"You seem very close."

"Hah?! The fuck you spouting about Half n' Half?!"

Katsuki shoved Todoroki away from his vicinity. He doesn't want to get infected by his lack of common sense.

"We're husbands," Katsuki emphasized, speaking slowly as if he was explaining to a toddler. "Husbands stay close together because they love each other."

Damn, Todoroki was being a real eyesore, questioning him about the details of his relationship with Izuku as if this was another interview he had to surpass. He doesn't try hiding his intentions that he hated the heir to the Todoroki dominion. What a shitty, self-centered monarch, naming a realm after themselves. They were so full of themselves, he wouldn't be surprised if the next heir was named Todoroki.

Todoroki Todoroki. Bah, it sounded so believable, Katsuki refused to dwell on the subject any longer.

"No need to be defensive," Todoroki remarked with a deadpan face. He then said, without batting an eye, "I'm just curious. What made you fall for Midoriya-kun in the first place?"

For an innocent question, Katsuki doesn't like the fixated gaze in his eyes, the way they gauge for his answer. It bristled him.

"What is this?" He lowered to a growl. "I'm not playing Twenty Questions with you. I owe you jack shit."

There he goes again, Mr. High and Mighty demanding explanations as if he was entitled to them. He was like this last time as well, asking Katsuki why he trespassed his territory wearing such ridiculous garments. Well, news flash, Todoroki doesn't deserve everything despite his birthright.

"But we aren't playing Twenty Questions," Todoroki said. He blinked. He thought this was quite obvious. "I only asked you one question."

To anyone other than IcyHot, that would have been straight up sass, but Katsuki knew he did not say it with mean-spiritedness or ill will, which made his response all the more worse.

"That's it," he cracked his knuckles. He doesn't mind duking it out on the dance floor. It's better than being treated like a puppet of the monarchy. "You. Me. Right here, right-"

He was muffled as a hand clamped around his vulgar mouth. He was also taken by surprise as he was tugged backwards by brute strength.

Lilies and jasmine tea wafted in the air, and Katsuki was frozen as Uraraka, the woman he had been avoiding ever since her arrival, grabbed his hand.

"Apologies, Prince Todoroki," she said and crowded into Katsuki's space.

"Uraraka-san," the prince acknowledged her and gave her a curt bow. "It has been a while."

"Indeed," she said with a dainty smile, but the grip on Katsuki's wrist was anything but dainty. "How's Yoarashi-san?" she went for small talk.

Todoroki turned around to glance at his table where his best knight practically inhaled their entrees such passion and vigor, the guests who resided in that table switched in favor of another one. Katsuki often overexaggerated whenever he "murdered" his food, but Yoarashi decimated their table in one fell swoop, his belly inflated to maximum capacity.

Todoroki glanced at his table where his knight was practically inhaling the entrees with such passion, everybody left their table in favor of a different one.

"Good," he said with a hint of a smile. "He is overbearing, but I'm afraid I have gotten acquainted with his rambunctiousness."

For a complaint, he doesn't sound unhappy with his knight, which eased her beginning concerns of the duo she met two years ago. Even up to this day she was flabbergasted over why Todoroki allowed him to stand by his side since Yoarashi hated his guts, but whatever. What mattered is that their relationship was loads better, and that was necessary in this turbulent world where coups were after his princely neck.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she pressed deep into the tendons of Katsuki's wrist. He winced. "I hope you don't mind me stealing a dance from him."

She fluttered her eyelashes and clutched onto Katsuki's wrist to demonstrate there was no room for argument.

Either Todoroki got the memo, or he was done with his conversation. "You can." He then glanced over at Katsuki. "Hopefully we can have a nice chat like this again."

To Uraraka, he was giving a polite farewell, but to the blonde, he sounded condescending.

Katsuki seethed.

See this bitch? He was practically asking for a black eye to match with the scar on the other one. Before Katsuki could instigate a brawl, he was tugged away without notice, Uraraka's nails digging into his sleeve. He could have wrenched away from her grasp, but he would rather be in her company than Todoroki's.

"Thank you," she said hurriedly before making eye contact with Katsuki.

She frowned disapprovingly and pulled his collar until they were face to face.

"Are you mad?" she hissed. "This is no time for petty disputes!"

She took Katsuki's chin and redirected it to his husband's direction. Izuku was engaged in a conversation with his parents, cheeks tinted red from the alcohol and eyes scrunched up in laughter. He was playing the perfect act of a man who was just married to the love of his life, drunk in mirth and filled with happiness.

Katsuki doesn't know why he felt threatened hearing Izuku's chime-like giggles or why his eyes couldn't drift away from the nerd almost snorting champagne up his nose, but he doesn't want to stick around to find out. The blonde stuck out his bottom lip and amassed a sulky expression.

His hatred for Todoroki dissipated briefly and was replaced by a feeling of inadequacy. He knew why, but he doesn't want to admit it to a woman he barely knew and almost killed in the past.

"What's even your deal?" she asked as they went into position, hands placed upon shoulders and hips. "He has done nothing to Nethereal."

Soft jazzy tunes placed their dancing neighbors into a mesmerized spell, and Katsuki and Uraraka played along to not rouse further suspicion. They swayed to the beat, but their minds were elsewhere. Anger was an emotion that was easy to tap back into, an emotion Katsuki would gladly roll around in than whatever he felt earlier. Insecurity. Guilt. Weakness.

His eyes flickered from Todoroki to Uraraka like a flame, quick but molten and hot.

"That's exactly why I hate him," he spat. "This war went on for over a decade."

So many were robbed from kinder and peaceful life.

"Like any war, there were definitely moments where anybody could change the tides or gained momentum."

Uraraka felt the shift in her partner's stance, the way he guided her to a twirl with practiced ease, but his movements were too stiff and jerky to perform it fluidly.

"Yet," he narrowed his eyes, full of the contempt he held for the prince and his bastard family, "They did nothing, watching from the sidelines, claiming they were too good for our war and announced themselves as a neutral zone."

Katsuki would flip them the bird. A neutral zone. Everyone knew that was a bunch of horseshit.

As he grew older and became more involved with the politics, he understood that the Todoroki's aversion to their war was exactly that. Politics. Though there was no absolute proof, the Bakugou family were well aware of Todoroki Enji's greed, for he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, for the moment where the two nations would be crippled and ripe for the picking. If not, he would wait for them to beg for his assistance, using his military and bountiful resources as leverage. If he wasn't invading, he would beseech an unfair alliance.

"Todoroki-kun is not like his father," Uraraka pleaded for his case. "He cared about the war, he-"

"And he what? Helped you guys seek asylum for the victims you rescued?" He scoffed. "Yet, he did it all in secrecy. He didn't extend the full brunt of his power, didn't go against his old man," he said with derision. "He was a coward, and he was no different from the people who allowed the war to get that bad."

Despite these efforts, they still haven't made a difference in the long run. His father's rule, the iron grip he held upon the dominion, was as tight as ever. One prime example was the people who were shot and killed on sight whenever they approached the border. Under the name of neutrality, Todoroki Enji ensured nobody could bring the war to them.

So what if Half and Half tried to obtain his own destiny, tried to defy orders and went on his own path? At the root of all this, he was no different from Katsuki himself, and that grated him the most.

Then there was a sharp intake of breath, and Katsuki looked at his dance partner with confusion.

Uraraka wore trepidation and fear like a mask. She asked him a question in the smallest voice.

"How?"

They stopped dancing altogether, coming into a complete standstill. Uraraka looked torn between bolting out of the door or threatening Katsuki to never speak of Todoroki's involvement ever again. Katsuki realized his mistake and only had himself to blame for having such flabby lips. In contrast to his warm and sweaty palms, Uraraka's hands were clammy and cold.

To not make a spectacle of themselves, they went to a nearby table, one that was mostly isolated from the staff and party guests. She hunched forward, her hand tilted in an angle to cover her lips in case someone wanted to read them. Her eyes flitted from table to table to check and see if anybody was remotely interested in their conversation.

Finally, she said under her breath in a hushed tone, "That information was confidential."

Ah, shit. Katsuki was in deep water now.

"No one," she said pointedly, "No one, except a handful of people, were trusted enough to gain this information.

She squeezed his hands tight, her countenance grim and serious.

"So tell me…" She watched for any signs on his face with rapt attention and waited with bated breath. "Who told you this?"

Katsuki remembered.

He remembered of a foolish green-haired man who trusted without reservations, who promised him his father's head on a silver platter. He remembered of a man with freckled cheeks and scarred arms who was determined to prove the world he could make a difference, who proved to him that even weaklings can change.

Change was relative, but in Izuku's case, his change came with sacrifice, a sacrifice Katsuki eventually had to learn, too, ever since he allowed him to live.

He deflected the answer with another question. "What makes you assume we didn't have intel about your ragtag group?"

By oath, Katsuki was not supposed to speak about this, but he can at least tweak the truth. However, he knew Uraraka was a smart woman. She wouldn't have survived the war and had gotten this far with sheer luck. His encounter with the woman was brief, but it spoke magnitudes of her potential.

Look at her now, a woman with a success story in her name, seated upon a position of power. Katsuki was glad he spared her life, for he wouldn't have seen her blossom into who she was meant to be. It was one less failure for him to worry about.

"I see…" Uraraka said and mulled over his words. She shouldn't have been so shocked; she should have expected this. There was no immediate danger at the moment and the war was over, so let bygones be bygones. "Well then," she lightly tapped her fingertips against the surface of the table, "What else do you know?"

She waggled her brows.

Katsuki smirked.

He had to give it to her, she got points for her spunk and audacity, a brave question he thought only Izuku could pull off.

"Some secrets are meant to stay as secrets, Round Face."

"Round Face?!"

"They're definitely not square-shaped, if that's what you're arguing about."

Uraraka pressed against her rosy cheeks and tested out their pudginess.

"They're not that round," she mumbled. "I don't get what Izuku-kun sees in you."

"No, they're adorable, Uraraka-san."

"Izuku-kun!" Uraraka exclaimed.

Said man stood near their table with a drink in hand and an amused smile plastered on his face. His hair was messy from all the ruffling he received tonight, most of them from his elders who congratulated him for his marriage.

"It's getting late Uraraka-san," he said as he read the time from his wristwatch. "You have somebody waiting for you near the exit. Sounds pretty urgent."

Yet, as he said that, there were crinkles near the corners of his eyes and a soft, hopeful tone in his voice. She had enough context clues to make a conjecture, her lips curving into a small smile.

"Is he tall and broad?" Uraraka feigned ignorance.

"Yes, he is," he replied.

"Dorky glasses and blue hair?"

"Yup," he emphasized the 'p' sound. "Wearing a horrid button-up shirt with oranges printed on it."

"Oh dear," Uraraka giggled into her hand. "Are those his sleeping robes? Was he expecting us to have a serious talk wearing that?"

"If you play your cards right," Izuku's eyes twinkled as he teased, "He won't be wearing that any longer."

His sly teasing earned him a slight slap on the arm. "You're horrible," Uraraka said, tomato-faced. "Just horrible."

Katsuki made a grimace, his mind conjuring up a terrible mental image of Four Eyes butt-naked. Izuku must have read his mind since he passed him an apologetic look when they made eye contact.

"Go to him," Izuku urged. His hands caressed Uraraka's. "This is Iida-kun." His head titled towards the door. "Take it or leave it."

Uraraka was hesitant as she rose from her seat because beyond that door, there would be no other exit to escape. However, she wasted enough time twiddling her fingers and table hopping to spark conversations. Her heart was set from the moment Izuku came and informed her of Iida's arrival.

Take it or leave it?

She would take it all, including the messy bits and his garish shirts. She was his ride or die, and he was hers.

They were going to be alright.

"Thank you, Izuku-kun," she said, tiptoeing to leave a chaste peck on his cheek. "Congratulations. May you live a long and happy married life."

She spared a glance towards Katsuki's way, reading him to a point that it left him a tad uncomfortable, but then she sent him a smug smile of her own. Katsuki stared back, oblivious, but then her cheeks glowed, pink and radiant, as she activated her quirk.

"Eh? Uraraka-san, what are you-"

Izuku floated off the ground a couple inches, hands scrambling to find purchase. He hoped to latch onto his friend, but Uraraka, without warning, pushed his weightless body to his husband, which led him to immediately collide into him head-on since she pushed much harder than intended. Katsuki shot out of his chair, the legs scraping against the carpet, as he caught him.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-" Izuku said, face pressed against his chest.

Katsuki clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Freaking Round Face," he said, watching her retreating form as she strode across the reception hall. He was going to give her a piece of his mind, but she vamoosed before she got an earful. "Butting her nose into business she doesn't belong."

"Um…"

"What is it now?" he grouched.

"… I think she deactivated her quirk now."

Indeed, his feet were solidly placed on the floor, but most likely Izuku was referring to his placement nestled within Katsuki's arms, which were protectively wrapped around his waist as a precaution. After all, he doesn't want to cause a scene where his husband just drifted off to the ceiling. Besides the overly charged moments they premeditated for the audience, this was probably the closest they have ever been due to their own volition.

Usually Katsuki would have backed off or shoved him away, minding his own personal space, but to Izuku's abject surprise, he had done none of the above. Izuku was at a loss for words. With Uraraka gone, the conversation died down until there was silence between the two. It was almost unbearable until the beat dropped, and the lead singer signaled all the couples to gather round for the slow song that was next on the playlist, which gave Izuku the perfect excuse to step away. He doesn't want to continue standing there like a lame duck, so he cautiously reached out his hand.

"Care to join me for one last dance?" he offered awkwardly.

Katsuki made no move to take it. Izuku looked off to the side and rubbed the back of his neck. The dimming lights casted a romantic vibe in the room as multiple pairs, people of all shapes and sizes, clasped hands and joined with the rest as if they belonged there. Katsuki saw that, understood the implications of integrating into the group and how standoffish they seemed. He would have taken that hand in a heartbeat to preserve their image.

"No," he replied.

Izuku's smile wavered, the liquid courage he gained sizzling to a hiss. His hand slowly slid back to his side. "Oh…"

"Don't take it the wrong way," Katsuki huffed and plopped back to his seat. "I'm not in the mood for dancing."

As proof, he evidently laid his head against his sleeve and ignored the world outside of him. Sure, he might be called a party pooper later on, but at this stage of this reception, he doesn't fucking care. He doesn't blame Izuku for putting on one last grand show since the nerd was dedicated to his role as a lovestruck man, but Katsuki was running on empty, most of his energy committed to Kaminari's games and the cake fiasco.

His squad was hoping to squish a giant slice of decadent spiced chocolate cake against his face, but Katsuki was not a naïve fool who would fall for the classic trip and slip. Sadly, he was married to a naïve fool who was absolutely, without fail, deceived by the oldest trick in the book. Flecks of ganache were still stuck on Izuku's hair, giving him the impression of freshly mowed grass with dirt. That would be a bitch to clean in the shower.

Typically, Izuku would ask again, pleading him with those infuriating doe eyes to finish one last dance, and for some reason, Katsuki was uncertain if he could refuse him. That frightened him, but then again, he had gone even greater lengths for his friends.

Then the most magical thing happened. Izuku plopped at the seat right next to him.

A beat later, Katsuki asked him, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," Izuku replied and adjusted his bottom to feel more snug.

"I can see that. Why?"

Izuku blinked rapidly and tilted his head. "You're not in the mood for dancing," he said as if it was the most natural reason in the world.

Katsuki grumbled. "I'm not," he pointed at himself. "But you," he then pointed to Izuku, "Can go dancing."

"I am," Izuku said confidently and used his fingers to walk right up to him. "With you." He swiveled his fingers on the surface of the table and directed his pointer finger at him. "We can do finger dancing."

"Finger dancing," he repeated after him.

"Finger dancing," Izuku parroted, sparkles radiating from the glitter on his face.

"Rejected."

"Hey! You haven't tried it out yet!" Izuku attempted to coax Katsuki to join his antics. "It's not hard to do."

"Sounds like something stupid to do," Katsuki interjected back.

Izuku was not deterred based on his fingers twisting themselves to a poor portrayal of a curtsy. The sight itself was asinine because a grown man was mimicking dancing movements with his fingers when he could have gone out and performed a real curtsy. Katsuki was too appalled to say more.

"Just to let you know," Izuku said softly, "You don't have to do it really." He smiled.

The sweet baritone of the singer was beautiful and accompanied well with the melodic chords he strummed from his guitar. Izuku stared at the couples who were joined at the hip, their heads placed on each other's shoulders. The song kept going on, but those couples were stuck in their fantasy. However, Izuku and Katsuki were not like those couples, and Izuku accepted that fact long ago. He expected himself to feel bitter, to taste it in his tongue, letting it dwell and sit until the flavor subsided, but oddly enough, it was absent. He was happy to just spend some time with Katsuki, and with that, he was thankful.

Katsuki stared at him long and hard. He sighed because he knew Izuku was telling the truth. This was not some ploy for Katsuki to feel guilt and relent to Izuku's wants. After all, this was Izuku. He was not that type of person. Yeah, he was stubborn to a fault, but Katsuki had set his boundaries long ago, boundaries Izuku had respected time and time again.

Katsuki peeked through his sleeve at Izuku's frame, whose attention was focused elsewhere since he had given up on cajoling Katsuki to participate. Eyes half-mast, he looked tired but still bobbed his head up and down to the beat, living the best time of his life despite these circumstances. The blonde openly stared and almost yawned when he saw Izuku stifled his. This was nice, he thought. He felt content. Even scarier, he felt something else.

It was a feeling called gratitude.

With resignation, he dragged his fingers along the edge of the table, feeling more and more horrified as they inched closer to Izuku's hand. His husband jumped a bit when he felt the prod at his hand.

Katsuki's fingers made an attempt to bow low. "May I have this dance?"

His voice was muffled by his sleeve since he still used his other arm as a prop for a pillow, but Izuku heard everything, loud and clear. The green bean, excited, tapped his fingers back onto the table and scurried over to where Katsuki's fingers were.

"Now what?"

Katsuki asked. Needless to say, he was a beginner at this so-called finger dancing. Izuku was not an expert either, but he was optimistic that Katsuki would catch on real quick.

"Follow my lead," he said and proceeded to step forward and back.

For the rest of the reception, this was what they did, lazily "dancing" until the band strung out their last solo, until the last wedding guest drunkenly left, until the restaurant staff hustled to finish cleaning. Katsuki and Izuku were escorted back to their rooms with their bodyguards, and though they were more than capable to fend their own hides, they appreciated their work today because today their legs felt like noodles and their heads buzzed like a beehive.

Izuku whined and groaned as Katsuki redirected him by the shoulders to the bathroom to, in his words, "Wash off the shitty gunk off his hair." He knew he wasn't speaking about the loads of hair gel in his tresses.

Showered and squeaky clean, they barely registered going into bed, sleeping soundly without an interruption in sight, most likely due to everyone's expectations that they consummated their marriage, which was ludicrous to imagine. The only bone they were getting was being bone weary.

When morning came, Katsuki woke first, already accustomed to his strict sleeping schedule, cheek pressed against Izuku's shirt. For the past few days, Izuku was a persistent koala, curling up to him and entangling their legs until Katsuki suffocated from the proximity. It was quite the predicament when it happened the first time, and he guessed it was because of their budding friendship to explain why Izuku suddenly crawled up in his space like that. He stayed there for a while to listen to his steady heartbeat and the dumb little warbles he would let out in occasion.

Following the routine, Katsuki peeled him off and proceeded to get dressed, pushing back the curtains to greet the new day. After all, today was the day. The birds were chirping. The sun was out and bright.

Today was the start of their honeymoon.