Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Touya-nii.”

“No.”

Shouto blinks, wrongfooted at Dabi’s instinctive clapback. Poor awkward Peppermint, still lost to most social cues despite all the extroverts in this class. Doesn’t stop him from his task, though, like a good stubborn hero-in-training. “The marks on your neck and arm…”

Of course, he’d ask about that, but ugh, why?

Stupid birdie sunk his teeth in deep, so it is taking a while to heal, and the League doesn’t have an on-call doctor, definitely not one that wouldn’t ask invasive questions. 

While Dabi made sure to wear a high-neck sweater or a scarf in public – not that it stopped the teasing from his band of morons – but today, he’d foregone them entirely. He hadn’t expected to run into anybody, after all, with him sneaking into the Todoroki manor to pilfer some food. The eldest and youngest Todorokis barely cross paths with each other with Shouto’s school and internship and Dabi’s work. It’s not to the extent back when he was actively avoiding Endeavor’s masterpiece, both by the flaming asshole’s design and for his mental health, but their meeting is still quite infrequent. 

To his misfortune, his baby brother has inherited their old man’s persistence plus nosiness from that crazy broccoli’s, All Might’s walking bone-cracking protégé, influence. 

Are normal greetings just chopped liver to this newer generation?

No hi, how’s the weather, okay, bye anymore. 

Nope. 

It’s an instant I think you’re in trouble, and I will save you.

Dabi grimaces at the mismatched stare burning into his side profile. 

No dodging this, then. 

Sighing, Dabi says. “Got mauled by a feral animal. Make sure you get all your vaccinations, okay? Your fancy U.A. should at least do their best to prepare you for the real world.” 

With all serious sincerity, Shouto nods. “I’ll tell Recovery Girl. What kind of animal was it? She can prioritize medication if she knows the baseline animal.” 

“Bird.” He deadpans. “Giant red bird.” 

“As big as Dark Shadow?” Shouto’s bird-head classmate’s quirk, if Dabi recalls correctly. 

“No, but my birdie’s got fangs and sharp claws. Drools a lot, too.” 

Shouto’s eyes widen at that. “Are you alright then, Touya-nii? You were bitten…” His eyes trace Dabi’s bruised neck and slip of shoulder, peeking out of his low-cut shirt, ending at the very detailed bitemark at his forearm. “... a lot.”

What an understatement. It’s very on-brand with his baby brother to point out the obvious and be so obliviously ugh… cute. Dabi reluctantly admits that; well, as cute as a gross teenager can be. Who else would play along with Dabi’s mischief for this long? 

Dabi wants to laugh but manages to keep his straight face. “I got immunity to it.”

“I see.” The slow exhale is Shouto’s version of a relieved sigh. 

The genuine concern makes Dabi wrinkle his nose. Way to make an asshole feel bad. 

“Would you be willing to provide a blood sample for Recovery Girl? With your immunity, an antidote can be made faster if the feral animal attacks others.” 

“Fuck no.” Dabi’s trolling ends at fucking needles. Or, well, it almost ends. “You’ll be fine, Shou. The hero community’s already aware of it.” Like through all those HPSC-issued wanted posters. “Also, it doesn’t attack kids.” Hawks is good like that.

Shouto frowns, obviously wanting to push for more information but hesitant about upsetting Dabi and potentially triggering another teenage angst-fueled rebellion as if he has an Amber alert reserved with his name in the future, which, in his professional opinion, is absolutely ridiculous. He’s a whole-ass adult, a full-time underground hero with a paycheck; he can’t technically be classified as a runaway anymore, even if he takes an extended off-the-grid me-time to recover from his annoying family or coworkers. 

This situation isn’t anywhere close to pushing that, though; just some fun messing with Shouto. 

(It took the HPSC’s nightmarish training, Hawks’ sudden disappearance, and a disastrous work-study mission with Endeavor bringing in his unnecessary opinions in the aftermath for that last and only time to happen.)

(He was only gone for a week, anyway.)

(An unfortunate meeting with a hyper-focused Shiggy, newly warded and wanting his own hero team, ended his rebellion far too quickly. If only Dabi could scrub it from his memories, the endless tantrums of “I want you, I want you, why are you refusing, no no no, you can’t be emancipated, go home, you bastard, do you know the paperwork to have an emancipated minor on my team –” )

As such, he reaches out to roughly run his fingers through Shouto’s hair. Ruffling it until it’s a tangled mess of red and white, Shouto takes it with all the grace of a touch-starved kid. Confused, pleased, a bit annoyed, and not at all stepping away from the affectionate gesture. 

“I’m just messing with you, Peppermint.” Pulling his hand back to show the bite mark on his forearm, Dabi huffs. “These things are because I’m seeing someone.” 

Shouto stares blankly. 

Dabi can just hear the questions tumbling within that smart knucklehead. How does ‘seeing someone’ cause these marks? ‘Seeing’ just implies seeing and not touching. The feral animal, the giant red bird, is a person? A mutant with fangs and claws? What drool, then, why’d Touya-nii mention drooling? Was the bird person hungry? Is that why they were taking chunks of him – ?

“We’re fucking,” says Dabi. 

His baby brother’s reaction is a damn treat. Shouto blanches, his fair skin paling in an instant as sparks burst across his left arm. Thank goodness their family home is fireproof.

Dabi chuckles. “Ask Natsu about it. He’ll give the proper birds and bees talk, better than Yumi-chan, at least.” 

That’s total bullshit. Fuyumi can dumb down even math to her elementary students, but what’s an eldest brother supposed to do? Not mess with his little brother while somehow throwing the other under the bus? Hell nah. He can practically taste the hilarity of his words if come to fruition. 

“No, thank you.” Shouto wheezes out. “I know enough.”

Dabi coos, looming over Shouto who’s hurriedly flicking his eyes around for an escape, his every nerve bursting with desire to flee from Dabi and this entire conversation. Which is, oooh, a bad move. Never show weakness to a League member, blood to unhinged sharks, and all that, y’know? “You sure, kiddo? It’s educational and would definitely help with your pining after that Midoriya kid. What? It’s been, like, half a year already since you met, and you can’t even get to second base? An experienced boyfriend is a good boyfriend –”

“We’re not even dating,” Shouto stresses.

“Of course, y’all aren’t if you’re gonna be a pussy about it.” Dabi shakes his head, grin stretching. “You want some advice? Midoriya’s such a good little hero. He likes taking care of people. Understand, Shou? Just say you got hit with a quirk that forces constant skin-on-skin contact, or else horrible things will happen to you. Say that it’ll be quicker to cure while fully naked and –”

“I’m not going to lie to Midoriya –”

“– make sure to take out your little Shou-chan while you’re at it. Y’know what I mean, right?”

“What? No, I don’t. What does that have to do with anything?” Shouto swallows, curious despite his discomfort. “Does it… help with getting a date?”

Ha.

Dabi knew there was love brewing in the air.

The suspension bridge effect is ingrained in the hero community; celebrity news eats that shit up daily, and Shouto’s class has unfortunately gotten similar and more experience with that than some pro heroes.

“Oh, Shou. It matters. Dating isn’t just the nice and cute emotional connection and ease of talking with your boyfriend. You think that’s all relationships are?” A dramatic pause. “Sex, Shou. You need to check if you’re compatible that way too, and that starts with comparing dick sizes.”

“Touya-nii, no –”

“If you hadn’t gone to those uptight private schools before U.A., you’d have seen at least a few dicks other than your own. Natsu did, and look at him. He’s all the better socialized because of it, but alas –”

“I don’t want to see anyone’s private parts –”

“Dating is a big commitment. Plan your outlooks and interview your prospective boyfriend in both mind and body, so see if Midoriya likes the look of your little Shou-chan. You, too, with the little broccoli’s weenie. You should also be prepared for switching between all kinds of positions. I won’t judge. The green brat’s shorter but way stronger than you, so check if he’s a shower or a grower. It’ll help your ass in the long run –”

“I refuse.” Shouto whisper-screams, foregoing all subtleness and turning on his heels, and bolts from the room.

Dabi barks out in wild laughter, clutching his cramping sides, once Shouto turns a corner and is out of sight. 

Well, well, what do you know? A conversation between them without any trauma bonding is possible. Fuyumi would be so proud.

A well-worthed trip home, he acquiesces. He only came to raid the fridge and pantry, purposely during peak Endeavor weekend patrol hours, and make away with Fuyumi’s cookies before Natsuo. With this soaring mood, he’ll even liberate some office supplies from Endeavor’s office for his band of morons. Shiggy has been chewing through quite several pens in his research, after all.

Chapter Text

There’s a breath between Dabi answering his phone and Natsuo’s ear-piercing shriek. “Why the hell did you tell Shouto to ask me about gay sex?!”

Snapping his phone away, he glances that no, it’s not on speaker and what the fuck did Natsuo just say? 

“What the fuck?”

“What the fuck you? What the fuck me! I just ran from the most awkward conversation of Shouto-esque conversations. I already don’t visit often but now imma second guess coming if I’m gonna get ambushed by that kinda crap! Yumi-nee’s gonna be so disappointed, and it’ll all be because of you!”

Like he’s not already missing most of the family dinners with some flimsy schoolwork or his girlfriend’s volleyball tournament excuses. A girlfriend that none of the family has met yet. The amount of time and effort – grinding, Dabi hears in Shiggy’s voice because the man-child has finally started haunting his inner thoughts – Natsuo has spent on this still-potentially-imaginative girlfriend can rival his infamous anti-fan Endeavor reputation on social media.

If he starts using Shouto’s weirdness as another excuse, it’ll be a blue moon when they’re able to get together. Shouto being fucking weird is practically a personality trait, a natural product of growing up under Endeavor’s loving care (full sarcasm).

Dabi tells Natsuo as much.

“Shut up,” his darling little brother, his number one supporter growing up, hisses. “You, of all people, don’t get to lecture me on this. You’re still statistically the least likely to show up, and Shouto’s required to fill out a permission slip and have a teacher escort just to leave U.A.’s campus. That makes you worse than red tape bullcrap!”

“I’m a working adult, asshole. Y’know that criminals never sleep.”

“You’re the vice leader of your team. Why the fuck aren’t you in charge of your own schedule?”

That’s because Shiggy is a controlling, obsessive freak who hates his team but hates it more when they’re not within his sights. Instead of opening that can of worms, Dabi says. “Stop swearing, you’re a baby.”

“I’m not Shouto!”

“I’ll tell Yumi-chan. You’ve gone way past your allotted swear jar amount.”

“And I’ll tell Yumi-nee about your new relationship,” counters Natsuo without missing a beat. “A bird mutant, Touya-nii? Seriously? With your quirk and weak body and all that sickness during childhood, you’re going to be hard-pressed to keep up.”

“Shut up. I’m not talking about my sex life with a baby.”

“Oh, but you’ll encourage Shouto to talk to me about sex?! I told you it was horrible! Never again! Or else I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

Dabi snickers, pleased and amused. So his words did come to fruition, and it is as glorious as he expected. 

Fuyumi at least meets Shouto every time he returns home. It’s less likely now that U.A. has first-year dorms, but weekends and holidays are still a good bonding time for them. Even if there’s always a touch of awkwardness, always present between Shouto and the two siblings who never underwent heroic training, Fuyumi has the patience of a saint. If she can handle her gaggle of elementary students, full of pubescent tantrums and untrained quirks, she can handle Shouto. 

Natsuo, on the other hand, doesn’t have the same school schedule as Shouto. His university’s exam season overlaps with Shouto’s holidays, and Natsuo’s time will soon be further occupied by his internship at the hospital. (His little brother wanting to become a doctor due to his experience patching Dabi up as kids and looking into it as a career as a means to stay close to a hero Dabi always causes complicated feelings. He’s never not been fucking proud, though.) 

Aside from lacking similarities in their schooling, they don’t share the same interests. Not the same food preferences. Not games. Not pop culture. A passionate jock could never excite a child, who grew up without television and friends, into sports, and a hero nerd conspiracy theorist could never avoid triggering the No. 1 anti-Endeavor, anti-news, anti-police, and anti-HPSC fan. 

And unlike Fuyumi, Natsuo doesn’t have the patience to dissect Shouto’s awkwardness, his intentions buried under silence and blunt words, and just like Dabi, escalation has always won their battles. 

Hit hard and hit fast. 

Don’t allow the media to spout lies. Never allow Endeavor to hurt them again. 

And Shouto’s sometimes cold and indifferent personality would anger Natsuo, even over small things, like how a news feed reported a crime or a writing assignment on how heroes affect society. It would also sadden Natsuo because he knows why Shouto is like this, then there’s the irritation at their situation, reprised screams of unfairness, circling back to the root of the problem, at Endeavor, and thus it’s still anger that appears in the end. 

Like a genetic joke, one of their family’s ice quirk holders hosts a temper only second to Dabi’s flames. On the other hand, their most balanced quirk holder is the most broken.

As such, if discussions over gay sex finally bring his two brothers together, Dabi will wholeheartedly create opportunities for it. 

Both of them need some TLC, exclusive to each other.

It’s also fucking hilarious.

Because amongst the Todoroki siblings, Natsuo’s the only straightass hetero. He’s got a clear type, too, with it being highly athletic chicks that can kick his ass.

Fuyumi has always been career-focused. It was only in her last year of high school she hinted at a first crush, that being a male classmate, though it wasn’t meant to be, with him moving across Japan for university. Only recently, curiously, it’s a mention of an interaction with Rabbit Hero: Mirko when she did a PR event at her school and with a visibly shy blush that made Dabi realize his sister’s a two-way hitter.

And Dabi… well, he got snatched up early by a possessive bird mutant and couldn’t escape since then.

Considering Shouto’s lacking social norms, it’s very likely he became attached to Midoriya due to the green kid being the first outside his siblings to be kind to him, to challenge him, to encourage his dreams, and to stand up against Endeavor for him. Stupid brat. Stupid brats should’ve called for an adult – like him, he would’ve happily lit up a bitch to defend them – when Endeavor intruded the arena’s waiting rooms to give Shouto his “pep talk.” Like a pitiful red-white stray animal getting attached to the first human that didn’t kick him on sight. 

… Except, Midoriya also sucker punched Shouto during the sports festival, and Shouto flung him into the wall with his ice. To Shouto, that could’ve also been a brotherhood contract right then and there.

Who the hell knows what goes on within that peppermint head?

Whatever, Midoriya is good for Shouto either way.

And Dabi would readily welcome Midoriya into the family as a brother-in-law or Shouto’s sworn brother or hero partner or whatever else. With their relationship inconclusive at the moment, Dabi will take his shot at the first option and act accordingly. Last time they met, Shouto asked him if seeing each other naked would snag him a date, okay? That’s a major milestone! Their awkward baby brother is on the cusp of evolving into a normal teenager.

As such, Dabi is only being a responsible person by assigning a guiding hand for that transition. 

Why must it be Natsuo? Especially considering his experiences are worth jack shit for Shouto to reference ?

Because, again, it’s fucking hilarious.

“C’mon, Natsu, just entertain Shou for a bit.” Dabi coaxes. “Teens should ask about stupid stuff and do some stupid. Isn’t it good that he came to you? He trusts you for some advice, future doctor. Stop him from doing too stupid shit.”

“That… oh.” Natsuo clears his throat, going silent for a bit, inexorably happy at Dabi’s words but unwilling to be too obvious about it. He always enjoys being relied upon but knows quite well the danger of giving Dabi things to tease him about. “I, uh, I didn’t think of it in that way. If that’s the case, fine. I can chat with Shouto.”

“Good,” says Dabi, “and while you’re at it, take him out to a restaurant that doesn’t serve cold soba, will ya? He needs better nutrition, and his damn school’s lunch ladies keep catering to him.”

Natsuo snorts. “Will do, you mother hen.”

“The fuck you call me?”

“Nothing, Touya-nii.” Natsuo sing-songs, his next words tumbling out quickly. “So your new bird mutant fuck buddy. What can you tell me about them? Other than the fact they’re a kinky motherfucker. Seriously? Bite marks all over you? And you show them to Shouto? You’re a horrible influence on the baby. At least, cover them up.” Because alongside first aid, all of the Todorokis are capable in special effects makeup, a learned skill in covering injuries that would’ve only invited more unwanted attention, but like hell Dabi was going to put in that effort when he was just doing a drive-by at-home grocery run. Shouto’s a hero-in-training. Being thrown into sudden, uncomfortable situations is good for him.

Anyway, this is a blatant attempt to move on by his little brother, but as much as Dabi teases Shouto with the sex talk, having it with Natsuo is a huge no-no. 

That kind of talk between Dabi and Shouto? That’s fun. 

Shouto and Natsuo? Fucking hilarious. 

Dabi and Natsuo? Disgusting.  

It must be because a tiny Natsuo, following his school’s sex ed course, actually came to his big brother – the only sane older male figure in his life then, which is fucking pathetic for both boys – for practical examples and, if possible, a hands-on show and tell. The exact details of the deed, committed under the darkest hours, are to be never known. Per that agreement, one of their foremost honored promises between the two is that Dabi’s sex life and Natsuo’s sex life are equal opportunity landmines. On incredibly and destructively disgusting levels. The sentiment must be shared by his little brother. 

Nevertheless, the topic persists because Natsuo is also fueled by petty hatred – “But dude, actually, before you cover them up, you should show Endeavor your marks.” – for their lovely father. “On live TV, too, I wanna see him lose it there.”

Admittedly, Dabi does too. 

Dabi would never put money on the old bastard caring about the wellbeing of his son but most definitely his reputation. The subsequent firefight would at least be fun and appear beautifully on HD. Nobody ever accused fire quirk users of not being adrenaline junkies. 

Hm.

Well, alright, then.

He better secure an interview with the old bastard soon. While blemishes remain on his pale skin longer than the average person, newscasters adhere to red tape slowness, and Endeavor would never accept appearances on the more sensational, celebrity channels. Dabi may even have to… ugh, ask Hawks for a redo. (And no, he’s not excited about that. The tightness in his pants has nothing to do with it.)

Dabi says. “Fine. I’ll text you when I’ve got a schedule.”

Because sharing is caring, and the least Dabi can do is spoil his No. 1 fan. 

“Cool, thanks, bro!” Natsuo cheers. “Anyways, I gotta run. My girlfriend’s practice is about to end, and we’ve got dinner plans.”

Because of course. “You should invite her home sometime. We’re all really curious about her –”

“And have Shouto scare her away with his weirdness and you with your asshole-ness? Like hell, I will!”

Dabi rolls his eyes. Baby steps. He can do baby steps. “Then, have Yumi-chan give her some pointers.” Any details about this girlfriend would be a win, and while Fuyumi will respect Natsuo’s wish for privacy, she can at least check the vibes of this chick for if she’ll be good for their little brother.

“Hrrrm…” Natsuo grumbles, his denial mute because surely even he can see the benefits of easing his girlfriend into their crazy family through their most sane member. “Okay… I guess.”

Dabi raises his hands in a silent hurrah, fucking finally, a real centimeter of an agreement worth a kilo when suddenly Natsuo swerves to the right – “By the way, Yumi-nee found out ‘bout your new dubious relationship, and she’s gonna drop by your place tonight.” – and straight off the cliff.

“What,” Dabi gapes, his composure trembling at Natsuo’s words. Why.

Oh… oh, hell no. 

This is Miss Let’s have a mature conversation about feelings. Miss I tame arrogant brats on the daily to reveal their deepest and darkest secrets.

Fuyumi will have endless questions and concerns over Dabi’s intentions and sanity, and once she finds out he’s fucking a villain, S-class villain Hawks to boot, she’ll turn towards the entire legality of it. Or, worse, she’ll be worried he’s being coerced into this relationship. 

Damn it, no no no. 

He does not need any of that.

“Wait, why the fuck – how,” Dabi growls, coming to a realization. “Did you tell her – ? Like while we are talking, right now?!”

“Nooo, of course not, now, why would I do that?” Comes the fucking obvious lie. “This is totally not revenge for siccing Shouto on me.” Though at least he’s quick to drop the truth, gleeful at Dabi’s dread and anger, Natsuo quickly chirps out a “She’s already on the way. Good luck, bro!” and promptly hangs up.

Dabi still has to curse into the void. “I swear I’ll get you back for this, you fucking bastard!”

Chapter Text

There’s barely a second between the doorbell and Dabi reluctantly opening the door for Fuyumi to discard her heavy tote bag and yank Dabi’s shirt collar down. 

Well, Dabi groans, and there goes the turtleneck shield. He had hurriedly changed his clothes after Natsuo’s call. With the marks out of immediate sight, he hoped for a pleasant older Todoroki siblings’ food prep and dinner time, where Dabi would go ham with his distraction abilities to save him a night of a distraught mothering Fuyumi. 

… Not that his plans could even start.

“Oh my God, Touya-nii,” she gasps, gray eyes wide with worry, as she moves to roll his sleeves away. “This! This is worse than what Shouto and Natsuo said.” And, yup, she’s staring aghast at the bite mark on this forearm. 

“It’s not that bad, Yumi –”

“No no no, we need to talk about this. Are you okay? You can tell me if something’s wrong!”

“There’s nothing wrong.” 

He steps away despite her reaching hands to collect her tote bag. As expected, there are raw ingredients inside. His steps are just a bare below fleeing to the kitchen, but hopefully, the start of a stove around a fire quirk user would distract her. It usually does. 

When they were younger, soon after their mother was hospitalized, Dabi had taken the lead in learning his way around the kitchen as Endeavor’s paranoia and controlling nature heightened such that housekeepers and nannies were no longer allowed around his masterpiece. Someone had to feed Shouto somehow, then. Unfortunately, his first and only runaway had thoroughly upset the authority figure in the kitchen following. Dabi doesn’t mind… that much. (He’s the oldest, okay, he should be the one taking care of them, not the other way around –) Fuyumi is an amazing cook and is meticulous about the nutrients going atop a plate.

She follows on his heels. “Shouto and Natsuo told me they were a bird mutant, but that was it. Are you really dating them? What kind of girlfriend or boyfriend mauls you like this? What if they’re taking advantage of you? There are many stories online of people – of people like you, like us without good role models growing up – who are more susceptible to gaslighting and abuse.” 

Holding back a sigh, Dabi starts unloading items on the counter. Chives. Raw pork. Oh, dumpling skins. She most definitely aimed for an extensive food prep-slash-interrogation. 

Not that it needs any prompting with Fuyumi rolling right on. “Have they lied to you about the damage? Told you that those bite marks don’t actually hurt? Mutants have different teeth than normal people. A normal bite to them is not normal to us. They might even have toxins! Lots of birds are dangerous!”

Dabi has some leftover cabbage and kimchi that could be additional fillings, turning towards the fridge while keeping half an ear on her frenzied ranting.

“I just searched online, like, a few minutes ago. Denial, blatant lying, misdirection, minimizing, and uh – just – making you doubt your own reality. Those are all common tactics of bad people. Abusive partners! They haven’t done that to you, right? You haven’t believed them, right?” Even as she dutifully grabs trays and small cups of water, readying the prep station, she flutters around him. “Are you listening to me? This is serious! Are they older than you, Touya-nii?”

“No,” Dabi says curtly. He’s actually older than Hawks by a few years, though that was a null point with how few trainees the HPSC had then; they all lived and trained together. 

“Are they richer? Have they asked for access to your bank account?”

“No.” Well, on paper. Hawks is an opportunist petty bastard, though; he would have no qualms about hoarding and using dirty money to screw more criminals over.

“What about your house keys? They might put a tracker on that or your phone. That’s how they start trying to control you! First, it’s where you go, then who you meet, then –”

“I haven’t given them anything.” There’s no need. Hawks can break in whenever he wants; locks and windows are meaningless before those OP feathers. “Stop freaking out over nothing, Yumi-chan.”

“But I’m not! We all should be properly worrying and caring about you! Touya-nii, it’s okay to admit if… if you’re scared, okay? I have students with abusive parents who honestly have no place raising a child. They would never approach me about it, but there are obvious signs. Teachers go through extensive training to be able to catch those subtle hints.”

Good for them. 

If Dabi had a teacher like Fuyumi… one who just believed him and cared about his physical and mental decline… They didn’t even need to try to save him. A stupid child like Touya would’ve understood the impossible wall that was Endeavor then maybe he would’ve grown into less of a bitter bastard.

However, “I’m an adult. What does that have anything to do with me?”

“What I’m trying to say is that there are resources. I know lots of anonymous resources… For children and spouses in all kinds of financial and social stances.” She lowers her voice, gentle and coaxing like one would towards a cowering, beaten animal. Which is fucking unnecessary. “Because even heroes need help, and if you haven’t found a safe place to report it –”

“Yumi-chan, no –”

“I can even report it for you.” Grabbing his hand, she raises it to look at him imploringly. “I couldn’t do anything when Father – when he – but – I can do it now.” 

Dabi blinks, thrown.

Oh… Oh, Yumi.  

I can report it for you, she says. Please let me protect you, she means.

He smiles softly, dropping the bag on the counter to wrap his free arm around her. “Sorry, this really freaked you out, huh? I’m fine. Really, I promise.” 

“But…” She starts, their eyes locking and making her pause. 

Somehow, his sincerity must’ve channeled through because the next time she opens her mouth, it’s hesitant yet hopeful. 

“You swear?” She asks.

“On my life.” And there’s no bullshitting that. “I’m happy with him.” Hawks was worth it then and now. “He’s so good to me,” and just to inject a bit of humor. “Like seriously, the birdie practically worships the ground I walk on. It’s kinda pathetic.” 

Finally, the frantic tightness melts from her shoulders. 

In its place, a small smile blooms.

“Oh Touya-nii, don’t be mean.” Amused and cautiously admonishing, “I should’ve known it was you that I should be lecturing on being a good partner.”

Dabi shrugs. He’s an asshole. Hawks is an asshole. There’s nothing fairytale or cheesy about them, like calling them a perfect match or something, but at the very least, they both know exactly what kinda crazy they’re sticking their dicks into.

Patting Fuyumi’s back and returning his focus to the food prep, he finds her steps much lighter beside him as she quickly takes control of portioning the raw ingredients. 

He blessing-ly counts a minute of silence, paved through unsubtle glances from his no longer concerned but now overly curious sister. Stubbornness and persistence make the Todoroki blood, and no matter how meek Fuyumi may seem at first glance, that has allowed her to raise herself into such a stable support system for their mother and, of course, her stupid brothers. As the most level-headed of them, it’s practically her duty to be aware of every single detail of their lives so she could do damage control when they commit more-than-usual stupidity. 

A nice bonus of that, Dabi grouses, is that she can be nosy as fuck.

“So,” she starts faux nonchalantly. “What’s his name?” 

“Kei,” he says. Because Hawks is incriminating, and Takami Keigo is a dead boy’s name, a name that is theirs alone.

When Dabi doesn’t freely disclose more, Fuyumi huffs out. With aggressive pinches to the dumpling skin, “And? Tell me about your Kei-kun.” 

Kei-kun! Ha! Dabi has to withhold a snort. What an unfitting nickname for that un-cute bastard. 

“What does he look like? What does he do?”

“No comment.” Because both of those questions are also fucking incriminating. 

“Touya-nii,” she whines.

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon! Work with me here. I’m not leaving until I get something!” 

As if his telling her anything now wouldn’t instantly spread to the perky ears of their little brothers. If Fuyumi is nosy by familial need, their doctor-in-training and hero-in-training are also that and exponentiated by occupational hazard. Because fuck privacy if it concerns their delinquent of an older brother, right? Dabi’s under no illusions he’ll get the same privacy as Natsuo and his imaginary (still pending) girlfriend. Nope. He’s the only one amongst them that has run away, after all. And was born with a weak constitution. And was constantly hospitalized for burns and a seizure. And has an occupation that requires a living will. 

… Okay, their worries may be warranted. 

If his circumstances were cut and pasted on one of his siblings, he’d be on their ass daily. 

As such, Dabi understands that if he doesn’t reveal something now, a very real future of a white-red head, color ratio of varying degrees, would be stalking him right alongside his most fervent fansites.

Dabi sighs. “Ask something else.”

Fuyumi’s stare bounces off of him until she relents. “Fine. How did you two meet?”

The fucking HPSC and the flaming asshole for sending Dabi to that white-washed hell. “Hero training.”

“Oh,” she perks up at that. “He’s a hero, too?” 

Dabi almost wants to laugh at the sad irony. Hawks could’ve been the best of them all, but “Nah, he’s no fan of them.” 

“Oh, and he’s uh… okay with you being a hero?”

“Of course.” The obsessive birdie would even be okay if Dabi was a villain – wait, no – he’d be fucking elated. He’d call them Hotwings or something stupid for their villain duo name.

“That’s good.” Fuyumi smiles, dropping the first round of dumplings into a heated pan. Heroship is a complicated thing within their family, understandably so, but it’s part of Dabi and soon Shouto’s identity and their gentle sister will always hope that people will readily accept that. “What are your dates usually like?”

“Like fu – uuuh,” Dabi is quick to censor himself. Because in all his hair-brained wisdom, he’d nearly said: like fucking like rabbits. As if that would ever go well. “They’re fun. A bit tiring,” to his mentality, “and sore” to his ass. There. That’s better.

“With your stamina, even a grocery run can be tiring and sore,” she teases. “Does Kei-kun take you anywhere?”

“Yeah.” Dabi has been getting the all-inclusive grand tour of Fukuoka’s dark alleyways and abandoned ports. Thankfully, the villain more than makes up for the miserable views. “Just recently, we were watching the stars from up high together.” Then the bastard threw him off an eighteen-story roof.

Fuyumi squeals at that, so immersed in her joy that Dabi’s sarcasm goes completely over her head. “How romantic!”

It was certainly heart-racing. There should’ve been a lightly toasted chicken for that fuckery, but then Shiggy happened. And then that damn exhausting all-night icebreaker session.

“And you? What do you usually do for Kei-kun in return, Touya-nii?”

Dabi blinks at that. 

He blinks again when a sample dumpling is pressed to his lips, parting automatically. 

Hm. Delicious. There’s enough seasoning mixed in without needing a sauce. Once his mouth is clear because he was a rich brat with hired tutors, he says. “Birdie doesn’t need anything.” 

And ah… what a mistake.

“Touya-nii!” With an offended gasp, Fuyumi jabs the cooking chopsticks at him. “A good relationship is a two-way street. Are you telling me you don’t do anything for him? Have you planned out any of your dates?”

“I text him to meet up.” Dabi stammers out, backing up half a step. Mostly on Shiggy’s orders.

“Nah-uh. Not good enough.”

“He pops up and drags me around, regardless.” 

“That’s not good enough,” Fuyumi repeats, dumping the finished dumplings in a plate without arranging them neatly. 

Oh, she’s incensed. But what the fuck? Of all things, why is she nitpicking about this?

“What do you want me to say, Yumi-chan? He just does whatever he wants.”

“I want you to tell me you’ve made your love and appreciation clear for him.”

“Ew.” Dabi spits out without thought.

Hell no. That’s not them. 

Perhaps it’s because of their fucked up childhoods that that could never be them.

A sincere attempt at cheesy romantic gestures would be met with endless mocking, emotional hives, or both. Repressed, unapologetic assholes, the both of them are. 

However, what follows would no doubt be disastrous on a collateral scale as well. There would be endless anxiety and internal dilemmas over what if? Fuck, what if? What if Hawks really wanted to be normal? Wanted out of this complicated and perilous life? Wanted something Dabi could never be? His insecurities would destroy him. (It’d only be proof. After all, what child could so easily be abandoned by their father? Of course, he’s broken, born wrong, because look, even Keigo left. No. No. Keigo didn’t abandon him, but it sure as hell felt like it back then –)

No way Dabi would respond to the assumed rejection healthily. Or quietly. Neighborhood blocks had been destroyed for less. 

On the other hand, Hawks has countless hideouts and the resources to spirit away an underground hero.

Some may call it morbid, but Dabi calls it realistic. 

He knows himself. He knows Hawks. 

Only death could truly separate them at this stage of the game. 

Dabi would never off himself if the birdie was to go first; his mother and siblings and responsibilities would anchor him to a slow death, a pyre deprived of oxygen until the dangerous inevitable of his career found mercy in allowing him a final show. But there would be no other. No other mate. No more spark in his life. 

Whereas Hawks would either perish together or soon after, shedding more bloody entrails upon his already terrifying crimson afterimage.

As such, fuck the normalcy. Fuck the romantic gestures. Fuck whatever rainbows and unicorns Fuyumi believes either of them need.

“Touya-nii! Oh, I was right! I was hoping it was not so, but how could you?” Fuyumi sighs, disappointed. “It really is you who I should be lecturing on being a good partner.” 

With an eye roll, internally, Dabi transfers the messy plate onto the dining table.

He pointedly moves to sit there, slumped with a chopstick in hand and very much not helping Fuyumi cook the remaining dumplings to signal his retreat from the conversation. 

Not that younger siblings could ever take a hint.

“Don’t you understand? There’s a difference between satisfying yourself and your partner gifting you something and your partner reaching out to you to spend quality time together.” 

Dabi’s apartment can be best described as a nice bachelor’s pad where only the television and bed were splurged on, modestly livable, so there’s little need for raised voices even standing at opposite ends. Fuyumi apparently finds the open kitchen and dining area requiring it.

“With how you described Kei-kun, he must be a romantic and sensitive person. It’s only fair that you show you care too –”

Seriously, if any of these words were thrown at him from Shouto or Natsuo, a nice little bonfire on their heads would’ve been his response. It wouldn’t even hurt them with their ice quirks, though it may leave a funny-as-hell bald spot for a couple of months.

Gender equality is a thing, inner Shiggy suddenly whispers like a wrinkly, demented temptation. 

Dabi snaps his chopstick unevenly.

Inner Kurogiri simply starts scrubbing harder at an imaginary stain on an imaginary glass cup.

She has a stronger ice quirk than Natsuo, inner wannabe magician muses. It would provide the wonderful, dramatic statement you desire.

No, no, you should never touch a lady’s hair, inner Big Sister interjects loudly. Dabi dear, don’t you dare, or else I will pummel you so thoroughly until you wish your hair wasn’t fireproof –

But it would give her something else to nag about, inner lizard sniffs. Seriously, why is she still talking? She’s worse than those fish market aunties. I swear, accidentally knock over one salmon, and it’s like you’re on their most wanted list for the next decade.

She wouldn’t even expect it, inner Hime grins madly. Your pretty blue flames can make her even prettier. White and red – you make it white, red, and blue! All Might colors! 

Listen to Big Sister, Dabi! She knows about ladies the best-est! Twice screams. But also listen to Leader and Hime and Compress and Spinner and me, of course, and –

Dabi promptly inhales three dumplings at once, then nearly hacks out a lung as an expected consequence. When Fuyumi ceases her tirade to save him with a clumsy Heimlich maneuver, her fists digging more into his ribcage instead of under, Dabi only takes that as proof he should never listen to his crazy-ass team. Both in real life and in his head. Especially in his head.

Chapter Text

Delivering intel for his man-child of a leader wasn’t the worst gig. Especially when Dabi jumped through Kurogiri’s portals at the cusp of Shiggy’s info dumping of the latest cases he was asked to investigate – “begged,” Shiggy crowed gleefully, “I was begged on their knees because limelight hero analysts are useless!” – and Hime barging in with a new team building exercise, namely the ‘which villain archetype are you’ Buzzfeed quiz. 

Oh, yeah, he definitely escaped in time.

Even if it was near midnight because, seriously, Shiggy’s definition of overtime was getting looser and looser.

Even if he was dropped upon a dreary rooftop.

Even if he was to deal with the most troublesome of heroes.

Eraserhead, in all his homeless glory, exits the shadows, the darkness only rivaled by those as always impressive eye bags. Now, see here, Dabi respects the dude. He’s an amazing hero by all definitions: greedless of fame, a tactical bloodhound, an actual badass without all the annoying flashiness. There’s no one more Dabi would trust his baby brother with, not even All Might and much less the flaming old bastard. 

However, he’s also a fucking workaholic. It’s tiring just even thinking about him. Not even Fuyumi would entertain tackling two soul-sucking careers at once. It’s even more tiring that Eraserhead takes his jobs seriously to exponential degrees. No other hero’s performance report could compare. 

Case in point: 

Eraserhead greets him with a “We need to talk about your new relationship.”

Dabi freezes, his hand around the encrypted USB stick in his pocket. “What,” he deadpans.

There shouldn’t have been any curveballs like this tonight.

This was supposed to be a get in, get out quick situation à la Dabi-delivery because 1) Shiggy’s a fucking contrarian wherein he touts himself as a tech genius but doesn’t trust a private cooperation’s email system, and 2) Shiggy will freely use Kurogiri’s quirk except as a mail delivery service. The League often works with underground heroes. By nature of their specialties, Shiggy enjoys tackling the most chilling of cases, driven by his desire to be the mysterious and overpowered shadow ruler, so Shiggy will always prioritize investigation requests from underground heroes. This is regardless of the multiple complaints filed and lost, sometimes rerouted to All Might’s agency’s mailbox, from limelight heroes. 

Thus, the game plan was simple: 

Toss the stupid stick at Eraserhead, maybe send a jaunty salute, and don’t collect any tips. And definitely don’t expect any small talk. Eraserhead’s usually pumped full of spite and caffeine for that, anyway. 

So what the fuck is this?

“My new relationship,” Dabi says slowly. Foolishly hopeful it’s not exactly what he thinks this is going to be about.

Eraserhead’s nod and a “Todoroki told me,” slash away all that hope.

Oh God. Damn it, Shou. 

“That’s uh… really none of your business?” Dabi smiles wryly. 

“It’s a teacher’s duty to address a student’s concerns.”

“It’s none of Shou’s business, either.”

Dabi only receives a raised brow for that. Right. Hero-in-training. Being a nosy fuck is encouraged. With a hurried prayer to the night sky – cloudy, ha, just like his ensuing sanity – Dabi just. Breathes. For a moment.

Because, no, he can’t explode about this. This is all fucking karma, his fault, his own undoing for teasing Shouto and making him concerned. Of course, his baby brother, in all his alarm and awkwardness, would run to the nearest reliable male figure for help. He’s learned from the Stain fiasco to thankfully not tackle issues solo, but… 

Oh fucking God… Shouto probably told all his friends about Dabi’s new dubious relationship, too. Dabi’s going to have a gaggle of heroes-in-training pestering him alongside his family and fansites; one of Shouto’s classmates, if not him himself, is definitely going to apply for a work-study with the League to keep an eye on him.

And, no, he can’t just fuck away from all this. Because he’s a fucking adult and, most damning, is that Eraserheard knows where he lives and works. Shiggy would even assist with tracking Dabi for shits and giggles.

All Might, save him.

… Okay, okay. Fine, this is his life. 

He can do this; he dodged Fuyumi’s interrogation. 

Deny everything. Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. You’ve got this, Dabi.

“The kid’s under a bad misunderstanding.” Dabi starts, injecting far more confidence in his voice than he feels under Eraserhead’s piercing stare. “He, uh, freaked out about…” How the fuck does he gloss over a slew of bite marks and hickeys? Knowing Shouto, he very likely relayed to Eraserhead bluntly that Dabi looked like a mutant’s chew toy. “About nothing. Really.”

Fuck. 

Even his words sound moronic to himself.

“Really.” Eraserhead crosses his arms.

“Yeah. I’m in a totally sane, consensual, and safe relationship.” Because, for all of Dabi’s annoyance and panic over explaining Hawks to anyone, he’d never deny their relationship. “We’re all mature adults here. We were just having a bit of fun.”

Eraserhead stares.

Dabi stares back, feeling cold sweat down his nape.

Finally, “Pull down your shirt collar.” Eraserhead orders.

Fuuuck. Dabi laughs aloud, high-pitched and forced, “C’mon, sir,” oh, he’s totally panicking. He’s dishing out the sir. He doesn’t even do that with All Might. “You can’t be serious –”

“Dabi, do it.”

He had naturally worn a turtleneck during his work hours and around his band of morons, but of course, when it really matters, the turtleneck defense is ineffective. With a very put-upon grimace, like self-marching to the chopping blocks, he lowers his collar. Just barely. Just for an instant. It is enough for Eraserhead’s eyes to narrow dangerously, flashing red, and long, choppy hair twitching.

Fucking hell. Hawks had been incredibly enthusiastic about renewing his marks for the scheduled joint interview with Endeavor tomorrow.

Still, “It’s not that bad.” Dabi tries. “It looks worse than it actually is.”

“Those bite marks are deep enough for forensic evidence.”

“Just a love tap.”

“From a mutant with who knows what diseases that come with his species.”

“Hey, now, I joke that my birdie likes to act like an animal, but he’s actually not.”

“Has he been tested?”

“Of course.” The HPSC would’ve given Hawks a full dossier of vaccines the instant they purchased him. “He’s not some homeless degenerate I’m just hooking up with.”

“Mutants need continuous preventative care. They’re not susceptible to just human diseases. Just last month, there was a bird flu outbreak –”

“Yeah, on like weak ass chickens. My birdie is built differently.”

“So he’s a bird of prey mutant,” Eraserhead quickly deduces. 

Fuck. Right. That bird flu had spread to domestic birds across the city, too. 

But what his family and Eraserhead don’t understand is that Hawks would never harm Dabi. He desires him. Fervently. He wants Dabi to be happy; granted, he wants Dabi to be happy with only him, but that’s a love confession in itself, no? It worked. Dabi’s certainly been seduced. 

What’s fucking wrong with that?

“Dabi, with every instance you withhold information about him, it leads me to believe he’s less and less on the books.”

Bull fucking eye.

Dabi would never deny Hawks, but even he understands the potential consequences of their relationship going public prematurely. The endless opinions formed from the HPSC’s virtuous narrative, lacking information and care of Hawks’ past and the true nature of their relationship, from heroes always better at acting than thinking, alongside the damaging spiral from news outlets and social media. Dabi could kiss his career goodbye. Maybe even the League would follow like a sinking ship because, for all their craziness, they were damn loyal. 

And what about Fuyumi and Natsuo? And Shouto… oh, Shouto. Not even a foot into his heroic future but already forced to contend with Endeavor’s and Dabi’s dirty laundry. Eraserhead may just be fishing at the moment, but there’s such a small step between off-the-books mutant and Hawks that it freaks Dabi out. He trusts Eraserhead with Shouto, but he doesn’t trust anyone with Hawks.

Lessons borne from his childhood surge forth. 

Hit hard and hit fast. Don’t let them hurt you.

Baring his teeth like a cornered animal, his quirk sparks with his panic and anger. “Cause Keigo is literally none of your business?!” Dabi snaps. 

Eraserhead blinks, the slight straightening of his back the only indication of his surprise at Dabi’s fiery response.

Dabi fucking understands, okay? He’s no figure of reliability or sanity. 

Sent away by his own father. Not even interested in attending an acclaimed hero school. Constantly being written up for disciplinary action during his work study.

Alone. Desperate. Weak. Pathetic. A ticking time bomb.

Always being criticized. 

The paragon of useless genes and disappointment.

Only to fail in running away, too.

He’d have burned to death by his own quirk at thirteen years old had it not been for sheer dumb luck that an off-duty hero on a mountain hike – not Endeavor, of course, never him, his father has never saved him – heard his screams echoing across the snow. 

But can’t people see? Can’t they understand? He’s happy now. 

If they truly cared about him, can’t they just accept that and fuck off?

Dabi didn’t know before picking up those red feathers from the ground, akin to bread crumbs for a love-starved child, that they and the feathers’ owner were the pieces he had been missing all this time. He’d been walking injured for so long, broken pieces so sharp and peculiar that Dabi never sought a way out of the pain, would’ve never done so out of fear of being hurt more. He may complain about Hawks dropping in unexpectedly but that very trait may have saved him.

“I appreciate the nosiness and the confrontation. And the rest of your fucking heroics.” He snarls at Eraserhead, waving his hand in the man’s direction. “Really, I do. Shou really needs all of that.” 

It sounds sarcastic, but Dabi is being honest. 

For far too long, Peppermint didn’t have a reliable, somewhat parental, older male figure to emulate and in turn, support and protect him. Dabi could’ve never been that for his siblings. 

“But I most certainly am not one of your brats to save, so whatever you hoped to gain from this? Just stop it and fuck off.”

There’s a brief reprieve, only filled by Dabi’s panting and clenching fists and the gears turning in Eraserhead’s head like an exceptional, experienced hero considering his next steps to achieve his objective, to succeed in his interrogation, and it’s fucking annoying and hurts that he’s being treated like a case from a hero he respects. 

Only for said hero to throw him a curveball. “I’ve always thought of you as one of my own.”

“What?” Dabi jerks back, wide-eyed.

Eraserhead sighs, his unnerving eyes closing for a moment, and when they reopen, there’s an obvious softness there rarely seen from the man. Eyes absent of oppressive red, the color his normal dark, but a darkness that invites safety within its depths. He’s usually such a prickly cactus, his gentleness known about and endlessly teased over by peers but never at the forefront, and yet, he’s purposely pushing it forth now before Dabi. For Dabi.

Dabi swallows thickly. 

“When the Commission was reviewing your debut, I was one of the people tasked with evaluating you from the shadows.” He says, a non sequitur, yet Dabi grimaces at it nonetheless. 

His hero license was just another can of worms, a can of worms with an obvious outcome but nonetheless one.

With both Endeavor and Shiggy’s stakes in Dabi getting his license, he never doubted walking out of his graduation interview without the plastic card in hand. Endeavor had a reputation to upkeep, a legacy that could not fail even for was his greatest failure, and Shiggy had his relentless ambitions with All Might’s blanket backing.

It just… it doesn’t feel good, okay? To have his future on easy mode, to have his blood, sweat, and tears disregarded because of others’ expectations and capability to gift wrap a hero license onto a pathetic thing like Dabi.

“I passed you but with conditions,” Eraserhead reveals.

“What conditions?”

“That you must have support equipment to suppress your quirk in emergencies and attend regular therapy sessions.”

“That’s… what the fuck?” Dabi had blindly accepted those requirements since his debut, thinking they applied to all heroes, but this implies otherwise. 

A beep. 

But, no, it was just him. 

Another beep. Be-beep, beep.

Always just him. 

Said support equipment comes alive at his sudden spike of anger. The suppression bracelet that comes with his hero costume – now known to have only been required for him, a pathetic failure like him – flashes red like Eraserhead’s unrepentant gaze. Its beeps blare like warning sirens as the two heroes’ standoff escalates. “Why?” Dabi sneers out. “Your duty couldn’t allow another destructive upstart loose on the streets?” 

That gaze turns sharp, almost reprimanding. “I couldn’t turn a blind eye to a child spiraling –”

“I’m not a child!”

“– and one that never seemed to want to be a hero in the first place.”

“Shut up, I – what?” 

At Dabi’s stutter, Eraserhead bulldozes on through. “That was and still is my assessment. So tell me, do you enjoy being a hero, Dabi?” 

The simple question freezes him. 

Because –

Why does it matter? 

Heroics was the only path a child that once held Endeavor’s interest. By the time Shouto all but kicked him to the curb, broken and abandoned, Dabi was already shackled. Sure, his own pride and childish desire to be acknowledged by what he considered his superhero, his father that could do no wrong, may have also damned him, but ultimately, what do his feelings have to do with him being a hero? 

His silence must’ve spoken volumes because Eraserhead presses his lips together in a grim line. “Do you understand why I pushed those conditions? You’re one bad day away from a careless mistake that could get yourself killed.”

“What exactly are you implying, Eraserhead? If you have doubts about my work performance, there are proper channels for that.” Which then becomes Shiggy’s problem as Dabi’s team lead. Dabi may complain about the man-child endlessly, but Shiggy would protect him with the ferocity of a dragon to its hoard. No complaint from extra crispy fried villains or unfortunate civilian collateral, much less a well-meaning hero, could ever sideline him. 

“It’s not your intentions I doubt, Dabi. You’ve always had a good heart. Your ability to calm distressed civilians, especially kids even when you were a student yourself, speaks to that. That was always a positive observation in your evaluations.” With a shake of his head, Eraserhead says. “Nevertheless, a hero need to be careful about burning themselves out. The stress of the work is already taxing, but when added to constant conflicts with colleagues, they’re more likely to lash out or become careless at the most inopportune moment. That is what I worry about. Too many times I’ve seen that happen and in a fatal manner.”

Frowning, Dabi asks. “And what does that have to do with liking being a hero?”

“I can efficiently gauge one’s mental state from their response. Because a hero who enjoys and finds fulfillment in their work means they understand the need to be clear-headed both on and off the field, that they have healthy habits, and have a well-established support system because to keep being a hero for long, they need to be able to care for themselves before saving others. Lacking any of those traits could cause even the strongest heroes to be taken advantage of.”

Eraserhead is molding his speech carefully, never calling Dabi out directly or accusing him of being the antithesis of his spiel of a proper hero, but Dabi can read between the lines. 

Are you taking care of yourself? 

Or is the stress consuming you? Would your constant conflicts with your colleagues, with limelight heroes on the League’s behalf, and with Endeavor, break you?

Being a hero is a job to you, and you are doing fine. 

But it has never been something you wanted or are enjoying. 

If you don’t like something, it will eventually turn into hate. 

I don’t doubt your heart, thus I don’t worry about you harming others. 

But what about yourself?

If it’s not hate, then it’ll be the carelessness that harms.

Are you already self-harming by way of a dubious relationship? In which this supposed off the books mutant is taking advantage of you? 

This ultimately leads up to Eraserhead’s goal: Do I need to save you?

There’s so many ways Dabi could’ve started his response. The heroics thing deserves a whole three-hour-long therapy session just to unravel his tangle of complicated feelings, family drama a bonus, and yet the first thing to come out is “Keigo is not taking advantage of me.”

Eraserhead blinks. 

Dabi nearly gapes at his own words but it’s like fuel has reached the hearth of a flame. They tumble out unbidden from his deepest core. 

“He should have been a hero. He… he would’ve been the very best out of all of us. Would have happily survived on frozen chicken nuggets – because like hell I’d trust him around a stove – and the cheers from the people he would’ve saved. He’d be a damn showboat about it because, at his core, he’s a fucking narcissist, but it’d be all a facade to the fact that he’s just a good fucking person.”

A beep. 

Dabi growls out. “Even now, he’s still saving people and getting shit for it.”

Hawks has essentially declared war against human and quirk trafficking. Fukuoka has never been safer, and how does society thank him for it?

S-class villain. 

The red carpet to Tartarus.

Compared to the truly disturbing number of current heroes simply here for the ego boost or permission for violence, “It’s unfair.”

Because if it hadn’t been for those bastards – if someone had just cared –

The Commission.

Endeavor. 

There wouldn’t be a Hawks or Dabi that would be disquieted by just the word hero.

Beep. Beep. 

And yet. 

Reality is a toxin that Dabi has long been forced to consume. It’s him waking from a medically induced coma following his quirk accident alone. It’s him returning home to Shouto having replaced him, his little limbs beaten black and blue with Endeavor looming over. It’s Keigo being berated as his feathers were snapped because he couldn’t handle a simple pain tolerance exercise. It’s Keigo saving himself. It’s Dabi who is the hero instead of Hawks. 

“It’s unfair,” he repeats, frustrated and grieved but a realist. A realist and a survivor. He has made do with the shit card that is his life, “so until people properly see Keigo as a hero, I will be his.”

After all, he’s the bridge Hawks has to the League. To Shiggy and All Might. Even if it’s for an idiotic reason like wanting to go on a date publicly with Dabi, it’s reason enough to convince Hawks to stand before a judge and for Dabi and everyone he can fucking drag into the room, threatening and pleading, to advocate for him.

Because that is the least Hawks deserves.

If Dabi being a hero is the only means to make that a reality, he’ll goddamn enjoy being a hero. 

“I see.” Eraserhead’s contemplative hum has Dabi refocusing. 

Oh. 

Well, fuck.

Eraserhead may just have succeeded in his confrontation. Perhaps not what the hero wanted, but still things Dabi had thus far only kept close to his heart about Hawks were given voice.

There is a tense lull for but a breath, and then Eraserhead relaxes back into his usual tired, detached countenance. “I will continue keeping an eye out, but it seems my and Todoroki’s initial concerns are unnecessary. Your Keigo clearly means a lot to you and seems to be a good influence on your professional life.”

Dabi gapes this time because that almost sounds like, “you… uh, was that you giving your approval?” 

With a raised brow, Eraserhead says. “It is none of my business as you said, but you deserve to have someone looking out for you.”

Dabi turns away, hiding away his flushed face. “You can’t be my sane father figure if you’re only seven years older than me.” He snipes out half-heartedly. 

Sappy feelings, ew.

Eraserhead huffs, rolling his eyes. Also done with feelings. But doesn’t deny the parental claim, the madman. Like seriously, how many strays does this man want to collect? It’s not like he’s getting paid for it. 

Finally, after the roller coaster of a meeting, Dabi tosses the USB. Kurogiri thankfully acquiesces to transporting Dabi straight to his bed rather than back to base, skipping over more potential Shiggy demands. There’s only so much he and his suppression bracelet could be overworked in one night. 

–

The next day…

The joint interview is as scandalous as it was extremely fun. 

The fresh marks are damn visible, even to an aging bastard whose vision is usually shadowed by flames and his inflated ego. To his immense delight, Dabi gets Endeavor to add manwhore to his repertoire of Dabi-specific insults. 

On live TV, too! Plus Ultra Explosive, LOL! 

He’ll make sure Endeavor’s agency foots the bill to replace the burnt props. 

Afterward, Dabi has to appease Fuyumi’s messages of despair with a “no, Yumi-chan, please, I’m not hurt by it, no emotional breakdown here, don’t come over,” retweets Natsuo’s gifs of the interview from his anti-social media platform to Dabi’s official hero page, and responds to Shouto’s thumbs up emoji with his own, a safe response in his opinion, because what the fuck is this brat thumbing up to? 

Dabi also sends all calls from Eraserhead straight to voicemail after the first concerned one. His questionable behavior around Endeavor is not a cause of concern for his everything else, okay? Eraserhead just gave his approval last night. No takebacks!

And of course, just like after every interaction past, accidental or purposefully scheduled to incite, Dabi blocks Endeavor’s number.