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Dabi never really knows what to expect from his days.
Being with the League of Villains has brought an unpredictable spin to his comfortable street life. Gone were his times of wandering the streets for hours, loitering at Internet cafes and swiping cards from a granny when he got bored. Instead, his days were spent with people. It’s repulsive, he knows.
Depending on the day, he may wake up to his blankets being ripped off (courtesy of Compress), a somewhat grown man shouting at him (courtesy of Shigaraki), or a grown lizard man muttering so quietly Dabi can’t tell if he’s really there, and gets spooked awake by a silhouette staring down at him from his bedside…
One gets the idea. That said, while being around people certainly made it hard to lay around and do mostly nothing all day, it also made him realize that socializing may not be as bad for him as he wants to say it is. He’s not by any means suddenly cured of all of his ailments, but it’s also definitely a bit easier to crawl out of bed when he’s promised to have allies waiting for him to do one thing or another, or even just say good morning to him.
(It’s nice, he’ll admit to himself on weak days, to know that sometimes his presence is actually desired.)
So, yeah. His days have been something entirely new with the League. He can handle it most of the time. He can handle it, period. It’s just that sometimes he isn’t prepared for what it throws at him. Especially when it’s something he hasn’t had to handle in a very, very long time. Since he last had a home and family kind of “long time.”
Like right now, for instance.
“Hey, crazy.” Dabi calls, eyes shifting uncomfortably.
The blonde teenager is leaning over the back of the couch with a smile. She’s watching Spinner totally beat Shiggy’s ass in Mortal Kombat. It should be surprising, but when one takes into account the fact their boss can’t quite grip the controller right because he refuses to wear the gloves Kurogiri insists on buying, even being a game-obsessed hermit can’t save Shigaraki’s high score credibility.
Toga may just be betting on how long it’ll take for that controller to get dusted, but she’s undoubtedly having a good time. For once, Dabi loathes to be the bearer of bad news.
Toga turns her head just barely to look at him. “I tell you all the time, Dabi! Call me Himi-chan! I’ll even settle for Himiko, you know.” She throws a pout in at the end of her whining. It tempts Dabi to back off, just out of spite, but he talks himself down quickly. She’s a teenage girl, don’t let her win. As funny as humiliating his coworkers can be, this is just a line he wouldn’t really care to cross with an unsuspecting child.
This being the dark red stain on Toga’s skirt. She must not feel it, too engrossed in the task at hand, but if he squints (which he chooses not to do), he’s sure the mark at the bottom of his vision is a small, slow trickle of blood on her inner thigh.
She’s quiet and staring unblinkingly, clueing him to keep talking. Dabi is almost as blunt as he wants to be. But one glance around the room has him denying his urges again. Again, the point is to not embarrass her.
“Follow me,” he opts for instead, tipping his head toward the door.
Toga puffs out her cheeks and frowns as she thinks it over for a second.
“…Okay, but you better have something really really fun planned! No work! Or else I’ll paint you red.”
Well, actually, she’s the one being painted red.
Coughing a little to ignore the awkward irony of that sentence, Dabi grumbles. “Yeah, yeah, it’s not about that. Just hurry up.”
Toga leaps off the back of the couch with a sharp grin, clapping her hands together. “Okay! Dabi won’t disappoint me!”
She’s way too happy about this. Whatever. She should know better than to believe he has something fun planned.
Despite having no idea where she’s going, Toga skips ahead to the doorway. Dabi scrambles, hurrying to match her pace. She gives him a curious look when she notices how closely he’s following, as opposed to how he would typically lag behind, but Dabi is a man on a mission who’s not accepting questions.
He is standing as uncomfortably close to her as he can. His hands are in his pockets and lifted to splay his coat wide, doing what he can to block the blood stain from the view of anyone else in the room.
Compress, at the bar, pauses his card shuffling to stare at Dabi with what must be a look of judgement. Dabi stares back at the featureless mask with dead eyes. Compress can be as confused as he wants. This ain’t about him.
It’s only when they’re in the hall and completely hidden from sight that he drops his hands and slows down a bit. Toga chooses to interpret this as an invitation to open her mouth. As she does with most things.
“Where is Dabi-kun taking me?” She sings, shifting on her toes and walking backwards to talk to him.
“Go to your room. Grab some new clothes.”
Toga frowns. “What? Why? But I love my sweater! And my skirt! It’s so cute, Dabi-kun, did you take me out here just to tell me you don’t like them? You’re so mean!”
After a second of deliberation (read: a long pause in conversation, to Toga,) she gasps and her eyes light up.
“Or is Dabi-kun taking me out? Are we shopping? Should I put my city clothes on? I’ll be super quick! I have the prettiest—”
“Stop blabbering. We’re not going anywhere.” Dabi growls. She deflates. He continues, “You just need to change your clothes. You bled through them.”
Toga snaps upright.
“What?!” She squawks, stopping completely to whip her head around and peek at her backside. When her fears are confirmed true she looks fit to burst into tears.
“Wah! My skirt! Oh no, and I’m wearing my cute panties too! Already? Isn’t it early?” She flushes red, though it seems to be more out of anger than any place of embarrassment. She turns her glare from her clothes to the man in front of her. “You knew?”
Dabi scoffs. “That’s why I brought you here, crazy. Yes, I fucking knew. Why else would I say it?”
“For how long?” Toga whines, waving her arms in the air. Her sleeves are clenched in her hands with white knuckled grip.
Unbidden, from some fucked up place buried deep in his heart, Dabi’s attitude softens just a bit. “Not long. I just noticed, and no one else saw anyways.” He assures her.
Toga’s glassy eyes search his face for a second. Then she rocks back on her heels and her shoulders relax. She turns back around and starts walking again, but now with her hands folded behind her back in an attempt to cover the blood.
Dabi hates having feelings.
Toga jumps when burnt hands suddenly set a heavy jacket on her shoulders. She has to hunch her shoulders to keep it from sliding off, and it drags on the floor, but it’s long enough to cover her completely.
Toga looks at him. Dabi will never know how, though, because he’s resolutely facing the wall as he walks, unwilling to see whatever expression she’s wearing. After a minute of silence, Dabi hears fabric rustle as the girl beside him grabs the coat lapel, wrapping it around her tighter. Dabi dares to glance at her.
She is smiling.
Himiko does her best to sort through her dresser rather than throw the clothes everywhere in her impatience. Now that she’s aware, she can’t stop noticing the feeling of blood between her legs. It’s uncomfortable! Which is an understatement, really.
She can’t believe she didn’t notice. She would usually have noticed aches and cramps before she bled so much. She’s so so lucky Dabi was nice about it, as weird as it is to say that about anything he does. Normally he’s so stuck up! That makes it a little cuter each time he does something like this, though.
She cards through the drawer quickly. Nothing is really folded. Sako gave up on getting her to do that a long long time ago. As hard as it is to find her clothes in here, it’s a privilege to have a whole dresser. Not one she takes for granted, of course. She and Tomura are the only ones who have one. Her brothers like spoiling her a little bit and she can’t complain. She could live without a dresser, but it’s definitely an upgrade she’ll reluctantly admit she missed.
Kurogiri also said it had something to do with privacy, which she doesn’t get completely yet. She’s so used to doing anything she needs to that she kind of forgets that the adult men can be a bit bashful about silly things like her underwear laying around the room for anyone to see, or her nudity when she uses her quirk, or even the fact they don’t like going in her room at all because it’s a “personal space.”
It feels like a luxury. Compared to everything else happening, it just feels so trivial. She doesn’t mind those things anyway, but she’s a little scared to get used to it and re-learn it all. She might lose it again at any time.
Nope, that won’t happen. Tomura and her friends won’t fail! Let’s push away that scary thought.
Himiko snags a pair of red panties with a little bow on them. They’re a bit closer to briefs or shorts than she’s used to, but that’s what makes them her favorite period pair!
She crouches to grab a new skirt from the bottom drawer, but immediately snaps back up when the movement reminds her of the blood under her clothes.
Ew. That’s no fun. Preparing to bend completely at the waist this time around, Dabi catches her attention by clearing his throat.
“Do you want help, or…?”
Himiko beams, bouncing foot to foot. Dabi is so sweet right now! She should get her period more often if it means he treats her so well… actually, she’s not so sure that’d be worth it. But it’s a good idea!
She points at the bottom drawer in the middle. Dabi shuffles past the doorway with no small amount of awkwardness, kneeling down and pulling the unstable drawer handle toward him.
“That one! That pink one with the ruffles!” She demands.
Dabi raises an eyebrow, picking up the skirt and inspecting it. “How about some pants instead, crazy?”
Himiko puffs her cheeks out. So he asks to help and then just refuses to grab what she asks for? Oh, that jerk!
“Hey,” Dabi says monotonously, “Don’t give me that face. You have… cute pants, too. Otherwise you wouldn’t keep ‘em.” He cautiously reaches to the drawer to the right, pulling it open a crack. After a peek inside he pulls it open further. Her pajama drawer.
“Take a, I don’t fuckin’ know, lazy day. Do a frilly little face mask and paint your damn nails or something.” Dabi pulls out a pair of fluffy pajama pants she often saves for movie nights. They're a bit long on her, the legs dragging on the floor, but she likes tying the pink ribbon tight around her waist and letting them. The pants are black with little pink and yellow polka dots on them.
They’re adorable.
Himiko bites her lip and harrumphs, crossing her arms and looking away. Just because Dabi is right doesn’t mean she’ll give him the satisfaction.
Dabi places the pants in her arms. Okay, maybe she can entertain him just once.
Dabi apparently isn’t done talking. “When you’re done, give me the clothes.”
Himiko bristles and wrinkles her nose. Is he serious? “But they’re gross.”
“I’m going to wash them, crazy.”
“Oh!” Himiko grins. “You sure? It doesn’t wash off the same way yummy blood does, silly Dabi-kun.” Panties are a delicate fabric, more often than not, and you can’t just bleach them.
“I know that,” he drawls, lifting an eyebrow.
Himiko blinks. She doesn’t really know what to think of that. She’s not going to look the gift horse in the mouth, though, because she really wants to change instead of standing here longer.
“Okay! If you say so!” She says, before scurrying off to the bathroom down the hall.
It doesn’t take long to clean herself off and put on the new pajamas, along with a pad, obviously. But she stares at the bloody clothes in her hand with a frown. Dabi is being really, really nice to her. As much as Himiko likes blood, this is a different kind that isn’t really as appealing. Dabi hardly even likes normal blood. She doesn’t want to just give him her period blood clothes. She doesn’t want him to be grossed out. He’s been so cool about it.
She hesitantly takes some toilet paper to dab up the excess for him, tossing it in the toilet before she flushes it. She runs the cold tap water over her clothes, too, doing her best to scrub a little bit off before washing her hands.
She towels off and hopes that she did good enough.
Wrapping the panties in the decidedly less bloody skirt, she shuffles out of the bathroom sheepishly.
Dabi is waiting outside, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. Looks like the news or something. She doesn’t really care. He turns to her with a look and she toes the floor nervously before holding out the bundle of clothes. She keeps eye contact, but she can’t help doing so through her bangs instead of with her chin up.
Dabi takes it without even a change in expression. “Cool. Now go play.”
Himiko hesitates. “…Thank you,” she mumbles.
Dabi suddenly looks absolutely floored. She’s never seen him so blank and baffled. It’s actually very funny. Enough for her to gather the courage to keep talking.
“I can’t really predict it. Giri says it’s ’cuz of my inconsistent diet or something. Thanks for, um, being cool about it. Really cool. Dabi-kun.”
Himiko folds her fingers together, squeezing her knuckles a few times as she waits for a response. Maybe she should go, she wonders. It’s a well known fact he’s not really the emotions guy. Though, even if she can have some funny manners, she would still feel bad if she left without saying thanks right now.
After a pause, the scarred man sighs and pockets his phone, using his now free hand to run a finger over a staple in his face. A tic he has. “I take it back. I’m going to town. No, not you. Don’t get excited.”
Himiko frowns.
“But I am going. I’ll come back. When I do, you're coming with me up to the roof.”
Himiko beams.
“Yes, Dabi-kun! Thanks! You’re the cutest!” She squeals, throwing herself at him. Dabi grunts in shock, holding the skirt bundle away from their bodies and fumbling to push her away. She lets go before he can.
She turns and runs back down the hall. The sooner she goes back to the living room, the sooner Dabi will leave, and the sooner Himiko gets to hang out with him.
Himiko doesn’t explain herself to Sako when he looks at her in confusion, coming back with new clothes and no Dabi.
She chooses to go back to the television, where Jin is waiting for her now.
“Himi-Chan! Oh God, not you!”
“Hello Jin-kun!” She beams at her friend. Jin waves excitedly from his spot on the floor, dangerously close to Tomura.
She considers taking her place back on the rear end of the couch, but Jin taps the place beside him with such adorable enthusiasm she can’t say no to him.
Himiko skips over and drops down next to him.
She can’t wait to hang out with Dabi!
Dabi is slowly regretting his decision.
Turning over the miniature medicine bottle in his hand, he scowls at it. He walks out of the store with it in plain sight. No one tries to stop him. He’s now spent a good amount of time out on the town. The thought of spending even more of his time with people sounds as repulsive as it ever has.
But he promised Toga. Sort of. Not really. If this were any other person, he’d be under no moral obligation to follow through with his word. On the contrary, he’d probably cancel just out of spite for the fact he made a plan with someone. But this is Toga. The little girl of the League who is currently hormonal and probably not used to getting any help with her periods, considering the age at which she left home and how simple minded her parents were. Maybe she had once or twice in the past despite that, but that doesn’t change that she’d been on her own for years after.
Honestly, the health implications of a little girl handling that stuff on her own with no stable home is worrying to him.
Which leads him here.
He groans and shoves his face into his hands. He can do this. He totally can. What’s a teenage girl against a grown man like himself? He shouldn’t be intimidated by this. In fact, he isn’t intimidated at all. Why would he be? Dabi squares his shoulders and enters the League’s building. He forces his feet to the common room, the bar.
…no Toga.
Dabi looks around. Spinner is still here, along with Compress and Kurogiri. He scowls and turns to the latter.
“Where’s the brat?” He grumbles. He doesn’t like snapping at the person keeping them all together and sane, but Dabi is a little curt right now and snaps at everyone else anyways.
The misty man (thing?) behind the counter pauses his light conversation with the magician. “Tomura is in his room with Jin, who apparently had something very cool to show him Minecraft.”
Dabi raises an eyebrow. “What? I don’t give a shit about him. I asked where the blood sucker is.”
Kurogiri tilts his head (how does he do that?? Dabi has so many questions about this guy), “Ah. You meant that one. My apologies. Himiko went up to the roof some time ago. To wait for you, she said. I thought she was going to pull a practical joke. I stand corrected.”
Dabi scoffs. He can’t fault the man; he’s definitely not one to initiate hang-outs or whatever.
He doesn’t offer Kurogiri, nor Compress’ prying eyes an explanation. He simply leaves.
He makes it to the roof in record time. True to word, Toga really is waiting for him. What shocks him, though it honestly shouldn’t considering he planned for it, is that she’s curled over in pain. She’s lying on her side, holding her stomach weakly with her head tucked in and her legs underneath her. She is still wearing his coat that he never thought to take back from her.
Honestly, it disturbs him to see her looking so hurt. That image might appear in his nightmares soon, with different context.
“Hey,” he calls, and he curses himself immediately for how softly it comes out. He decides he can excuse it, though, when Toga is so unwell that she doesn’t offer a response. Dabi shuffles forward. He sits beside her, near the ledge but not quite on it. She makes an almost inaudible noise of pain.
“Chin up. Just for a second, I promise. I got you something.” Dabi offers.
It takes a few seconds, which is startlingly lethargic for her, before she pushes herself onto her elbows.
He rifles through the plastic bag beside him and holds out a pink box of EVE. “I bought you some. I can open it if you want.”
Toga doesn’t respond. She does pout. It seems more pointed to her misery and pain than himself though. Reluctantly, she reaches out a hand. It shakes. Only lightly, and he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t watching for it, but he sees it.
Dabi pulls his hand back and opens the box, starting to peel the stupid foil back from the circular pills. “I got you some other shit too or whatever, but I’ll wait I guess.”
He drops the pills into her hand. Then he pulls a bottle from the bag, unscrewing the cap and holding it out, waiting. Her favorite juice, according to her two weeks ago. He hopes that it was an accurate statement and not her exaggerating like she does with everything.
Resilient as ever, Toga is able to perk up slightly at the promise of pain relief and a little treat. At least she’s more optimistic than Dabi is. This would be way more awkward for him if he had to give her a pep talk.
They lie still for about 15 minutes, waiting for the pain medication to kick in. When it does, Toga doesn’t quite sit up, but she uncurls slightly and pulls herself closer to Dabi to flop over again, limp, with her head on his lap. Which… ew, affection, but he’ll just gag in his head instead of out loud. He’s a little notorious for random pats and ruffles, so if Toga is taking advantage of that, he can only blame himself.
“Hey Dabi?” She says. She’s staring down at the city below, empty as it is. He hums.
“Thanks again for being so cool about all this.”
Dabi shoots a sideways glance at her and startles to see her suddenly making eye contact. He swallows. “Uh… yeah. Whatever. I don’t see why I wouldn’t be.”
Toga pouts. “Tomura isn’t.”
Dabi thinks carefully about his next words.
Shigaraki’s weird hermit tendencies aren’t a secret to him. Though he’s sure the boss wouldn’t appreciate it, Kurogiri has once or twice apologized for a few especially ignorant or snappy statements, reminding everyone that he was not raised the way they were. Not by a family, or by himself, but by whoever the hell Sensei is. Even then, Kurogiri was the one actually present as Tomura grew up solely inside the walls of this very place. Dabi suspects Kurogiri would’ve done a much better job at raising Tomura with some emotional intelligence if not for that freaky Sensei-Master guy.
How depressing. Honestly, Dabi wouldn’t be shocked if Shigaraki didn’t even know most women get periods until Toga. It’s kind of weird to think about. But he’s not exactly following the guy for his knowledge of the opposite sex.
“Shig is a little special,” he says awkwardly.
Toga snorts.
“Shut up,” he grunts, failing to hide his own smirk. “I meant—you’re the only girl he’s ever known, save for Big Sis. And Magne doesn’t really get ‘em.”
Toga sighs, a little disheartened. She technically has a kindred spirit, but she and Magne have very different definitions of “feminine problems.”
Dabi nudges Toga’s chin up with his knuckle. “The point is, crazy, that Shig is just a useless guy. He might think periods are weird and gross right now, but he doesn’t think you’re weird and gross for having them. You know that. Right?”
Toga shifts upright, opting to lean on Dabi’s shoulder instead of his lap. “Yeah,” she says. Her tone is confident now. The way it should always be. “Yeah, I do. Course I do. Tomura’s just a weirdo sometimes.”
Dabi nods. He’s satisfied with that answer. So he empties the plastic bag he brought out onto the ground behind them. Toga glances back and gasps. “You got me bloody taiyaki!”
A home recipe of Toga’s. A shaped treat typically filled with bean paste. And, well. It is. But also with a little something else. “Filled ‘em myself,” he adds stupidly, because apparently his brain takes pride in the fact a few creeps went missing tonight.
Toga beams at him. He actually has to cringe away from her smile; it's so bright in the dark evening. He might have burned his retinas on top of everything else.
“Dabi-nii! You’re the awesomest! The best!” She squeals and throws herself onto him with a hug so ferocious he tips over. The warmth and deceptive fragility of her body has some place in his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. Surely it broke when he hit the rooftop. She’s so young. He doesn’t give a shit about kids, but God, she shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have to go through her shitty period with a grown man who has a kill count and carries the scents of cigarettes and death.
Dabi dares to set an arm around her back as she sits up to grab her snacks. Of course, then her eyes locked on the last few surprises that had been waiting for her in the bag. They clink as they roll with the right breeze, glass and glitter sparkling just like Toga’s grin under the moon.
“Nail paint!” She exclaims, incredulous.
“Nail polish,” the scarred man corrects. “I—j—uh…” why is he stuttering? Dabi does not stutter. He does not get bashful or embarrassed. “I figured we could, I dunno, use it.”
Smooth.
The painful delivery proves worth it. Toga looks fit to cry. Oh. Oh shit. She is crying.
“Oh fuck.”
Toga is crying unabashedly and loudly, wiping her eyes with her sweater sleeves as she wails.
“Hey, I’m sorry, I—oh my shit, what the fuck, why—“
“Dabi-nii is so nice!” She sobs. Her mascara is streaming down her round cheeks.
Which, huh. Yeah. He could never in a million years get used to that. He will ignore the strange cold chill that swept over his spine at nii.
It is abruptly but quite belatedly that Dabi remembers she is very hormonal. It’s the first day of her cycle. Which means to her emotions (and also compared to Dabi’s typical behavior,) he just totally love-bombed her. Awesome. Of course she’s crying.
“Um… shut the fuck up?” There. Balance it out with some edginess.
Toga’s crying quickly dissolves into sniffling. She rubs at her nose with her sweater, the fabric irritating the skin above her lip and leaving a slight redness that matches her blotchy face. She nods, affirming. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s better. Thanks.”
Over as quickly as it started then. Okay.
“So, uh,” Dabi sets his hands in his lap to keep him from fiddling with his fingers like a child. His foot taps rapidly where he’s sitting. “Nails?”
Toga nods excitedly. “Yep! Nails! You first.”
“I figured.” It would just be too kind if he got away without having his nails done too (even though he totally just implied that he was willing to do it, and Toga is nothing if not an opportunist). It would be too kind if he had any sort of defense against sad little sisters.
Woah. Sorry, what the fuck was that last part?
“Dabi-kun, your nails! Hold up your hands!” Toga barks with all the command of a sergeant major. Scary little twerp. Dabi grumbles and shifts onto his knees, then onto his stomach, because no way is he hunching over to do this nor letting his hands hang until they’re numb. The roof is cold, with just one of his ratty old band shirts between it and Dabi’s stomach, but not unbearably so this early into the season. He wiggles a little bit like the undignified snake he is in an attempt to lessen the pressure on the staples in his midriff.
His hands are laid in front of him, palms down. “We’re ready for you, doc,” he says flatly.
“Paint,” Toga says clinically, holding out her hand.
Dabi stretches to reach the bag of nail polish definitely closer to her than him, obligingly setting the bottle in her hand with an unimpressed flower. “Polish,” he corrects.
When he goes limp again she immediately puts the bottle in her mouth. He cringes at the sound of her teeth grating against the cap, but he understands and bears it with a grimace. Those bottles are sealed better than some buildings Dabi’s broken into. Seriously. Do they manufacture those things with cement to glue them shut?
Toga follows his example and lays on her stomach as well. She hisses a good deal about how it hurts her chest before Dabi calmly suggests she lay with his coat under her. She happily acquiesces. With her arms folded and propped up on his bunched jacket, she lazily pulls the brush from the opened nail polish.
The polish is cold on his nails. The wet pigment sends a dismissible chill over his fingers each time the wind breezes past. “Watch it,” he growls when she haphazardly swipes the paint over his skin. She mutters sorry but it’s so unrepentant that not even Twice would buy it. She’s so lucky he doesn’t hate her. He could toast her right here and now.
Evidently, he is a weak little bitch, because he doesn’t toast her. Not even lightly. Instead, he lies there as a teenage girl attacks him with nail polish.
He’s not too sappy. The moment he notices she’s perking up and in considerably less pain, Dabi snatches his painted hands back, as well as his coat.
“Hey!” Toga whines. “I wanted to do another layer!”
“Suck it up,” he grumbles. “I’m goin’ inside for a drink. Paint the gravel, or something.”
Toga scurries to follow him, shoving things haphazardly back into the grocery bag he brought up here. “If Dabi wants to be a total party-pooper, then he doesn’t deserve another layer anyway,” she snarks, pouting.
It’s annoying. It’s so, so annoying.
Dabi sets a hand on her head, but catches himself before he ruffles her hair. He reroutes.
“Ack!” Toga cries out as he shoves her head away from him with a little too much force, making her stumble.
“I did my due diligence,” Dabi grits through his teeth. He disappears around the corner with a wave. “Catch you later, Crazy.”