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“You can’t hide from your Quirk forever.” Your fingers trail along his back, draw gentle loops over ridges of bone that jut out too far for your liking against his skin. “Leaving it alone only makes it worse.”
“Watch me,” he grumbles, all hoarse growls from deep in a smoke-damaged throat. “Can’t live with the stupid fucking thing, can’t live without it.” He burrows deeper into the blankets, even though the heat is stifling even from outside the cocoon he keeps wrapped around himself.
“I can help,” you say quietly, and a blue eye emerges from the tangled pile, bright and furious as it stares you down, but you reach out to trace the scarred flesh beneath it, touch delicate as it passes over the staples keeping his skin in place. “Please, baby. I know it’s hurting you.”
“No.” He disappears again and you let your hand fall, but his slithers out to grab at your thigh, hot palm scorching against skin left bare by pyjama shorts.
“Why not? My Quirk-“
“I don’t give a fuck about your Quirk,” he spits from his nest, twisting himself to disengage from you entirely, and you pause, knowing that you’ve stepped on dangerous ground. “I don’t need to take it from you to help me.”
“I’m offering it,” you protest, poking forward into his ire. “I can help you and I want to help you, so let me.” The temperature creeps steadily upwards as his quirk responds to his distress, and he groans as the smell of singed flesh fills the bedroom. “Please, Dabi.” That seems to do him in; an almighty sigh deflating his hunched figure.
“Ah, shit. Fuckin’- fine.” The blankets are tossed aside, wisps of smoke trailing from finger-shaped scorches on the fabric, but you’re preoccupied with crawling into his arms. You don’t activate your Quirk just yet - your naturally lower temperature already leeching heat from Dabi’s torrid flesh. The sigh that rattles you from where you lay tucked against him is more than gratifying, and you smile, toy with the overgrown ends of his black hair.
“Better?” Your voice is a whisper, lost against Dabi’s bare skin as his touch skims the base of your spine, dragging your shirt higher up your back.
“Yeah.” His pride isn’t too great to let him admit that the pain eases with your cool skin pressed to his, even when it puts pressure to the stapled lines. It grounds his thoughts, keeps him anchored to the slightly cramped bed you tangle up together in.
“You’re so stubborn,” you mumble, twirling black hair around your fingertips. “Hardheaded asshole.” He hums agreement, tension draining out of his gaunt frame as your cold body sucks out the heat generated by his, bringing you both to a pleasant equilibrium.
“Pushy bitch,” he murmurs back, ducking his chin to kiss your forehead. “Always gotta be looking out for me, huh? Like some sorta mean ass guardian angel.” You grin, tilt your head up to receive a kiss, and he taps along your hip with his slim fingers, moves down to hitch your thigh over his own to pull you in closer.
“Someone needs to keep you alive,” you grumble against his staples and scars, and he snorts, pushes at your shoulder to roll you onto your back. His weight is comforting as he settles atop you, face buried in the curve of your neck, and it’s your turn to run your fingers along his spine as he holds your hips. “Without me, you’d keel over in a minute, tops.”
“Mmm.” You lay in silence together, his hair tickling your face, and his thumbs brushing gentle circles on the soft skin of your sides. “Remember the first time we spoke?” You laugh as the memory surfaces, and he snickers into your shoulder.
“My face was all bloody, and you still said yes to dinner,” you say, swiping your tongue around your mouth, brushing it against the still-chipped tooth at the front of your jaw. “Some fucker called you a freak, I think?”
“Yeah. There were three of them. You didn’t even hesitate, though. Didn’t know me, either, just heard it in passing and stepped over to start some shit. Dumb fuck that said it went down like a log.”
“Heh. Others took me a minute, but I got them.”
“I would’ve just fried them if you weren’t there,” he admits, and it’s your turn to snort.
“I know. But I’m glad I was.”
“Me too. Got a free meal with a hot stranger out of it,” he teases, and you groan, shoving him off to the side and making an attempt to wiggle out from under him.
“Oh, fuck off.” He laughs and traps you easily with an arm at either side of your head, lifting himself up onto his elbows to give him a view of your face. He doesn’t waver, even when you pinch his side and nudge at him with your knee. “Get off me, you brat.” His eyebrows rise, sleepy eyes opening wider.
“Brat, huh?”
“Yes, you oversized two year old,” you huff, pushing at his chest. He watches your futile efforts for a minute before dropping himself down onto you, trapping your hands between your chests. “Hey!”
“Hmm? Something wrong, babydoll?” You glare at him, and he smiles serenely back until your expression fades into a soft, fond look. “There you are,” he murmurs, eyelids fluttering as he basks in the love he can feel in your gaze. “There’s my angel.”
“Stubborn brat,” you whisper back, wiggling your hands free to bring them up to his face. Dabi leans into the touch, hums what could pass as a human purr when your thumb strokes his cheek, dips lower to brush along his lips. “Let me look after you, dumbass. I love you.”
“Ah.” The sigh your words punch out of him is exultant; a reverent noise of delight that has the corners of his mouth curling cheshire. “God, say it again.”
“I love you.” Your voice is velvet against his skin; a sharp contrast to his own brontide tone as you stroke a hand through his dark hair, and he shivers as you pluck at the base of his neck. “Today a little less than tomorrow, but more than yesterday.” He snickers, even though you can see the pink blush on his cheekbones.
“You’ve been reading poetry again.” You don’t bother denying it - he’s seen your book collection. “I love you,” he whispers back, each word carefully, slowly shaped by his mouth. “More than everything and everyone.” He ticks his head against your neck, and you doze together in the cramped full-size bed.
You wake up to Dabi pressing kisses to your body. He puts no pattern, no obvious path to the affection, and you lay quietly as he lays his love on your skin, his focus often drifting back to your belly and chest, which warms both your heart and your ears. There’s a spot high on your thigh that his thumb presses into for a moment before he shifts down to reach it, fingers dancing to another spot near the crook of your knee.
“Someone’s feeling good,” you comment, and he chuckles, warm tongue dragging over the curve of your knee.
“All thanks to you, honey.” He sighs, crawls up the bed to flop down and pull you into him. “Fuck. I’m crazy about you, you know that, right?” You squeeze his forearm gently, pull his hand to your mouth to lay kisses to each knuckle.
“I know.”
“Mmm, good.” Dabi hesitates, then sighs again. “I’m... sorry, about earlier. Sometimes I feel like my old man, you know? Like I’ll run too hot, and anyone who gets close to me will burn up.” You splay his fingers, line them up to your own, lace them together, trace almost invisible scars that crisscross his digits.
“I know.”
“Last thing I ever wanna do is hurt you,” he continues, brushing aside a clump of your hair to press a kiss to the back of your neck. “But I know I gotta let you in more often. Pushing you away is just as bad as suffocating you.” You press the pad of his thumb to your lips, and he strokes along your jaw with his other fingers. “I’m still fucking terrible at this whole... feelings shit, but you always make me want to improve. I’m already so much better than I was.” You close your eyes, think of the angry man that would have never laid in bed with you with so much skin on display, and you smile fondly.
“I remember, when we first got together, you told me it would take a miracle for you to stick around.”
“What an asshole,” Dabi grumbles, and you laugh.
“He’s my asshole, though.” You roll in his arms, look up at his amused expression. “Still is. I’m proud of you, Dabi, no matter how little progress you think you’ve made. I see how far you’ve come.”
Few pleasures in life match up to watching Dabi’s face flush with embarrassment. You’ll never get tired of seeing it, no matter how many times you make it happen.
“Fuck,” he laughs. “God, you’re something else.” You shake your head, peering at him with a smile that makes his heart flutter.
“I just love you, Dabi.” His eyes crinkle, and he shuffles down in the bed to press the tip of his nose to yours, foreheads bumping gently together and making you giggle.
“I love you.”