Work Text:
Darlin' I don't know what you've done to me
But it works and I hate it
“So, we storm in, guns ablazin’,” Dabi said around another mouthful of stolen candy from Shigaraki’s stash. “Kick ass, take names, and rob shit, right?”
“That’s not what I said and you know it,” Shigaraki scowled at him, huffing as they cast another candy wrapper aside on the dirty floor. They grumbled another thing under their breath and Dabi smirked to himself. He saw the other’s hand twitch, one of few tell-tale signs that they were about to scratch their neck raw and bloody; Dabi tossed a candy at the other villain instead, drawing the other out of their thoughts, and preventing the injury.
“Charcoal,” Shigaraki muttered under their breath, flicking the candy away. Dabi noticed it was orange, Shigaraki hated orange flavors.
“Dandruff,” Dabi quipped back, unwrapping another candy, leaning back his head to catch it in his mouth. When the taffy candy hit him in the eye instead, he swore loudly, while the villain beside him let out a dry wheeze that passed for a laugh. Dabi scowled at the candy in his hand as if it had offended him before he made his second attempt to launch it into his mouth. At the last moment, he reconsidered the angle of his head - catching the candy on his tongue at the last second. He turned back to Shigaraki, smug, chewing over the overtly sugary candy. The sugar made his teeth feel rot, his tongue repulsing at the artificial banana flavor, and he finished it anyway.
Brightly colored wrappers winked and blinked in the light of the television screen. The old, pixelated video game menu with outdated boldface font, a silent, flashing PAUSE that glared at them every so often. Shigaraki had long since beaten the game, multiple times, and had even finished every side quest. But when Dabi had come back to the hideout earlier that evening, the blue-haired villain was barefaced and sitting inches from the television screen, mashing buttons, and taking great care to keep their pinky fingers off the controller.
Dabi had seen the loose bag of candy, shrugged off his jacket, and threw it over a bar stool, making a grunt as a greeting before he collapsed onto the sofa. Shigaraki hadn’t looked away from the screen, offering a slight tilt of their head and a short tch in reply. The arsonist wasn’t sure of how much time had passed before the younger villain finally paused their game and shoved at Dabi’s feet to make room on the sofa, giving a thin-slit glare when the man didn’t immediately surrender.
All it had taken was a short, implicit threat of turning the arsonist’s beloved jacket into a pile of ash and then the younger villain was sitting in their favorite corner of the couch. They grinned wolfish, Dabi scowling and pouting from the opposite side of the furniture, but never arguing. He never put up a fight, never a real one anyways, not anymore. The mood had lightened some when Shigaraki began their familiar custom, offering from a familiar brand of bagged candy. Dabi thought it was a gesture of trust, hoping in the back of his mind that he was right, swallowing down the disappointment when Shigaraki never laughed or even acknowledged the joke that Dabi had been repeating every time they offered; what felt like ages.
“You do this all the time,” Dabi would start, “some day, I’m gonna think you actually like me.”
Silence, with only a slight tilt of their head, and then nothing more. Dabi told himself the sting he always felt was just a phantom pain from the burns spreading across most of his chest.
Before long, various wrappers lay crinkled and fell onto the floor as Shigaraki adjusted their legs and stretched. The blue-haired villain yawned, smacking taffy against the back of their teeth in a way that Dabi had memorized many nights ago. He wasn’t particularly fond of the noise, hated the sound of messy chewing, but he would always find himself pushing aside the irritation when it was Shigaraki doing it.
Dabi leaned back into the cheap couch, cocking his head to the side, while his tongue kept rolling a piece of candy, trying to stay awake. It was well past late into the night, he was exhausted from the day’s events, and he was still recovering from a previous all-nighter, but- Shigaraki was up. Thus Dabi found himself in his current position, exhaustion making his eyelids droop, as he watched the other villain turn back to their bag of candy. It was a cheaply made and overly sugary candy that the older villain did not care for, but it was Shigaraki’s favorite, so he ate it anyway. The taste had grown familiar now, tied uniquely to the blue-haired villain sitting across from him, and it was still terrible, too sweet and somehow tasting of plastic and too hard to balance in his mouth without it getting stuck in his teeth - but sharing the candy made Shigaraki happy in that non-smiling, easy, relaxed way that made something shift in Dabi’s chest.
Dabi knew better than to make his actions obvious. He would never do it often enough to be suspicious, but sometimes, he would go out of his way to find that familiar bag of cheap plastic candy and bring it back to the hideout, if only so the arsonist could get that lazy, relaxed company out of the younger villain. Sometimes he would get lucky with extra money and spare time, be stealthy, and order the other villain’s favorite bento box from the cutesy shop that made panda bear rice cakes and fish-shaped cookies.
The times were few and in-between with conflicting schedules and long missions. On several occasions where Dabi found himself actively seeking Shigaraki, he had been disappointed to see the other villain focused on something else, something that didn’t necessitate Dabi - which Shigaraki would always say when he had offered to help. Dabi would shrug it off, but the rejection stung. It would sting every time.
Shigaraki never seemed to want anyone else’s input when they tried to make their next move, preferring to talk to themselves and the four walls. It was pouring over mission notes written like game schematics, ridiculous half-legible scribbles, and half written “codes” that were just Latin phonetic letters and game controller button symbols. It was playing video games, it was talking to Kurogiri, it was talking to the other team members and sometimes even smiling. It was time that Shigaraki didn’t spend time with Dabi. It stung, repeatedly, made every inhale pained and the exhale agony. Shigaraki was doing everything as they usually would, had always done, but it was a world of their own - and it was a world that excluded Dabi. Ostracized.
The thought left a bad taste in his mouth and the arsonist reached for another candy.
Dabi was midway through unwrapping a pink candy with an ugly brand print on its front face - when he felt, more than saw, Shigaraki snap their teeth at his fingers. The dark-haired villain barely held back a surprised yelp, shaking out his fingers, before giving the other villain a scowl. He rolled his eyes, ire already subsiding, as he saw the other villain snickering behind a thin hand. Something in Dabi pulsed and burned and he willed his heart to stop pounding in his chest.
Against otherwise better judgment, the arsonist snorted out a laugh, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa, while he kicked his feet up on the cushions. Dabi hadn’t taken off his boots but it was an old, dirty couch in a dirty, old abandoned building and it didn’t really matter. He knew Shigaraki wasn’t going to make a huge deal of it so Dabi didn’t, or at least, he told himself he was doing it for his own selfish reasons, nothing to do with the other’s approval-
A balled up candy wrapper hit the older villain in the face and he snarled, “Oi! Watch the face!”
Shigaraki flipped the older villain off, a slow winding motion like they were winding up a fishing rod, sticking out their tongue and revealing a pretty shade of blue that made Dabi’s breath almost catch in his throat.
“You weren’t paying attention, asshole,” Shigaraki said, turning back to their candy. They had unwrapped another blue wrapper, a dozen similar discarded ones surrounding them on the floor, always blue.
“Why do you never eat any other flavor?” Dabi suddenly asked, eying the candy bag for another opportunity. Shigaraki always threw a fit whenever Dabi tried to take anything from their bag of candy after he had finished his own bag, but the older villain had never actually seen the other villain eat any other taffy but the blue ones.
“I like the blue ones,” Shigaraki snapped. “You ask me this every time.”
“Because you never answer my damn question,” Dabi snapped back. “You only eat shit with blue wrappers, but they’ll be all different brands and flavors, it’s fuckin’ weird.”
“You’re weird,” Shigaraki threw over their shoulder, popping another candy in their mouth, another blue wrapper tossed onto the floor.
“Uh huh, whatever handjob,” the arsonist said, picking up a random candy wrapper, making a crease with his nail as he folded over a corner. “So what was I not listening to you about?”
Shigaraki chewed over a piece of candy, pausing, “Never mind, I’ll re-figure my plans if you’re gonna be such an ass about it.”
Dabi rolled his eyes again, ignoring how the staples disagreed with the motion, and folded over another corner. The wrapper was still just a folded rectangle of foil, nothing special. Shigaraki was back to chewing, loud and obnoxious, but also familiar and unwillingly comforting. The younger villain scribbled something down on some scattered piece of paper, circling something and drawing a line in a colored marker. They spilled over a half-empty can of soda onto the floor and swore in a way that Dabi found both childish and endearing.
“Kurogiri is gonna bitch about this later,” Shigaraki muttered.
“He’s never complained about me,” Dabi shrugged, forcing his eyes to remain focused on folding the foil into smaller pieces. Shigaraki hummed to themselves, then replied very quietly, “Yeah well, I still don’t want to leave him more work to do if it’s my fault.”
The arsonist raised a brow, closely watching how the other villain went to find something to clean up the spill. Dabi didn’t offer to help but he watched how the blue-haired villain grumbled to themselves, as they tried to clean up. He kept his expression neutral and gaze pointed at the folded foil slowly becoming a miniature swan. Just as he had finished the first swan, turning it over in his palm, he saw Shigaraki look over at him.
“Huh,” the younger villain started, face almost fond as they looked down at the little origami swan. “I always liked how these look. But I could never get it right on my own.”
So Dabi offered to make more and Shigaraki almost smiled, and Dabi felt his chest hurt.
Dabi had finished his fourth origami swan when he had finally looked up from his work to feel Shigaraki throwing their feet across his legs, playing an old flash game on an even older looking handheld game controller. They were focused, tongue peeking out between dry lips, messy hair falling over their face, and Dabi almost said something but thought better of it. It was nice to have quiet moments, he thought. He ignored how much he enjoyed those quiet moments with Shigaraki in particular.
Shigaraki’s hair looked soft.
:::
“Cover for me,” Shigaraki had said. Dabi remembered the afternoon so perfectly, clear and vivid, every detail screaming out in hindsight to mock him. “Don’t let some subclass pro-hero get a jump on me, understand?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi had said, shoving the shorter villain through the warp gate that Kurogiri was projecting. “I heard ya the first time, get on with it.”
Shigaraki had glared at him but there had been trust there, Dabi had seen it, and the memory of that trust left a rancid taste in his mouth. Now he was standing at a debilitated building. There was one odd piece of rumble in particular holding his entire attention; the pro-heroes hadn’t cleaned up this site yet. They were probably busy with the other mess that the league had kicked up or maybe the bridge that Dabi had blown up to distract them, but they weren’t here and that was all that Dabi cared about.
The arsonist continued to stare at the rumble. There was still plenty of dried blood. Enough to make Dabi almost nauseous, enough to make him lick over his lips and feel his throat almost choke up. He had messed up, he had let someone slip past his blind spot, had let himself get caught up in the moment - he had gotten careless and -
-and hadn’t had time to warn Shigaraki about some broccoli-headed brat attempting to kick the villain boss into a trap. It had been such an obvious trap too, just a stupid board of broken wood over a hole, charred and obviously too weak to stand on. Dabi had known it was there, had known to walk carefully around it, but he had forgotten to cover for Shigaraki’s back and then suddenly, he had heard the crack and collapse of the board. He had heard the sudden, sharp swear shouted past his ears, had seen himself turn in slow motion to see what had happened only to get a hard kick to his sternum that left him winded and stumbling. He had fallen down the same trap as Shigaraki but even though the villains had fallen mere seconds apart, Dabi had fallen with a piece of the broken board, using the friction to get a grip on the broken metal pipes embedded in the concrete floor.
He had just swung himself back on level flooring, inwardly cursing himself for having set so much of the building ablaze as he coughed on the smoke. His damaged lungs protested and wheezed and he had almost missed the sound but he had stood up and turnt back to the gaping hole. He had felt his heart race in his ears, felt his eyes go wide, and his breath seized in his throat as he looked down.
There was fire obscuring his vision but he could plainly see Shigaraki at the very bottom, collapsed over rumble, bleeding on charred ground, as they tried to drag themselves from underneath the chunks of concrete. There was a visible metal pipe impaling their shoulder in place. Something was definitely wrong with the right leg. The younger villain was not crying out in pain, forever too stubborn to admit defeat, but Dabi could see the blood. He could see the tears and cuts in the villain’s black costume, the exposed pale skin and fresh red blood, the initial pinkness of heat blisters becoming first-degree burns. Shigaraki was being stubborn and trying to stand on their own, was halfway to pulling themselves free and then Dabi had heard the building groan. The floor shuddered violently.
Dabi had seen, all too clearly, the moment that Shigaraki had heard it too. The world felt like an elastic band pulling tight. Various screams ran out, two kids fell down the hole, someone’s scream was cut short, someone else called out for help.
Dabi had glanced down and seen Shigaraki almost look afraid, how they had looked upwards at the falling sheets of dust and initial crumbling infrastructure, how those few half-seconds had changed the look of anger into something almost like terror.
-and then Dabi ran. He had run for cover, had dodged falling debris and skidded across the floor to the opposite wall as the building fell inwards. He braced himself to break through the window, to feel the initial sharp pain of glass stabbing into the tiny creases and wrinkles of his burns, and ignored the dozens of screams as the building collapsed on everyone.
When Dabi had regained consciousness, he had woken up at the designated rendezvous point, his body aching in an unfamiliar way. He groaned, coming to his senses, and distantly heard the sound of someone calling out his name. His arm felt slow to respond to commands as he tried to shield his eyes from the sudden flashlight in his face.
“Dabi, god, we thought you were dead,” Toga had said, rushing to grab bottled water from a dusty backpack. She looked worse for wear, dirty and bruised, the edges of her sweater covered in leftover soot. Compress was nursing the right side of his jaw with something, mask forgone, as he attempted to smile under a split lip.
“Good to see you’re still among the living,” Compress tried to joke, and then winced when he had moved too fast. Spinner licked over a cut on his wrist, casting a short glance at Dabi and nodding. He had a few bandages and his usual bandana was being used to cover a head wound. He had two missing claws and a broken one on his foot, he was gently hovering it over the floor.
Twice had duplicates checking over everyone, offering first aid, even as he himself slumped in a beaten up chair. He had a dozen burnt out cigarette butts by his foot and he offered a weak smile to Dabi. Magne was silent, holding her knees, broad shoulders heavy with something that Dabi couldn’t initially place.
It clicked as Dabi realized that someone was missing, no, two members of the league were missing.
“Where’s Shigaraki?” Dabi asked, and when no one had answered, he asked again, angrier.
“...we don’t know,” Toga said quietly.
“And Kurogiri?” Dabi tried, trying to sit up only for his body to protest angrily in response. He saw his chest bandaged, a red spot on his side, two fingers on his right hand in a makeshift splint. He forced himself to sit up, holding back the painful moan, as Twice finished off another cigarette.
“Still searching through fuckin’ rumble,” the doppelgänger choked out around a shaky inhale, his hands were shaking and his foot kept tapping the floor, too fast, too hard. “Been out for fuckin’ hours.”
“Fuck,” Dabi had said, but his voice had been soft. Disbelief, shock, or fear - he didn’t know. But when he heard someone sniffle, he hoped it hadn’t been him.
:::
Dabi wasn’t one to stay still, especially when he was focused on an objective. He rushed his own healing, forced himself upright too soon, getting back on his feet as quickly as he could so he could go out and search. The league took turns in searching amongst the rumble for several days as they watched the casualties and injury tolls tally up on the news. They had gotten the “big splash on the scene” that they had wanted but they were short of a leader and their beloved nomu.
Kurogiri returned eventually, dejected and covered in dust, mumbling curses and new coordinates to check as soon as the league was rested. They never found anything, nothing but a broken handheld that Kurogiri had immediately recognized and yanked from Twice’s hands. It had been Shigaraki’s favorite handheld, an old limited edition, the nomu had said. The screen was cracked and wobbly game music gargled through the speakers as air wheezed through a broken cartridge. Kurogiri cradled it like a newborn.
The league kept coming back for an entire week to find Shigaraki, but even with their combined best efforts - Twice making copies of bloodhounds and Magne tossing around the larger pieces of rubble - they never found more than the handheld. The group had been sitting dejectedly at their new hideout, chewing over the last of their supplies, when Spinner had told everyone to come see the television. Shigaraki’s broken, bloody face was on camera - muzzled, limbs bound and hands in some kind of special containment, being loaded onto an armored truck. They looked frantic and their face was so bruised and bloody that it was visible even from the half-decent cable news camera.
Dabi felt his heart come to a sudden stop in his chest, stomach rolling, as his knees felt locked into place. He couldn’t take his eyes off the television screen.
The anchorwoman was proclaiming that the “culprit of the failed coup” had been put into pro-hero custody at a guarded facility. All Might somehow looked even more smug on camera than in-person and Dabi had felt ready to vomit. His stomach churned all the more as he thought back to Shigaraki’s words to him just before the mission.
“Don’t let some subclass pro-hero get a jump on me, understand?”
That brat from before - all suited up and beaming as he stood beside All Might, and Dabi inwardly vowed to burn that smile right off his face. Burn it right off, melt it down to bones and then shatter those bones for extra penance. He would get back at them all, it was his fault, his stomach revolting as he threw up in the dingy bar sink. No one even turnt to look at him and he was grateful.
It was all his fault.
:::
Getting revenge was a slow process, a very slow and painful process.
Dabi’s arms hurt, his body hurt, he had been using his quirk too much; he was running himself too hot, putting himself in pain. He was in so much pain, physical body aside, his mind was still haunted - haunted by images of Shigaraki, limp and bloody and staring up at nothing, tossed among rubble.
A recurring nightmare that plagued his mind and left him with bile in his throat or on the floor next to his bed.
The dream would always get more violent, more horrifying, and even more graphic. Shigaraki’s face would always be half hidden under the falling ash and cement, there was always more blood, every dream poured out more blood. The dream would replay how the overhead was about to collapse, but the flames were so much hotter now, reaching up even higher. Dabi was shouting, calling down to the other villain, but Shigaraki wasn’t responding, red eyes dark in a way that made Dabi panic even more. The building was collapsing, Dabi was trying to save them both, and everything was falling down all around him, and he was panicking as he kept looking down the hole that kept growing perpetually deeper, he kept screaming himself hoarse, and that idiot wasn’t even bothering to wake up -
It was an awful nightmare, a sick, twisted dream that had been torturing him for weeks. The mental anguish almost overshadowed the physical pain that Dabi had been putting himself through, pushing his limits constantly even as his body protested.
Dabi knew he was a sadist on his best days, masochistic on his worst, but right now - everything hurt. His chest hurt from something worse than the old lung damage, hurt from more than just bruised ribs, hurt more than the random wound on his right side. He didn’t remember being shot but he couldn’t remember how this fight had even started. He had been fighting near constantly for weeks, maybe even months now, picking off his adversaries one-by-one, sometimes three-on-one for the Hell of it. He needed a vent for the pain. Everything hurt so much.
Dabi leaned against a crumbling building, breathing labored, eyes wet from the bleeding head wound on his left temple and the tears he couldn't properly shed. He was at least an hour into this fight, and he didn’t even know the names of the guys he was fighting, just some nameless wanna-be heroes trying to make easy money by monetizing their quirks. The reminder made Dabi angry, made the anger in him even worse, he was so angry-
Some pro-Hero came up to Dabi’s left, thinking he had gotten some upper hand while Dabi was recovering. But it was a false cool down and, without even glancing up, Dabi shot up his arm to blast the man aside. The villain heard the scream cut itself short and figured the man had died, glanced over and saw a burnt body barely twitching. Bright blue eyes slowly turned back at the fight-
Oh.
Dabi stared listlessly at the empty street, as an apartment building caved in and part of its third floor fell onto the streets, a car alarm going off under the weight of a fallen bathtub. There were no more heroes in sight, no one to fight, just blood and ash on the ground, rumble and bodies-
There was the flash of Shigaraki’s broken face on the television again, and Dabi vomited, clutching his stomach, barely avoiding getting anything on his shoes. His knees buckled and he barely managed to sit in the shadows of some half-demolished wall.
The villain told himself he wasn’t sniffling, that he wasn’t crying, and especially that he wasn’t pitying himself - but as he sat in that spot, alone save for rumble and ash and corpses, he wept silently. Or at least as close to weeping as he could get past the burn damage around his eyes. It was all his fault, it would always be all his fault, and he had yet to make up for it.
He felt he was no closer to finding Shigaraki. He hoped they weren’t dead, he didn’t want to think about the possibility but it felt more certain as the days stretched to weeks to months.
:::
“What were you thinking,” Toga was immediately on Dabi as he finally stumbled into the safe house. He felt overwhelmed by sounds. He could hear someone counting money, someone else was eating, someone else was watching the news on the television. The news anchor was reporting on the day’s casualties and something about structural damage, then another anchor said something about how Dabi was “unhinged and acting in a reckless manner-“
Toga shoved at him, then shrieked as she reeled back, her hands soaked in blood. The room went quiet and Dabi felt all eyes on him. In lieu of saying anything, he just shouldered the girl aside and went up to his self-declared room. It was Shigaraki’s room but Dabi had taken it over in a vain effort to keep it pristine and as close to how Shigaraki left it.
Dabi heard several voices call his name but he ignored them, slamming his door shut, and locked it for extra measure. It wouldn’t hold against any of them if they were really determined but it felt like a small security. It gave him the illusion of privacy and his shoulders slumped heavily. Then the arsonist found himself standing in the center of the messy room that he had called his own for however long it had been now. The window had a great view of the nearby forest. Shigaraki had picked out this safe space, something about how the trees reminded them of their childhood, the faintest recollection of a memory in the back of their mind-
Dabi heard a knock at his door, he didn’t answer, and distantly he recognized the voice as familiar, but could only make out the words of “concern” and “needs to rest.”
It took a long time for Dabi to blink, a longer time to shuffle to the attached bathroom, and even longer to strip out of his clothes to sit under the spray of cold water in the shower. He needed to cool down, his body hurt, his head hurt, and his chest felt ready to cave in-
Dabi felt his next breath rattle in his lungs and he was thankful for the little things. It was the little things like how the walls on this side of the safe house were thick and far away from all prying ears. It made it easier to cry conveniently under the spray of water, hiding how broken he felt, how alone he felt, how much of a failure-
Shigaraki’s voice haunted his head, replaying old memories and random conversations in the dark. That familiar, dry voice was still clear in his memory, but specific memories drifted up to the forefronts of his mind. The pair had been forced into sharing a room again, sharing a bed no less, but Dabi was a pillow hoarder and Shigaraki had insisted on commandeering the entire blanket. In response, Dabi had pretended to be already asleep to avoid having to give up any of the pillows. The younger villain hadn’t been too affected by the decision but they were rarely bothered by anything that Dabi did. But tonight had felt different, in his feigned sleep, Dabi had heard softer things in the other villain’s voice.
Dabi couldn’t remember much of that night but he distinctly remembered Shigaraki trying to inch back towards the biggest source of warmth in the bed. Shigaraki came as close as they dared, doing everything they could to avoid disturbing him. He could still remember the presence of Shigaraki’s breath on his bare arms, goosebumps popping up on his remaining flesh, as the younger villain curled into his side. Coincidentally, it was the side of him that had more flesh, less burn damage, and Dabi felt self-conscious. His skin felt alive, burnt hot under his skin, and he had prayed to a god that he didn’t believe in that Shigaraki wouldn’t know he was awake.
Shigaraki was curled into Dabi’s side, bringing the blanket with them, as they tried to use the other villain’s shoulder as a pillow. Shigaraki’s hair was somehow still soft, not dry or greasy, surprisingly clean. They weighed practically nothing, a faint presence at the edge of Dabi’s senses, only becoming small when they were alone and only vulnerable at night.
Shigaraki had sighed, finally had settled into their position, and Dabi felt their heartbeat slow through their shared space. The other villain was asleep in seconds but it felt like hours as Dabi laid there, still awake, and suddenly caught amidst a flurry of confusing emotions.
Dabi suddenly sat upright in bed, a stolen piece of Shigaraki’s possessions just under the pillow, a cracked little handheld game console. Dabi had purposely mispronounced the game console’s name several times, pretended to forget the name even more, but now he really couldn’t remember and Shigaraki was nowhere in sight to ask.
The villain’s heart cracked even more, a swell of pain behind his ribs, his insides were probably a mess of shatters at this point. His tear ducts were at their limits, bordering on pain, as the burns contracted and pinched. Dabi anticipated the migraine forming and sighed angrily. He stared down at the handheld console and wished he had taken the chance to learn how to play when Shigaraki had asked him so many times before.
Dabi wished he could have broken the damned game console, but thought of Shigaraki and how sad they would have been to see their favorite possession in pieces, and reluctantly put it back on the bed. His head continued to throb, his chest aching, and his hands shook with repressed anxiety. He fell back onto the bed, telling himself that he was fine and wasn’t completely miserable; even as he fumed at the fact that he couldn’t even find the damned charger for the game console and couldn’t let it play out that stupid opening song until he fell asleep like he had done for the first week that Shigaraki had been missing.
Dabi laid in bed for a long while, unable to do much of anything, until he eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion. He desperately hoped that he would wake up to Shigaraki kicking down his door to yell at him to stop sleeping in, hear Shigaraki downstairs call someone out for cheating at the pool table, hear Shigaraki complain that someone had brought them the wrong sushi order again even though they would always eat it anyways, saying it “wasn’t as disgusting” as they had thought - something they only said when they enjoyed something but didn’t want to admit it.
Dabi missed the arrogance and snark that Shigaraki performed in front of others, and he especially missed the quiet side of Shigaraki that liked to eat sweet things with no nutritional value, look up cheat codes just to brag how they were so much better at the game than other players (whilst also using the cheat code themselves), how they would sometimes lay on Dabi’s side of the bed and curl into the lingering warmth on the bed sheets.
Dabi missed Shigaraki, he missed the person he had come to call his friend, even though he had never gotten the courage to ever call Shigaraki a friend to their face.
:::
“We got a lead, we got a lead, wake the fuck up,” Toga yelled, as she pounded at the bedroom door. Blue eyes shot open as the man quickly hid the game console and then rushed to the door, still in his underwear. His eyes were wild and he had barely suppressed his quirk in time to not burn this door like he had already done several times at past safe houses.
Toga pointedly ignored Dabi’s lack of clothes, her own breath slightly rushed, grin wild and sharp, eyes bright and eager for violence. Her words practically vibrated with energy, “We got a lead. Get dressed, we leave in five.”
Dabi was ready in three minutes, a new record.
:::
It was a solid lead, but not an easy sneak-in like Dabi would have wanted.
The league had been forced to split up and silently break into the holding facility, and Dabi had made it known how much he wanted to ransack the entire building to be the one to find Shigaraki first.
The villains had crept past doors, avoiding all direct confrontation, and done well to keep a low profile. They were vastly outnumbered, and potentially outgunned, and were forced to remain on the defensive. Specific members were kept outside and made to be distractions. Toga had initially complained, arguing she should have been allowed to lead, but finally agreed to follow Twice on the lower end of the facility and help him gain access to the more secure areas. Someone needed to get the access codes and she had already hacked several accounts to get the building location.
Their problems and fights were of little concern to Dabi, still intent on his goal: find Shigaraki. He hated every minute that he was left outside, fidgeting and twisting the inner fabric of his jacket pockets, pretending to be cool in the autumn air. He half thought it was funny that the winter months were already approaching but the week prior still had summer weather.
When Kurogiri created a warp portal to let him in, the arsonist had tried to appear calm even as his heart rushed in his ears. He was so close.
Dabi came across the door easily enough, it looked like any room door with a dangerous criminal inside - reinforced steel, various random locks and screws, a compression tank along the hinges, something that looked like a really complicated alarm system. It had a keypad lock, fingerprint scanner, and even an old-school combination lock, how convenient. The man made to blast the door open, when he heard the quick wish of air as a knife was thrown at his hand, barely missing him.
He shot a glare at Toga until she shook her head, sticking out her bottom lip, “It’s rigged, no key code, big boom.”
Dabi growled, almost making a childish move to kick the door but he resisted, “So what now, fang banger?”
Toga beamed, grinning with sharp teeth, “It just so happens that I have this really cool hand and key card.”
“Figures,” Dabi said, rolling his eyes, catching the items tossed and watching Toga text something on her phone and then run back around a corner. She said something about covering for him and Shigaraki while she went to get the rendezvous point, but Dabi was already using the sticky note on the back of the key card to start opening the locks.
Dabi cursed under his breath, hating all the glaring hot pink gel pen ink. It was hard to read but he told himself to bear with it, he was so close.
Then, he felt the building shudder. He paused, narrowing his eyes, and just as he had turned back to the door lock - he heard the fire alarm go off. He cursed underneath his breath as he felt the first initial waves of the explosives go off. He had forgotten about that part of the plan, Toga had mentioned that another group had been planning to break in, and that their break-in would cover their entry and escape. The other group had finally arrived and had decided to blow a hole through the east wing, which unfortunately left Dabi with far less time to escape than he had originally planned.
The ceiling began to crack as the floor moaned. He saw the cracks begin to web across the floor and noticed the signs of a cave-in. He could hear faint screams and gunfire, he could smell the incoming fire and smoke. Flashbacks hit him hard and he swallowed harder. His jacket was getting covered in dust, it was getting hard to breathe, and the locks themselves were getting hot. The keypad rejected the code because of Dabi’s scarred and burnt fingers, the ash and crumbling building aggravating the sensitive screen, and the villain was just about ready to risk the explosion for triggering the alarm system, when suddenly the locks all gave way.
Dabi rose up from his knees, peering inside, as he walked in with caution. He kept his hands free, ready to engage in combat, if necessary, footsteps even as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There were the usual noises of a top-secret lab; random beeping, the paced sloshing of liquid, an oxygen machine pushing steadily along, and some distant machine rumbling in the background - but no sign of Shigaraki. Dabi almost thought the lead had been false after all, that they had been led into a trap-
-but then, the man let out a shaky breath as he saw his long-awaited prize.
Shigaraki looked so much smaller in the hospital bed, almost childlike, tightly curled into themselves, as much their restraints would allow. They looked sickly, pale and sweating, and their cheeks were flushed; they had tubes and needles everywhere, an oxygen mask and heart monitor, even little padded sensors over their forehead. Shigaraki’s eyes were closed, breathing shallow in a weird image of sleep, almost peaceful if the observer didn’t know any better. Dabi hoped there wasn’t a catheter.
Dabi came up close, almost kneeling down to Shigaraki’s eye level, suddenly taking in the ugly hospital gown, and quirk-suppressing shackles. He saw awful bruising peeking out from under leather straps. The younger villain had likely woken up at some point after being detained and had to be restrained, Dabi almost smiled at the thought of his boss still fighting back, holding themselves together with sheer spite and will alone.
Dabi tried to be careful in removing the initial needles, the intravenous needle especially, almost wincing at the amount of tiny holes that were left behind. The ventilator and feeding tubes were much more difficult. Dabi flinched at every initial resistance when he pulled, trying to be as gentle as he could, trying to keep in mind his crucial time frame. He hadn’t even gotten close to getting the leather straps off, let alone to start to sit up the younger villain, when he heard a distant rattle behind him to his left. Dabi cursed under his breath, wishing he had shut the giant door behind him, worried how his flames might react in the room.
“Friendly fire, friendly fire,” Twice hurriedly said, hands up in surrender. “Just here to help if you need,” there were two more clones behind him.
Dabi nodded, licking over his burnt lower lip, the cool touch of his tongue piercing almost reassuring, as he looked back at his remaining work to free Shigaraki. He looked back at Twice, eyes hard and determined, “Watch the door, don’t let anyone else in. As soon as I get them out, we need to ditch this place, pronto.”
“ASAP, pronto, quick as a dick-” Twice echoed and Dabi almost immediately regretted taking the other villain’s offer of help. He tuned out the rest of the chatter, trying to focus on the task at hand. He had a good amount of final wires and tubes to pull out, listening for any changes in Shigaraki’s condition, when he heard a sudden shout from the door.
“Oh shit, uh, Dabi - we gotta go!” Twice (or was it a clone?) said, “The building’s really coming down, we lost a chunk of the hallway and-!”
Everything went still, then in slow motion, Dabi watched the bed start to slide away from him. Various machines started to pull away from outlets and corners and power bases, metal grating on tile, as the villains in the room swore almost in unison. Dabi swore under his breath, taking a quick inhale through his nose, activating his quirk to simply burn the leather straps back, partially burning some of Shigaraki’s wrist bruises. He hefted his leader up, still uncomfortable with how light the other villain weighed; as strong as the other villain was, they had always looked on the far skinnier side, a combination of poor nutrition and inconsistent sleep schedule.
Twice helped Dabi avoid impact with a huge machine rushing at him, the clones helping to find another exit, before breaking apart a metal gurney table to build a makeshift bridge across part of the ruined hallway. The villains jumped across, side stepping crumbling infrastructure and falling debris, and the occasional mutilated corpse. There was a lot more blood splatter than Dabi thought was necessary, borderline excessive, but it wasn’t his business. He wasn’t paid to do clean-up, just the messy work.
Dabi and Twice managed to jump down two floors onto a lower level, the former having attempted to soften the impact of landing by jumping from various falling debris on the descent down. He cursed under his breath as Twice sped ahead of him, calling out random directions, having already memorized the layout of the building. Thankfully, his memory was better than his jokes, Dabi thought sarcastically, and they were able to clear most of the destroyed facility before they came into a hard obstacle.
Several dozen heavily-armed guards stood at the ruins of the front door. Dabi wished he could have blown them all to ash, but he needed both hands to hold Shigaraki on his back since they were still unconscious and unresponsive, something that still put an unsettling drop of lead through his heart.
“Uh, Dabi, got any ideas here?” Twice said, backing up some, noticing the almost synchronous click of safeties going off. “We got maybe a few minutes before Compress’ little orb thing goes off.”
Dabi gave the other an incredulous look, Twice laughed nervously.
“Was I the first to mention it?” Twice asked, Dabi sighed.
“Can’t rush them,” Dabi started, trying to rule out options. He thought he felt something on his back, possibly an itch or muscle strain finally hitting him, and he shifted his hold on Shigaraki. He licked over his burnt lip, tongue piercing clinking against his teeth.
“Going around seems a bit, let’s say, fucking stupid,” Twice said, scratching the top of his head through his costume. Dabi wished he could have thrown a rock at him, or the security guards, anything to vent his current frustration. He felt a bit of debris fall, something tickled his nose, and he sneezed - loudly - and felt himself sway on his heels.
Dabi barely had time to switch Shigaraki from his back to his front, falling and landing on a discarded, broken chair. He groaned, and felt something else shift - the presence of fingers at his neck, four fingers, wait-
“Shit,” Dabi yanked Shigaraki from his neck, the other looking at him with clouded eyes, slurring something. The younger villain grumbled something, trying to reach forward again even as Dabi tried to grab their wrist, as the older villain struggled to pull them both onto their feet. The flimsy hospital gown barely left much to the imagination and Dabi had felt something soft when he had pushed Shigaraki back. He tried not to think about it, deciding now was not a really good time to be wondering about miscellaneous things.
“Wait, is the boss up?” Twice asked, turning his head back from watching the security guards. His clones were assembling something in a dark corner, but Dabi couldn’t get a good enough look. He was pretty sure it was more explosives.
“Where’s that measuring tape of yours?” Dabi responded back. Shigaraki was sinking and dipping on their feet, Dabi having to yank them back up every time they almost slumped forward.
Twice grinned behind his mask, “Over there, with me!”
Dabi let out a sigh of aggravation, as Twice made some hand gestures to a clone and beckoned them over. They whispered something between each other and the clone went back to the other doubles, relaying the message. Three of the clones stood up, revealing a makeshift turret gun. Dabi stared at it before Twice spoke up, “It shoots missiles.”
“You couldn’t have said that before,” Dabi snapped. “You could have-”
“I didn’t know what they needed the tape for!” Twice said, throwing up his hands. “They don’t always tell me everything, we have separate minds, y’know-”
“Just fucking fire the fucking gun,” Dabi groaned.
Twice gave a two-fingered salute, several clones coming up further to heft the weapon over. Dabi noticed how the doubles were carrying it, it was an old school turret gun, more than likely something that Twice had seen in a movie or magazine. He would be annoyed about it later, settling to just be grateful for now. Shigaraki stumbled, a foot slipping, and nearly sent themselves and Dabi to face-plant on the floor had Twice not caught them both - right as the clones had set off the turret gun.
Dabi’s ears rang, Twice hissing out in pain, and Shigaraki groaned. Indoor shooting was painful and annoying, Dabi thought to himself. But he shoved Twice back and motioned for him to check the entryway. The other villain gave a thumbs up, the faint sounds of the guards screaming as the shells continued to fire. When the torrent clicked empty, Dabi chanced a look over the corner. It was empty save for the lingering bodies, he made eye contact with a clone, and three of them went to check for any survivors. They each gave a thumbs up to show the coast was clear.
Dabi sighed in relief, seeing Twice type something into his phone, and he waited for the warp gate to appear and take them far away from this facility. Ash was falling faster now, and the ceiling looked moments away from collapsing as Dabi and Twice made a run for the main door and then dashed into the cover of the night. Sure enough, Kurogiri’s familiar warp gate welcomed them in and Dabi felt Shigaraki relax in his arms as they subconsciously realized they were safe.
Finally safe, finally going home.
:::
The arrival was not pleasant.
Within seconds of stepping out of the warp gate, Shigaraki was snatched from his arms and carried upstairs by Kurogiri. The nomu said nothing, not even a thank you, just wordlessly took the barely conscious Shigaraki, and then turned away. Dabi felt his heart lurch in his throat but told himself to reign in the initial anger. Kurogiri was Shigaraki’s guardian, of course he would want to care for the other villain as they had arrived back, that had been the nomu’s entire function and livelihood before the league existed.
Dabi tried to follow after the nomu but found the bedroom door shut in his face before he could enter. The lock clicked softly afterwards.
He struggled with the initial urge to burn the doorknob off, biting at his lower lip, and then sighing before he knocked. “It’s Dabi - May I come in?”
Kurogiri didn’t open the door, instead replying, “Master Shigaraki will not be accepting visitors until they are fully conscious.”
Dabi scowled to himself, “I feel like the right hand and the person who got them out should-“
“No,” was the response and it was said with such a finality that Dabi just sighed and backed off. He wanted to kick the door down and scare the nomu into submission, to show he was stronger, to prove that he deserved to be in the room - but this was Kurogiri, not just any other group member. The nomu had been caring for Shigaraki since they were a child, they were more or less a parental guardian, and he had been grieving every day that their child was gone. It had taken several days for Kurogiri to stop setting out Shigaraki’s regular snacks and soda on the bar counter. Even when he did, he found himself standing straighter at exact times only to deflate immediately afterwards, as his shadowy face physically writhed in pain.
Dabi would get his chance to see Shigaraki, he would spare the nomu his privacy for now. But he knew Shigaraki wouldn’t take long to wake up, especially if the younger villain had only been unconscious due to a medically induced coma, their metabolism would wear the drugs off quickly.
The arsonist chewed over his bottom lip again, gave one last look to the bedroom door, then wordlessly went down the stairs and left the building entirely. He couldn’t stand everyone celebrating, and he didn’t want to participate - not without Shigaraki being awake to see it, or even beside them at all; especially not when Dabi still felt responsible for the capture at all.
Cowardice, a dark part of his mind hissed.
I’m sorry, a small childlike voice responded.
:::
Dabi had been sleeping, snort caught mid-leave, as his phone blared in his ear. He swore, limbs thrusting out quickly, tangling his limbs in the blanket, promptly falling from the couch and onto his face on the dirty carpet floor. His phone hit him on the back of his head and he groaned, hand instinctively going to rub over the aching spot, as his eyes finally adjusted to the dark of the room. He saw Shigaraki’s contact on the front of his cracked screen and answered just before the last ring.
His voice was still husky from sleep, “What- You’re awake?”
“Come here, now,” was the only sentence spoken, and then the younger villain hung up. Their voice sounded scratchier than its usual dryness, not a hint of sarcasm, and almost vulnerable. Dabi thought something over, spied the cheap bag of artificially flavored, plastic-tasting candy sitting in the armchair, his jacket thrown carelessly over it. He scrambled to his feet, brushed some leftover chip crumbs off his shirt, and began to get ready. He could sneak the overnight bus without much suspicion, no one able to recognize him would be awake at this hour, and it would be much more convenient than trying to drive while still half asleep. He still had a usable bus pass.
The ride over to the other side of the city was grueling, even if it was only ten minutes of riding, and then another fifteen of walking into the woods. He went to unlock the door, hand already going to the key in his jeans, when it opened up to reveal a disheveled Shigaraki standing barefooted in the doorway.
“Sup,” Dabi greeted, backpack slung over his shoulder, as he held up the candy bag and familiar brand of milk soda. “You summoned me, I brought some…supplies.”
“…you didn’t have to,” the other replied, their voice still softer than Dabi expected.
“Already did, are you gonna let me in or what?” Dabi asked, it was cold, and he was anxious in the doorway, unsure if he could be as brash as they were before, or if he needed to be cautious. Shigaraki’s silence and long pauses worried him, but he kept his demeanor calm and neutral. There was no need to set off any unnecessary panic, the other villain had been through enough.
Shigaraki stepped aside, hesitating a bit as Dabi walked inside, and then grabbed at his hand. The elder noticed the distinct feel of gloves, and felt his shoulders relax as he returned the firm grasp.
“You okay?” Dabi asked, and when Shigaraki didn’t respond, he continued, “It’s okay if you’re not, I won’t judge.”
“Can we sit on the couch for a while?” Shigaraki asked, their face was still tilted downwards, eying the candy bag, instead of making eye contact. Their thumb rubbed over an old staple, and even though this was usually an automatic recoil and scathing remark, Dabi allowed it. His voice was soft in reply, “That’s okay.”
Sitting down was somewhat tricky when Shigaraki refused to let go of Dabi’s hand even as he tried to sit down, with the younger villain ending up partially in his lap, with their legs thrown over his own. The almost-intimacy made his heart race a bit faster, but he refused to let his emotions show, licking over his lips, before offering the candy bag.
Shigaraki hesitated, but accepted, a small smile cracking at the sides of their face and it made everything in Dabi’s chest tighten. He hadn’t meant to smile back, tried to play it off as a smirk, and repeated his usual joke, rolling a piece of candy between his fingers, “I saw that - guess somebody missed these?”
The younger villain continued to smile, and Dabi noticed how much skinnier they looked. Their hair seemed a bit matted, but also slightly tamed, suggesting that Kurogiri had likely tried to undo the weeks of neglect. Shigaraki only let go of his hand to open a candy wrapper, chewed noisily, happily, and everything about it made Dabi’s chest hurt and his cheeks almost flame in the dark room. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was vibrating in his seat, his heart thudding loudly in his chest, as his ears rang.
“I guess so, I missed- just getting to have this little downtime,” they explained. “You’re always quiet, you listen. It’s…nice.”
“Glad that you feel safe,” Dabi responded, then mentally kicked himself for blurting it out, until Shigaraki squeezed his hand again.
“Kurogiri said you brought me home,” Shigaraki said. “Thank you.”
Dabi’s chest tightened, guilt sneaking up back on him, his tongue felt thick in his mouth, “I wasn’t about to let some pro-bastards keep you. We have a mission, remember?”
Shigaraki’s smile became a grin, “Yeah, we do.”
“You’ll need to rest up,” Dabi said. “Eat some vegetables and shit, we’ll need to fatten you up after all this.”
“You sound like you’re trying to eat me,” Shigaraki said, raising a brow, chewing another two candies at once. Dabi wondered how their teeth didn’t fall out from the sugar overdose.
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” the arsonist blurted out. Shigaraki blinked, and he tried to quickly save himself before he embarrassed himself further. “Anyways. I’ll drop some takeout over tomorrow while I’m out-“
“Could you stay the night?” Shigaraki blurted out, and Dabi felt his cheeks burn. He silently gulped, tongue growing and drying and choking him, as his palms began to sweat. “We can just sit here, we don’t have to really talk or do anything-“
“We can do anything you want,” Dabi replied quickly, words spilling out of his mouth faster than he thought or could control. “We can sit here or do whatever you want, for as long as you want, I’m here until you kick me out.”
Shigaraki’s smile was almost gentle, sincere, “Thanks.”
A pause, and then they added, “Thank you for coming back for me.”
Dabi couldn’t do anything but smile back, even as his heart clenched in his chest, and his tongue swelled up in his mouth. He swallowed thickly, struggling to hold back the lump in his throat, trying to elbow the other in the ribs gently, “Wasn’t about to let some pro-punks keep you from the mission.”
Shigaraki cocked their head at him, and Dabi wondered what they saw, how they saw him, and when the younger villain looked away, Dabi wished he could have held the moment longer. The other villain was already walking back to the couch, several blankets thrown over it, and pillows taken from upstairs now laid out on the floor. Dabi let Shigaraki lean against his shoulder while they sat, silently chewing over taffy, and he watched them defeat the same familiar game boss for some umpteenth in a row. He slid a box into Shigaraki’s lap.
The younger villain paused their game, frowning at the box, turning it over in their hands, “What’s this?”
“An apology,” Dabi blurted out.
Shigaraki’s frown deepened, opening the box to see the recovered handheld console, and shaky fingers reached out to the newly refurbished handheld. The villain said nothing for a long while, hesitantly going to turn the game back on, and when the light lit up in its classic loading screen, and then opened up to the old game menu.
“I couldn’t save the game cartridge,” Dabi said. “But Twice knew a guy who could save the console at least, I did find a copy of original game, so-”
“This is - thank you,” Shigaraki interrupted, and they leaned further into the older villain. “You didn’t have to.”
“You love that thing,” Dabi shrugged. “You’re always on it, you carry it everywhere, I know it means a lot to you.”
“It does,” they replied, and Dabi had to force himself to focus on breathing steadily. “A fresh game does mean I have to re-beat all those bosses though.”
“Sure does suck that you’ll have to beat your old high scores,” Dabi joked back, taking a risk in trying to comb his fingers through blue hair. It was clean, felt soft between his fingers, and when he wasn’t immediately punished with five fingers to the face, he gave soft pets. “You’ll have to outdo yourself all over again.”
Shigaraki started a new game file, typing in their name, “Mhm, should be easy enough.”
Dabi smiled to himself, thankful for the dark room, “Glad to see you’re up for the challenge.”
There was a stretch of silence, as Dabi enjoyed the familiar sounds of key smashing, game music, and outdated video game sound effects. He could feel himself nodding off, warm in several ways, and his foot was definitely asleep. “Good to have you back, boss,” he slurred, tiredly. He was too tired to realize he had leaned back into Shigaraki, relaxing almost completely, as he nuzzled at their head. His heart stuttered as he felt the slight incline of the other’s head into his touch.
“Yeah,” Shigaraki replied. “I’m…glad to be back with you too.”