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It was stupid. So, incredibly stupid. And yet, here I was, with the stupid Christmas present burning a hole in my bag while I stupidly hoped one of Japan's most dangerous villains--the one I'd been nursing a stupid crush on for upwards of a year--would stop by for a drink.
Was working at one of the only unofficial villain bars in Musutafu a safe job? No, not really. But did it pay well? Actually, also no. However, the god of dance and rhythm had seen fit to skip over me entirely, so stripping was out of the question. And there were very few places that would hire the relative of a former villain--even if that villain was no longer around. Despite what they like to preach to the masses, heroes didn't forgive and society didn't give people second chances, even if their only crime was being born to someone who didn't see eye to eye with them. The truth sat bitterly on my tongue as I stuffed my bag under the bar.
As a general rule, I made a point not to get too invested in the lives of the patrons. Partially for legal protection, but also to protect my heart--because I knew more than anyone that the life of a villain was volatile, with no guarantee that they'd live to see another sunrise. The tragic product of my upbringing meant I'd spent quite a few Christmas' alone, once my father had been accidentally killed during a raid when I was fourteen. And maybe that was why I felt a kindred connection to the fire-wielding villain who stopped by the bar periodically.
It wasn't difficult to notice someone like Dabi. Not since his face had been broadcasted all over the news when he'd attacked Endeavor, after announcing to all of Japan that he was, in fact, the long thought dead son of the country's number one pro hero. Even cloaked in black with most of his face obscured by the hood of his jacket, I'd instantly recognized him the moment our eyes met. But, we served everyone, from the D list nobody's to the Grade A, S-tier baddies. So, despite the urge to pee my pants, I'd done my job--smiled, and got the man a drink.
I was never overly chatty but I was polite, treating him like I did any other patron and perhaps it was that ambivalence that caught his eye. Soon he was considered a regular, making small talk with me on the slower nights and occasionally even flirting. I was still--justly--terrified of him, but I couldn't deny that there was something particularly thrilling about having someone who could melt your face off with a mere flick of his fingers take an interest in you.
It wasn't until a couple months later that he'd officially change my perception of him indefinitely. His visits to the pub had been few and far between, thanks to an uptick of battles with the pro heroes, so, I hadn't been expecting to see him that night. The surprise of seeing had caused a veritable swell of relief to wash over me, as my co-worker had called out sick, leaving me to not only man the place, but close up on my own. Usually, I didn't mind, the weekdays were less busy and heaven knew I could use the extra tips. Unfortunately, I'd been dealing with the undesired attention of another patron at the time, and despite the complete lack of interest I'd shown towards him, he'd only seemed to grow bolder.
While annoying, it was usually innocent enough, at first. Catcalls and one-sided attempts at flirting, however, things had quickly escalated to unwanted physical contact and even one night where I caught him trying to follow me home. I'd managed to lose him down a back alley, though I feared it was only a matter of time before he tried again. Dabi's appearance that evening had seemed to be enough to keep the worst of his behavior that day. Especially when Dabi threatened to burn him to a crisp after he'd made an attempt to grab my backside when I'd left the safety of the bar to clean up a spill made by another patron.
The man had stormed off after that, and I'd made sure to thank Dabi by comping his drink.
The feeling of confidence I'd held onto while at the bar quickly evaporated once I'd closed down for the night. The unsettling sense of being watched followed me all the way home, and even with my pepper spray clutched tightly in hand, I couldn't quite shake the mounting sense of foreboding. The man waited until I'd unlocked the door to my shabby apartment to attack, bullying his way in from behind and covering my mouth with his meaty fingers when I tried to scream.
My heart sank when I realized I'd somehow managed to drop the pepper spray in the struggle and the heavy stench of alcohol on his breath as he smeared his sweaty face against my neck was enough to make my stomach roil. I shutter to think about what might happened after that had Dabi not kicked in my door. Illuminated from the street light outside my window, his white hair and blue eyes seemed to glow, making him look like some kind of demon crawled straight from the depths of Hell to wreak havoc on humanity.
By the time it was over, all that was left was the stench of burned flesh and hair, and the inauspicious char mark scorched into the tiles on my floor. I think he'd expected me to scream, or maybe even run, then. He definitely didn't expect for me to ask him to stay, and I certainly didn't expect to wake up with my head on his shoulder nestled beside him on my cramped couch. We never really talked about what happened that night, and no one ever came to ask about the missing man. But afterwards, Dabi made a point of always walking me home, at least on the nights that he was there, and I had a sneaking suspicion that he had eyes on me on the nights he couldn't.
Something changed between us after that night, and while he never came inside my flat again, we'd stay long after closing time talking and laughing way into the early morning hours. He never tried kissed me, or even really make a move--aside from the flirting. His lack of real interest clearly didn't stop my mosochistic heart from pining away like some lovesick idiot. Which was why I'd spent the past few weeks searching for the perfect Christmas gift for him.
Stupid.
A part of me hoped he wouldn't show, it was Christmas Eve after all. And, if he didn't show I could chalk it up to the universe giving me the gift of not embarrassing myself for the holidays. Before I lost my nerve, I tossed back a shot, giving a mental middle finger to my self-imposed rule to never drink on the job. I winced as the bitter liquid burned my throat and slammed the shot glass back down on the bar.
"Rough night?" Dabi's raspy voice cut through the low murmurs and indistinct chatter of the bar, causing me to fumble with the tiny glass. It rolled across the bar, only to be stopped by the tip of his finger right before it fell off and undoubtedly shattered on the floor. One brow quirked up in question as his gazed flicked back to me. "You okay, doll?"
"Oh-um, yes?" The the influx of the last word made it sound more like a question so I nodded firmly. "Yes."
His other brow rose, both disappearing beneath his bangs as he slowly slid the shot glass back across the bar to me. His dubious stare was almost enough for me to call off the whole idea all together.
Almost.
"Thanks," I said, trying to wrestle my nerves into submission. Wiping my sweaty hands on my pants I quickly took the glass and began to clean it, thankful that the task allowed me to turn my back to him so that I could gather my wits. I could hear him slide onto the stool and practically feel his eyes drilling holes into be the back of my head as I worked.
"So," I began, in what had to be the poorest attempt at sounding causal. I turned to face him after putting the glass back on the shelf. "What can I get you?"
His eyes narrowed, raking over me like he might be able to read the thoughts floating around in my head if he only stared hard enough. "Is there someone under there holding a gun to you?"
"W-what?"
He motioned to beneath the bar. "You're acting squirrelly as hell."
I laughed, too high and entirely the wrong octave, waving him off. "I don't know what you're talking about." To distract him, I placed a bottle of his favorite beer in front of then was mercifully saved from any further embarrassment by my co-worker who needed my help with something.
The rest of the night dragged on with unrelenting slowness, the likes of which could only be found when stuck doing a very unpleasant task--like internally agonizing over whether to not to give a super dangerous villain you're hopelessly in love with a Christmas present. I did my best to ignore said villain during the rest of my shift, busing myself with every menial and unsavory task I could find. And while it didn't stop me from feeling the weight of his stare everywhere I went like an ever-present migraine it did keep me from having to talk to him.
His perplexity at my bizarre behavior wasn't unjust, but boy was it making it difficult to focus and by the time last-call finally rolled round, I'd worked myself up so much that I feared one wrong word might set me off like a firework at a summer festival. I'd spent the last several hours agonizing over how exactly I'd actually give him the gift. The ideas ranging from casual to dramatic. In end, however, it was the crippling fear of his reaction that made my decision for me. Which was why I slipped it on the counter in front of him when his back was turned then booked it like the coward I was.
My co-woker had graciously offered to let me skip out a few minutes early, which meant by the time he realized I wasn't coming back I'd already be halfway home. There was only a small sliver of me that actually felt a little guilty for my actions--the small stupid sliver that held out hope that he actually liked me, too. Shaking my head I struggled to get a grip on my emotions. It wasn't like I'd confessed my undying love to him. I'd simply wrote a little note, wishing him a Merry Christmas. Sure, I'd placed it inside a box with a present I'd spent way too much time picking out, but that wasn't a confession.
By the time I got home, I'd almost convinced myself that the present really was as innocent as I pretended it to be. We were just friends, and friends got friends Christmas presents. Slipping into my cozy Christmas pajamas I made myself a cup of hot cocoa before setting down on the couch in front of my tiny table Christmas tree to spend the rest of the night watching cheesy rom-com Christmas movies.
A pang of loneliness went through me as I curled my legs up beneath me. My father may have been a villain to everyone else, but he was always a wonderful and loving dad to me. Before he passed, we'd made many fond memories of Christmas Eves spent in a similar manner, and while I tried to replicate those memories each year, it never quite compared without him.
A heavy pounding at my door had me leaping to my feet, sloshing hot cocoa on the floor in the process.
"Open the door, doll," Dabi's muffled voice came through the laughably thin wood.
I'm pretty sure my stomach actually fell out of my butt, landing on the floor where it mingled with the cocoa. In all the scenarios I ran though my head, not one involved him showing up at my door at two in the morning. I'd expected him to be surprised by the gift, but I didn't expect him to be angry. I was mentally running through the logistics of fleeing the country and assuming a new name when:
"I know you're in there."
No he didn't.
"I can hear your terrible taste in movies all way out here."
I narrowed my eyes at the TV, like it was the one who had betrayed me and not my own questionable taste in men. Sighing, I clicked it off with the remote and braced myself for the fallout as I crossed the room and unlocked the door.
Dabi stared down at me through the crack in the door with an unreadable expression. "You gonna let me in?"
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, debating. "That depends."
"On?"
"How mad you at at me," I informed him seriously. "Cause if you're only a little mad then, sure. But if you're like, 'I'm going to melt your face off, mad'--then I'm going to have to decline."
He snorted, easily pushing the door open, anyway. My fuzzy socks slid across the floor as he made his way inside, the little bells attached to them jingling with the movement. Closing the door behind him he took in my appearance. From the now mostly spilled mug still in hand, to the festive red and green pajama set, complete with matching jingle bell socks. The socks seem to disturb him the most, his gaze pausing there before his ocean blue eyes focused back on my face.
"What are you wearing?"
I bristled. "It's festive."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "You can be festive without looking like Christmas threw up on you."
"Listen," I began, the night's emotions finally getting the better of me. "I get that you're mad about the present, and whatever, but you don't have to insult my Christmas attire."
For the second time tonight, his brows disappeared beneath his bangs. "You think I came here because I'm mad about the present?"
"I-," I paused. "You're not?"
He rolled his eyes, tugging at the collar of his white t-shit. "You think I'd be wearing it if I were?"
To my immense surprise the necklace I'd gotten his sat nestled against his neck. Black beads drew the eye down to an upside down triangular stone that rested between his collar bones. Carved out of labradorite, the polished stone had reminded me of the fire he wielded so easily. My jaw went slack as I looked back up at him. "You..you actually like it?"
He scowled. "What? Did you get it because you thought I'd hate it?"
"What? No!" I waved my hands, sloshing what little cocoa remained in my cup around. "I mean, I'd hoped you like it...it's just I was worried you wouldn't."
Eyeing the mug like it was something dangerous he carefully plucked it from my hand and started walking me backwards towards the counter. "So, why'd you get it for me then?"
"Why?" I repeated as my backside hit the counter. "It was...Christmas."
"So?" His brow arched as he stepped into my space, setting the mug down beside me. "You get all the villains you know Christmas presents, doll?"
"I-" I struggled to form words with him this close, the scent of him enveloping me and making my thoughts all muddled. Something cool and minty mixed with cologne creating a mouth watering blend that made me weak in the knees.
"I?" he pressed.
"I-no," I said, finally managing to scrape together the syllables I needed to accomplish basic human speech.
"No?"
"No." I said more firmly. "Just you."
"Oh really?" He teased, and the implication of what I'd just said sent a burst of heat rushing to my face. "And why's that, doll?"
I stared resolutely at his chest, unwilling to read whatever was written on his face. "Because we're...friends."
Warm fingers caught my chin, tilting my head up so that I was forced to meet his eye. "Friends, huh?" He leaned in, his nose barely skimming mine. "Is that all we are?"
I swallowed thickly, the sound impossibly loud in my own ears. "I-um..I don't know," I answered honestly. Before this moment I was 99.9% sure that he didn't see me as more than that, but now with his lips hovering so dangerously close to my face I was struck with the terrifying thought that he might actually like me back. That--or he was really going hard on the whole revenge thing.
"You don't know?" he asked, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.
Irritation sparked within me. How dare he tease me with he'd given no solid signals that he was even remotely interested in me. "Well, it's not like you've ever even tried to make a move," I grumbled.
Dabi threw his head back, his laughter ringing out through my small apartment and causing a whole new wave of heat to assault my cheeks.
Frustrated I made to shove past him, but he easily caught me by the elbows, keeping me pinned between him and the counter. He tried to sober his expression, but there was no denying the twinkling in his eyes. "Not made a move? You think I'd spend my time at that hole in the wall, you call a job, if I didn't like you?"
"Well-"
"You think I'd make sure you always got home safe--even if I wasn't in town--if I didn't care about you?"
"I mean-"
"You think I'd flirt with you, non-stop, if I wasn't interested in you?"
"Well, how was I supposed to know?" I huffed, beyond embarrassed. "Most people go to the bar to drink not to spend time with the bartender. And as far as walking me home, I just thought you were being nice. You know, being a good person?"
He laughed again and I felt my eye twitch. "Doll, when have a ever had more than one beer in a night?"
I opened my mouth to respond only to immediately snap it shut. I could probably count on one hand the amount of times he'd done more than nurse a single beer all night.
"And you should know by now that I'm not a nice guy, and definitely not a good person." He released my elbows and rifled around for something in his pocket. "Besides," he continued, pulling out a small box. "Do you think I'd get you a Christmas present if I wasn't in love with you?"
"You got me a present?" I stared down at the little box in disbelief. "You...you're in love with me, too?"
He sighed, flicking me lightly on the forehead. "Yes, dumbass. I thought you knew." He pressed the box into my hands. "Clearly I've got some work to do, though."
Casting him a half-hearted glare, I carefully removed the ribbon and opened the box. Inside sat a gold band with a solitary black pearl in its center.
"I remember you saying you liked them" he said, for the first time sounding a little self-conscious and I couldn't help but gape up at him. "I was going to give it to you earlier, but you kept avoiding me all night."
Relief swelled within me like the tide, bringing a wave of frothy joy with it. With no where to go, it bubbled over and before I knew it I was laughing. "I can't believe you actually like me back," I said, slipping the ring on my finger. "I love it. Thank you."
He fingered the necklace I'd given him, his expression morphing into something tender and vulnerable. "I gotta admit, I wasn't expecting you to get me anything, though. I haven't gotten Christmas present since--well, it's been a while."
His admission tugged at my heartstrings. Buried deep inside the man that everyone feared was still a broken little boy who had suffered under the hands of his abusive father. A kid forced to grow up on his own while the rest of the world moved on without him. Before I could think better of it I rose up on my toes, cupped his cheeks, pulled him down to me, and kissed him.
He tensed and for a moment I feared I'd overstepped, but when I tried to pull away he moved. Arms wrapping around to me to pull me close as he crushed his mouth to mine. His kiss was just as hot as his flames, burning through me like a raging forest fire, devouring me from the inside out until I wasn't even sure I knew my own name anymore. Later, when I woke to his warm fingers ghosting over my skin I was surprised to find him still up, head propped casually on his hand as he stared down at me.
"Dabi? What's wrong?" I asked, growing concerned.
Leaning down he once again captured my kiss swollen lips with his. My heart was fluttering in my chest by the time he drew back and pulled me into his chest. Burying his face in my neck he murmured against my skin. "It's Touya."
Smiling, I twisted my head back so I could see his face. It didn't matter that I didn't know what tomorrow would bring because in this moment my heart was full. "Merry Christmas, Touya," I whispered, the sound of his real name on my lips feeling like a sacred thing.
He chuckled softly, placing a kiss on my temple. "Merry Christmas, doll."