The reception was a production. Hizashi was loving it and Nemuri was thriving. The newlyweds were hamming it up, flitting between well-wishers, celebrities, fellow pro heroes, law enforcement, friends, and family alike. As for Aizawa and Izuku, they were putting their respective underground heroics and vigilantism to the test, blending into the background. Yet—and the black-haired hero had to give himself a pat on the back for being a good teacher—Aizawa's former mentee found them. (Of course, the purple-haired sidekick at Hizashi's agency had likely been trying to blend into his own patch of nearby wall when he spotted them.)

"Aizawa-sensei," the man said with a lazy half-bow.

No matter how many times the older hero tried to get him to drop the 'sensei,' it never worked; Aizawa was pretty sure the kid only kept doing it because he knew it irked him.

"Hitoshi, I was planning on trying to find you in a bit. I'd like you to meet my husband, Midoriya- Aizawa Izuku. 'Zuku, this is my long-term mentee-turned-friend Shinsou Hitoshi, the pro hero Puppeteer." Aizawa pointed a proactively-accusatory finger at the purple-haired hero. "And if you're going to complain about not being invited to the wedding—"

The young hero interrupted his mentor with a shrug. "Makes sense that you wouldn't want to make a big deal out of getting hitched to the number one vigilante in Mustafa."

"How did you—nope, I don't even want to know. Ah shit, Tsukauchi's coming over; Izuku, you can absolutely not talk to him. Hitoshi, can you stick with him for a bit?" Not that Izuku needed a babysitter... most of the time.

At Hitoshi's nod, he headed towards the waiting detective. He caught the first few exchanges of the two younger men's conversation, though.

"So. I like your work." Awkward as always, Hitoshi.

"I have a cat named after you!" Blurted out in true Izuku fashion.

"I'm pretty sure we just became best friends."

"Good, because I have so many questions about your qui—"

"Eraserhead." Tsukauchi's no-nonsense voice cut through his eavesdropping. "Detective." He nodded in acknowledgement.

"You're looking well."

It was true—not only did the pro hero clean up well, he was (for lack of a better term) glowing. Aizawa shrugged. "Got married."

"To Deku?" the detective asked, jokingly looking around, as if he'd spot the young man in vigilante gear.

"How the fuck—"

"Wait, seriously, you did? I was kidding," Tsukauchi chuckled. "But come on, Aizawa-san. He's literally the only person other than Yamada, Kayama, and Shinsou that you talk about."

"Are you going to—"

"As far as I'm concerned, weddings are neutral zones. Temporary amnesty."

"You might want to permanently pull back the force, too. He rarely throws the first punch, and has never used a quirk in his vigilantism work."

"...never?" Tsukauchi narrowed his eyes. "You know what his quirk is."

"I do. And no, nobody on the board got it right."

"Shit. Can't believe you've been—this whole time—"

"We only met as civilians less than a week ago, so the relationship is fairly new." "What!"

Aizawa was thankfully excused from continuing the conversation by rumblings of a confrontation —by the wall he'd left Izuku and Hitoshi at. The black-haired hero slunk back towards them, close enough to see and hear what was happening. He held off on intervening—yet.

To the pro hero's surprise, it was one of his former students, Bakugo Katsuki, previously a

sidekick of Endeavor's who'd split off to start his own agency with Kirishima Eijiro. The two young hero partners were standing in front of Izuku and Hitoshi. The explosive blond was holding a finger in the vigilante's face.

"I don't know how you tricked your way in here, but a quirkless dek—" "Don't c-c-call me that," Izuku said.

Aizawa's eyes widened—so that's where the vigilante's name came from. Of course Bakugo wouldn't recognize it for what it was; he was exclusively a limelight hero. As for Aizawa's husband choosing an obviously-cruel childhood nickname as his vigilante name... the pro hero hoped it was in defiance rather than agreement. From Izuku's stutter, it was clear the blond still had some power over him.

A protective instinct rolled over Aizawa but he still held back, knowing Izuku could handle himself —and that maybe this was something the younger man needed to handle himself.

"Who's dick did ya need to s—"

"I should have f-f-figured, Kacchan, that you'd still be as much of a bully as you were when we were kids. Number 57 in the hero rankings, yet number two in property damage, just after

Endeavor. Number one in being a p-p-piece of shit."

"What did you say?"

"Kats, calm down," Kirishima attempted to interject. "Don't you think you're taking this too far?" "I'll show you too far," the blond said. Bakugo cocked back a sparking fist and let it fly.

Before Aizawa could even turn on his quirk, Izuku was moving. A side step to the left, a smooth duck underneath the flying fist. A right leg kicked out to the side, directly in the path of Bakugo's power-stepping foot. Right hand making its way to the back of Bakugo's head, pushing it forward so that the blond had no choice but to trip over the outstretched leg.

Bakugo went down—hard.

And Izuku was quickly on his back, holding the other man's arms painfully behind him. "You still start with a right hook; it makes you predictable. And you need to stop underestimating your opponents." The green-haired man stood up and brushed non-existent dust from the knees of his tuxedo pants.

Aizawa had never been so turned on in his life. He strode forward—paparazzi be damned—and dipped his husband into a searing, movie-worthy kiss before pulling apart. "Have I told you recently that I love you?"

"Yes, but I haven't gotten tired of hearing it yet."

As Kirishima led a still-pissed Bakugo away and the crowd dissipated, Hitoshi raised a hand. "I'm tired of hearing it. Aizawa-sensei, do you have any idea how many times he told me he was in love with you?"

"Hey, I am in love with him," Izuku complained. "Oh trust me, I know."

"So, Shinsou," Aizawa started. At the formal address the purple-haired man stood at attention, with an 'oh shit, that's his sensei voice' expression. "Care to tell me why you were just idly standing by while a pro hero was attacking my husband?"

Hitoshi relaxed. "Hilarious. As if we don't all know he could take me out thirty different ways before I could even open my mouth."

Aizawa smirked, hooking an arm around his husband's waist and dragging the small man against him. "Hot, isn't it."

"...there's no good way for me to answer that question, so I abstain."

"Smart man. Oh shit, Hitoshi, hide me."

Both Hitoshi and Izuku looked around for the person who'd inspired that reaction, but neither appeared to see who it was. That's because neither of the young men were looking low enough.

"Ah, Aizawa-kun, just the man I was looking for. And Shinsou-kun and Izuku too, hello."

If the purple-haired hero was surprised that the erstwhile principal was on a first-name basis with the vigilante, he (wisely) didn't say anything.

"Do we need to do this now?" Aizawa didn't whine, absolutely not. "Would you prefer we do it during staff meeting?"

"...Hitoshi, it was nice to see you, but—"

"No worries," the young hero said with a smirk, making Aizawa wonder how much Izuku had told him when he was talking with Tsukauchi. "Denki's probably looking for me anyway. Izuku, I'll text you later so you've got my number too. See ya, sensei." Hitoshi left, blending back into the background. Leaving Aizawa trapped between his boss and his husband.

"Hi, rat dad." Shit-eating grin. "Rat son." Matching grin.

Oh god, somebody needed to call Bakugo back so he had something to hit. Izuku and Nezu were undoubtedly pure chaos together.

"So, Aizawa-kun. I already talked with Izuku, but I have a question for you."

The pro hero steeled himself. This question would be make-or-break-it in getting Nezu's blessing. He couldn't afford to get the answer wrong. Before he could spiral further, the mammal asked his question.

"Do you love him?"

It was not a question Aizawa had been expecting—it wasn't even in the same hemisphere. And it was incredibly easy to answer. "More than anything."

"Perfect. Then you might both be interested in knowing this, but there's an old law on the books, a law so old as to be nearly forgotten. But where a non-licensed hero—that's a 'vigilante' in modern terms—is joined in marriage to a licensed hero, there's an alternative path to licensure; essentially, a two-year-long apprenticeship involving joint patrols and provisional licenses."

"Are you shitting me right now? Dad, please tell me you're not fucking with me." The green- haired boy's lower lip quivered.

"I am not, as you put it, shitting you."

"Sir—if this is something Izuku wants, there is absolutely nothing I'd love more."

At that, overwhelmed both by the possibility and by the night they'd had, Izuku let loose a few tears. "Thank you." It wasn't clear who he was thanking. Both, probably.

"You are very welcome," the principal said, clapping his paws. "And I expect the two of you for dinner on, hmm, let's say the third Sunday of next month."

"You cook?" the black-haired hero blurted out. He got the feeling that he would soon know a lot more about his boss.

"Of course not; I can barely hold your human chopsticks. I meant to say that I will be coming over for dinner."

Aizawa blue-screened at the thought of his boss in his house. But then again, it had been years that Izuku had lived there before the hero moved in. Nezu had doubtless been there many times before.

"Can't wait," he lied.

"Mmhmm." The rat bastard had always been one of the only people (only beings?) able to sense when Aizawa wasn't telling the truth, Tsukauchi's quirk notwithstanding.

"Nezu, if you'll excuse us," Izuku interrupted. "They're about to start up the music and I have a new husband I haven't had an official 'first dance' with yet." With a nod to his pseudo-father, the vigilante grabbed his husband's hand and tugged him away.

"'Zuku, I swear if you try to get me to dirty dance—" "Don't worry, loverboy, we'll save that for the second date."

Over the next few hours, the pair demonstrated how years of parkour and, in Aizawa's case, gymnastics and ballet, translated to the dancefloor.

Omake (Bonus Epilogue)

"I can't believe I survived that."

Izuku snuggled against Aizawa's back as the taller man was washing dishes. "He's not that bad," the vigilante said.

"He doesn't sign your paychecks."

"I sign my own paychecks."

"You know what I mean." A peaceful beat passed as the pro hero rinsed out a bowl.

"Thank you for doing this."

"He's practically your father, of course I'm willing to have him come over for dinner once in a while. It wasn't as bad as I was thinking. Just, let's not do it every week."

"Oh, absolutely not."

Aizawa felt the younger man shift from where he was plastered to the man's back, scarred arms wrapped around his broad chest. It was clear there was something the vigilante wanted to say, but Aizawa wasn't going to push. Luckily, he didn't have to wait for long.

"I think I'm ready for our second date?" Izuku's voice was uncharacteristically unsure.

"Our what?" For a second, Aizawa wasn't sure what the younger man was referring to—and then, he remembered their ongoing innuendo jokes. "Oh! Do you think you're ready, or are you ready?" He stayed still.

"I'm ready."

The pro hero turned around and captured the apprentice-pro hero's lips in a kiss. "We can discuss it later, but that would make me very happy."

"I love you." "I know."

"Asshole."

"I love you too."