Chapter Text
If you asked Bakugou about the past few years, his answer would be one word: “Fucking amazing.” He traveled nonstop, had the best job in the world, and answered to no one. The only catch? If he told the truth, he’d have to kill you. The real downside? He couldn’t tell anyone. Work-life balance? A joke. The world didn’t know what he really did, so he had to lie—every damn day—about some ridiculous cover job. Like rolling blunts for Snoop Dogg.
The Parisian night air sliced into his face like a blade. He exhaled, slow and controlled. Finally, a free night. After another bullshit excuse, he’d wrangled the bachelor party to France—the site of his next job. He’d already missed the suit fitting and the goddamn cake tasting. No way he’d miss this. Not after twenty years of silence, not after they’d finally found their way back to each other.
-Why are you so messy, Deku? - Bakugou muttered, straightening the “future groom” sash that was crooked over Izuku’s chest. The nerd had insisted on wearing it.
Behind him, Ochaco Uraraka and Shoto Todoroki followed—Izuku’s friends from university. All of them wore those cheesy “I’m with the groom” ribbons, including him. Even Camie, the future groom’s sister, seemed to be in a slightly better mood tonight. Barely tolerating him, but tolerating him nonetheless.
-Before you go making any more dumbass decisions, nerd, you sure you want me as best man?- Bakugou kept his tone light, but his fingers twitched at his sides. Deku better not fucking doubt him. After everything he’d missed, after every moment he’d failed to show up—this was the one thing he needed to hear.
Izuku turned, those stupidly big green eyes locking onto his.
-Of course, Kacchan. No one else could take your place.
Bakugou’s jaw tightened, trying to avoid a smile. He needed to hear that. After years of absence, after every excuse, every lie—he needed to know Deku still trusted him.
-Tonight, I’m getting so many baguettes in my face I won’t remember my own name - Todoroki muttered from somewhere behind them.
Bakugou didn’t need to see his face to know that half-and-half mask was as unreadable as ever. Damn. The guy’s ability to keep a straight face like that? That was useful. If Todoroki weren’t so insufferable—and if he didn’t have that goddamn lack of filter—Bakugou might even consider bringing him onto the team.
-Just like old times!- Ochaco cackled, nudging Deku’s shoulder.
-And I assure you, I plan to drink as much as in our past parties - Todoroki added
Deku came to a sudden stop, practically vibrating with excitement.
-This bachelor party is gonna be the best one yet! - he declared. -Organized by my oldest and dearest friend—Kacchan!
The group erupted into cheers and laughter. It was impossible not to get swept up in the nerd’s energy. Even Camie clapped—actually clapped—without a trace of sarcasm.
Bakugou allowed himself a sliver of hope: For one night, nothing would go wrong. The world could stay exactly as it was. He could finally carve out a single evening for one of the few people he actually gave a damn about.
The venue was the perfect mix of classy and wild. A thick red velvet curtain framed the entrance, and strings of lights draped the walls like fallen stars.
-Thanks, Bakugo,- Camie said, flashing a blindingly bright smile. -For moving the bachelor party to Paris. And with only four days’ notice—just enough time to clear it with work.-
Of course. The act was already in motion. Asking him to behave for even a single night was too much to hope for.
-Knew you’d understand,- Bakugou replied, nailing the lightness in his voice to match hers, playing along.
-Oh, we do,- Camie continued, ticking off each point with infuriating calm. -Like how we understand you missed the engagement party. Or the brunch for the suit fitting. Or the war over the cake design…
Bakugou’s temple throbbed. Of course she wouldn’t let it go. The botoxed squirrel wasn’t about to waste the chance to rub every failure in his face.
—Kacchan, don’t worry. It’s fine!—
Deku’s words barely reached him. Camie, however, had decided this was the perfect moment to plant one of her manicured claws on his shoulder.
—Good thing I’m here to cover for you! Come on, I’m basically the maid of honor— she said, before yanking her claws away just as fast. She spun around to confront the bouncer who was denying Deku’s two cronies entry.
Great. Another problem.
Before Camie could make things worse, Bakugou stepped forward with a smile for the poor bastard who was just doing his job. He approached the guy, voice loud and clear.
—We have a reservation under Bakugo Katsuki. The best man— Bakugou said, firm but controlled.
With a quick, iron grip, he hauled the kid forward by his jacket, pressing him close enough to hear as he switched to French, low and lethal.
—You’ve got five seconds to let us in. Or I’ll use your tongue as a tie.
The second he let go, he spotted the next disaster: a ginger he recognized, dressed in the worst mime outfit imaginable—blue scarf, red beret, the whole pathetic display. While the rest of the group filed inside and Todoroki commented on the local breads, Bakugou stayed planted at the entrance.
—What the hell are you doing here, Red?— he snapped, teeth clenched.
—Things moved fast. The job isn’t tomorrow… it’s now— the ginger said, urgent.
Bakugou’s stomach dropped like he’d been sucker-punched. He couldn’t fail Deku. Not again.
—I can’t go now. I promised him.
—Your promise doesn’t matter. Lives are on the line.
—You always say that.
—And it’s always true.
—I can’t leave! Deku needs me. It’s his bachelor party.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bakugou saw the group already gathered around a table, five champagne glasses lined up on the wood.
—I need you gone in thirty seconds.—
Kirishima was one wrong move away from eating a boot to the face.
—Deku’ll notice if I bail… I can’t leave. What the hell am I supposed to do?— Bakugou’s voice cracked with frustration.
—Don’t worry, I set up a distraction— Kirishima grinned, that infuriatingly bright smile plastered all over his idiot face.
Bakugou already knew, just by looking at it, that this was going to be stupid as hell.
—What the fuck did you do…? —he started, but the words died in his throat the second a group of shirtless firefighters stormed in to the beat of One Night.
—Remind me to kill you after this— Bakugou hissed through his teeth.
He forced himself back to the group, praying they hadn’t noticed his absence. Deku, wearing that stupid curious grin of his, was already watching the strippers close in.
—Kacchan! —Deku called out.
One of the oil-slicked performers slithered over, hips rolling slow and deliberate, locking eyes with the nerd before purring:
—We got an emergency call. Someone here’s getting married tonight.
—Him— he said, jabbing a finger straight at Deku.
Bakugou had no choice. Kirishima’s plan was garbage, but he’d have to roll with it. His only move now was to distract Deku fast.
—Hold on. If they’re gonna shove that hose in your face, you’re dragging me into it too. We’re in this together.
Refusing the hand Deku held out wasn’t an option. All he could do was hope Kirishima had a damn plan B.
They were shoved onto two chairs on the stage, back-to-back.
—I can see you really put effort into this, Kacchan— Deku said, smiling. —I’m glad we’re doing things together again. It’s been too long.
Bakugou couldn’t see the nerd, but he could picture it—his view blocked by nothing but oiled-up pecs practically in his face.
—I know… and I’m sorry— Bakugou sighed, resigned.
Not just for every time he’d failed him, but for the fact that in minutes, he’d have to walk away again.
—It’s okay, I forgive you— Deku said, like it was nothing. Like it always was nothing. He looked up at Bakugou with those stupidly huge green eyes, like Bakugou was still the same kid who protected him when they were seven and lived in the same damn neighborhood. Deku had always been too good for his own damn good. And now Bakugou was the one taking advantage of it.
—You’re something else… but I’m already taken— Deku’s voice faded as two of the strippers hoisted Bakugou’s chair off the ground, slowly wheeling him out of the spotlight like part of the act. He had seconds to glance back: Deku was now center stage, flanked by firefighters on all sides, muscles glistening under the lights.
He told himself it was the betrayal that burned, not the fact that he was leaving him surrounded by half-naked men. But there was no time to dwell on it.He had a job to do.
He bolted for the observation deck, locking onto the exact spot he needed. A couple arguing over dinner prices barely registered as he passed.
—Where the hell have you been? —Aizawa’s voice was razor-sharp in his earpiece. —Focus.