Katsuki Bakugo never looked forward to parent-teacher conferences. Of course, Haru was his kid, his entire damn world, and there was nothing more important to him. But these meetings? They were usually just a bunch of stiff conversations with old, boring teachers.

So when he walked into the first-grade classroom that evening, he was expecting to meet another one of those tired, gray teachers.

What the hell…

The guy sitting behind the desk was definitely not old. At all. No, he was young, and way too good-looking to be a damn elementary school teacher. Hair that fell just right, framing a face that was equal parts handsome and pretty. The sleeves of his button up were rolled up to reveal his forearms.

Bakugo stopped in his tracks for a second, his brain short-circuiting for just a moment before he forced himself to snap out of it.

"You must be Haru’s father," the teacher greeted, standing up and extending a hand.

"Tch. Yeah," Bakugo grunted, shaking it. His grip was firm, steady, his palm warm. Bakugo tried very hard not to think about it. "Bakugo Katsuki. So, my kid causing trouble or what?"

The teacher chuckled, shaking his head. "Not at all. Haru is a bright, kind boy." His eyes softened. "He talks about you a lot."

"Tch," he muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the chair, ignoring the pride in his chest. "So, what else? He good in class?"

The teacher nodded. "He’s doing great. Very sharp.”

The meeting went on from there—talking about strengths, ways to improve. But the whole damn time, Bakugo found himself distracted. The teachers smile was unfairly nice to look at.

By the time the conference wrapped up, Bakugo was feeling… weird.

"Thanks for coming in, Mr. Bakugo," the teacher said, standing up again. "Oh, and we have a festival next friday, in case Haru forgot to tell you. Perhaps i’ll see you there."

"Yeah," Bakugo grunted, standing up as well. He hesitated, before adding, "I guess."

He left the classroom quickly, trying to shake that weird feeling.