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"No."
Izuku winced, a wry smile on his face as he leant back from the countertop, regarding Bakugo with a tilt of his head. "I haven't even asked you what I wanted to ask," he chuckled.
"I know what you're going to ask, dumbass," Bakugo rolled his eyes, staring down at his drink, swirling it in a scarred palm. "You couldn't have made it more obvious that you were itching to since the party started."
Izuku laughed, a hand over the back of his neck. "Was that why you were trying real hard to avoid me the whole time? Even resorting to talking to Shoto just so you didn't have to talk to me?"
"The hell I was," Bakugo snapped, though there was hardly any real bite to it as he took a swig and grunted, letting the alcohol warm his throat. "Icy-Hot's a fucking catastrophe at small talk, and even after he's had like ten shots in him."
The blonde angled his head towards the man with the two-toned hair, passed out on Izuku's couch next to a drooling Kaminari and an equally out-of-commission Kirishima. Across from them was a napping Ashido, snoring cutely while sprawled over the loveseat, head tilted against what Izuku presumed was the shoulder of Hagakure.
"Ask him," Bakugo said. "He'll say 'yes'."
"Shoto?" Izuku's brows raised. He'd considered it, of course. He'd considered a lot of people. "I wanted to ask you first."
"Forget it already," Bakugo growled. "Ask him. Or ask Four Eyes. Ask literally anyone else."
"Why?"
"You know why!"
Izuku hushed him, pointing to the other blonde whose arms were folded over the countertop, his head laid over them face-down, a wine glass forgotten (yet somehow remaining upright) in his hand.
Aoyama mumbled drunkenly in his sleep. "Mnn-- Félicitations pour vos... fian... mnzzz..."
Bakugo scowled, but said nothing else, and for a moment there was nothing but the faint noise of snoring friends.
"You know it's all in the past, right?" Izuku urged gently, smiling.
Bakugo stared at his empty glass. "Only because you're too damned soft for your own good," he said.
"You apologized," Izuku reminded him, of that day years ago, when Izuku needed the help of all his friends to see the light in the darkest storm of his life. "I don't hold it against you. I never did."
"And what'll Round Cheeks think?" Bakugo frowned, wincing, turning his attention down the hall to the room where Izuku and Ochako shared a bed.
"She knows I was going to ask you."
"She also call you a dumbass?"
"She supported it."
"Bullshit," Bakugo sneered, finally looking up at Izuku with a hard stare. "I told her what happened, you know-- the shit I said to you, back in Aldera."
"I know," Izuku said.
"She laid me the hell out for it," Bakugo added with a wince, rubbing at his cheek. He could still feel the bruise even after it had been forever since he confessed to the terrible things he said.
"I know," Izuku said, softer. "She told me."
"You think I didn't deserve it?"
"I think you don't need to keep trying to make up for it," Izuku said, his palm settling gently over the countertop. "You were a dumb teenager. It's all in the past."
"Things in the past can still fuck you up," Bakugo stared at his own scarred hand.
"Maybe," Izuku conceded. "But I healed. She knows I've healed too. We're better now, and so are you."
Bakugo clenched his fist. For a moment his jaw trembled, as though furious words were about to launch out of them the moment he opened his mouth, and then it left.
His hand slowly unclenched, tense fingers easing off little by little. He let out a sigh, leaning back.
"... Do I have to wear a tie?" the blonde asked, defeated.
"I just need you up there with me on the big day, Kacchan." Izuku let out the widest grin, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "But Ochako does insist that you at least try to wear a tie."
"Goddamnit, fine," Bakugo groaned, though he was grinning too, despite it all. "But I'm gonna set the entire reception on fire if I have to give a speech."