Work Text:
“Remind me to never listen to you again.”
Once more, the wall of the cavern lights up as if it was high noon and not midnight, and the heat becomes unbearable, even for Dabi and his fireproof cloak. The witch contemplates the decisions that put him in this delicate position and —
Well, let’s say he might have made one or two wrong calls and assumptions. But at the same time, who ever heard of a dragon with insomnia, seriously? They’re usually lazy fuckers, everyone knows that!
“Are you going to do something or what?” Hawks presses closer, trying to keep his fancy starry shawl away from the raging flames. If a glare could kill, Dabi’s pretty sure he would already be on a bark on the river Styx right now. “I can’t exactly go and stab that goddamn lizard!”
The red blades Hawks is holding casts strange hues on his angry face and gives his golden eyes an unnerving shade of scarlet. Dabi wonders again why he thought it would be a good idea to bring that bitchy blond to retrieve that dragon horns dust.
Well, he kinda knows. Hawks is a pain in the ass but he’s powerful and his snobbish academia had taught him tricks and spells Dabi would never even start to imagine. Hawks is an asshole but at least, he’s efficient. And more bearable than most of the witches and normies Dabi had the bad luck to run into.
Kinda. Maybe.
Whatever.
The angry reptile finally stops its bitchy fit to catch its breath, giving a short reprieve to the two witches huddled behind a poor rock, barely big enough to shelter them and their weapons. Dabi’s eyes wander longingly toward the entrance of the cavern, so close and yet so far. He can almost smell the fragrance of the pines out there. Or maybe it’s his imagination. Probably. The cave reeks of smoke and charred — Better not think about this.
Hawks viciously pinches Dabi’s thigh and snaps him out his dark thoughts. “Oy. You’re going to use your two psilocybin-addled brain cells and find a solution now or I swear to the Goddess, I’ll shove my blade up your ass.”
Dabi blinks, trying to make sense of Hawks’ words, and is about to snap back but a sudden roar pierces his ears and rattles his very bones. They both hunch when the inferno picks up again behind them. Stupid, lazy cunt-lizard. It could have just eaten them without trying to turn them into kebabs, it would have saved everyone time.
Chips of rock rain on them and Dabi knows that their meager cover won’t last much longer. Dabi snaps his fingers and the familiar weight of Grimoire falls into his open hand. The worn-out leather cover against his palm is comforting, a reassuring feeling that not all hope is lost. He tucks his staff against his shoulder and flips through the pages. In the best conditions, Dabi generally struggles with deciphering the dancing runes, despite decades of practice. Master Stain was an autoditact himself and his pedagogy — uuuuh well, not everyone can be a teacher. So yeah, now that his back is about to spontaneously catch fire and he’s that close to finishing his overcooked bacon transformation, it’s not exactly easy to make sense of the cryptic symbols on the pages.
He mumbles under his breath, scanning desperately through the cream pages as fast as he can. His eyes finally catch a familiar rune. Power up . The following are too hard to decipher. Something something with another witch . Something something mixing blood. Something something sharing power.
That will do.
Hopefully.
He squints at the stupid Latin formula. It doesn’t make any sense to him but he just needs to read it without stuttering. A quick spell gets the Grimoire to levitate in front of his eyes. Hawks glances at the floating book without being able to read the gibberish on the vellum paper. A Grimoire’s content is readable by its witch and its witch only, and sometimes, Dabi wished it wasn’t the case. He could have used Hawks’ mastery of runes on this one. Without looking, Dabi fetches the dagger hidden in his boot and with a quick gesture, he draws blood from the palm of his hand.
“Gimme your hand,” he orders.
“What are you doing?” Hawks hisses.
“You ask me for a solution, I’m giving you a solution. Now shut your trap and gimme your hand.”
As if on cue, the rock starts to crumble behind them and Hawks hurries to give his left hand to Dabi. Curses fall from Hawks’ lips when the dagger bites into his flesh but Dabi doesn’t pay attention to it. He clasps their hands together, fingers interlaced, and reads the incantation three times, one for him, one for Hawks, one for the Goddess.
The last word rolls off his tongue and a surge of power makes his blood sing in his veins. Everything seems clearer, the colors sharper, the sounds close to overwhelming but most of all, the presence of Hawks pulses next to him, bright and warm.
For the first time in his life, Dabi feels powerful, enough to take over the whole world. As long as his hand will be in Hawks’, he will be able to do anything.
Including slaying a furious dragon.
He summons his fire and instead of the usual tame-ish flames, barely hot enough to boil water, a furnace that could rival the reptile trying to barbecue them lights up under his skin. He holds it in despite the unpleasant sensation of his blood turning into magma. He clenches his fingers around Hawks’, waiting for the dragon to stop vomiting flames so he can stand up. The other witch is strangely quiet but Dabi doesn’t have time to think about it. The fire dies down and Dabi jumps into action. The flames that leave his hand are not the classic orange and red ones. They are blue and white and hotter than anything Dabi ever experienced so far. His allegedly fire-proof glove turns into ashes, and the skin of his forearm blisters and burns. The pain doesn’t register, drowned in the maelstrom of raw power engulfing his whole body and mind. His heart thunders in his ears, he’s hyper-aware of everything that surrounds him, especially of the hand in his that acts like an anchor, the peaceful center of the chaotic storm Dabi is unleashing.
The dragon shrieks and retreats under the torrent of flames assaulting its massive frame. Dabi lets out a high-pitch laugh and summons more flames. Rocks above their heads crack threateningly under the heat but Dabi can’t stop, drunk on the power coursing through his system.
Hawks tugs on his hand, saying something Dabi doesn’t comprehend. The other witch tugs again and starts dragging Dabi toward the entrance of the cavern. Dabi is torn between the need to make sure the monster is slayed for good and following Hawks. In the end, the latter wins the battle. The simple idea of letting go of Hawks’ hand is making Dabi sick.
The cold wind of the night replaces the heat of the cavern and Dabi stops the inferno. The surge of power ebbs away and leaves him dizzy. His left arm is a massive, throbbing burn, but nothing he never dealt with before. The pain is still a bitch though.
“The fuck was that?” Hawks mumbles, seemingly out of breath too.
Dabi blinks and finally takes a look at Hawks as he tries to shake off the weird daze he’s still in. “Huh?”
Hawks’ hand lets go of Dabi’s and Dabi feels like someone just dropped a bucket of ice-cold water on him. Nausea hits him like an unstoppable wave and makes his stomach churns painfully. Dabi stumbles toward a bush and empties the content of his stomach. He faintly hears Hawks doing the same, retching and coughing pitifully.
Oir changes back from her staff form to the regular grey tabby cat and she bumps her head against his calf.
“I’m fine,” Dabi mumbles before dry heaving once more. For fuck’s sake, what’s happening?
Hawks wobbles past him, his stupidly pretty face all pale and exhausted. Dick-the-crow perches on his shoulder and pecks at the matted blond hair with what’s probably affection. Dabi pushes away from the tree that supported his weight until now and falls into step with Hawks.
The blond witch glares at him over his shoulder, mimicked by his obnoxious bird with her vicious red eyes. “Why are you following me? Your hut is in the other direction.”
Dabi shrugs and tries to smile but he’s not quite sure of the result. “Your place is nearer.”
“And?”
“And I’m crashing at yours.” Dabi limps to reach Hawks’ side. “I’m too tired to go back to mine.”
Hawks opens his mouth to retort but his knees buckle under his weight and forbid him to snap back. Instinctively, Dabi reaches for Hawks’ hand to prevent him from kissing the ground. The wounds of their hand press together again, their bloods mingle, and suddenly, nausea and dizziness recede enough to be bearable. Dabi blinks, confused and Hawks straightens up with a frown, staring at their linked hands and then at Dabi.
“What the hell have you done, you dumb fuck?”