With a chuckle, Aizawa got out of the car and walked around to help Izuku up. "Wouldn't joke about something like this," he said, as he led his fiancé up the steps of the courthouse. Being nearly 2 a.m., there was only a dim light on in the lobby, and a security guard who had been given a heads up and let the pair in.
Aizawa thanked the bulky woman holding the door open—he vaguely recognized her as a former villain, but knew that finding a job post-incarceration was challenging, and that she must have shown great improvement to be allowed to be a solo security guard at a municipal building.
"You allowed to leave your post for a few minutes?" he asked her. "We're gonna need your help, too."
"Of course, Eraserhead, sir," she said in a very low voice, clearly recognizing the hero. So they had met before, likely when she was on the wrong side of the law. Nonetheless, she followed Aizawa and the heavily-supported Izuku into the elevator, down a hallway on the third floor, and into an office.
The placard on the giant wooden desk in the richly wood-paneled room said Justice Kendo Aoi. The man behind the desk—disheveled and tired-looking—was wearing a judge's robe thrown hastily over what were clearly silk pajamas.
"What's this about?" the man said crankily.
"We need to get married. Immediately."
While the security guard looked thrilled, clasping her hands together and whispering something about true love, the judge looked at the pair with discerning eyes. Taking in Izuku's pale visage, pain-clenched teeth, he made a reasonable—if not entirely accurate—assumption. The judge asked Izuku, "Do you know this man? Are you being forced into this?"
"What?" the vigilante asked in surprise. "Of course I know him, and not at all. We're engaged, we just had to move the timeline up a bit."
"Hmm," the judge said, rummaging in a desk drawer for some paperwork. He placed a few forms on the desk, followed by an ink pad and a large official-looking seal. "You still need a witn—oh, never mind," he said as he realized why they'd brought the security guard up with them. Coming around the desk, he pulled the chairs back so the the couple could face one another and he could preside from a more traditional position. "Do you have vows?"
"We can wing it," the pro hero said, before facing his fiancé. "The past few days have been the best of my life and I can't wait to marry you. I love you, problem child."
Izuku started to tear up. "I fuckin' love you too."
Then Aizawa looked expectantly at the judge, who clearly had expected more from their vows. The security guard was crying, soft grin slapped on her face, but the judge just looked constipated.
"Do you have rings?"
Izuku started shaking his head, but was interrupted when Aizawa said they did. Under the younger man's curious gaze, the pro hero reached into his jumpsuit pocket and pulled out the real reason he'd stopped at the konbini on their way to the courthouse.
Two gigantic, garishly shiny Electric Blue Raspberry BlastTM ring pops.
Aizawa tossed one to Izuku and, after some crinkling cellophane, both men held a ring in their hand.
The judge sighed. A deep, bone-weary sigh. The sigh of someone so done with this world that he just wanted to go back to sleep and pretend this had never happened, pretend it was all a fever dream.
"Eraserhead—"
"It's Aizawa Shouta."
"Then Aizawa, place your 'ring' on this man's finger—"
"He's Midoriya Izuku."
"Place your ring on Midoriya's finger and repeat after me: This ring represents my commitment to you and my promise to love you unconditionally as long as I shall live."
The pro hero placed the ring pop on Izuku's outstretched hand and repeated the formal words.
"And Midoriya, place your ring on Aizawa's finger and repeat after me: This ring represents my commitment to you and my promise to love you unconditionally as long as I shall live."
Izuku, still a tad woozy, placed the ring pop on the black-haired man's finger with trembling hands. He tried his best to remember the vow the judge had instructed. "This ring means I'm, uh, committed to you because I love you and that's forever." He started sobbing.
"Good enough. With the power invested in me by the prefecture of Mustafa and the sovereignty of Japan, I now pronounce you husbands."
As the judge motioned the security guard to get her witness signature on the document, Aizawa reached for his groom. With a gentle hand on Izuku's cheek, he drew them together, mindful of the cut over the younger man's ribs.
A kiss, slow, deep. One of love, not frantic passion, joined the pair together. The start of their next lifetime together.
"Come sign this then get the hell out of my office," the judge grumbled.
Aizawa grinned against Izuku's mouth, not moving away as he whispered against it. "We're married."
"We're married," the vigilante whispered back, before pulling back and accepting the pen offered by the judge.
After both hero and vigilante had signed the forms, the judge stamped his official seal and dismissed the security guard. As he ran the paperwork through the scanner, he addressed the newlyweds.
"I'll send you home with a copy of this and enter it into the system before I go home and back to bed, but it's already in effect. You can now go do whatever you couldn't wait until morning for. And no, I don't want to know."
"Thanks, Kendo-sama," Aizawa said earnestly. "We're square."
"We'd better be," the judge grumbled, handing a copy of the marriage certificate to the man. His face briefly flickered to something warmer: "Congratulations, Eraserhead, Midoriya. Now get the hell out of my office."
Izuku broke into pained giggles as Aizawa swept the smaller man into a bridal carry and held him through the entire walk down to the lobby, past a whooping security guard, and back to their car.
"Next stop, Mustafa General." He helped Izuku with the seatbelt and got in himself. "Husband." As Aizawa started the car and pulled out, Izuku repeated the sentiment. "Husband."
Their matching grins—mildly manic but with clear genuine joy—were still plastered on their faces as they entered the hospital. The triage nurse shied away as the pair approached.
"Pro hero Eraserhead, license L200-473B, and civilian husband Midoriya Izuku. Stab wound, several inches long, nearly an inch deep. Bleeding has mostly stopped, currently held with butterfly closures, but requiring sutures, antibiotics, and likely a tetanus shot."
The nurse looked over Aizawa with confusion, neon pink eyes unable to find evidence of injury. "Sir...?"
"For him," the older man specified, gently nudging Izuku a bit further forward. "Oh," she said, eyes widening. "That looks more like it. Let's get you back there."
The emergency department was thankfully empty at 2:30 in the morning, so the newlyweds were quickly shown a room. Once a doctor had evaluated the injury—agreeing fully with the pro hero's assessment—treatment was quick. Other than a few minutes out of the room to allow the doctor to ask Izuku the standard domestic violence questions, Aizawa held the vigilante's ring-clad hand with his own the entire time, only looking away for a moment when he received the most terrifying text message of his life.
[Rat God]
I suppose congratulations are in order. Take today off and I expect to see you at staff meeting next Friday. You hurt him and I will destroy your life.
A message threatening violence would have been less frightening; Nezu could be creative in punishments, and Aizawa had no doubt the at the principal would pull out all the stops to protect his protégé-slash-pseudo-son.
It was just after 3 a.m. by the time they made it back to the car, Izuku nearly collapsing into the passenger seat as the pain meds he'd been given began to kick in.
The pro hero started the car. "I'm not going to work today."
"Mmkay."
"You're not going to work today." After all, it was less than an hour before Izuku would otherwise need to begin baking.
"Mmkay, but—" The boy patted down his pockets before Aizawa realized what he was looking for, and drew Izuku's phone from his own jumpsuit pocket. Declining the offered phone, Izuku said, "Send a message to the 'Employees Only' group chat. Uh, something like, 'Café closed tomorrow sorry come by for lunch though.'"
Without bothering to look at the group's members, Aizawa typed the message and put the phone back in his pocket. He started the drive back to their (their!) apartment before asking about the lunch offer.
"I hire help through a former-villain rehabilitation non-profit. Employment after incarceration is rough—I noticed you checking out the guard at the courthouse—and lack of a job just leads to high recidivism rates." The green-haired vigilante yawned. "Even for former villains who can get a job, their wages are garnished to hell and back. I pay extremely well, but they still sometimes have trouble making ends meet. So I figured I could at least ensure they're getting one good meal a day."
Aizawa could hear the truth in Izuku's statement—and had seen the villain relapse rates in person. But he still wanted to know. "Who?"
With a goofy smile, Izuku just said, "You're going to hate them," before passing out.