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“An’ then I told him—! I told him, ‘Shinsou, y’can’t brainwash me… if I don’ have any brains t’begin with!’ That’s what I told’im!”
“That’s very clever, Denki,” Shouto replied emotionlessly, taking a deep sip of his sparkling champagne and casting his gaze out across the crowds of people. Kaminari kept chattering at his side, regaling Shouto with the story of one thing than another, but he wasn’t too difficult to tune out as Shouto searched the room for the one man he wanted to see.
Izuku was across the floor, chatting with what seemed to be an equally drunk Hatume Mei. Shouto knew that she was drunk because when Mei started drinking, she started tinkering with the objects around her, nothing too useless or mundane to be of use.
Currently, it seemed Izuku’s boutonnière had been turned into the kind of flower a clown would use in an act, capable of squirting water (in this case, it looked like white wine) onto innocent passerby.
Izuku watched her work, looking a bit like a parent watching their child at a science fair - sort of fond, but also exasperated.
He was still just as stunning in his all white suit as he had been all night - and shockingly, none of their drunk friends had spilled anything on it. Yet. The reception hall was lit dimly, not quite enough to fully see the vibrant color of his curls, but decent enough to appreciate him. They’d both slicked their hair back for the occasion, and Izuku looked especially charming with his bright eyes on full display.
At least, he would if Shouto ever actually got to see him from anything closer than across the room.
The wedding ceremony itself had been hours ago at least, and Shouto hadn’t had the chance to be within ten feet of his new husband since he’d been pulled off to Kirishima’s table at the tail end of dinner. It hadn’t really mattered then, but once they’d started the reception separated, there hadn’t been a chance to reconnect. Everyone wanted to chime in with their congratulations, ask about the planning of the event, give a long-winded explanation of their own wedding - thank you, Present Mic.
Long story short, Shouto hadn’t had the chance to revel in the whole ‘married couple’ thing yet - and he was getting pretty damn tired.
As if magically sensing his discontent, Izuku’s head turned just a fraction, enough to catch Shouto unabashedly staring at him. He smiled that wonderful smile and shifted his torso to face him fully. Mei didn't seem to notice or care, too fixated on her newest invention, which Shouto was about eighty percent sure involved Iida’s shoe.
Izuku raised his eyebrows in a silent question before he subtly gestured to the back of the room with a minuscule jerk of his head, his eyes glinting with mischief as he winked shamelessly.
Shouto followed his gesture until his gaze rested on the shiny glass doors that led to the gardens in the sprawling courtyard of the venue they’d rented out for the night.
Ah. So that was what Izuku had in mind.
He looked back at Izuku with his eyebrows raised, to which his husband just shot him another wink. Shouto nodded subtly and turned back to where Kaminari had been standing, only to find a patch of empty space. His gaze flickered around until he spotted the blond draped over Tetsutetsu, chatting amicably with Kendou.
Well, that solved the matter of escaping that conversation. Now all he had to do was make it outside.
But, of course, it was far too much to ask to make it to the doors uninterrupted. First, Midnight had a dozen questions about where they’d purchased their alcohol - I don't know, Midnight-sensei, you’d have to ask Ashido. No, I don't want a sip of your martini, thank you. Then, Shiozaki wanted to know why there was so much alcohol for an entirely different set of reasons - no, Shiozaki, we can’t just throw it all out, we paid a lot of money for it. And, of course, Natsuo had to sling his arm around Shouto’s shoulder when he was just steps from the door and boast about the beautiful woman he’d seen from across the floor, and- Nejire-chan isn’t interested in men, and she’s certainly not interested in you, Natsuo.
Finally, finally, Shouto made it to the glass separating the party from the quiet outdoors, and slipped out as silently as possible.
Stepping out into the courtyard and shutting the door behind himself was like stepping into another world. The persistent thump of the music was muffled the instant the soft click of the door sounded, and it steadily faded as Shouto made his way down the worn path until it couldn’t be heard at all.
The gardens hadn't been touched by Uraraka’s interior designing spree, save for a few strings of fairy lights wrapped around tree trunks and strung between branches. It was sort of nice, being in a place that didn’t feel organized to death - and God only knew how much Shouto had stared at the pictures of that reception hall until they’d given in and passed the decoration reigns to Uraraka. He’d seen enough of it to last a lifetime.
The gardens were blissfully quiet as Shouto took his time strolling down the path. Nothing but the occasional breeze rustling the leaves and the harmony of crickets disturbed the still night air, a stark contrast to the shrieking laughter and bass-boosted music from inside the reception.
He hadn’t had the chance to explore the gardens much, but the cobblestone was clear against the dark dirt and it didn’t take long to reach what seemed to be the path’s natural end where it came up on a row of hedges lining a sea of rolling hills.
Izuku was already there, standing silhouetted by silver moonlight as he looked out across the sprawling view in front of him. Shouto could tell from behind him that his hair was no longer slicked back, his curls messy and tousled in a way that looked like a hand had been run through them.
Outlined by the soft light of the moon, he cut a clean figure, his suit jacket nowhere to be seen. His hands were jammed into his back pockets and the sleeves of his button up had been rolled up to his elbows, exposing scarred, freckled forearms. Shouto had been sneaking glances at the way his thighs stretched the material of his navy pants all night, but it was even better from the back.
He knew that Izuku heard him approaching from behind - years of working to hone their senses and instincts meant sacrificing little things like surprise hugs. But that didn’t deter Shouto from snaking his arms around Izuku’s waist from behind, kissing up his neck and onto the shell of his ear as his husband - his husband - laughed breathlessly.
“Hello to you too, Shou,” Izuku chuckled, running a crooked hand up and down Shouto’s arm.
“Hello,” Shouto responded dutifully, before returning to press his lips onto the spot right under Izuku’s ear. He smelled of cologne and summer nights and home. Shouto smiled into the kiss, unable to help himself.
Izuku was his husband.
As if he’d read Shouto’s mind, the man in his arms let out a quiet sigh, his whispered voice solitary in the silent gardens. “I can’t believe we actually made it.”
Shouto loosened a breath, dropping his chin onto Izuku’s shoulder and humming gratefully when a hand came up to wrap around his head.
“I can. I think Ashido has had a bet on us getting married since third year.”
Izuku laughed at that, free and clear. “I can understand that. Ochako caught me making a Pinterest board about it in second year,” he chuckled.
“A Pinterest board? Of our wedding?” Shouto asked, a smile tugging on his lips. Izuku nodded, still giggling, before he leaned his head back to rest it on Shouto’s shoulder.
“In second year… Izuku, we didn’t get together until after we graduated.”
“Yeah,” Izuku agreed, a smile in his voice.
Shouto huffed a laugh at that, dropping his head and nuzzling into the crook of his husband’s neck. “Speaking of bets, Yaomomo is taking us out to lunch when we get back from America.”
“Hmm. What’s the occasion?” Izuku hummed, sounding like he wasn’t exactly paying attention.
“Her bet was on Bakugou crying during his best man speech.”
Izuku let out a laugh. “God, she’s the smartest woman I know. I never would have bet money on Kacchan crying. I wish middle school me could see it…”
Shouto smiled, not without melancholy. “I wish middle school me could see us.”
“I never would have believed it,” Izuku hummed in agreement, equally bittersweet.
“Standing here, with a ring on my hand and the love of my life in my arms…” Shouto trailed off, nudging his nose into the soft spot between where Izuku’s neck met his shoulder. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m here.”
“But you are,” Izuku replied readily. “I’m here, and you’re here. It’s like a miracle.”
Shouto smiled into Izuku’s neck. “Can it really be called a miracle if it feels like it was… meant to happen?”
Izuku let out a little breath, to which Shouto pressed a light kiss onto his shoulder.
“No, I guess not.”
Izuku seemed to relax in Shouto’s arms, his chest curling in a bit and fitting perfectly into Shouto’s own. They slotted together like puzzle pieces - they always had. In ways like that, it truly did feel like it was meant to happen. Like it was inevitable.
Shouto and Izuku, Izuku and Shouto.
Meant to be.
Shouto liked the way that sounded.
“I love you,” Izuku said suddenly, softly.
“You make the happiest I’ve ever been,” Shouto replied easily, squeezing his arms ever so slightly tighter around Izuku’s waist.
Shouto stood, a married man, with the person who meant the most to him in his arms. He stood, with his chest flush with Izuku’s back. He was still taller than Izuku, but his husband was much broader, much stockier. Shouto thought he was perfectly shaped.
“I love you,” Izuku said again. Shouto could hear the smile in his voice. “I really, really do.”
“You’re everything to me,” Shouto replied, pressing a soft kiss under his husband’s ear. “You’re everything.”
He could feel Izuku breathing, his heart beating. Izuku was so alive, he was always so alive, and standing there with him, bound by rings and vows and a kiss, Shouto felt alive, too.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And no words had ever felt more wonderful to be spoken.