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Dabi wouldn’t say he hated video games, per se. Living with Shigaraki, however, made him really consider his general opinions on them. Whether he was coming back from casual arson, trying to sleep, or enjoying shitty take-out with his boyfriend, Shigaraki was always in the main area, playing some sort of extremely violent video game on that huge television Mister Compress had stolen for him. Dabi still wasn’t sure why Compress had stolen it in the first place; they all knew it’d only serve to made Shigaraki more insufferable.
When Compress stole Toga a tablet, however, Dabi realized that he’d been living a life of luxury listening to machine guns, barked orders, and flashbangs.
“I used to play this game all the time when I still lived with my parents!” she’d told him as she downloaded some obscenely pink game featuring several “kawaii” schoolgirls. “I wonder if I’m still any good at it. Do I even remember my password?” She wandered off, leaving Dabi to sigh a lungful of cigarette smoke into the open air.
“Hey, look at it this way,” someone who was about to be fried chicken drawled to his left. “If Toga’s busy with her new tablet, she won’t bother you as much, right?”
“Shigaraki never speaks while he’s gaming, but he still bothers the fuck out of me.”
Keigo nodded curtly, biting down hard on his bottom lip. “Right.” He kept the same solemn expression, but his wings perked up. “At least it’s not guitar hero?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Three weeks. It took three weeks of Toga having a tablet for Dabi to lose every last fucking shred of his patience.
Apparently, Compress had gotten Toga a tablet just in time for her to participate in an event in her video game. She wore headphones to play (“to help me focus!” she said), but the tap tap taptaptap of her fingers against the screen felt like how he imagined a woodpecker drilling into his skull would feel. He’d offered Spinner to trade rooms; it was a good bargain because Dabi’s room was both bigger and closer to the kitchen. To Dabi’s dismay, Spinner saw right through the ruse, telling him he refused to be any closer to Toga’s bedroom than he already was.
“Babe, it’s really not that bad. Just tune it out,” Keigo had told him, and it truly took every ounce of Dabi’s strength to not kick him out. Who cares if it’s the middle of the night?
Tuning it out wasn’t even an option for Keigo when the event was nearly coming to a close. The last hour of the event, Toga’s shrill voice could be heard throughout the entire bowling-alley-turned-base. If the brat weren’t so vital to their little group (meaning, if he didn’t like her—just a little), he would have torched her by now. He seriously considered taking one of the twelve-pounders to his skull. Wait—could he even pick one of those up without straining his arms? Fuck, I need to work out more.
“Hell yes!” Toga screamed, jumping up before sitting right back down again. Shigaraki shot her a deadly look that she didn’t see. “Best song they could have given me!”
She starts happily tapping away, and Shigaraki mutters something about killing her.
“Just kill more of the enemy dudes in your game,” Keigo offered. “It’s sort of the same.”
Shigaraki paused his game, then, to turn and shoot daggers at Keigo. Dabi laughed.
A bit later, Toga’s humming changed to a squeal. “Full combo! Oh spirits, that’s over 1.5 million points. Oh, please, spirits, please be enough.” She crossed the fingers of her left hand while tapping on the screen with her right. From behind her, Dabi could see an assortment of images flashing by as she did so. Then, she jumped up again. “Oh hell yes!” She repeatedly punched the air with her left fist as she chanted, “Tier One! Tier One! Tier One!”
Dabi sighed, his breath tar black, as Keigo perked up. “You did it?”
“Yeah!” She scampered over to show him, and Dabi rolled his eyes. Why was he encouraging this? They could be out setting shit on fire, but, instead, they were doing…whatever this was. “I got rank 9998, which is just barely good enough, but I’m in Tier One!” Her smile was so bright it was blinding, and Dabi understood for a moment why Keigo at least acted as if he was interested.
Shigaraki, however, was unafraid to voice his negative opinion. He paused his game again before he said, “Please, Toga, hush. Actual gaming is happening over here.”
He was just about to return to his game when Toga barreled into him, nearly knocking him over. “Hey! This is actual gaming too, you jerk!”
He pushed her away, putting some distance between them on the floor. “It’s not. Rhythm games are simple and boring and not true gaming.”
“Simple and boring?” She echoed, her jaw dropping open. “Excuse me, but what’s not simple and boring about shooter games?”
“Everything. They’re dynamic, and the story changes, and the bosses you fight are different.”
Toga looked supremely unimpressed. “You still shoot him to kill him, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s the same. I don’t care if he looks different.”
“Okay, but what’s not the same about your rhythm games?”
“Uh, the songs you play! And it’s not only about the gameplay; it’s about collecting cards!” Toga pulled up a menu on her tablet, scrolling through a ridiculous number of the same five-ish girls clad in all sorts of outfits. Even from far away, Dabi’s mind spun; he couldn’t imagine how Shigaraki felt. “See? There’s extra aspects that keep gameplay interesting.”
Shigaraki groaned, and Dabi figured he rolled his eyes. “But rhythm games are patterns. It’s far easier than a shooter or an rpg.”
“Oh, as if the enemies don’t spawn in the same general areas every time! I know they do; I’ve watched you play before.”
“Regardless, rhythm games are easier.”
“Not a chance.”
Dabi looked over at Keigo, and the look in Keigo’s eyes told him that the expression he was wearing must be edging on maniacal. Perfect. “Hey. Toga, Shigaraki.” They both looked up at him, blazing heat in both their gazes. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Babe, don’t,” Keigo whispered, but it was too late.
“How about we have a little bit of friendly competition?” Shigaraki narrowed his eyes, and Toga raised an eyebrow. Good. They were interested. “Who can beat the other at their own game?”
Toga, dropping the tablet into her clap, clasped her hands together. “Oh, sounds fun!”
“I guess you like losing then.” Shigaraki was grinning.
“Whoever wins gets to choose where we eat for an entire month, with no complaining from the rest of the League.”
“Deal.” Toga eyes sparkled. “Waffle House every Friday.”
Shigaraki’s grin only grew as he nodded. “No Waffle House for an entire month.”
Dabi rubbed his hands together, ignoring Keigo’s heavy sigh behind him. “Then we have a deal.”
Spinner and Toga were sitting in front of the television, Spinner giving Toga pointers as she made her way through the main story of Shigaraki’s favorite game on the easiest setting. A few lanes down, Shigaraki sat by himself on a couch, staring daggers at Toga’s tablet as he tapped away at it. Toga kept the volume of the shooter game much lower than Shigaraki did, and Shigaraki’s taps were significantly quieter, so Dabi was relishing in the few moments of peace he was getting. He and Keigo were sitting together on another couch while Keigo scrolled through articles about himself, reading the funnier titles aloud to Dabi.
“Ever since Rumi and I took down that lava villain together, all the tabloids are begging us to come out as a couple.” He chuckled, his feathers ruffling with the movement. “Too bad she and I are interested in members of the same family.”
Dabi took his arm from around Keigo’s shoulders to elbow him in the ribs. “Shut up.”
“It’s true!” He crinkled his nose, clearly trying to act offended.
“I know.” He rolled his eyes. “I remember Lola asking if we could go on a double date.”
Keigo narrowed his eyes, but didn’t bother correcting him. “Okay, it’s not like going bowling would be that hard. Also, Natsuo is here pretty often now that he and Shigaraki are—”
“Hush!” Dabi cut him off, covering his mouth with his hand. “No more talk of my siblings.”
Grabbing Dabi by the wrist and puling his arm down, Keigo smirked. “Not a fan of your little brother being into Shigaraki, huh?”
Dabi huffed. “There are…less annoying options.”
Keigo laughed, a nice, genuine laugh, one that made Dabi’s heart flutter. He opened his mouth to respond just as the door to the alley opened. Bringing a bit of the outside chill and the smell of Taco Bell with them, Magne and Jin entered. Spinner, in the middle of explaining a game mechanic to Toga, leapt up, abandoning her to rush up to the newcomers.
“Big Sis Mag! And food!”
“Oh, sweet, Jin is back,” Keigo commented, mostly to himself, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“No. Kei, don’t. Please.” Fuck.
Keigo stood up to join the group at the counter before acting like he took too large of a step. Rocking back on his leg, his double-jointed knee bent completely backwards. Dabi looked away, a hand slapping against his mouth. Sure, Keigo was a bird, but did his legs really need to be able to do that?
Falling to the ground, Keigo screamed in false pain. “Oh spirits! My leg! I think it’s broken!”
Toga and Shigaraki, who’d both fallen victim a few days before, continued playing their video games. Magne, who Toga had warned, fully ignored him as she sorted out orders. Either too engrossed in the tacos or smart enough to know that Keigo was probably just using his mutant abilities, Spinner didn’t react either. Jin, however, having no warning and no prior exposure, immediately dropped to his knees next to Keigo.
“Oh fuck! Are you okay? Of course he isn’t!” It took him another moment to more fully grasp that Keigo’s leg was truly broken, and then he was crying. Toga got up, then, to comfort him. “What are we going to do? You’re done for. Can you fly to the hospital? They’re gonna amputate your leg.” His hands ran through his hair, tugging at it, and Toga reached up to hold them, to stop Jin from pulling any out.
“Come on, Hawks, drop the act,” she said, voice stern, wiping at Jin’s eyes and shushing him.
In a swift movement, Keigo was sitting up, perched on his toes like the idiot bird he was. “Oh, fuck, you’re—Jin, I’m so sorry. It’s a gag. I’m double-jointed. Look!” He stood up and bent both knees all the way forward, then nearly all the way backward. “Y’know, like a bird. I have human knees and also sort of bird knees.”
“That’s so cool! That’s fucking gross. It’s okay, I love you. I fucking hate you. Get out. No, I love you. Well, I hate you for this, but I still love you.”
Keigo laughed. “I love you too, Jin.”
Dabi considered getting up, joining Compress and Kurogiri in blissful ignorance at the bar, and pouring himself a tall shot of the first liquor he got his hands on—or, at least, the tallest glass of ice milk he could manage. He didn’t get paid enough for this. Hell, he didn’t get paid at all. The reason the birdbrain is here is your fault, you know, a voice told him. He elected to ignore it.
He pushed himself off the couch, deciding on ice milk, when an enraged scream ripped through the alley. All heads turned to Shigaraki, who was yelling something about losing, but he was speaking so fast that his words were inaudible. Setting the tablet down with a little too much force, he took one of his gloves off. Before he was able to disintegrate it to dust, however, Compress was at his side.
“Ah, ah. We shan’t damage others’ gifts.” He took the device, delivering it to Toga. “You can have it back once you’ve calmed down.”
“I don’t understand why getting a full combo is so fucking difficult!” Shigaraki sunk into the couch, sulking so intensely that his mood was permeable.
“Told ya it was hard,” Toga responded in a sing-song tone.
Damn, Dabi really needed that ice milk.
Several days later, Toga decided she was finally ready to battle against Shigaraki. The decided rules were a 1v1 in Shigaraki’s favorite first-person shooter, the one Toga had been practicing on for nearly two weeks. She’d gotten plenty good—better than Spinner. No doubt, the promise of choosing food for an entire month was extremely important to her. Dabi didn’t understand why; the hot chocolate at IHOP was far better than the hot chocolate at Waffle House (and ice milk was far better than either one anyway).
Jin and Spinner had dragged extra couches over to the television in order to watch the showdown. Dabi and Spinner sat together on one, Kurogiri and Compress shared another, and Jin was painting Magne’s nails on a third. Now that Dabi was really watching, he could see why Toga thought these games were boring. Why run around shooting people in a fake world when they could go out and commit actual, real life arson? Playing rhythm games made more sense, and they definitely seemed more relaxing than shooting people in a post-apocalyptic, Quirkless universe.
Then, the words FIRST BLOOD flashed across the screen in cryptic text, and Toga punched the air with her left hand while Shigaraki’s mouth dropped open in pure disbelief. “Yes,” she whispered, before directing her character to run off and hide in an attempt to ambush Shigaraki’s when he respawned.
“What the fuck,” Spinner whispered, but it sounded more like an observation than a question. “Toga’s actually winning.”
They chased each other around and around the map, and Dabi started scrolling through his phone. He looked up whenever the game announced there was a kill, but, other than that, he was busily texting Keigo about when the fuck he was going to show up. When Toga and Shigaraki had made the plans for the showdown, Keigo had promised he would be there when it started. The dumbass bird made some excuse about grabbing wings before coming over, but Dabi was in the mood to whine—so, whine he did.
“Alright, asshole, I’m here,” Keigo announced several minutes later, earning loud shhhh sounds from both Toga and Shigaraki. He put his hands up in surrender before wandering towards the bar, looking for a bowl.
Toga earned another kill, and she grinned. “Shiggy, look at my score. If I kill you again, I win.”
“Well, no fucking way is that gonna happen, Toga.”
Dabi shrugged. “I dunno. I’m really feeling Waffle House this Friday.”
“Shut up, Crispy.” Shigaraki made a swatting motion towards him. “No one asked you.”
“I mean, I asked me.”
“Dabi,” Toga warned, shushing him. “Let me have this. I need to focus.”
He chuckled to himself, leaning back into the couch cushions. Soon enough, the birdbrain would be snuggled up to him, and it’d be a true family—er, League gathering. They didn’t really spend much time together, save when they bowled, and they usually bowled to solve discrepancies above all else. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the competition had been…nice. If he was honest with himself, Dabi was going to miss the competition. Hopefully, Toga forced them all to go out regularly for meals. Keigo could never eat with them, then, but he’d take what he could get.
Speaking of food, Keigo was walking over with a literal platter stacked high with buffalo wings. “Are you fucking serious right now?” Dabi asked before his brain caught up with his mouth.
“Sure,” he said, flashing a smile. “This was the best deal, and I’m nearly positive I can eat all the ones you don’t.”
Dabi rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t walk in front of the—”
Too late. All the console cords were sprawled out between the television and the couch, and Keigo tripped on what looked like basically all of them. Entirely caught off guard, he barely saved himself from slamming his face into the carpet, leaving the plate of wings soaring in the air. They looked like they were headed straight for…
No.
Fucking.
Way.
This was the best day in Dabi’s entire life. He’d been hoping that Keigo would be dumb enough to trip over the console cords and maybe unplug the thing, but this? Hoping to the spirits above, he crossed his fingers.
The platter flipped over as it made its downward arc, splattering more than twenty wings against the console. The plate itself followed soon after, landing with a brutal crack. From the looks of it, not just the ceramic was damaged. Yes. Moments later, the console started smoking, then sparking, then was fully ablaze.
Keigo squawked in fear, but it sort of sounded like “Fuck!”
“Hawks, you’re a dead motherfucker.” The look in Shigaraki’s eyes was appropriately murderous.
With one flap of his wings, Keigo was in the air, too high for Shigaraki to reach him, hands up in surrender. “Now, hold on a second.”
“Nah, I’m gonna kill you. I don’t give a fuck that you’re the Number Two Hero. Titles don’t matter when you’re dead.”
Compress was busily grabbing something out of the fridge, probably the water filter to put the fire out. When he came back over, Dabi noticed that the container was fully white. He hadn’t grabbed the water, he’d grabbed—
“My milk!”
“Dabi, please. We can get more milk.” Magne sounded exasperated, but she was clearly holding back laughter.
“But I cannot deal without ice milk. I need it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then go to the store with your chicken. Might be the last time you see him alive.”
They both laughed at that. “Not funny!” Keigo shouted from the ceiling. “Please, Shigaraki, I’m sorry.”
Shigaraki shook his head, reaching both ungloved hands upwards. “Sorry, but I don’t care. You broke my console.”
“Okay, what if I buy you a new one?” His voice was shaking.
Shigaraki straightened, lowering his hands ever so slightly. “I’m listening.”
No. No, no, no. “The newest version of whichever one I broke. Doesn’t matter the cost.”
“Throw in a new television too, and we have a deal.”
“Whatever you want, you’ve got it.”
Shigaraki nodded, replacing his right glove so that he and Keigo could shake hands. Dabi groaned; he’d been so close to being free.
A week and a half later, the League took their first of four Friday outings to Waffle House. Keigo had been extremely swift in setting up Shigaraki’s new television and console, and he’d immediately demanded a rematch with Toga. To Dabi’s excitement, Toga annihilated him. He didn’t mind having to walk the extra four blocks to Waffle House (Denny’s was so much closer) if it meant that Shigaraki was disappointed for an entire month. Sure, he was a hell of a lot more annoying, but Dabi truly thought it’d been worth it.
Keigo, who was quite unused to Shigaraki’s death glares, had a different opinion entirely.