipped the slightest bit. It immediately slapped back into place, but the damage had been done.
“The game mostly, I guess,” the blonde said, thoughtfully. Squinting slightly, he snapped his fingers and nodded as he recalled, “Oh, and my dad talked with him for a long time in the living room after dinner.”
“About…” Shinsou prompted. Jirou’s mouth clamped shut, actually mildly intrigued by what Todoroki Shouto and Bakugou’s father, of all people, could have to speak to each other about. It would’ve been less weird if they’d just stared at each other in silence the whole time, knowing the alleged vampire’s penchant for awkwardness.
“That’s the weird part!” Bakugou said, as though the whole ordeal wasn’t strange. Like the blonde inviting his not-boyfriend over to meet his parents wasn’t the weirdest thing. “I came in right when my dad mentioned something about blessings. You don’t think Shouto got my parents in on this whole vampire shit, do you? Oh god, what if he bit my dad!”
Poor Todoroki, Jirou mentally reconsidered. If only he could get in with the son as easily as he did with the parents.
Recovering first from the thought, Tanaka gasped, mock serious. “What if!” ze echoed, slightly muffled, but nonetheless, far too effective at feeding into the blonde’s clear delusions.
“I have to prove it soon,” Bakugou determined, slamming his fist against his hand. Ignoring the rest of the group's wide-eyed and more reluctant reactions, the explosion-powered hero hyped himself up. “Enough is enough. He’s even coming after my parents now.”
“Bakugou,” Tokoyami bemoaned, feathers closing around himself to hide from the undoubtable incoming trainwreck.
“I didn’t want to take it this far, but I have no choice anymore,” the blonde decided.
“Woah, woah, wait– how far?” Fujiwara said. “Like what do you mean by that?”
“My hands are tied,” Bakugou announced, dramatically, as he stood.
“They really aren’t,” Shinsou deadpanned, gesturing to the blonde’s very much untied hands.
Undeterred, Bakugou continued, “This was my last resort, but it’s unfortunately come to this.”
“Bakugou, calm down,” Jirou warded, grimacing.
But Bakugou Katsuki had already turned and fled the room with a final, “Next week! At the Spring Festival! It’ll be undisputable then!”
“Oh my god, he’s going to stab Todoroki Shouto in front of the entire school,” Fujiwara cried, burying her face in her hands.
()
Sprawled across Bakugou Katsukis’ bed, Todoroki Shouto smiled.
The meeting with the parents went perfect. He had Bakugou Masaru’s blessing.
Give him a week, and he’ll be dating his son.