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    Summary

    “ … Umm. Jeez. Fuck,” Dabi says. He’s grinning now and lifts himself up on his arm to lean over and press his palm to the side of Izuku’s sticky, tear-stained face. “You’re a fucked up little thing, aren’t you?”

    Ah. Izuku’s crying again. He supposes he is. But then Dabi’s kissing him. Brushing the pads of his thumbs over Izuku’s freckles and through the warm tears over his hot face. He kisses Izuku again and again and again, laughing quietly with each one.

    “Don’t worry, Izuku,” he mumbles. And he smells like smoke. Stale and eye-burning. “You can hate yourself. I think it’s cute.”

    Izuku’s confession to Kacchan doesn’t go great, and though he expected that - he’s falling apart over it anyway. Dabi’s there to pick up the pieces. (Not a good thing.) (Really, really bad thing.)

    Or, Izuku's really good at loving things that hurt him.

    Language:
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