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The ceiling collapses above them and Tomura thinks this has to be the worst day of the week so far. He jackknives to the side, knocking over Dabi who’s only been gawking at the boulders about to squash them to villain mash and covering their heads as above them the room breaks in two. Over the sound of the crumbling ceiling, Himiko’s screaming, her words drowned out by the boulders crashing into the ground around them. Tomura automatically holds his breath, only barely registering Dabi’s arms tightly slung around his middle. The whole fiasco only takes a few seconds, Tomura finally feeling his own galloping heartbeat over the trembling ground again, an eerie silence settling around them.
He opens his mouth to say something and immediately breathes in dust. Frame rattled by violent coughs, Tomura blinks into the darkness around them, lashes heavy with more of the fine remains of what used to be a stable building just seconds prior. Underneath him, Dabi’s spluttering, trying to wipe the dust from his face but instead knocking his hand against the boulder right above them trapping them in place. It’s only held by two other large pieces of ceiling, creating a very dangerous fort.
“What the fuck,” he manages, falling into a coughing fit just like Tomura, his whole body shaking underneath the other man, “what the hell happened?”
“Shit happened,” Tomura grouches, still blinking the dust out of his eyes. “I fucking told you guys this was a trap, but you shitheads knew better of course. Now we’re fucking stuck underneath these rocks.”
“Wait, what?” Dabi’s looking around as much as he can in the limited space, accidentally knocking their heads together in the process and getting a warning growl from Tomura in return. “Fucking Christ… Oh no, no, no -”
“Chill, brat, Kurogiri’s gonna get us out eventually, the others made it out in time. I’d disintegrate these fucking rocks, but that might prompt the rest of the building to collapse. So just stay still and we’ll be good, alright? Hey, are you listening to me, shithead?”
Pressed against each other like this, Tomura feels every of Dabi’s moves, looking down in irritation when he begins to squirm. Against his own rib cage, Dabi’s heart begins to hammer away, and Tomura realizes a bad situation is about to get worse. “Hey, brat, what’s the matter? Come on, say something. Dabi, what -”
“I can’t breathe,” Dabi wheezes, eyes slipping around the place, a fine sweat beginning to collect on his skin. “I can’t breathe, Tomura.”
“Fucking hell, lemme try to move,” Tomura grouches, trying to push himself up, but only hitting his back against the boulder above them. It’s no use in the tight space; he’s surprised they weren’t completely squashed and doesn’t want to risk having the rest of the building collapse above them, so instead, he leans on his elbows above Dabi’s head, lifting his weight off the other’s chest as best as possible. “There, that better?”
“That’s not it,” Dabi whimpers and the quiver in his voice has Tomura staring at the usually so collected and aloof man. Underneath him, Dabi’s trembling, eyes weirdly glassy and against his own skin, Dabi’s has turned cold and clammy.
“Oh no,” Tomura whispers, as realization begins to sink in, “are you having a panic attack? Are you fucking claustrophobic?!”
Instead of a reply, Dabi whimpers again, and against Tomura’s back, his hands begin to heat up.
“Shithead,” Tomura says, trying to ignore the rising heat against his skin in favor of getting Dabi’s attention, “hey, brat, calm down, okay? You’re not gonna use your quirk right now, because then whatever Kurogiri finds of us won’t be of any use anymore. Fucking listen to me! You have to calm down. Dabi!”
At the mention of his name, Dabi’s eyes flutter to focus on him, wide with panic.
“Good,” Tomura mumbles, their hearts racing for the fastest pace, but he still puts on what hopefully looks like a Calm Face, “that’s good, just look at me, focus on me. Tell me what I can do, tell me how I can help you.”
Dabi stares at him and Tomura thinks he sees a treacherous wetness in the corners of his eyes, but rather blames it on the dust particles covering them both. “Sing something,” Dabi says and judging by the tone of it, this isn’t the first time he asks someone to sing for him in a tight space. Tomura stares.
“I’m not fucking doing that,” he mutters, almost hissing along to the keen leaving Dabi’s lips. “Okay, okay! I can’t fucking sing though. What about humming? Does that work too?!”
“Fucking … I don’t know, just ... please, something,” Dabi whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, hands balled into fists against Tomura’s back, albeit not any bit cooler than before. With his pride curled up in the back of his head, Tomura swallows and begins to hum the first song that comes to his mind.
As soon as he starts, the melody fills the space around them, his own heart begins to slow down. Underneath him, Dabi’s still trembling, sucking in air in short bursts - but hey, they’re not on fire yet, so it’s doing something.
He’s halfway into the song when Dabi’s eyes open and he stares at him in slight disbelief. “Are you humming Nirvana? Is that fucking Come As You Are ?”
Despite the dire situation, a blush creeps onto Tomura’s cheeks, and he prays it’s not visible in the dim light of their Danger Fort. “Shut up, it’s the first thing I thought of.”
“No, that’s good,” Dabi mumbles, slowly breathing out through his mouth. There’s a wave of relief washing through Tomura at the realization that the humming works, before Dabi speaks again and his hairs suddenly stand on edge. “Didn’t think a creep like you had such good taste in music,” he murmurs, a weak smirk pulling at his lips.
Tomura makes a face. “I think I liked panic attack you better.”
It’s not quite a chuckle, but Dabi’s chest shakes against his own, bits of dust rippling from his clothes onto the floor. But then something around them cracks, and Dabi tenses up like a frightened cat.
“No, no, no,” Tomura hurries, trying to catch Dabi’s eyes as another whimper leaves his chest, “look at me, Dabi, come on, just look at me. Look, I’ll sing for you!”
And so he does, less steady than his humming, broken chords falling from his lips as he puts together the lyrics in his head, blending out his pride tying together a rope and slinging it over a branch.
“Come as you are, as you were. As I want you to be. Come on, Dabi, sing with me! As a friend, as a friend…”
“As a known enemy,” Dabi presses between his lips underneath him.
“Yeah, that’s good, keep it up! Take your time, hurry up ...”
“The choice is yours, don’t be late -”
Another crack, Tomura singing louder. “Take a rest! As a friend! As an old - come one, Dabi, your turn!”
“Memoria, memoria,” Dabi sings shakily, voice low and bass heavy. Tomura stares at him. He never noticed how long Dabi’s lashes were before.
“Memoria, memoria,” Tomura repeats, but his attention is only halfway there.
“Come doused in mud, soaked in bleach,” Dabi continues, lips forming around the words and a pierced tongue darts out to lick at them, dragging over the slit in his bottom lip. His eyes wander up, focusing back on Tomura staring at him. The panic in his eyes has subdued, and instead something else has taken residence. If he didn’t know any better, Tomura might call it melancholy. “As I want you to be…”
Before he has the chance to take over the lyrics, wisps of black rise up from between their limbs, curling around them, and suddenly the ground gives in. Tomura falls with the image of Dabi’s ocean eyes into a sea of black.
The couch they’re landing on is soft, and they bounce off it with a light oof! They end up as a heap of tangled limbs on the ground, Tomura hissing as his head connects with the hard wooden floor. Next to him, arm still half slung over his middle, Dabi sits up, shaking his head like a wet dog and covering the ground around them in dust.
“Thanks for the rescue,” he says, waving at Kurogiri standing above them, whose eyes are speaking of more concern for the now dusty furniture. “That was a fucking awful adventure, never doing that again.”
“What took you so long?” Tomura grouches, his tailbone protesting as he makes to stand on wobbly legs, the blood finally rushing back into his limbs. “We almost finished a whole Nirvana song.”
“You did what?” Himiko piques up from behind Kurogiri, her oversized sweater laying on the counter as Spinner tends to a cut in her arm.
Another flush creeps into Tomura’s cheeks, and he simply waves her off, fingers finding his neck to run over old scars. “Ah, nevermind.”
Next to him, Dabi’s still sitting on the floor, back resting against the couch, watching Tomura out of sharp eyes.
“I will get some towels,” Kurogiri says, his voice giving away none of the annoyance he must feel at his incapable charges. “I suggest a shower, Shigaraki Tomura.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tomura mutters, fighting the urge to shake his head like Dabi did, if only out of spite.
He’s about to walk away and follow Kurogiri, Himiko and Spinner having turned their attention back to her injury, when Dabi speaks again. “And I swear that I don’t have a gun,” he sings quietly, looking up at Tomura through those weirdly long, coal-colored lashes. Tomura stares at him and this time there’s no boulder hanging above his head to explain the beat his heart obviously misses.
Quickly looking over to the others, Tomura clears his throat, ignoring the flutter in his chest. “No, I don’t have a gun.”
Dabi’s quiet chuckle haunts him on his way to the showers, and Tomura thinks maybe this isn’t the worst day of the week after all.