Archive of Our Own

“Do you have to be so loud?” Satoru grumbles, his eyes scrunched closed. “You’re huffing and puffing over there loud enough to blow our house down. I know the news isn’t that interesting.”

They still have an hour or so before they need to be up, but Suguru always wakes earlier than Satoru. He usually spends that time scrolling through various articles on his phone, peaceful and quiet beside him in bed. Not quiet enough for Satoru this morning, clearly.

He’s kinda cute when he’s hungover, Suguru thinks. It won’t last long; Satoru is already healing himself, though that will have no effect on his performance of piteous man. Suguru wants to tease him.

“They say when you’ve been together long enough, even the sound of your partner’s breathing can become infuriating,” he grins. “Guess that means you still love me.”

“Of course I love you, you prick.” Suguru is forced to dodge his own pillow as his lover halfheartedly chucks it at him in a huff of sleepy annoyance. “If you love me, why’d you let me drink so much?”

He has to laugh. “You had half a shot of Fireball and one Moscow mule, Satoru.”

“And it was two drinks too many,” Satoru shamelessly insists, glaring.

“And it was two drinks too many,” Suguru agrees, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“It’s Utahime’s fault,” Satoru decides once adequately placated. “She doesn’t like me, that’s why she doesn’t care what happens to me. Why do we keep partying with her, Suguru?”

“You mean,” he hums, “why do I keep letting you talk me into crashing her events together?”

“Because you love me, we’ve been over this, keep up.” Satoru puts a hand over Suguru’s face, shushing him. “You really should start telling me no, Suguru. The only good thing that came out of last night was my complimentary copper mug.”

Suguru takes his hand down, kissing his knuckles. “It wasn’t complimentary. You stole it.”

“I really wanted it,” comes his moaned, pathetic defense. “I still don’t wanna give it back.”

He consoles, “I doubt they’ll miss the mug that much.”

“Suguru,” he whines, tugging insistently on his shirt. Pointedly, suggestively, he adds, “The sunlight is so bright and you’re so far away.”

“Satoru,” he laughs, giving him a proper kiss or three. “There are quicker ways to ask for affection.”

“Mm. Show them to me?” Satoru looks up at him through his lashes, scarcely letting a breath escape between them. “Look at that,” he smiles, slow and sweet, as Suguru braces himself over him. Satoru caresses the back of Suguru’s neck. “I’m already starting to feel better.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Suguru teases, “You’re lucky I love you.”

Satoru laughs, his eyes shining. “The luckiest.”

They spend more time than they probably should trading soft kisses. Eventually, they do get out of bed. It’s a weekday—they have some unavoidable responsibilities to take care of now.

Suguru elbows Satoru for taking up too much counter space while they brush their teeth, as he does every morning. In retaliation, because he’s a brat, Satoru elbows Suguru while he’s rinsing with mouthwash and nearly makes him choke on it. Surviving that to get dressed, the couple make their way out to the kitchen.

Suguru throws together breakfast for the family while Satoru gets the kids’ lunches in order, slipping into their usual morning routine. Suguru is plating the food and Satoru is nearly finished himself when they hear the kids coming.

They can’t see them yet, but from the direction of their rooms Suguru can hear feet stomping. He thought they grew out of running through the house ages ago, but they seem especially robust this morning. He and Satoru make eye contact; this is not a welcome release of that newfound energy.

“Oi!” Suguru scolds, “If you keep running around the house in your socks, you’re gonna end up busting your heads open!”

Breathless, Tsumiki clambers into her usual seat at the table moments later. “I win!”

“I know you heard me,” Suguru huffs as the rest of them file in. They don’t need to be told anything to start helping themselves to the pancakes and breakfast sausages at the table, passing around the syrup in an orderly fashion that belies everything else they do. “And I know you know better.”

“You said not to run around in our socks.” Cheeky, Nanako asks, “Then does that mean we can run without our socks on?”

“You know it does not,” Satoru tuts. “I know you think your aunt is all powerful, but Shoko has enough work to do without dealing with you rascals.”

Nanako just laughs, fully aware of what she’s doing and why the four of them are being reprimanded. Maybe Yaga is right; Suguru and Satoru might let these kids get away with far too much. But what else are they supposed to do? The children are too cute, and their mischief making isn’t that bad. Sure, right now Megumi is hogging the eggs and Nanako is holding the fruits hostage until he relents, but they’ll likely sort that out themselves given a few more moments. The adults can step in later if not.

“Rascals? Rascals?!” Tsumiki gasps, feigning offense. She learned how to act from Satoru, that’s for sure. “Auntie would never call us rascals.”

“She loves us, she doesn’t deal with us,” Mimiko sticks out her tongue. “Seeing us makes her day!”

Suguru pours some juice into everyone’s cups, patting Tsumiki and Mimiko on their heads as he goes around the table. “Yes, of course. Satoru is sorry for implying otherwise.”

Satoru plucks the fruit salad from Nanako and the plate of eggs from Megumi, passing them around. “Suguru is not sorry for telling you to stop running in the house.”

“Don’t speak for each other,” Megumi grumbles. “It’s weird.”

They just laugh, Satoru ruffling the boy’s hair as he moves back toward the kitchen to do the final touches on everyone’s lunches.

“I think it’s cute and romantic,” Tsumiki disagrees. “They love each other!”

“Yeah,” Suguru smiles. “We do.”

Nanako puts aside her earlier differences with Megumi to wince. “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

“I promise it’s not,” Satoru sings. “Now, Megumin, are we still vegetarian or do you want octopus hotdogs in your bento?”

Mimiko raises her hand. “I want octopus hotdogs!”

“Me too! And I want a smiley face on my omurice, please,” Nanako requests.

Tsumiki hums, “Can I have a star this time on mine?”

“As you wish, my favorite princesses! Done, done, and done.”

“Satoru was talking to me,” Megumi snaps at his sisters. “Dad, I want hotdogs and a puppy.”

Satoru blinks. “A puppy on your omurice or…?”

“If Megumi is getting a puppy, can I have Jellybean the cat?”

“Jellybean the cat isn’t up for adoption. He’s lost and his family is looking for him, remember? That’s what the flyers were for.” Suguru shakes his head, disappointed in himself for getting sucked into that obvious redirect. “And no one said Megumi is getting a pet.”

“Why not?”

“Yeah, Papa, why not?”

“What if it’s for all of us?”

“Can we name it after Jellybean?”

“Oh,” Satoru realizes, looking at four identical pouts with eyes too clever to pull off the innocent look they’re attempting. “Suguru,” he turns. “We’re being trapped.”

“Hardly,” he resists. “Though they certainly get points for working together.”

Satoru takes his seat at the table. “Finish your breakfast, kiddos. Me and Suguru will talk about getting a family pet, but no promises, okay?”

Breakfast goes quickly after that, the children suddenly on their very best behavior. They must really want this pet, which means this is only the beginning of their campaign.

While they disappear to go brush their teeth, Suguru stares Satoru down. He’s the weak link between them, and they all know it.

Their children are strategic, Suguru has to respect it. Convincing Satoru of anything takes at most ten minutes while Suguru can hold out for double that on a good day. If their kids get Satoru on their side first? Forget about it, it’s done. Suguru can put up at least a nominal front of restraint for their kids, but it’s impossible to say no to Satoru.

He has to get ahead of this. “Satoru, do not come home tomorrow with a dog.”

“I would never! That said,” he lowers his voice. “Once they really commit to this, I’ll be able to give you a ten minute warning, max.”

“I know,” Suguru sighs. The first please, Dad? aimed at Satoru outside of Suguru’s direct supervision will result in at least one new fur ball addition to their family. He shakes his head, helpless to a small smile. “I love you, Satoru.”

He holds Suguru’s face still, pressing a kiss to both of his cheeks. “Even if I come home with a dog tonight, right, Suguru?”

“Mm,” he hums, turning to face him head on, their lips brushing. “But you better not.”

Time gets away from them, caught up in one another’s embrace. Suguru doesn’t know what it is about today, he’s feeling sentimental and wants to keep close. There’s an itch under his skin when Satoru is out of reach, he wants to keep both his eyes and his hands on him.

Suguru smiles, tapping along to Satoru’s heartbeat at his pulse point. We’re doing alright, aren’t we?

“Gross,” Megumi announces his return. “Dad, Papa. We need our bentos so we can go to school, please.”

They weren’t even kissing when he came in, but now they share another quick peck just to mess with the kid, more the mwah sound effect than any actual press of their lips. “Sure thing, Megumin!”

Tsumiki, at nine years of age, is professedly too old to let her fathers walk her to school, and her younger siblings follow her example. The four of them walk together from the house to school, joining up with a couple classmates on the way.

“You kids stick together and be safe!”

“See you when we get back. Love you!”

Waving from the doorway, they watch their children disappear down the street. Suguru can’t help but think about how quickly they’ve grown up.

Shamans aren’t usually expected to make it this far, but Suguru and Satoru are the strongest. They’re not meant for such pathetic boundaries—they set the bar. By all rights, one or both of them should be dead or insane by now. Instead, they’re thriving. Satoru and Suguru have four beautiful children, and they wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Four years, that’s it. That’s all it’s been. A lifetime in some circles, but to Suguru? It hasn’t been nearly long enough. Birthdays and holidays, kitchen mishaps and impromptu haircuts. An exercise in contentment, in being human. It’s been four years since the six of them settled down and became a family, and Suguru lives every day like they’ll get a hundred more years.

But… just because he wants more doesn’t mean he isn’t grateful for what they have now. Four years is an achievement. Maybe they should do something—it’s a good anniversary, they ought to celebrate it.

Maybe a family pet will fit nicely into that.

Suguru leans over toward his lover. “Rock-paper-scissors to see who has to clean the kitchen?”

Satoru laughs, agreeing quickly and losing faster. He’s talented like that.

Suguru wins three out of three matches, so he gets to sip leisurely on a fresh cup of coffee while Satoru tidies up the kitchen. With the way he dances around and sings his pop songs as he goes, no one would think he’s the same Satoru who was ready to end it all behind his minor hangover this morning.

Suguru can only smile as he’s serenaded so lovingly. This man, he marvels to himself. 

Sometimes, he can hardly believe he gets to have him all to himself like this. Every good thing in his life comes back to this white haired man; as long as he can keep Satoru reciprocating those same sentiments, Suguru will continue to feel this bliss. It’s all he could ask for.

Overwhelmed with his feelings, Suguru needs something to do with his hands. He plucks an orange from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. Oranges are Satoru’s favorite fruit, the one thing he can be guaranteed to eat that isn’t processed sugar, so they always have some on hand.

Finished in the kitchen, Satoru whirls around and points at Suguru, signaling him to vocalize with him. His eyes lock on the orange instead and widen in delight. He eagerly requests, “Ooh, will you peel another for me, too?”

“I will if you want a second one,” he promises. “This one is for you, Satoru.”

“Suguru,” he bats his eyelashes. “You are my favorite person of all time, you know that? I love you.”

“Here, my love,” he chuckles, handing off the fruit. Suguru scoops up the peel scraps to discard in the compost, kissing Satoru’s temple. “Enjoy.”

Satoru grins, holding out a couple of slices. “You want some?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight shining through the window on their left. Maybe it’s the way he smiles—lopsided with little crinkles around his bright eyes. Coy and proud of himself, too, because he stole Suguru’s usual seat at the table. He lets Satoru keep it, leaning against the tabletop. Maybe it’s just the fact that this is their home, the place that houses the family they built, hand in hand.

Suguru doesn’t know what about this moment resonates so strongly with him, but he’ll do his damnedest to keep it from slipping through his fingers.

“Hey, remember when you proposed to me?”

“No,” Satoru snorts, stuffing his face. He separates out a new slice and points it at Suguru. “I remember when you proposed to me and then tried to play it all off like a silly little joke. Didn’t even have time to say yes before you took it all back like a coward.”

He eats the orange out of Satoru’s hand. “If that’s the version that helps you sleep at night.”

“You know exactly what helps me sleep at night,” he smirks, caressing Suguru’s cheek softly. “Enough of your revisionist history, love. You do stupid things, too, it’s not just me. Own up to it, you’ll be fine.”

“Satoru,” Suguru says when he goes back to his orange. “Let’s get married.”

The slice slips from his hand on its way to his mouth. “Huh? Suguru. Suguru, are you serious?”

“Yeah, Satoru,” Suguru smiles. “I’m serious. Will you marry me?”

Their fingers are sticky from that chalky stuff on the inside of an orange and their kisses taste of the fruit’s juice. It gets in their hair, on their skin, seeps into their shirts. Suguru and Satoru will both be finding little bruises on their elbows and backs from all the kitchen furniture and flooring they crashed into while Satoru gave his emphatic answer.

Suguru wouldn’t want it any other way.

//

“So!” Satoru claps. “I bet you’re wondering why me and Suguru wanted you here for dinner tonight.”

As it turns out, planning a wedding is the devil’s work. 

Suguru likes the idea of it, of standing before their friends and family and declaring their love, and Satoru likes the idea of throwing a party about it, everyone celebrating in the name of their love. That means they will have a ceremony and a reception, the whole nine yards.

That said… the actual labor it takes to have a wedding? Hard pass on all fronts. Therefore, like any reasonable adults, Satoru and Suguru are going to offload all of it onto their loved ones. They have the rings and the love and the money, so their friends and family can be trusted to handle the rest. That’s why they’ve brought everyone from Tokyo Tech over for dinner tonight.

“Now that Yuki has joined the video call, Satoru and I would like to make an announcement.”

“Heyya, family,” Yuki grins. She leans closer to the camera, her connection slightly grainy as she’s busy researching abroad. Suguru doesn’t even know where she is. “Do we get to guess?”

“No,” Yaga is quick to interrupt. “You know better than to encourage them, Yuki.”

“I don’t know,” Shoko hums. “It could be fun.”

Nanami sighs, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “I want to believe you dragged us all here for a good reason, but your track record does not inspire confidence.”

“Slanderous and uncalled for, but I’ll let it slide this once because we have great, no, amazing news for you tonight,” Satoru magnanimously announces. He takes Suguru’s hand, glowing with glee. “We’re getting married!”

Ijichi drops his glass of water in surprise, but luckily it doesn’t spill. Shoko smacks his back as he starts to choke on air, abiding by her oath as a doctor.

“You guys are our closest friends,” Suguru admits. “You’re all invited, of course.”

“Nanamin, tell Haibara. He checks only your messages when he’s on a mission,” Satoru adds.

“Ah, Shoko, please inform Utahime, too. She still has Satoru and I blocked.”

“I did think you two seemed more lovey-dovey than usual recently.” Shoko tilts her cup toward them and laughs, “Congratulations.”

“Married?” Yaga echoes, seemingly frozen. Suguru is glad they can still surprise that man.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “We’re getting married.”

Yuki claps excitedly, cheering them on. “Aww, congrats, boys. I’m happy for you! When—”

“Married?!” Yaga repeats. “You’re twenty-one, what are you trying to prove?”

“Your babies are all grown up now, you gonna cry?”

“Shoko is the one mocking you, why are we getting hit?!”

“You’re closer and you’re getting married, you bastards,” Yaga glares.

Nanako leans around Nanami beside her to meet Yaga’s eyes. “They can, right?”

“Why would you ask him that?” Satoru squints, trading a look with Suguru. They had told their kids about this last week—hell, their questions about the wedding are what made the two of them realize that they had no desire to actually plan it out themselves. “Of course we can.”

“But Jiichan is the boss of you.” Mimiko blinks innocently up at them, her siblings right there beside her. “Isn’t he?”

Oh. Yaga is getting trapped. The children are very good at that. This is the beauty of parenting, Suguru decides, seeing their usual tricks used on someone else for a change.

“You’re right, Miko,” her brother nods, pouting slightly in feigned disappointment. “Jiichan is always telling Dad and Papa what to do. Their wedding won’t be an exception.”

“No. Quit it,” Yaga scowls, but he dotes on the kids even more than Satoru and Suguru. “That won’t work forever, you know.”

Satoru smiles. “It works for now, though, doesn’t it, Jiichan?”

“So, Sensei,” Suguru teases. “Do we have your blessing?”

They do. Of course they do. 

“Good,” Tsumiki smiles, “because the rings we helped them pick out are beautiful, but also nonrefundable. Now can we talk about the guest list?”

She’s the social butterfly of her siblings, so she wants to ensure that she’ll be able to invite a quarter of her school—sorry, her closest friends. It’ll take some time before they parse that down to a more manageable amount of children, but Suguru remains optimistic.

Surprising everyone, it’s their introverted son who makes the next contribution to the conversation. Megumi wants to invite a kid he met in Sendai. 

“Remember when you brought me on that mission with you, Papa?” He stares across the table, uncaring of the side eye Satoru is aiming at Suguru now. “It was ten days ago.”

“That mission we weren’t gonna tell Satoru about because you flaked on him when he went to Kyoto?”

“Yeah, that one,” he nods. Suguru sighs as Satoru scoffs in outrage. “Can the boy I met there come to your wedding? He was weird and he smiled a lot, but I think we’re friends.”

Playful ire gone, Satoru coos, “Aww! Of course your friend is welcome.”

Mimiko bounces in her seat, struck with an idea. “What about that girl we met last week, Dad?”

Nanako perks up, too. “The one in the countryside who tried to talk with a Tokyo accent!”

“And she had those two friends who hung out with us while you did your thing with the curses,” Tsumiki adds. “They were so cool, we should invite them, too!”

“Mm.” Now Suguru understands why Satoru basically laughed off something he normally would have treated as a betrayal of the century. “Interesting.”

“For the record, I was assigned a mission while we were already out having a girls’ day,” Satoru explains. “Our manicures finished early and TsuMimiNana didn’t wanna go home, they wanted to see the mountains. Not that I need to defend myself.”

“I don’t know, you sound kinda guilty,” Suguru teases, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He turns to their daughters and assures, “It’s fine by us if you want to invite your new friends.”

The girls smile wide, trading high fives, and it’s like a lightbulb goes off in Suguru’s head. The same epiphany must strike his husband because Satoru rests his head against Suguru’s shoulder and suggests, “Tsumiki, Mimiko, Nanako, and Megumi. You’re in charge of the guest list.”

“You give us the names and we’ll send out the invites.” Suguru raises his eyebrows. “Deal?”

“Deal,” they agree before breaking off into their own conversation.

Yuki jumps on the screen, looking past the camera. “Don’t forget to send me one, babes! I see my next research subject trying to escape. Dammit, my food just came out. Oh, well.” She sighs, then regroups herself, winking and blowing a kiss at the camera. “See ya!”

Should they be more concerned about the ethics of Yuki’s research? Probably yes, but honestly, they’re not even sure about the topic of her research. Besides, Satoru and Suguru have bigger things to worry about right now. The screen has already gone black.

“Okay, time for the next order of business.” Satoru gives his husband the honors. “Suguru?”

He turns toward the adults of the table. “Yaga will officiate—”

“I’m not a shinshoku,” he immediately protests. “Or an ordained minister, for that matter.”

“So?” Satoru tilts his head. “We’re not religious.”

“Satoru has a god complex, he doesn’t want to follow tradition that closely,” Suguru dismisses. “You don’t need to be a Shinto priest.”

Yaga massages his temples. “Why do you want any Shinto elements at all?”

“Aww, Sensei, keep up! Suguru likes some traditional stuff. We’ll figure out a mix that works for us.”

“Stupid students, always tempting the gods,” he curses. “There’s a course I can take at Tokyo University—or an exam, if the dates align better. You did pick an auspicious date, didn’t you?”

Shoko whistles, “I didn’t know you were this superstitious, Sensei.”

“Don’t encourage them, Shoko. Boys. Answer me.”

“They haven’t picked a date.” Astutely, Nanami declares, “This isn’t their engagement period. In their minds, they’re already married.”

“You’re not wrong, but,” Suguru begins, making it up as he goes, “we’re not clueless. We’ll take a couple weeks or so to honeymoon, so we’ll have the wedding at the end of the busy season.”

“That way, those geezers can’t interrupt us with missions or anything,” Satoru nods. “We’re also gonna use the shrine on campus.”

Yaga frowns, “The shrine on campus? That’s not a shrine, it’s just a prop. You know that.”

Suguru doesn’t see the issue. “It has all the necessary parts, doesn’t it? And it’s free.”

Yaga takes a deep breath and dissociates from the conversation; he puts his head in his hands and starts mumbling, either cursing them out or praying for them. Ijichi—who Suguru nearly forgot was even here, he’s been so quiet—pours their teacher some more water to drink.

“Getou,” Nanami sighs. “You’re marrying, and I wish I was exaggerating, the richest person I know.”

He wrinkles his nose in a wince but it’s Satoru who patiently explains, “Suguru doesn’t like when I spend money excessively—he has poor kid trauma and it stresses him out.”

“If we’re talking about our trauma now,” Shoko draws attention to herself, “I have something to say. Do your vows in private. I hear your sappy shit all the time; I don’t wanna be forced to clap and cheer for you about it just because you’re in a fancy kimono.”

“But we’ve toned ourselves down so much since school,” Satoru complains.

“I said what I said.”

“It’s a special occasion, Sho. Have a heart!”

Suguru lets those two fight. “Now, Nanami—”

“Hell no.” He abruptly rises from the table, readying himself to leave. “I’ll come, but do not offload your wedding planning business onto me, Getou-senpai.”

“Ijichi,” he redirects smoothly with a smile.

“I, um—of course, I want to congratulate you, but,” he clears his throat. “You know, I’d prefer—”

“Stop bullying the man, Suguru,” Shoko commands. “You’re worse than your husband.”

“Hear that, Suguru? She said we’re made for each other,” he grins, nose to nose.

“As if we didn’t already know,” he smiles back, closing the distance completely.

Shoko sighs, long suffering. “There’s our cue.”

Nanami gracefully bows out and Yaga follows, apparently freed from his earlier stupor. Ijichi disappears quickly, chasing Shoko’s heels. They lock the door behind themselves when they leave the house, their dishes already in the sink. Suguru isn’t sure when that happened, but he appreciates the gesture.

Satoru doesn’t notice it. He huffs, “I can’t believe they just abandoned us like this.” 

Weeks pass as their loved ones continue to stonewall any and all attempts to be further involved in Satoru and Suguru’s wedding. Ijichi could be taken out by a stiff breeze and Shoko is even more unhelpful than the free-spirited Yuki, so perhaps those three get a pass. Sensei commits to officiating and refuses anything more, but that’s fair enough. Nanami stonewalls any and all attempts to get to the kindhearted Haibara, sending so many links to different wedding planning agencies that Satoru and Suguru eventually cave to the peer pressure. 

They will do the rest of the planning on their own, in their own time. The rings they ordered come in, perfectly sized black tungsten bands studded with a river of lab-grown diamonds, so they commence their married life with no issue—there’s no difference from before, aside from a new shiny piece of jewelry they can use to brag about each other.

Yes, Shoko is incredibly tired of them.

There’s no rush for everything else. Not on their end, at least. Yaga gives them passive aggressive updates on his semi-blasphemous journey to priesthood while the three of them are working at the college, but they’ve been expertly ignoring most of what that man says for years now.

That’s a lie. Rather, it’s a fantasy. 

The truth is, as Suguru and Satoru already knew it would, wedding planning sucks. It’s exhausting and Suguru hates it. They’re already married in mind, body, spirit. They’re married in every way that conceivably matters. The rest of it is nothing—confetti in the air, no more or less. 

Maybe Suguru is throwing a tantrum, but who could blame him? Weddings are so much work, and theirs isn’t even legal. One would think that makes things easier, but apparently not. 

As such, Suguru is slowly boiling over as he counts down the seconds to lunch. He’ll be done for the day at that point, the students busy with different instructors and activities. Technically, he has to lead practical training, but the fourth years can fight on their own just fine. Besides, Satoru is free then, too; it’s the best time to get his hands on him. A tension headache is reaching a crescendo in his head, and being with Satoru will help relax him.

Suguru sets the teenagers loose and eventually finds his husband laid horizontally across the three-seater couch in the teacher’s lounge. He doesn’t have to say anything; the pair make eye contact and everything is simply understood.

Satoru stays where he is, opening his arms wide. Wordlessly, Suguru lays on top of him, burying his face in his neck. Half jokingly, he wonders, “Am I a cynic?”

“Yeah,” Satoru answers, redoing Suguru’s stick bun. After his hair ate too many pencils, Satoru gifted him the wooden hairpin a couple years ago, an instant staple in their household.

He frowns, picking up his head before Satoru finishes securing his hair. “That was quick.”

“Suguru, my love,” he laughs. “I’m shocked it took you this long to notice. You don’t respect any state enough to let the government tell you what you are and are not allowed to do. It’s your thing. The establishment and its institutions piss you off. The institution of marriage was never gonna be an exception, even with me on the other side of it.”

He stares, not quite sure what to say. Maybe he’s in shock? He doesn’t want Satoru to think he regrets anything. He believes in love, their love specifically, and he knows marriage is one way to showcase that. He just wishes the showcasing part was less… awful. 

Complaining about it is one way to relieve the stress it causes, that’s why Suguru doesn’t hold his tongue. At the same time, he doesn’t want to make Satoru think he has any doubts or regrets. This is where he wants to be in every universe.

Suguru assures, “I still want to marry you properly, Satoru.”

“I know,” Satoru hums, hugging him tighter to his chest and kissing the top of his head. “Gimme some credit. Yeah, at first I was surprised when you were so onboard with the idea, but I get it. Weddings are like funerals—they’re for our loved ones, not us. The honeymoon is where it’s at,” he grins, waggling his eyebrows. Suguru sighs, strangely relieved and begrudgingly amused. “See? Just like that. Relax, my love. Keep focusing on me,” Satoru advises, massaging Suguru’s shoulders. “That’s what works for me.”

“Yeah.” He was blinded by love; everything seemed exciting and possible. It still is, though Suguru knows better now. He tucks his face into Satoru’s neck, getting comfortable. “But we’re never having another one of these, Satoru.”

He laughs, full and bright. “We’re never having another one of these, Suguru.”

They took Nanami’s advice and hired a wedding planner, so there’s that.

Suguru and Satoru are throwing an imitation wedding more than anything else; they’re sentimental and they’re in love, but they aren’t interested in formalities and all the pomp and circumstance—of which Suguru has learned there is a lot. Some of it is nice, and the husbands are glad to include it. To that end, Nagasaki is an angel, doing her best to work with them through this. She’s great overall, very thorough and considerate.

Things have been going relatively well with Nagasaki’s help. The biggest headache Suguru and Satoru have left are their gifts of gratitude. Traditionally, those are given to parents, but with the Gojo clan failing to make the guest list and Suguru having spoken to his own family a grand total of one time since leaving home at fifteen… well.

Yaga and Yuki are their intended recipients, but Satoru and Suguru have no idea how to encompass all that those two mean to them, all that they’ve done for them, into one gift. Honestly, it feels impossible. With Satoru, the couple technically has all the money in the world to throw at this, but none of that helps. 

Ah, Suguru doesn’t know. Maybe Nagasaki will have some grand insight to help them out. They’ll have to ask her about it the next time they see her.

At least, that’s what he thought, until their kids come find them in the lounge.

Suguru thinks he’s hallucinating at first—he’s too comfortable with Satoru, listening to his heartbeat and beginning to doze even though they have responsibilities to get back to shortly. He squints, unmoving except to shake Satoru’s arm, checking if he sees them, too.

“Hmm? Wha—” Satoru stops. “Shouldn’t you guys be in school? Nobody called us.”

“They will,” Megumi says. “But don’t worry about it.”

Suguru frowns, “No, I think we will, actually. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Tsumiki says, “We fired your wedding planner.”

“… Successfully?” While dedicated and capable, they are children aged seven, eight, and nine. As far as Suguru recalls, their wedding planner—or their former wedding planner, he supposes, is an adult woman in her mid twenties.

Mimiko nods. “Yes.”

“Umm, okay,” Satoru says after a moment. He and Suguru take separate seats, giving the situation their full attention. “Can we ask why?”

“She thought Aunt Yuki was the bride to Dad’s groom and Papa was the best friend supporting Dad while his fiancée was away,” Megumi explains dispassionately. “We corrected her.”

“Oh. Well. Good. Thanks. Just—” Satoru winces, “Yikes. That’s embarrassing.”

Suguru knows same-sex weddings in Japan are few and far between, but, man. “Serious—?”

“Seriously,” Nanako snaps. “We heard her talking about how she wants to ask you out at the ceremony.”

“This isn’t our fault, is it? No. It can’t be,” Suguru shakes his head, trying to understand what they could have done to allow such a ridiculous misunderstanding. He turns to Satoru, but his lover appears just as confused. “It can’t be our fault. I mean…”

“Should we have debated more things in front of her?” Satoru frowns, kicking gently at Suguru’s foot nearest to him. “I told you that you should start telling me no more often, Suguru.”

“You didn’t mean that,” he shakes his head. “Besides, I can’t help it if I genuinely like your suggestions. You’ve been uncharacteristically reasonable.”

“I have, haven’t I?” Pleased, Satoru grins smugly before collecting himself. “This wouldn’t have happened if we ignored Shoko’s complaints about our PDA. We should start making out in public again.”

“Yeah,” Suguru laughs. “We probably should.”

Loudly, Nanako proclaims, “We’re gonna wing it and hope it’s close enough to an authentic experience.”

“It’ll be fine,” Megumi nods. “We can handle it.”

Mimiko corrects, “It’ll be better than fine! It’s gonna be great, the best wedding you will ever have.”

Tsumiki squints. “It’s the only wedding they’re ever gonna have.”

The husbands trade smiles. They really do have the best children. 

//

Satoru looks beautiful.

They haven’t gotten to see each other all day—some stupid superstition the others place entirely too much importance on, in Suguru’s humble opinion. Even now, he still doesn’t quite understand why their friends and family were so adamant about it, but he will admit that the grand reveal of his husband is impactful.

Maybe not enough to justify literally ripping them apart this morning, but enough that he won’t complain.

Satoru meets his eyes on the way to the altar, coming from opposite directions to join one another in the middle. Suguru knows their guests are to his right and Yaga on his left, but it’s as if his vision tunnels. Satoru is all he can see. The sunshine makes a halo around his head, lighting up his hair—neatly combed back for what might very well be the first time in his life.

Suguru takes in the sight of him like it’s a cool breeze in the midst of the wet heat of this summer. 

The husbands brighten when they see the full picture of the other, taking note of the new colorful patches which have replaced the traditional location for the family crest on the outermost layer of their wedding outfits. Their children had split into pairs and refused to let the opposite parent know what they were working on, hoping to surprise them. Suguru thinks they did well. 

Satoru’s black haori is crested with dragonflies on either breast, one colored blue and the other purple, as chosen by Tsumiki and Megumi. Suguru’s haori is decorated with pink and orange lotus flowers designed by the twins. The argument had been that since neither Suguru nor Satoru are close enough to their families to justify being forced to wear their crests, their real family, their children, should get to redesign them. They must have come to a thematic agreement beforehand—the children are so very clever and cooperative when they want to be. 

Time pinches and stretches, Suguru can’t explain it. Between one blink and the next, neither he nor Satoru are walking toward each other anymore—they’re already standing directly before one another. Suguru entangles their fingers to pull Satoru just that half step closer, making sure he’s real.

“Holding hands already? How salacious,” Satoru smiles, his eyes crinkled almost fully shut. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

Suguru is suddenly too choked up to respond, but just because words are difficult doesn’t mean he can’t answer Satoru. He presses their foreheads together, smiling back at his husband who is now, as he warned, flushed a pretty shade of red. Suguru has seen this look on Satoru hundreds, thousands of times. This is real, he tells himself, marveling at the thought. They’re truly here together.

“We’re meant to have a super serious moment right now,” Satoru warns, trying his hardest to tamp down on his giddy smile. It’s useless; his eyes shine as he clutches Suguru close. “Don’t start with any of your funny business today, Suguru.”

“That’s what I should be telling you,” he grins. “But I’ve learned not to waste my breath.”

Satoru’s hair smells like Suguru’s products. Something about that sets Suguru’s heart aflame, so he aims to do something about it. Just as they’re about to brush their lips together, a heavy weight on Suguru’s shoulder breaks the moment.

“If we could begin,” Yaga growls lowly, just for their ears. With one last glare, he loosens his grip and turns to face the audience behind the husbands with a smile.

Yaga has them kneel at a low-lying altar while he begins his speech. Suguru knows Yaga has put a lot of effort into preparing for today, but, unfortunately, Suguru is incapable of giving any of that his full attention. As always, Satoru is to blame. This entire setup is too reminiscent of their school days, being jointly punished for something that was definitely Satoru’s fault alone, for Suguru to focus properly.

“It’s literally always you getting us caught,” Satoru grumbles, knowing exactly what Suguru was thinking.

“Because it’s you getting us into shit,” he defends. “So troublesome.”

“That’s how you like me, though, isn’t it?” Satoru winks and Suguru has no defense of himself. He likes Satoru exactly how he is, that’s never been a secret.

They have sense enough to whisper, falling back on old habits while Yaga drones on—something about a cleansing ceremony? There’s no god of this shrine as far as Suguru knows, so he had assumed this part would be abridged. Hell, maybe it is. He has no way of knowing the difference.

“I think you’re rotting my brain from the inside out,” he huffs. “I can’t focus on anything else now.”

“Suguru,” Satoru groans. “First of all, that’s literally how it’s supposed to be. Don’t say it like I’m some tumor. You should say that I’m rotting your teeth, since I’m so sweet and lovable and perfect.”

That pulls a laugh out of him. “Only you would wanna be explicitly compared to a cavity, Satoru.”

He squeezes his hand, grinning. “I’m one of a kind, haven’t you heard?”

The time for the nuptial cups comes in the blink of an eye. Three cups of rice wine to pour for one another, to drink together. Satoru might well be the champion of all lightweights, but this much is easily within his limits. Of course, Suguru knows he won’t act like it. Dramatic bastard, he thinks to himself.

Thinking of his husband, Suguru wants to smile. He finds he already is, so his smile can only widen. He must look like a fool, but he can’t say he minds. He feels like a fool. It’s not so bad.

If anyone else was beside him now, he’d be complaining about the weather. Five layers of ceremonial kimono under this blazing sun? Sure, the clothes are loose fitting and the heat isn’t as unbearable as it will be in the coming weeks, but if not for Satoru, Suguru would never even pretend to tolerate the way he is suffocating in this humidity. He doesn’t even want to think about what it must be doing to his hair.

If anyone else was standing beside him, he wouldn’t be here at all. That’s the point, isn’t it?

Satoru rises, looking at Suguru expectantly when Yaga directs them to walk to the second altar where they’re meant to finish the ceremony. It’s only a few paces away, but Satoru doesn’t move even when Suguru makes the universal after you gesture.

He raises his brow. “I just had three shots and you’re not gonna help me walk?”

Suguru tries not to smile at his antics. He corrects, “You had three sips of rice wine, Satoru.”

“Wow, okay,” he says in a monotone, nodding his head. He tangles their hands together, leading the way. “My husband doesn’t care if I start stumbling on our wedding day. What’s next, you’re not gonna carry me through the doorway when we go home either?”

Suguru’s eyebrows pinch as he recalls the three rounds of rock-paper-scissors they played before they were cruelly separated hours ago. “Did you not call dibs on carrying me this morning?”

“I did, didn’t I?” Satoru gasps, a hand pressed over his mouth in a dry imitation of shock. “See, I’m already so buzzed that I’m losing my memory.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, ruffling Satoru’s slicked back hair into its usual spikes.

Suguru had considered, for all of ten minutes, styling his hair into something delicate and pretty for their wedding day, but then reason came back to him. Accordingly, he only did the top half of his hair into an intricate knot reminiscent of a rose, letting the rest of it hang down his back. Satoru would have tugged his hair free given half a chance anyway; that’s the only reason he’s pouting now, because Suguru stole the opportunity from him.

“Suguru!” He grumbles, uselessly patting his hair back down with both hands. “It took me so long to style my hair, you jerk.”

Suguru was going to mess it up sooner or later. He thinks of this as merely getting a headstart. “You piss me off when you look too perfect.”

Satoru punches his arm, but that does nothing to smother his laughter. “You’re such a pain.”

“Like you’re some walk in the park yourself.”

“Fine,” he sighs, taking Suguru’s hand once more. “I guess I can put up with you, so long as you put up with me, too.”

“Mm,” he hums, pretending to ponder the suggestion. “Think I’ll do a bit more than that.”

“Mm,” Satoru echoes, pressing their foreheads together. “Really? Just a bit?”

Yaga loudly clears his throat, popping the bubble that’s settled around the husbands again.

Oops. Suguru and Satoru turn away from each other to look at their audience—wedding guests who have come to support them. Because this is the real deal, not a rehearsal. They’re at Jujutsu Tech, hosting the ceremony and reception in one place with the help of all the students and college staff.

Maybe Satoru and Suguru should be a touch chagrined to be so blindingly affectionate in front of former and current and future students, but that’s not really their style. All they can do is laugh, smiling out at the sea of their loved ones.

Yuki’s cackle is heard clearly even from her position by the refreshment table, but she waves, too, in case they don’t notice her. Haibara is crying silent crocodile tears into Nanami’s handkerchief, clapping happily while Nanami sighs, quietly resigned to his blubbering. Utahime hastily dabs at her eyes—likely so that no one will see her tears. It’s probably for nothing because Shoko has her phone out panning the crowd, including a long shot of her girlfriend. She also has a video camera sitting on a tripod aimed at the altar, as if Ijichi isn’t their designated wedding photographer today.

Tsumiki waves from her seat—she’s moved back two rows since Suguru last saw her, likely so she can equally socialize with all the friends she invited to the ceremony. They didn’t end up parsing her numbers down as much as they had intended, but in their defense… Who are Satoru and Suguru to be party poopers? The little kids aren’t any more disruptive than Satoru on a good day, and today seems like a fun little field trip for them. That’s not even mentioning how Tsumiki is glowing as she shows her family off to her friends.

Mimiko and Nanako are slightly more reserved. They whisper animatedly with the girls they invited, the flamboyant Nobara with her best friend Fumi and their older, bemused guardian they call Saori-chan. They’re all too enraptured in each other’s company to mind the slight stalling of the ceremony. On the other hand, Megumi’s Sendai boy, Itadori Yuuji, watches with wide, watery eyes while sandwiched between his snoring grandfather and Megumi nodding off beside him. His smile is adorably too big for his little face, full of undeniable happiness as he witnesses the union of near complete strangers.

“Welcome back to your wedding, ass—” Yaga cuts himself off, minding his language with a sigh. “Boys. Satoru and Suguru. You had me take a class for this.”

“Technically,” Suguru hedges. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“You did that on your own, Sensei,” Satoru finishes.

“I’m trying to treat you idiots nicely today,” Yaga swears through gritted teeth. “Please stop making that so exceedingly difficult for me. If we could continue?”

Their loved ones have gathered here today, watching and cheering and rolling their eyes and drying their tears. They might as well give the people what they came here for, Suguru thinks.

Satoru agrees. “We’re ready when you are, Sensei!”

Yaga’s nostrils flare, but his tone is even. “It’s time to say your vows and exchange the rings.”

“That’s my cue,” Yuki realizes. Acting as their ringbearer, she dabs her mouth free of crumbs and bounds up the aisle with a smile. “Here you go, boys.”

She hands over two large jewelry boxes. Neither Satoru nor Suguru wanted to take off their wedding bands once they put them on for the first time—it felt too strange to be without the comforting weight of the rings on their fingers. Rather than exchange rings now, the husbands present one another with necklaces, silver chains to loop their rings onto should the need arise.

Because he can’t imagine a scenario where he would ever need to take off his ring, Suguru also has a surprise for his husband. Yuki pulls a third box out of her pocket and Satoru gasps, recognizing it as she passes it to Suguru with an excited smile.

Suguru grins at his reaction, nodding before Satoru even has to ask. The question melting from his eyes, Satoru smiles, “You get bonus points for your romanticism today, Suguru.”

He laughs. “I figured we oughta put something on our necklaces, and these were just sitting there.”

“I want your ring,” Satoru declares. “Let me put mine on yours.”

Inside the box lies their first couple rings, inscribed with the date they began dating and each other’s names. They’re simple and cheap—a joke, really. Shoko bought them for the couple the same day they officially got together. A vote of confidence for my best friends, she had said in congratulations.

It’s a dear memory to all three of them, and Suguru is glad to commemorate it here, now. The husbands were excited to put on their wedding bands when they got them, but neither wanted to permanently put away their old rings. This way, they don’t have to.

Stringing his ring onto Satoru’s chain, Suguru begins, “Four years ago, we built a family together. Three years ago we figured we should try dating, too. I don’t know,” he smiles, fixing the necklace around Satoru’s neck, “but I think it’s working out pretty well for us.”

Satoru shakes his head, threading Suguru’s necklace with his old ring. “You skipped the part where three and half years ago, you proposed to me.”

“I read an advertisement, Satoru,” he refutes for the thousandth time. “It said it’s time to think about marriage; never wash your dishes alone again! Some jewelry store and a new dish soap line were sharing ad space and I thought it was funny. It wasn’t a proposal just because I read it aloud.”

Satoru is hearing none of it, straightening out Suguru’s hair after securing his matching necklace. “You asked me to marry you before you even asked me to dinner, Suguru. That was almost as bad as the time you told me, as you were going to the airport, that you’d be spending a year traveling with Yuki as a research assistant.”

In the wake of the only mission the pair of them ever failed together, Suguru was trying not to fall victim to the shadows in his head. He had needed a change of pace and he found one—albeit, it turned out a bit different than his initial plan.

“I told you as soon as I knew I was gonna go,” he defends. This isn’t a sore spot between them anymore, though Satoru does occasionally bring it up to get his way. “And I was only gone for a week, most of which I spent coming back to you.”

“Thanks to Mimiko and Nanako.” He winks at them in the audience, “Our girls brought you home to me.”

“And in that same amount of time, you managed to adopt Tsumiki and Megumi. They made sure I still had a home to return to,” he laughs.

While traveling with Yuki at the start of his third year at the college, Suguru had happened upon two little girls wandering the roadside. They didn’t want to go home, wherever that was, and begged instead to be taken in. Yuki volunteered Suguru to take over their guardianship, laughing that he had been waiting for an excuse to get back to Satoru all along and here the gods have blessed him with the way forward.

That’s not the kinda thing you pass up, now is it, Getou-kun? Go get ‘em, kid.

Suguru took the twins with him back to Jujutsu Tech and found Satoru wrangling his own pair of children. After Suguru left, Satoru had thrown himself into his mission work, only to abruptly come to a halt when he discovered Fushiguro Toji’s kid living in a decrepit home on the verge of foreclosure. Satoru took Toji’s child and stepdaughter in without a second thought.

The two halves of their family came together easy as breathing, as soon as they laid eyes on one another. Each pair of children turned to their respective semi-adult and knew, That must be the guy you were talking about, so are those our new sisters? And the rest is history.

It was a strange set of coincidences, but Suguru knows this is the best life he could have lived. He holds Satoru’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together as he blinks away happy tears. “I don’t know who I would be without you, but I know I wouldn’t like him. You mean everything to me, and our family is my whole world. I love you, Satoru.”

“Since when is my husband so eloquent? No fair,” he sniffles, enamored and teasing. Suguru laughs, catching Satoru’s tears as they fall. “I don’t have any fancy words for it, but I have the most important ones. I really, really love you. I’m gonna stay by your side forever just to prove it, Suguru, I promise.”

Suguru believes him. And there’s really nothing left to say after that, so he pulls Satoru in and seals the deal with a kiss.

There are cheers and yelling and Satoru and Suguru have to separate because they’re laughing too hard to press their mouths together anymore. Nanami presses play on his phone and Marvin Gaye spills over the school speakers, crooning how sweet it is to be loved by you.

Satoru joins in on the next few lines, loudly harmonizing as he lets Suguru spin him round and round. He runs out of the lyrics that he knows and accordingly redirects his endless energy for speech.

“Now, where are our babies?”

“We weren’t even babies when we met,” Nanako predictably complains. It doesn’t stop her and her siblings from running up from their seats to join their fathers, though. 

They pile together in a group hug and Suguru teases, “Mm, agree to disagree.”

“It was long, huh?” Satoru asks, “Did you and your friends have fun?”

The husbands are washed in the excitable chatter of their children—their daughters, really, though Megumi is sunny enough by his own standards. Their obvious joy brings a new sheen of happy tears to Suguru’s eyes. God, this is the life. It’s his life. 

He’s vaguely aware of Ijichi nearby, snapping away on his fancy little camera, but he still nearly startles when their junior calls for the family’s attention. “Group photo? Smile, please!”

They fall into place seamlessly—Suguru and Satoru wrap their arms around each other, the children filing in. Tsumiki hugs Suguru’s side, a wide smile on her face as she lifts a corner of her dress to show off its floral design. It matches her sisters’ dresses and the pocket square in her brother’s suit nicely, made up of the same colors as the crests their fathers bear. Nanako is beside her eldest sister, an arm over Megumi’s shoulders, mimicking as best she can her favorite model pose. Mimiko, with her gap-toothed smile, completes the image as she leans against Satoru on Megumi’s other side. 

Suguru’s family is pretty and photogenic; he knows they’re quite the sight to see. 

Satoru surprises him with a kiss to the cheek just as Ijichi snaps a second picture. When Suguru turns slightly toward him in pleasant surprise, he smirks, “Your smug face is good for one picture, but not two.”

The laugh that comes out of Suguru then is a total surprise. “I suppose we can take turns.”

“Dad, Papa,” Nanako scolds. 

“Focus,” Mimiko complains. 

“Don’t mess up Uncle Jichi’s pictures,” Tsumiki chastises.

“He’s taken like, a thousand,” Satoru defends.

“He’s a professional,” Suguru adds. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Your family is beautiful,” Ijichi praises behind the lens, snapping a final photo. He sighs, “I’ll let you go. Congratulations on your union, Senpai. I wish you blessings and prosperity.”

“Congrats,” Megumi offers blandly a fraction of a second after Satoru and Suguru give Ichiji their thanks. “I still think this is embarrassing, but you look really happy. It’s time to eat now, right?”

His fathers laugh and his sisters groan, but it’s a fair point. Suguru sends all of their children off to eat and spend time with their friends, encouraging Ijichi to do the same.  

Holding Suguru’s hand, Satoru implores their children’s disappearing backs, “Don’t forget to save a dance for us!”

They hardly have time to bask in each other’s company—and Ijichi has no time at all to make his escape—before Shoko appears from behind them. Their oldest friend jumps up and wraps her arms around their necks, her feet dangling in the air between Satoru and Suguru.

Reliable man that he is, Ijichi gets the picture.

Trusting them to keep her steady, Shoko smirks, “You bastards talked the whole ceremony.”

Suguru laughs, a halfway apologetic shrug. “Force of habit.”

“Sensei talks for too long and it feels like a lecture, you know?” Satoru waves his hand, light and dismissive. “We don’t like to be bored.”

There’s so much amusement packed into the arching of Shoko’s brow. “You didn’t last thirty seconds.”

“What a funny way to say congratulations.”

“Congrats. Now help me finish up your wedding gift.” Shoko idly swings her feet in the direction of her video camera. “I recorded everything, so one day you two can actually experience all the work that went into this.”

“Wait, that’s actually really sweet,” Satoru realizes. “Shoko!”

“I know, I’m amazing.” Shoko pats their shoulders, signaling them to set her down. “Go and finish presenting your gifts of gratitude. I wanna catch those tears on film, too.”

Their acting wedding photographer is quite focused on his role. “Film would pair nicely with the stills I took of the two of Yaga-sensei and Tsukumo-san crying earlier when you gave them their ‘honored guest’ sashes.” Ijichi remembers himself, his eyes blowing wide. “Oh! No, I mean—”

Satoru throws his head back in laughter. “That’s the spirit, Ijichi-kun! Keep it up!”

Suguru reaches out and pats his shoulder. “Good job, Ijichi-kun. Help Shoko move her set up so we can get this done.”

He’s excited about this, Suguru realizes, though he’s still not that confident in the gift he chose. Still, Yuki and Yaga both teared up simply receiving small sashes of recognition for the ceremony and reception. Perhaps they won’t be too difficult to please.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” Satoru mumbles.

Suguru pulls him into a sudden kiss. Abruptly, he releases him and decides, “Yeah, it’s weird. Let’s do it at the same time.”

“Asshole.” Satoru retaliates with a second kiss. “Okay, let’s do it. Yaga! Yuki! Come here, please!”

Yuki comes, teasing about how demanding they are; Yaga comes, barking about how rude they are. Suguru doesn’t hear any of it. 

“Ah, wait. We don’t even have the gifts.”

Shoko presses the appropriate bags into their hands. “What would you do without me?”

Grateful, Suguru and Satoru both press chaste kisses to her cheeks, laughing when her face crumples in distaste as she pushes them away. It’s all caught in her video.

Yaga frowns, sparing a distrustful glance at the cameras. “More gifts?”

“Loosen up, old man.” Yuki sings, “Ladies first!”

“It’s not much,” Suguru feels compelled to warn, but she’s already unwrapping the travel thermos, scored with the words WORLD’S BEST MAD SCIENTIST across the center. “But I hope you like it. It’s, uh, for all those meals and drinks you miss chasing your research. So you remember to take care of yourself while you do all your important work.”

“Stop clutching your emotional support husband’s hand and give me a hug, Getou Suguru.” Satoru laughs and she winks at him, “I’ll give him back in a sec, don’t worry. I love my gift,” she says, her mouth in a wobbling smile that Suguru mirrors. “I love it. I love you, and I’m honored. Ah, you’re gonna make me cry. Man, don’t they grow up so fast?”

“We couldn’t have made it without help,” Suguru admits. “Speaking of. It’s your turn, my love.”

Wordlessly, Satoru passes his gift bag to Yaga who, just as silent if a bit more suspicious, opens it. Their teacher pauses and stares, holding the stuffed animal in his large hands.

“To make up for all of the ones I destroyed over the years,” Satoru explains. The confidence he’s projecting with his smile is undermined by the nervous hand running through his hair. Suguru pulls him closer in a show of support. “Dunno if you can still infuse your technique into it, but—”

“A teddy bear boxer?” Yaga interrupts. Suguru hopes he can see the resemblance; Satoru even gave the thing a matching hairdo. “You got this for me?”

“I made it myself. Well, technically, I ordered the boxing gloves, but the rest of it was all me, Sensei, scout’s honor. So don’t judge it for being a little misshapen—it has character! It was difficult and I did very much consider going to Build-A-Bear in the middle, but I persevered,” Satoru regales. Yaga’s eyes are shining, clearly touched by his efforts. And that’s before Satoru smiles, “It was a labor of love, you know, just like how you’re spending your life raising young shamans.”

“Thank you,” Yaga sniffs. He chuckles, not bothering to wipe under his eyes before dragging the newlyweds into his arms. “I’m happy for you bastards. Proud of you, too. Be well, Satoru and Suguru. You deserve each other.” Suddenly back to his usual gruff self, Yaga shoves the husbands free of his grip. “Now, act like you appreciate this party. Look around and mingle. Don’t just disappear.”

Satoru laughs, and though they know better than to make any promises, he says, “Sure thing, Sensei!” 

“We should bet on that.” Shoko announces, “Who wants in? I’ll abstain if I get ten percent of the winnings. I can track everyone’s bets.”

Surprising no one, a crowd quickly forms around her, Satoru and Suguru’s coworkers and students lining up with money in hand to bet on how long it’ll take the husbands to disappear from their reception. Yuki leads Yaga away to the refreshment table before he has an aneurysm and ruins the good mood, a knowing grin behind his back as she signals Shoko to add her to the books.

Suguru’s heart is a big swollen thing in his chest; he can’t stop smiling.

He looks out over the party, he and Satoru taking a quick lap around as the ceremony space is transformed into one more conducive to the reception. Tables for everyone to dine at, including a specially decorated one for the newlyweds and their children, are assembled quickly by the catering team; an open space for dancing to the playlist coming off a laptop a first year is attempting to connect to the strategically placed bluetooth speaker system. The husbands lend a hand here and there as everyone wraps up, smiling proudly at the finished product.

Adults are admiring the artisanal tea sets they prepared as favors to take home, tasting the candied flowers stuffed inside the teapots. The children have already gotten into their party favors—candy goodie bags Satoru might have gotten a touch overboard with, but the more the merrier, Suguru supposes. Tsumiki is spearheading the dispersal of the goods. She and the little girl Fumi are together, leading her Uncle Yu around with a smile while he drags Nanami behind him. Tsumiki’s younger siblings are otherwise occupied with the rest of their special guests, staying mostly out of the way as they play freeze tag.

“It annoys me that you’re so pretty but your fashion sense is so awful.”

Apparently serving as the safety base, Saori sighs, “Nobara-chan, please…”

Trying to catch her breath, Nanako laughs, “Aren’t you just mad that he keeps winning?”

The young girl stomps her foot petulantly. “He’s wearing light up sneakers with that suit!”

“Yeah! They look so cool,” Itadori grins. “I’m gonna ask Jiichan for some, too!”

“You’re right that it’s easier to run in shoes like Gumi’s, but I like your dress shoes more, Nobara-chan,” Mimiko compliments.

She looks away, pretending not to be pleased. “Saori-chan found them online. They were on sale.”

“Just say thanks and move on,” Megumi scowls. “She didn’t ask all of that. And you’re puppy guarding.” 

Nobara rolls her eyes. “You’re such a boy, Fushiguro-kun.”

Megumi cocks his head to the side. “Thanks?”

Satoru and Suguru laugh, leaving the kids to it. They’ll be good to each other, Suguru knows, and they’re all in good, safe hands. That allows Suguru to drag his lover along to a less busy area.

He turns to Satoru and forgets what he was about to say, comfortable just looking into his eyes. Satoru presses their foreheads together and teases, “Wanna get away for a bit?”

Suguru tilts his chin up, pressing their lips together. “Sometimes, I really do believe you’re a genius. We can get a good thirty minutes of alone time before someone hunts us down, I think.”

“Thirty whole minutes?” Satoru grins, his eyes twinkling. “Let’s go find out what that gets us.”

“Before that,” Utahime approaches them, holding out an intricately decorated envelope. “Congrats. I’m also throwing in a video of Shoko’s reaction to your ring exchange. I’ll edit it into her final video.”

Neither Satoru nor Suguru make any move to separate, as would be polite. “Because she caught you in 4K crying during our wedding?”

“The love you two share is so beautiful, but your personalities make me want to commit hate crimes,” she sneers. Utahime sighs to clear her head, becoming slightly more civil as she insistently holds out the envelope. “Here, take your wedding gift. I hate to give money to the rich, but this is traditional.”

“Thank you,” Suguru smiles, appreciative of the gesture but also hoping the faster he takes the envelope, the quicker she leaves. “You didn’t have to.”

Gift money for the happy newlyweds is a common wedding gift, especially since it’s not like Satoru and Suguru set up a registry. They weren’t expecting any gifts at all, honestly; their loved ones effectively gifted the husbands this wedding, so what more is there to ask for? 

“It’s the least I could give. Literally,” she admits. “It’s just barely enough to not be rude.”

“Aww, don’t worry, Utahime-chan!” Satoru pats her head, his hand shooting out and back too quickly to be avoided. “We know you love us.”

Utahime flexes her hands like she wants to reach out and wrap them around Satoru’s neck, but instead she turns on her heel and leaves them alone. Satoru’s melodic laughter rings out, and it makes Suguru’s chest so warm that he has to pull his husband into another kiss.

Satoru goes boneless in his hold. “Suguru. We’re doing alright, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, Satoru.” He matches his husband’s dopey grin. “We’re doing alright and then some.”

Suguru’s heart feels so full. Is he even allowed to be this happy? He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Actually—who cares? 

He doesn’t care what’s allowed or deserved, this is what he wants. Suguru wants Satoru and their children and their friends. This is his family, his forever and always. His reason for existing, the cause of all of his happiness. All of it. 

Suguru is grasping this life with both hands, and he’s never letting go.