Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Babe. Let me teach you violin.”

Katsuki leaned over him, bow in one hand, his fourth glass of wine in the other. Determination fired in his eyes, along with the glassy-glaze of too much alcohol and too late of an evening that glinted ruby off his eyes. He swayed gently, staring down at Izuku, sitting on the floor of the apartment they didn’t share, but might as well have, scratching his tiny white kitten between the ears. Izuku looked up, neckline of Katsuki’s shirt hanging half-off his shoulder, constellations of freckles standing out on rosy-blushed cheeks. He giggled lightly.

“You’re gonna,” he laughed, stopping his attention towards the cat in favor of grabbing Katsuki’s free hand, swinging it between them,“you’re gonna teach me violin?”

Katsuki nodded, concentrated pink filling in above his cheekbones. “Yup!” he said, popping the syllable like a bubble, “I’m the best violinist in this apartment.”

He set the bow down lightly on Izuku’s lap before disappearing back into the bedroom to get the violin itself. When he returned, swinging the warm brown body loosely in one hand and with his wine still gripped tightly, he promptly dropped himself on the couch behind Izuku and snaked his arms around his waist, violin sitting haphazardly beside them.

They had been drinking for a few hours, passing a bottle or two of wine back and forth, recounting their days. Hero work took its toll on their bodies every day, scars littering them anew, and sometime a few months—or was it years, now?—ago, Katsuki had come over for help taking care of the burns scattered across his back, and simply hadn’t left.

As nights of patching each other up, with words and bandages alike, they’d realized they had far more in common than simply going to the same school and dominating the top three in hero rankings nationally. Including working in music for a year or two after school, had worked the same bars on the same nights, and had somehow missed each other there.

Apparently, being a hero and a stunningly talented musician went hand in hand.

This wasn’t the first night they’d ended up like this, Mochi—the kitten—toddling between them, but it was the first night Katsuki decided to try to teach Izuku violin.

“C’mere, I’ll teach you how to hold it,” he said, hauling Izuku’s body up into his lap, hands splayed across his stomach, working their way under the hem of his shirt. “Mmm, you’re warm, Deku,” he added, resting his chin heavily on his shoulder. “Violin time!”

He passed the boy in front of him the instrument, directing him to place it on his shoulder and pouting when it meant he had to move his face. “Now you’re gonna,” he hiccupped, “you’re gonna hold the bow, just like this, like a teacup, okay?” He laced his fingers into Izuku’s, pressing their palms together.

Izuku laughed more, a bright, jingle-bell laugh that rang out in the quiet air. “Kacchan, babe, I can’t hold the bow if you have my hand.”

Oh. Right.

Katsuki disentangled their hands, and Izuku picked up the bow, fingers falling into place against the shaft like it was second nature.

“Teach me something, Kacchan,” he goaded, running the bow across the strings quickly. “Something good.”

He started humming softly, the growl of his voice low in his throat, a rendition of “All of Me” making its way out. He stopped, nodding play it! to Izuku, sliding his arms more tightly around his waist as he shifted his weight, freeing up his right elbow to play.

The air in the apartment rippled as the violin started up, and Katsuki couldn’t help but stare.

Izuku’s fingers danced across the fingerboard, and the muscles in his shoulder shifted underneath his skin as he bowed. Even drunk, his playing was flawless, and it was the most natural thing in the world when Katsuki started to sing along.

The soaring of the violin twined around Katsuki’s rumbly baritone, just loud enough to be heard clearly in his ear, and he leaned back into the solid chest behind him. This might not have been the best position to sit in to play violin, but the caramel-scented warmth wrapping around him and the dark-chocolate comfort of the voice in his ear made it all worth it.

They rarely did this, anymore, too busy to take the time to stop and play music together. After all, when is there a time for singing when you have a city to protect? But here, staring out the window of the apartment at the lights of the city twinkling faintly, glowing blue-white behind the warm light of the Christmas tree wrapped with golden tinsel, here there was all the time in the world.

'Cause all of me loves all of you, Katsuki sang in his ear, feeling more than seeing as goosebumps tracked up his neck, Love your curves and all your edges, he continued, tracing one finger lightly along his jawline, pressed into the ebony of the violin’s chinrest, all your perfect imperfections. He trailed the word off, carding one hand through the soft green hair tickling his cheek and breathing in the sharp peppermint of his cologne. Izuku stopped playing suddenly, swinging the violin down off of his shoulder, and turned to gaze at Katsuki.

“Hi, Kacchan,” he whispered, before pressing their lips together.

The wine on his tongue was still palpable, the acid sting of alcohol burning through the heat of their mouths. He smiled into the kiss, feeling the tiny prickle of their stubble brushing together, and suddenly, home was right where they were, surrounded by the light.

Packing up the violin that night was rushed. As the scroll banged into the side of the case, Izuku offered a muttered apology to his instrument, but Katsuki’s insistent hand, tight and warm around his own, called even more loudly than his violin. Mochi wandered into the bedroom as they collapsed side-by-side, and her tiny paws leaping onto Izuku’s chest sent him into a fit of giggles.

“I,” he breathed, laughter subsiding, “cannot believe you tried to teach me violin. I get paid to do that shit, Kacchan, I mean, really. And you totally don’t know how to hold a bow right, I mean, come on. If you’re drunk enough you think you can teach me, we’ve got a whole new problem.” He rolled onto his side, grinning at Katsuki as he scowled.

“I can't teach violin, eh? Next time, I teach you to sing, Deku.”

“Sure, Kacchan.”