Work Text:
“I just - I just don’t know, Ochako,” Izuku says morosely, cupping a too-large cup of coffee with two tablespoons of sugar and a mountain of whipped cream. “I love Shouto, I really do, but - it’s just - his dad, Ochako, his dad. He’s so - so - ”
“Assholish?” she suggests, gulping down a large mouthful of her (disgusting) black coffee. “Dickish? Rude? Prejudiced? Bigoted? Homophobic? Izuku,” she says, setting her coffee down and leaning across the table to squish his cheeks together, “I love you with all of my heart, but goddamn, your future father in law is - ”
Izuku sputters loudly in denial, lips pressed together like a pufferfish as Ochako squeezes his cheeks harder.
“It’s going to happen, don’t interrupt,” Ochako says, cutting across his unvoiced protests. “He’s such a dick, Izuku. Such a dick. He’s full of small dick energy. He’s overflowing with tiny, baby dick energy, Izuku, it’s not even funny. The fact that Shouto - nice, kind, incredibly awkward Shouto - came from him is both amazing and somehow impossible.”
“Ochako!” Izuku scolds, pulling himself free from her hands.
“It’s true,” she says seriously, returning to chug her coffee. “Look, Izuku - we’re in a tiny, off-brand coffee shop at two in the morning with maybe three hours of sleep between the two of us. There is nothing but the truth here.”
Izuku squints at her. “I - I really don’t think that’s how sleep deprivation works,” he says doubtfully.
“It is now,” she says firmly, before slamming her now empty cup down and aggressively starting on her fourth.
Izuku stares back down at his oversized, super sweet coffee mug, tugging at the flopping sleeves of his hoodie.
“I just - I just don’t know, Ochako,” he says miserably. “I mean, his mom likes me - I think - and his siblings are nice too, even if I haven’t seen much of Touya, what with him getting married to Keigo.”
“And what’s up with that, by the way?” Ochako asks, briefly surfacing from where she was trying to drown herself in her coffee. “Like, his dad’s fine with the eldest Todoroki getting hitched to a guy, but somehow, you and Shouto dating is the worst thing to ever happen?”
“Well, Keigo’s the owner of a multimillion company,” Izuku points out, sipping at his coffee and getting whipped cream on his nose. “And he’s really famous - even if Shouto’s dad didn’t want them to get married, I don’t think there’s a lot he could do. He’s just trying to be on the right side of the public.”
“Well, that’s stupid,” Ochako dismisses, rolling her eyes. “Izuku, you’re literally a chemistry professor at motherfucking MIT. You’re super smart.”
“Aw,” Izuku says, flushing. “Thanks! You’re really smart too, y’know. Space engineers need to know a lot.”
She grins at him. “Thanks! Gravity’s for losers, anyways.”
He snorts out a laugh.
“But - seriously, Ochako - I don’t know what to do,” he says, drooping. “Like, should I just skip Touya and Keigo’s wedding? Avoid him glaring lasers into the back of my head?”
“Izuku,” Ochako says, leaning forwards and taking his hands. “You are a badass chemistry professor. You teach broke college children how to blow shit up with a smile on your face.”
“I don’t think college professors are badass,” Izuku mutters.
“You’re absolutely badass,” she says, clutching his hands tighter. “I mean, you kind of look like a loser in your weird, ugly sweater vests and polo shirts - ”
“I like my sweater vests!”
“They’re still ugly.”
Izuku pouts.
“Don’t distract me,” Ochako chides. “Anyways - you're a cool college professor blowing things up and whatnot, making a tiny army of admiring, dedicated broke college children - you have to show Shouto’s dad that side of you!”
“What side of me?”
Ochako rolls her eyes, releasing Izuku’s hands in order to return to her attempts to drown herself in coffee.
After a long drink, she surfaces and says, “The badass college professor side, dammit! Izuku, you literally blow things up and teach other people how to blow things up! You’re awesome and amazing, and Shouto’s dad can go suck it!”
Izuku laughs a bit. He takes a long sip of his sugary coffee, and the sudden rush sugar coupled with the worrying lack of sleep makes him straighten up with sudden confidence.
“You know what, Ochako?” he asks, staring across the rickety table with a sharp glint in his eyes. “You’re right. I am a badass.”
“Yes!” she cheers.
“And Shouto’s dad is trying to do this - this - game of chicken with me! Like, he’s trying to come at me and he thinks I’m going to swerve like a chicken, and leave Shouto!”
“But you can’t swerve,” Ochako says seriously.
“I’m not going to. Not for that - that - that jerk!”
“No, you won’t. Izuku - Izuku, chickens are bitches.”
“And I’m not a chicken,” Izuku says, sounding like all the secrets in the world have been revealed to him in that single sentence.
“You’re not a chicken.” Ochako takes another long sip of her coffee and slams it down. “Izuku, you’re going to roll up to that wedding in a nice suit, you’re going to look amazing, you’re going to make Shouto’s asshole dad eat his fucking words, and all the while, you’re gonna be like, ‘Bawk bawk, bitch!’”
Izuku laughs. “Bawk bawk, bitch!” he repeats.
Ochako cups her hands around her mouth, tilts backwards in her seat, and calls out, “Chickens are bitches!”
The barista with pretty hair coughs loudly.
Ochako yelps, falling backwards with a loud crash.
“Sorry,” she whispers to the amused but also baffled face of the barista.
“Why are you whispering?” Izuku whispers to her, drinking more coffee and getting more whipped cream on his nose.
“Dunno,” she whispers back.
The barista coughs out something that suspiciously sounds like a laugh, slipping around the bar and coming over to their table.
“You guys aren’t like, drinking or anything, right?” she asks, somewhat worried.
“We’re drinking coffee,” Izuku tells her, lifting his cup. He pauses, then adds, “I’m not a chicken.”
“You’re not!” Ochako says seriously, scrambling to her feet and squishing his cheeks together again. “Izuku, you’re going to go to that wedding, okay? And you’re gonna be all like, ‘Bawk bawk, bitch!’ okay? Say it after me. ‘Bawk bawk, bitch!’”
“‘Bawk bawk, bitch!’” Izuku repeats obediently.
The barista coughs out another laugh. “I don’t think you guys have slept nearly enough, kero.”
“You’re really pretty,” Ochako tells her. “I’m Ochako.”
The barista laughs, and says, “Thanks, I guess.” She stops for a minute, tilting her head, before saying, “Here, I’ll put my number in your phone if you’d like.”
Ochako beams at her while Izuku quietly cheers for her off to the side. “Thanks!”
The barista takes Ochako’s phone, typing out her contact. “I’m Tsuyu Asui, by the way. You can call me Tsu, kero.”
Ochako nods her head like a madman. Tsuyu laughs, before asking Ochako, “Who’s your best friend?”
“This loser,” Ochako tells her cheerfully, pointing at Izuku.
“Ah,” Tsuyu says. “Next best friend?”
“Tenya!” Ochako says happily. “He’s such a stiff, but we love him.”
“Tenya’s great,” Izuku agrees, chugging more coffee and covering his nose almost entirely in whipped cream.
Tsuyu bobs her head and scrolls through Ochako’s phone, hits a contact, and presses the call button.
“Who’re you calling?” Ochako asks, leaning forwards.
“Tenya,” Tsuyu replies, mouth twitching.
Ochako blinks at her. “But why?”
“I think you guys should probably go home,” Tsuyu says, laughing lightly. “But I don’t think that you’d be able to - oh - hello,” she says into the phone. “No, this isn’t Ochako - please don’t hang up. She and - sorry, what’s your name?” she asks Izuku.
“I’m Izuku!”
Tsuyu nods. “Ochako and Izuku are at my cafe. And they really need someone to pick them up, kero.”
She pauses, listening to Tenya. “No, they’re not drunk. I mean, they’re acting like they are, but I think they just haven’t slept and are on too much caffeine.”
Another pause.
“Froppy’s Cafe. Mmhm. Thank you, I’ll see you soon.”
She hangs up and hands Ochako her phone back. Ochako squints at her, saying mournfully, “You are very pretty though.”
Tsuyu laughs, grinning slightly.
Tenya storms into the cafe twenty minutes later, bundled up in a scarf and a cardigan, chopping his arms wildly as he scolded them on sleeping more and drinking less coffee and - Izuku, why do you have so much whipped cream on your nose?
He thanks Tsuyu and yanks Ochako and Izuku into his car, Izuku excitedly telling him, I’m not a chicken, Tenya! Bawk bawk, bitch! as Ochako dopily waved at Tsuyu.
Tsuyu waves back.
Izuku wakes up in Tenya’s giant mansion hours later, blinking at the ceiling before groaning loudly, turning over in the bed and burying his head into the pillows.
“Why,” he whines, muffled. “Why do I do this?”
Ochako groans from the bed next to him. “We need to sleep more,” she tells him, clumsily grabbing for her phone. “Please tell me that the barista actually gave me her number.”
“How can you be thinking about that?” Izuku complains. “We made fools of ourselves in a public cafe at three in the morning.”
“Both of us had barely slept at all in the past day or two, so I’m giving us a pass,” Ochako replies groggily, scrolling through her contacts. “Oh - yes! She actually gave me something that looks like a legitimate number!”
“Did she text you?” Izuku asks, deciding to ignore the humiliation of last night.
“Well, she texted herself, and then texted me.”
“Good enough.”
Ochako hums in agreement before tossing her phone down on the bed. She kicks and drags herself free of the tangled grasp of the sheets as she crosses the room and throws herself down on Izuku’s bed.
He lets out a small shriek as her elbow digs into his side and Ochako laughs.
“But Izuku - I was serious.”
“What?” Izuku asks, twisting and peering at her.
“Shouto’s dad has small dick energy. You’re a badass professor who wears ugly, dorky sweater vests and on occasion, oversized hoodies.” Ochako leans in, pressing her forehead against Izuku’s as he shrinks back, slightly terrified. “But Izuku - most of all - bawk bawk, bitch.”
“Eep,” he squeaks.
She leans back, and mushs Izuku’s cheeks together. “Izuku, I’m serious. You gotta go to that wedding, all like, ‘Bawk bawk, bitch.’ It’s important.”
“Please don’t say ‘bawk bawk, bitch’ to Shouto’s father,” Tenya says, longsuffering, as he pushes into the guest room with a breakfast tray.
Ochako drools over the large plates of bacon and eggs, and digs in. Izuku and Tenya follow at a slower, more sedate pace.
“But he’s such a dick, Tenya,” she says around a mouthful of toast. “Such a dick.”
“Language,” Tenya chides. “And although Shouto’s father may be… of less than stellar character, he’s also rich and famous, and can make your life considerably difficult.”
“He’s also terrifying,” Izuku pipes up.
“Izuku!” Ochako gasps, whirling on him. “Where’s your confidence from last night?”
“Last night, I was running on like, an hour or two of sleep,” Izuku says dryly. “That coupled with a ton of sugar and coffee led to fake bravery. None of it was real.”
Ochako gapes. “No, Izuku!” she says, wide-eyed, lunging across the tray in her lap and almost overturning it. “You have to be confident! Believe! You can’t be a chicken, Izuku - you’re not a chicken, remember?”
Izuku chews on a piece of bacon. Tenya’s head swivels between the two of them as if he was watching a particularly interesting tennis match.
“Izuku!” Ochako scolds. “You’re not a chicken. You’re a cool badass professor, and you’re not going to give Shouto up!”
Tenya coughs into his fist. “Actually,” he starts, “speaking of Shouto - his brother’s wedding is in a few hours. You might want to hurry.”
Ochako gains a sharp glint in her eye. Leaning even farther forwards, she grabs Izuku's hands and squeezes tightly.
“Izuku,” she says solemnly. “Izuku, you are not a chicken. You can’t swerve, do you understand? Bawk bawk, bitch!”
Izuku gapes. “In - in a couple of hours?” he asks faintly.
Tenya nods his head, adjusting his glasses. “You need to decide now,” he adds, perfectly mild. “After all, showering and getting ready may take a while, and the drive is a bit long.”
“You can’t swerve,” Ochako insists.
Izuku trembles, sighs, and nods. “I won’t swerve,” he says defeatedly.
“You’re not a chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken.”
“Bawk bawk, bitch!”
“Bawk bawk, bitch,” Izuku repeats, and this time, he sounds a little more sure.
Tenya’s still watching them, obviously confused, but when Ochako and Izuku turn to face him, he shrugs, and says, “Izuku, go take a shower. Use the lotions in the cabinet when you’re done - do you remember where? Okay, good. Go shower then. Ochako, you’re with me.”
Ochako blinks at him as Izuku slips out of bed and heads over to the guest shower.
“What am I going to do?” she asks, confused.
“Help me pick a suit,” he replies, adjusting his glasses one last time. “After all, Izuku needs to look his best.”
Ochako grins, slow and wide and full of teeth.
“Let’s go!” she cheers.
Izuku comes out of the shower, hair still wet, to find Tenya and Ochako surrounded by various assistants - one of which was wearing a bright pink feather boa, and honestly, Izuku didn’t even want to know.
“Izuku!” Ochako greets, bouncing up and down. “You’re here!”
“Izuku,” Tenya greets, eyeing his hair with a slight frown. “We’ll have a stylist come over once we pick a suit,” he mutters to himself thoughtfully.
“What - ” Izuku starts to ask, but not before a man with blond hair and violet eyes skids to a stop in front of him and grabs the loose collar of Izuku’s shirt, yanking him closer.
“Mon ami,” he says in a serious manner, and Izuku’s just slightly terrified to note that yes, this was the man wearing the bright pink feather boa, and for some godawful reason, it actually looked good. “Mon ami,” he repeats, shaking Izuku back and forth, “I am Aoyama, and tonight, you will look fantastique - splendide - spectaculaire - ”
“I think he gets it, Aoyama,” a woman with black hair drawn up in a ponytail sighs. “Hello,” she offers to Izuku’s baffled expression. “I’m Yaoyorozu. Aoyama and I will be helping you dress up for Touya and Keigo’s wedding.”
“It’s - nice to meet you?” he squeaks, leaning away as Aoyama’s face presses closer and closer.
She laughs kindly. “You too,” she says warmly. “And - I’m glad that you’re standing up to Shouto’s dad. Trust me, he’s had it coming for years.”
“Thank you?” Izuku asks, and at this point, he’s nearing a sixty degree angle due to him leaning away from Aoyama.
“Well!” Aoyama says briskly, suddenly dropping Izuku and sending him crumpling to the floor. “Let’s begin!”
The assistants whirl into action, and honestly, Izuku’s still so confused.
They go through seventeen suits - that frankly, all look the same, but whatever, Izuku supposes - before they finally pick one. Izuku yanks it on before he’s unceremoniously thrown into a chair as several stylists and make-up artists converge on him.
He’s only slightly afraid for his life.
Just a bit.
Ochako cackling somewhere in the distance certainly isn’t helping matters though - Izuku can tell you that much.
There’s an ungodly amount of powder, pencils, and brushes that flit over his face, and at some point, there’s apparently the suggestion for touches of coral red eyeshadow or eyeliner to bring out Izuku’s bright, glamorous, green eyes - mon ami, they look just like emeralds - imagine the possibilities, mon ami - imagine!
And so Izuku wore makeup for the first time - eyeshadow included.
It actually looked good though, and for that, Izuku counted his lucky stars.
Izuku stared at himself in the mirror, eyeing the face that nearly didn’t look like his as more stylists yanked combs through his hair and poured copious amounts of hairspray on his head.
“You look great,” Ochako tells him cheerfully, leaning in from the side.
“Thanks,” Izuku says, huffing out a laugh before stiffening back up as one of the hair stylists whacks him over the head, telling him to stay still.
“Shouto’s jaw is going to drop,” she continues.
“That’s the goal,” Yaoyorozu murmurs in agreement, eyeing Izuku’s hair. “Keep the curls,” she calls out at a louder volume, and all of the hair stylists respond with an affirmative in perfect synchronization.
Izuku was only a little terrified.
When it’s all done and over with, Izuku barely recognizes himself, but everyone’s telling him that he looks great, so - he’ll take it.
He’s in the horrifically expensive gold-coated car - and honestly, just what the hell? - with Yaoyorozu and Tenya, Ochako as the driver in a gaudy gold suit, being assaulted by words on both sides.
“And it’s important to pick an appropriate seat - ”
“Avoid these people - ”
“If someone says that you look nice, make sure to - ”
Izuku’s dazed, words going in one ear and out the other before he cuts in and says, “Uh - okay, yep, thanks, very helpful, but - uh, we’re almost there, so how about we just - kinda relax?”
Tenya adjusts his glasses and says, “Our approaching destination is only further reason to inform you of the various social pitfalls that you may stumble into during this wedding! Izuku, do you remember what to say when someone compliments your clothes?”
“Thank you?”
“No! You must thank them, compliment them in turn - just a touch derisive, remember - and don’t forget to mention the suit’s brand and cost!”
Yaoyorozu laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m sure he’ll be alright,” she says. Turning to Izuku, she adds, “Just don’t forget to take a seat as soon as you can. Somewhere near the back, preferably. Don’t take out your phone or anything - just sit and sort of stare at the floor. We’ll be coming in a bit after you, and once we’re in, we’ll sit by you and that’ll be that.”
“Right.” Izuku takes a deep breath. “Just walk in, sit down, and it’ll all be fine.”
It was not fine.
Ignoring the fact that he muttered, “Bawk bawk, bitch,” to himself after a particularly strained conversation with Shouto’s dad, one attendee had been a little too close, and had given him a very interesting look. But then, to make matters worse, Izuku had not sat in the back.
Not even close.
Because - because there are scientists and people that Izuku’s looked up to since he was a kid, okay? And if Shouta Aizawa, nicknamed Eraserhead, was attending this wedding as Touya’s old college professor, you better damn well believe that Izuku was going to at least try to talk to him.
He could feel the skeptical and condescending glances at his back as he made his way to where Aizawa was sitting, determined to get at least one good conversation in.
His steps stutter halfway through, but Izuku wrenches himself out of his downward spiral and keeps moving.
I attended this stupid wedding, he told himself firmly. I dealt with Shouto’s dad, dammit, I can talk to one of my idols. Even if he’s notorious for being rude and hating stupid people and wow, there’s a lot of people watching me about to fail - no! Focus!
Izuku stops, takes a deep breath, and whispers to himself, “Bawk bawk, bitch.”
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
He tentatively sits down next to Aizawa, swallows, and says, “Mr. Aizawa? I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m a chemistry professor, and I loved your article on the fallacies of our current education system. I tried to employ some of your suggestions in my classroom, and I think they worked out great!”
Worked out great? Izuku screams at himself. Worked out great? What kind of phrasing is that, good god, why are you like this, Izuku -
“Most people hated that article,” Aizawa drawls, slouching down lower in his seat.
As tempted as Izuku is to say lions don’t concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he settles on a more neutral, “Well - uh, I think they’re wrong.”
“You think they’re wrong?” Aizawa asks dryly, glancing over at Izuku with a raised eyebrow.
“I mean - yeah, I guess? Our education system is flawed. Debt hounds graduated students for years. And we have to think about the way our children are being taught to think - it’s very - uh - strict? Uniform? Which, y’know, is a huge issue, especially in today’s society, where companies are looking for workers that can think outside of the box. But then with the practices of most elementary schools, not a lot of people have been able to develop that outside of the box thinking. And the high school workload can be - just - absolutely insane, especially with the kind of developed backgrounds that most colleges are looking for in applicants - ”
“I wrote the article, you don’t need to remind me of my own arguments,” Aizawa says, endlessly amused, as he pushes himself upright, sitting up straighter in his seat. “What was your name again?”
Izuku beams. “I’m Izuku Midoriya, sir!”
Aizawa cracks a small grin. “Nice to meet you. So, what brings you here?”
It takes everything in Izuku’s power to not bounce up and down. “Well, uh - do you know Shouto?”
Touya leans against the pillar, staring at Shouto with an arched brow. “You know, I’m the one getting married,” he drawls. “Why are you looking so nervous?”
“I’m not,” Shouto mutters, peering out through the columns of the church.
“Sure you aren’t,” Touya says dryly. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”
“Nothing,” Shouto says.
“Right,” Touya sighs, slumping against a column. “I’ll start guessing. Do you not like your suit?”
“What - no!”
“Okay. Worried for Yumi?”
“Why would I be worried about Fuyumi?” Shouto asks, turning away from where he was obsessively staring out into the sea of guests.
Touya raises a brow. “Didn’t you see?” he asked, gesturing out towards the audience. “She came in with Mom and Grandmother. Something’s wrong.”
Shouto frowns, peeking back out at the audience, spotting his sister’s distinctive head of hair alongside his mother’s pure white and grandmother’s silver.
“Oh,” he says, chewing on his lip. “Yeah, she looks upset.”
“Yeah,” Touya mutters, peeking out over him. “God, if her deadbeat boyfriend did something, I’m going to have to kill him.”
“Well, he’s not here,” Shouto points out unhappily. “So yeah, we might need to stage a murder.”
“That’ll be fun,” Touya says dryly, stepping back. “Shoot, where was I? Oh, right. Okay, uh - are you upset with the sperm donor or something?”
Shouto shifts from foot to foot instead of cracking a small grin like he usually would. “No,” he lies.
“Ah, gotcha,” Touya says, leaning back. “So, it’s something to do with him then.”
“Stop it, Touya,” Shouto says, irritated. “Seriously.”
Touya hums. “Nah,” he says. “Oh! Something going on with your boyfriend?”
Shouto twitches and kicks out at Touya.
“Woah there,” he says, effortlessly stepping back and dodging. “Don’t ruin the suit. But hey, guess that answers my question.”
“Shut up,” Shouto says grumpily.
“Wow, you’re really upset,” Touya remarks, raising his eyebrows. “What’s going on?”
Shouto groans, slumping against a column. “I was stupid,” he mutters. “Took him out on a date to this coffee shop.”
“Wow, yeah, no, that’s really stupid,” Touya says dryly. “Taking your boyfriend out on a date. Oh no. The horror.”
Shouto glares at him. “Please shut up. That wasn’t the stupid part,” he adds. “The stupid part is that I didn’t cover my hair up, and some asshole took a photo of us and posted it. So then Dad found out and made this huge fuss about it, and suddenly, I had to take him with me to your wedding.”
Touya frowns. “What’s the issue with that?”
“Dad wanted to meet him, and then when he did, he was a dick about it. And now Izuku knows about our colossally assholish dad and had to deal with his bullshit the entire party and then some, and he’s - well - ugh,” Shouto groans, burying his head in his hands. “He’s upset with me and he left me in our hotel room and told me that he was going to stay with Ochako for the next couple of nights.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Touya says. “Did you not warn him about the flaming dumpster that lives in Mom’s house?”
“No,” Shouto says miserably. “I should’ve, though.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Touya says, eyebrows raised. “What the hell were you planning to do if you guys wanted to get married? I mean, hell, how long has this relationship been?”
“Long,” Shouto says. “Like, a couple of years long. As for marriage - well, I was going to ask him to elope. And never meet my dad. Ever.”
Touya stares at him. “You’re such a disaster,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Who’s a disaster?” Natsuo asks cheerfully, slinging his arms around Touya’s gangly shoulders. “And congrats on getting hitched, Touya-bro!”
“Thanks,” Touya says dryly. “Shouto’s the disaster.”
“Makes sense.” Natsuo shrugs, grinning at Shouto’s grumble. “Is this about Midoriya?”
“Yeah,” Touya says. “Shouto didn’t tell him about our ex-landlord.”
Natsuo briefly snickers at Touya’s joke before frowning at Shouto. “Really?” he asks. “Not cool, Shouto-bro.”
“Don’t remind me,” Shouto says, wincing. “I mean, I don’t think he’s going to break up with me? Hopefully?”
“He probably won’t,” Natsuo assures him. “I mean, I think he was kind of upset about you lying about your entire identity to him - ”
Shouto groans.
“ - but he looks pretty happy right now, so I think a brief talk will sort things out.”
“Wait, what?” Shouto asks. “You saw him?”
Natsuo raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t?” he returns. “He’s literally sitting in the front row, next to Aizawa. I don’t know how you’d miss him.”
“Wait, what?” Shouto whirls around and peers back out into the sea of guests.
“Aizawa?” Touya asks. “Really? Huh, he’s got guts.”
“Yeah,” Natsuo says cheerfully. “I mean, they’re getting along too, so that’s pretty great. I think Midoriya impressed him.”
Touya whistles, long and low. “Damn,” he mutters. “Guess I’m not the favorite anymore.”
Shouto stares at the beaming Izuku chatting with his eldest brother’s old college professor. “He looks really happy. And - someone did something with his hair and face,” he says miserably. “It looks amazing. God, he’s beautiful. Do you think he’ll ever smile at me again?”
Touya and Natsuo exchange a glance, Natsuo holding up his hands in a ‘I’m not touching that’ manner. Touya sighs, and claps Shouto on the back.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he says firmly. “Now, c’mon, I’m getting married to the prettiest bird in the world in a couple of minutes, the least you can do is stand up straight, understood?”
“He’s beautiful,” Shouto says, slouching and desolate. “He hates me.”
Touya whacks him on the back of his head. “Look, Shouto, I’m not dealing with a drama episode at my own wedding. Get it together, dammit. You can talk to him at the party.”
Shouto nods, still miserable.
Touya sighs, exchanging another look with Natsuo.
“Come on, Shouto-bro,” Natsuo says, a little more gently. “Midoriya seems like a nice guy, yeah? I’m sure everything will be fine.”
Shouto nods again, slightly less miserable than before.
“That’s the spirit!” Natsuo cheers, slapping him on the back. “Now, come on. Time to give Touya away.”
“What,” Touya says flatly.
“Yep,” Natsuo says, hustling Shouto and the other groomsmen into line. “Giving you to Keigo. You’ll be missed, Touya-bro. I mean, only kinda though. You always turn the AC too low.”
“I’m not a commodity that you can just give away,” Touya hisses irritably as Natsuo happily ignores him. “Dammit, Natsu, listen - ”
“Oh, look at that,” Natsuo says cheerfully, pushing Touya out through the columns. “Time to go!”
Shouto laughs a bit at Touya’s grumpy face as he makes his way to the altar, and Natsuo grins at him. “You guys will be fine,” he says softly, stepping out and following Touya.
Shouto’s grin dims slightly, but - it’s still there when he slips out through the columns and makes eye contact with Izuku.
Izuku’s hesitant, but he still smiles at Shouto, soft and sweet and god, Izuku was really pretty - was that eyeshadow? Whatever it was, he liked it.
Shouto smiles at Izuku, stronger and lighter as the double doors creak open, and Keigo steps in.
The wedding’s amazing. It’s expensive and beautiful, and Shouto has the unprecedented honor to watch his eldest brother’s face completely melt from grumpy to awed - something that he’ll hold over Touya’s head for the rest of his life.
He looked like a puppy watching his owner coming home, to be honest.
It was cute! It just didn’t fit with Touya’s… well, everything.
Keigo was absolutely glowing though, so at least he was happy.
The wedding guests all move out to the botanical gardens to start the afterparty, and Shouto tries not to be nervous as he heads over to Izuku.
Izuku meets him halfway, in the midst of the party, grinning up at him.
“Shouto,” he says, and his eyes are bright, and his smile could melt seasoned killers, and god, Shouto is so in love. “Shouto, you will not believe who I met.”
Shouto smiles down at him, the knot in his stomach loosening. “Who?” he asks, settling Izuku’s hand on Shouto’s shoulder, slipping his hand onto Izuku’s back.
Izuku sparkles at him as Shouto links their hands together and starts to waltz. “Shouta Aizawa," Izuku says wondrously. “Eraserhead. Shouto, the man’s brilliant.”
“Do I need to worry about competition?” Shouto teases.
Izuku gapes at him. “Shouto! This is Shouta Aizawa! Eraserhead! He’s a genius!”
Shouto laughs, spinning Izuku. “I know,” he says dryly. “He was Touya’s professor, after all.”
Izuku pauses, and tilts his head in grudging agreement. “Still,” he insists. “Shouta Aizawa, Shouto, the man’s amazing.”
Shouto laughs again, bringing Izuku in closer and fondly kissing him on the forehead.
“Are we… are we okay?” he asks tentatively, neatly sidestepping an over-exuberant couple.
Izuku frowns up at him, looking vaguely reproachful. “Of course,” he says. “Shouto, I do love you, but - it would’ve been nice to know about your dad. Like, I know that you hate him and never really talked about him, but - well, some warning would’ve been nice.”
Shouto winces, spinning Izuku again to give himself time to think.
“I’m sorry,” he says when he and Izuku are back face to face. “I really am - I should’ve told you that he’d be there. Honestly, I didn’t really want you to meet my father.”
Izuku’s expression softens. “I know,” he says. “Your dad is kinda - um - yeah, he’s kinda a dick.”
Shouto sputters with laughter, the waltz sliding to a stop.
“Aptly said,” he says, cupping Izuku’s cheek. “I really am sorry,” he adds, regretful. “I should’ve told you.”
Izuku grins at him. “It’s alright. Just - no more big secrets between the two of us, okay? I’ve already told you mine.”
Shouto smiles at him, the knot in his stomach completely disappearing as he dips down and kisses Izuku.
“I promise,” he tells Izuku after he surfaces.
Izuku blinks at him, a little dazed, cheeks flushed and lips a bit puffy. “Uh - yeah. Thanks.”
Shouto feels his smile tugging wider, and he brushes a thumb over Izuku’s cheekbone, admiring him.
“You look great, by the way,” Shouto says, appreciative eyes sliding over the eyeshadow and suit. “I should’ve mentioned it earlier, but you - you look beautiful.”
Izuku grins up at him, bashful. “Thanks,” he says. “You look beautiful too - I didn’t know you had pierced ears,” he adds, fiddling with the small ruby earring in Shouto’s left ear.
Shouto chuckles, lightly pulling at Izuku’s tie. “Yeah,” he says fondly, eyebrows scrunching at the odd knot. “You really can’t tie ties, huh?”
Izuku pouts. “Bully,” he complains, lightly tugging at Shouto’s ear.
Shouto’s grin grows wider, and he leans forward for another kiss as Izuku slips his arms around his neck.
“Woah there, keep it in your pants, Shouto-bro,” Natsuo chides, slapping the back of Shouto’s head, knocking his forehead against Izuku’s. “Hey, Midoriya.”
Izuku’s bright red, rubbing against a small red spot on his forehead. “Hi!” he squeaks. “Hi - uh - it’s good to see you!”
Shouto turns around and glares at Natsuo. “Really?” he demands, aggrieved, a matching red spot on his forehead.
“Hey, I dealt with your drama earlier,” Natsuo says, eyebrows raised. “And - well, not to be the bearer of bad news, but - Dad wants you, Shouto.”
Shouto stiffens, lips twisting into a frown. “Fine,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss Izuku one last time. “I’ll be back as soon as I can - ”
Natsuo coughs into his fist. “No,” he says. “Uh - he wants both you and Midoriya.”
Izuku frowns, worried. “Both of us?” he asks, heart hammering in his chest.
“Both of you,” Natsuo says grimly.
Izuku and Shouto exchange a worried glance, but nod and follow Natsuo as he leads them deeper into the sprawling pathways of the botanical gardens.
“What’s going on with Fuyumi, by the way?” Shouto asks.
Natsuo sneers - which is unusual, and also not a good sign. “Her boyfriend cheated,” he says, kicking at a rock. “Asshole.”
Izuku’s eyebrows crease. “Is she okay?”
“Well - I mean - yeah? Kinda? Between the two of them, she was the one who owned the penthouse and like, fourteen other apartment buildings. So he’s the one who’s going back to live with his mom. But - well, you know Yumi. She’s not - she’s actually a good person, so that doesn’t really give her a whole lot of satisfaction. So emotionally, she’s - not good, and since it’s Touya’s wedding, that means she’s going to try to hold all of it in, which just makes things worse.”
Shouto’s face hardens. “Her boyfriend’s living with his mom now, then?”
“No murder schemes,” Natsuo says, rolling his eyes. “Trust me, Touya’s already tried, and Yumi got upset with him. On a brighter note though - you know Keigo’s friend? Usagiyama or something? She’s having a drink with Yumi, and I think she’s actually cheering her up.”
Shouto’s still frowning. “What’s Usagiyama like?”
Natsuo shoots him an exasperated look. “Rich,” he says. “I don’t know? Go ask Keigo or something. I think their businesses have like, this trade agreement or something.”
Izuku snickers at Shouto’s disgruntled look.
“I’m sure your sister can take care of herself,” he says fondly, patting Shouto’s arm.
“I know she can,” Shouto protests. “Trust me - I really, really know she can - ”
Natsuo snorts at this. “Is this the judo incident?”
“Yeah. Anyways, I know Fuyumi can take care of herself, but that doesn’t mean that she deserves to have her heart broken.”
“The judo incident?” Izuku repeats, curious.
“It was great,” Natsuo says, grinning.
“The four of us were at this party when we were kids,” Shouto explains. “And we were sitting under this tree, just kind of hanging out, when this weird kid comes up to us and starts insulting us. Touya got really upset and I think he was going to try to beat that kid up, but then Fuyumi stood up, insulted him back, and told him to leave. But he didn’t, so she judo flipped him.”
Izuku gapes. “Wow,” he says. “Your sister’s amazing.”
“She is,” Shouto and Natsuo say in unison, exchanging a fond look.
Izuku laughs.
They continue walking along the stone path, until Natsuo stops.
“He’s right ahead,” he says, gesturing to a small alcove before turning away and heading back to the afterparty. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Shouto says, interlocking his hand with Izuku’s. He moves forwards, but Izuku doesn’t.
“You okay?” he asks, looking down at Izuku, concerned.
“I’m great,” Izuku says, taking a deep breath. “Great. Wonderful. Okay. Bawk bawk, bitch,” he whispers to himself, flexing his free hand.
“What?”
Izuku startles and turns bright red. “Nothing!” he says hurriedly. “Just - just something Ochako told me. To cheer me up, you know?” Izuku laughs nervously. “That’s all. I - it’s nothing weird.”
Shouto raises an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smile. “Okay,” he says, amused.
“Yep.” Izuku clears his throat. “That’s all. Nothing weird.”
Shouto snickers.
“Okay, let’s go!” Izuku says, flustered, tugging Shouto forwards.
Enji’s waiting for them, standing next to a table with papers spread out, manilla folders strewn across the surface.
“Shouto,” he greets coldly, casting a dismissive eye over Izuku. “Midoriya.”
“Dad,” Shouto replies. Izuku says nothing.
“I’ll get straight to the point. This relationship cannot continue.”
Shouto sighs. “Dad, if you’re fine with Touya and Keigo, then - ”
“That’s not it,” Enji says, cutting across Shouto with an undertone of glee. “Midoriya, your family - your background is unacceptable. You cannot join our family.”
“Excuse me?” Izuku says sharply. “My mother is a kind, hardworking - ”
“Your mother married a criminal,” Enji snaps. “You are the son of a criminal.”
“So what?” Shouto asks. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“You knew?” Enji demands, whirling on him. “Shouto, there are certain standards for the kind of people that you may date - Midoriya fails to meet a single one of them.”
“You don’t get to be the judge of that,” Shouto retorts, sharp and angry. “I love Izuku.”
“He is the son of a criminal,” Enji repeats, furious. “That alone is enough - ”
“No, it’s not,” Izuku says angrily. “Hisashi was arrested when I was like, five. And even then, he was barely around. He hit my mom, you - you absolute, inconsiderate asshole! He means nothing to me, and the only good thing he did for Mom was inadvertently introduce her to the person who actually raised me - my actual dad, Toshinori.”
“And you have no right to judge him,” Shouto adds, gripping Izuku’s hand tighter. “Or to dig into his past like that.”
Enji’s furious, his face a bright red color that nearly matched his hair.
“Shouto,” he says, low and angry. “This boy will bring nothing to our family but dishonor. You cannot date him. You cannot marry him. This relationship will not continue.”
Shouto stares at Enji, flat and unamused. “I’m an adult. You don’t control me; I can do whatever I want, and you can’t stop me,” he says, blood boiling in his veins.
“Shouto - ”
“Fuck off, Dad,” he snaps. “I’m a fully grown adult, and I’m not under your thumb anymore. I don’t owe you anything. Want to disown me? Fine. See if I care. My business is perfectly lucrative, and you can’t touch it. You can’t do anything to me anymore,” he hisses. “I’m not in your cage. Touya isn’t, Fuyumi isn’t, Natsuo isn’t, and Mom sure as hell isn’t. I can date who I want, and you don’t get to say shit. Bawk bawk, bitch,” Shouto adds mockingly. He has no idea what it means, but by Izuku’s choked laughter, it’s probably a good thing.
Izuku clears his throat. “We’ll leave you to it,” he says, dragging Shouto back to the party and leaving Enji fuming behind them.
“I can’t believe you said that!” Izuku whispers to Shouto as they run down the path. “Why did you say that?”
“You said it first,” Shouto points out.
“Yeah, but you didn’t even know the meaning behind it!”
Shouto snorts. “I don’t need to,” he returns. “It sounded rude enough.”
Izuku gapes at him, before laughing. “True,” he admits. “Ugh. Your dad’s a dick, you know that, right?”
Shouto grimaces as they slow to a stop, the sounds of the party reaching their ears. “Don’t remind me,” he says.
Izuku cracks a tentative grin, but it’s still clear that he’s rattled from Enji’s less than tactful… well, everything, really.
“I’m sorry,” Shouto offers, wincing.
“Don’t be,” Izuku says, glancing at Shouto. “It’s not like you made him do it or something.”
“Still,” Shouto insists, guilt festering in his stomach. “If I was more careful, he wouldn’t have felt the urge to - to do that.”
Izuku smiles at him, soft and warm. “It’s okay. Really.”
Shouto peers at him, still uncertain, and Izuku laughs, tugs him closer, and kisses him, framing Shouto’s face with his hands.
“It’s not your fault,” Izuku says firmly once he pulls back.
Shouto swallows, manages to crack a small grin, and Izuku beams.
“C’mon,” Izuku says, hands still tucked around Shouto’s cheeks, warm and firm and solid. “Let’s go back to the party.”
“...sure.”
They run the rest of the way down the stone path, framed by exotic and brightly colored plants, and even if they don’t know it, both of them thought that not a single one of the plants were as bright or kind as the person running next to them.