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“Ow, fuck!” Katsuki yelled, a sharp pain shooting through his foot. He stopped to yank it back, glaring at a red-faced Deku who blinked at him for a second in confusion, before slowly letting his eyes travel down to the injured foot and back up again.
“Sorry,” Deku mumbled, his words a little slurred, before attempting to move again, one hand pulling Katsuki’s waist, completely out-of-time with the music. “Didn’t see you there…”
Katsuki scowled. “I’m right in front of you! What the hell else is there to see?” he demanded, only to be met with a goofy smile in return. At this point he was almost regretting not taking the Kirishima route and downing whatever glass had been placed in his hand, before making his way into to the dance floor to do…. whatever the fuck kind of death convulses he was attempting right now.
Katsuki hadn’t even wanted to come to the wedding. He didn’t know the bride or groom, only that one of ‘em – he couldn’t even remember which – was some old friend of Fatgum, who’d invited Kirishima, who’d decided he didn’t wanna crash this place alone and brought the whole group along.
And Deku.
The hell did he have to invite Deku?
The shitty nerd in question ducked a little in an attempt to turn, headbutting into Katsuki’s chest. He gritted his teeth. “Sorry,” Deku mumbled again, but with a slight laugh to it this time, and Katsuki didn’t know why the hell that made his jaw unclenched suddenly.
Fuck, he didn’t even know why he was dancing with this guy in the first place.
Well, that part was a lie. If he hadn’t let the (drunkenly assertive) Deku drag him onto the dance floor, then Mina – who’d been eyeing him for the better part of an hour with that mischievous expression – would’ve taken the opportunity to pounce and do it instead, and there was no way in hell he was gonna let her twirl him around or attempt to dip him, only to drop him and laugh her ass off. He knew it would happen, because it had before. She’d found his angry reaction amusing.
Part of him was wondering if Deku would’ve had the courage to ask for a dance if he was still sober. Years ago, the answer would’ve been a flat hell no, but now he wasn’t so sure. Deku these days was different, but it wasn’t just him. They were different. If he’d told his younger self he’d let those guys drag him here, he’d let Deku pull him by the hand and try to spin him and step on his foot for the fifth fucking time in a row –
He didn’t even know what the response would be. The idea was so far-fetched he probably wouldn’t have had one.
“Your eyebrows are mad,” Deku informed him, a slight pout on his face, stopping to poke him right between them. “You should… get a drink. Makes you all loose.”
The pout dropped, and he laughed again.
“No way,” came Katsuki’s immediate response. He wasn’t gonna make an ass of himself in a room full of strangers. He was cautious like that. He’d relaxed enough to drink before, but only around people he knew, and in private. Because drunk, he was –
Emotional.
And he didn’t want a bunch of nosy fucks he didn’t even know to hear him sobbing out his woes.
“Shhhhh.” Deku reached up to begin awkwardly petting his hair with one hand. Katsuki fought the urge to bite at it. “I’ll calm you, then. Listen, it’s a slow song.”
“It’s not a – oh.” The music was changing, and yeah, he was right, whatever was playing now was the slow-dance type. “Whatever, I don’t need calming. You’re the one the needs a time out, you’re fucking wobbling.”
“Am not,” Deku replied defensively, while wobbling. He leant in, their chests together as he managed to successfully spin them, slower, trying to match the music. Over his shoulder, Katsuki could see Kirishima and Mina attempting the same thing, before knocking into a nearby table. Kaminari and Sero, who occupied said table, cheered them on.
What a mess.
“What do you think the press are gonna say if they find out the number two hero was drunk off his ass, huh?” Katsuki asked him, and for some weird reason – probably exhaustion clouding his brain, preventing explicable behaviour – his lips tilted slightly up. A smirk, really, not a smile, but whatever.
Deku made a face and shook his head. “Number one,” he corrected, sounding totally certain of himself. “I totally kick your ass, Kacchan. I totally – I totally won.”
“You haven’t won anything, dumbass, you’re barely standing.” It was a good thing the floor was a lot clearer than it had been earlier, leaving less people for Deku to accidentally crash them into. The couples that were still present mostly swayed in place for the slow dance, unless they were the two idiots who’d accompanied him, who’d now taken to attempting something Macarena-like. “I’ll let it slide, ‘cause you clearly have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Do too.”
“Do fucking not.”
“Do too, Kacchan. I’m completely conci- conscien- I’m fine.”
Hell, Deku wasn’t even a lightweight. He really must have drunk a lot at this point, and now that stupid goofy grin was back and he was fucking giggling as they spun again. Whatever made him so happy about them failing at something so basic as a simple slow dance was completely lost on Katsuki, but it wasn’t too bad, he supposed. Better than Deku bawling his eyes out, which is exactly what he’d done earlier at reception, during the vows. And Katsuki knew the stupid nerd knew those guys about as well as he himself did.
It was still pretty weird having someone so close, although the group of assholes he hung around with liked to pile up on him whenever they got a chance. And he guessed they’d been close before, sharing the same bed as kids, although that felt like lifetimes ago. He remembered vaguely waking up to Deku crying because he’d grabbed onto his hair in his sleep and tugged too hard.
Kinda wondered what it would feel like if he touched his hair now.
He was dragged out of those thoughts by a kick from his own brain, and Deku’s eyes boring into him, waiting for a response – to which he just snorted. “You just love arguing with me tonight, huh, shitty nerd?”
That was apparently hilarious, at least to Deku, who threw his head back and laughed, causing Katsuki’s fingers to dig into his sides. The sound rung across the room even over the music, with some people even turning to look for its source. Deku remained oblivious to their stares, instead swaying further into Katuki, his fingers finding purchase in the front of his jacket as his head rested against Katsuki’s chest.
Katsuki’s body tensed up. “What the he-“
Another laugh from Deku cut him off, eyes beginning to close as he tried to sway them in place to the music, a soft smile emerging on his face. “Yeah,” he said, tone becoming quieter, fingers gripping his jacket tighter, “love….”
Katsuki swallowed thickly, his chest weird and tight and pained, and not just because Deku had decided it was a fucking pillow, apparently. The guy was practically sleeping on him by this point, his body heavy against Katsuki – no surprise, Deku was made of muscle – the music drowning out the sound of his breaths. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the softness of Deku’s face relaxed like that, the tingling in his body from the words earlier.
Well. Word.
It was late.
“Let’s get you home.”
He ignored the mumbled protests of Deku and the bitching of the others to stay, gathering their stuff and loading Deku into the car. The drive passed in silence, the other practically asleep anyway, and Katsuki ended up carrying his ass to his apartment, Deku happily curled into his chest. Maybe he made sure not to jostle him on the way up, and maybe he gently laid him down on the bed once they were inside, and maybe he tucked him in just slightly. Maybe.
Katsuki turned to go, before hearing a sleepy voice call out to him. “Kacchan,” Deku mumbled, one arm extending from the sheets, accompanied by only his mess of curls. “Stay.”
Katsuki’s mind flashed back to the words earlier, that weird feeling back on his chest as he glanced down at Deku, who blinked back, a tiny smile finding its way onto his sleepy features.
As he laid down on the futon he’d managed to locate and lay out beside Deku’s bed, Deku’s hand fell over the edge to rest on his hair. The other would be hung over as hell tomorrow, and Katsuki knew he’d be the one to be making breakfast, since Deku was a basic cook at the best of times. Still, as he closed his eyes, Deku’s fingers curling into the blond strands on his his head, he figured that stupid-ass wedding, that stupid-ass dance, hadn’t been so bad after all.