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As a villain, Dabi should probably have more self-awareness than he actually has.
He’s vigilant enough in a fight, adrenaline pumping through him and bringing back memories of burning orange and the feeling of his skin bubbling and screaming and loud—but in normal everyday scenarios he’s frighteningly unaware.
He’s gone through multiple jackets because he hasn’t stepped out of the way of Shigaraki’s hands or Toga’s knives. He’s tripped over video game remotes and carpets (and Spinner lying on the floor) in the League’s base. He’s bumped into door frames and knocked his head on the bottom of the sink when getting the League’s first aid kit.
So, it’s not really his fault when he doesn’t move out of the way of a little girl walking on the sidewalk as he walks home from picking up some groceries at the little convenience store near the base (Toga had been whining about getting some chocolate for the past few days, and he needed some more snacks. He wasn’t going to waste the trip).
The girl doesn’t even cry when she gets knocked into, even though she’s small and from experience small kids cry all the time. All that happens is her grabbing onto his hand to stop herself from falling over, her little cat coat almost making Dabi’s heart soften as she rights herself before she seems to realize that she’s holding someone’s hand. She flinches, lets go, and is pulled away by a man whose face Dabi misses because he’s sort of too focused on if he bought the right brand of chocolate or not. So focused, in fact, that he hadn’t even noticed that the little horn on the girl’s head had been glowing the slightest bit as she’d righted himself.
He doesn’t think twice of it while walking home, content in his confidence in (probably) having bought the right chocolate.
It’s also a testament to his lack of self awareness that he doesn’t notice the lack of his staples pulling on his clothes—or his skin—until he gets back to the base and pulls his sunglasses, scarf, and coat off and Toga (who is bouncing in her spot, hovering until Dabi puts down the grocery bag) gasps and tries to reach out for his face.
He pushes her back, like one would an annoying cat. The situation wasn’t unusual (because Toga has a terrible habit of trying to sneak up on him and pull at his staples so that he bleeds) until he gets a glimpse of his pale, unmarred arms, the scar-free skin that he usually sees only on the tips of his hands running up the length of his arm to disappear into his t-shirt sleeve. He has sneaking suspicion that if he pulled off his shirt right now that the skin on his chest and running down into his pants would also be perfect, unmarred by the usual purple that covers it and only sporting the healed burns he knows were covering his skin before the purple scars showed up.
Toga’s mouth is moving, but Dabi thinks his ears are ringing too much to hear what she’s saying as he brings his hands towards his face, running his unburnt fingertips over the unmarked skin under his eyes and over his lip and…
He grabs a lock of his hair and pulls it down to his eyes, staring at the blinding white on top of his head.
“I need to sit down,” he mumbles, dropping the bag to stumble out of the room and collapse beside Shigaraki on the couch.
Toga follows after him, seemingly having stopped to grab her chocolate as she unwraps a bar before plopping onto the floor in front of the couch. Shigaraki doesn’t even look up from his game.
“You look younger,” Toga says, gazing up at him.
Shigaraki snorts, his pinkies hovering over the controller as he moves his character to the side. “How, did he finally use moisturizer for once?”
Both of them ignore him, although Dabi really wants to make a comment about him being a hypocrite. Shigaraki’s skin had inexplicably been looking better lately, but it was still heavily scratched at, and he really shouldn’t be calling the kettle black when he was very obviously a pot.
“You and Shiggy’s hair matches now!” Toga chirps, and that gets Shigaraki’s attention
His head snaps over, and his eyes widen as he takes in what must be Dabi’s umarred face and white hair.
“What the fuck,” he breathes, his concentration wavering and one of his pinkies touching the remote he’s holding.
It’s nice, Dabi thinks, laughing without having to think about popping a stitch on his face.
Looking at himself in a mirror is weird. He’s 23, he looks 23, and yet he also looks like Touya, he looks like his past and he hates it.
The only thing he’d done today outside of lazing around the base is go to that store, and the only person he’d interacted with was that little girl.
She had done this to him, and he has the sneaking suspicion that he’s never going to see her again, and even if he did, he didn’t know if she knew how to undo it (or if he’d even want it undone). He was stuck like this, with a face that reminds him a little too much of his father and hair that is the same colour as his mother, who he hasn’t seen in years. All of his connections to his family—besides his connection to Shouto as a villain—were severed at the same time he stapled his peeling and burnt skin back together. One interaction with one little girl had changed all of that, reversed years of distance in a second.
He needs to fix this.
He needs to buy more hair dye.
The absolute last person who Dabi wants to see at any moment in time always seems to be the person who shows up.
It’s part of his bad luck—no awareness, no privacy, nothing. Once he’d accidentally burnt some of Twice’s specially-ordered snacks and was still holding the charred package when Twice had walked into the kitchen. That hadn’t been fun.
Most of the time though, the person Dabi wants to see least is the person most other people would love to see most—Japan’s Number 2 Pro Hero Hawks.
Hawks has a habit of bursting in through Dabi’s door, whether he locks it or not. Those fucking feathers are able to pick locks, and Hawks uses that to his advantage more often than not, so Dabi has, at this point, stopped locking it.
The last person Dabi had wanted to see him looking like this was Hawks, so it tracks that the hero would bust his way through the door as Dabi was staring at himself in the mirror.
Red primaries almost fly to Hawks’ hands as he pins Dabi against the wall, the sharpened feather swords digging into his throat as his head bangs slightly against the wall.
“Who the fuck are you,” Hawks asks, looking into Dabi’s eyes. Dabi waits, because he enjoys the way his yellow eyes scrunch as he tries to rectify who this man with Dabi’s eyes is, before he decides to free the bird from his misery.
“Woah, pretty bird,” he says. His voice is slightly less gruff than it was pre-little girl, and Dabi absently thinks that he should also pick up a pack of cigarettes, if he wants to keep his aesthetic going. Another thing to get while picking up hair dye, if he remembers them. “If you wanted to pin me against the wall you could’ve just asked.”
Hawks’ eyes widen, and his feathers soften and fly back to his wings as the hero lets go of them. His hand goes up to Dabi’s face, and Dabi lets him run a hand over his skin for a second before grabbing Hawks’ hand and pushing it away.
“What happened to you?” Hawks breathes, his other hand coming up to touch Dabi’s face. Dabi snorts and lets the other hand touch for a second before he grabs it as well, now holding both of Hawks’ hands.
“What, you telling me you liked the burns better?” Dabi teases, and Hawks pouts.
“No,” he says, and Dabi smiles softly at him. Something feels…different. Nice, in being able to smile at Hawks without the incessant tugging of staples in his face, the worry that he’s going to pull something or tear something or break something when he just wants to be happy with his…whatever Hawks is.
The way Hawks’ eyes scan over his face before a smile splits his face makes Dabi’s heart warm in a way that is indescribable, a way he doesn’t think he’s ever felt and doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel again. This time, when Hawks’ hands come up to touch his face Dabi doesn’t stop him, letting the blond squish his cheeks.
A glint sparks in Hawks’ eye and Dabi tries to savour his tender moment before it gets ripped away, Hawks opening his mouth and saying: “Watch out, hot stuff. I might break up with you since you’re not shiny anymore.”
“You’re not funny ever,” Dabi says, and pushes him off of him, the sight of Hawks’ wings flailing before he falls onto his ass almost making up for how unfunny the man Dabi has chosen to love is.
(“No, seriously, I think you should get some piercings or something.”
“Shut up, birdie.”)
Hawks tries to follow him out when he goes for hair dye—
(“Oh, c’mon, it’s not like I’ll get crucified for being out with you anymore.”
“But I don’t want my face plastered all over the tabloids, thanks.”)
—but Dabi seemingly manages to lose the bird by getting on the train, almost euphoric in the way he doesn’t get second glances from the people around him even though he’s forfeited his usual three layers of disguise.
It’s almost freeing, to be able to walk in better neighborhoods than he usually frequents without getting stares for being in a ratty coat. This lack of disguise, of course, means that when Hawks lands next to him while Dabi takes a break in an alley (because, christ, he hasn’t been around this many people in years. He usually goes shopping later at night, when people aren’t out and about) he isn’t all that surprised that the hero found him.
He’s almost a walking beacon, with his hair attracting the man’s affinity for bright things.
Hawks crosses his arms as he leans against the wall, “you really tried to ditch me? On the train? Why are you going so far anyway?”
“Yeah, look, I don’t want this face,” Dabi circles his own face, and Hawks gets this look on his face like he wants to squish Dabi’s cheeks, “in the tabloids. And, because I can.”
“But you’d look good!”
Dabi gives him a withering glare, “and when the commission asks you Hawks, who’s that guy you’re hanging out with in the tabloids what’re you gonna say.”
Hawks elbows Dabi and, from somewhere, produces the coat he usually wears when he doesn’t want to get recognized, the one that allows him to collapse his wings into it comfortably. It’s a support item Dabi had very nicely asked (threatened) someone to make for Hawks once he’d realized that the other didn’t leave the house ever because he always got recognized. It was black, long, and looked almost like a North Face puffer jacket. Dabi had joked that Hawks should get a skin fade to go along with it, just to complete the look, and Hawks hadn’t talked to him for a week.
He shrugs the coat on and pulls his flight goggles off, stuffing them into a pocket before messing up his hair a bit and pulling out his actual glasses and slipping them onto his face.
The irony has never been lost on Dabi that Hawks, unlike his namesake, doesn’t actually have good eyesight. The amount of times Dabi has teased him about it is immeasurable, but before Hawks could tease him back about Dabi’s own fucked up eyes.
Now, Dabi had consciously left his eye drops behind at the base. Having to self-moisturize his eyes had been fine because Dabi had forgotten what it had been like before he’d burnt his own tear ducts closed. Now, however, he was almost thriving, not having to stop to moisturize his vision every few minutes so that he could continue to see.
At least this would stop the Eraserhead jokes. He didn’t think he could deal with any more of his belongings getting dusted because someone else had decided to make a comparison between him and Shigaraki’s favorite hero.
Dabi links his and Hawks’ arms before dragging him back into the crowd walking past, slipping into the stream easily.
They walk silently and aimlessly for a while before Hawks starts dragging them towards a store to get what Dabi had actually left the house for.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Hawks asks quietly, “to just be able to walk around.”
It is nice, and Dabi replies as such as they reach their destination, Hawks unhooking their arms to walk through the entrance.
Dabi separates from Hawks and beelines to the hair dye section, scanning the shelves before grabbing his usual brand before moving towards the candy aisle, where he knows Hawks will be picking up some bag of sweet shit Dabi wouldn’t touch with a five foot pole.
“Yo, birdie, you done picking out your sweets?” He asks, turning the corner into the candy aisle to see Hawks, trying to casually lean against one of the store’s shelves while talking to a familiar group of the last people Dabi would have ever wanted to see.
“—didn’t expect to see you here, Hawks!” Fuyumi Todoroki chirps, a basket containing three drinks as well as multiple snacks off of the shelves around the aisle being held in one of her hands.
Fuck. Fuck. Bad luck strike two. He really can’t catch a break today, can he?
Dabi immediately tries to step out of the mouth of the aisle, accidentally knocking against a shelf in his haste and knocking a few trinkets off of the shelf. Curse his fucking clumsiness. He doesn’t have to be looking to know that all four of the people in the aisle are now looking right at his hiding spot.
He coughs lightly, knowing there was really only one option in this situation. This better work.
“C’mon pretty bird, we gotta go,” he calls, and then waits.
“Ah, I better go,” he hears Hawks say.
“We’re heading towards the checkout too,” Fuyumi says, and Dabi almost doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Fuck. Why him.
He resigns himself to his fate as footsteps turn the corner and he comes face to face with all of his siblings for the first time in…a long time. (If he thinks about it too hard, he might remember the fact that he has probably never seen all of his siblings standing together like this ever, and isn’t that a depressing thought?) Hawks tries to step in front of him, tries to half-obscure him even a little bit, but Dabi can see the realization of just who he is hit Fuyumi the second she sees him, and he knows there’s no getting out of what’s about to happen.
His eyes flick to Natsuo, who looks similarly stricken, then to Shouto, whose face looks suspiciously blank, but who Dabi can tell is squinting at him slightly, almost as if he’s trying to regain a memory he lost somewhere.
Fuyumi drops her basket to the floor with a clatter as tears start to run down her face, one of her hands reaching up into the air towards Dabi’s face, as if to touch him and make sure he’s real.
“Touya,” she breathes, her hand hovering in midair, and he reaches out to grab it. Her hand is soft, and he grips it like a lifeline. If this had been months before, and he hadn’t been so used to Hawks absolutely hanging off of him every second they get alone, he might’ve also cried.
If there was one thing the bird had been good for, it was teaching him that touch starvation was a real thing and he’d had it. (He’d never admit it, because learning he actually liked Hawks hanging off of him every second he got might inflate his ego to absolutely unmanageable levels, and Dabi wasn’t and would never be prepared to deal with that.)
Holding his hand seems to renew Fuyumi’s tears, and she launches herself into his arms.
“Hi, Yumi,” he says, wrapping his other arm around her, slightly awkwardly, the box of dye bumping against her back. No matter how awkward it feels, or how many years it’s been, Fuyumi’s hugs still feel like home. He almost tears up.
“You…” she says, pulling away, “you asshole, you’re supposed to be dead!”
Nevermind. Not emotional anymore. Her eyes flick to Hawks, who looks incredibly guilty, and Dabi almost wants to hit him for being so obvious.
“Have you been… how long have you known Hawks? Have you been with him this whole time? You… we thought you were dead… you…” she keeps trailing off, like she doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t blame her. For her, he’s been dead for, what, 10 years at this point? He’s surprised she even recognized him. Or Hawks, for that matter. Those glasses had an almost Clark Kent-like effect on them.
“He, uh, we met at…” Hawks trails off, and Dabi almost wants to slap him, but Fuyumi is holding his hand closest to him and the other one has dye in it. The bird has been spared this time. “We only met a few months ago and he didn’t, uhm, tell me his last name?”
It sounds like a question, and is about as believable as something that is a complete and utter lie.
Ok, that’s too mean, it’s a half-truth. Dabi had told Hawks his first name a while before he’d told him his family name, and that had only been a month ago now, but wow the birdie could not lie to save his life. It’s a wonder he managed to infiltrate the League in the first place, but Dabi knows from experience that he has a whole different persona during his hero work. Outside of it, he’s a fucking mess.
This is all a fucking mess, honestly. Dabi decides to divert his attention instead of trying to salvage whatever Hawks had going on
“Hi Natsu,” Dabi says. His younger brother (because no matter how much taller than him Natsuo gets—like 2 inches or some shit, completely unfair—or how much bigger he is than Dabi—apparently constitution wasn’t enough, he also inherited his mother’s thin figure. It’s really not his fault—he’ll always be Dabi’s little brother.)
“You—” Natsuo says, then punches him in the arm. Dabi almost flinches at the thought of his staples popping and how he’s going to have to deal with that, but he doesn’t have staples embedded in his skin anymore, holy shit so all Natsuo does is make his arm hurt.
He pulls his hand from Fuyumi’s to grip his arm. “Fucking, ow.”
Natsuo smirks, “just making sure you’re real.”
“You’re adjusting well,” Dabi mutters, and Natsuo snorts.
“Maybe I always had a feeling, deep down.” Natsuo says. “And besides, there was… Shou…” he trails off, looking at Shouto.
Weird. Natsu was usually one to speak his mind. Dabi decides to ignore it and look at Shouto as well.
His youngest brother, however, isn’t looking at him, and is instead focused on the black hair dye box in his hand.
Dabi grimaces.
“Shouto?”
Shouto’s head snaps up. His eyes scan Dabi’s face, locking their eyes together before asking, “you dye your hair?”
Both Natsuo and Fuyumi look down at the dye bottle and Dabi holds it up, scratching the back of his neck.
“Ah, yeah. Black…suits me I guess.” He tilts the box from side to side.
Honestly, he thinks, he should’ve grabbed a better brand. If he’s going to keep his hair black now (and he’s grown quite attached to the black over the years, so he wants to) he should probably buy dye that won’t wash out at the slightest touch of water.
Hm. He’ll think about that later.
They all stand there for a minute, in the middle of some random shop. Dabi scans the faces of his siblings, Fuyumi still wiping tears off of her face, but now both Natsuo and Shouto are looking at him with that same squinty look. Forget being separated as children, it seems all Todoroki’s have the same mannerisms either way. Shouto looks ever so slightly more like their dad while doing it, so Dabi guesses it comes from him.
He coughs.
“Well, uhm, I guess I’ll see you around?” He says, because he actually does want to dye his hair and honestly running into his siblings has kind of drained the rest of the energy he’d had left from being in crowds today. He’s never stopped loving them, sure, but running into them suddenly wasn’t exactly on his ‘Returning To Looking Like A Normal Member of Society’ bucket list.
Fuyumi scrambles for her phone, unlocking it and handing it to Dabi.
He takes it gingerly in his hands. It’s got a clear case and a picture of what looks like her and that bunny girl Hawks hangs out with sometimes. Hm.
“Put your number in,” she says. “We can…go out for lunch sometime. Or you can come over for dinner. I…I’d like to see you again, Touya. You’ve been gone for years, and I…”
I can’t lose you again, she doesn’t say. You’ve been dead and now you’re alive and I almost can’t believe it, but I’m seeing it in front of my eyes, she doesn’t say.
Fuyumi had been the one he’d spent the most time with, back when he’d still lived at home.
When he’d ‘died’ at 15, she had been the last one he’d said goodbye to. This was his sister, his best friend for so many years, because he’d refused to make friends at school.
He put his number into her phone, and she looked like she was about to start crying again.
“Give it to Natsu and Shouto as well,” he says, then he grabs Hawks’ wrist to drag him away.
Even after picking up a new dye the two groups drift to the checkout together, and Dabi gives Fuyumi one last wave as they split up in front of the store, Dabi and Hawks heading back towards the neighbourhood the Leagues’ hideout was in and Dabi’s siblings presumably heading back towards Natsuo’s dorm.
Dabi drags Hawks into the first alley he sees, and proceeds to collapse against the wall, sliding down to the dirty floor and sitting on it, his face in his hands. After all this, he might ask the bird to fly him back to the base, no matter how much he hates it. He doesn’t think he wants to take the whole walk/train ride back at this point.
“Holy fuck, oh my god,” He breathes. “Holy shit.”
“Sorry I didn’t warn you, hot stuff,” Hawks says, dropping down to crouch in front of him. “They kind of sprung up on me.”
Dabi hums, and Hawks entwines their fingers.
They sit there in silence for a few seconds, Hawks rubbing his thumb over the back of Dabi’s unscarred hand. Unscarred. Holy fuck.
This day has been too much, and the sun is only just getting close to setting. The alley they’re in starts to get darker, casting dramatic shadows on Hawks’ face as he shimmies the plastic bag with their stuff in it out of his hand and up his arm to caress Dabi’s face.
“You ok?” He coos, and Dabi takes a deep breath.
“Today’s been a lot,” he says, because he’s seen his siblings and Fuyumi has his number and he might be going out to eat with her, or them.
He doesn’t even care about how all of his dramatic plans have been ruined by his scars disappearing. Maybe that little girl had done him a favour. Maybe all of his siblings being together and talking means…Maybe Shouto looking comfortable around them means…
He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about how everything he’s structured his adult life around may or may not come tumbling down if he ever sits down for dinner with his siblings and they inevitably start talking to each other. About them. About dad.
He doesn’t regret anything he’s done up to this point, but still. It’s a lot to take in, that one small perspective shift and an interaction that couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes had shifted his entire worldview.
“Dabi, c’mon, let's get back and dye your hair, you’ll feel better,” Hawks says, standing up from his crouching position and sticking out a hand.
Dabi grabs it, letting him pull him to his feet, when a shadow eclipses the entrance to the alley.
“Dabi?” A voice calls, and it’s familiar in a bad way. A very bad way. Strike three, he’s out. His lack of awareness is really pulling its own weight today, Dabi thinks, as a very very familiar figure comes into view.
Shouto Todoroki stands at the mouth of the alley, eyes wide and sweeping Dabi from head to foot.
Dabi sees Hawks adjust his coat in the corner of his eye, getting in position to use his feathers, but Shouto isn’t in any sort of position to attack. His eyes are wide not in shock and anger but almost in shock and…surprise, before he schools his expression back into a more neutral one. Neutral and almost… smug. What the fuck is going on.
“Shouto, I—” Dabi starts.
“I knew from the second I saw you in the store,” Shouto said, “and I’ve thought Dabi—you—were Touya for a while.”
Dabi blanches.
“What the fuck,” Hawks breathes.
“We have the same eyes,” Shouto says simply. “Do you think I can’t recognize my own eyes?”
“Are you snarking me right now?” Dabi says, and another laugh comes from the mouth of the alley, Natsuo stepping up behind Shouto.
“It’s weird, right?” He says, “the more time he spends with his friends at school the worse he gets. You should’ve heard what he said to dad after you set that weird monster on him.”
Shouto smiles faintly, as though remembering what he said. Dabi almost wishes he was there.
Almost.
“What, is Fuyumi there too?” He asks instead, and Natsuo shakes his head.
“Nah, we sent her ahead to my place, said Shouto forgot something in the store and came to follow you. I was the only one Shouto told about his theories, anyway, and I only found out because I saw a text from Midoriya on his phone. She doesn’t know.”
Dabi can’t bring himself to be relieved.
“So… what. You two have just known that I…” He trails off, and Natsuo snorts.
“That you were an A-rank villain? Yeah,” Natsuo scratches the back of his head. “Either way, Shouto’s theory was confirmed by my boyfriend when I asked him. We just didn’t expect you to look like…” he waves his hand “that.”
There are so many things that Dabi could ask about in that sentence, so he just decides to focus on one.
“You have a boyfriend?”
“That’s what you’re stuck on?” Natsuo asks, throwing up his hands, “you’re terrible! Can you die again?”
Dabi snorts, letting laughter bubble up in his chest until he doubles over with it. Natsuo also snorts, and Shouto looks incredibly happy, a smile on his face.
Hawks looks vaguely concerned at the sight of all three of them, and it only makes Dabi laugh harder.
Elation bubbles up in Dabi’s chest, and he smiles widely at his brothers in the mouth of the alley.
“I’m not going to let that go, y’know,” he says to Natsu, and his brother huffs.
“Get on Shouto’s ass instead,” Natsuo whines, and Shouto’s face flushes.
“At least I’m not dating a hero or an S-class villain,” Shouto says, crossing his arms.
“Fucking what,” Dabi shouts as Natsuo grumbles.
“It's not my fault Touya’s dating Hawks. Not all of us can bag a pro hero like him and Fuyumi. At least mine hates dad just as much as I do. We all know Hawks is a fanboy.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a—hold on, Dabi and I aren’t dating.” Hawks waves his arms. “I wouldn’t date a villain, in fact I was just…arresting him. Yep. That’s what I was doing. Come here… villain.” He says, swinging one of his hands onto Dabi’s shoulder awkwardly.
Dabi brushes it off. “Knock it off birdie. If Natsu’s dating an S-rank and Shouto knows about it they’re not going to freak about us kissing on the mouth.” He looks up at Natsuo, “there’s only so many S-ranks. Who the fuck are you dating?”
“You need to unlock brother level 2 to get that info, Touya. Spend time with us and maybe you’ll find out.” Natsuo looks smug, crossing his arms.
Dabi thinks he’s getting ahead of himself. His brother may be a college student, but his stupidity knows absolutely no bounds.
“It’s fucking Shigaraki. My younger brother’s dating Shigaraki Tomura. Jesus fucking christ.” Dabi almost feels like collapsing against the wall again as Natsuo and Hawks gape at him. Shouto looks a bit like he’s watching the most interesting TV show ever, but only because Dabi’s interrogation hasn’t even touched him yet.
“How did you know!” Natsuo shrieks, and Dabi grimaces.
“I’ve spent enough time around him to know he speaks half in video games, and you literally just did that. It wasn’t that hard.”
Natsuo looks vaguely upset that his secret is out, but straightens up and looks Dabi in the eye.
“For real though, we should get together some time, all four of us. And since you don’t look like you’ve been fucking cremated—”
“You think you’re so smart.”
“—anymore, we should really have dinner.”
Dabi sighs. Today has still been overwhelming as fuck, but now at least he has an outlet (yelling at Shigaraki when he gets back to the base) and…dinner with his siblings is looking more and more appealing the more he thinks about it.
This…might actually be ok.
“Yeah,” he says, “alright. Get my number from ‘Yumi and text me, we can set something up.”
Natsuo beams, and Shouto perks up.
“Yeah, sounds good.” Natsuo steps into the alley, Shouto looking up at him for a second before following. They both embrace Dabi, and he wraps his arms around them too. It feels just as much like home as Fuyumi’s hug had, and Dabi feels happiness bubble up his throat again. Goddamnit.
He pulls away before the tears come, and sets down the alley. “See you,” he says, and Natsuo and Shouto wave as they exit out the other end.
He takes a deep breath, and Hawks slips his hand into his again. Dabi squeezes it, and looks at his boyfriend.
“C’mon birdie, let’s go change my hair colour before someone else recognizes me.”
Him and Hawks exit the alley, and hold hands all the way back to the League base.
They pass the smaller store he had been to the day before on the way back, and Dabi thinks that if he ever saw that little girl again he might have to thank her, and maybe give her a bit more candy than her parents would agree with.
(In the kitchen of the Aizawa-Yamada household, Eri sneezes into her elbow before going back to drawing something to give to Lemillion, who she would see the next day. She smiles, placing her blue crayon back onto the table before picking up the paper to show to her dad, who smiles and asks if she’d like to store it on the fridge until the next day. She says yes, and she holds it onto the fridge while she places the magnets.
She almost asks if she can see the scarred man, like she had the day before, but her dad had frozen up and questioned her while she had been drawing him, so she had just drawn Lemillion today instead.
He had been one of the only people to not yell at her for using her quirk besides her dads and Hitoshi, and she’d wanted to thank him for it.
She hopes she can see him again soon.)