Chapter Text
Sharing a bath is a love language,
Sharing soap, arguing over the water temperature
Whose turn was it to buy more conditioner?
Sharing a bath is a love language,
Sharing space, holding hands when no one is around
Silence underneath the leaky faucet echoing
Wait until the skin prunes before you finally go
“We need to talk.”
“Your hair is tangled,” Dabi says to no one in particular, combing another wet knot from Shigaraki’s hair as they hum something in response. There’s a small splash, some water spills over the yellowed bathtub wall, but there were towels piled on the floor this time. There’s a long sigh as Dabi drags the comb through the younger villain’s hair one last time. There are still suds in both their hair, but Shigaraki always had to get their hair washed first, otherwise it would never get done for another few days until the elder dragged a belligerent adult-sized toddler to the bathtub and made them hold still and comb out the tangles.
But for now, Shigaraki is being patient and cooperative, playing with a Rubix cube instead of washing down themselves, focusing on anything but washing, bubbles tickling at the various scars on their limbs. They sneezed and Dabi snorted, earning an elbow in his ribs that made him laugh openly. There was something soft that touched upon the back of Shigaraki’s head, and they leaned back into the warmth radiating from the arsonist. There was the familiar feel of staples on the younger villain’s back, the rough texture of burnt flesh, and the faintest shift as Dabi breathed in the warm, humid air.
“Think you can hold still while I rinse this out?” Dabi asked, already cupping his hands full of warm water. He saw how it bubbled in his hands, a softness to his face, as Shigaraki hummed affirmatively in another response. The water was hot, almost boiling, as it ran down the younger villains’ scalp and down their back, making them sigh out in relief, back muscles flexing and then relaxing.
“There,” Dabi announced, after white hair had been rinsed clean. “All clean, I can braid it back again if you want?”
But he was already sectioning off portions of hair to thread together, an old familiar pattern in his mind, something from his childhood, and his hands worked quickly. By the time that the younger villain had started to yawn, Dabi had finished tying off ends. He wrapped his long arms around Shigaraki’s waist, “Ready for bed?”
Shigaraki gave a half-hearted shrug, non-committal, and Dabi tucked his head into the familiar dip in the younger villain’s neck. Faint bruises caught his eye, the scent of sweet soap and Shigaraki’s own unique smell greeting his nose, as he said nothing and enjoyed the sound of silence only broken by the dripping bath faucet. The water was still warm, it would always be warm if Dabi sat in the bathtub, but his skin was going to prune soon, and he wanted to be dry and in bed.
“C’mon,” Dabi announced, starting to rise, gently pulling the other villain up with him. The younger villain huffed under their breath, pouting but still cooperating, and they didn’t fight as Dabi helped them into a towel, making sure to grab the extra-large towel so Shigaraki could hide their chest and sit on the cold toilet seat lid to brush their teeth. Dabi took his time, wrapping his towel around his waist, humming a random song he had overheard on the street, checking at the scars under his pectorals, making sure that all his staples were in-place, and nothing had been pulled. He spat in the sink, glancing at Shigaraki, still huddled in the towel as if it was a blanket, three fingers on each hand gripping the poor fabric tightly, shivering despite the warm air.
The last of their nightly bathroom routines was finished without incident, Shigaraki was finally put to bed, curled tight in his side, thin fingers idly tracing over the ridges in his burns. Dabi held Shigaraki as tight as he dared, taking one gloved hand, kissing over the pulse centered in Shigaraki’s wrist. The younger villain stiffened but didn’t pull their hand back, and Dabi held the same hand over his heart, a silent message, and Shigaraki relaxed in his arms.
Dabi heard Shigaraki’s breath grow shallow and then soft as they finally fell asleep, he kept their body close, trying to keep them warm, hating how they would shiver under the thin blanket. He found himself subconsciously tightening his grip on the hand on his chest. Five fingers splayed over his heart, long nails nearly touching his skin, and even as his better instinct told him that this positioning was dangerous, life-threatening, deadly, fatal-
The sure presence of Shigaraki tucked under his chin was comforting in a way that gripped his soul, all-consuming, and he knew he would never let go.
His better instincts could wait until morning, his feelings would remain at the tip of his tongue, almost choking back his breath, and his heart could wait another day. He was content in that moment, content to remain in the quiet of the night, listening to the younger villain sleep soundly next to him, enjoying the privilege and blessing that was getting to hold Shigaraki in his arms.