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Shigaraki rolled his head to pop his neck and let out a sighing groan. He’d been at his laptop for hours, trailing monsters and tagging ghosts and whatever else his work called for. It never got boring, but it got exhausting. His eyes were starting to burn from staring at the bright screen in the dark, but instead of calling it quits just yet, he held out his hand. It was a familiar gesture to the bartender by now, one he knew meant another drink and not to question. After two years of making this bar his preferred hotspot, Kurogiri and the other bartenders knew better than to ask.
Still, apparently those two years made them a little too familiar with him too. Familiarity bred comfort, which led to all sorts of comments that he didn’t like.
Kurogiri placed the glass in his hand and leaned against the bar. “Shouldn’t you take a breather once in a while?”
“When I’m done,” Shigaraki said before taking a large gulp and sitting the glass down. It was precariously close to his laptop, but he figured he could save the electronic before anything happened to it should someone knock the glass over. He wasn’t clumsy enough to do that.
“You’ve been at it since we opened,” Kurogiri pointed out.
Shigaraki typed in a series of codes and watched them dance along his screen. “How long is that?”
“Almost eight hours.”
He blinked. Oh. He hadn’t realized he’d been here for that long. He’d learned his lesson the first few times when he came here without a charger or backup battery. He used to gauge his time here by now long it took his laptop to die. Nowadays, he knew to sit at the edge of the bar so he could plug his laptop in and get to work without fear of it dying on him in the middle of a job. There was almost nothing worse than that, especially if he was battling firewalls that demanded on the spot attention.
“Take a break,” Kurogiri told him, as if he had any right to tell Shigaraki what to do with his time.
Before Shigaraki could point that out, a pair of arms were draped over his shoulders and someone’s chest pressed against his back. He was shoved into the bar and nearly spilled his drink. A thick haze of smoke wafted into his face, and he scrunched his nose at the smell. He would’ve shoved them off or maybe pressed a knife to their throat, but he’d recognize those scarred and tattoo-covered arms anywhere.
“Yeah, boss,” a smoke voice drawled in his ear, “take a break.”
Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “Are you drunk already, Dabi?”
“It’s midnight on a Saturday,” Dabi said with a low chuckle. “What else would I be?”
Dabi was not the physically affectionate type, but he knew that Shigaraki was even worse and liked to push his luck with him. He lingered there for a moment, his body leaning against his, before he finally pulled away and dropped backwards into the seat next to him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, an obvious sign that he’d been drinking, but he didn’t seem too impaired. There was still a sharp look about him as he leaned back on his elbows against the bar and surveyed the room.
“You’ve been at this for days,” Dabi pointed out. “You deserve a rest. Live a little for once.”
“Do you know how many walls they could throw up in the time that I rest?” Shigaraki demanded.
With all the delicacy of a bull in an electronics shop, Dabi poked him right between his eyes. “Do you know how much you’re gonna fuck your eyes up if you keep staring at that screen in the dark?”
“Concerned for my well-being?” Shigaraki asked.
Dabi snorted. “Nah, I just don’t wanna fuck you while you’re all cross-eyed from being a nerd.”
Shigaraki’s face flushed, and he turned back to his computer. Leave it to Dabi to be the crudest person out there. He snuck a glance over his screen at Kurogiri, but the bartender was busy polishing glasses. He was a little too focused on that. No doubt he’d heard Dabi’s comment. It really pissed Shigaraki off when he said shit like that in public or in front of others, but there was nothing he could do now. He’d just make him suffer later somehow.
Slamming the laptop shut, Shigaraki huffed. “I’ve done all I can do for now. I have to wait to see if the virus plants.”
“Bringing down a government sure is boring,” Dabi sighed. “Why can’t we just bomb stuff like normal terrorists?”
“Because we’re not terrorists.”
A sardonic grin flickered across Dabi’s face. “That’s not what the news says about us. You’d be the poster boy for cyber terrorism if they had a picture of you.”
Shigaraki would never allow that to happen. Using his skills, he’d managed to essentially erase himself from the system so that no one could find him. Even if he was caught on camera, it would change his face to someone else’s. That was one of the first bugs he’d ever planted, and he checked on it regularly to make sure it was still working. When the time came, he would show his face, but now, he did his best work in the shadows. Let the people fear what they couldn’t see.
Dabi sat up and swung around to face the bar. “Let’s do a shot.”
Shigaraki shook his head. “No.”
Not one to be deterred, Dabi needled him a little more. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that.”
“I know your games,” Shigaraki accused. “You’re just trying to get me drunk.”
Dabi tilted his head. “Now why would I do such a thing?”
“I don’t know.” Shigaraki waved a hand around as he tried to think. “To make me do something stupid, so you can make fun of me, to take advantage of me while I’m inebriated.”
“I don’t have to get you drunk to do any of those things,” Dabi pointed out.
Pressing his chapped lips together, Shigaraki shot Dabi a sideways glare and then looked back at the liquor lining the wall behind the bar. He didn’t need a shot. He shouldn’t take a shot. He hated getting drunk and the hangovers that came with them. Even worse, he hated the way he’d sleep in too long the next day, Dabi draped over him and causing him to sweat because he didn’t know how to fucking share a bed. It was awful, and every time he got drunk it ended that way.
He didn’t like it. He swore he didn’t like it.
He ordered the shots anyways and tried not to think about the long look Dabi sent him as he drained the liquor. Maybe he did need that break after all.