Work Text:
1.
Touya Todoroki had never enjoyed the heat.
Heat only meant bad things to him; heat was sweltering, heat burned and burned until skin gave way to ashes, until screams reached a fever pitch and cut out with the crack of a whip, vanishing in a moment as quick as a breath along with the last, blistering remnants of his humanity.
Heat meant fire, and fire meant burning.
Dabi thrived in the heat.
Dabi felt lava crackle under his skin, simmering at a low boil along his arms and scorching into his eyes. He felt ash fill his lungs with every inhale, and pictured smoke leaving him on the tail end of every exhale. His steps scorched the earth beneath his feet, leaving a trail that turned wandering citizens right back around in their path, never daring to venture where the clear warning signs lay. Dabi sought the lick of flames in his chest that sprung up in the adrenaline filled rush that came right at the beginning of a fight ( no it’s not panic and fear and pain , it’s not it’s not it’s not-)
Dabi felt the lava crackle and breathed smoke and he felt alive.
(And as he turned the tingles in his arms to giant swathes of blue light and scorching, burning heat; let the smoke fill his lungs and spill over, encapsulating his chest and stomach and touch his skin with a hushed breath; Touya became nothing but an afterthought.)
2.
The league was warm.
The dismal, run down state of their brand new shiny hideout was quickly overtaken by traces of each member; the most notably of which being Toga. Fuzzy blankets slowly appeared on the couches; blue and pink and overwhelmingly red . Thickly knitted sweaters were forgotten draped over kitchen stools; nail polish bottles sat tipped over on the bathroom counter, and multicolored hair ties littered the ground like confetti. The girl was a whirlwind in every sense of the word; she flew through the rooms of the base much like she zoomed into the life of the other league members; flitting from corner to corner, leaving bits and pieces of herself and just hoping, praying that they would be cradled and held close to the chest.
And to Dabi’s surprise, they were.
Compress would sit at a kitchen stool, glass of water and book in hand, hunched over the scratched countertop. His hand would wander, toying with the frayed edge of a sweater’s sleeve, dragging it into his lap like a comfort, a warmth in the chill of the winter months. Toga would meander by, and pretend to not be overjoyed as Compress patted her head almost as an instinct as she passed by his seat. Her eyes would catch on her sweater laying over his knee, turned to a makeshift throw blanket as his nimble magician’s fingers flipped to the next page of his novel, (poetry, or a pretentious mystery tale knowing him).
Shigaraki would stumble into the main living space of the lair, clothes rumpled and hair frizzy, having clearly awoken from a midday nap. Before making it to the kitchen, he would pause, eyes snagging on a bright yellow hair tie conveniently at his feet. (Toga would look up from her place on the loveseat just in time to see his hair being twisted into a low bun as he exits, familiar yellow adorning blue-white locks. She would grin, a touch soft and a touch something else warm and vulnerable and raw.)
And, (to his own annoyance), Dabi would slump onto the league’s couch after a failed recruiting stint, fingertips singed and nerves taut and sparking like a live wire, flames itching at his extremities and begging to explode .
And Toga would pass by, her smile subdued (they all had those days, as much as they avoided talking about them. Melancholy and sad, when everything was too much, too much- ) and eyes tired. Dabi would glare as she dumped herself right up against him, feeling his skin jolt at every point of contact, fire screaming to go go go-
And suddenly there was a blanket thrown over two laps, and a movie cued up to play, and a head of blond tucking into his side like a kitten. And before he knew it, the flames quieted. Not a word was spoken, Toga knowing this was a balancing act, that the fellow murderer she was next to was as volatile as napalm on the best of days, and that this might have (definitely have) been overstepping the unspoken boundaries that the other had kept up since the two joined the alliance. But the man had not lit her on fire, not yet; and he seemed to be gradually relaxing as the horror movie droned on in the background. Toga allowed herself to sink into the couch and draw her favorite blanket up higher around the two of them, seeing the look Dabi cast her out of her peripheral. He gazed back at the movie screen, slowly exhaling a breath that sounded almost painful in its depth and blinking long and slow.
Dabi felt the lava oozing under his skin settle down, the ash in his lungs settling to the bottom like a cold weight. He glanced down at blond hair at his side and swallowed down a flinch at a glimpse of white, white hair and scarred arms and trembling, terrified limbs-
Enough.
He blinked, and white faded into blond again, Toga in the place of the ghost he had imagined.
( She’s not a ghost, not even close you absolute coward-)
Touya blinked away the flash of memories and breathed.
He felt warm.