Chapter Text
Fire races through the forest. Trees and animals are incinerated by the bright blue destruction. Smoke rises into the sky, a suffocating blanket of darkness to blot out the starry night. To some, the sparks of flying ash like fireflies might be beautiful. The light dancing in Dabi’s eyes only serves as a grim reminder of the evil he’s capable of.
It should be refreshing to let his power loose like this, and in a way it is. Just as this fire serves as a reminder to himself, it also strikes fear into the hearts of wannabe heroes. It’s satisfying to see that fear reflected back in the eyes of the pros trying to fight him. As someone who never had any power as a child with a dangerous quirk and unstable mind, the power and respect he commands makes him feel... really good.
What doesn’t feel good is the way he feels phsyically. His insides are burning, his skin so hot that any sweat is immediately evaporated. Smoke rises from his extensive scar tissue like some kind of grotesque human ventilation system. The staples barely keeping his patchwork body from falling apart are halfway to melting and add to the burning sensation he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.
The hero, Eraserhead, comes rushing out of the little building in the middle of the forest. He freezes when he sees Dabi’s blue flames consuming the forest around them. “This is bad,” he says, thinking nobody is around to hear his nervousness.
Dabi has heard about Eraserhead. He made sure to memorize all the names and quirks of everyone at the training camp, just in case. Knowing that he was going to end up fighting the pros more than the students, he had paid special attention to Eraserhead and Blood King.
Shigaraki and Kurogiri had described Eraser before here and there. From their fight at USJ, they had noticed that Eraser’s hair floats when his quirk is active, and that it has a time limit. He also is a strong and capable pro hero, but he doesn’t do so well against a large group for long stretches of time. Dabi is neither of those things, so he figured a surprise attack would be best.
Dabi smirks and holds up a hand, calling forth his flames without holding anything back. “Letting your worry get ahead of you, Eraser?”
The hero turns a shocked face in Dabi’s direction, realizing his mistake too late. Dabi’s hand is already a bright blue.
Letting loose his uncontrollable power, Dabi fires a massive whirlwind of fire, large enough to cover the entire front of the building. It’s such a big blast that Dabi is knocked back slightly, his hand flinging out behind him.
He still has trouble with the knock-back of his quirk. He’s not used to letting it all out like this, having only used it in short bursts or not at all before joining the League. Being as skinny as he is, Dabi finds himself being shoved around by his own power. If only he could actually gain some muscle…
His permanent scowl deepens as the fire fades and Eraser is perched on a space above the door, just high enough to have dodged his attack. The scarf that was resting on his shoulders is puffed out and snapping like angry snakes made of cloth.
“Well,” Dabi drawls, “I guess you are a pro after all.”
Holding up another hand, he’s only slightly surprised when no flames roar to life this time. Eraser’s eyes are glowing an ominous red now. Eraserhead was probably the worst hero Dabi could’ve gone up against, and he’s realizing that fully now.
He had known before that if his surprise attack doesn’t work, then he’s probably doomed. Steeling himself as much as his weak body will allow, Dabi waits for the inevitable retaliation.
“Nothing’s gonna come out,” the hero points out, stating what they both already know.
Eraser’s scarf whips towards Dabi before he has a chance to react, snaking around his arms and chest. The cloth rubs against his smoking scars, making them tighten and stretch painfully. Dabi has to grit his teeth, a small hiss of air escaping him.
The hero pulls Dabi forward at the same time as he lunges, sending Dabi into a spiral before pushing him face-first into the ground. There’s a knee on his back digging in mercilessly while one hand grips his hair to keep his head down and another holds his left arm high enough to keep him from moving.
Dabi is trapped beneath him, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of the game yet.
“Tell me your purpose, number, and positions,” Eraser demands, holding Dabi’s arm a little higher threateningly.
The pain makes Dabi tremble slightly, but he covers it up with a breathy chuckle. “Why?”
“Because otherwise this will happen.”
Suddenly Eraser pulls Dabi’s arm back too far. There’s an audible crack as his bones are popped out of place roughly. Dabi tenses, nearly bites clean through his tongue at the sharp spike to his already frayed nerves.
“Are you in a hurry, Eraser?” he manages to grit out, smiling almost maniacally as the monster inside him pushes itself to the front of his mind. A fire lights on his hair, his quirk responding to his pain and intense emotions.
It’s quickly put out when the hero takes his other arm and pops that one out just as painfully. This time Dabi really does bite through his tongue.
An ominous rumbling sound momentarily distracts Eraser, along with the voice of some student. That’s another thing that he had learned from Kurogiri and Shigaraki’s remenicience of USJ. Eraser cares for his students more than anything else. He’s willing to put himself in harm’s way in order to protect them, like a good little teacher. They are his weakness.
Dabi takes the opportunity to buck the hero off, rolling until he’s standing again with Eraser’s scarf still wrapped around him in a crushing grip.
He takes a deep breath and trembles slightly as his two useless arms are jostled. He stands up a little straighter and grins at Eraser. Blue eyes lock with red.
“Hey hero. Are your students important?” Eraser tenses, gripping his scarf like he’s about to throw Dabi again. “I hope you can protect them all till the end.”
He makes it sound threatening, but the reality of the situation is so much more complex for Dabi. Shigaraki’s kill list sits heavy in his pocket. When they had all been given these lists, Dabi had felt an acute nausea roll through him. Others in the vanguard were just as horrified at the idea of killing kids, but some had looked downright enthusiastic and Dabi had kept his mouth shut. As leader of the vanguard, Dabi had mapped out their entire plan so that there would be no casualties if he could help it.
It’s supposed to sound like a taunt, but Dabi genuinely hopes that nobody will have to die today.
Before Eraser can react to his taunting, the gaggle of teens by the edge of the woods come running for their teacher. The hero turns to look at them, and that gives Dabi the moment he needs to escape.
With no time to at least semi-safely build up his energy, Dabi lets loose everything he has, resigned to dealing with the consequences. A huge burst of blue fire engulfs Dabi’s lanky frame, swallowing him whole before throwing itself haphazardly in all directions. For once in his life, Dabi is glad his fire has a mind of its own.
The scarf wrapped around Dabi’s arms is incinerated. Eraser leaps for his students, possibly as an attempt to shield them from the blast. He doesn’t make it in time.
Dabi doesn’t want anyone to die today, but he feels little remorse as he watches Eraser get thrown several meters away vaguely in the direction of the kids.
Ignoring the sizzling of his skin, Dabi books it in the direction he came from.
As he runs through the forest with his arms flailing uselessly behind him and a new layer of burns to tend to, Dabi wishes he had listened to Twice’s suggestion that he create clones to send after the pros. He had refused simply because he’s not sure his clones would have the same self-control that he would. He’d rather not have so much blood on his hands.
When Dabi crashes through the brush back to the clearing, Twice startles with almost comical exaggeration. “Dabi! What happened?! Who cares.”
Ignoring Twice’s split personality, Dabi leans against a tree to catch his breath. He spits blood from his mouth and puts on an angry scowl.
“Eraser was tougher than I expected. Should’ve taken your offer.”
“No shit! Wait, what happened to your arms?”
“Dislocated,” Dabi supplies tersely, scowling down at the numb and unresponsive limbs.
“I can help! Ew, get away from me.” Twice raises a hand invitingly.
Dabi hesitates, warry of causing more damage. He’s also surprised that Twice would care at all. Dabi hasn’t been the most friendly of League members. He’s distant and guarded on a good day but more irritable and rude otherwise. He’s barely talked to anyone.
A few others have made somewhat of an effort to get to know him. Twice, Toga, and Spinner are the first to come to mind. But they still barely know each other. Any other villain would probably insult him or laugh about how easily their supposed leader gets hurt. Not Twice though, apparently. Eventually, he nods.
Twice shoots finger guns at him and reaches for Dabi’s right arm. Dabi turns so it’s easier for Twice to reach, wincing as the other villain prods at the area. With absolutely no warning, Twice palm strikes his shoulder forward with a loud pop.
The jolt takes Dabi by surprise. He doubles over with a pained grunt. More blood spills into his mouth from his already abused tongue, slipping past his teeth and onto the ground.
“Sorry! Totally not sorry!” Twice waves his hands back and forth like he’s pleading for his life. He probably assumes that Dabi is going to burn him, and if it were anyone else he might have.
Dabi spits blood onto the ground again and takes a deep breath, straightening up. He gestures to his other arm tiredly and thankfully Twice doesn’t need more of an invitation.
Another strike and Dabi’s other arm pops back into place. He’s prepared this time and his only reaction is a short grunt.
Bringing his aching right arm up, Dabi is just barely able to close his hand into a fist. Pain pulses up his arm with every tiny movement. That’ll be a pain later. More importantly, they need to wrap this up so Dabi can go home and treat his burns.
“Thanks,” Dabi says to Twice before leading them through the forest towards their meetup point. They’ve done what they can for now.
“Poor little Shoto Todoroki.”
The taunt lacks Dabi’s usual grin and scowl. His expression is blank but his eyes are searching, staring pointedly at Shouto and nobody else.
He hasn’t seen Shoto face-to-face in so long. Of course he saw the sports festival and he had marvelled at how much raw power the kid had. His heart had stuttered in his chest when he saw the blank, expressionless look that he wore throughout most of the festival. A kid that young shouldn’t have that kind of look.
Dabi knew that Shoto would be here, but he never expected to actually run into him. In fact, he had purposefully avoided the area that he would be in just so this encounter wouldn’t happen. But here they are…
His hand closes around Bakugou’s neck, heating up his palm in warning as he pulls them through the warp.
He still doesn’t think this kidnapping thing is a good idea, or at least they should have taken a different kid. The way Bakugou had acted at the sports festival had made him seem completely feral. They already have enough people like that in the League as is. But he supposes he should be thankful that they didn’t end up targeting Shoto instead.
The swirling black and purple of the warp swallows them up. Dabi’s own blue eyes lock with one of the exact same color. It’s almost painful for him to not say something now that they’re both right here, but he knows that would only invite disaster.
Just before Dabi can step all the way through, Shouto’s eyes light up in surprise and then something else.
Confusion.
Terror.
Recognition.
It’s a terrifying sight for Dabi. He looks so different now after all these years, there’s no way Shouto could possibly know…
They fall through the portal before anything else happens. Dabi inhales shakily.
“Dabi, release his restraints.”
Dabi turns to Shigaraki with a raised eyebrow and a questioning hum. “He’s gonna fight, you know.”
Shigaraki might not know the ins and outs of angry kids and their social cues, but Dabi certainly does. With the way that Bakugou has been glaring at everyone in the bar since the moment he got here and the subtle twitching of his body, Dabi is certain Bakugou will fight tooth and nail to escape no matter how bad his odds are.
They really should have taken someone else.
“It’s fine,” Shigaraki insists lightly. “We need to treat him like an equal, since we’re scouting him.” He turns to Katsuki. “Besides, you can tell if you’ll win or not if you fight in this situation, right UA student?”
Bakugou visibly tenses, but the look in his eyes only grows stronger, fueled by rage.
Dabi levels the kid with a tired look. If Shigaraki is expecting this kid to be smart, he’s going to be disappointed. And anyway, Dabi has no interest in taking any more damage than he already has. He still hasn’t treated his wounds, and his arms are still aching…
“Twice, you do it.”
Twice startles, waving his hands around wildly in clear nervousness. “What, me? No way.” Bakugou glares at them both, a challenging look in his eye as he turns to Dabi.
“Do it,” he says louder, a direct command.
“Man…” Twice sighs before stepping towards the kid.
Dabi almost feels bad for Twice. Almost…
He tunes out Compress’s long-winded apology as he watches Bakugou. The kid seems to relax as Twice fiddles with all the locks, but Dabi can still see the tenseness. The kid is wound up like a spring, ready to throw the first punch.
It’s in the middle of Shigaraki’s rant that it finally happens. The kid rubs at his chaffed wrists as their leader walks towards him. Only Dabi notices the kid’s bright red eyes flashing up dangerously before Twice is kicked back and an explosion hits Shigaraki so hard that his freaky mask falls off.
The kid speaks his mind and Dabi is slightly taken aback by just how determined he is. What he’s more worried about, though, is the unnatural stillness of Shigaraki as he stares at the hand resting on the floor.
“I thought we could come to an understanding,” Shigaraki says after a long and eerie silence.
“Come to an understanding? No way,” the kid hisses back, shifting into a lower stance.
A cold chill runs down Dabi’s spine. There’s no way this is going to end well. He’s almost certain that something bad is going to happen.
“Then I have no choice…”
Not even Dabi can react before Shigaraki is lunging forward faster than he thought the man capable. A hand closes around Bakugou’s face, all five fingers pressing down before the kid or anyone else has a chance to react.
The kid screams.
Dabi watches in shocked horror as he doubles over in pain, hands shielding his face from further attack. Dabi can see one wide, unseeing eye filled with terror between the gaps in his fingers.
Shigaraki doesn’t let up, placing his other hand on Bakugou’s back, eroding part of his shirt and then the skin of his back.
The screams…
Dabi doesn’t think, only reacts.
His own hand, heated from his barely-controlled fire, closes around Shigaraki’s wrist enough to get him off the kid but not so much that it might be seen as a threat. He knows that threatening Shigaraki like this will not go over well for him.
“What are you doing?” Dabi hisses low enough for just their leader to hear. He pointedly ignores the kid as he collapses on the floor, curled up on himself and trembling.
Shigaraki is frozen, staring off into space. Dabi knows that look, though, and keeps a tight grip. Whenever Shigaraki is like this, the rest of the league knows to stay far away. He needs to tread carefully.
When the other villain doesn’t answer, he relaxes his grip and backs off slightly. “We need the kid alive. We might not be able to turn him, but if he’s dead we can’t use him as bait and our entire mission was just a huge waste of time.”
Shigaraki takes his arm from Dabi’s grip and he lets it slide, subtly placing himself between his leader and the kid instead.
He never expected Shigaraki to do something like this, although it really shouldn’t come as a surprise. He almost killed a bunch of kids at USJ too, only stopped by Eraserhead’s quirk and All Might’s perfectly timed appearance.
“And what do you suggest we do with him, Dabi?” Shigaraki’s tone is not a nice one but he refuses to be intimidated by the grown-up child.
“All for One’s entire goal is to defeat All Might, right? Use the kid to lure him in like you were already planning. It doesn’t make much of a difference whether the kid is a willing participant or not, only that he’s alive enough to be of use.”
It’s a big risk to mention All for One right now, but Dabi is fueled by adrenaline right now and doesn’t really know what else to say. Hopefully reminding Shigaraki about his mentor will calm him down and make him think more rationally.
There are several seconds where the entire room falls into a tense silence, everyone waiting to see what happens next. Dabi is prepared to deal with whatever fallout he gets from this, steeling himself.
“He’s already dying,” Shigaraki points out. He’s more relaxed now, his expression becoming disinterested and bored once again. For now at least, the kid is safe.
Dabi decidedly does not breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’ll deal with it.”
A few more seconds of silence ensues as Shigaraki looks him over critically before shrugging and walking off.
Dabi watches him go, along with a few others who would clearly rather be anywhere else. Once it’s just him, the kid, and two or three other villains hovering on the other side of the room, he kneels down to inspect the damage.
The kid is curled up on himself still, knees against his chest and arms shielding his face. A fine tremor rolls through his body periodically and a few tiny whimpers can be heard.
Dabi nearly breaks at the sight. Luckily he’s able to reign in his emotions while others are in the room, but he’s sure he won’t be able to keep it up for long. The kid is really hurt…
The back of Bakugou’s shirt is eroded through, leaving the front half barely holding on. Dabi can’t see the kid’s face, but his back is a mess. Almost all of the skin of the upper part of his back has been peeled off, some of the muscle underneath gone too. The wound is greyish and not bleeding much, but there’s still a sizable hole in him that needs to be tended to immediately.
With how weak Dabi is combined with how heavy he’s sure this kid is, there’s no way he would be able to carry him upstairs to his room by himself. He’s not comfortable letting anyone else near the kid, so he’s going to need Bakugou to get up himself.
“Hey, kid,” he says quietly, mindful of the other people in the room trying and failing not to stare. When there’s no reaction, Dabi prods at the kid’s arm a little.
He tenses, but doesn’t do much else.
Dabi huffs in mock annoyance.
Making a fist, Dabi gently knocks his hand against the kid’s shoulder.
The jolt he gets in respone tugs at his heart slightly. He doesn’t mean to hurt the kid, but he doesn’t have many options here.
One of Bakugou’s arms lowers just enough for Dabi to spy a bright red eye staring up at him. The kid looks like he’s barely holding back tears but he still tries to make himself look angry.
“Get up,” Dabi says flatly. “I can’t carry you and I don’t think you want to stay down here.”
He’s acutely aware of the others listening in, so a flat tone is the best way to go. He doesn’t want to deal with the other villains in the League becoming suspicious of him. He’s going to be under enough scrutiny as is.
The kid tenses, relaxes, and tenses again. Dabi would rather not get an explosion to the face for his trouble, so he interrupts whatever the kid is thinking about to hold out a hand.
Bakugou stares at his hand skeptically. Dabi waits patiently.
A shaky, hesitant arm reaches out and Dabi grips the kid’s wrist firmly, tugging him up gently.
Bakugou uncurls, struggling to get up on his own. His head is down but his tired scowl is easily seen. Dabi tries his best not to hurt the kid too much as he tugs.
Once they’re both standing, Dabi pulls him close and wraps an arm around his waist for support. Bakugou tenses at the closeness but doesn’t try to push away. They both know that would only cause more problems.
Going up the stairs is a challenge, but they get there eventually. Dabi lets the kid go at his own pace, but the longer it takes the more aggitated Dabi becomes. The blatant staring doesn’t help.
After nearly thirty minutes since this whole thing started, they finally make it to Dabi’s room. He guides the kid to his bed and makes sure he can hold himself up before closing and locking the door.
Bakugou sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his head down. Despite not being able to see the kid’s face, Dabi feels the eyes on him.
Tugging off his coat to drop haphazardly on the floor, Dabi heads for the connected bathroom where he keeps a first aid kit and other supplies.
Out of everyone else in the League, Dabi has the most medical supplies. The scars covering his body are high maintenance, unfortunately, and require regular treatment to prevent infection and other nasty things. Hopefully he has enough to treat whatever Shigaraki did to the kid.
Kneeling beside the bed, he sets the kit down. “Turn around so I can reach your back.”
There’s a moment of hesitation again before the kid turns, tense and trembling, clearly in pain. Dabi dumps some pain meds in the kid’s upturned hand wordlessly before getting to work.
Dabi loses himself to the familiar work. He cleans off the wound, clips off as much dead tissue as he can without causing too much pain, cleans it again, sprays disinfectant (which earns him a strangled half-scream from the kid), and eventually wraps him up like a mummy.
Next is the face. Dabi nudges the kid so he turns back around. He grips the kid’s chin carefully and turns his head so Dabi can see it better from different angles. It’s not pretty.
Five small points on the kid’s face are decayed or already falling off. Luckily the wounds are shallow and should be easy to work with.
Bakugou keeps his face tilted up but doesn’t seem to be completely aware that he’s doing it. His eyes are distant, his expression much more relaxed but also filled with a sort of melancholy that Dabi knows well. He’s dissociated enough times to recognize it.
The kid is completely silent while he works, these wounds much less painful. Once Dabi is done covering it all with bandages, Bakugou is still exactly the same.
Dabi sighs, packing up his supplies to return to the bathroom later. He takes the opportunity to take off his boots and change into some more comfortable pants before kneeling by the kid again.
“Hey, kid.”
No response. He’s not surprised.
Sighing again, Dabi lights a small flame in the palm of his hand and holds it near the kid. Not close enough to burn, but enough to feel the sweltering heat.
It takes a second, but the kid jolts, confusion and fear quickly giving way to a hateful glare.
Dabi puts out his fire and raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
“You hungry?”
The kid looks like he’s about to snap at him, but a faint rumbling from his stomach interrupts him.
Dabi smirks and the kid scowls. “I’ll go get some soba.” He stands up to stretch and heads for the door. “Try not to disassociate again while I’m gone. Should only be a few minutes.”
He closes the door without waiting for a reply.
There are a few more people in the bar now that there’s no more crazziness. Dabi ignores the stares as he sticks some soba in the microwave, leaning against the counter casually as he waits. He has to remind himself not the tense up or else they’ll be suspicious.
“You shouldn’t leave him in a room by himself,” Kurogiri speaks up from not far away. He’s cleaning dishes again.
Dabi shrugs. “With those wounds, he’s not going anywhere fast.”
With the wounds that Bakugou has, he’s lucky if he can raise his arms above his head let alone try and escape. Hopefully the kid realizes that, but Dabi isn’t so sure he wouldn’t try anyway. In any case, it’s unlikely that he would try anything so soon, and even if he did Dabi is more than capable of handling it.
A moment of silence and then, “How is he doing?”
Dabi levels Kurogiri with a considering look, wondering why he would care enough to ask. He’s never cared about anyone other than Shigaraki before…
“He’s fine,” he says simply, turning back to the soba. “He’s tired and stressed but not in pain anymore.”
Kurogiri hums and doesn’t say anything more.
The microwave beeps. Dabi pulls the soba out and heads back upstairs. Opening the door, he’s not entirely surprised by what he sees.
The kid is leaning heavily on the desk pushed up below the only window in the room, gravity dragging him towards the floor and panting heavily. He’s clearly struggling to stand and the motion is causing him pain, but he still glares daggers at Dabi and tries to heave himself up more.
Dabi rolls his eyes and locks the door behind him. Bakugou tenses as he gets closer, but Dabi just pulls out the chair from the desk and motions for the kid to sit.
Yet again, he hesitates, scowling at Dabi and the chair.
“Do you want food or not?” He shakes the little plastic tin invitingly.
The kid scowls but relents eventually, sinking into the chair. Dabi scoots the chair towards the desk and sets the cup down.
Sighing, Dabi plops down on his bed and begins the tedious task of making sure his body is working correctly. He stretches his left arm above his head as high as it will go, wincing at the throbbing of what little muscle he has. He does the same with the right arm, and then both at once. He rolls his shoulders and neck, even checks the flexibility of his spine.
Everything seems to be normal besides the aching in his arms and shoulders. That should be gone after a week or two.
Next he prods at all his new burns, some of them more painful than others. He keeps some burn cream on the edge of his desk at all times, so he reaches for it and begins spreading it across all the worst ones. Some of them have already started to scab over, but the still open wounds are soothed by the ointment.
After that, he checks for missing or bent staples. He finds a few that are warped and one or two that were snapped in two, removing them carefully and tossing them in the trashcan that he always keeps by the bed. He picks the medical stapler off of his desk, right next to where the cream was, and gets to work replacing everything that’s missing.
He’s halfway through when Bakugou suddenly speaks up. “Why don’t you just use stitches?”
The kid’s tired, slightly raspy voice startles Dabi. He had completely forgotten he wasn’t alone, too caught up in the motions he goes through nearly every night. He pauses in his stapling to look up at Katsuki’s intense red eyes.
The kid has his legs crossed on the chair, soba resting precariously on one knee and already half empty. His arms are crossed loosely and the scowl is back on his face.
“No such thing as fire-proof sutures with my quirk.”
Dabi’s quirk had always burned through even the toughest fire-proof material. His flames are blue, after all, hotter than red fire. Even the staples barely hold up against them. If he could help it, he wouldn’t use staples or sutures, but his scarred skin stretches so much that he needs the staples to keep him from falling apart completely and looking even more like a monster than he already does.
“Is that why you’re covered in burns, then?”
Dabi scowls at the kid, leaning back on his hands. “We can’t all be winners, kid.”
“I’m not a kid!” he pouts indignantly.
Dabi rolls his eyes and takes up the stapler again. “Whatever you say, kid.”
The silence of the room is broken only by the stapler and Bakugou’s eating. For once it’s a comfortable silence instead of the dangerous tension he usually feels. Even if Shigaraki kills Dabi tomorrow, at least he has this.
By the time Dabi is done, the kid has finished his food and is tiredly staring off into space. He looks just about ready to pass out.
Remembering the tattered remains of the kid’s shirt, Dabi gets up to retrieve a spare shirt he doesn’t use anymore and tosses it to Bakugou.
The kid is startled slightly but realizes what Dabi wants him to do quickly enough. He tugs his shirt carefully up and over his head, avoiding the injury, and throws it towards the trashcan. He puts the new shirt on just as carefully.
Surprisingly, the shirt isn’t too big on the kid, if a little long. Dabi smirks at the kid’s indignant look, which only makes him pout more.
“Alright kid,” he begins, getting up to push the chair towards the bed. “Bedtime for you.”
He gives Dabi a halfhearted scowl but seems to gratefully accept an excuse to sleep. He maneuvers himself from the chair onto the bed and wraps himself in the blanket.
Once he’s settled down on the bed and Dabi has returned the chair to the desk, Bakugou asks, “Where’re you gonna sleep?”
“I’m not gonna sleep,” he says offhandedly, sitting in the chair and pulling out a sketchbook to keep himself busy.
“Didn’t know y’could draw, frickin‘ nerd…”
Dabi turns, ready to retort right back, but just as he opens his mouth he realizes that the kid is fast asleep.
“Brat.”