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It’s late. Probably around three-something in the morning but Shouto doesn’t bother checking. Time means absolutely nothing to him right now. There’s only one thing that matters at this moment; one person to be exact. And that person is the man drunkenly laughing and cackling at nothing in particular right next to him, arms entwined around Shouto’s left to hold himself up. The man, who as of eight hours ago, became his husband. He’s married to Bakugou Katsuki, the love of his whole damn life. Finally.
Shouto’s fairly drunk himself, the evening festivities having extended longer than he’d expected, though the later company had been an intimate gathering. The ride here sobered them both up a little, but him definitely more so than his boyf–husband. His husband.
He half walks half carries Katsuki and himself up the front stairs of their apartment building, waving a goodnight and thanks to Momo who’d volunteered to drive them home instead of taking a cab after the wedding reception and private after-party with just friends and family.
They make it in and Shouto immediately drags them both to the elevator and presses the button, fondly shaking his head as he watches Katsuki continue to lose it, laughter sputtering to short gasps before starting up again. He’s not sure which hilarious incident of the night he’s currently replaying in his head, or maybe he’s still laughing at Shouto’s ridiculous joke in Momo’s car about now being Katsuki’s balls and chain. Even Shouto knows that it’s a terrible joke but apparently to drunk-Katsuki it’s the funniest thing ever.
When the elevator opens he nudges his husband to step in and the guffaws finally seem to putter out in favor of concentrating on his steps. And on Shouto.
Shouto presses the button to the seventh floor, aware that Katsuki’s eyes are acutely trained on his face now. He turns to meet the fierce gaze and his husband’s eyes are so, so intense. And filled with so much affection, no hint of his current state of inebriation in sight. It hits Shouto then, that after the whole day of celebrating them, this is the first time all day they’re alone. The beginning of a new chapter of their lives together starts freaking right now. And gosh does that thought get his heart racing.
The metal box makes its ascent, but the swooping feeling in Shouto’s gut has nothing to do with that. Katsuki’s lips are on his, warm and wet, a hint of the whiskey he drank last being transferred to Shouto’s tastebuds. He’s not sure who’s holding who up at this point but both their arms are wrapped around each other, their respective suits–Shouto’s a pale blue and Katsuki’s a dark navy– wrinkling more under the aggressive caresses and desperate grips on each other as they make out in the elevator like they’re teenagers all over again. Fuck, he hopes that this never changes between them.
There’s a ding and the elevator door opens and they reluctantly pull apart, the look on his husband’s face so close to convincing Shouto’s rational mind to just hush up so that they could just consummate their marriage right here and now, any sense of public decency be damned. But no. No, he’ll take care of his husband way better than that. It’s the least he deserves.
They stumble out together, Katsuki pulling their apartment key out of his pocket on the way, and immediately sticking it into the lock with such precision given his state that Shouto’s impressed. And way more turned on. Shit.
He smashes their lips together as Katsuki turns the doorknob, his husband letting out a slightly surprised noise and then chuckles against Shouto’s mouth at his impatience. So what if he can’t wait to get his husband naked and needy on their bed. It’s their wedding night. Sue him.
Despite having opened their door, Shouto has Katsuki pressed against the doorframe, eagerly licking the inside of his mouth, anticipatory of what’s to come. It’s not like they haven’t fucked already, they’ve had sex plenty to say the least. But tonight feels new somehow. And he’s excited, the sleepiness from when they’d left the venue now completely having dissipated.
“Can’t wait to have all this, hmm, Icyhot?” The harsh whisper combined with Katsuki taking Shouto’s hand down his front and to his clothed erection, and the old nickname from their UA and early relationship days has Shouto quaking.
His husband is pulling him inside by the shirt and Shouto is about to follow past the doorway without resistance when a thought strikes him.
“Mm, Katsuki, wait.”
Lips pull back and deep red eyes, half-hooded, look at him. Katsuki waits as asked.
“Lemme carry you,” Shouto says, gently tugging Katsuki back onto the entryway.
“What? We fuckin’ against the wall? Well sure if–“
“No–I mean, we can if you want but– that’s not what I meant.”
Katsuki quirks a brow. He’s definitely sobered up if he’s able to do that, Shouto thinks distractedly.
“It’s our wedding night,” he explains. “I should carry you in my arms past the threshold and into our home.”
Katsuki’s cheeks start turning a pretty pink. “The fuck?! You talking about carrying me fucking bridal style??”
Shouto nods.
“I’m not your fucking blushing bride, you dumbass!”
Well, the color on his husband’s cheeks try to tell a different story. “No, but you’re my blushing groom,” he responds easily.
Said groom only flushes deeper along with the scowl that forms. “Fuck you!”
“That’s the plan.”
“…we’re fucking Japanese, we don’t do this shit!” He tries for one last weak argument.
“Please?”
Katsuki huffs, mildly annoyed and somewhat amused even though he tries to hide it. He crosses his arms and stares up at Shouto and Shouto stares back. Their frequent ‘ let’s see who can be the more stubborn asshole this time’ contest; they both know who wins during times like these.
After about a solid minute and a half Katsuki sighs, defeated. But he doesn’t need to worry, Shouto will absolutely give him all the wins he wants in just the next hour alone.
“Fine you fucking idiot.” Strong arms come to wrap around Shouto’s neck, Shouto placing a hand to his husband’s lower back and the other readies itself to hold his legs. With a swift little jump, he’s got Katsuki in his arms, still blushing wildly but grinning nonetheless. Shouto kisses him.
“Hurry up, fucker,” the words are growled into his mouth. “Gotta ruin you for making me do this.” And funnily enough, Shouto is positively okay with the idea.
Lips still connected, Shouto takes a small step forward, kisses turning more fervent, teeth coming out to play, the noises, gasps, breaths– thump
“Watch the legs, jackass! That fucking hurt!” That definitely did not hurt; Katsuki’s been stabbed almost to death and even punched in the face by All Might for fuck’s sake. But Shouto mumbles a sorry nonetheless, being a little more careful as he carries his husband into their home, returning to their previous fervent actions as soon as Katsuki uses his foot to shut their front door.
When Shouto walks into their bedroom and drops Katsuki on the mattress, the ferocious grin and gleam in those red eyes have him swallowing thickly in nervous excitement. Shouto may have been the one to carry Katsuki in and he may be the one hovering over his husband right now, but something tells him that the rest of the night is no longer in his hands.
Perfect.