Work Text:
if he tried thinking about it, tomura wouldn’t be able to tell how it got to this point. he remembers taking a good look at him and deciding to hate him. he remembers having to admit to himself that he actually hated the silence, the emptiness in those eyes and not knowing more about the guy. he remembers how spontaneously it started, how blue his eyes look when you stare at them up close and how one night dabi lit up a cigarette and words started spilling out of his mouth, a gift to tomura in form of yet another secret between them; and tomura listened as his index was tracing the stitches scattered across dabi’s chest like a constellation. he listened to dabi mention his father and thought that maybe they could understand each other like no one ever had before.
so that’s how it got to this point, he guesses. that’s how it got to them gravitating towards each other almost every day and to their kisses tasting sweeter, even if they still won’t admit it out loud.
“take it off” tomura whined. he was straddling dabi, trying not to linger too much on the fact that he looked so fucking handsome bathed in the 5pm sunlight that filtered through the blinds.
dabi chuckled and finally freed himself from his shirt. tomura allowed himself a second to take in the view before him: broad shoulders held up by elbows pressed to the mattress, spiked black hair ruffled by the shirt, the most annoying sly smile ever painted on his face.
“you’re ugly, you know that?” tomura mumbled as he pushed dabi down on the bed using the palms of his hands.
dabi just kept smiling as he complied, wrapping his arms around tomura to bring him down as well. “what does that say about you then?” he indulged.
“that i’m charitable” tomura grinned, but the thigh dabi pressed in between his legs made that smugness collapse fast.
dabi hummed. “well i’m not thanking you” he whispered right before tomura shut him up with a kiss.
“fuck you” he muttered but there was clearly no heat behind it because he then kissed dabi again, and again, and again.
tomura let himself get lost in it. being with dabi was the only thing that not only stopped his itching but even made him forget that it was a thing at all. it was the only thing that made him feel like he could be tenko again someday, if he wanted to.
dabi was kissing him back and when he reached out to pull tomura closer by the back of his neck, that’s when tomura stopped thinking. he wanted more and more and more. he brought his hands up and went to cup dabi’s face, his fingers brushed against his skin and–
“shit!” tomura suddenly jumped back and sat there in horror, arms up in the air and fingers shaking.
dabi furrowed his brows. “what?”
“i-“ tomura tried to stabilize his breathing. “fuck, i almost… i almost touched you with my whole fucking hand”
dabi stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “hey, it’s not a big deal”
tomura narrowed his eyes. “of course it is, asshole”
dabi grabbed tomura’s wrist and slowly brought his hand to his lips. “it’s okay” he whispered before kissing his palm.
tomura held his breath as he watched dabi kiss his skin, fingers so dangerously close to his face they were twitching. “dabi…” he whispered.
“i said, it’s not a big deal” the guy repeated with a smile. “are you worried? no way. does that mean you like me?” he teased, faking a shocked expression.
tomura closed his hand into a fist to calm his nerves and rolled his eyes. “ha-ha. i’m half naked and sitting on top of you, that counts for something” he shot back. “now quit fucking around and let me go”
dabi tightened his grip and stared at him. “and what, you keep your hands behind your back the whole time? treat me like i’m made of glass and might break?”
“you quite literally would, so stop being so dramatic” tomura replied; when he stared back at dabi he saw that emptiness in his eyes again.
“then spare me. i don’t give a shit if i die and i don’t like being treated with kid gloves” he stated, letting go of the other’s wrist and pushing it away.
tomura picked up dabi’s shirt and hated how he kept his pinky up in the air to do so; he could’ve disintegrated his stupid shirt for all he cared. then he threw it at his face. “good” he said and hopped down the bed.
“good” dabi replied from behind the shirt.
as he walked out the bedroom, tomura kept thinking about dabi’s words.
i don’t like being treated with kid gloves.
he came up with an idea. oh, that was exactly what he was gonna get.
a few days later his request was ready and he thanked the professor for crafting it so quickly.
as he put them on, he felt weird in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. how was that the first time in his life he cared about touching something without the risk of destroying it?
that thought kept echoing in his head as he approached dabi. the moon was high in the sky and the man was silently smoking a cigarette, leaning against the railing out on the balcony in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.
tomura walked up to him and stared at his back for a few beats before reaching out and covering dabi’s eyes with his hands. “guess who?”
the man didn’t even flinch. “…a blue haired brat?”
“fuck you” tomura smiled and held his hands in front of dabi to show him his new gloves; they were black and thin and only covered his first three fingers.
dabi threw his cigarette away and twisted in tomura’s arms, taking his hands and holding them in his much larger ones to inspect them. “boss, i’m touched” he grinned. “not literally, it seems”
at that, tomura just rolled his eyes.
“you really do like me then” dabi kept teasing.
“get off your high horse, i didn’t do it for you” he shot back. “i was just tired of toga making fun of me for how i eat or hold my toothbrush”
if dabi knew he was lying, he was kind enough to let it slide. “how convenient for us, then” he hummed. “go ahead, then. touch me.”
when tomura looked up at him, those impossibly blue eyes were finally full of emotion again. he held his breath as he pressed his hands on dabi’s chest; it was warm and firm under his touch and he could feel dabi’s heartbeat quicken as he patiently waited for him to confirm to himself that everything was okay. tomura exhaled and let his hands roam, feeling the bumps where his stitches were and not missing how stiff dabi went at that, as usual. without thinking he dipped his head down and started kissing along that line.
“stop that” dabi whispered, his breath trembling.
tomura cupped dabi’s face with both hands and kissed him. “you’re beautiful” he whispered against his lips and dabi pulled him closer and kissed him with the urgency of someone who is no longer able to cry but wants to for the first time in so, so long.
it’s okay though, because tomura is tearing up for the both of them and dabi’s cheeks are wet now, too. “that was the first time someone wanted me to touch them and i was afraid of hurting them, and not the other way around” tomura whispered.
“you’re the only thing that’s not hurting me“ dabi replied. “the only thing in the whole world that doesn’t hurt me.”
he moved a strand of hair to the side and kissed tomura on the forehead.
“now you stop that” the guy complained with a smile at the sudden affection.
dabi smiled back at him and god, tomura looked like a fucking fallen angel when he was standing under the moonlight like this. “hey, i wanna touch you without hurting you, too.”