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Las Vegas, Shoto remembers, was Midoriya’s idea. His own overseas obligations colliding with the novelty of the city of slot machines and late night offerings, it had been a wildfire idea in the group chat to have the reunion there.
The bar after their reunion dinner, shots at the bar in the Cosmopolitan, and spilling onto the street for yard-length margaritas - those were Kaminari’s ideas.
The long plastic, neon orange bottle of Shoto's own margarita is loose in his grip. Little more than a sip of alcohol left. ‘Yard Margs’ Kaminari had called them, Shoto thinks as he watches the small amount of liquid swirled at the base of the bottle. The phrase in English is stuck on repeat in Shoto's head and the tip of Shoto's tongue as he feels it out. 'Yard Margs' felt like a marble in the center of his tongue to make the vowel sound that way.
Maybe, it's also Kaminari's fault that Shoto is wasted, watching the water feature in front of the Bellagio with the other tourists, thinking about English vowels when he feels an arm sling around his waist.
"You with me there, Icy-Hot?" Bakugou's breath is hot on Shoto's right side. Even without his quirk lowering Shoto’s touch-temp to his skin, Shoto knows that Bakugou's breath is hot. It's warm, wet and no amount of experience can keep a shiver from running down Shoto's spine.
Shoto can smell that Bakugou is just as drunk. He'd told Sero and Kaminiari they were idiots for daring him to match them drink for drink. But his sweat is as floral from the plum wine sake as his breath.
If he wasn't drunk, why else would Bakugou's fingers be gripping the hem of Shoto's shirt, pulling it up and tucking his thumb beneath the hem so he can run fingers over Shoto's skin? Why would he be leaning into Shoto's body where everyone can see? He's lost his disguise, baseball cap and sunglasses that did little to obscure his identity when the World’s top heroes were in one spot. And anyone with eyes and a small amount of knowledge of the post-war Hero community would notice hero Shoto in a moment.
Somewhere nearby is the greater danger though; their graduating class has eyes and a number of heroes smart enough not to be drunk and perceptive enough to spot Bakugou tucking his nose up against Shoto's temple so his lips brush Shoto's skin as he speaks.
"Those losers are talking about going to bed," Bakugou tells him. His grin is sharp where he pressed his teeth to Shoto's skin. Shoto sighs in response, leaning into the heat of his companion, and the familiar sound of Bakugou amusing himself.
"You mean our friends?" Shoto asks, just to make Bakugou roll his eyes.
He doesn't get why Bakugou still pretends he doesn't have affection for their former classmates, but Shoto has … affection for the way Bakugou grins and rolls his eyes as if being reminded of his feelings is inconvenient.
From over Bakugou's shoulder, he can see the group separating, the larger group parting and waving but they're indistinct shapes in the backlight of Vegas' strip. They're swallowed into the crowd of tourists, showgirls, street vendors and people passing out flyers for strip shows.
Shoto looks at Bakugou in time to see him backlit by the lights of a passing car. LEDs bright enough to nearly give the man a halo. He's glowing and Shoto regrets not having the straw from his 'Yard Marg' pressed between his lips to keep something more embarrassing from passing between them.
Something like a whine claws its way out of his throat and passes through his parted lips. It should be too soft for Bakugou to hear. But he's suddenly searching Shoto's face and Shoto is expecting a devilish grin, or at least some pretence of annoyance. But the shape of Bakugou's eyes has gone soft.
"Light weight," Bakugou says gently. He's slipping the remnants of Shoto's drink from his hand. And then he's touching Shoto's cheek - brave and out in the open. They don't do this, and having it steals Shoto's breath away.
"Oi! No private parties," Kaminiari is yelling. Interrupting.
Shoto expects Bakugou to yank away from him. He's not the hot head of their youth of course, and their friends know that in their careers as Pros, Dynamight and Shoto, they spend a lot of time together. But this physical closeness? The way Bakugou's thumb was unexplainably close to Shoto's mouth. How Shoto had parted his lips, practiced, nearly instinctual.
This isn't something they do where other people can see.
But Bakugou doesn't act the way Shoto expects. His hand doesn't leave the warmth from Shoto's hip. He turns his head, slowly, dragging their skin gently against each other as he turns to look over Shoto's shoulder. His hand trails down Shoto's throat until he's got that dangerous thumb near the hollow of Shoto's throat.
He is afraid to swallow. Luckily, Bakugou's blocking Shoto's view of anything but Bakugou. His alcohol pink'd cheeks, the curve of his smirk as he looks at Kaminari. The red of his eyes as they crease in unexpressed affection.
"What do you want, Sparky?"
"The rest of us are going back to Momo's suite to play drinking games," Kaminari says. If the roll of Bakugou's eyes are anything for Shoto to read - and he thinks he's finally got some rudimentary skills in it - Kaminari had a lecherous look on his face. "You're invited, if you two aren't too 'responsible' and are going to bed with the nerds!"
"Who are you calling nerds?" Bakugou asks. Unknowingly, sealing their fate.
Shoto is too busy leaning into Bakugou, enjoying the smell of him so close, gasoline, glycerine, and the warm scent of a cologne he's started wearing since they've gotten famous enough as heroes for brand deals. Then there's the way Bakugou digs his fingers in, just the right side of painful, to remind Shoto he's there as he talks to Kaminari. He kind of hopes they bruise - a dangerous thought when he'd promised that he wouldn't -
"You in too, Todoroki?" Yaoyorozu asks. And oh, this is dangerous. Shoto hadn't tracked her showing up. When did he press his nose into Bakugou's hair? When did he close his eyes?
"He's in," Bakugou says.
"Don't speak for me," Shoto mutters back. Just because he likes the way Bakugou's chest rumbles when he laughs.
"Shut the fuck up, you're coming."
And what is Shoto to do?
With a last squeeze to Shoto's hip, Bakugou lets him go. And he's moving away, and it takes everything in Shoto to hold himself still and simply watch this man walk away.
He's got experience there too.
What started as a one time encounter - adrenaline throwing their bodies together into teeth scraping, bloody lips, and a quick climax in their hero costumes - has been dragging on for months. And Shoto knows he wasn't supposed to start craving the taste of Bakuogou's mouth. Wasn't supposed to enjoy Bakugou outside of the bed. Outside of the scent of petrichor on his sheets, and teeth biting him even as Bakugou laughs in pleasure -
But he has. Hearing Bakugou laugh at something Shoto has said, deadpan, and not intending to be funny. Misunderstanding the conversation became a source of potential joy. It was worth it to see Bakugou roll his eyes and call him an idiot because the smile on Bakugou's lips was all for him.
It's everything Shoto swore he wouldn't fall for when he fell into bed with his business partner. Best friend. It's too much to wreck if Bakugou ever caught on just how much Shoto -
"You coming, Icy hot?" And Bakugou is holding out a hand.
So Shoto follows.
To the hotel room where he drinks slowly as he watches Bakugou and Kirishima laugh together. Where Yaoyorozu watches him over shots with too assessing of a gaze. Where she and Shinso share a whisper. Where Uraraka gets an embarrassed heat to her cheeks even as she says, "You and Katsuki have gotten very close, haven't you?" ignoring when Bakugou hollers, "Who told you, you could use my first name, Bubble girl," in complete opposition to the big grin on his face. Mina is at her side, cheeks a deep magenta from the liquor and whispering, "I can't believe you just asked," and giggling.
Shoto doesn't know why Uraraka is holding his hand. Or when Midoriya arrived with a gleam of something calculating in his eyes. The carpet of the hotel floor is rough against Shoto's hands as he seeks something to hold onto. The room's not quite spinning, but Shoto is looking for Bakugou, looking for the warm crimson of his eyes and the way he grins, sharp and satisfied in return, to find foundation in the room.
Uraraka and Midoriya's eyes are soft with - Shoto thinks they look pitying. He's seen the look enough. But it doesn't hurt like it would've in their youth.
"They've been close for a while, right Shoto-kun?" Midoriya asks.
Shoto blinks, mouth dry. Wants to say, yeah, you know we work together. Almost says something about how Bakugou cooks for him sometimes. Uses the plates and chopsticks Shoto made themself.
How it tastes even better than when Bakugou would begrudgingly cook for them at school.
But thinking about that leads his lips to want to spill more, to talk about the spare tooth brush Bakugou keeps at his apartment, that they don't talk about. How Bakugou looks in the morning making omelet rice in one of Shoto's shirts. How it pulls across Bakugou's broader shoulders, stretched long enough for Shoto to track his shape even when Bakugou has left…
"Fuck!" Kaminari shouts, interrupting the rambling in Shoto's mind. Kaminari looks like he's lost another round of apateau with Sero and Monoma, but he downs two shots instead of the requisite one, so Shoto has to guess he's having fun.
"Todoroki-kun?"
Shoto blinks and oh, no. He's really drunk. He feels like he blinks and the world's not spinning precisely, but he's looking at Ida and he doesn’t know where he came from, was sure Ida had left with Tsuyu and the others responsible enough to turn in, but now he is staring back at Shoto in concern.
Something taps Shoto's shoulder. "Drink some water, idiot," Bakugou says. It's a water bottle. It wets Shoto's hand with condensation as he takes it from Bakugou with a soft, "Thank you."
"Boo!" A chorus from beyond Bakugou shouts.
"Piss off!" Bakugou shouts back. He's flipping their friends off but with a sincere grin on his face.
It takes Bakugou's more gentle if still stern, "Drink the water," before Shoto twits the lid off and gratefully finds something to do that isn't feeling his fingers tingle after brushing Bakugou's fingers.
"Let me know if you want to leave, man," Bakugou says. There's a gentle touch to the top of Shoto's head. Those fingers in his hair for a moment before Bakugou turns it into a less than half hearted noogie. Then Bakugou is turning away and it's -
"Wow, Baku-guy is wasted!" Mina stage whispers to Uraraka.
When Shoto can look at anyone else again, Midoriya has that dangerous twinkle in his eye as he watches Bakugou drop down beside Kirishima.
The real danger Shoto is too drunk to see coming is when Mina sneaks off with Toru. She comes back shaking one of the hotel room coffee cups in his face, "Take a slip, Todoroki," she says. He’s bewildered but takes a strip of ripped up napkin, and reads the number on it as she moves about the room.
Mina declares to the group, shouting down anyone trying to boo or decline, that they're playing the King Game, and "It'll be fun. Make memories, and strengthen our friendships, so don't be a wet blanket!" she says. She only stomps her foot once in emphasis, and only allows Shinso to wave her off. At first, Shoto thinks she's joking, just trying to stop Kaminari from forcing them into endless rounds of pin pon pan. But Kirishima is goaded into playing and Bakugou gets a middle finger for rolling his eyes.
Kirishima gets the King slip first and he turns more red than anyone else, stammering his way through a suggestion of an embarrassing dare for Ida and Yaoyorozu to do an imitation of All Might's 'Plus Ultra' cheer.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," he tries to reassure them, but Mina and Kaminari shout him down that they want to see them both go all out.
Despite the high pink on both of their cheeks that isn't from the alcohol, Yaoyorozu and Ida move through familiar bicep flexing poses, ending with a synchronous shout of "Plus Ultra," so sincere that it has some of their friends clapping.
Shoto watches the pink of his friends' cheeks turn red under attention, especially as Kaminari and Mina begin to cheer, calling for another round. Yaoyorozu goes to Mina, face half embarrassed half reproach, whispering that she doesn't want the front desk to call them and ask them to quiet down.
Ida sneaks over to their group, throwing himself down beside Midoriya with a heavy exhale.
"You were excellent, Tenya-kun," Midoriya says, stars in his eyes as he looks up at his friend.
Something in his look as Ida pushing his glasses up his face and saying, "Izuku - "
"You should totally do that for All Might!"
Uraraka snorts into her drink. Shoto feels a smile splitting his lips. It's a helpless thing, watching Midoriya try and turn his praise into something that can only be received as earnest as he tells Ida how much it might make their old teacher and Midoriya's mentor happy.
"I wouldn't - Surely that wouldn't be something worth his time," Ida is saying in return. But Midoriya has his hands clasped around Ida's and it's a losing battle.
Something about the corners pulling up around Ida's mouth though, the way he's smiling. It reminds Shoto of Natsuo when he's brought his girlfriend around to family dinners. A self-confidence, Shoto thinks.
Maybe, Ida is more drunk than Shoto noticed, he thinks, it would explain how he's leaning more and more into Midoriya, letting the latter carry on talking about the All Might cheer and how it evolved over All Might's career.
Then there's the arm Ida has slung over Midoriya's shoulder.
Shoto is lost in that way you can only be when drunk, eyes focused on something socially uncouth at any other time. Watching Ida give Midoriya's shoulder a squeeze. Watching pink begin to glow beneath Midoriya's freckles.
Something aching strikes Shoto in the his chest. He doesn't mean to press his hand there, to rub it. There's a wish caught behind his teeth as he watches his two friends sit so close, so casually affectionate. Simply as friends.
He thinks the pain tastes like yearning.
"Shoto-kun?"
Midoriya is watching him. Shoto doesn't know when the attention shifted. There's a look in Midoriya's eyes, the way he would get before whipping out his notebook. He's seeing too much and figuring something out that Shoto doesn't want to know himself.
He's saved from asking by Toru shaking a coffee cup in their faces, voice cheerful as she declares, "Time for the next round!"
What Shoto will remember in the morning won't be most of the dares, but laughing harder than he thinks he ever has.
The numbers of their group dwindle as their game spills back onto the strip. Shinso says, "This is where I dip out," before tucking his hands into his pockets and ambling away with Kirishima in companionable discussion.
Shoto watches them a moment, before returning to the real reason the group has emerged outside - to see Uraraka fulfill her dare. She politely asks two passersby to allow her to use her quirk. Explains it's just to make them float. The two American women, Shoto has to guess, their English fast and tinkling like bells as it lilts upward at the end. They're in glittering dresses, maybe on their way back from late night entertainment. They look matching in mermaid blues and greens, hair in intricate braids with shining beads of purples and blues. The beads click as Uraraka lifts them into the air. And they giggle as she poses between them, biceps flexed so it looks as if they're sitting on them. Fulfilling Mina's request to pose like a strongman from the American circus pictures. As if they women are held aloft by her strength alone.
When the women are released from posing with Uraraka for Mina's pictures, they press kisses to either side of Uraraka's cheeks, leaving red-red lip prints there.
Shoto is busy watching the women walk away, swaying into each other until they're walking with their hands clasped, fingers interlaced, dark skin glowing under a flush from joy and the strips' lights.
There are people calling his name. And Shoto knows they must have shuffled the numbered slips again. But he'll only remember the dare lodged his way. Turn the Bellagio fountain into an ice rink, if for a moment.
He tries not to disturb the whole late night group of tourists, concentrating on making each step a bridge of ice, until they're in the center of the circular fountain feature at the heart of the show.
Shoto freezes it easily and feels satisfaction at the exactness of his control that the rest of the fountain's show carries on around them, lights and bursts of water, as around him Ida and Midoriya hang onto each other and Mina and Uraraka slide like ice skaters on the ice.
Bakugou is moving in tight, backwards skating motions around Sero and Kaminari, the long long of his neck thrown back in a laugh at whatever they're saying. The neon lighting caught beneath the frozen water paints him in blues. Then there are whistles, and yelling in English, figures in black with flashlights trying to use the ice bridge to approach them, and Shoto finds himself slipping on the ice beside Midoriya and Kaminari.
"I can fix it," Shoto says, meaning he can return it to water, as Bakugou is grabbing him by the hand and pulling him along.
"That wouldn't be as fun!" Sero yells, using his tape to slingshot himself past them.
"Hold on," is the last warning Shoto gets before Bakugou slings him over his shoulder and jets after their classmates, on the run from casino security.
"I dare…" Midoriya, this round's King, is hesitating, stammering over the words. They're hiding out under the shadows of the piece of New York City planted along the strip from the out of breath casino security. "I dare Shoto-kun to tell Bakugou what he said in the hotel," Shoto thinks he says. But Midoriya is getting shouted down from the moment Shoto's name leaves his lips. And doubly shouted at for turning the dare into a truth.
For Shoto, the shouting feels far away as he feels under the beam of attention. He wracks his brain, wondering what he might have said. Surely, if Midoriya brought it up, then this is all his fault. Surely he kept every thought about Bakugou's cooking, and worse and more incriminating, how Bakugou tastes within his own alcohol addled brain?
Knuckles brush his, jerking Shoto out of the spiral.
Red eyes find his, and the fear is in Bakugou's eyes like Shoto worried it would be. But there's also concern there.
Shoto thinks about those tourists, their laced fingers.
He's wanted this before now. But when he brushes his fingers against Bakugou's in return. He mostly means it as an acknowledgement. A thank you, as his middle and ring finger brush the knuckles of Bakugou's own fingers. His hands are clammy, having not sparked enough of his quirk to dry them after the flight. Shoto doesn't mind, even thinks that he'll smell Bakugou on them -
Shoto looks up and finds Yaoyorozu watching him, her own lips pressed in a tight line. Not angry, but assessing. Still, it feels like a strike.
Her gaze moves and Shoto follows it to where Midoriya looks frustrated, cheeks red and he exchanges looks with Ida and Mina - a dangerous look - before he puffs his cheeks up in determination.
"I dare Kacchan to tell us about his crush!"
"That's still a dare to tell something," Kaminari complains. "That's so boring!"
"Who said I have a crush?" Bakugou is asking.
He hasn't moved far from Shoto's side. He's scowling in a way he hasn't in years. In a way Shoto would recognize as scared, if he was sober, but makes him purse his lips in return. Long held methods of self preservation rearing their heads in them both as Midoriya, red in the face, raises his hands in surrender and says, "I dare Kacchan to kiss Shoto-kun then!"
"What -?" Bakugou is asking, mouth slack. But he's interrupted by - "After what Todoroki did is going to be on the news, we're playing kid games?" Sero is complaining. He and Kaminari are squabbling with Midoriya that if he can't think up something more escalating, it should be someone else's turn. But Shoto feels struck and frozen by Midoriya's command.
Beside him, Bakugou is warm where their skin is barely a breath apart, and Shoto can smell the heated scent of glycerine. But Bakugou is so still, it's unnerving. Shoto only dares to watch Bakugou from his peripheral vision. He's wracking his brain about what he might have said to Midoriya, what he might have been asked to repeat. All the joy from moments before, and the warm feeling in his chest from having Bakugou's arm around his waist as they flew, has been doused by the cold water of being seen and seeing Bakugou slipping into closed fists and high walls.
He and Bakuguou never said that what they've been doing, fucking in secret, kissing with freshly brushed teeth on days off, sharing sips of drinks and making miso soup together in Bakugou's kitchen -
Well they've never declared it a secret.
But they've never said it was more than those moments.
"Izuku - " Bakugou is saying. Shoto is scared to see more than his profile when all he can hear in Bakugou's voice might be fear.
"Do you not want to kiss me?" Shoto asks. No one else hears him, too busy arguing about the validity of Midoriya's dare, but Shoto sees Bakugou's eyes widen.
"You could demand Bakugou fly to the top of the sphere!" Toru is suggesting.
"Too easy!"
"What would be so bad about kissing me?" Shoto asks. The words come out of him stern. Maybe it's being around so many of their UA friends again, the feelings from their teenage years so much closer to the surface than they've been in years. He feels himself slipping more into rivalry with Bakugou as his insecurity bites at him like vipers.
Bakugou gapes at him, mouth making a fish gesture until, too close for comfort and too smug, Monoma says, "Stun Gun and Red Riot kissed earlier when commanded to do so. Surely you can't be scared of a juvenile dare like this?"
His tone does everything to put down Kaminari and Kirishima even though until this moment, he's been wrapped up in the group as if there was never division on his end between the classes.
If Shoto wasn't drunk he might be more suspicious of the look in Monoma's eyes and remember how the hero has grown close with them. How much concern he felt for Bakugou during the war has turned into a genuine friendship. How he's been asking questions about Bakugou of Shoto, as if he expects Shoto to know the answer.
Right now his eyes glitter with the same animosity that lit a fire in Bakugou back in school, none of the previous care and concern.
"I thought you two were friends now, Kacchan."
Bakugou grits his teeth, "Don't call me that - "
"Aren't you friends?" Mina joins in, much more concerned than the Monoma is showing.
"Are we friends?" Shoto asks. He thinks that's what they are. They share Bakugou's bento at the agency sometimes. And they got drinks after work a few times before they started sleeping together.
Bakugou steps out of reach, but he's shouting a reply to Shoto at least. "We are!"
"Why are you protesting so much?"
"Why are you blushing?" Toru asks, her gloved hands clinging to Mina's shoulders.
"Why would it be so bad to kiss me?" Shoto asks. Shoto finally dares to look at Bakugou. He's red cheeked, lips parted but nothing passes his lips.
Bakugou is flustered. It floors Shoto.
"Would it be that bad?"
He doesn't mean to ask. But something like anger is kindling a fire in his aching, yearning chest and he can't believe that Bakugou might not even claim him as a friend in a child's game.
He knows better. Knows how Bakugou can be when he's cornered.
But Shoto suddenly feels like that unwanted kid, too much his father's for his mother's love. Too much of his mother for his father's approval.
"It's not that."
"Then why won't you?"
"Yeah, Baku-guy-"
"I like Todoroki just fine fuck! We're fucking friends! Why do you losers need more from me?"
The killing blow leaves Monoma's lips with feigned boredom, "If you like Todoroki so much, why don't you marry him?" And indicates the chapel over his shoulder. "Then we can put this to bed and get back to having fun."
But no one listens to the last bit he says. There's a roar of noise, and only some of it is their friends. Most of it is between Shoto's ears.
Yaoyorozu is speaking, but he can't hear it. He watches her and Midoriya trying to raise peace keeping gestures, while Kaminari and Sero laugh or cheer. They're smiling and someone is clapping Bakugou on the shoulder, dislodging him from staring at his feet.
Shoto doesn't know what it means that Yaoyorozu and Uraraka are speaking to Mina and the smile is wiping off her face. Or that Ida is acting all the part of class president again, pushing the glasses up his nose as he suggests that really, they've had enough fun, they should get some sleep.
But he does know that look in Monoma's eyes. Twinkling, daring.
"Unless you're scared?"
The roar is so loud in Shoto's ears as he waits for Bakugou to act.
But he's not looking.
"Fine," Shoto says. "Let's prove it."
He grabs Bakugou's hand and pulls him into the chapel.
A man in a t-shirt printed in the design of a tux straightens up at the front desk from his cellphone, mouth agape.
"Marriage for two," Shoto says, in English, unsure how to do this but hoping it will be as easy as that.
"We're not getting married just because those bastards dared us to," Bakugou splutters.
"You can't call our friends bastards, Bakugou," Shoto finds himself reprimanding. It earns him a look of bafflement.
"Is that your only issue?!"
"I have plenty," Shoto quips. They're in an American chapel. He never imagined himself in a western wedding ceremony - outside of fears he had as a kid about arranged marriages, he frankly never thought about being wed at all. In the morning he's going to have a raging hangover and reps calling from their Agency about his antics at the Bellagio - that responsibility is knocking against his skull despite the blood alcohol percentage keeping him moving.
Someone passes him a flask, and Shoto takes a shot, but staring Bakugou down, one thing he knows isn't an issue is Shoto won't be the one to back down.
In his heart of hearts, he's no more immune to the smug look Monoma gave them. And he can't imagine living with it in the morning.
"You started this," he tells Bakugou, meaning he kissed Shoto first. Left in the morning before Shoto woke up.
But the look in Bakugou is fierce. Says he disagrees.
"You'll have to sign this marriage license," the man at the desk replies, unaware of the tone in their voices.
Something hardens in Bakugou's eyes. As if to say, you're on. But this isn't a bet on who can race across Tokyo fastest.
Bakugou drops Shoto's hand to sign the papers.
The humor of them going into the Chapel is not enough to keep the rest of their friends there. After the humor of standing in the foyer, drunk and boisterous while Bakugou and Shoto take turns signing the license passes, so to do most of the group move on. Kaminari and Sero dared to do something stupid or dangerous and dragging the attention back out onto the strip.
That should have been enough to end this for Shoto and Bakugou as well. But the dare has become something else. A look of sharp heat between them, as they are shown to the nearly empty chapel, and told where to stand. They're standing hand in hand, but it's not the romantic gentle hand holding or even one of partnership. It's a strength competition. It's the shackles of neither being willing to back down.
Only Yaoyorozu, Mina and Ida are seated nearby, on Shoto's side of the small chapel, the chapel's operator had explained, stumbling over who was bride or groom but still. Something about that sticks in Shoto's head, and makes him feel strengthened in his resolve that this is Bakugou's idea and his alone to stop.
Uraraka is at Bakugou's side, having firmly placed herself there despite his protests. Midoriya has taken the spot at Shoto's. They're both holding bouquets of fake white blossoms; the same fake flowers are woven into the plastic arch above them and the man from the front desk wearing that horrible suit-t-shirt. The man had fiddled with a remote, taking them through a few lighting options, none more romantic than the rest. The music is something western and twinkly with a woman's voice drawing out long warbling notes.
"You don't have to do this, Todoroki-kun," Midoriya whispers, a final attempt to stop this. But with each vow he asks Bakugou and Shoto to repeat, their words tripping over the English, they hardly look away from each other, daring the other to look away first.
"I now pronounce you husbands," the chaplain says. "You may kiss - uh. You may kiss."
Shoto didn't notice he'd been clenching his jaw as this went on until after the pronouncement, and the look of determination drops from Bakugou's face. He looks like he's hit with where they are, what they've said.
His fingers are gentle when he reaches out to touch Shoto's cheek. Ink from the pen they'd shared to sign the license had stained Bakugou's fingers. Shoto wonders if it will smear across his cheek from where Bakugou is hesitantly touching his face before leaning in.
Shoto wants to stay still and firm against the kiss pressed to his lips. Wants to hang onto the minute anger that the alcohol brought on fire hot and ready to burn down a forest. But as fast as it had come on, the anger has blown away and it's the soft touch of lips to his own, that douses the flame.
When they part, Bakugou lets out a shaky breath, and Shoto feels something, for a moment, settle in him. They'll be fine. They can change the subject and still slip into each other's hotel rooms as planned. He can still have this -
He hangs onto that feeling even through the license being given to them, statements of when to expect the processing, and a gifting of commemorative shirts that matches the chaplain's until all too soon they're back out on the strip, hand in hand, with gift bags and cheap rings Bakugou had paid for by credit card on their fingers.
Shoto doesn't feel sober. But any buoying of the alcohol has been doused by the cold water of what they've done.
He doesn't know how they get back to their hotel. Doesn't know when they're friends left except that Uraraka keeps Bakugou at the door for a while, whispering something before he closes it gently, sealing them off in the quiet of the air conditioner screaming to run at 66 degrees fahrenheit. Shoto doesn't know how long he and Bakugou sit on one of the double beds in the hotel room - a randomly assigned, last minute booking with none of the amenities Shoto would usually require. He'd had only the time to toss his bag down before he'd been dragged out to dinner. The beds are still made.
Shoto lets the license lie on the bed between them. Their signatures, a symbol of what they've just done. Their signatures are stark against the xeroxed paper they wrote them on.
If he was worried about their Agency being mad before, Shoto thinks. They'd have preferred gossip articles about Shoto misusing his powers would be an easy situation in comparison to what they've landed themselves in.
"What did Uraraka want?"
"Nothing important," Bakugou says. He leans back on his hands, head tipped back in a long line. When he swallows, his Adam's apple bobs, and despite the frustration of the King Game and the anxiety of it, Shoto wants to follow it with his lips. He wants to taste the glycerine of Bakugou's sweat and the salty petrichor of his skin.
"Fuck," Shoto curses, dropping his aching head into his hands.
The curse lands in the quiet of the room between them.
Then Bakugou laughs. A shout of a sound as if surprised out of him. And then, longer, more of a giggle that becomes infectious.
Shoto laughs and he meets Bakugou's red red eyes and that starts them both off on heavier, harder giggling. What the fuck have they done, seems to pass between them as thought and it just makes them laugh more.
It takes a while for the laughing to die down. Shoto's chest hurts, and his chest is tight from struggling to catch a breath. Beside him, Bakugou is barely better. He's lying on his side, curled around his guts as the laughter finally dies down and a half-grin, half-grimace marrs his face. His deep red eyes are wet with tears of laughter.
It strikes Shoto, as he looks at Bakugou, how much they have grown. Bakugou would have bit his head off rather than laugh with him at this time.
"What the hell did we just do?"
Shoto shrugs. He wants to ask, again, why Bakugou was so unwilling to kiss him.
But with his hair spread on the sheets, bright blond, and mussed from his hands being dragged through it in frustration and laughter during the night's events.
Shoto reaches out, and gently cups Bakugou's cheek, fingers brushing the hair at Bakugou's temple. It's soft. The skin beneath is a little damp from sweat. From the bed, Bakugou looks at him, pupils blowing with obvious arousal as he looks up into Shoto's eyes.
"What did you say to Izuku?" Bakugou asks, surprising Shoto.
"I - honestly I have no idea. I was so drunk."
Bakugou doesn't push. He lifts a hand to wrap his fingers around Shoto's wrist, holding his hand close so he can keep Shoto's touch on his skin. "It's okay, that damn nerd is too observant, anyway."
"Bakugou-"
"You can call me 'Katsuki' - if you want. You know I'm. Since I'm your husband or whatever," Bakugou says. He runs his thumb along the lines of the tendons in Shoto's wrist., and the touch, shakily given, is solid once it's on Shoto's skin. Suddenly the word 'husband' is more than a King Game command, or more than a game of chicken gone too far between them. The age-old competition between them seems to slip away and this is the Katsuki that Shoto has come to know in the quiet, stolen moments.
"Then, will you call me 'Shoto?'"
Bakugou flushes red. It's a pretty color.
He tugs at Shoto until they're lying face to face on the bed. Bakugou reaches out, his free hand brushing the hollow of Shoto's throat. He knows about how sensitive Shoto's skin is there, where the two sides of his powers connect and make him tender. The touch makes Shoto shiver.
"I should've kissed you," Bakugou says. "Shoto."
"Kiss me now?" Kiss me again, he thinks.
Bakugou's lips are dry, and they drag across Shoto's own with none of the gentle shyness of their kiss at the altar. His mouth is empty, and he parts it to encourage Shoto to fill it with his tongue. Bakugou's hand is heavy, pressing but non-threatening on his throat as Bakugou rolls Shoto on his back, and slips between Shoto's parted thighs.
Shoto's fingers curl in the hair at the nape of Bakugou's hair, pulling him in and wishing he could crawl into Bakugou's mouth. Wishing Bakugou's blanketing body could bury him in this bed. If they could stay in this moment forever, warm spit passed between them between panted breathes, maybe there will be no consequences if the morning never comes.
"Katsuki," Shoto whines. The weight of Bakugou's thighs between his legs is enough to make pleasure tingle down his spine.
Shoto hardly knows he's started crying until he feels the pads of Bakugou's thumbs brushing the tears from his lashes.
Bakugou slips one thumb between his lips, sucking Shoto's tears from there.
They've rolled onto their marriage license, wrinkling and folding it beneath them as they struggle out of their clothes.
"Shoto," Bakugou presses the name into Shoto's throat. Nipping at the sensitive skin there and making Shoto whine again. "Shoto, Shoto," Bakugou repeats like a hymnal.
"Katsuki," Shoto whispers in return. But his mind, treacherously thinks, husband as Bakugou parts the buttons of Shoto's formal dress shirt to allow him access to more of Shoto's skin. The pleasure makes Shoto's eyes water more, tears running heavier as he clutches Bakugou closer, one hand on the back of Bakugou's neck and the other clutching, combed deep into Bakugou's hair.
Bakugou's fingers are as warm on his skin, on Shoto's hips as he is freed from his trousers and they can wrap around the bare skin there. They've done this so backwards, Shoto thinks, as Bakugou presses wet kisses, his own eyes wet and leaking as he presses the words, "I never don't want to kiss you, idiot," and even Shoto knows that's as good as a declaration of love from Bakugou.
"Well you're the idiot that married me, Katsuki," Shoto quips, crying and laughing at the same time. Those fingers grip his hips tighter, pinching Shoto because Bakugou knows it will make him laugh harder. Shoto does, digging his nails into Bakugou's scalp in retaliation. "You can kiss me forever."