Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Previously, Dabi had heard of the concept of seeing a stranger so beautiful that they just refused to leave somebody’s head, running rampant through their thoughts and occupying every spare space of it. More simply put, they wouldn’t be able to get their mind off of that person; it was some sort of bullshit ‘love at first sight’ principle that he couldn’t get his head around, and hell, even if he could, who in their right mind would be that obsessed with a stranger? Even further, who would ever say a word about it or go after the unwitting object of their affections? He had occasionally scrolled through those ‘missed connection’ things, just to laugh at them and the audacity they had, thinking they had a chance in hell to find some stranger, and even further, that they had any claim to stake over them like it was fate for them to meet or something. 

The dramatic irony of his current situation wasn’t lost on him, sitting on the same site he usually came to in order to mock people, hand hovering over the keyboard while he reconsidered going through with this for the thousandth time that evening. The guy wouldn’t see it. There was no way, and he certainly wouldn’t be looking for Dabi. The entire concept of it was completely moronic, but he wasn’t like everyone else on here, alright? He was different, his situation was a hell of a lot more special than theirs.

What set Dabi apart from the rest of these posts, in his mind, was the circumstances it happened under. He hadn’t pussied out on talking to some girl at the supermarket, not like some of these people. It wasn’t just someone minding their own business, not entirely. No, he had watched a man get completely plowed by a car and land square on his feet. Dabi was still a bit too stunned when he landed to understand him, but he had yelled something or other about being indestructible and walked right off like nothing was wrong. Hell, he even had the strength to call Dabi a bitch as he was walking away. If anything or anyone was going to live rent-free in his head, Dabi felt justified in it being that memory.

With a sigh, he groped around his salvaged coffee table for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and lighting it once he had it where he wanted it. There was no point in holding it off, even if the guy never saw it or replied. He assumed that these posts never reached their intended recipients anyway, and the worst that could happen was dead silence. Even then, Dabi wouldn’t be mad about that. Hunched over his laptop, he started typing, the sound filling the otherwise silent apartment.

‘Guy that got hit by a car in front of Kurogiri’s last night - m4m,’ he began. ‘I was outside smoking. You were crossing the street and got hit by a car. You bounced off the hood and landed on your feet yelling something about being indestructible.’ There. That would cover it, no more information necessary. If, on some off chance, he did end up finding it, he could ask whatever the hell he wanted when he replied. 

Still, though, it felt incomplete. Informal. It sounded more like a ‘what the fuck’ sort of thing than what he was actually going for. Sure, what the fuck had happened indeed, and was he okay, but he was admittedly kinda hot (from what Dabi could tell, at least). That memory was one of the few things that managed to stick out in Dabi’s mind for a while, but shit, he couldn’t just say that. It made him look a hell of a lot dumber than he actually was. 

Instead, he settled, his hands moving faster than his rational thoughts could keep up. ‘The other night I almost got trapped in a dumpster because I was going after a pizza that I thought I wanted to take home with me. I’ve also recently slept on my kitchen floor.’ Still not a request, just kind of pathetic. ‘I think we’d be a good fit for each other.’

Dabi sighed again, reading over what he had right now, the last line in particular. Maybe that’s what he actually thought, or maybe it was what he was trying to convince himself was the case. Hell, he hadn’t said a word to this guy, what could he possibly know? Still, though, as he typed it, he could feel his heart thudding in his chest in a way that frankly discomforted him, as well as his cheeks flushing in the way that Fuyumi would always tease him for whenever someone complimented him (which didn’t happen often). “This is dumb,” he muttered to no one in particular, and yet he finished the post off with just two more sentences, ones that he hope would come off as a joke or a hyperbole.

‘Move in with me? Let’s get married?’ 

He didn’t bother reading over it again. He posted it without a second thought, all of the necessary information punched in and the content of the post left to be tomorrow’s regrets. He shut the computer, setting it aside and heading off to his room. He stubbed his cigarette out on one of the burnt parts of his arm, getting rid of it before crashing down in bed, right onto his face, and groaning. Well, it was done. He could take it back if he wanted to, but honestly, he didn’t care that much. The best he could do now was lay back, wait, and see if his audacity paid off. 

Missed connections. What a load of crap.

Chapter Text

Indestructible? Is that what he had said?

Most of that day had been a blur for Tomura. To put it briefly, it had been shitty, and the car had really topped everything off. The shock of getting hit kicked in almost immediately, dulling what would eventually turn into searing pain in his ribs, and he just barely remembered seeing someone smoking outside. As far as he could tell, the driver and that man were the only witnesses to it, and the driver sure wasn’t going to stick around long enough to make fun of him if Tomura didn’t make them. The other was some kind of pierced-up emo, but Tomura hardly made anything else about him in his haste. Certainly not enough to accept a Craigslist marriage proposal, at least.

He stumbled across the missed connection by complete accident the day after it was posted, two days after he had been hit. He hadn’t mentioned a word of it to any of his friends (discord servers), trying to save himself the embarrassment, but that didn’t stop the post from surfacing in one of them shortly after it had gone up. They were all busy talking about how insane that situation must have been or how wild the things people would post on the internet sometimes were, but Tomura was entirely hung up on the fact that it was talking about him. There was no description of the victim in that situation, but how many other people could that have happened to, especially with that close of details to what he could remember? Without a doubt, it was meant for him, and yet only three people in the world knew that. 

‘Move in with me, let’s get married’? He was kidding, right? What kind of crap was that? How in the world was getting hit by a car and taking it without folding comparable to getting oneself stuck in a dumpster or sleeping on the ground? Better yet, who was going to propose to someone like that, joking or not, knowing jack-all about them? 

Honestly, that last part was keeping Tomura from saying anything in response.

Tomura had been on a losing streak for a long time now, and the odds were stacked up against him higher than he could overcome. There was the untimely death of his family as a child due to his quirk, a destructive force of nature that he had mostly learned how to manage over the years, and then there was the time he spent with Sensei. It likely would have been better for his mental health if he had gotten a therapist instead of a villainous father figure, but what was done was done. True to pattern, Sensei ended up dead after a fight with All Might five years ago, leaving a fifteen year old Tomura to fend for himself. It turned out that his self care and money management skills weren’t as good as he expected them to be, and with no one to look after him and a quirk that most people were afraid of, it was sort of hard to gain money on your own. He wandered, found places to sleep, eventually managed to get himself a small apartment, but when odd jobs and illegal gambling for money didn’t work out consistently, it was only a matter of time before that money ran out. His landlord locking him out two days ago with all of his things tossed on the doorstep was no surprise, but it wasn’t welcome either. He decided he needed a drink, picking out the bar with the quiet owner that wouldn’t bother him too terribly much, and just so happened to get hit by a car outside. Come to think of it, he didn’t even go back for that drink. Damn. 

So, that was the sequence of events. Eviction, drinking to cope, car accident, a cafe with free wifi two days later, and a post on Craigslist that he knew was, without a doubt, about him. Mix all that with a whole host of baggage and a confusing mixture of self doubt and righteous indignation towards the world, and that’s what fully culminated to the last twenty minutes Tomura spent flipping back and forth to the post from a game that he had downloaded last week, trying to figure out a way to respond, if he should at all. The game wasn’t helping, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was a way to clear his head. 

One of the issues he had with it was getting close to someone. For years now, every time he had managed to cultivate some sort of proper, in-person, caring relationship, it had gone up in smoke, or, better yet, disintegrated right in front of his eyes. That sort of thing, while it left someone desperate for some company or affection, also understandably turned a man into a bit of a recluse. He was hesitant to touch, hesitant to be touched, hesitant to form a bond with someone else and ruin them, too. It was hard to admit, and he would lash out if anyone accused him of it, but he was scared. 

He was lonely, too. He hadn’t had a stable parental figure in fifteen years (even Tomura could figure out that Sensei wasn’t a perfect fit for him after some time spent grieving), and he couldn’t think of a time whenever he had a true friend. He played games with people on occasion, and he saw some people frequently enough, but the relationships he made online felt like he was faking something, like he wasn’t telling them the full truth, and the other people didn’t really feel like friends, more like NPCs to his main character. He could fight and hold himself up and act tough all he wanted, but there was only so long he could go without adding an ally to his party. Maybe it would be a good thing for him to get close to someone for once-

Tomura felt the plastic of his cup go dry, too dry, as he picked it up, before it crumbled in his grasp entirely, dumping iced coffee all over his hand and arm. He swore, scrambling away from it towards the window and falling out of his chair in the process, his head smacking against said window with a loud ‘thud’ that had his ears ringing. Well, shit, if the cup hadn’t grabbed the attention of every single asshole in the coffee shop, that certainly had, and when he looked up, hand and sleeve dripping, head pounding, ribs killing him in his twisted position, all eyes were on him, some pitying, some disgusted, some way more amused than they had any right to be. If there weren’t so many people here, he had half a mind to turn the one that was smirking at him to dust. He settled for shooting her a glare instead, and she seemed to get the hint, turning back to her own table and minding her own damn business, like she should have in the first place. He hauled himself to his feet, spots dancing over his vision; yeah, there was no way he was getting back on the ground to clean up the coffee that was now dripping onto the floor. Instead, he settled for grabbing his phone and the duffle bag of possessions he had left and shoving ten bucks into the tip jar on his way out the door. Someone else could handle that crap.

Well, getting close to anyone was out of the question with that little incident. Even if he had gone with someone other than some rando off of Craigslist, Tomura couldn’t afford another death on his hands. He wasn’t really over the other ones. He sulked off down the street, hood up, shoving his wet sleeve up to his elbow as he pulled the post back up again. The way the last two lines made his stomach flutter and turn over weren’t entirely lost on him, nor was the bit about being a good fit for someone, belonging somewhere, but it just wasn’t a possibility at the moment. Maybe someday, one day in the future when he had his own way in the world and not just a half-baked legacy that he couldn’t follow and a powerful, destructive quirk. For now, he’d have to wash his hands of it all and continue on his own, perfectly strong and independent, as he should be. Besides that, no one needed to know about how he felt, either, nor did anyone deserve his attention or genuiety. 

Tomura slumped against a wall in the first proper alleyway he could get to, scanning the post over idly one more time like he couldn’t recite it from memory by now. It took less than a minute to get one of those ten-minute burner emails made to respond with, syncing it to his phone. He hit the reply button, grabbed the default response email, and put it in the right spot. He almost left the subject line blank until it hit him that, idiot, he would have no way of knowing who it was if he didn’t put anything in. ‘No subject’ was replaced by ‘car guy’, and the body of the email was the easy part, just two words long. He didn’t need anything else. Two words, five letters, and this entire situation would be off his hand, just a joke that people would bring up on occasion about a post and a response they never saw. 

‘lol no’

And send.

Chapter Text

When there wasn’t a response to the post when Dabi woke up, he entirely gave up hope. It was a stupid idea anyway, and he didn’t know what he had been expecting. It wouldn’t reach the intended target, and that was more than fine. He didn’t have to deal with the repercussions of his actions, and he was all for that. 

It was Keigo that pointed out later that evening that he had, in fact, gotten a response, albeit entirely unwittingly. He saw the email notification when he snatched Dabi’s phone right out of his hand to google something, his thumbs pausing before he went to type anything in. He cocked his head to the side and squinted, and Dabi reached for his phone again. “What’s your problem?”

Keigo yanked the phone back, teetering and almost falling off of the arm of Dabi’s couch where he had perched. “Shut up, nothing. Since when do you get emails for anything?”

“Since when did I give you permission to go through my phone, asshole? Hurry up and get what you were looking for,” Dabi scoffed, sinking back into his seat. There was really no point in trying to get it back from Keigo, he’d just end up pinned to a wall by his feathers or some dumb, low-down shit like that, and he really didn’t want to patch any more holes in his walls. Keigo didn’t respond for a moment, hitting a few buttons and scanning over something before letting out a soft chuckle, raising an eyebrow and looking at Dabi over the edge of the phone. 

“‘Car guy’? Who the hell is that?” He cocked his head to the side, glancing back down at what Dabi assumed was the email. “He isn’t very talkative, is he?”

“What the- oh, right,” Dabi sighed softly, blowing out the smoke from his cigarette. “I saw this guy the other day and made one of those stupid ‘missed connections’ posts about him. That’s probably-”

“Holy shit, that was you?!” Keigo’s eyes shot wide open, and he dropped Dabi’s phone onto the couch as he started laughing. “That’s been trending on Twitter all day! I saw that post earlier today!”

Dabi groaned, grabbing his phone, but not flipping it over quite yet. “No, it’s not. You’re fucking with me, it can’t be, no one’s even responded to it.”

“Uh, yeah, it is. It totally is, give me a minute, I’ll find it,” he pulled out his phone, still trying to suppress giggles that Dabi wanted to punch him for. “If that’s the only response you’ve got, though, that makes it a hell of a lot funnier.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Dabi replied, rolling his eyes as he picked up the phone and read over the email. Now, he hadn’t really had anything in mind, and honestly, a bad response was better than no response, but at the same time, he wasn’t expecting the body of the email to consist of nothing but ‘lol no’, no capitalization, no punctuation, nothing. He just stared at it for a moment, unaware that his mouth was hanging open slightly until Keigo reached over and pushed it shut. He snapped back into it after that, bringing an arm up over his eyes and groaning again, falling back further onto the couch. “Oh my god.”

“Exactly! You pitch yourself like that, I dunno what you thought was going to happen.” Keigo held his phone out to Dabi, and he glanced at the screen briefly. Sure enough, that was his post under its own tag. “You should update them. I think that would be awesome.”

“I don’t see why they need to know jack shit about me or about how that ended up.”

“I mean, a lot of people are really curious. I wouldn’t be shocked if people started hunting the post down just to reply to you,” Keigo replied, then whistled as he scrolled through his phone. “You have a lot of people saying they’ll accept your offer if he doesn’t. Like, a lot of people. Mostly sad goth girls and millennials.”

“They don’t even know what I look like.”

“Yeah, but you came off as depressed and artsy. You’ve been on Twitter, you know they eat that shit up.”

“I don’t live for attention, unlike some people.” He finally sat back up, looking over the email again and sighing before screenshotting it alongside the original post. “Whatever. It’ll piss off Endeavor’s PR team.”

“I mean, maybe. How many people know you’re his son? I’m pretty sure a lot of them think you’re his sugar baby, just based on the pictures they’ve seen of you two together. Y’know, out on the town together and shit.”

“That’s just him spending his guilt money to make sure I don’t snap and kill him. My therapist doesn’t like me taking advantage of it, but last I checked, my therapist isn’t the one being held together by staples.” He pulled up his Twitter, one he had gained quite the following on since he started it, the same one that his father’s PR team hated (good), and started making the post. All it consisted of was a picture of the post, a picture of the email, and a caption that just said ‘rip’ on it, and he posted it without another thought. “And now we wait.”

“For what? The guy to see the post and suddenly fall head-over-heels in love with Frankenstein’s monster?”

“No. You have a lot of nerve for a KFC value meal within flash-frying distance. Whatever happens whenever people get involved in ‘drama’ that has nothing to do with them in order to keep themselves entertained in their day to day lives.” He tossed his phone aside, putting his hands back behind his head. “What were we doing again?”

“Uh… right, which of the Beatles are dead?” Keigo used his own phone this time, and Dabi rolled his eyes. He couldn’t care less, honestly, but he was going to argue about it for the hell of it. He was more focused on the post anyway.

There was a very real chance that the one person who replied wasn’t the right one. It was kind of a dumb, childish response, but his post wasn’t exactly perfectly mature either. Assuming it was, though, and that everyone in the world was good and no one would reply to something that wasn’t meant for them (bullshit), that kind of response sucked, especially if the guy remembered Dabi from that night and said no because of that. 

Ah, well. What’s done was done, and he wasn’t going to let it ruin his day. He’d read the replies on Twitter and laugh about them on his own time, but really, what was the significance of any of it? He knew what was going to happen to begin with. 

Twitter had a heyday over it, at least. It was sort of amusing to see what people were saying about it, and it had picked up just as much traction as the original did. No one claimed to be the person that responded, or at least he didn’t see any that did, but there were, shockingly, even more people saying that they would accept the ‘invitation’ Dabi had extended (plus a few that said they rescinded their earlier ones, which, honestly, he found way more amusing). It swept the site overnight, and he was sure it would be a dead joke within a week. Even still, there was one that said ‘So all I need to do to get a husband is get hit by a car? Should have thought of that years ago’, and Dabi was considering framing that one.

And that all now put him four days after the incident, three after the post, two after the response, and one day after watching his tweet blow up right in front of his eyes. Today, he was off work during the day from the job that he had picked out to pass the time, and yet he found himself out of his apartment. He would have been more than happy at home all day, but when Fuyumi asked something of him, he found that he couldn’t really say no. There were limits, of course, but she had a way of combination guilt tripping slash threatening him for ditching the family for so long that not even his mother could pull off. Natsuo was scared of breaking what relationship they had again, Shoto just sort of glared at him from time to time between his days at UA, he couldn’t take his father seriously no matter what he said, and his mother was more or less just happy to have him and the rest of the family back. Fuyumi, though? Fuyumi made sure that Dabi understood just what he had missed with the family while he was gone, and just what he would have to do to make up for it. It was a ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ sort of thing, but he knew he was one toe out of line from feeling the wrath that she had never turned on their father after all these years. It seemed that she believed someone had to hold him accountable, and if it wasn’t going to be Natsuo, too busy being pissed at their dad, then it would have to be her.

So, long story short, that’s why he was bringing Natsuo’s lunch to him today at the hospital he was interning with. He lived close enough that it wasn’t really a hassle, even if he’d rather not be doing it. Ah, well, he had gotten to see Mom while he was home, and that was certainly nice, even if he knew the divorce was happening any day now (stupid, irritable Enji, bringing his wife back just to get rid of her again. Neither of them were perfect, but the skin grafts all over his body were certainly less concealable than one kettle burn). The only thing that really sucked about being up at the hospital was that they always thought he was there as a patient. It was a hassle to explain otherwise, but he’d deal with it if he had to. 

He made it inside without a problem, bag in hand, and after a brief conversation with the horrified receptionist, he was allowed to sit and wait until Natsuo got a minute to see him. He hadn’t texted back when Dabi said he was on the day, so god only knows if he actually knew he had forgotten his lunch, but he didn’t mind waiting all that much. He had hardly opened his phone to start scrolling through it idly, though, when someone came in. He glanced at them over the top of his phone out of habit, only to notice that the outfit they were wearing looked familiar- a little too familiar. He could hardly make out their voice as they spoke to the receptionist, but the second they sat down across the waiting room, a stuffed-full duffel bag dropped at their feet, Dabi realized exactly where he recognized him from. Orange hoodie, black mask, bluish-white hair, and a set of piercing red eyes: there was no way in hell that wasn’t the same guy he watched get hit by a car a few days ago, same outfit and all, albeit significantly more jittery and less sure of himself. Now that was some damn impeccable luck.

He must have noticed Dabi’s gaze after a few seconds, because red eyes were suddenly turned on him, the other man squinting. “What are you staring at, patchwork?” Yeah, that was the voice. Dabi cracked a grin.

“Not so indestructible, huh?” he teased, and the other man’s eyes shot wide open. It was a damn good thing the waiting room was empty, because he looked like he didn’t particularly like Dabi’s comment. 

“No fucking way. You’re kidding.”

“Nah, you’re kidding. Was that response actually you, or was that someone screwing with me?” Dabi watched him open his mouth underneath his mask, close it almost immediately after, and just glare at Dabi. Dabi let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You know what I’m talking about, yeah? I mean, if not, you must have seen it somewhere. It’s all over the place.”

“I know what you’re talking about,” he replied tersely, his hand coming up to his neck and scratching it roughly. “I’m shocked that you did it. It makes you look like some kind of clown.”

“You’d be surprised how many people were calling you the idiot there. I’m kind of hot.”

“I had no way of knowing that,” he spat, only for him to splutter to correct himself a second later. “And you shouldn’t act like you’re hot shit, either. I never said I agreed with you, and you’re the one that tried to look for someone on fucking Craigslist.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” 

“No. What I’m pretty sure happened is I told you to, in so many words, fuck off, and then you turn up at the hospital I’m at for reasons completely unrelated to the car thing. It’s just chance, and we’re gonna leave here without knowing each other’s names or seeing each other ever again.”

“Tenko?” For entirely different reasons, both of their heads snapped to the doorway. Dabi saw the man, Tenko, presumably, tense up in his chair, his eyes widening, as Natsuo called him, clipboard in hand. Well, well, looks like the ‘no names’ thing was a bust, at least on his end. Speaking of which, Natsuo gestured for Tenko to get up, then turned to Dabi with a grin. “Hey, Touya!” Fuck. “Didn’t expect to see you here, what’s- is that my lunch?” 

“Yeah,” Dabi sighed, pushing himself to his feet and walking the bag to him. “Fuyumi said you left it on the counter and didn’t have the time to run it to you, nevermind the fact that dad was probably at home, sitting on his ass.”

“Well, sure, but when I say I don’t want to see him at work, I mean I don’t want to see him for any reason,” he chuckled softly, and Dabi couldn’t help but give one too. “Besides, you found a friend, by the sound of it!”

“...What?” Dabi’s head fell to the side, and Natsuo gestured to Tenko. 

“You two! I certainly can’t remember the last time you talked to a stranger in public, and I didn’t know you had friends other than Keigo. How did you two meet?”

“Ah…” Dabi completely blanked, only for Tenko to interject. He was still scratching his neck, tapping one of his feet. 

“Internet. Haven’t known each other long.” Why in the hell was he playing along? Natsuo nodded, cracking a slight smile. 

“Well, that’s a fun coincidence! Alright, ready to head back?” Tenko didn’t reply, not even with a nod, before Natsuo took the bag and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Dabi. Dabi gave him a thumbs up, then glanced over at the still anxious man beside him.

“Say, Tenko, if you need the company, I can always come back with you. I don’t have anywhere to be. That was a pretty nasty hit from that car, you’ve got every right to be freaked out.” 

Tenko scowled at him, neither of them paying Natsuo’s jaw dropping any mind. “I already told you, Touya,” the name dripped like poison from his tongue, “you can sit with me once everything’s looked at and I’m waiting.” Ah, so it’s that game, then.

“Wait a minute, car? You didn’t mention that to the receptionist, okay, uh,” Natsuo started scrawling something down on his clipboard. “This may be more dire than we thought, then, we should probably hurry up.”

“If it’s waited a couple days, it can wait a few more minutes, there’s no reason to rush.” Tenko’s lip curled, and Natsuo looked even more concerned.

“Days?!” He took a deep breath, then gestured for Tenko to follow briefly before heading right off at a pace that appeared a little too fast for Tenko to keep up, rambling all the while. “Alright, no, that’s fine, everything’s okay, we’re just going to do some x-rays as soon as possible, please follow me. Touya, it was nice to see you, I’ll get you when he’s done, just-” he let out a heavy sigh and kept walking as he rounded the corner, Tenko close behind. Before Tenko turned, he paused, scowling at Dabi over his shoulder and flipping him off. Dabi let out a soft chuckle, blowing him a kiss right back before heading into the waiting room once more, now empty handed and alone. If the receptionist noticed anything between their earlier conversation and the most recent one, she sure didn’t say anything about it. He settled into the chair, pulling out his phone once more and heading back to the Twitter post he had found himself going back to so many times in the last few days, now able to put a name and a face to his own story, and now expected to be in his presence again very, very soon. Well. It looked like Dabi would be out of the house for a little longer than expected. 

Chapter Text

Dabi was waiting for a good two hours before anyone else spoke to him. He didn’t mind it, the silence was nice, but the atmosphere of the hospital wasn’t exactly great. He had to work a bit harder to keep himself at his normal temperature, and the people coming and going looked at him funny. At one point, an older woman came in, griping about a heart attack she clearly wasn’t having, but her performance sure got a hell of a lot more believable when she saw Dabi. It was almost amusing, in a sick sort of way, and it was a good distraction from everything else that was going on. Damn, he hoped Tenko was okay.

He had no reason to care. Really, he had expected him to see the post and just laugh it off in his Twitter DMs with him later, maybe make a new friend, and score himself a date at most. Still, though, Tenko looked pretty anxious when he was in the waiting room, and on top of that, Dabi hadn’t offered to help him after he got hit. Natsuo seemed pretty concerned, and there was a chance that Tenko could be seriously hurt. Dabi was one of two witnesses of that hit and run, and he hadn’t done anything about it, yet he expected something back in return. Huh. That’s a mess, isn’t it? He’d have to apologize later.

Some nurse came and got him eventually, walking him up to the room. She mentioned Tenko actually asking for him, not Natsuo saying anything, much to Dabi’s surprise. He thought that Tenko playing along was just something to appease Natsuo, and that there was a decent chance he’d just end up sitting in the waiting room until Tenko walked right out past him again, another snippy comment rolling right off the tongue. He had to admit that it would have been funny if he wasn’t on the receiving end, but thankfully, his time wasn’t entirely wasted after all.

The room was silent when he got there, Tenko curled up in a ball and facing away from the door. The curtains were drawn completely shut, the lights dimmed, the TV playing at a low volume as Tenko scrolled through his phone. His hood was up and cinced tightly, mask off, hospital blankets wrapped tightly around him, and he didn’t say anything when Dabi first came in and sat down on the bench across from the bed. Dabi ended up speaking first after a moment of staring. “Not even gonna say hi, mophead? I’m hurt.”

“You’re not the one in the hospital bed,” he grumbled, still not turning to look at Dabi. “Why are all of your Twitter pictures thirst traps?”

“‘Cause I’m hot. I mean, do you like them?” He gave him a smirk, one that Tenko barely glanced at before pulling his phone closer to his face.

“You’re trying to get your rocks off with a guy that’s probably dying. Just because you look like a corpse doesn’t mean you get to act like a necrophile.”

“Yeowch. Rude.” He leaned back against the wall, pulling his feet onto the bench. “Did they say you’re probably dying?”

Tenko didn’t reply for a moment. “...No. That doesn’t matter, though, I feel like I’m dying, and- and the customer is always right, or some dumb shit like that.”

“That’s not how hospitals work, actually, they usually prefer the ‘customer’ to be wrong about premonitions of their own death. I think you’ll be fine.” 

He grumbled something under his breath, wrapping the blanket tighter. “Not if they freeze me out before they come back with the x-rays. It wouldn’t kill them to keep it above fifty degrees in here.”

“Now, that one I can’t relate to.” Tenko raised an eyebrow at him, and Dabi lit a blue flame between his fingertips, flipping it between them for just a moment. “Fire quirk. I’m my own heating system.”

Tenko sneered. “Well, lucky you. Endeavor’s sugar baby and you don’t have to worry about getting cold.”

Dabi snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’m not fucking Endeavor. None of your damn business as to why, but he’s not my sugar daddy. If you’re so cold, mophead, I wouldn’t mind sharing some body heat.”

“Blow me,” he replied. It was then that Dabi noticed that he was shaking, only slightly, but shaking nonetheless. Dabi rolled his eyes, getting up off of the bench and sitting on the left side of Tenko’s bed, his weight causing it to dip. Tenko slid back a bit, letting out what sounded almost like a growl as he sat up and turned to face him. His lips were chapped and a bit blue, his skin entirely too pale. “I didn’t mean that literally, jackass, just-”

Dabi shushed him, a little harder than he intended, and reached forward, going to grab one of Tenko’s hands. The other man immediately jerked away, pulling his hands into his hoodie sleeves. Dabi snorted, taking his own hand back and dropping it into his lap. “You’re gonna invite me to blow you and then not let me hold your hand? Not one for intimacy, huh?”

“It wasn’t an invitation, you know that, and you can’t just- you shouldn’t just up and grab someone’s hand like that!” He let one of his hands back out, scratching violently at his neck. From this angle, Dabi could see that it was raw and red, the skin cracked and irritated where he was scratching. “I could be dangerous, or you could be trying to light me on fire!”

“Well, I’m not trying to light you on fire right now, and you look about as dangerous as like, a fruit bat at the worst. Quit scratching.” He reached for his hand again, and Tenko’s hand immediately balled up into a fist. Dabi expected to get punched, but instead, as he grabbed Tenko’s fist, the man just froze up completely, holding still and glaring at Dabi. As Dabi expected, he was cold, colder than he likely should have been, and he started relaxing a bit whenever some of Dabi’s natural heat started affecting him. “You’re a jumpy little thing, ain’tcha?”

“Shut up.” With significantly more hesitance this time, Tenko pulled his hand back. He paused for a moment, his other hand falling into his lap, that one in a closed fist as well. “Does heat help with pain?”

“Kinda depends on the kind. If it’s like, muscle pain, yeah, but if it’s bone, then probably not. I’m not a doctor, though, so that could-” Dabi’s voice died in his throat as Tenko slumped against his side, grabbing Dabi’s arm and forcibly wrapping it around his shoulder, his pinky raised as he did, turning some of his chest so that it was more against him. “The hell are you doing?”

“You offered. I accepted. That doesn’t invite any sort of annoying side chatter either, shut up. It’s been a bad day.” With only a brief pause, Tenko slid his hood down, letting his cheek fall against Dabi. Seeing it now, Tenko’s hair was even messier than Dabi had originally anticipated it to be, maybe from the hood, but he reached out to run through it with his fingers without thinking about it. To his surprise, Tenko just glared at him, staying perfectly still. He made no moves to stop him, and after a moment, the scowl melted right off his face to something more neutral and bored, relaxing again. “Just don’t burn me or anything. I’m not dealing with it right now.”

“Right, and what’s with the hand placement? Is your hand screwed up too?” Instead of answering, Tenko sighed, reaching over and grabbing a pen from the nightstand. He glanced back to make sure Dabi was watching, then, holding it over the bed, he lowered his pinky onto it. Right before his eyes, he watched as the pen decayed and crumbled to dust, starting from where Tenko’s fingers sat and spreading out from there until it had all fallen from the floor. He wordlessly wiped the dust off his fingers, one by one, onto the sheets, then pulled his hand back into his hoodie sleeve. “...Huh. Does that work on people?”

“On anything. Especially people,” Tenko answered, curling up closer to Dabi’s side only to fall over when Dabi got up. He let out a strangled sound of protest, curling in on himself. “I’m not going to-”

“Yeah, I know. Relax.” Dabi headed over to the sink, crouching down in front of the cabinet and digging through it. “Just the fingers, right? And just all five of them?” 

“...On both hands,” he muttered in response. Dabi could feel Tenko’s eyes on him without even looking, pulling out two rubber gloves. He tore off the three middle fingers from each glove with ease, leaving only the pinky and the thumb and burning them down to make the edges smoother. When Tenko spoke again, Dabi would have bet money that his nose was crinkled and that he was glaring at him again. “That smells foul.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed.” Dabi stood again, walking back over to the bed and tossed the gloves at Tenko, both of them landing right in front of him. “Ta-da. Put them on, it’ll stop smelling like burning eventually.”

Hesitantly, Tenko grabbed the gloves, staring at him the entire time as he slid them on. With a bit of hesitation, he used one of his hands, all five fingers, to grab the sheets, visibly tensing as he did. When they didn’t disintegrate, Dabi sat down on the bed beside him again, Tenko still staring at his hands when Dabi wrapped an arm around him and pulled him back into his previous position. “I didn’t- I’ve never-”

“You’d think that would have been the first thing you thought of, yeah? I mean, I didn’t peg you as the smartest, but-” he was interrupted by Tenko reaching up and poking at his staples, spluttering out of sheer shock. 

“I never said I liked it. They look stupid, and it kind of feels like muzzling a dog,” Tenko continued, continuing to prod until Dabi pulled his hands off. “It’s just convenient, and I’m not going to decay something I’m currently using. These’ll be gone the second I’m out the door. Did you do this?”

“Did you make yourself look like that? Fuck off, don’t touch those.” Tenko had already removed one of his hands, lowering it back down to his lap, but Dabi had the other. With way too little hesitation, he laced their fingers together, dropping their hands once they were together. Tenko’s hands were cold, a bit too cold, but he could fix that soon enough. If Tenko wanted to pull away, he didn’t, lowering his head back to where it was with a yawn. “You’ve got some nerve, huh?”

“Right, I’m the one with the audacity. At least I have an excuse.”

“That being?”

Tenko’s voice sounded too saccharine, too pathetic when he answered. “Well, I’m injured. You saw it happen. For all you know, I’m delirious right now, and maybe I haven’t slept properly in a few days because I’m so hurt or because someone posted my response to their stupid request online.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty about something, it’s not gonna work. If you’re so tired and delirious, go ahead and take a nap. Then we don’t have to talk.”

“Fine, maybe I will.”

“Fine.” It hit Dabi how absurd this situation was from start to end, and that he was now sitting here cuddling with someone who seemed to hate him and yet wouldn’t tell him to leave. He heard a heavy sigh from Tenko beside him, the hand in Dabi’s tightening and loosening a few times as they sat in silence. It would be a minute or two before Dabi broke it. “Do you need something, Tenko?”

“Gross, don’t call me that, for starters.”

“Mophead it is, handsome stranger. What else?”

Tenko was silent for a moment, then shifted, his voice a bit quieter, more resigned. “Run your hand through my hair again?” There was a bit of hesitation about it this time. It wasn’t a command, not like the name thing, no, it was more like a request. He was asking, and he sounded a bit embarrassed by it. Still, though, how could Dabi refuse? Chuckling softly, he pulled their hands apart, reaching up and bringing his hand up through Tenko’s hair, gently pulling out knots when he found them (there were plenty). Tenko relaxed again, exhaling softly and tucking himself further against Dabi. “Your hands are kind of gross. The bottom part, at least.”

“I know. So’s your neck.”

“I know. I can’t help it.”

“Neither can I.” Dabi didn’t bother carrying on the conversation, setting his head back against the wall and just continuing to hold Tenko and continue the motion of his hand. It really didn’t take any effort to keep them both warm, but that didn’t make him feel any less useful for doing it. The silence was comfortable, shockingly, despite any of the fighting they had done. He still somehow felt comfortable, like it was right for him to be there. He couldn’t speak for Tenko, but maybe he hadn’t been far off the mark when he said they could be a decent fit for one another. 

Speaking of Tenko, he did have another question for him, so many minutes later. “Hey, mophead? What do you want me to call you, if I’m not gonna call you your name?” He received no answer, and he furrowed his brow. “Oi. Tenko.” Still nothing. “Are you just gonna-” he cut himself off as he looked down, suddenly noting that Tenko’s breathing had slowed at some point during their silence. His fingers paused, just for a moment, making sure there was still a steady rise and fall of his chest, and he realized that Tenko had managed to fall asleep against him. He grumbled softly in his sleep as Dabi’s hand stilled, and Dabi started carding them through his hair again out of instinct, shushing him softly. Tenko settled right back down, face buried against Dabi, and yet Dabi didn’t feel like pulling away from him. Maybe he wasn’t lying, and maybe he hadn’t slept properly in a few days. Dabi really had no way of knowing, and they both still had the time to wait. Might as well let him sleep. It barely crossed his mind that he could ditch as he shut his own eyes, Tenko certainly couldn’t do anything about it, but really, he didn’t have the drive. He could go for a nap himself anyway.

“-ya. Touya, hey, good afternoon.” Natsuo’s voice was a bit too chipper when he woke him up, the lights in the hospital room having been flicked on. Dabi’s eyes opened slowly, squinting at his brother in the brightness. He vaguely registered a warmth still remaining at his side, his fingers still tangled in Tenko’s hair. He gave his scalp a light scratch, his eyes managing to adjust and focus on Natsuo. “Hi! It’s a couple broken ribs, they’ll heal on their own, he should just keep physical activity kind of light, and we’re prescribing some painkillers if that’s okay.”

“And why did you wake me up to tell me this? He’s the patient.”

“We tried,” Natsuo chuckled, giving him a sympathetic smile. “He’s out. Somebody’s kind of a heated pillow right now, it’s probably helping with the pain. He’ll sign out downstairs whenever he’s awake, and you’re both free to go whenever.”

“Right, thanks, leaving me to handle him when he’s all snippy. Thanks, Natsuo, you’re really looking out for me.” Dabi rolled his eyes, only for Natsuo to raise an eyebrow, still grinning at him.

“Well, he’s your friend, isn’t he? I already told mom that you actually do have friends, she wants to meet this one.”

“You’ve met Keigo. All of you have met Keigo, several times. He won’t stop showing up, and I think he’s two steps from making those ‘I’m going to bang your dad’ jokes a reality.”

“Friends, plural, and please don’t talk like that, that’s- that’s very unsettling, I don’t really want to think about that, he’s my age,” Natsuo’s grin got a little more pained, and he chuckled awkwardly, only to be met with a more devious one from Dabi. 

“He’s fun to jab at. I’ll handle him. See you… whenever I get invited to family dinner again, I guess.”

“Whenever you decide to show up,” Natsuo corrected. “You’re always invited, but I get your point. Congrats, still. Bye, Touya.” With that, he turned on his heels and walked right back out, leaving Dabi and Tenko exactly where they had been found. Tenko’s breathing was still steady at Dabi’s side; he did look sort of serene like this, or at least less pissed off. That didn’t mean that they didn’t have things to do regardless.

Dabi nudged him this time, shifting his arm. “Hey, c’mon. They’re trying to check you out, you’re not dying.” Tenko just groaned, entirely ignoring him otherwise. He was deadweight on Dabi’s arm by this point, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to get up without making Tenko fall over. Whenever he realized that, he paused, considering it for just a moment, then swung his legs off the bed and stood right up, maybe a bit too abruptly. Tenko fell right over with a hiss, eyes still shut, immediately going to clutch at his chest.

“Motherfucker-” he wheezed, then opened one eye to glare at Dabi. “You think you’re funny.”

“A little. Good morning, sleepyhead,” Dabi replied, letting his head fall to the side. “You’re allowed to sign out up front. You think you can drive with the way you are right now?”

“I didn’t drive here anyway,” he shifted in a way that looked entirely less than comfortable, although he looked like he was too tired to complain about it. 

“Well, do you think you can walk with the way you are right now?” Dabi corrected snidely, then paused, sighing softly. “C’mon. I’ll drive you, just get out of bed.” When Tenko squinted at him, Dabi held a hand out, one pinky extended to him. “Promise I won’t kidnap you and light you on fire in a back alley.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person that’s tried.” Well, that wasn’t exactly a comforting answer, but he shook Dabi’s pinky nonetheless. Slowly, he dragged himself to the edge of the bed, stumbling right into Dabi once he was on his feet. Habitually, Dabi usually would have shoved him right back onto the bed and snapped at him, but a little voice in the back of his head told him that wasn’t the right idea at the moment. Instead, he held his arm out to Tenko, one that he took gratefully and was almost hanging on completely as Dabi led him out and down to the counter. Really, he did look miserable. Hopefully he had someone waiting for him at home, because he was fucked if he didn’t.

Checking out was a lot quicker of a process than Dabi anticipated, not that he was complaining. Whenever they finally managed to get down to the lobby again, information given and patient signed out, prescription for painkillers balled up in Tenko’s still-gloved hand, it only took five minutes to get everything done and get to the car. The inside smelled like smoke, he was sure, and it was a bit beat up, but Tenko didn’t say anything about it when he got in. “Alright, mophead, where am I taking you?”

“Fuck if I know,” he mumbled in response. He didn’t buckle himself in, curling up into a ball in the seat instead. Dabi furrowed his brow.

“What’s your address?”

“I’m-” Tenko paused, hesitance in his voice when he continued, “-not giving you my address, creepshow.” 

“Dunno how I’m supposed to take you home if I don’t know your address.”

“That’s not really my problem. Figure it out, take me to your place for all I care. You’re the one that invited me to move in with you.”

Dabi drove off without pause barely a few moments later, a bit faster and jerkier than was usually accepted by road laws. He heard Tenko’s breath hitch, saw his hands clench on the armrests, about half a second from reaching for the ‘oh shit’ handle above the seat before Dabi begrudgingly slowed down. “That was a hyperbole and you know it.”

Tenko just hummed, entirely disinterested now that they had gone down to a more normal pace. Dabi kept it that way, even if it meant they wouldn’t get home faster; he wasn’t too sure why, but something gave him the idea that Tenko, broken ribs and all, would be the kind to jump out of a moving car if he didn’t want to be there anymore. After that, Tenko didn’t say a word. All the fight seemed to have drained out of him, replaced by exhaustion and a bit of delirium to keep him present. Despite the silence in the car, the drive seemed to go by relatively quickly, and they were outside of Dabi’s apartment in no time. Tenko barely looked up at the building. “I was expecting worse.”

“The neighbors are bitches, but my dad pays the rent as long as I handle utilities and groceries and shit, so I get nice things sometimes.”

“I more meant that it doesn’t match the face.” Dabi snorted, getting out of the car and only heading back for Tenko when the man didn’t get out himself. He had to take Dabi’s arm again, apparently, but there was no problem getting up to Dabi’s apartment from there. Once they were inside, he expected another snide comment about the smell of smoke or his taste in furniture or the like, but it never came. Instead, Tenko let go of him one more time, heading right over to the couch and falling face-first onto it, his arms immediately wrapping around one of the throw pillows that Fuyumi had insisted on getting him as a housewarming present. Dabi raised an eyebrow, but walked right past him from there. 

“Yeah, just make yourself comfortable, I guess.” He stepped off into the kitchen, only now realizing just how hungry he was after spending all afternoon at the hospital. All afternoon at the hospital for someone else, it dawned on him, after heading there for someone else’s sake on top of that. He was going soft, that little voice nagged, but he shoved it aside for now. Sandwich first, morals later. 

He ended up making two- one for Tomura, one for himself. Dabi’s was already halfway in his mouth by the time he made it out into the living room again, Tenko’s on a plate. “I really hope you’re not allergic to peanut butter. Grapes too, I guess, but I’m going to make fun of you if the grapes are the thing in that equation that you’re allergic to.” Once again, he received no response, and it took a moment to register that Tenko was snoring. This time, Dabi just rolled his eyes, setting the sandwich down on the coffee table beside Tenko. “You’ve gotta stop doing this, man, this is the second time now.” 

Naturally, he didn’t get a response again. Instead, Dabi started doing what he thought would be necessary; he left the sandwich there in case Tenko woke up again, and he managed to find the prescription slip balled up in Tenko’s hoodie pocket, sticking right out the side. That was quickly transferred to Dabi’s jacket pocket, then, as an afterthought, he slipped it into his jeans and slid his jacket off. It was still warm to the touch as he draped it over Tenko’s shoulders, and he saw the man shift underneath it, his breathing slowing a bit more with a contented sigh. Dabi let out half a chuckle, heading towards the door, only to pause in the doorway. If Tenko woke up where he was now while Dabi was still gone, he’d have no idea where he was.

A beat.

He’d figure it out.

With that, Dabi shut the lights off with a flick of his hand. “I’ll be back,” he said to no particular audience, given that the intended recipient was asleep. “Try not to destroy my shit while I’m gone.” 

He didn’t hear Tenko stir when he shut the door behind him. Good. Let him sleep.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t all that uncommon for Tomura not to recognize the place he woke up in, but that didn’t mean it was a pleasant experience. Today was no exception; he woke up face-down on a couch that smelled like years worth of smoke, some from cigarettes and some that just smelled like burnt something, and even if it was incredibly comfortable, it was a bit off-putting. There was something draped over his shoulders, and as he fumbled around behind him, his ribs still aching, he felt the fabric of what felt like a jacket. Pulling it in front of his face confirmed that, and he sat up groggily, surveying his surroundings and trying to remember just how he got there. The room was poorly decorated, but homey nonetheless, capped off by a vaguely familiar voice humming a song that wasn’t meant to be hummed under one’s breath in the kitchen. His blood ran cold. He wasn’t alone. 

He had half a mind to get up and run. If he had been kidnapped, which wasn’t entirely out of the question, he’d probably be killed on his way out. He could defend himself easily, unless they had a gun or a long-range quirk, in which case he was screwed. In his panic, it took him a minute to notice the food sitting in front of him. It gave him a bit of pause, and once he managed to calm down, just a bit, he noticed the full extent of what was there. There was a decent sized plate of food, albeit a shittily made one, and a cup of something sat nearby. Both looked warm still, and beside both of those were a sealed box and a bottle of pills. From here, he could see his own name- his given name- and the instructions on the bottle, plus ‘Todoroki Enji’ printed on the box. One hand floated up to his neck out of habit and started scratching out of habit as he reached for it, only for rubber to connect with the skin. He let out a strangled sound, then immediately removed the half-gloves he only vaguely remembered putting on. 

Within a few moments, the voice in the kitchen stopped, moving to stand in the doorway and leaning on it idly, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. It took Tomura a second to register who it was, quickly followed by blurry memories of just how he got there. He didn’t stop scratching, squinting at him. “Patchwork.”

“Mophead,” Touya replied with a grin, a plume of smoke coming out of his nose as he did. “I’d ask if you slept well, but with the pissed off look on your face, I can’t imagine you did.”

“I slept fine.” He kept his eyes trained on Touya the entire time as he headed across the room, taking a seat in the armchair beside the couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Tomura gestured to the things laid out in front of him after. “What’s this?”

“Uh…” Touya glanced over it, then pointed at each thing one by one. “Breakfast. Tea. The painkillers for your fucked up ribs. A peace offering.”

“…A peace offering.”

“Yep. It’s a gift, I have no use for it, and I didn’t buy it.” Tomura raised an eyebrow, and Touya continued. “Dad’s guilt money. Really helps to be connected to his Amazon account.”

“Right,” Tomura muttered, taking the box and ripping it open with his bare hands. It didn’t take much effort- it was mostly open already- and inside was a set of gloves. They were black, and they were missing the thumb, middle, and index finger. He stared at them for a moment, then hesitantly slid them on and picked up the pill bottle, all five fingers down. It didn’t disintegrate, and with that, he took one out and swallowed it dry. “I’m not wearing these for your sake, and I think these are still stupid.”

“Duly noted.” Touya lounged back in the chair a bit further. “I never caught your name yesterday. You told me not to call you Tenko, and you fell asleep before I could ask what you wanted to be called.”

“Tomura.” Tomura had no reason to answer himself, and as soon as the name left his lips, he started kicking himself mentally. “And you’re Touya.”

“I’ve been going by Dabi for a while now, actually. Same name I use on social media. I haven’t gone by Touya in public for years. Nice to meet you.”

“You think so?”

Dabi grinned. “Nah. Shitty circumstances. Coulda been better, but someone had to go and get hit by a car right in front of me, then end up at the hospital the same time I did, and then bitch at me for a while and pass out on my couch. Come to think of it, we may not actually be a bad fit if I’m the only one putting up with your shit like this.”

“You’re not-“ Tomura began, then stopped. He paused, just for a moment, and thought about it. He really didn’t have anyone or anything to his name at the moment minus the duffel bag of his things tossed in the corner of the room right now, and he certainly didn’t have anyone to rely on. Hell, if it wasn’t for Dabi, he’d probably still be passed out in the hospital. It’s not like he had tried to find someone else to deal with him after Sensei died, but that didn’t mean anyone else tried to get closer to him, either, and even if it was a bit annoying, Dabi had been… hospitable. He had given the same energy back. He could be advantageous at the very least. “-entirely wrong.”

“Nothing’s stopping us from meeting again under nicer circumstances, if you’d like. Once your ribs are fixed. I’ll drive you home today either way.”

“I never said I wanted that,” he sneered. “You’re pretty rude, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told. You aren’t much nicer, I’d say.” Dabi shrugged. “What’s your course of action, then? I’m not gonna kick you out, you’re fucked up right now, but you don’t really look like you’re going anywhere anytime soon anyway.”

Well, that left Tomura with some options, at least. He could play up the amount of pain he was in- the drugs were already kicking in- or he could leave with his pride still mostly intact. He could demand that Dabi take down the post on his way out, decay his things right in front of him, or kill him and just go back to living the way he was, perfectly self-sufficient in a less than sustainable environment outside of these four walls. Or… or he could force Dabi to make good on his offer. He’d seen other people do it plenty of times. He knew how to command a room. Silently, he sat up a bit straighter, hoping his bed-head and hoodie didn’t kill any of his intimidation value too much, staring right at Dabi. “I’m moving in with you.”

Dabi didn’t say anything for a moment, then broke the silence with a disbelieving chuckle. “Are you now?”

“You offered, didn’t you? This is more convenient than my current situation, and that means you don’t have to drive anywhere to get anything or to drop me off. It’s a win-win situation, I’d say. I changed my mind about your stupid post, and now I’m taking up your offer. You don’t get to reconsider. Is there a problem, patchwork?”

“Uh… no,” he let his head fall to the side, “no problems. I won’t get charged anymore for having someone else in the room, so it really doesn’t bother me as long as you’re buying yourself food and shit. We can share some, but I’m kinda used to feeding myself. Welcome to the place, mophead, happy to have you.”

“As you should be.” The last part came out more muttered than he would have liked, but Dabi didn’t seem to notice. That grin definitely wasn’t directed at him just now. 

“Right. We should get some drinks to celebrate sometime.”

“What, like a date?” Tomura started to raise his hand to his neck again, only for Dabi to reach out and grab it before he could pull away. He stayed tense as Dabi continued talking, though.

“I mean, you said it, not me.” Dabi shrugged, letting go of Tomura’s hand when he was sure he was done scratching. He stood. “Holding you in a hospital bed is kind of a shitty first date, we could have a real one if you want it.”

Well. He wasn’t bad looking, and the whole aspect of a personal space heater was nice… and he was nice to him. There was that, too. He rolled his eyes, standing up right alongside him. “Fine, let’s just go.” Barely a second later, he found himself tipping right back over, Dabi’s fingers hardly pushing his shoulder and managing to knock him back onto the couch.

“Slow your roll,” he teased. “I have shit I need to get done right now. Maybe later, or maybe when you’re not so beat up.” While Tomura was too dumbfounded to speak, he headed to the door, grabbing his keys from the hook next to it, glancing back over his shoulder at him. “I’m just going to assume I can trust you while I’m gone in my place. See ya, Tomura.” The purr he put on his name was one that just begged to be slapped right out of him, but the wink that he punctuated it with was even more startling. Tomura must have waited a bit too long to reply, because Dabi was out the door a few moments later, the ghost of his laugh hanging in the empty air.

Well, fuck.

It wasn’t often that something both managed to blow up in Tomura’s face entirely and fall perfectly into place. He was certainly used to people disrespecting him by now, he had been a fifteen-year-old living on the streets, for christ’s sake, but it was different when it was Dabi, for some reason. It actually managed to get under his skin, yet it wasn’t seething rage. He could handle it. He kind of liked firing it back. Maybe the post hadn’t been entirely wrong; there was always the chance that they’d be a decent fit for each other. Sighing, he sat back down on the couch, only for his phone to buzz a second later. It was an unknown number, he noticed when he picked it up, and they had sent him a slightly blurry picture of an absurdly fluffy dog trotting its way down the street. 

Unknown: holy shit

Unknown: this is dabi btw i stole ur # out of ur phone

Unknown: look at the dog tho

Ah. They’d get along just fine.