Chapter Text
Sometimes, Izuku hated being so observant. It was hard to see the things that could be fixed but not have the power to fix them. The permission to fix them. He hated staring at a problem, completely unsure of what to do to solve it. He could see the problems everywhere he looked, and he hated it when the solutions were out of his reach.
Which brought him to his current dilemma.
There was something wrong with Kacchan. He could see it from miles away—it was in the slump of his shoulders, just a touch more concave than normal. It was in the blank stare on his face, rather than his resting scowl.
He started putting on ties, even if they weren't tied properly.
He didn't yell when Denki accidentally short circuited and shorted out the power outlet.
His reaction times in class were slower. Not by a lot, but enough to get clipped by a flying piece of rubble that he'd definitely had time to dodge.
There was something wrong. And Kacchan was hiding it, just enough that nobody except him noticed it. At least not yet. And it was so frustrating, because Izuku could see it clear as day. Kacchan was in his head about something. He seemed really upset, and Izuku wanted to check on him, but...
But their relationship was still shaky. It was better! It was so much better. Kacchan had apologized, they trained together all the time, they were really rebuilding. It was noticeable, and exhilarating, and it made Izuku want to weep with joy. But they were still fragile. So fragile.
So, as much as Izuku wanted to reach out, just to see if he was okay, he didn't know if it would be received well. They may be on better terms, but there was still that distance between them—yawning like a cavern. Like a ravine. Vast and deep, despite not truly being that far. The bridge wasn't done being built.
He didn't want to ruin the fragile progress they'd made by making the same mistake that had destroyed them before. Katsuki didn't like being vulnerable. He didn't like feeling weak. He didn't like being helped.
Especially if that help came from Izuku.
So, he waited and watched, eyes tracking the blonde from afar as he seemed to drift—exhibiting a strange lack of focus. A listlessness. He waited for someone to notice, but nobody seemed to take it seriously. He watched as Mina joked that he seemed chill and as Kyoka teased that for once, she didn't need ear plugs.
He observed as Denki joked that the anger management must be working, narrowly dodging a half-hearted punch to the shoulder.
He waited for Eijirou to say something—anything. Usually, he was the most observant where Kacchan was concerned. Aside from him, at least.
But nothing. Eijirou barely seemed to notice, aside from laughing along when he was teased. He didn't understand how people couldn't see it. How...disconnected he'd become. Restrained in a way that made him seem hollow. And nobody could see it. Nobody noticed.
It was driving him crazy, and even though he knew he should stay out of it...something was wrong with Kacchan, and that meant nothing was really right. He couldn't let that slide. He had to say something. He had to.
"Kacchan?"
The blonde was sitting alone in the corner of the common room, so quiet that nobody had even noticed that he was still there when they went to bed. They'd even turned the lights off, except for the lights in the kitchen where Izuku had been making his lunches for the week.
Izuku had clocked him the second he walked in the room—sitting in silence, staring at the wall. Burning eyes slid toward him, pinning him in place.
"Deku."
"Are...you okay?"
Katsuki made a little noise, something that Izuku was supposed to take as a confirmation of sorts. A reassurance. But it wasn't reassuring at all—too faint and distracted, completely unlike Kacchan's laser focus and brash persona.
"You know...you can talk to me," he said. Hesitantly, he lowered himself into the chair across from him, acutely aware of how the blonde was tracking his movements. He shifted as Katsuki stared holes through him, as his brows furrowed, as his hands clenched.
"What the fuck for?" Katsuki sighed, head tipping back.
Izuku's lips pursed, unimpressed. "I know you too well for that, Kacchan," Izuku scolded him. Kacchan didn't look at him, meticulously avoiding his gaze. "Something's been bothering you. And if you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine. But...I'm here for you."
"Always have been," Katsuki muttered. It sounded bitter. Disgusted. It picked around the edges of a barely-formed scab, and it stung.
"Sorry," he said, standing. "I know I can be kinda invasive—"
"No, that's not—fuck!" Katsuki swore, scrubbing a hand over his face. "That's not what I meant, nerd. You don't have to go." Hesitant, he sat back down. He'd never seen Katsuki look so frustrated. He'd obviously been frustrated before—peeved, even—but this was different. It gave him chills. He looked defeated.
He couldn't help running his big fat mouth, eager to fill the silence. "You've been quiet," he observed. "You're...holding yourself back, I think. I don't know from what though, because you're doing it all the time. I know I said you don't have to talk about it, but it...feels like you're removing yourself from your own life. I can't lie to you, Kacchan, it's freaking me out."
Katsuki stared holes through him, and he squirmed—worrying that he'd overstepped. That he'd said too much and Katsuki would shut down on him again. Push him away.
"I don't...get why you're still here," Katsuki said slowly, as though the words themselves confused him.
"You...told me to stay?" Izuku said, confused.
"No, I mean," he rubbed a hand over his face, and he suddenly looked exhausted. On top of the listlessness and quiet, it made Izuku's gut churn with concern. "I should have driven you away. I tried to. I tried for fucking years. And you're still here, and I don't fucking get it."
"Do you...not want me to be?" he asked, feeling a little sick at the thought of it.
"Don't be stupid," he huffed. "No. I'm...fuck, I'm glad we're kinda okay now. I just don't understand you. We should be fucked up beyond repair."
Izuku chewed that over, feeling a little lost. "I guess...I don't understand what that has to do with you being all distant and quiet," he admitted. "If you're happy with how things turned out, why do you constantly look so..."
He paused. It wasn't that Katsuki looked sad. He just felt...gone. Like he was scrubbing himself away bit by bit, until the things that made him so unique were all but gone.
"I don't wanna make the same mistakes," he said quietly. Izuku watched in horror as Katsuki seemed to cave into himself. "I don't know how the fuck you didn't give up on me, and nobody's quite as crazy as you are. I like these fuckers. I don't wanna fuck it up and drive them away."
Izuku's heart crumpled in his chest. "Kacchan—"
"I thought maybe...maybe if I fall in line—if I'm less of a complete jackass...I won't make the same mistake again. We might be alright now, but we're not the way we were before I fucked us up, you know? You're still nervous around me all the goddamn time, and it feels like if I step too hard, the ground will crumble or some shit. We didn't used to be like that. We used to be solid and I fucked it up. I don't...I don't wanna fuck it up with anyone else."
He was crying—unsurprising, but he wasn't sure when it had started. "Kacchan, that's...god, I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say shit," he mumbled. "You asked, I answered. Ain't gotta do more than that."
"Yes, I do!" he cried. "Kacchan, we're not...we're fine! We're not perfect but we're improving, right? You didn't ruin anything! We didn't understand each other and we still don't, but we're learning, right? At least, I thought we were."
"We are. I just...god, I know I'm a dick. My instinct is to be a dick."
"Stop," he said, even though he was the one who had wanted them to talk. "Kacchan, you're...you're perfect the way you are. You don't have to change for people to like you, we all like you because of who you are."
"Who I am? Deku be fucking for real—"
"Kacchan, the reason we fell apart was because you started acting out of character!" he snapped. Katsuki fell silent, frowning at him. "Our problems started when you stopped acting like yourself. You've always been brash and bold—that was never the problem. Our problem was that when the expectations got too high for you, you didn't reach out to people who loved you. And when you were scared for me, you tried to push me down. That wasn't like you at all. You've always believed that people should strive to be their best—so I never understood why you didn't want that for me. That's what hurt our friendship. You weren't honest with either of us."
Katsuki just stared at him, and Izuku remembered himself all at once. His gut twisted with anxiety—wondering if that had been too much truth for one sitting.
"You're doing it again," Katsuki commented, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Your entire fucking body is turning away from me as though you're afraid I'm gonna throw the first punch." He sounded like he wanted to cry, and Izuku felt himself unraveling at the seams about it.
"I don't know where we stand," he admitted. "I'm not afraid of you, but there's that lingering...I don't know what. Where I don't know what to say or do around you, because we're still healing. That doesn't mean you're not important to me, though, Kacchan. It means you're too important to me to lose, and I'm nervous about misstepping."
"That's my point," he said. He slumped back, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. His jaw clenched, and Izuku figured he couldn't keep eye contact without feeling too raw. He understood that. Viscerally. "I'm the reason you don't feel confident just...existing near me. That sucks. I don't want anyone else to feel like that."
"They don't," he insisted. "Kacchan, they don't. And I'm learning you all over again, I'll get there. You don't need to make yourself small to keep the people who are important to you."
He could see Kacchan bracing himself—taking a deep breath before picking his head back up again to look Izuku in the eye. His jaw was tight, holding himself in. Izuku wished he'd let go.
"I want you to be comfortable with me," he admitted softly. "Maybe I don't deserve it—"
"You do," Izuku said, lip trembling and heart aching. "And we'll get there. I swear."
Izuku was...so blessed. It had been hitting him more often lately, how intensely grateful he was for everything he had in his life.
Especially Katsuki. After everything they'd been though, he was so grateful that the blonde was not only in his life, but his closest person. The person who he leaned on, and who leaned on him in return—both literally and figuratively. Like now, where one of Kacchan's arms was draped heavy across his shoulders as they waited in line to buy movie tickets.
Two years. It had been two years since that conversation in the common room—and it felt like they'd both bloomed. Katsuki felt more like himself, and Izuku felt more comfortable in his presence, and they'd grown together so wonderfully that Izuku couldn't imagine living without him.
Izuku really knew him again. He could predict which way he'd move from a twitch in his eyebrow, or predict his next attack in battle from a roll of his shoulders. He knew what the blonde was thinking just by looking at him most of the time. It felt good to be on the same page as him—almost perfectly in sync.
"You wanna go grab seats while I get snacks and shit?" Katsuki asked, leaning against him. If Izuku were any smaller, he would have toppled over by now. The extra hours put into lower body strength had paid off, though. He was hard to knock down.
"Sure," he replied. "As long as you promise not to be a butthead if I choose seats you don't like."
He felt Katsuki pull a face without even looking at him. "Nah. I'll get the seats, you get the snacks." One of their few points of contention was theater seat choice—Izuku preferring a central location while Katsuki tended to choose the middle back. The only difference was that Izuku wasn't picky.
Katsuki was.
"Sure, Kacchan," he said, docile and indulgent. "You wanna share a large popcorn or should I get two mediums?"
"Who the fuck cares, we can just get refills," he huffed. He stepped away, pausing to ruffle Izuku's hair. "Hurry the fuck up, though."
Izuku ducked away from his hand, unable to help the smile even as he feigned irritation. "I'm the one who wanted to see this movie, Kacchan," he huffed.
"And you're slow as shit," he said, walking backwards just so he could keep shooting Izuku a shit-eating grin. He loved it when Katuski smiled at him. After so much turmoil, it felt like a gift.
"Um, excuse me?" a soft voice piped up beside him. He jumped, finally tuning back into his surroundings. There was a girl next to him—phone clutched in her hand and shifting on her feet. "I'm so sorry to bother you—but you're Deku, right?"
He smiled at her. "I am!"
Her nerves seemed to skyrocket at that—hands shaking a little. "I, um...I was wondering if I could get a selfie with you? You're...you're my favorite debuting hero," she said, blushing to the roots of her hair. "Dynamight, too, but uh...by the time I worked up the nerve to talk to you, he was gone."
"I'd be happy to!" he replied, passively noting that this was probably the reason that Kacchan had told him to hurry up. He was known for being overindulgent with fans, offering them full conversations when he barely had time for a high-five. "And I'll let him know you were thinking of him. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."
She beamed. "I'm sorry again for intruding," she said, fumbling with her phone to turn on the camera. "Especially since you and Dynamight are clearly looking for alone time, right?"
"Just a break from the dorms," he assured her, bending to fit in the frame as she held her phone aloft. He grinned, flashing a peace sign as she clicked away—taking multiples so that she'd have options to choose from. He didn't mind. Katsuki was probably gonna slap him for taking so long, though.
"I wish I'd gotten a picture with both of you," she admitted. "You look really close, by the way. You two are good together."
He smiled self-deprecatingly. "I've known him for as long as I've known myself, I think. But we're not together, not officially anyway. I haven't asked him. And hero partnership takes a lot of work in the approvals process. I'm not sure if I'll be able to convince him to go through all that."
She gaped at him, eyes wide and face paling. "Oh! Um..." She let out a nervous laugh, and Izuku was tempted to ask if she was okay. "I just figured because...because you're always working together! Right! I figured you were already partners—my mistake!"
She seemed so flustered for such a simple misunderstanding—so he reached out and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's alright! We do partner a lot. I mean, I'm definitely hoping that we'll be hero partners. I'm glad other people feel the same way."
"Right," she squeaked, giving him a tight smile. "Anyway, thanks so much for the picture! I have to go, my movie is starting—" She was already backing away, and Izuku was staring at her, perplexed by the change in her demeanor—from bashful to manic in the space of a minute. "Bye!"
She fled and he tilted his head, staring after her retreating form.
Well, that was weird.
If he'd thought he was blessed before, it had nothing on how he'd felt every day for the last five years. It felt like ever since he and Kacchan had finally figured it out—finally started dating, finally became partners in every sense of the word—everything in his life had been on a steady incline, getting better and better with every day.
In that time, they'd graduated from UA and five of the top ten hero spots had been dominated by his graduating class. He and Kacchan were sitting pretty at ranks three and four. He and Kacchan were also living together in a spacious condo on the outskirts of the city—close enough to be called in an emergency and see the city lights at night, but far enough that the likelihood of their home being smashed to pieces in a villain attack was low.
It was closer to their parents too, and that was nice since they had family dinner every weekend.
Everywhere he looked, he could find love, happiness, and success in his life, and every time he thought about it, it brought him to tears.
"I just...don't know what to get them," Ochako sighed. She was curled onto their sofa, a glass of wine clutched in her hand. Izuku had set his down a while ago—too teary to not trust himself to choke on it as he sobbed. "Everything on their registry that Denki didn't put in there as a joke is already bought!"
Because Mina and Eijirou were getting married in less than a month, and he was so happy for them that he couldn't seem to stop crying. Every time he looked at them, he could hear wedding bells and imagined Mina in a wedding dress while Eijirou smiled his sharky, besotted smile, and it made him crumble.
"They—" he sniffled. "They have a honeyfund, too. For their honeymoon," he sobbed. Ochako patted him on the back, passing him a tissue.
"God, if you're this emotional for Mina and Eijirou, I don't even want to know how you're going to be at your own wedding," she chuckled. "Honestly, I'm surprised you two didn't tie the knot first."
"Well they got together before us," he said, still sniffling. "And you know, Kacchan and I are already partners in everything. I don't know if there's much point in actually getting married, you know? Besides, even if we did—I don't think Kacchan is ready. I mean, he's never brought up marriage, just mentioned how kick-ass Mina's proposal to Eijirou was once or twice. He'd have the conversation if he was ready, you know?"
Ochako stared holes through him. "What."
"It's fine," he assured her. "We don't need a piece of paper to—"
"No, I mean...Jesus Christ, I'm not doing this again. I'm not doing the oblivious gay bullshit with you again," she snapped. Izuku's eyes widened. On the bright side, his surprise successfully quelled his tears.
"Ochako?
"You're already married, Izuku, you just haven't had a ceremony yet! The only way you could be more married is if you had a joint bank account and filed your taxes together—which you basically do! I've seen you using his credit card, and last year I'm positive I heard you say, 'Sorry, Ochako, I can't come—Kacchan and I have a meeting with our accountant.'"
"Well, yeah—but I diversified my charitable contributions last year, so—"
"NOT the point! You're married, but you're probably both so stupid with your communication that you're assuming the other will propose! Katsuki was probably trying to gauge if you were ready and you were probably giving off 'I don't care' vibes so he wouldn't feel stupid and I've seen all this shit before! Never again!"
She was screeching at this point, and Izuku had huddled back into the couch—alarmed beyond measure. "It's no big deal! If all that is true, it'll happen when it happens!" he insisted. He wanted to marry Kacchan, but if it was inevitable—why rush?
She fixed him with a steely glare. "No the fuck it won't," she huffed. "Put on some real pants, Izuku. I'm calling Mina."
His stomach churned—and he couldn't tell if he was nervous or excited. "Why?" he asked with a healthy amount of trepidation.
There was a determined glint in her eye.
"We're going ring shopping."
"You ready?"
He turned, meeting his mom's teary eyes. He felt his own eyes sting at the sight of her, wearing a soft pink dress—her hair swept up in some sort of fancy updo. Mitsuki had done a beautiful job getting her ready, just like Masaru had done for him.
"I've been ready for years," he replied, heart in his throat. "I'm just worried that I'm going to drown everyone when I get out there."
"He is not ready," Ochako protested, turning him back around. "We're trying to give him some eyeliner, and he keeps messing with his bowtie so it's all lopsided—"
"Kacchan's not gonna care if my—"
"It'll be in the wedding photos, Izuku," Mina sighed. "I can hear it now. 'And my loser ass husband couldn't even keep it together long enough to put on his tie right for once in his life—'"
"I'm better at tying ties now!" he protested.
They both fixed him with an unimpressed stare. "That's not the point," Ochako insisted. "You're going to look perfect before you walk out there, and if you mess up your tie one more time, I'm going to go ask Sero for some tape to stick your arms to your sides."
"Well that'll ruin the wedding photos, too," he pointed out.
Ochako took a deep breath, and Mina placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "If you kill him, you can't be maid of honor," Mina reminded her. "That pretty dress will go to waste, and we won't be able to enjoy the open bar. Think of the open bar, Ochako."
Ochako fixed a wide, threatening smile on her face. "Right. The open bar. The culmination of two years of nonsensical pining and five years of sickening PDA. Pretty dress."
Izuku eyed them nervously. "Guys?"
"I'm gonna redo your tie, and if you touch it, I'm going to chop your hands off. You can survive without your hands. I'll still get my open bar. So behave yourself, Izuku Midoriya."
"Sure," he said weakly, letting Ochako manhandle him. "We'll need a few more minutes."
"We've still got time," Inko assured him, watching them fondly. "About fifteen minutes until they're starting the procession."
His stomach swooped. Fifteen minutes. He was getting married in fifteen minutes. Tears sprang to his eyes and he looked up at the ceiling to stop them from falling. "Hey guys? Eyeliner might not be the best idea," he commented, voice shaky.
"Oh honey," Mina giggled. "Do you think we're dumb enough to get you anything but waterproof makeup and a quirk-grade setting spray? Don't be silly."
He breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, he'd probably still come out looking like a melted painting of a raccoon, but at least it would probably happen after the ceremony—like during the speeches or something. "Alright," he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Do your worst."
"Hi," he said, smile trembling around the edges.
Katsuki was standing in front of him in a perfectly tailored black suit, flecked with tiny details in dark green silk. He suspected Mitsuki had forced the thin gold circlet onto his head, since he'd vetoed the veil as vehemently as he could.
He looked regal and ethereal, and Izuku was so in love with him that his heart could barely beat for the space that it took up in his chest.
"Hi," he murmured back, a little smile on his face. Behind him, Izuku heard his mom burst into tears. "You look...fuck, Deku. You look amazing," he murmured. He reached up and tucked a stray curl behind Izuku's ear.
He did look good—wearing white with a subtle gold trim. There was a crimson rose boutonniere tucked into his lapel, and it matched Kacchan's eyes. Masaru had secured a baby's breath flower crown and nestled it into his hair. Personally, he thought he looked like there were flowers growing out of his head—but he'd gotten good reactions for it so far.
He wondered if Katsuki's parents had done them up like this on purpose—Katsuki reminiscent of the sun, and Izuku of the earth. It made sense—he adored the man in front of him so much that he felt warmed by his very presence, flourishing under his gaze.
He only hoped Katsuki felt that much love in return.
"You ready?" he asked, throat closing up. On the other side of the doors, there was an aisle and altar, and a sea of guests to celebrate them. He couldn't wait to walk in by Kacchan's side, practically vibrating with excitement.
Katsuki's smile widened, and Izuku's heart somersaulted. Katsuki reached out to take his hand. Izuku could feel Katsuki's engagement ring between his fingers, and his bombshell of a fiancé said the same thing he'd said when Izuku proposed. "Hell yeah, Deku. Let's get fucking married."
Inko took Izuku's arm, and Mitsuki took Katsuki's. They would be walking them down the aisle, despite the fact that both mothers were weepy messes. Izuku could hardly blame them. He was one smile away from being a weepy mess himself.
He could barely hear their procession music over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. He was surrounded by people who loved him, and the entire universe seemed to be concentrating into the space between their clasped hands. Eijirou and Ochako were waiting for them at the altar—beaming at them. Tenya passed Ochako a tissue when he was halfway down the aisle, and that's when he realized just how many of their friends were crying.
Hopefully, they were crying enough that the universe would let his own eyes stay dry for one day. Mina and Ochako really had done a fantastic job with his makeup.
When they got to the altar, Izuku felt like his heart and soul were melting together—completely overcome. The arch over the altar was beautiful—stunning white roses mixed with dark green foliage. In front of it, Katsuki seemed to glow.
All Might was their officiant but for once, he wasn't listening to his idol. He could only focus on the way Katsuki kept biting his cheek to keep himself from smiling too wide. The way Katsuki squeezed his hand, just to make a little thrill rush through him.
He jerked to attention when Ochako prodded his side, finally zoning back into the room. "Sorry, what?"
Katsuki snorted, a fond smile accompanying a gentle blush. "I know I'm hot, but you've gotta say your vows, baby."
Vows. Because they were getting married. Right now. This was it. He was rendered breathless by the moment, even as a ripple of laughter went through the crowd. He took a deep breath, and Katsuki took one with him—bracing himself as Izuku looked him in the eyes.
"I don't remember meeting you," Izuku said, unable to look away from Katsuki's face. "Mom says we met on a playground before either of us were any good at talking—and way before you'd learned to play nice." Another wave of laughter went through the room, and a smile tugged at Kacchan's lips.
"It feels like we've barely been more than a few feet away from each other ever since. No matter what happened, no matter how angry we got with each other, I always gravitated back toward you. I'm glad I did, too, because every important moment—every happy moment in my life was made perfect by having you there. The few times you were out of reach were the loneliest of my life—like something had been taken from me that I needed to breathe."
Katsuki bit his lip, but couldn't hide the way it quivered. He could hear Momo's hiccuping cry from four aisles away, but it barely registered—too transfixed by the man in front of him. "I'm so grateful for every moment I have with you. You make me feel alive—challenged and loved and supported all at once. I feel like I can do anything as long as you're there. So, as long as you'll have me, I'll be at your side."
Katsuki took his hand then, and Izuku felt his entire world tilt. He hadn't even started talking yet, and his eyes were filling with tears. He wasn't sure how he'd make it through Katsuki's vows at all.
"You are the most incredible person on the goddamn planet," Katsuki began. It was soft, so soft that he knew their guests couldn't hear him. Izuku didn't care. They could have all left at once, and Izuku would have been just as awed and arrested by this moment. "You're stubborn and pig-headed, and way too self-sacrificial. But that's because you're kind, and you won't back down from what's right, even if it's hard. You love people with all of yourself, and I'm so fucking lucky that you fell in love with me. Most of the time, I can't even believe it."
Izuku's heart was lodged in his throat. "I'm so grateful that...I didn't ruin us forever. That by some goddamn miracle, we weren't so broken that we couldn't be fixed. That no matter how hard I pushed, you kept coming back—giving me chance after chance to learn and grow. Because I think I did, eventually. I learned what love and kindness really looked like, and I learned that from you. I vow to keep learning and growing with you, challenging you, and loving you. No matter what comes next—whether it's villains or fights over doing the dishes—I'll love every moment of it as long as it's with you."
He was crying again, and it wouldn't stop. His heart was so full and he was so happy—sobbing as Katsuki slipped the ring on his finger and Izuku returned the favor.
And as Katsuki kissed him, holding his face in explosive hands and brushing his tears away with his thumbs, Izuku reveled in the fact that he'd get to experience forever with him.
If Izuku had his way, he'd dance with Kacchan until his legs gave out or his heart stopped beating—whichever came first. He felt like he was dreaming; softly swaying to the fancy string quartet that Momo had gifted them for the occasion.
Neither of them were particularly graceful when it came to things like this, but here? For their first dance as a married couple? It felt like he was floating. Like it was only them in the universe and everything else was a dreamscape of silky greens and golds.
His heart fluttered as Katsuki dropped kisses into his curls, stroking circles into the small of his back as they danced. He was so lucky. He remembered a time where this—all the love he felt for and received from this man—felt like an impossibility. So far out of reach that it seemed inconceivable.
But here they were. They were married. He would spend the rest of his life going to bed with Katsuki next to him, and waking up to find him in the kitchen, and spending lazy weekend mornings together, and building their dreams together brick by brick. They were solid and ever-climbing, but the heights of possibility didn't scare him. Not with Kacchan by his side.
A gentle ringing filled the air, pulling Izuku from his lovestruck daydreaming. He turned, just enough to see Mina holding a champagne glass—calling for attention by the head table with an excited grin on her face. He felt Katsuki tense in his arms and looked up at his husband. "What's wrong?"
"I know that look," he muttered darkly. "She's fucking up to something."
"Mom approved the speeches," Izuku reminded him. "She wouldn't let our friends go too off the rails, right?"
"No," Katsuki allowed. "But my mom would."
A gentle trepidation swam in his stomach. These were their friends. Their friends loved them. Their friends wouldn't do anything horrible, he was pretty sure the most they'd do was embarrass them.
Unfortunately, they were really embarrassing—both separately and as a unit. He was acutely aware of it, too, since nobody would ever let them live it down.
"If I can have your attention, we're going to start the speeches!" she called. "Please make your way back to your seats, and make sure to grab a glass of champagne on the way! Don't toast with an empty glass," she said, throwing a little wink to the wedding guests. Behind her, Ochako beckoned to the newlyweds, telling them to come back to their seats to endure whatever torture they'd prepared.
"Now, normally the best man and maid of honor make the first speeches, but Eijirou was kind enough to give up his spot to me so I could join forces with Ochako," Mina continued as the guests began to settle. "We've been waiting a long time for this moment, and we wanted to make sure it got the attention it deserved."
As she spoke, Hanta and Eijirou rolled out a projector and screen, placing the latter just close enough to Izuku and Katsuki to be front and center, but far enough that the couple could see it clearly.
"Izuku and Katsuki seem like such a perfect couple, and they are," she declared, earning a few scattered whoops and claps from the crowd. "But they weren't always so in-sync. In fact, they used to be pretty stupid!"
Katsuki's disgruntled, "OI!" was drowned out by a thrill of laughter.
"This speech is...more of a presentation," Mina said as Ochako turned on the projector. The first slide popped onto the screen, and Izuku stared in awe.
It was taken in the dorm kitchen—almost six years ago now. They looked so young and Izuku was blushing, holding Katsuki's hand across the breakfast table as they ate pancakes—hair rumpled and still in their pajamas. He didn't remember this moment at all, but he looked smitten—gazing softly into Katsuki's eyes as they talked and ate.
In the soft morning light, they looked completely taken with each other. It stole the breath from his throat, how Katsuki's tiny smile seemed to light up his face. He wondered how long they'd been together at that point, for both of them to look so adoring.
"This photo was taken six months before Izuku and Katsuki started dating," Ochako announced. Izuku blanched, whipping to look at Ochako with wide eyes. "Most of the people here know this already, but the fact that we're sitting down at a wedding today is a miracle, because the grooms are the most oblivious people on the planet."
Izuku hid his face in his hands, already mortified. He'd heard some of the stories and he could tell by Katsuki's quiet curse that he had, too.
"This is the story of how everyone and their mothers knew that Katsuki and Izuku were in love with each other before they did," Mina continued, a wide and menacing smile spreading across her face. "Buckle up, folks. We're going on a trip down memory lane, and it's gonna be an insufferable ride."