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If you had asked Dabi months ago what he would be doing on a simple Friday night in the humble month of October, his answer would probably be something along the lines of ‘trying not to starve’ or perhaps ‘halfheartedly trying to drink himself to death in some motel.’
Currently, that is not his answer. Because, as it stands, he’s being used at the centerpiece on a couch full of mass murderers and domestic terrorists.
Because he’d be a ‘waste of a human space heater’ if he delegated himself to sprawling over the loveseat like he usually did. Because the League of Villains is full of fucking children.
Toga waves her arms wildly, shushing everyone as she fiddles with the remote in her hands.
“It’s starting!” she shrieks, and as Twice startles a little at the volume and nearly spills popcorn down all of their laps, Dabi accepts the budding prospects of a long night.
The title card of some campy slasher flashes onscreen, courtesy of the terror duo that Twice and Toga made when they wanted to do something. And what they wanted to do, apparently, was binge horror movies from sundown to sunrise.
…Using Dabi as the heat source. Five bodies all in some way against his.
This is seriously what he’s resigned himself to?
//
“C’ mon!” Toga cries. “They didn’t even try to make it look real!”
The nameless twenty-something-year-old-posing-as-a-teenager screaming in the film answers with a gurgle when her throat is unceremoniously slit. Spinner scoffs, “Seriously, it’s like they don’t even know what they’re doing! Nobody screams like that when they’re stabbed.”
Compress hums in the back of his throat. “See, now, what I don’t get — ah, look there, he’s cleaning it up so easily! If cleanup were actually half that easy—”
“Maybe you, like… like once you kill enough people the universe decides okay, now blood won’t coagulate and be horrible to clean up anymore.”
Toga perks up. “How many do you have to kill?”
“Too many for one lifetime if you haven’t already hit it,” Dabi mutters, and earns himself a sharp jab to a staple on his ankle.
//
“Kill him!” Shigaraki shrieks. “He’s right there! Why the fuck is she trying to fight him?!”
“That’s just stupid,” Spinner sniffs. “She deserves to die just for that.”
“Hey, maybe she just lost her weapon! It’s right there! Oh— oh, no, she has one on her and she…” Twice trails off, making a little ‘huh’ noise.
Toga clicks her tongue. “She doesn’t even have to get close to him! It’s a knife, she could just throw it at him.”
“Yeah, she could, but what if she’s never thrown knives before? What if she just misses or it grazes him or something, and then she’s out of a weapon and he has a knife?” Dabi chimes in, pointing aimlessly at the screen.
“Then she should run up and stab him!”
Toga. Ever the problem-solver.
___
“That’s totally cheating! Dabi, Tomu’s totally cheating right now, isn’t he?” Toga pouts, swinging her cheap, checkout-line carving knife wildly uncaringly.
Dabi stares, hands twitching from the leftover pumpkin guts drying fucking terribly in the seams of his hands, at Shigaraki. Who is making direct eye contact with Toga as he decays little sections of his own… fruit (vegetable? What the fuck does a pumpkin even count as?).
“Why would you agree to a contest with him in the first place?” Dabi blinks, and then squints. “And why the hell are you asking me to mediate?”
“Be- cause, Spinner would totally take Tomu’s side, and Jin is no help in contests!”
“No Compress?”
Toga makes a face at him.
“Sorry! I ain’t sorry at all!”
Spinner averts his gaze. Shigaraki sticks his tongue out at her, like the mature adult he is.
Compress hums — the damn magician, with absolutely no spillage or mess. What the fuck. “He did agree knowing your certain prowess with a knife. I’m not sure if quirk use qualifies as cheating.”
Toga stills. Stares into the middle distance before the tell-tale skin shifting of her quirk flares, eyes warping into a shocking familiar half-lidded red, clothes stacking and grey-ish sludge dripping to the wood almost immediately.
Dabi sighs, long and drawn out. Doesn’t even flinch when Shigaraki screeches in the back of his throat and lunges.
Children. Fucking children.
___
“Everyone has their list, yes?” Compress double-checks, sweeping his gaze over the lot of them as he peels off his mask.
Dabi stares warily down at his own — strings of lights and faux-skulls and gauze and cobwebs and cheap rubber toys. An inordinate amount of candy (but not too much, because discounts begin post-holiday). He raises a hand, leveling a flat look at the magician.
“Yes, Dabi dearest?”
“The fuck is all this for?”
Twice and Toga both gasp, while Shigraki squints at him and Spinner kinda chuffs a laugh, speaking first. “Halloween, man, duh.”
Dabi rolls his eyes. “Well no shit. I mean, we’re putting more work into this than we did kidnapping that kid.”
Shigaraki waves a dismissive hand in the air. “That's because one of those things is obviously more important than the other.”
Children, he bemoans.
//
Their shopping goes mostly without incident.
Key word: mostly.
“Dabi!” Toga screeches, from over the phone that Dabi was regretting ever answering. He’d been perfectly fine and unbothered when he reached their base and deposited his own bags full of shit. “Dabi, we need help!”
He sighs, long and drawn out. “The fuck is happening?”
“We’re gettin’ chased by the cops, man!” Twice calls, clearly out-of-breath.
Dabi squints. “...On foot? For what?”
“Shoplifting! A skeleton!”
“A… real one?”
“You know one of those big plastic ones?”
“Is that the noise I’m hearing?”
“Probably! Is Spinner there to pick us up, or something? Fuck that, we don’t need ‘em! Would kinda be easier to get away with a car!”
Dabi pauses, looking over at the door that Shigaraki and Spinner just entered through. Purses his lips and considers how much he wants Toga and Twices continued presence near him.
“...Nah,” he says slowly. “Not here. Must suck to be you.”
“ Dabi—!”
He promptly ends the call, and just like that it becomes not his problem.
//
Toga and Twice make it back. Whoop-de.
In little less than a few hours, their base is sufficiently covered in an array of decor, from random pumpkins and garish lights all over the place to the actually replaced lightbulbs illuminating every room a deep purple.
It’s also, unfortunately, not very long until another something springs up. Not Toga nor Twice, much to Dabi’s surprise, but instead Shigaraki.
Of course.
Because the League is comprised of fucking children.
“We,” Shigaraki holds his arms wide, the air around them swelling and bating. Dabi almost yawns. “Are going to go trick-or-treating.”
His almost-yawn immediately turns into rolled eyes. Ridiculous, he thinks, as every single one of these feared killers light up and start chiming in with ideas, giggling and chuffing and even Compress is in on it.
Dabi sighs.
“There’s a neighborhood up north that’s the best place to hit up,” he adds, almost lazily, remembering droves of kids and the days after the holiday when everyone agreed which area was the best — but it earns him the giddy looks and wild cheers that he expected.
He rolls his eyes again. Doesn’t squash the stupid fond smile lancing his features.
___
To trick-or-treat, apparently, one must have a costume. Those are the rules. Apparently.
“You should go as Harvey Dent.” Shigaraki offers, scrolling through whatever website he was on, searching for himself with Spinner over his shoulder.
“I should kill you right now,” Dabi deadpans.
Toga coos, clapping her hands onto his shoulders. “ Oooh , what about—”
“ No.”
“C’mon, I only said Endeavor once—”
“I’m never taking suggestions from you ever again.”
//
Spinner approaches him sometime during the morning after, wearing a mildly teasing grin that had frequented his features ever since he found out what a backbone was.
He hands him a red and green striped sweater. “Costume.”
Dabi squints tentatively. Takes the obviously cheap fabric into his hands.
“Don’t worry,” Spinner says. “Your face already fits the part.”
Dabi is going to kill the League before they reach Halloween.
//
hot stuff
dont bother for the next few weeks birdie (10:22pm)
leagues busy (10:22pm)
busy?
so busy you can’t even tell me what with?
:( (delivered)
hot stuff
holiday season (10:22pm)
busy (10:23pm)
holiday? season?
halloween???
got like a big raid planned with the distraction or something? (delivered)
hot stuff
trick or treating (10:23pm)
dabi
ur not serious
the league is not busy trick or treating like a bunch of children (delivered)
hot stuff
dead serious (10:24pm)
take it up with the commission (10:24pm)
were out til discounted candy prices are over (10:25pm)
commission??
dabi. cmon (delivered)
…
dabi? (message failed to send)
DABI (message failed to send)
R U FUCKING KIDDING ME. (message failed to send)
Im going to kill you first when this mission comes to an end mark my fucking words (message failed to send)
//
He doesn’t actually kill the League. Regrettably.
He sure considers it though when Compress fusses over them incessantly before they head out to… raid a bunch of peoples houses. For candy. Because this is what they, the most wanted villain organization in Japan, have decided is the most important thing to do with their time.
“Remember, everyone!” the showman calls. Clad in what Dabi thinks is meant to be a replication of some costume from the Phantom of the Opera. Stolen, painfully cheaply-made skeleton propped up behind him with a policeman's hat on. “Be cautious of any and all razor blades and-or drugs in your candy!”
“Razor blades?” Toga’s eyes widened, smiling.
“Who the fuck is stupid enough to give out their drugs for free here?” Dabi raises an eyebrow.
Compress makes a face at him.
//
Two hours in, their problems become, somehow, worse.
Spinner whacks his arm against Dabi’s chest, making him wheeze slightly as his fist tightens around his own tote. “ Guys,” he hisses.
Shigaraki looks over at him, squinting. “Huh?”
“Heroes.” he points over to, aptly, a group of… dressed adults. Chattering and laughing and potentially drunk, but, upon closer inspection, definitely heroes.
…Present Mic, Midnight, and Dabi thinks Eraserhead. Doesn’t he have a kid now?
Two more heads make their appearance. Purple and a soft blue and — ah, no, there they are. Two kids? Since when did Eraser get two kids?
“...Is that Eraserhead?” Shigaraki mumbles, his interest suddenly seeming very piqued.
Dabi sighs. Loudly.
//
Hell. They have trapped themselves in hell.
“Are you uh— uh…” Eraserhead’s kid, who upon further inspection doubles as that kid from the Shie Hassaiki squints at Toga’s very bloody costume. Dabi isn’t really sure what she’s meant to be. Or if the blood is fake or not. Or if she's being recognized. “A…”
“Vampire!” Toga chimes, and then immediately almost winces. The kid, Eri, Dabi remembers squints a little.
It doesn’t help that she’s perched on a purple-haired teens shoulders, who Dabi recognizes from the Sports Festival. He does his fucking best to tuck his head behind Compress’ shoulders — if anyone is being recognized tonight, it’s him.
…Or Spinner. At his shoulder with the most pained expression Dabi thinks he’s ever seen the poor cosplayer wearing.
The woman, Midnight, laughs a little. Good-natured… probably. “Family trick-or-treating, huh?”
“ Yes,” Shigaraki declares, solemnly. Steps forward a little. “Family. Family trick-or-treating, that’s what we’re doing.”
He thinks he hears Compress swear under his breath. Eri continues staring, with those kid eyes that make Dabi feel like she definitely knows. Twice is shock-still and Dabi doesn’t blame him in the slightest.
Silence drags on. Present Mic — who looks weird with his hair down like that — makes an awkward chuckle in the back of his throat. “Well— uh, nice… stopping! And chatting! Good to see… people in the neighborhood.”
He makes an aborted little hand gesture like trying to leave the conversation. Compress shoves Shigaraki a little harder than strictly necessary and clears his throat. “Of course! We have places to be ourselves, don’t we?”
Shigaraki grumbles. Dabi looks back when they pass them and immediately wants to shrivel up and die when he makes eye contact with that purple kid.
Fucking Shigaraki and his weird fanboying.
//
“So…” Shinsou drags. “That was definitely the League of Villains, right?”
Shouta grits his teeth and tries very, very hard not to think of Dabi and Spinner poorly hiding behind who must’ve been Mister Compress. “ No.”
“I just saw Dabi. He looked at me and everything.”
“No, you didn’t. He did not.”
Hizashi and Nemuri share a look. His husband speaks a little hesitantly, “Should we, like… report that?”
“ No,” Shouta presses his fingertips to his temples. “It is my night off. That was not the League.”
Shinsou squints. Eri hums, without a care in the world, perched on his shoulders. “...Ah. Right. Not the League, I take it back. Definitely not.”
Blessed kid.
//
“Is that…” Spinner breathes, staring a little wondrously at…
A pack of children. Dressed as them.
Staples and dismembered hands and bloody school uniforms and all. One kid has an impressive replication of Compress’ cane, which he immediately uses to whack his fellow children.
Toga coos at her little mini version attempting to stab their friend dressed as Twice with a knife that… does not look fake. Baby Shigaraki is stacked on top of baby Spinner and they look like they’re about to try and shake down a passing teenager.
Little Dabi looks like he’s about to start brawling with another kid dressed as Endeavor.
Dabi could almost cry. Or, bleed, maybe. The youth of today is clearly doing just fine. No hero society brainwashing to be found nor corrected.
//
“Damn,” Dabi swears, picking through the last of his candy with a disinterested flick of his fingers. “No drugs.”
“Or knives!” Toga whines, flopping to the ground. Dabi still can’t tell if the blood on her is fake or not.
“Did anyone else get, uh, church invitations?” Spinner squints at the little folded thing pinched between his fingers.
Twice holds up his own. “Ooh, I did! Nope, no one!”
“Now, remember,” Compress flourishes. “Not to eat too much at once, lest you—”
Shigaraki cuts in front of him to beeline straight to Spinner, dumping an entire pack's worth of sour candy in his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. Dabi snorts.
Toga, eventually, drags them all up and demands they finish their marathoning from the days prior, having left off mid-cliffhanger to some egregiously bad remake of a pre-quirk era film. Fingers sticky, makeup tacky and cheap costumes chafing, they all pile up onto the couch — Dabi doesn’t even try to take the loveseat this time.
Sits and feels a little warm.
Thinks that maybe this isn’t so bad.