The knock came sharp and insistent, three quick raps that shattered the cocoon of morning stillness. Izuku flinched against Katsuki's chest, his eyes snapping open, the warm haze of contentment retreating like a wave pulled back from shore. "Don't move," Katsuki growled, his arm tightening around Izuku's waist, voice rough with sleep and irritation. "They'll go away."
The knock came again. Harder. Followed by a muffled voice—Eijiro. "Bakubro? Midoribro? You guys in there? We're getting worried—you didn't show for brunch and your phones are off."
Mina's voice joined in, higher and edged with concern. "Izuku? Katsuki? Everything okay?"
Izuku sighed, the weight of the real world settling onto his shoulders. He pressed a soft kiss to Katsuki's collarbone, then eased out of his grip. "We have to answer," he murmured.
Katsuki grunted, but he sat up, his eyes finding Izuku's in the dim light, and the worry in them softened at the look they shared. "Fine. But they better have brought coffee."
They put on the white hotel robes, the fabric cool and crisp against their skin, the sash tied loosely at their waists. Izuku ran a hand through his tangled curls, trying to tame them, while Katsuki just raked his fingers through his spikes once, unconcerned. Izuku opened the door to find Eijiro and Mina standing in the hallway, faces tight with worry.
"Oh thank god," Mina breathed, her shoulders sagging. "We've been calling for an hour. Your phones went straight to voicemail. We thought something happened."
"Can we come in?" Eijiro asked, his red eyes scanning them both, taking in the rumpled robes, the slight flush on their cheeks, the way Izuku's hand had somehow found Katsuki's. His expression shifted from worry to dawning comprehension, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Or—wait. Did something happen? Like, something good?"
Mina caught on a second later, her jaw dropping, then a squeal escaping her lips. "Oh my god. Oh my god, you two—"
Izuku's cheeks burned, but he didn't let go of Katsuki's hand. He stepped back, pulling Katsuki with him, and gestured for them to enter. "It's—it's a long story. Come in. We'll explain."
Eijiro and Mina filed in, settling on the edge of the rumpled bed, their eyes sweeping over the scattered clothes—Izuku's shirt from last night, Katsuki's slacks—before fixing on the couple. Izuku took a breath, then told them everything. The fake relationship, Ochako's smug confrontation, Himiko's knowing looks, Neito's interruption, the confessions under the archway. The words poured out, and with each sentence, the weight of the secret lifted a little more. "And it wasn't ever really fake," he finished, his voice soft, his eyes meeting Katsuki's. "Not for me. Not since I was a kid."
Katsuki's hand tightened on his, and he picked up the thread, his voice low and steady. "And after the wedding, we came back here. And we talked. And I told him I loved him. And he said it back. And now we're—" He stopped, a rare uncertainty flickering across his face. "We're together. For real. Not fake. Not for anyone else. Just us."
Eijiro let out a whoop, surging forward to clap Katsuki on the shoulder, his grin so wide it looked like it might split his face. "Finally! Fucking finally! I've been watching you two dance around each other for years, man. I thought I was gonna die of old age before you idiots figured it out."
Mina was already crying, tears streaming down her cheeks as she grabbed Izuku's hands. "I'm so happy for you," she sniffled. "Both of you. You deserve this. You deserve each other."
Izuku's throat tightened, and he blinked back his own tears, squeezing her fingers. "Thank you, Mina. That means—it means everything." He glanced at Katsuki, saw the same sheen in his red eyes, the same raw emotion he was trying to hide behind a scowl. "We were gonna tell everyone later. But since you're here first..."
Katsuki cleared his throat, a gruff sound that barely masked the crack in his voice. "Oi, Ei. You can tell that idiot Kaminari he lost the bet. Shoto was the one who guessed right."
Eijiro's face contorted with surprise, then laughter. "Wait—Shoto? The kid? How the hell did he know?"
Katsuki shrugged, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Dunno. Kid's observant, I guess. Said something about the way I looked at Izu. Didn't think anything of it at the time."
Mina was already pulling out her phone. "I have to text the group chat. This is too good. Denki's gonna lose his mind—he was so smug thinking he won.”
Izuku laughed, a bright, unburdened sound that felt like it came from a place he'd forgotten existed. He leaned into Katsuki's side, feeling the warmth of his body, the solid anchor of his arm sliding around his waist. For a moment, surrounded by their friends, the morning light painting the room gold, it felt like the world had finally tilted into place. "Please don't," he said, his voice light. "Let's at least let them enjoy the brunch first. We'll tell everyone tonight. Over dinner. The whole story." He met Katsuki's eyes, and the promise in them made his heart swell. "The real story."
Eijiro nodded, still grinning, and pulled Mina to her feet. "Alright, alright. We'll leave you lovebirds alone. But you owe us details later. All of them." He pointed a finger at Katsuki, mock-stern. "And Bakubro? If you hurt him, I'll—"
"You won't have to," Katsuki cut him off, his voice flat, but his eyes soft. "I'm not gonna hurt him. I'd rather die." Izuku's hand found his, their fingers lacing together, and the gesture said everything words couldn't.
Mina sniffled again, then dragged Eijiro out the door, the last thing they heard before it clicked shut being her whisper: "They're so cute, I'm gonna combust."
The door closed, and the silence settled around them, warm and full. Izuku turned to Katsuki, his smile so wide it hurt, and Katsuki was already looking at him with that unfiltered, unguarded tenderness that had once been a secret and was now a gift.
"Well," Izuku said, his voice a happy exhale. "That went better than I expected." Katsuki snorted, his hands finding Izuku's waist, pulling him close.
"Told you. Nothing to be scared of. They're our friends. They were gonna find out anyway." He pressed his forehead to Izuku's, his breath warm against his lips. "And even if they weren't okay with it—I'd still choose you. Every time."
Izuku's answer was a kiss, soft and slow, a quiet promise that echoed the one from the night before. When they pulled apart, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I love you, Kacchan."
Katsuki's thumb traced his cheek, wiping away a single tear that escaped. "I love you too, Izu. Now come on—let's shower. We've got a long day ahead of us. And I'm not spending it smelling like sex and cum."
Izuku laughed, letting himself be pulled toward the bathroom, the world outside the door waiting but not demanding. They had time. They had each other. And for the first time in his life, Izuku believed that was enough.
The restaurant was a small French bistro tucked between two galleries, its amber glow spilling onto the cobblestones. Izuku's hand stayed locked with Katsuki's as they pushed through the door, the warmth of the room hitting them along with the low murmur of conversation. Their friends were already gathered at a long table near the back—Eijiro waving, Mina's pink curls bouncing, Denki mid-laugh with Hitoshi slouched beside him, and Touya sprawled in his chair like he owned the place, Shoto tucked against his side with a glass of water in front of him.
"Finally!" Denki called out, his grin electric. "We thought you two got lost in the city. Or each other." He waggled his eyebrows, and Hitoshi elbowed him without looking up from his menu.
Izuku's cheeks heated, but he didn't let go of Katsuki's hand. They slid into the two empty chairs at the head of the table, and he felt the weight of six pairs of eyes on them—curious, knowing, waiting. Mina was already leaning forward, her yellow eyes glittering. "So. Spill."
Izuku took a breath, his fingers tightening around Katsuki's under the table. The warmth of the restaurant, the clink of glasses, the expectant faces of his friends—it all felt surreal, like a dream he was still waiting to wake from. "It started before we even got here," he began, his voice quiet but steady. "When Ochako sent me the invitation. I panicked. I couldn't face her alone, not after—" He paused, swallowing hard. "Not after everything. So I asked Kacchan to pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for the weekend. Just so she wouldn't think I was still pining for her."
Katsuki's jaw tightened, but his thumb traced slow circles on Izuku's knuckles, grounding them both. "And I said yes because I'm an idiot who can't say no to him," he muttered, but the words held no heat, only the raw truth of years of longing.
Touya let out a low whistle, his blue eyes sharp. "So it was all an act? Until it wasn't?"
"It was never an act," Izuku said, and the words came out fiercer than he expected. "Not for me. I've loved him since we were kids. I just never had the guts to say it." He glanced at Katsuki, saw the vulnerability flickering in his red eyes. "We finally told each other the truth. Under the archway, after the ceremony."
Denki's hand shot up, his grin wide. "Okay but the important part—who kissed who first?"
"Shut up, Dunce Face," Katsuki growled, but there was no venom in it. "It was mutual. We both—" He stopped, cleared his throat. "We both said it at the same time. Probably."
Hitoshi snorted, nudging Denki. "Told you. They're disgustingly synchronized."
Izuku's cheeks burned, but he pushed forward. "But it almost didn't happen. Because Neito was there." He felt the table go still, the energy shifting.
Mina's eyes widened, her pink curls bouncing as she leaned in. "Wait, wait. They invited Monoma? To their wedding? Why would they—"
"Because Ochako is a petty bitch who couldn't believe that I moved on," Izuku said, and the bitterness in his voice surprised even him. "She cornered me after the ceremony. Told me she knew our relationship was fake. That she was happy for me—like she was gloating. She thought I was still obsessed with her."
Eijiro's face darkened, a rare anger flickering behind his usually sunny eyes. "She actually said that to you?"
Izuku's jaw tightened, his hand still locked with Katsuki's beneath the table. "She said it to my face. That she knew we were faking. That she was happy for me, like she was throwing me a bone." His voice dropped, bitter and cold. "She and Himiko invited Neito because they thought I was still obsessed with her. They thought Kacchan's feelings for me were pathetic—that he'd jump at the chance to be with anyone who wasn't me. They didn't care that Neito destroyed him. They didn't care about anything except proving they were right."
The table went silent. Denki's grin had evaporated, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Hitoshi's violet eyes had sharpened to something dangerous, his usual languid posture gone rigid.
Touya let out a low, humorless laugh, his blue eyes glinting like chips of ice. "So they played puppet master. Fucked with both your heads. For fun."
"They thought the whole thing was a joke," Izuku said, his voice cracking. "They thought we were both pathetic. That we'd been lying about everything this whole time. But the only lie was the timeline—that we'd been together before this weekend. Everything else—" He squeezed Katsuki's hand, feeling the tremor run through him. "Everything else was real. It's always been real."
Shoto spoke up, his voice quiet but cutting through the heavy air. "She cornered me too. Asked if I thought you two looked happy together. Told me I'd know when a couple was faking because I watched Touya pretend to hate me for years." He paused, his mismatched eyes steady. "I told her she was jealous. She didn't like that."
Mina's hand found Eijiro's under the table, her yellow eyes wet with anger. "That's—that's not just petty. That's cruel. They set you both up to fail. They wanted you to hurt." She looked at Katsuki, her voice breaking. "And they used Monoma of all people. They know what he did to you."
Katsuki's jaw was a hard line, his voice rough when he finally spoke. "It doesn't matter. It didn't work. I've got Izu. That's all I need." He turned to Izuku, his red eyes soft despite the anger simmering beneath. "And I don't give a shit what Ochako or anyone else thinks. What we have is real. It's the only real thing I've ever had."
Denki set down his fork, his expression unusually serious. "So the bet—does that mean you two were together before this weekend? Or—" He trailed off, confused. "I'm lost. Who won?"
Katsuki let out a rough exhale, almost a laugh. "Shoto won, Pikachu. He guessed it’d happen this weekend." He glanced at Shoto, a grudging respect in his voice. "Kid's too observant for his own good."
Shoto's lips curved into a small smile. "I just knew it’d be a big event. This weekend just made sense."
Touya snorted, pulling Shoto closer. "And you didn't tell me? I could've won money on that." He pressed a kiss to Shoto's temple, his piercings glinting. "Kidding. Mostly."
Izuku felt the tension crack, a laugh escaping him despite everything. He turned to Katsuki, his eyes wet but bright. Izuku's hand tightened around Katsuki's under the table, the warmth of the restaurant a distant hum compared to the fire in his chest. "Yeah, it's true," he said, his voice still raw but steadier now, a fragile smile tugging at his lips. "Denki... you owe Shoto the pot."
Denki's face collapsed like a building in a controlled demolition. "No. No fucking way. You're joking." He looked at Katsuki for an out, but Katsuki just smirked, a silent confirmation that hit harder than any words. "Goddammit!" Denki whined, yanking his wallet from his back pocket and slapping a crumpled wad of euros onto the table toward Shoto. "That was my souvenir money! I was gonna buy a miniature Eiffel Tower!"
Hitoshi snorted, reaching over to smooth the cash into a neat pile. "I told you not to bet against my intel. You never listen."
Hitoshi slid it across to Shoto, who tucked it away with a calm, almost bored expression. The table erupted in scattered laughter, a brief release valve for the pressure that had built.
But the laughter died the moment Mina set her glass down with a sharp, deliberate click against the wood. Her voice, when it came, was stripped of every ounce of her usual playful warmth. "Okay. Enough joking." Her yellow eyes swept the table, settling on Izuku with a blazing intensity. "I can't believe they did that to you. To either of you. That's not just petty. That's fucking *cruel*."
She ran a hand through her pink curls, a tremor in her fingers that betrayed the anger coiling in her chest. "Ochako and I have been friends for years. We've shared clothes, cried over boys, celebrated everything. But this? She crossed a line she can't uncross." Her voice hardened, the words coming out like shards of glass. "She was supposed to be *happy* for you, Izuku. Instead, she tried to prove you were still pining for her by parading out the man who destroyed Katsuki. I'm done. I don't care if it makes the group awkward. I'm done with both of them."
Eijiro's hand found hers on the table, his voice low and rough. "I'm with Mina. That wasn't a joke. It was a setup. Friends don't do that."
Hitoshi nodded slowly, his violet eyes sharp. "Same. I'm out."
Denki, still grumbling about his lost cash, muttered, "Yeah, that's foul. I don't care how much I liked Ochako in high school. That's too far."
Everyone turned to Touya, who had been leaning back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass with a lazy, deliberate motion. He let the silence stretch, the weight of the table pressing down on him. Finally, he shrugged, his blue eyes hard. "Toga's my best friend. She's been my ride or die since we were kids. I love her like family." He took a long sip of wine. "But this? Using Monoma as a pawn? She knew what he did to Blasty. She knew, and she did it anyway. I can't cosign that. I'm not picking her side on this one."
Shoto shifted beside him, his mismatched eyes steady as they found Izuku. "We're with you. Whatever you need." He paused, his voice dropping to something quieter, more intimate. "You two kept our secret. The least we can do is stand by you when it matters."
Mina's head snapped toward him, her curls bouncing. "What secret?"
Denki leaned forward, his earlier devastation momentarily forgotten, curiosity burning in his yellow eyes. "Yeah, what are you hiding, Half 'n Half?"
Touya let out a low, humorless laugh, his piercings catching the amber light as he grinned. He didn't hedge. He didn't soften. "He means the fucking. Me and Shoto. We're together."
Shoto, completely unbothered, added, "Romantically. We're brothers, and we're in love. That's the secret."
The table went completely silent. Denki's mouth hung open, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Hitoshi's hand stopped mid-reach for his glass, his usual composure cracking into a wide-eyed stare. Eijiro's brow furrowed, processing, his brain audibly clicking through gears. Mina just blinked, once, twice.
"Oh," Denki finally managed, his voice squeaking like a teenager going through puberty. "Oh, *that* kind of secret." He looked at Hitoshi, eyes wide. "Did you know about this?"
Hitoshi shook his head slowly, his voice flat with shock. "Dude. I'm observant, but I'm not *that* observant."
Eijiro rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he'd never broken. "I mean... that's... definitely a surprise." He looked at Touya, then at Shoto, then back at Touya. "But, uh... you guys seem solid. So... I guess that's what matters?"
Mina nodded, a slow, deliberate motion, her yellow eyes softening from shock to something like acceptance. "Yeah. It's weird. I'm not gonna lie and say it isn't. But you're part of this group now. And weird is kind of our brand."
Katsuki, who had been silent through the whole exchange, finally spoke, his rough voice cutting through the lingering tension like a blade through smoke. "Enough." He looked at Touya, then at Shoto, then let his gaze sweep the table. "We all have shit the rest of the world doesn't need to know. The point is, we trusted each other with it. That's what matters." He squeezed Izuku's hand, his grip grounding them both. "This stupid, chaotic table full of freaks is my family. And I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks about any of us."
Denki raised his glass, a tired but genuine grin breaking through his shell-shocked expression. "To the weirdest fucking wedding weekend ever. And to the best damn support group a guy could ask for."
Glasses clinked around the table, the sound ringing like a promise. Izuku felt the warmth of Katsuki's hand in his, the solid weight of his friends surrounding him. The betrayal from Ochako and Himiko still stung, a raw ache in his chest, but it was distant now—a scar forming over a wound that was already healing. This table, these people, this love—this was his home.