Chapter Text
The vial of salve felt slippery in Katsuki’s hands. He’d grabbed it on impulse, the same impulse that had pushed him to steal it from the infirmary, and he was trying to hold on to it like it was the anchor that was keeping him from going completely mad.
It wasn’t working. Anyone would’ve been able to see that Her Majesty's brilliant plan to rectify their son’s way wasn’t working, not when the weeks passed and the snow melted and that dirty little thing of a boy kept getting dragged in to get punished.
Katsuki wondered how long it would take for his mother to give up. Would she ever realize that this had gone way beyond her grasp?
The cane snapped against skin brutally, heavier than usual. There was a frown in the Queen’s face; she administered the whippings like her own position depended on them, like it was her personal goal to rip as many screams from Deku’s throat as she could.
Katsuki held the vial tightly, and he forced himself to breathe through the ghost of pain that twisted at the base of his spine with every sobbing moan, and he waited.
The process had taken the tinge of a sickly, fucked up routine. Katsuki wasn’t one to hope for many things, but whenever he was called and he saw Deku’s scarred skin and the fresh welts that his mother laid on him with a viciousness that felt purposeful, he hoped that he would never get used to it. Whenever he thought more than a second about his part in it, nausea swirled in his stomach laced with guilt that never really left him, but he couldn’t make himself stop.
All he could do was sneak shameful looks, each wail stabbing further into his heart, the salve sloshing in the heavy jar that stayed cold no matter how sweaty his hands got.
When his mother’s heavy steps resonated on their way out, his body moved before his mind could catch up with it. He felt frankly ridiculous, stretching out his hand without a word, unable to meet Deku’s eyes from where he was standing up and fixing his clothing.
“Hey,” Deku said first, like he usually did. He let out a little laugh that got cut off by a sob, as he tried his best to clean the tears and the snot from his face.
He was never ashamed of crying, and Katsuki had come to the conclusion that he envied him for that.
“S’ that for me?” he continued.
There was a knot the size of a boulder in Katsuki’s throat.
“Soothing salve,” he managed to answer after a second of awkwardness. He waved it closer. “I thought–maybe you’d want–never mind, it’s stupid.”
For a moment, Deku’s face fell blank, as if processing what was hearing, and then the sky opened up in his face.
He beamed up at him. “Kacchan, thank you! This is really thoughtful of you.”
“Should’ve thought about it a long time ago, I’m an idiot.”
“Thank you, really! I bet this is the real good stuff, for royals only,” Deku said, eyeing the bottle up and down.
That tiny remark made shame taste hot and bitter in Katsuki’s throat.
“Our healer makes them, they’re supposed to be the real deal, yeah,” he huffed. The gesture felt so pointless, so inconsequential somehow; but then Deku gasped as if he had gotten a sudden idea and lifted his robes back up.
Katsuki wasn’t used to seeing him so up close, as the regal steps that led to the throne always made him stand a good distance from it. The sight almost made him recoil. Gods, how many fucking times had Katsuki done this to him? How many welts had that awful cane left on him?
Deku was saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. There were old, yellowing bruises, and the more recent ones that covered the full scale of purpling blue and faded into green, and there were scars here and there where the whip had broken the skin and drawn blood, and the fresh ones, the ones his mother had given him not five minutes ago, red and angry where the contusions rose in thick bands.
“Kacchan?”
There were barely any traces of tears left in Deku’s voice. He sounded giggly, almost shy. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that's fine, of course, I just didn’t want to take the jar home! I’m sure it will be necessary around here, but I didn’t want to overstep, of course! Also, I’m not sure I could really reach that spot, and–”
Katsuki’s head was spinning. “What–what did you ask?”
Deku laughed again, bashfully. “I was wondering if you would want to help me… apply it?”
Never in his life had Katsuki encountered an enigma that puzzled him as much as Deku. He still struggled to convince himself that the guy didn’t hate his guts for the torment Katsuki was directly putting him through, and now… he wanted him to…
“Gimme that,” he huffed before he had a chance to change his own mind.
Deku let out a tiny chirping sound before smiling again. “How… should we do this?” he wondered. “I can get on all fours, or we can–”
The meeting room was entirely empty save for them, but anyone could’ve walked in at any time. Katsuki didn’t give a shit. He kneeled down brusquely and fiddled to remove the cork from the vial.
Deku’s hands were immediately all over him, trying to push him away. “Please, you shouldn’t do this for me! The Prince shouldn’t be kneeling for me, oh, Gods, I’m gonna be in such trouble,” he moaned in despair.
“Shut up, Deku.”
“Please, you don’t need to–aahh!”
The scent of the healing salve filled Katsuki’s awareness as he placed his fingers over Deku’s bare ass for the first time. It was almost overwhelming, the physicality of it all, the little jump when he ran a finger over a fresh welt and the muscle that he could feel tightening under the skin.
He let out a satisfied sigh. It was almost cute, how quickly he stopped complaining as soon as Katsuki got to work. The sticky substance clung to each ridge, each inch of skin, and it didn’t take long for Katsuki to be sure that he could really rub it in and Deku would do his best to pretend that it didn’t hurt.
“I thought you were the Gods’ punishment for me at one point, you know?” he said after an indeterminate amount of time, his cheerfulness brittle.
Katsuki’s hand froze in place. He couldn’t find anything to say.
“Yeah, like… Maybe I did something bad and I had to atone like this?”
“You don’t have to atone for anything,” Katsuki managed to answer. “This bullshit ain’t your fault.”
He was sure that the words it’s mine were easy enough for Deku to decode from his silence.
Deku nodded, and the movement made muscle jump under Katsuki’s touch. “It’s okay,” he said, breathing out a rush of air. “I don’t hate you anymore.”
It was so easy for him to fucking talk. Another thing Katsuki envied about him, another field where he was hopelessly behind. He swallowed thickly, fascinated by the goosebumps under his fingertips and the strength weaved all through that vulnerable side Deku was never afraid to show.
The stone flooring dug harshly into Katsuki’s knees the longer he remained kneeling, but he fought against the instinct to move. There was no reason for him to pay attention to anything that wasn’t the bruised expanse of flesh in front of him and how to spread the salve as efficiently as possible.
He didn’t need to think about how Deku’s legs seemed to tremble when he dug his fingers more deeply, about his hands tightening into fists on his sides–he definitely didn’t need to think about the sudden rush of heat he was starting to feel pooling in his own crotch.
From up close Deku smelled like smoke and the faintest hint of sweat, the scent finding its way through the herbal tang of the lotion. Katsuki’s fingers raised goosebumps on the back of his thighs, where some stray hits had fallen, and every now and then a softer prod made him squeak.
He was real, his flesh solid and firm under his touch, and the awareness of his breathing made Katsuki want to scream.
Deku was flushed to a deep red when he turned around afterwards. He stammered a quick thanks as he rushed to pull his robes up and skittered away, leaving Katsuki kneeling alone on the hard floor for what felt like a long, long time.
Katsuki did not think he was a good person.
Whenever he dared to think about who he was for long enough he spiraled, so he tried his best to drown it out. He fought harder, and he ran faster–and, when darkness crept in through the massive arched windows of his room and he had nowhere to escape to, his hands inched lower and lower until he was losing himself in the momentary bliss of his own lust.
He couldn’t stop fucking thinking about Deku.
He saw his eyes flooding with tears that smeared all over his face when he tried to wipe them away. He felt the streaks of swelling skin under his fingertips, hot and feverish to the touch, and he saw him running away from him, his cheeks blotchy from his sobs, and he saw the way his face scrunched into a grimace of pain over and over again.
Katsuki’s fingers tightened around his cock. He didn’t want to consider why he got so worked up like this. There had always been nebulous fantasies; stolen glances, half-heard racy conversations, but nothing like him.
There was a slow-burning fire lit in his core, and for a blessed moment all he could care about was how to fuel it further. He ran a spit-slick palm over the head, closing his eyes tightly to escape the oppressiveness of the room that was always watching him.
And then Deku was giggling with that pretty smile of his and beckoning him closer. Katsuki wanted to touch him, he wanted to be kissed again, he wanted to grip his ass more tightly and earn more of those tiny gasps of pleasure.
He jerked his hand faster, and his free fingers tangled in the sheets. Sweat ran down his thighs and stuck to the fabric, but he was too close to bliss to care.
He tasted Deku on his tongue. He tasted like tears and he was melting into whines, just like that small sound that seemed to live in his throat after the tenth or twelfth hit of the cane, and he was whispering Kacchan, Kacchan, more, touch me more, Kacchan.
Katsuki was good at being silent; he’d learned early enough that sound carried surprisingly well in the echoing rooms. He gritted his teeth, the slick sound of skin against skin suddenly too much to handle, and Deku was crying even as his tongue slid in his mouth to prod around, and the snaps of the cane were too loud in Katsuki’s ears but not loud enough to drown Deku’s whimpers, and his hands were shaking as they closed into fists but this time bringing Katsuki closer in the process, and every time the Queen aimed for an already swollen spot to land the next hit he jolted with a gasp and he looked directly into Katsuki’s eyes.
It’s okay, Kacchan.
Arousal was a furnace in the pit of Katsuki’s stomach, every heartbeat resonating through his whole body like a heavy drum. He felt the cold, hard floor under his knees again, and he was overcome with the sudden, unshakable need to lick a stripe up Deku’s ass. He had a cute ass, firm and perky with muscle that betrayed years of physical work, and Katsuki saw the bruises again as clearly as if Deku was in front of him and he wanted to bite.
In the haze of his fantasy he heard him moan, bright and clear, and it was enough to send him tumbling down the cliff.
Stars of every size and color flickered behind his eyelids, and he huffed out the closest thing to a moan that he dared without waking up a servant. Warm, sticky come splattered all over his stomach and his hand, but he couldn’t open his eyes yet; his hand moved as if from its own accord as he jerked himself through his orgasm, the intensity making his toes curl.
The lull never lasted long. His own mind crashed onto him all at once, before his come had a chance to cool down against his heated skin.
Sometimes, guilt was heavy enough to make it hard for Katsuki to breathe. It clung to him like a layer of grime, lingering no matter how hard he tried to run away from it, pressing down on him as he removed his hand from his softening cock and stretched his fingers covered with come.
He longed to get cleaned up, but he feared that if he stood up to get a rag he would wake himself up hopelessly, that he wouldn’t be able to escape into sleep.
Deku refused to leave his thoughts even after his breathing settled down, but those pretty green eyes were surging with disgust now.
Katsuki was not a good person.
Dreams always became more vivid when the air warmed up. Katsuki woke up earlier and earlier every day, his sheets soaked with sweat, a curse tangled in his throat and sunshine prickling on his skin.
He never knew what awaited him when he lied down every night. Sometimes Deku was there to kiss him, his lips running all over his body and his breath hot against his skin. Sometimes he laughed at him, like he had laughed when Katsuki had grudgingly admitted that he didn’t know how to milk a cow, since he’d never needed to do it.
Sometimes he cried, he begged for mercy, as Katsuki whipped him over and over again–sometimes it was his mother instead, venom dripping from her words as she held him down.
Katsuki felt every strike like it was him stripped naked and punished instead, and Deku sobbed, and the dreams went on and on.
Every day he woke up alone with his heart beating wildly against his ribs, and the tendrils of those memories reached and wrapped themselves around him through the whole day.
For a while, he really tried. Every time a sharp retort sizzled up his throat he saw the bruises and and tamped it down; he pushed his head downwards and muttered half-hearted agreements and swallowed through the anger of knowing himself trapped.
He hated every second of it, and, more than anything else, he hated that he missed him.
Summer came in a dizzying rush of thunderstorms and blazing sunlight. There was a buzz under Katsuki’s skin that refused to let go, itching and aching as he forced himself through day after day of the same bland shit.
He wondered how he was doing, constantly. He imagined him chatting with his friends, the marks of the Palace’s brutality fading with time, and a rush of fury and longing that he didn’t understand consumed him to the point where his teachers began to ask him if he was sick.
He overheard his mother bragging about how effective her corrective methods were, once. The tears of anger he spilled in private after hearing that were hot and bitter to the touch.
And the dreams continued, and Katsuki hated them, and it was the only way he had of seeing Deku; and he swallowed his anger and he said yes, Sir, and thank you, Master, because he couldn’t put him through another moment of pain.
He really couldn’t.
He didn’t expect the gods to look kindly on him, not after the mud and the blood he’d accumulated in his hands. But sometimes, when sleep eluded him and the stars that shone outside seemed to mock him in their shining impassiveness, he dared to hope Deku was happier now, that his days were easier now that Katsuki had stopped tormenting him by dragging him into his life.
The Queen’s summon came like a pebble thrown in the middle of a calm lake, shattering the tense calm like fine china thrown down a well. Katsuki could only do so much, after all. There was always a portion of his life that was not his to control, that belonged to his parents and to the whispers that ran around no matter what he did, rumors that propagated like curls of smoke on a cold day.
He was almost getting used to not talking to her beyond customary greetings when the call arrived. Katsuki’s blood froze in his veins.
A tiny sliver of his brain–the stupid, childish portion that still believed in good things–hoped that there was another reason behind the summoning. He desperately hoped that he wouldn’t be there, clinging to the thought that he had been good, he had swallowed every complaint, he’d obeyed and shown himself docile and mellow and–
Deku’s eyes were unreadable. He stood at the bottom of the steps, wearing a new set of clothes Katsuki didn’t remember seeing before, looking fresh with a healthy tan and somehow more vibrant than ever before.
He looked beautiful, and the sight was like a knife twisting in Katsuki’s guts.
“Hey,” he whispered, a timid smile dancing on his lips.
“I thought you were done with this charade,” Katsuki spat out. He didn’t trust himself to look at Deku without breaking down completely, so he focused his eyes on his mother instead. He felt her fire reflected in his own eyes, and he clung to it.
“I thought you had decided to finally behave, and yet here we are,” Queen Mitsuki replied. She held the cane casually, as if unaware of the blood and tears it had provoked.
“Fuck off.”
Deku gasped.
Katsuki kept pushing forward, ripping every word through his throat with a strength that ached. “You have no idea–no idea of what you were doing, you heartless, power-hungry–”
She dismissed him like one would swat a summer fly away. She loomed over them, massive in her regality, glittering powerful and menacing from her throne.
“Over here, boy.”
“His name,” rasped Katsuki, “is Deku.”
She snorted. “Same thing.”
Deku stole a glance toward Katsuki, but the Queen’s tone was clearly enough to make him obey. He walked closer to her, and away from him, and, Gods, he couldn’t let it happen again.
“Fucking don’t, Deku.”
“Kacchan, it’s okay, I really–”
“Don’t.” The cheerful light that streamed through the windows felt like a slap in the face, and his feet moved before he could stop himself.
He tried to arrange his thoughts in a coherent sentence, and his heartbeat accelerated until it was beating a staccato against his temples. “This has been fucking ridiculous since day one, I’m not letting it happen anymore.”
Queen Mitsuki raised a single eyebrow, clear enough to be seen from her place. “It’s a shame it’s not your place to decide that, then.”
“No, fuck off. Deku, don’t give one more step.” He fought to control his breathing. “I don’t know why the fuck you think there’s a punishment to be given here, but if anyone’s gotta receive it then–” he stopped for a split moment. This was what he needed to do, wasn’t it? It should’ve always been like this. “Then just hit me and be done with it.”
Deku was the quickest to react. “Kacchan, stop, it’s okay!”
Katsuki only saw red. The fact that he had let this bullshit happen to Deku for so long hammered down on him with a deep shame that only pushed him to walk up faster. He brushed past Deku’s frozen frame and didn’t stop until he was standing right in front of his mother, forcing himself to look into her eyes.
“Do it,” he sneered. “You coward, hit me.” The fear and the elation of standing up to her so directly threatened to overwhelm him, but he gritted his teeth and did his best to not flinch when she stood up.
“All right for me,” she shrugged.
Gods, for some reason Katsuki had expected her to disagree more. He bit on the inside of his mouth, hearing Deku’s complaints from far away.
“No, please, just let me take it, Kacchan–”
He turned around with a sardonic grin, wondering if he looked as pale as Deku did right now. “Can’t have you getting all the fun for yourself, can I?” he attempted to quip, even if his voice faltered slightly.
“Take your fucking clothes off,” hissed his mother.
As a Prince, Katsuki had never received a corporal punishment before. Somehow, the rustling of the clothes and the awareness of the sudden cold air against his skin was the worst part, making him woozy with the innate shame of knowing himself exposed.
He forced himself to breathe through his teeth, a rush of adrenaline washing over him. Time congealed around him, and he tensed involuntarily as he heard the whooshing sound as the cane cut through the air.
It stung immediately, sharp and startling enough that Katsuki didn’t hear the crack against his skin at all. The pain burst tight and demanding in a narrow spot over the thickest part of his ass, and he had to suppress a groan.
He hadn’t had time to swallow through it when the cane fell again. This time, he couldn’t help the shocked gasp he let out.
Fuck.
He fought against his preservation instinct and stood still, even as he heard his mother snicker low under her breath. He didn’t have time to recover from the hit before the next one was cracking down, seemingly right on top of each other, the pain climbing up and up like a red-hot iron being applied to his skin.
Breathe, he admonished himself. Long, slow breaths that didn’t do much to hide the grunts that threatened to spill from his lips. Breathe through it, you fucking–
The Queen had not told him how many times she would cane him, but he had lost count all the same. Somehow each strike felt like a distinct new tongue of fire and also melted into a single mass of pain that pulsed to the rhythm of his heart, and fuck, it fucking hurt.
When an especially strong blow finally made him cry out, he found himself looking down, looking at Deku. Shame and guilt crawled viciously behind his eyes when he thought of how many times he’d put him through this. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to reach out and–
Snap.
Taken by surprise, he shouted again. The pain was like a living creature now, taking control of his mind and clouding every thought. He struggled to take his next breath, and then the cane came down again, and the bite was strong enough that he could taste the first prickle of tears behind his eyes.
And she kept fucking going, striking again, and again, and Katsuki saw nothing but Deku’s eyes and the transfixed expression on his face and everything else was pain.
Distantly, he wondered if his mother was enjoying this. He was crying now, he was sure of it, big, ugly tears that rolled down his face like a downpour that didn’t really stick. He would’ve probably found it in himself to be embarrassed if his entire brain wasn’t busy screaming in alarm.
Soon, he couldn’t parse between each hit anymore. It stretched forever, endless, an eternity in the fire he’d put Deku through for so long, and through the echoing cracks he saw Deku’s lips parting open in what could’ve been fear, or wonder, or maybe just a gasp.
He would’ve not looked away even if he could have. Somehow through the humiliation and the agony he saw Deku, and saw him looking back with his own eyes flooding with tears, and Katsuki looked and looked as if the world had already ended and they were all that was left behind.
He didn’t become aware of the punishment being over until there was a different touch on him–the hands were rough and calloused but gentler than anything he’d experienced in a long time.
And there was that voice, hushed and a bit choked up in a way that he hadn’t heard even after the harshest canings, that single whisper.
“Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s tongue felt dry and foreign in his mouth. He didn’t really try to separate every ache in his body into its own problem; he felt tender and stretched taut like a bruise being prodded at. He tried not to think of the stinging heat all over his ass, and focused on Deku instead.
Deku, who was saying something to him.
“Hmm?” he tried to reply.
“I don’t know this place,” Deku repeated urgently. “Tell me where I can take you so you can rest and get water and the salve and–”
He was shaking, Katsuki saw now. His surroundings slowly focused into shape and whatever he was resting against felt cold against his skin where Deku wasn’t holding him up.
The throne. They were awkwardly propped against the fucking throne, and his mother was gone, and Deku was on the verge of tears.
“You dumbass, I’m fine, you don’t need to–”
Deku shushed him, his hands running all over his body. He mumbled on and on about needing to help and how sorry he was and it was going to finish smashing the remaining bits of Katsuki’s sanity.
He tried to protest, but before he could say anything Deku leaned over and trapped his lips with his own with a tiny humming noise.
That was more than enough to shut him up. Deku tasted just like he remembered, and the renewed memory stole all the air from his lungs. Fuck the Queen, fuck responsibilities, fuck the punishment and the gossip and the anger; there was a single thought in Katsuki’s mind and it was just Deku.
A corner of the regal throne jutted out and lodged itself awkwardly on his skin, but he didn’t care. He wanted to taste more–he’d been given a second chance to hold him in his arms and he would chew through his own flesh before letting go of him again.
Deku was still murmuring little nothings whenever they broke away for air; ironic, considering what seemed to have been his intentions behind the kiss all along. Katsuki huffed out a little laugh, that turned into a gasp when his hands wandered downward far enough to grasp at Deku’s ass like an anchor holding him at sea.
“What are we doing?” he murmured, half dazed.
Deku echoed with a laugh of his own as he kissed him more desperately. “I think you know,” he said.
A wave of dizziness that Katsuki couldn’t blame on the punishment almost tipped him off balance. He saw Deku’s flushed cheeks, and how his eyes were dark with need, and–Christ, he felt himself getting hard too. Because this was Deku, and the memories of his flesh dipping just slightly under his touch were overwhelming in their intensity, and all Katsuki knew was that he wanted to make him cry out from pleasure, for once.
It was the most stupid thing he’d ever done, by far; and he had once thrown himself off a window and broken two bones in the fall. He didn’t give a shit. Resolutely, as if he was afraid that the opportunity would slip through his fingers, he pressed a hand against Deku’s crotch.
The gasp he received in response was already more than he’d ever dreamed of. “Kacchan,” Deku sighed, “anyone could see, Kacch–ah!”
Katsuki refused to stop, suddenly obsessed with earning more of those sweet sounds. He adjusted his angle just slightly–at some point they’d slid as one until Deku was practically straddling Katsuki as he sat on the massive seat, his bruises a muted thud of pain with each heartbeat–and he focused on rubbing firmly against the outline of Deku’s cock, now easy to make out through the layers of fabric. Each movement of his fingers turned into a whine that tasted sweet like nectar against Katsuki’s lips, and Deku’s cock twitched more and more until he was rubbing himself with sharp little motions, thrusting forward into Katsuki’s hand. The air was too hot to tolerate any longer.
“Please,” whispered Deku between whimpers, “please, Kacchan, just a little more, fuck–”
Arousal flowed thick and heavy in Katsuki’s veins, lighting up each nerve like the morning sun. They weren’t really kissing anymore, they were too clumsy and desperate for that, but Katsuki couldn’t stop chasing his lips, tilting his head up so he could reach better, seeking him with a groan. He could feel Deku’s heartbeat, close enough that it was hard to distinguish from his own, and the short puffs of breath that felt cold against his tongue. He wanted more.
And then Deku stuck a warm hand directly through Katsuki’s robes and gasped when he grabbed his cock, the touch sudden enough to make him jolt. “You too,” he murmured, and Katsuki didn’t know when he had closed his eyes but he could’ve sworn the kid was smiling.
They didn’t last much longer, tumbling down together with the desperation of someone who has waited for an entire lifetime. Katsuki came with a choked off moan and a hand tangled in Deku’s tunic, and through the milky haze of his bliss he heard him barely trying to stifle his moans as he followed him, pulsing hot and damp under Katsuki’s hand.
Deku’s eyes were wide with a giddy sort of shock when Katsuki dared to open his own. The awareness of what they had just done wasn’t really settling down yet, but Katsuki saw his own come sticking to Deku’s fingers as he tried to prop himself up better on his mother’s fucking throne and he couldn’t help a giggle.
“Fuck,” he sighed. He felt shaky, like his bones had been replaced by brittle sticks, but he kept expecting a guilt that didn’t seem to come. Deku attempted a trembling smile, and the bright sunlight that streamed through the tall windows finally seemed to match the beat of Katsuki’s heart.
“I’m–” Deku cut himself off and tried again. “I’m sorry you had to–”
Katsuki grunted as he lifted himself up, hands firmly on the armrests that glittered with gold that had already outlived them for centuries. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and he’d never been more ready to do so.
The first autumn rain caught Katsuki unprepared as he walked down the dusty road. By the time he arrived to the tavern the hood he’d put over his head was completely soaked, offering a respite from what had been, until then, an oppressively hot day.
He felt Deku’s presence before he saw him, walking in with a smile that seemed to light the tiny place up. He sat down next to him, smelling like petrichor and the fields, and he motioned for the barkeep to serve them.
“Long day?”
Katsuki snorted. “If I have to read one more page on ancient enchantments and curses I’ll probably put one on old Aizawa myself.”
“So mean!” Deku laughed. “He sounds like a very nice man!”
“Please, you haven’t seen him trying to be awake before noon, that’s why.”
The barkeep placed two flagons in front of them with a short grunt, before moving on to a brawl building up on the other side of the table. Katsuki took a nice, long sip immediately, and the warmth of the ale spread through him like a gentle fire. He sighed contentedly.
“Hey, Deku,” he asked, “you wanna go try some archery?”
Deku looked back at him with disbelief in his eyes. “Archery?”
“Yeah, dumbass, you know, you grab this thing called a bow and–”
Deku swallowed his own ale faster and slammed the flagon down. “I didn’t know you were good at it!”
“Please, I’m the best archer the palace has seen in generations.”
To Deku’s credit, he lasted a good two seconds before dissolving in laughter. “Fine, fine! I believe you! But you gotta try your hand at harvesting later.”
“That boring thing?”
Deku’s eyes were the perfect picture of sweet innocence. “It’s really hard, actually, it’s okay if you’d rather leave it to someone who knows, like me!”
“Oh, you’re on.”
Next to them, some troubadour propped themselves up on a table and whipped out their lyre, embarking on a long tale about the feats of the courageous King and his most beautiful and gentle Queen. Katsuki rolled his eyes with a huff, and he saw Deku biting back a laugh of his own.
“Nice.”
“Should we give them some coins for their art?”
“Sure,” Katsuki shrugged. “I mean, they’re not about to sing about how Her Majesty was defeated in her quest to correct her child’s misbehavior and sullenly agreed to give him some fuckin’ space around him, but I guess they sing nicely.”
Deku beamed at him, bright and clear even through the dusty, candle-lit air. “This son of hers sounds interesting.”
Katsuki did not blush. He was definitely not a blusher, and Deku most surely didn’t have the power to make him blush. He huffed. “You’re ridiculous.”
Deku reached for another sip of ale with one hand, and sneaked the other across the table until he was resting it gently over Katsuki’s fingers, and his touch was as warm as his smile.