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The street was quiet for a Friday night; just the low buzz of traffic and the occasional shout from a bar a few blocks over. Bakugo walked beside Kaminari, hands shoved deep in his pockets, scowl carved deep across his face like he was trying to intimidate the sidewalk into cracking.
Kaminari, to his credit, didn’t say anything. At least, not right away.
They were supposed to grab food after patrol, something low-effort. Bakugo had barely touched his ramen.
“So…” Kaminari ventured finally, twirling his chopsticks, “you okay, man?”
“I’m fine,” Bakugo grunted.
“Right...totally. You’ve only said three words since we left HQ and one of them was ‘tch.’”
Bakugo didn’t answer. He stared ahead, jaw tight. Something in his chest had been wound too tight all week, an itch he couldn’t scratch. He hadn’t seen Kirishima in… what, nine days? Not that he was counting. The guy had been busy. Agency crossover mission or something. Then suddenly, radio silence. Not even a meme.
Kaminari slurped the last of his noodles and dropped his chopsticks. “Well, I mean. I get it. Kiri’s been MIA. He’s been running around like crazy getting ready for the wedding.”
Bakugo froze. “...What wedding?”
Kaminari blinked. “You know. The one with Tetsu-”
Bakugo’s whole body turned to stone.
Kaminari kept talking, totally oblivious. “-like, the venue’s a pain and Kendo’s mom is apparently terrifying? Kiri said he was helping out with stuff all week, fittings and-”
“He’s getting married? Who the fuck is Tetsu?” Bakugo barked.
Kaminari blinked. “What? No, dude-”
“Are you serious?!”
“No...wait...Bakugo...”
“When?!” Bakugo demanded. “Where?!”
“He’s not the groom!” Kaminari shouted, trying to wave his arms like it would physically block the misunderstanding from getting worse.
But Bakugo was already pulling out his phone, scowling at the screen like it had personally betrayed him. “Give me the address. The venue. Something.”
Bakugo's face had gone pale and rigid. But there was something wild in his eyes now; panic, or fury, or something stuck between the two.
“Bakugo...seriously...it’s not what you think-”
“Just tell me where the hell it is.”
Kaminari looked at him for a beat, then muttered the name of the venue like a man accepting his fate. “Kirishima’s gonna kill me.”
Bakugo was already halfway down the block.
---------------------------------------------------
The next morning hit like a punch to the gut.
Bakugo barely slept. Not because he didn’t try, he spent hours tossing, glaring at the ceiling like it owed him answers, but because every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Kirishima.
At some point around 3 a.m., he gave in and pulled out his phone. Opened Kirishima’s socials like a man scrolling toward his own execution. There they were; so many photos, clearly from some kind of pre-wedding event. Kirishima was front and center in a tux, red hair tied back, champagne in hand. He looked like he belonged there. Looked good.
And right next to him, grinning like an idiot with his arm slung around Kirishima’s shoulder, was some silver-haired bastard with a square jaw and a steel smile.
Bakugo squinted. Then zoomed in. Wait...That was Tetsu?
Metal Head.
Tin Can.
That loud, unbreakable extra from U.A. who thought yelling louder was the same thing as fighting harder. That guy?
Bakugo stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.
Tuxes. Arms around each other. Matching champagne flutes.
He nearly crushed his phone in his hand.
Tin Can, Bakugo thought bitterly. Fucking Tin Can.
He imagined him grinning all dumb and shiny next to Kirishima, probably still calling him “bro” even while exchanging vows. And Kirishima; god, Kirishima would smile back like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it wasn’t supposed to be Bakugo standing next to him in that tux.
He tried not to picture it. Tried not to think about how good Kirishima looked in a tux. Tried not to think about how he would’ve looked standing beside him, better than that guy, at least. Way better.
They were best friends. Partners. Practically lived in each other’s pockets for the last five years. He had to know if something changed. If Kirishima had fallen in love with someone else. If he had missed the chance to say something.
The thought made his stomach twist so hard he nearly dry-heaved.
He didn’t have a suit picked out, why the hell would he? So he yanked something halfway formal from the back of his closet: black button-down and dark slacks. He stood in front of the mirror, wrestling with the buttons on his nicest shirt like they were personally responsible for ruining his life. His hair was sticking up in three different directions. His heartbeat was so loud it felt like an alarm going off in his throat. “This is fucking stupid,” he muttered, shoving his arms through a blazer sleeve. And after fifteen minutes of glaring at a wrinkled tie like it had personally offended him, he tied the damn thing anyway.
Still checked the location twice.
Still stood outside the venue like he was preparing to detonate it with his feelings alone.
He didn’t have a plan. Not really. He’d storm in, demand answers, maybe yell a little. Try to figure out why the hell Kirishima never said anything. Try to stop him, if there was still time.
Maybe confess, it was worth a shot right?
Dumbass, he thought bitterly. Why’d you wait this long?
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, jaw set tight, and started walking toward the front doors.
If he was going down, he was going down swinging.
The air inside was humming with soft music and low voices, but it barely registered.
His palms were sweating. His tie felt like a noose. And his heart was racing like it had something to prove.
He didn't stop to think. Didn't stop at all.
He marched straight down the aisle, ignoring the stunned whispers, the gasps, the sharp “What the-?!” from someone in the third row. All he saw was Kirishima, standing at the front. In a tux. Beside Tetsutetsu. No vows spoken yet, just the lull before the ceremony kicked off.
Bakugo’s voice ripped through the room like a grenade going off.
“I knew that tin can was in love with you! But seriously? You’re gonna marry him? What the hell happened to us, huh? Just gonna throw all that away?”
Gasps. Dead silence.
Bakugo kept going, eyes locked on Kirishima, jaw tight.
“Fine then. If you’re gonna say yes to him, then at least hear it from me first...”
He sucked in a breath, chest rising with it.
“Marry me instead, dumbass!”
The silence stretched long enough for Bakugo to hear his own pulse pounding in his ears.
And then...
“What the fuck,” Tetsutetsu muttered under his breath.
Kirishima looked like he’d been hit by a truck.
“Wait...wait, wait!” he yelped, scrambling down from the altar in record time. “Bakugo, no! It’s not what you think!” Kirishima hissed, grabbing his arm and trying to physically drag him to the side. “Tetsu’s getting married. To Kendo. I’m the best man, you absolute maniac.”
Bakugo looked from Kirishima to Tetsutetsu, who was shaking his head with the air of someone wondering how this became his problem.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bakugo muttered. “I wore a tie for this.”
“Sit down!” Kirishima whisper-shouted, red in the face. “Don’t ruin their day!”
There was a loud snort from someone in the back. Probably Denki.
Bakugo hesitated, then slowly slunk toward the nearest pew, muttering curses the whole way down. Kirishima followed, shoving him into a seat with a final glare before jogging back up to the altar.
And not five seconds later, the music started. Kendo stepped out. The real bride.
Bakugo slouched in his seat, tie crooked, pride in tatters, heart still pounding.
Kirishima hadn’t said no...he also hadn’t said yes, but he hadn’t said no.
The ceremony somehow managed to recover.
Tetsutetsu said his vows without throwing Bakugo through a wall (a miracle), Kendo laughed her way down the aisle, and no one mentioned the outburst beyond a few raised brows and Denki openly trying to high-five him during a group photo.
Now, the reception was in full swing. It was loud, messy, and buzzing with energy, everything a wedding party should be. But Bakugo wasn’t exactly in a celebrating mood.
He hovered awkwardly near the back wall, fiddling with a glass but not drinking, eyes scanning the crowd like a bomb might go off. Or like he already had been the bomb, and was waiting for the fallout.
Then Kirishima looped an arm around his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Come with me,” Kirishima said, voice low but firm, dragging him out the side door before Bakugo could protest.
The night air hit sharp and cool. They stepped out into a quiet patch behind the venue, string lights glowing faintly above them.
Bakugo crossed his arms, already bristling. “What? You gonna yell at me now? 'Cause I meant it, alright?”
Kirishima blinked at him, still breathless from hauling him outside. “Wait… did you wear a tie for me?”
Bakugo scowled, tugging at it like it might strangle him. “Shut up.”
“No, seriously. You hate ties. That’s like… romantic, man.”
“I thought you were marrying the tin can. Forgive me for wanting to look better than recycled scrap metal.”
Kirishima burst out laughing, loud and warm. “You jealous idiot.”
Bakugo shrugged, still fidgeting with the knot. “You weren’t answering my texts. You were off with him every day. And then I hear ‘Kirishima, wedding, tuxedo, altar’ ... what the hell else was I supposed to think?”
“You could’ve waited five seconds and let Denki finish a sentence,” Kirishima teased, but the smile was soft now, fond. “But… I get it.”
They stood there for a moment, the noise of the reception muffled behind the door.
Then Bakugo, quieter now: “So… if I asked again, properly this time…”
Kirishima tilted his head. “Without interrupting someone else’s vows?”
Bakugo huffed. “Yeah. Without yelling and without crashing a wedding.”
Kirishima stepped closer, eyes warm. “Then yeah,” he said. “Ask me again.”
Bakugo swallowed. His hands clenched at his sides, like he didn’t quite know what to do with them.
Then, gruff but sure: “Marry me, dumbass.”
Kirishima smiled like the sun breaking over a horizon. “Yeah,” he said, laughing a little. “Okay.”
He reached for Bakugo’s hand, grounding them both.
“I meant it, you know,” Bakugo muttered.
Kirishima smiled. “Then shut up and kiss me already.”
And he did.