Aizawa wasn't sure how they'd wound up like this—with Izuku backed against the coat check room wall, arms pinned above his head as the pro hero mauled his neck.

Well, no, he could recall exactly how they'd wound up like that.

He remembered getting dressed for the wedding two hours earlier, full of breaks to kiss and to ogle and to make suggestive comments. Then, upon seeing Izuku in his full fancy suit, attempting to take it off him—without intent, though it was definitely toeing the line. And then the vigilante had to go and put on eyeliner.

The pro hero was a weak man, but only when it came to pretty green-haired young men in eyeliner, apparently.

Once they'd broken apart long enough to drive to the wedding venue, Aizawa spotted the coat check room. A closet. And the pair of newlyweds had such good times in public closets.

A pounding on the door startled both of them.

"Shouta? Are you hiding in there?"

Aizawa reluctantly pulled back before yelling a reply to his best friend. "Yeah."

"What are you doing? We've got to practice walking. Hurry up and come out of the closet."

"Hizashi, I'm bi."

"Not what I mea—" The voice hero broke off as he pushed open the door and saw the position his best friend was in.

For once, Yamada Hizashi, the talkative voice hero Present Mic, was at a loss for words. The stoic erasure hero had a smaller, much-younger-looking man pinned against the wall. The other man's neck was covered in violent red love marks. And the man was wearing what appeared to be an engagement ring on the hand woven into Aizawa's now-messy half-bun. From his hesitation, it was obvious that Hizashi had no idea where to begin.

"Shouta—that boy you're ravaging is engaged!"

Aizawa shoved his face in Izuku's shoulder, holding back a snicker at the wording. "He's married, actually."

Hizashi tore the black-haired man away and, cocking his fist back, let a sucker punch fly at his best friend's face. Aizawa was so stunned he didn't even make a move to block it. He should have expected it, though; he'd known the blond would be supremely disgusted in Aizawa if the other

man was actually a knowing participant in adultery.

"And you, you—" Hizashi thrust a finger in Izuku's panicked face "—you tarted-up hussy!"

"Do not talk to my husband like that." Aizawa's voice was cold and toneless as he placed himself between the two other men.

"What?"

"Sho," Izuku whined mischievously. "You promised he would like the suit."

"What."

"'Zashi, I'd like you to meet my husband, Midoriya-Aizawa Izuku. Izuku, you already know who this is."

"And I am such a h-h-huge fan, Present Mic." The green-haired boy reached out to clasp the blond hero's hand in both of his. "The w-w-way you've used your platform to talk about support for quirks with self-destructive aspects is incredible. One of my employees just f-f-finished your audiobook and it really helped him accept his scars."

Hizashi looked down at the calloused hands still shaking his, and over at Aizawa's. "You're not wearing rings."

"Mmhmm," Aizawa agreed, looking over at the younger man. "That's right, we're not wearing rings."

"Sho—" Izuku pouted.

"No, how about you tell Hizashi exactly why we're not wearing rings."

"Eraser—"

"'Zuku—"

"I was on a lot of drugs and I ate them."

Aizawa looked at his best friend and gestured to his husband, as if that explanation would be even remotely logical or comprehensible to the voice hero.

"I have even more questions now, to be honest. You're married and I wasn't your best man?" Hizashi sounded almost heartbroken.

Izuku smiled at the blond. "We had a courthouse marriage; you didn't miss a wedding ceremony or anything."

Hizashi narrowed his eyes, staring down the black-haired man. "You had a quickie marriage to someone you just met?"

"Of course not, that would be illogical. I've known Izuku for five years." "Then why," Hizashi hissed, "have you never mentioned him?"

"You n-never m—"

"—problem child." His tone said what he couldn't.

"Oh. My. God. Problem child. You're Deku!" "...I guess I have mentioned you."

"Shit."

"Shouta, you married a vigilante. You can't—" "I can."

"You two can discuss this all later, but m-m-maybe you both should apologize and, uh, did you say practice walking?"

Hizashi screamed; thankfully, Aizawa saw it coming and was able to turn on his quirk before their hearing was irreparably damaged. "Nem is gonna kill me. Us. Fuck, sorry for, uh, punching you." The blond grimaced, looking at the bruise threatening to rise around his best friend's eye.

"I'm sorry for not telling you I got married. We'll give you the story on a later date; for now, let's get you married."

"Little listener, uh, Midoriya—"

"Just Izuku, please," the green-haired man allowed, though Aizawa wanted to correct Hizashi—the husbands had both updated their names to use the hyphenated 'Midoriya-Aizawa.'

"Izuku, then. Are you going to be okay if I steal Shouta for a bit?" "Is Nezu here?" the vigilante asked.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck," Aizawa injected.

"Then I'll be totally fine. Sho, Yamada-san, I'll see you later. Good luck!" With that Izuku strode out the door, leaving the two pro heroes alone.

"Do I want to know?"

"No," Aizawa answered. "Now, you really have to teach me to walk?" "Don't worry, you'll be fine. But maybe fix up your hair?"

After a quick refresher on the way he was supposed to 'glide' with Hizashi—and Aizawa was no novice to graceful movement, having taken both gymnastics and ballet when he was younger once he realized how useful they'd be for underground heroics—it was time. The string quartet started a classic cover of one of the blond's favorite songs.

"I'm freaking out," he admitted to his best man—his best friend. "That's illogical. You love her, she loves you."

It wasn't much of a pep talk, but over a decade of friendship made it so that the words weren't what was important. Besides, Aizawa was of a singular mind: if you're in love, it's only logical to get married. Even if you've been together less than a week, apparently.

"Yeah, you're right." Hizashi nodded at the usher to open the doors.

The two men walked—no, glided to the altar. The groom stood just right of center, Aizawa slightly to the side and further back. The next few minutes of the wedding were everything the black-haired man's hadn't been—a bride in a white dress, live music, actual rings, an audience. Aizawa shifted, uncomfortable at all the eyes on him.

Until he met Izuku's gaze, and an instant calm came over him. Even when Hizashi turned to him for the rings, the erasure hero kept his composure, knowing his love was watching.

(Aizawa gamely ignored the fact that his boss, and new pseudo-father-in-law, was also watching him with beady little eyes.)

All too soon, the justice of the peace had announced Hizashi and Nemuri married, and the newlyweds had walked back down the aisle and exited the church. Aizawa followed, trying to keep Nemuri's maid of honor—Fukukado Emi, better known as the pro hero Ms. Joke—at an arm's length.

"When's that gonna be us?" the green-haired woman asked.

He held off shoving her, but it was a near thing. As soon as they exited the chapel, he put as much distance between them as possible.

Unfortunately, 'as much as possible' was soon revealed to be 'almost none,' as they were seated next to one another at the reception dinner. Had his own sweet husband not been seated on his other side, Aizawa undoubtedly would have put his underground heroics skills to practice and disappeared.

Even with Izuku there, he very much wanted to.

"So when're you gonna stop playing hard-to-get and agree to a date with me?"

Aizawa clenched twin fists as he stared down at his—admittedly delicious-looking—plate. He'd never known how to shut down the joking heroine's innuendos. With how one-sided they were— and with how many times the black-haired hero had explained he wasn't interested—they held none of the playful banter that Aizawa and Izuku's shared.

Luckily, the erasure hero didn't need to say anything—the green-haired young man next to him took care of it.

Izuku slammed down his silverware and said, clearly and controlled, "I don't know anything about your upbringing, Ms. Joke, but where I'm from it's generally considered poor manners to proposition a man in front of his husband."

Nemuri gasped—Hizashi hadn't had time to fill her in, but she understood what those words meant. Ms. Joke, however, was not as perceptive. "And who're you, kid?"

In true little-shit manner, the kind Aizawa usually only saw when the younger man was working as Deku, Izuku placed his hand—his left hand, engagement ring clear—on top of his husband's. "Midoriya-Aizawa Izuku."

Whatever Ms. Joke was about to say was cut off by Nemuri's excited squeal. The bride made gimme hands at the young man, asking to see the ring. Izuku was more than happy to oblige.

"Izuku—may I call you Izuku?—it's beautiful!"

"Thank you," the boy blushed. "Shouta r-r-really outdid himself."

She turned to Aizawa and made a similar face to Hizashi's earlier one, clear displeasure in having not been invited. "No wedding rings?"

Aizawa sighed. "'Zuku?"

"Ah, we had rings—Electric Blue Raspberry BlastTM ring pops, in fact. And they were delicious."

"That makes so much more sense," Hizashi mumbled to himself.

"You're married?" Ms. Joke asked. Everyone ignored her.

"When'd you meet?" Nemuri asked.

Aizawa arched a brow at her, message clear: here's a story, but I'll explain more later. "For the first time, about five years ago."

"You know the konbini at the c-c-corner by the old library?" Izuku slipped into his Deku-like storyteller mode. "The one that always is g-g-getting robbed? I'm there, flat broke, buying cup noodles. A seven-armed woman, uncomfortably asymmetric, comes in. She's holding six knives and an empty bag for wallets. So there goes my last 400 yen that I was going to spend on noodles, and I'm trying to f-f-figure out whether to five-finger-discount them anyway, and—"

"Izuku." Sure, there was a kernel of truth in that story—and it was told so vibrantly that Aizawa found himself half-believing it—but it left out important details: namely, that Izuku was in full costume, not holding cup noodles, and had chased the woman into the shop.

"Right, so anyway Sho busts in, eyes a f-f-fiendish glowing red, wild mane of black floating menacingly behind him, and I mentally called dibs."

"Wait, that first time?" Aizawa hadn't known that.

"Yep."

"And you, Shouta?" Nemuri asked, entranced.

"I knew from the get-go that the problem child was going to give me hell; I just didn't realize it'd be the good kind."

"Wait, problem child? You mean—" Nemuri was able to connect the same dots Hizashi had. Apparently, Aizawa had affectionately spoken about the vigilante more than he'd realized.

"Yes," Izuku confirmed out loud as Aizawa nodded. There was no reason not to confirm it; Hizashi couldn't keep secrets from her anyway.

"I didn't realize you were together. How long...?"

"I asked him to be my plus-one last Saturday, learned his name Sunday, had our first date Tuesday,

moved in on Wednesday, and we got married yesterday. Logical progression."

"There's nothing logical about that." Ms. Joke finally stopped blue-screening and re-entered the conversation.

"It's love," Izuku explained. He hooked his ankle around Aizawa's under the table. "If you've never felt it, it might not make sense to you—but that does not make it nonsense."

"Well said," Hizashi chimed in, leaning over to give his new wife a kiss. "Very well said," Aizawa whispered to his husband.

"Well," Nemuri said, looking at the other tables in the room—a small gathering of a few dozen heroes and friends, plus a few trusted paparazzi. Hundreds more would be joining the post-dinner reception. "Shouta, are you ready for your best-man speech?"

"What."