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“Deku,” says Kacchan.
Izuku looks up. And up and further up, until he’s staring at the ceiling because Kacchan is wearing a very skimpy negligee that she probably thinks counts as underwear. It doesn’t. It’s lingerie. There’s a difference; underwear is what regular people wear. Lingerie is lacy and dangerous to look at, especially when it’s on a blonde twenty-four year old with a truly inspiring muscle-to-fat ratio.
Izuku takes a deep breath and tries to ignore his brain screaming lavender. “Yes, Kacchan?”
Kacchan stares at him. She’s leaning against the doorframe, hip cocked and one brow raised when Izuku dares to look her in the eye. She sighs, and pads into the room to roll around on his bed. “Forget it.”
“Okay.” Kacchan buries her face in a limited-edition All Might plushie, and Izuku continues his paperwork. “Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but is there any reason you have no clothes on?”
“I have clothes on.”
“Those are not clothes.”
“Are too.”
“They are not,” Izuku says, signing off on a damage report and adding it to the pile on his desk. “Instagram has that poll feature now, right? We could ask the public.”
A pillow bounces off his head. Izuku snickers and swivels his chair around so Kacchan can pout at him face to face. “I’m joking. I’m not putting your underwear on social media, even if you never seem to wear anything else.”
“I have plenty of clothes,” Kacchan says haughtily. She stretches out like a cat, and Izuku resolutely keeps his eyes on her face. “You’re the one who wears the same three tacky shirts on rotation.”
“All my other shirts keep ending up in your room. I’ve lost countless hoodies to you.”
“They’re comfy.”
“They’re twice your size.”
“Well it wouldn’t be a problem if we just shared a room,” Kacchan huffs. “We could have gotten a nicer apartment for the same rent if you hadn’t insisted on a two-bedroom.”
“We can’t just share a room! What would your parents think?”
“Fuck my parents.”
“What would my parents think?”
“Fine, god, you’re such a prude,” Kacchan rolls her eyes and sits up. The All Might toy sits comfortably on her lap, mercifully shielding her transparent negligee from view. “Sometimes I think you care about your mother more than me.”
“I care about you both,” Izuku says gently. “In very different ways, might I add.” The dynamics are completely different. For one, if Inko ever decided to walk around their apartment only half-dressed, Izuku might actually have an emotional breakdown.
There’s a loose thread coming off the sleeve of All Might’s jumpsuit, and Kacchan picks at it quietly. Her fingernails could use a trim. She’s still got pretty hands, though, even with skin roughened from years of sparks and fighting. “Mama’s boy.”
Izuku suppresses a smile. “Well, my mother is kind of the reason I’m alive. I’d put her in a box of her own. Aside from her, though, you’re still my favourite person.”
Kacchan looks up at him through her eyelashes. “Even more than All Might?”
“Well, he did leave a big impact on my formative years—ouch,” Izuku says, letting the plushie hit him in the face. “Kacchan. I don’t live with All Might. I didn’t ask him to team up with me, to be my partner. I asked you.”
“Damn right,” Kacchan says, clearly pleased. “Deku, I…Izuku.”
“Yes?” Izuku says, tilting his head.
Kacchan takes a deep breath. Chews on her lower lip in the briefest display of vulnerability, and then looks him in the eye. “You’re my favourite person too. Do you,” she says, voice soft and a little shaky. “Will you make me miso soup every morning?”
Izuku blinks. She sits still, hands clenched in her lap, waiting for an answer. Izuku thinks of the time he’d mixed up the rice cooker and pressure cooker and ended up with porridge on the ceiling. “I don’t mind, but couldn’t you do better?”
“Jesus Christ,” Kacchan says, mouth doing a funny thing like it doesn’t know whether to scowl or smile. “Yes, I’m amazing. No, I couldn’t do better. Cut me a break from your humble shit and say yes.”
“Okay,” says Izuku, baffled. Kacchan lets out a wobbly breath and stands, coming close so she can curl up in his lap. She smells like caramel and coffee. Izuku, unsure where to put his hands, looks at the ceiling and tries not to blush. “I, uh, not that this isn’t very nice but are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Kacchan says. Sniffles, really, but her face is buried in Izuku’s hair so he can’t look up to check. She wraps her arms around his neck and he resolutely ignores how close his face is to her chest. “Do you really mean it?”
“Sure? I’m just surprised. It’s kind of out of the blue.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about it, I just…it felt right.”
Awkwardly, Izuku pats her on the knee. “As long as you’re happy. Uhm, I don’t want to ruin the moment and I know you’re pretty big on physical contact but can we keep the cuddling to when you’re fully dressed?”
Kacchan pulls away. Her eyes are a little misty but she laughs at the redness of Izuku’s face. “Okay, Mister Conservative. I’ll go put some clothes on and then we’ll talk.”
“I promised my mother I’d visit today.”
“Fine,” Kacchan says, sighing like she’s put upon. She smiles, though, unfolding her long legs so she can clamber off of Izuku with a grunt. He plants his feet so the desk chair doesn’t roll backwards. “I should probably talk to my folks too. My mom’ll get all pissy if I don’t.”
“You should really see them more often,” Izuku says, wishing his ears weren’t so warm. “They miss you, you know.”
“Okay, mama’s boy,” Kacchan says and turns on her heel. Her steps are light and happy. And her negligee is also see-through from the back, Izuku realises, which doesn’t help the shyness making itself known on his face. It‘s like he’s fifteen again. “You’d better be staring at my ass.”
“I’m not!” Izuku says, and then backtracks. “I’d better be?”
Kacchan looks over her shoulder and smiles. She’s really attractive. “I bought this stupid underwear for a reason, Deku.”
Izuku swallows. “It looks…nice,” he manages, and Kacchan laughs at him and leaves.
Izuku stares at a pot of miso soup the next morning, trying to remember if the tofu goes in first or last.
Kacchan yawns at him on her way to the coffee maker. It’s not unusual for her to wake up later than he does. She’s not lazy by any means, but Izuku’s never seen her willingly give up eight hours of sleep a night. “What’s that?”
“Miso soup,” Izuku says, frowning deeply. “As requested.”
There’s silence for a second. Kacchan starts to laugh, quiet and full-bodied. Izuku stares at her. It’s very rare to hear her laugh, even when it’s just the two of them. Not the cackle-laugh or the snort-huff. This laugh sounds musical, kind of like bells. “I didn’t mean in literally, you idiot.”
“Why’d you ask, then?” Izuku says plaintively. “I’ve been here for twenty minutes.”
“Miso soup should not take twenty minutes to make,” Kacchan says and comes to investigate. She’s still smiling. “You put the miso in too early. It loses its flavour when you boil it.”
“Oh,” says Izuku. “That’s a waste.”
Kacchan takes a sip from the ladle. “Flat. But I’ll accept it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You made me soup, I’m getting my soup,” she says, resting her head very briefly against Izuku’s shoulder. “Go get the rice cooker, would you? I feel like a traditional breakfast today.”
She ends up taking over the cooking, but makes Izuku set the table like always. Makes a lot of noise, while she’s at it, which is how Izuku knows that she’s enjoying herself. Kacchan’s loud by default but it’s only on very good days that she rants for ten minutes about fish taking too long to cook. It’s delicious, though. She spoils him. Izuku would have been happy with just a bagel.
“So I was looking at wedding dates,” she says. “I’m thinking March.”
Izuku chokes on his omelette. Partly because she’s just decided to play footsie with him under the table, and partly because what the fuck. “You—what? Wedding dates?”
“Well, yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Better sooner than later, right? It’ll be nice to do it in spring.”
“Why?”
“Well the ceremony can happen outdoors, and the weather’s just nice.”
“No, I mean,” Izuku puts his chopsticks down. Kacchan chews her mackerel, supremely unconcerned at Izuku’s frantic hand-wringing. “The wedding part? Kind of sudden, don’t you think?”
“It’s six months from now.”
“No, the wedding, like, as a whole.”
Kacchan shrugs. “The proposal was sudden too.”
“It was?”
“Well, yeah,” she says, picking at her breakfast a little bashfully. “It’s not like I was really planning on popping the question like that. Thinking about it, yeah, but it kinda just slipped out. The moment seemed right, you know?”
“Oh,” Izuku says numbly. Who is it, he wants to ask, but a thought makes him hesitate. She’s been seeing someone. For a long time, most likely, but she’d never said anything about it to Izuku. Had moved in with him and started a hero duo and had never once thought to tell him about the person she’d been intending to marry. “Kacchan. You know that you can always talk to me, right?”
“That’s what I’m doing.” She rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifts into a crooked smile. “So, March? I’m open to ideas.”
“March sounds great,” Izuku says. Breakfast has suddenly become completely unimportant. “I, uhm. Have you told anyone else yet?”
“Just my parents. Told them yesterday when I went to see them. Mom flipped her shit and dad cried, as usual.”
So it had been a shock for them too. “Are they happy?”
“Of course they’re happy, numbskull,” Kacchan says but squeezes his hand to soften her words. “They’ve been waiting for ages.”
“You’re only twenty-four.”
“That’s what I said! But Mom started haranguing me about wedding plans and all that shit. She says I’m not allowed to do a traditional Japanese ceremony ‘cause it won’t be fashionable or whatever.”
Izuku has a brief vision of Kachcan in a white kimono. “Do you want a traditional Japanese ceremony?”
She shrugs. “A little. But I think she really wants to make the wedding dress so I’ll let her have her fun. ‘Sides, I guess I already got a traditional proposal.”
Right, one of those super vague but romantic ones. “You’re surprisingly demure. Suits you, though.”
She kicks his ankle. “We should start looking at wedding venues. Something outdoorsy would be good.”
“We?”
“Yes, we,” Kacchan says and kicks his ankle again, slightly harder. “You think I’m gonna do all the work myself?”
“Well, no, but, I mean, this isn’t really my job—”
“The hell it isn’t,” she snorts. “You think you get to just show up and look pretty? Fat chance. Weddings are a lot of work. I’m doing all the important shit, but you have to help.”
“I wouldn’t call myself pretty,” Izuku says meekly.
“Of course that’s the only part you listen to,” Kacchan rolls her eyes. “Speaking of which, we need to get you a suit. My dad can help you with that. Oh, and match your tie to the colour scheme. Once we pick it, I mean.”
Izuku put his face in his hands. “This is a lot of information to take in at once.”
“You’ll do fine,” Kacchan says, grinning. “Everything will be perfect. It’d better be, anyway, or I’ll have to send a few heads rolling. You’re not exempt.”
“Got it,” Izuku lies. He doesn’t got it. His head is still reeling from the thought of Kacchan is getting married to a stranger and I have to learn how to plan a wedding. “I…I’ll do whatever you need me to. You deserve a lovely ceremony.”
Her smile softens. She looks so young when she smiles like that, unruffled by the violence of hero work and all the scars she’s collected over the years. “It’ll be the best day of our lives.”
Izuku nods. His brain kind of feels like it’s fallen out of his skull, but he dredges up a smile just for her. “I don’t doubt it one bit.”
That night, when the shock has worn off a little, Izuku stares at the vintage All Might poster on his ceiling and thinks. “She’s a private person,” he mumbles, thoughts slowly slotting into place until something makes sense. “She’s kept secrets before.”
Not from Izuku, to be fair, but that’s less because she’s forthcoming and more because he just knows her. Has spent all his life around her, understands her well enough that he can usually guess what’s on her mind. He’d known she was scared of thunder when they were six. She’d never told him, but he’d noticed her flinch, how she’d squeeze her eyes shut and refuse to look out the window until he held her hand.
So she’s in love with someone, and Izuku had missed it. Which is awful, and he should apologise for being a terrible friend. But she’d never mentioned it. Not even in passing, because Izuku would have remembered. He would have paid attention if Kacchan had ever said something as momentous as there’s someone I want to marry someday.
She must have kept it a secret on purpose. Why, though? It’s not like Izuku’s going to judge her for loving someone. Unless it’s a villain. Which it probably isn’t.
…Unless it is. Izuku’s heard of Stockholm syndrome. Maybe she developed an unfortunate crush after getting kidnapped that one time. Maybe she’s marrying Shigaraki. They’ll have to buy fourteen wedding rings, one for each dismembered hand.
“Nobody can afford fourteen wedding rings, don’t be stupid,” Izuku says, scrubbing his own hands across his face. Anyway, Shigaraki’s in jail. Kacchan must just want to keep her private life private, even from Izuku. Maybe it’s just someone he’s never met and she never thought to introduce them until now.
He shouldn’t pry. She kept it secret for a reason. Izuku may not like it, but there’s no way he won’t respect her privacy.
“I just wish she’d told me,” he sighs to himself, rolling over so he’s face-down against the pillow. It seems they’re not as close as he’d thought. They may live and work together, but maybe that’s just it. Maybe their falling-out as kids never really got resolved, and Kacchan doesn’t think of him the way he thinks of her. She may be his best friend, but maybe he isn’t hers.
The thought kind of hurts. He’ll be happy for her, though. He cares about her, whatever said and done, so he’ll do whatever she needs him to do to make her special day perfect.
I just hope I’m invited, he thinks, and spends three hours moping in bed until sleep finally comes to the rescue.
“I’m being horrible,” is the first thing Izuku says when he wakes up. The alarm clock doesn’t respond, but Izuku gets the feeling that it would agree if it could.
The shower’s hot enough to turn his skin red. “I should be happy for Kacchan. It’s not really my business what’s happening in her love life.”
“And she needs help with the wedding,” he continues through a mouthful of toothpaste. “I can’t just abandon her. That would be unacceptable. Unheroic, even.”
“That means getting organised,” he says and towels off his hair. Maybe the blue t-shirt today, the one that says pants. And the pants that say shirt on the back pocket. “And doing the legwork, and not complaining or snooping.” Even though it would be really easy to follow her around for a couple of days just to see who she meets up with in her free time.
“Kacchan!” he says and bursts out of his bedroom. “I’m gonna make this the best damn wedding you’ve ever had!”
She doesn’t answer. A quick peek into her room reveals that she’s not actually at home. Izuku deflates and tries not to feel embarrassed about shouting into an empty apartment.
There’s a yellow post-it note stuck to the fridge when he goes looking for breakfast. Rearranging my patrols, it says in Kacchan’s scratchy handwriting. Izuku can feel the words on the other side like braille because Kacchan always presses down way too hard on the pen. Be back for lunch. Don’t eat all my kimchi or I’ll kill you.
Guiltily, Izuku puts back the kimchi. It’s quiet without Kacchan around. “At least she’s not here to nag me for eating leftover spaghetti at 9AM,” he sighs, digging out a Tupperware. He doesn’t even heat it up first, just to spite her a little bit.
Maybe he should call someone, actually. He hasn’t spoken to Uraraka in a while. Her contact icon is a terrible selfie that Izuku will never delete, and she picks up on the fourth ring with a chirpy good morning.
“Guess what I’m having for breakfast,” Izuku says in lieu of greeting.
Uraraka hums. Her voice is a little tinny over the speakers but it’s still comforting. “Something weird. Fried chicken? Or a whole lasagne.”
“Close,” Izuku grins. “It’s spaghetti.”
“Ugh.” Kacchan always says the same, although with Uraraka it’s less disgust and more jealousy. “You know what I had today? Fruit. And yesterday? More fruit. Some of us can’t eat 8,000 calories a day, Deku-kun.”
“I’m bigger than most people.”
“Steroids.”
“I do not take steroids!”
“Liar. The reason so few people passed UA’s entrance test is because you ate them all.”
“If I ate anyone it would be strictly villains.”
“Yeah, I know. Muscleman’s biggest muscle is his heart.”
Izuku snorts into his spaghetti. “I hear traffic. Where are you?”
“Iida went running so I thought I’d visit that café down the street. I’m walking home now. What are you up to?”
“Planning a wedding, apparently.”
“What? Whose?”
“Kacchan’s, and—”
“Bakugou? Wait. Bakugou and— oh my god. Oh my god! Who popped the question?”
“She did. But—”
“Deku-kun!” Uraraka shrieks. Izuku holds the phone away from his ear. “This is amazing! Oh my god, I’m so happy, this is great news!”
“I’ll tell her you said so,” Izuku says. “I hear a commotion, is everything okay?”
“What? Nothing, it’s just my coffee floating away. Can I tell Iida? Can I tell everyone? Can I, can I?”
“Okay, just our friends for now, maybe.”
“Tell me if there’s any way I can help! Do you have a date set?”
“Sometime in spring, and a western-style ceremony,” Izuku says and eats more pasta. Someone in the background cheers intrepid floating drink on. “Maybe you should rescue your coffee?”
“Never mind the coffee! Oh my gosh, I love looking at wedding photos! There’s so much fun stuff to do; you have to pick a theme and Bakugou’s dress and the food and the venue and your suit and my dress and the bridesmaids dresses and oh my god can I be a bridesmaid?”
“You’re gonna have to ask Kacchan when she gets home. Maybe slower so she understands you, though.”
Uraraka makes a high pitched noise that Izuku might have been able to translate if he had a dolphin handy. “Promise you’ll ask her to call me!”
“It’s really sweet how happy you are about this.”
“How can I not be?” Uraraka squeals. Izuku can just imagine her doing that excited tip-tap thing dogs do with their feet. “Ask Bakugou for me! I’m not talking to you again until you do!”
“Okay, but—”
She hangs up on him. Izuku sighs at the dial tone and finishes his spaghetti.
She hadn’t sounded shocked. Surprised, yeah, but not like the idea of a wedding came out of the blue. Whoever Kacchan’s marrying, Uraraka probably knows about them. And approves, considering how happy she’d sounded. Probably not Shigaraki, thank god.
Another hero, maybe? Could be someone they all know. Kacchan doesn’t get along with very many people, but Kirishima’s still her best friend. Maybe they’ve always been more than friends and Izuku just hadn’t noticed. “But Kirishima’s with Ashido,” he mutters, getting up for some coffee. Milk and three sugars go into a chipped mug. He’s sure he’s seen them kiss.
Maybe all three of them are together, like Todoroki with Yaomomo and Jirou. Polyamorous marriage isn’t legal yet, though. And Kacchan had said mom wants to make the wedding dress. Dress, in plural. One bride. Unless Ashido prefers suits. Which, if the feather boas and short skirts are anything to go by, she doesn’t.
It can’t really be a secret if Kacchan wants help planning the wedding. Izuku must just be blind then. He can’t even ask Uraraka. Or anyone else, because then they’ll know that the person living with Kacchan doesn’t even know who her partner is.
“Okay,” he breathes out through his nose. No need to panic. He can just keep an eye out for clues. Like anyone who seems closer to Kacchan than normal. Or rings! There must be engagement rings, probably even matching ones. He just has to see if someone’s wearing one that looks like Kacchan’s. He hasn’t actually seen her ring, though. He drinks three coffees and waits for Kacchan to return, trying to figure out how to ask her to show him without coming off as too nosy.
She finally comes home around half past twelve, wearing a light jacket over her hero uniform. No gauntlets, though, since she has spares at the office and at home. “Hey, you. Where’s my coffee?”
“In the machine,” Izuku says dutifully. She hums in satisfaction to pour herself a cup, bitter and near-boiling. “How was your morning?”
“I moved some patrols around and told the interns to cover emergency response for us. Best time I could find in March was the 6th to the 8th, almost the whole office is free. I say the 7th is a good wedding date. I fixed your schedule for it too.”
“Excellent foresight,” Izuku says, scooting over so she can join him on the loveseat. She puts her feet in his lap. “Who’s invited?”
“Let’s keep it small. Ex-classmates, some family, some heroes?”
“Sure,” says Izuku. Her coffee’s in her right hand, and her left hand is on her knee. He can’t see it because of the angle. Subtly, he runs his fingers over hers, feeling for metal.
She holds his hand. “Can I help you?”
Oops. “I notice you’re not wearing a ring.”
“No point.” She shrugs. “I can’t wear anything on my hands because of my quirk, remember?”
“Oh.” Rats. That’s one big lead gone. “You don’t want one?”
She squeezes his fingers. “Don’t look so disappointed. I’m just saying I don’t want an engagement ring. We’ll still get the matching wedding rings and I’ll wear mine around my neck.”
“So how many rings does that make?”
“Uh, two? One each?”
Definitely not Shigaraki. And not polyamoury, either. “Okay. I told Uraraka, by the way. She wants to be a bridesmaid.”
“Yeah, okay.” Settling back against the arm of the couch, Kacchan sips her coffee and sighs. “There are so many people to tell. So much to do.”
“Don’t stress,” Izuku says, Kacchan’s fingers still conspicuously laced with his. “One step at a time. I feel like you don’t want a wedding planner?” he asks. She shakes her head. “You want full control. Okay. Maybe let’s start with a list of things to do, doesn’t have to be in order. You’ve already got the date out of the way, which is big.”
“Yeah. Does your shirt say pants?”
“My pants also say shirt.”
“I hate you.”
They end up getting delivery. The sun’s long gone down by the time they’re done making their to-do list, arranged in order of most to least pressing. Pick a venue is right at the top, with booking, payment, timeslot in parentheses.
Kacchan’s a lot happier with a concrete idea of where to go from here. She sighs and melts all over Izuku’s side, laptop open with sixteen different tabs of scenic places around Tokyo. “Is it weird that I’m enjoying myself?”
“No,” Izuku says, allowing her to hug his arm. “Weddings are supposed to be fun.”
“For the guests.”
“For you, too. They’re like a culmination of all your favourite things and people. And you get a fancy dress.”
“Maybe I should grow my hair out so I can do something with it.”
“The pixie cut suits you, though,” Izuku hums, scratching his fingers gently across her scalp. Her hair is soft. “I don’t remember you ever having hair past your shoulders.”
“I had pigtails when I was a toddler.” Izuku tries to stop stroking her hair, but she snatches his hand back and places it back where it belongs. “Hair gets in the way.”
“Okay. You’re like a cat.”
“Shut up and pet me.”
He does as he’s told. Kacchan feels soft and light against his shoulder, even despite all her muscle and grit. And she smells good. Like caramel, which is probably the nitroglycerin she got from her mother. “Kacchan,” he prompts before she can doze off. “I want you to know that I’m always here for you and you deserve the best in life, okay?”
“That’s funny,” she laughs. “That’s exactly how I feel about you.”
The weeks kind of fly by. When they’re not working, they’re planning the wedding, fielding excited phone calls from extended family and long lost friends. The mysterious groom (it’s a man, Izuku’s learnt) never makes an appearance, but the longer he waits the harder it is to bring up the question. And Kacchan seems so happy. It’s probably not worth offending her and potentially starting a fight.
Izuku does his patrols with even more vigour than usual, leaping over buildings bathed in moonlight and watching over the city he loves. “And then my mother has the nerve to ask me when she can expect some grandkids! Can you believe that?”
“What did you say?”
“I said she should be asking Blasty, not me.”
Hitoshi snorts over the intercom, voice deep and vaguely amused. “It takes two to do the horizontal tango, Deku.”
“In this house we are respectful towards women and don’t talk about their private activities,” Izuku says, glad that Hitoshi’s all the way at base and can’t see him go pink under his mask. “Also thanks for giving me that image I didn’t need.”
“As if you don’t see her naked every day.”
“Once! That was once! She forgot to lock the door to the shower! Wow, now I have to repress that all over again.”
“I could help.”
“Thanks, Sandman, what would I do without you?”
There’s a mugging happening around the corner. Izuku swoops in, knocks the culprit out, gives the lady back her handbag and calls her a cab home. The criminal’s unconscious body is left handcuffed to a mailbox for the police to collect later. “Oh, she told me to ask you if you wanted to be a groomsman. You in?”
“Well, I dunno, Deku. You’re not asking me yourself?”
“I have no say in the matter.”
“Of course you don’t. Say, on a scale of one to Bridezilla, how’s she doing with the planning?”
“Six,” says Izuku truthfully. “It’s absolutely going to get worse. You haven’t answered my question, by the way.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Hitoshi says, without intonation. Izuku can tell he’s pleased, though. “What am I wearing?”
“Oh, good question. I should ask her about the colour scheme. I’m near a 7-Eleven, you want anything?”
“Coffee.”
“You don’t need more caffeine.”
“I’m on the night shift, you know.”
Izuku rolls his eyes and opens the shop door, welcoming the warm blast of air that hits him. The cashier does a double take and Izuku waves sheepishly. Nobody else is around, which is nice. Fans are always sweet but signing autographs takes forever. “You can have tea.”
“I hate you.”
“I know, dear,” Izuku says and grabs some juice for himself. The cashier glances at him and then at one of the magazines on the stand next to him. Izuku’s on the cover. Deku is, to be exact. “Hey, I’m on the front of Hero Watch.”
“The gossipy tabloid one?”
“Yeah, the bad one. Blasty’s here too.” Someone had snuck a shot of them both at some event, with Kacchan dressed to the nines and frowning into her wineglass. Izuku’s in a suit she’d picked, gazing at her with the softest, sweetest expression. “Wow, why do I look so sappy?”
“What does it say?”
“Dynamic duo to be wed,” he says, and then winces. “Oh, boy.”
“What?”
“Kacchan’s not going to like this.” Frowning, he pays for the magazine and the drinks and steps back out into the cold night air. “Crap, she’s gonna be so mad.”
“Was the wedding a secret?”
“Well, no, but that’s not the point,” Izuku says, leaping into the air so he can get back to base and hand the next shift over to Tokoyami. “First of all, press at a hero wedding is always a bad idea. I’m gonna have to tighten security in case anyone tries to gate crash.”
“Half your guests are professional heroes. Security’s kind of a given.”
The cityscape blurs by. Their base office, a nondescript floor in some office building, draws nearer with every super-powered step. “I suppose so. It’s gonna be a pain in the ass, though.”
“If you find a reporter, just set Blasty on ‘em. Set an example for the others.”
“That’s cruel,” Izuku says, coming in from the balcony. Hitoshi hardly flinches. He’s surrounded by monitors, overseeing the patrol route and periodically checking in with the police for news. Izuku shoves aside a takeout box and tosses the magazine onto Hitoshi’s desk. “No, but look at this cover. Look at it.”
Hitoshi looks. “That’s a nice dress.”
“It is, but that’s not the point,” Izuku says jabbing a finger at his two-dimensional self. “What the hell are they saying?”
“Who cares? It’s not like anyone takes them seriously. Where’s my tea?”
“In the bag. Can you at least pretend to be concerned?” Izuku says plaintively over the crinkle of plastic. “They’re out there reporting nonsense and Kacchan will have my head.”
Hitoshi hums and flips to page eight. “They think you’re getting married in June in Hawaii.”
“None of that is true! Where are they getting their info?”
“Look, they’ve been making conjectures about you two for years. Last year they said you were brother and sister. The year before that they said Bakugou used to be a man. What makes you think anyone’s going to be taking them seriously this time?”
“I mean, I guess,” Izuku deflates, pulling up a chair and flopping onto it listlessly. On the monitor Dark Shadow glides effortlessly through the night sky. “But they just make up these bold-faced lies. They even photoshopped my face!”
“Where?”
“That look,” Izuku says, flustered. “Since when do I look at anyone like that? Like she put the stars in the sky. I look like a guy in a Victorian romance novel. And my shoulders aren’t that big.”
Hitoshi snorts into his tea. “You don’t have any mirrors at home do you?”
“I do, what’s your point?”
“I’m just glad shy Deku’s still there. Buried under a hundred kilograms of muscle, but still alive.”
Izuku decides not to say he weighs rather more than that. “You’re the idiot who started calling me beefcake after I hit my growth spurt.”
“Your self-esteem was too low,” Hitoshi says, matter-of-fact. “It was a concerted effort by all of your friends to make you realise you were attractive.”
“By flirting incessantly.”
“No, the goal was just to compliment you. The flirting was for fun.”
Izuku rolls his eyes, a little bashful. “God, you guys used to whistle whenever I got changed. I thought you were making fun of me. Kacchan was so angry, I think she was jealous I got bigger than her.”
“I doubt that’s why she got jealous,” Hitoshi says dryly. “Look, don’t worry about the tabloids. I’m willing to bet they’re bullshitting and just happened to strike gold. Blasty’s not going to care about what they say and neither should you.”
“You’re probably right,” Izuku sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, I’m so tired.”
“Go home. You’re out past your curfew anyway.”
“That’s not what I meant and I don’t have a curfew. I’m a big boy, Hitoshi.”
Hitoshi looks him up and down. “You sure are.”
Izuku swats him with the rolled up magazine. “My chastity isn’t safe around you. Ugh, they’re so embarrassing. Kacchan’s gonna see this and she’ll either hit me or laugh at me, and I don’t know which will hurt more.”
“Why would she laugh?”
“Ground Zero with a loser like me?” Izuku says, standing up and stretching. “That would offend her. She’d sooner date Aizawa.”
Hitoshi pauses. “I see.”
“Yes,” Izuku says, already at the doorway. Hitoshi’s expression is thoughtful, brows drawn together and sleepy eyes trained on him. “Anyway, you’re probably right. I guess I just won’t tell her, there’s nothing useful we can do anyway.”
“I suppose not,” Hitoshi says finally. His fingers are steepled together, and he only nods when Izuku wishes him good luck for the rest of the shift.
Izuku heads home. The magazine’s in his hand, and he leaves it in his room because Kacchan will probably see it if he puts it in the recycling. She’s already in bed by the time he gets back, but dinner’s in the microwave waiting to be heated up. It’s poached salmon, which is delicious, and Izuku hums quietly as he does the dishes.
Hitoshi’s right. They must be bullshitting if they managed to get the groom wrong, so there’s nothing worth panicking about. He has a wedding to plan and no time to be worrying about rumours. They’ll know better once Kacchan’s tied the knot, anyway.
Relieved, he goes so bed, and only realises the next day that he forgot his juice.
“Aoyama says he knows a great decorator and Jirou wants to do the music.”
“Tell him to give me the number. And say yes to Jirou, she’s good.”
Izuku texts them both. Aoyama replies almost immediately, but Jirou will likely get back to him sometime in the morning. “He’s asking if there’s a colour scheme.”
“Oh, right. Well, I wanted firecrackers. The orange trumpet flowers,” she elaborates when he stares at her. “They’re pretty and they stand out. You pick something too.”
“Why me? It’s your decision.”
“Don’t get all noble,” she rolls her eyes. “I want you to have a say too.”
Oh. “Well, my mom really likes carnations. And, uhm, my favourite colour is green.”
Kacchan nods. “Alright. That could work. Firecrackers and green carnations , maybe with some white to balance it out. Orange dresses for the bridesmaids and green ties for the groomsmen. And white flowers? Or green and orange again?”
“Save the green and orange for yourself,” Izuku offers, shooting a quick text to Aoyama. “I think it’ll be really nice with the cherry blossoms in the background.”
“It better not rain. I’ll shoot myself into the sky and punch god in the face.”
"You'll be the prettiest heretic in all the land. Can I see your wedding dress?"
“No.”
“Mean.”
Izuku pouts but Kacchan just rolls her eyes at him. He was right. Bridezilla rears her terrifying head at least once a week as the wedding date draws closer, but at least she hasn’t really yelled at Izuku yet. The only disagreement they’ve had so far was when Kacchan told Izuku that her dad wanted to make his suit. Izuku had thought it would be too much trouble but all the Bakugous insisted, and he’d ended up getting fitted anyway. He doesn’t know what it’s going to look like. Doesn’t think he’d have much of an opinion, anyway, since Kacchan’s right about him having no sense of style. “Can I at least see the invitations?”
“Why are you only asking now? I’ve already sent them all.”
He pouts harder. Almost everything is in place for the big day, mostly thanks to Kacchan. Izuku’s a little anxious for it to be over. They’re both exhausted from planning a wedding on top of hero work. Some minor thing goes wrong every day, like an intern getting hurt or a last-minute RSVP. The apartment’s a mess and neither of them has seen a fresh vegetable in two weeks. Izuku really just wants to sleep.
“Kacchan,” he says. She’s next to him on the couch, looking through a mission report and trying not to fall asleep. “Maybe it’s time to go to bed.”
“I have stuff to do.”
“There’s always tomorrow.”
She sighs and puts her head on his shoulder. “God, why did I think planning a wedding would be easy.”
“You’ve done harder things,” Izuku says. Gently, he takes the report away and puts it on the coffee table. She grumbles and he does his best not to move, not wanting to jostle her and wake her from her drowse. It’s odd; she’d said once in UA that she could never sleep anywhere other than her bed. Nowadays she lies down on him to nap without a second thought.
The clock reads 11:37PM. “Kacchan,” Izuku says quietly. “After the wedding, are you…you don’t want to live here anymore, do you?”
She blinks up at him. “You wanna move?”
“I’m asking if you want to move,” Izuku says, carefully neutral. “It’s fine by me if you do. I can find a new place. Maybe a one-bedroom, the rent’s cheaper.”
“What’s this? I’m finally allowed to share a room with my husband?”
Izuku tries not to feel hurt by that. “I won’t stop you.”
She grins. “But what will my parents think?”
“I doubt they’ll mind.”
“Will you mind?”
“Why would I mind?”
“You’re so very conservative, after all.”
Izuku shrugs. “I feel like it’d be kind of weird for a married couple not to live together.”
“Then I guess that’s that,” Kacchan says, sounding satisfied. “Let’s not worry about the apartment until later, though. That can wait.”
“If you say so,” Izuku says.
She curls up tighter against him. One hand is on his bicep and the other rests just below his wrist, her fingers idly tapping him in rhythm with his pulse. He tries to imagine life without her. Without her colourful expletives and obsessive cleaning, without dinner on the stove and without her threatening to throw away his clean laundry if he leaves it in the living room one more time. It was already so quiet without her around some mornings. Once she gets married, he supposes, that’s just going to be his life.
He thinks of when they first met, when she’d tackled him at the playground and demanded that they play heroes. You’ll be my sidekick, she’d told him in all her three-year-old wisdom. You look just right. We’ll be the best team ever.
“I’ll miss you,” he says. Kacchan doesn’t respond. Her breathing is quiet and even, and her arms around him are lax.
Well. It doesn’t matter what Izuku wants. Gently, he untangles himself from her grip, and turns around so he can scoop her up off the couch. She weighs nothing. Izuku tries to remember the last time he’d had to look up at her, back when they were teens and he hadn’t yet hit his growth spurt. Maybe he’d still be smaller than her if All Might hadn’t found him.
She snuffles in her sleep. Chest a little heavy, Izuku carries her back to her room and tucks her into bed for the night.
He gets…peevish.
Kacchan likes spicy food. Kacchan lives on spicy food, so the six pack of Korean fire noodles in the cupboard is exclusively for her. Until Izuku messes up something with the catering, and she calls him an idiot, and he silently, while maintaining eye contact, cooks all six packets and eats them in one sitting purely out of spite.
She’s almost too impressed to yell at him (although his stomach suffers for it later anyway). But he keeps doing that. Stupid little passive-aggressive things like using her nice shampoo and sitting on her so she can’t see the TV. It’s annoying. He knows he’s being annoying, and the worst part is he doesn’t know why.
“Deku, stop leaving your laundry in the living room.”
“Make me.”
A (thankfully clean) pair of underwear hits him in the face. “Jesus, Deku, what is your problem lately?”
The sad thing is he doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s not like she’s done anything wrong. He just keeps thinking about an empty apartment and the idea makes him antsy. And he can’t even tell her about it, because making her feel bad about getting married would be an absolute dick move. “Nothing.”
“Don’t nothing me, you’re acting like a toddler.” She comes to stand in front of him, hands on her hips but eyebrows slanted slightly upwards. “Are you mad at me or something?”
“No! I,” he pauses, sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m being crabby for no reason. I guess I’m just stressed.”
“Because of the wedding?”
“Maybe.” She looks more hurt than offended now. Izuku runs his fingers through his hair, feeling terrible. “Look, you didn’t do anything wrong. I promise I won’t be mean to you, yeah?”
“You’d better,” she says, still looking doubtful. “I’m supposed to be the mean one in this relationship. It’s weird when you do it.”
He reigns it in, but Kacchan can probably tell he’s still sulking on the inside. He does what he has to, though, with the planning and the organising. Forces himself to be cheerful when he meets their friends and his mother. It kind of feels like everyone’s happy but him, and that predictably makes him feel even worse.
“Get it together,” he tells himself every morning in the mirror. “Kacchan’s wedding is not about you.”
So life goes on, work and planning plodding along until the week before the big day. The wedding will be in a pretty little park in Kyoto, secluded between trees but just within view of Kyoto tower. It’ll be cherry blossom season. They’ll be surrounded by flowers and sunlight. He wonders what she’ll look like.
He packs his things for the train, especially mindful of the suit Masaru had made him. It’s gorgeous, a deep olive paired with a rust-coloured tie and matching handkerchief for the pocket. Kacchan still won’t show him her dress. They’ve booked her a bridal suite in some fancy hotel nearby, and Izuku gets a smaller room until the wedding day. He won’t need to stay in Kyoto any longer than that, he supposes, so he can leave Kacchan to her honeymoon and go home by himself.
They sit next to each other on the train. They’re both exhausted, and Izuku’s looking forward for all this to be over. He hasn’t started looking for a new apartment yet. The thought makes him anxious, and anyway he’s got more important things to worry about. Like savouring his time with Kacchan while it lasts, because they won’t get to be together like this for a while. She’s leaning on his shoulder, the light from the windows casting funny shadows on her figure.
"This marriage thing won't be too hard, right?” she says. Izuku barely hears her over the noise of the engine. “I mean, a building fell on me once. Anything else just kinda pales in comparison."
He runs his fingers through her hair. "Are you nervous?"
"No. Maybe."
"Why?"
"It's a big decision. I know it was my idea, but," she keeps her face turned away so Izuku can’t see her. “I dunno. I don’t know how to be someone’s wife. It’s scary to think about.”
“You don’t have to get married if you don’t want to,” Izuku says, hating himself for hoping she’ll agree.
She huffs. “Don’t be stupid, of course I want to.”
“Okay.” Izuku gently winds a lock of hair around his finger. It's so smooth. “Then what are you worried about? I mean, you’re right, it is a big decision. But a marriage is,” he pauses, thinking of his mother and the man who left her. “A marriage is when you look at someone and think, ‘I trust them to have my back’. It’s a commitment, yeah, but it’s also a partnership. To me, at least, the idea’s really comforting. Because you’ve chosen to entrust yourself to someone, and you know they’ll keep you safe. Even if you make mistakes, even if you hurt each other, you work together and pick up the pieces.”
She looks up at him. “What if the mistakes are too big? I know what I'm like. I know our falling out was my fault, when we were kids, and I'm an insensitive asshole sometimes and," she trails off. "I'm a good hero, but I'm not a good person. I don't know why you stuck with me. I don't know why you’re still here."
"I'm here because I know you," he says slowly. "And I know that you're loud and abrasive and you can be cruel sometimes. I also know that you're responsible and protective and that you've learned to be kind. Every bad thing you think you are, I've already figured out."
"Then why?"
"Because despite everything you've always been my best friend. Everything I've ever wanted to be. I like who I am when I'm with you. You know me better than I do, and I trust you, and the thought of living without you...it scares me. You're home. And I love," Izuku trails off, clears his throat. She’s staring at him, eyes soft and lips parted and lovely. "I love what we have. You're the most important person in my life."
"Even more than All Might?" she murmurs.
"Even more than All Might."
It would be so easy to kiss her. Easy to lean forward when she sits up, easy to turn his head when she comes close to press her lips against his cheek. They're warm. It would be easy to claim them, but he doesn't, because she’s getting married to someone who isn't him.
"Thanks for," she says, breath hitching a little like she wants to cry. “Thanks. I…I’m tired.”
“I’ll wake you when we get there,” Izuku says, barely noticing when she presses herself against his side and gradually goes quiet. His cheek still tingles where she kissed him.
The lungs in his chest feel two sizes too big, like every measured breath isn't quite enough. That magazine comes to mind, the one with them both on the cover. It’s still in his room somewhere. They hadn't altered it at all, it occurs to him. That’s just the way he looks at her. That's just the way you look at someone you love.
The sky starts getting dark outside as Kyoto draws steadily closer. "I love her," Izuku says to himself, feeling alone on a crowded train.
The wedding venue is beautiful. There are twenty round tables under big white tents, all decorated with green and orange flowers and colourful lanterns for night time. More chairs are lined up in rows to the left, facing a flowery standalone archway where the ceremony will take place. Kyoto tower is just visible in the background. The bar’s already open. None of the guests have arrived but cherry blossoms float softly down from the trees as if to see what all the fuss is about.
None of this matters to Izuku, because he’s too busy pacing back and forth and breathing into a paper bag.
“What am I gonna do,” he says to himself. A waiter gives him the side-eye. Izuku can’t blame him, because he absolutely looks like a crazy person. “I can’t just let her get married to someone else. But I’m too late, it’s her wedding day, but I can’t just let her go.”
Kacchan’s off getting dressed with the bridesmaids and the groomsmen are helping with the last minute stuff. The mysterious groom is nowhere to be seen so Izuku’s left alone to wait for the guests. They arrive one by one and insist on shaking Izuku’s hand for some reason, and by the time his mother shows up poor Izuku is in tears.
His mother wrings her hands. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”
“My suit’s too nice and Kacchan’s not here but I love her and I don’t know how to tell her and I can’t remember if we remembered to invite All Might,” Izuku says in a rush.
Inko hugs him and lets him cry into her hair. “Sweetheart, All Might’s officiating.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and it’s very sweet that you love Katsuki but I’m fairly certain she knows.”
“She doesn’t!” Izuku wails. “I never told her!”
“You’re being silly,” his mother tells him, adjusting the flower in his lapel. “Now look, you’re messing up your nice hairdo. Why don’t you go have a nice sit down and calm yourself, hmm? I’ll look after the guests. Go on, dear.”
Izuku goes. He sits behind a car by himself and sniffles and pokes at the ground with a stick like a five-year-old. Nobody bothers him except an old man with sunglasses and a large hat, who wanders over to sit next to him even though the guests are all mingling and drinking cocktails. “What’s wrong, son?”
“Nothing,” Izuku says, and then hiccups. The man’s got some nasty burns on his face and an oxygen tank hooked up to his throat. Kacchan never mentioned an ill uncle but Izuku’s too polite to ask. Must be one of the groom’s guests. “Everything. Everything’s terrible and I’m terrible.”
The strange man pats his shoulder. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”
“It is,” Izuku says emphatically. “I— I messed up. I waited too long to notice what was in front of me and now I’ve lost it.”
The man hums. His voice is a soothing baritone even though his hands are gnarled over the top of his cane. “Few things in life are truly lost to us.”
“I think this is. I’m an idiot. I never realised how important someone was to me and now she’s with Shigara—with someone else.”
The stranger frowns. “With whom?”
“Nobody,” Izuku sighs. “But I can’t even say how I really feel. It’s too late for that. It would just make me the bad guy, you know?”
“Sometimes being the bad guy isn’t so bad,” says the stranger. “Perhaps I’m biased, but for most people, life is short. It’s worth going after what you want.”
“What do you mean ‘most people’?”
“When you’re older,” he continues, “you regret what you didn’t do more than you regret what you did. You regret letting go of someone more than you regret fighting to get them back. I learned that the hard way.”
Izuku wipes at his eyes. “What if they don’t want to come back?”
“Then you did what you could,” says the man kindly. “Or you force them, I suppose. That’s the other option.”
“That sounds a little illegal,” Izuku says. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I should say something. Maybe it’s worth risking.”
“That the spirit!” the stranger says and claps him on the back. He’s deceptively strong. “Whatever it is you’re dealing with, I do hope it works out for you, son. And congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks. Wait, for what?”
Nobody answers. The mysterious old man’s up and disappeared. Must have some sort of teleportation quirk or something.
But he was right. Izuku takes a deep breath and stands, last traces of sadness washed away by adrenaline. He’s going to tell her. He’s a hero. He’s Deku, and he’s never run away from a fight.
He doesn’t tell her.
Not right away, anyway, because he’d forgotten that a) she’s getting ready and b) Mitsuki’s guarding Kacchan’s dressing room with all the protective fury of a mother dragon. Instead Izuku’s banished back outside to wait with everyone else, pacing back and forth and scaring the guests until Hitoshi comes up to him with the guest list. He looks good. His hair is slicked back and it seems like someone had bullied him into using concealer under his eyes.
“Everyone’s here,” he says without preamble. “Plus a few extras. Might be press, but I have to say they’re not doing a good job of being discrete.”
Izuku looks to where he’s pointing. There’s a troupe of funnily-dressed people sitting in a corner keeping mostly to themselves. “Oh, I spoke to that elderly man earlier, the one with the cane. He seems nice. I doubt he’s press.”
“Guess I’ll leave it be, then.”
Iida’s herding people away from the cocktails and into their seats. A glance at Izuku’s watch reveals that the ceremony’s starting soon. “Did Kacchan ask you to usher?”
“Nope,” Hitoshi says, staring intently at Izuku’s face. Izuku blinks back. “Hmm. I’ll be right back. I’m going to go make a toast.”
“Okay?” Izuku says and lets him go. Hitoshi snags a champagne flute from the open bar and goes to stand near the archway.
He clears his throat and raises his glass. “To the bride and groom. It is absolutely imperative that you toast them for their well-being and happiness. Please be sure to say cheers, I’ll know if you don’t.”
His announcement gets a chorus of confused cheers in response. “That was a weird toast,” says Todoroki.
Izuku turns. “Hitoshi’s a weird guy. Do you know if I have a seat?”
“Of course not, you’re in the front with us,” Todoroki says and adjusts his tie. “You look good, by the way.”
“So do you,” Izuku says, letting himself be led to the flowered archway. Excited whispers follow them as Izuku walks down the aisle. He feels kind of self-conscious. Was I supposed to be a groomsman? My tie’s not green. Wow, everyone looks really good. Do I look okay? I want to see Kacchan. “All Might, you’re here!”
All Might smiles at him from under the arch and allows himself to be bear hugged. “Hello, young man. I got ordained just for the occasion!”
Izuku grins back automatically. All Might looks a little more gaunt than he remembers, but he still cuts a handsome figure in his jet black suit. “Kacchan didn’t tell me she asked you.”
“It was a surprise. She thought it would please you,” comes the bashful response.
Just like always, hearing that voice calms some of Izuku’s anxiety, and he manages to have a normal conversation until the rest of the crowd goes suspiciously quiet. Izuku follows All Might’s gaze to the end of the aisle, down the white carpet covered in cherry blossoms to a woman in a white dress.
She’s here. There’s no veil and no loud music, just the gentle melody of piano keys under Jirou’s expert fingers somewhere. Izuku barely hears it. Barely notices anything beside the gossamer swish of Kacchan’s skirt, her silhouette just like the princesses they both used to love when they were kids. She’s wearing flowers in her hair. Masaru leads her down the aisle step by graceful step, and when she looks at Izuku he realises he might have forgotten how to breathe.
“Oh,” he says almost reverently. The corner of her mouth turns up, painted pink and soft and pretty. “You look...hello.”
“Hello,” she says quietly back. All Might stifles a laugh, not that Izuku really notices. He has no idea what anyone’s saying, only that Kacchan’s in front of him and she’s beautiful and he’s never loved anyone more in his entire life.
“And if anyone has any objections,” says All Might faintly in the background, “let them speak. Does anyone have any reason that these two should not be wed?”
“I do,” says Izuku.
Kacchan swats gently at his arm. “Not yet, Deku.”
“No, I mean,” Izuku says, “I object.”
All Might freezes. “What?”
“I object,” says Izuku again, heart threatening to leap out of his throat. “Because I know I’m too late and I know you’re going to hate me for saying this on your wedding day, Kacchan, but I love you. I can’t stand here and let you marry someone else, not when this is my last chance to tell you how I feel.”
Nobody says anything. After a long, tense moment, All Might clears his throat. “Izuku,” he says, extremely slowly. “Who do you think she’s getting married to?”
Izuku looks around. There’s no other man in sight. The guests are staring at him, and Kacchan’s face is completely slack in disbelief.
A lot of things this year now make sense. “I’m the groom?”
Kacchan screams, and the bouquet explodes.
Izuku’s ears are ringing. Kacchan’s gone and the crowd’s in chaos. Masaru taps him on the shoulder with an expression of one greatly saddened. “Izuku, you know I love you dearly, right?”
“Yes?” Izuku manages.
“You’re like a son to me. But nobody makes my little girl cry,” Masaru says, and punches Izuku in the face.
The sky is nice today. The grass is soft under Izuku’s head, and All Might’s face appears somewhere in his field of vision. “You alright?”
“Masaru is stronger than he looks,” says Izuku. Blood trickles out of his nose.
All Might sighs and helps him up. “I think,” he says, “you should go after her.”
He searches for half an hour. Eventually Izuku find Kacchan sitting on an overturned log, sobbing into her hands. “Go away,” she says when he calls her name. “I hate you. I never want to see you again.”
She sounds wrecked, and Izuku wants to throw himself off a cliff. “Kacchan, I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I didn’t understand, all this time. You never said anything, you never told me!”
“I asked you to marry me!” she says, voice cracking. “I asked if you would make me miso soup every morning and you said yes!”
“Oh my god,” Izuku breathes. A traditional Japanese proposal. “I thought you literally—I didn’t even know we were dating.”
“Why the hell did I move in with you?”
“Because you needed a flatmate?”
“And that’s why you never kissed me? And you didn’t want to share a room?” she says, scrubbing angrily at her eyes. Her makeup’s ruined and her face is blotchy and red. “I can’t fucking believe you. All this time I thought you were my boyfriend, I wanted to marry you and you never even loved me back.”
“That’s not true,” Izuku says, sitting in front of her and taking her hands. She tries to pull away but he holds on. “I loved you. I still love you, I love you so much it hurts.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying,” Izuku says as firmly as he can. “I’m stupid and insensitive and unobservant but when have I ever lied to you?”
Her face contorts. Gently, Izuku reaches up and touches her cheek. “Kacchan, please look at me. I get it, all this time you’ve been trying to tell me you loved me and I never understood. I never once imagined that someone as beautiful and strong and smart as you could ever love me like that so I just never thought about it. We’ve always been together so I thought nothing changed,” he says, and then pauses. “I don’t think I ever really noticed when our friendship turned into love. Maybe it was always love, I don’t know.”
She says nothing. Sighing, Izuku rests his chin on her knee and squeezes her hands. “Kacchan. When I thought someone was going to take you away from me my heart broke. I’ve been acting like a crazy person because I was afraid of you leaving me. I was jealous. It’s supposed to be you and me. I’m your Deku and you’re my Kacchan. I meant everything I said. About you being my best friend, about trusting you to have my back. I’m dumb and I messed up but I have never not loved you. I just never noticed.”
The breeze ruffles her skirt. She picks at a loose thread, sniffling and still wiping stray tears. “Why are you bleeding?”
“Your dad punched me.”
“Good.”
“Yeah,” Izuku says. “I’m a little happy. I feel terrible for making you cry, but when I realised you loved me back, that you always have…I’m kind of elated. Kacchan, I want to marry you.”
She scowls and shoves him away. “You humiliated me.”
He sighs. “I did. I’m sorry.”
“You did that in front of everyone. Everyone saw,” she huffs. She stands up, and Izuku follows. “There’s no way in hell I’m marrying you after that.”
“About that,” Hitoshi says from somewhere behind them. “Don’t worry. They don’t remember.”
Izuku opens his mouth, and then closes it. “When did you get here?”
“A while ago. I just came to tell you I wiped everyone’s memory. They all think the ceremony hasn’t started yet and they’re waiting on you to arrive. Except All Might, he went to rescue the bouquet.”
“How? When did—” Izuku starts, and then remembers. Be sure to say cheers, I’ll know if you don’t. “Oh my god, the toast.”
“I thought something might go wrong,” Hitoshi shrugs. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up. I didn’t think you could be this clueless but I was clearly mistaken.”
“I could kiss you,” Izuku says seriously, and then spins around to grab Kacchan’s hands. “Kacchan, we can start over.” Without even thinking about it, he gets down on one knee and looks up, wears every emotion plain on his face for her to see. “Marry me, Katsuki. I love you.”
She takes a deep breath. “Even more than All Might?”
He smiles. “Even more than All Might.”
So they get married, Katsuki with a singed bouquet and Izuku with blood on his collar. Inko cries and Masaru cries and All Might smiles knowingly throughout the whole ceremony, and this time Izuku listens to every word that’s being said. The sun’s just going down by the time they say I do. Surrounded by the people he loves most in the world, Izuku leans down and gives his wife his very first kiss, of many.
Everyone claps and they cut the cake after. Someone, probably Kaminari, has stolen the cake toppers and replaced them with an All Might action figure and Godzilla. All Might has Izuku’s face taped on, and Bakugou is written on Godzilla’s back in sharpie. Kacchan rolls her eyes and Izuku laughs, and then he kisses her again because he’s allowed to do that now. They feed each other cake. It’s chocolate and coffee flavoured. Kacchan playfully swipes some cream onto Izuku’s nose.
Dinner is delicious, although Izuku makes a mess with his chopsticks because Kacchan won’t let go of his dominant hand. It doesn’t matter. She ends up feeding him anyway, even though half their old classmates make retching noises at them. Kacchan flips them off. Izuku would too except his mother’s right next to him and he doesn’t want to offend her.
The lanterns sway in the night breeze as waiters clear away the last sakura jelly desserts. Kacchan steals a sip of Izuku’s champagne. “Hey. What made you decide to tell me?”
He plays with her fingers. She’d picked the wedding rings, and hers sits prettily on her fourth finger. Diamond and white gold. “I was hiding and feeling sorry for myself, when an elderly gentleman stopped for a chat. Told me I’d regret what I didn’t say more than I’d regret what I did say. Actually, he must have been one of your relatives. He wasn’t mine. He was blind and had an oxygen tank?”
Kacchan frowns. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Where is he?”
Izuku points him out. He and his odd friends are sitting at a table near the back. Kacchan nudges her mother. “Ma, do we know that guy?”
Mitsuki wipes some stray lip gloss off Kacchan’s face with her thumb. “No, I don’t think so. Inko?”
“Hmm?”
Izuku points the stranger out. Inko’s expression becomes rather unimpressed. “Oh. What did he say to you?”
“He just sat down and said what’s wrong son.”
“Son, huh,” Inko says flatly. Somehow, the blind stranger catches her eye and shrinks into his seat.
Izuku tilts his head. “Do you know him?”
“No,” Inko says unconvincingly. “Do excuse me for a minute.”
They watch her go. Yaomomo approaches the main table with Todoroki in tow. “Jirou wrote you a song,” she says, pointing at the stage where Jirou’s trying to hide behind her guitar. “She’s asking if you want to hear it.”
“Absolutely,” Izuku says and takes his wife by the hand. “Ready for our first dance?”
Afterwards, when the party’s over and the guests have gone and Izuku’s promised Hitoshi his eternal servitude, they walk back to the hotel, looking at cherry blossoms on the way. Kacchan’s poofy princess dress is a little crushed, but she doesn’t seem to care. She leads him back to the bridal suite. It’s simple but very pretty. Someone, Izuku notes nervously, had left flower petals on the bed.
Kacchan groans and slips off her heels. “I need to get this shit off my face. Wait here so I can shower.”
“Okay,” Izuku says, and manages to sit still for exactly three minutes before he has to bury his face in a pillow.
They’re married. They’re married and they’re sharing a room, and a bed. Izuku knows what’s supposed to happen on your wedding night, but he’s twenty-four and only just had his first kiss (or several), and Kacchan’s in the bathroom taking a shower and she’s going to come out and see him acting like a teenager. “Get it together,” he hisses to himself and goes to fix his hair in the mirror. He smells okay. He looks okay. “Kacchan wouldn’t marry me if she didn’t find me at least a little attractive, right?”
“You’re handsome,” says Kacchan. “I’m getting my clothes, don’t look.”
He keeps his eyes dutifully shut. Fabric rustles, and then she sighs. “Okay. Turn around.”
Izuku turns. And then his brain decides to shut down.
Kacchan’s ears are a fetching red. “Don’t laugh.”
Izuku isn’t laughing. Izuku can’t make a sound, because the only words he knows right now are lace and white and garters. He doesn’t really know where to look.
She solves that problem for him by coming slowly closer, expression hesitant and a little demure. “Do you like it?”
Wordlessly, Izuku nods. “You’re allowed to look,” she tells him softly, as though she’s not sure if she wants to be looked at herself. “We’re married now. And I bought this special for you.”
“I—you’re painfully attractive,” Izuku manages to say without his voice cracking. He’s seen her naked, technically, but not like this, not when he knows she’s here for him. “I, uhm, I see my suitcase is here but I don’t think I packed enough clothes.”
“You won’t be needing clothes for a few days,” Kacchan says, which is just unfair. “Izuku. Take me to bed.”
And, well. He can’t really say no to that, not when she’s stepping right into his arms and tilting her face up to be kissed. She smells like soap and her skin’s still warm from the shower. Heart thudding in his ears, Izuku shuts his eyes and thinks, I’m the luckiest man alive.
She kisses him softly, still eager but a little unsure. Izuku takes his time, wraps his arms around her waist and focuses on the insistent press of her lips, opening his mouth for an inquisitive tongue that tastes like toothpaste and lip balm. She trails kisses from his mouth to his cheek to his jaw, hooks her fingers in the knot of his tie and pulls it loose so she can get at his neck. “You’re red all the way to here,” she says and taps his collarbone. Izuku doesn’t need to tell her that’s entirely her fault.
It’s less overwhelming when she’s not looking right at him. After kissing him breathless she pulls away, taking him by the hand to lead him to the king-sized bed. He admires her from behind. And from the front, when she pushes him onto the mattress and climbs into his lap.
Hesitantly, he rests his hands on her thighs. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says into her neck. “God, I want to kiss you.”
“So kiss me,” she says, tilting his chin up. “All you want. It’s just you and me.”
He trails his lips down her neck, nibbles at her collarbone and presses his tongue into the hollow of her throat. She tilts her head back and sighs, and he takes that as invitation to pepper kisses down her chest until he’s met with fabric. He sits there, red-faced, until she presses his hand against her breast. “Undress me, Izuku.”
Hearing his name in her voice makes him shiver. With shaking fingers he undoes the first clasp on her corset, then the second, and the third, until she’s in nothing but her panties and white stockings. She’s breathtaking. He feels like he’s on fire, and without prompting he presses kisses to her sternum, between her breasts, and then, heart hammering, runs his tongue across one pert pink nipple.
She gasps. He does it again, and uses his fingers on the other until she’s melting in his arms and tangling her fingers in his hair. He could sit here forever, pleasing her, but she leans into him until he gets the message and falls onto his back. He’s still fully dressed, he realises. Her fingers make quick work of his jacket and shirt buttons so they can join her corset on the floor.
They take turns just exploring, running hands and lips along each other’s bodies, mouthing at a sensitive spot or sucking hickies onto smooth skin. It’s intoxicating. Time goes on without them, leaves them with nothing but limbs and silk sheets and quiet mewls of pleasure. Izuku grows bold. He slips a hand into her underwear to feel her wetness on his fingers, revels at the look she gives in when he slowly rubs her clit. “Wanna taste you,” he murmurs in her ear. Blushing pink, she spreads her legs and tugs her panties off to show him what he wants to see.
She’s so warm. Curiously he kisses her, allows her to squeeze his head with her thighs. He has no idea what he’s doing but she doesn’t seem to mind. She likes when he licks her, and really likes when he sucks on her clit. His mouth waters. She’s soft and a little salty, and she lets him study her with his lips and marauding tongue until she’s curling her toes and gasping for breath and pushing him away with stockinged feet.
“Good?” he says and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Yeah,” she breathes, making grabby hands for him to hug her. “There’s condoms in the bedside drawer.”
The thought makes him impossibly warmer. “You sure?”
“I’m sure,” she says, giving him a look. It speaks of desire and love and comfort. “Make me yours.”
“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he says shakily. He tears himself away for just long enough to rummage in the drawer, almost crushing the condom when she decides to paw at the front of his pants. “God, you’re gonna kill me today.”
The only answer he gets is a grin. His zipper’s disproportionately loud. Slowly, she pulls his pants down his hips, along with the tight black boxers he has on underneath.
And then he’s naked. She stares at him, and he blushes. “Oh.”
“Uhm,” he says, fiddling with the condom wrapper. “I…hello.”
“We’re gonna need lube,” she says flatly. “Get the bottle and come here.”
He obeys. It takes two tries to get the condom on because he’s so nervous, but she climbs back into his lap and kisses the jitters away. When they break apart he’s panting and aroused. Commanding, she pushes him onto his back and straddles him. He feels like he’s looking up at a deity.
She lubes him up and herself for good measure. Slowly, very slowly, she sinks onto his cock, teeth catching on her lower lip, muscled thighs trembling as she takes him inch by thick inch. Izuku tries not to come then and there. She sighs when she reaches the base, eyebrows upturned and hips squirming like she’s struggling to get used to him. The image burns itself into his brain forever, and Izuku’s certain he could die right now a happy man.
“You okay?” he manages, squeezing her leg. She nods, breathing heavy, and experimentally rocks her hips.
Izuku groans. The sensation is gorgeous, emotion and arousal intensifying every careful thrust she gives him. He lifts his hips to meet her, subtly at first but then with confidence. Her breasts bounce with every movement. He can’t decide where to look.
“Keep doing that,” she tells him breathlessly. “I—my clit, I can feel you rubbing against it like this. Izuku, Izuku, make me come.”
“Katsuki,” he says helplessly, watching her eyes flutter shut and back arch beautifully. She cries out wordlessly as she comes again, voice high and sweet and wrecked.
It’s too much. Izuku lets himself ride out the waves of pleasure, lets himself finish once she’s done, pulse racing and skin tingling and every muscle singing Katsuki’s praises. She goes boneless on top of him and he holds onto her for dear life, doesn’t try to move until he softens and slips out of her and he has to go throw the condom away.
She’s pleasantly rumpled when he comes back to bed. He did that. He made her feel like that. “Izuku.”
“Yes?” he says, heart skipping when she smiles.
“Nothing. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says. Feels like he should open the window and shout it out to the whole world.
But he doesn’t. Instead he slips under the covers and gathers his wife into his arms, presses a kiss against sweat-damp hair that gets lost in a tumble of blonde. “I’m a little dense. You’ll have to keep reminding me you love me from time to time.”
“If I must,” she says, tucking her head under his chin and tangling their legs together. Her stockings are cool and smooth. “And to think we almost didn’t get this. I missed out on my boyfriend experience because of you.”
“Don’t you worry,” Izuku says and reaches behind him to turn off the light. The room is enveloped in comforting darkness, quiet but for his heartbeat against Katsuki’s ear. “We’ve got all our lives to make up for it.”
They fall asleep cuddling. The world keeps turning without them and the moon makes her way steadily across the sky. Outside, the breeze whispers itself to sleep, and cherry blossoms leave their branches one by one to float silently onto the grass.