Work Header

A Home In Your Hands

Work Text:

It had been a long day. Somehow, it had been a non-stop day, without even time to eat anything for lunch - and considering his ineptitude at cooking food, he was going to be lucky to have more than a bowl of ramen for late night dinner. Keigo sighed as he unlocked his front door, typical.

With that knowledge, it was definitely a surprise to open his door and be greeted with the smell of grilled chicken and the sound of low talking from the TV in his living room. Of course, he thought with a small smile, Dabi.

He and Dabi had, over the months, gotten into certain habits. One of the many being that Dabi would come to his apartment, complain a lot about how little food he had in the fridge, and then cook something great with maybe 3 ingredients. Hawks, for his part, would wolf down as much as his stomach could handle.

Kicking off his shoes in the genkan, he let his feathers put away his coat and padded to the kitchen. “I’m home!” He felt, more than heard, the responding no shit, but paid it no mind as he yanked out the plate of Yakitori Dabi had cooked from the fridge to warm it in the microwave.

The aroma of the spices Dabi had used made his wings ruffle slightly - he knew Yakitori was one of his absolute favourite things to eat, and couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he rounded the hallway into the living room, plate in hand and munching away at the perfectly cooked meat. “I should keep you house-bound, you’re so good at the house-husband thing.”

Dabi didn’t even look away from the TV as he flipped Keigo the bird, “Maybe if you buy groceries more than once a fortnight you’ll have a better chance of that.” Honestly, the villain looked to-die-for, lounging easily in a loose black jumper and baggy sweats that he’d stolen from Keigo’s tallboy at some point.

Shoving a skewer between his teeth, Keigo flopped down on the sofa, landing his head heavily in Dabi’s lap and stretching his wings out. “You know, for someone who - after I apparently stacked the dishes wrong - said that he hates my guts so much, that he wouldn’t even help me if I was dying in the road... you sure do like to make sure I’m eating.” Keigo managed to get out around a mouthful of Yakitori, pointing the end of his skewer at Dabi.

Dabi rolled his eyes, batting away the skewer, “Not my fault nobody taught you how to stack dishes, featherbrain. And please. If you were mostly dead in the middle of the road I'd obviously stop. And then I'd watch you die.”

“Wow, thanks. Definitely feeling the love, dick.”

Dabi grinned at that, bouncing one of his legs to jostle Keigo’s head, “This dick can make you feel the love.”

Hawks snorted at that and slapped at Dabi’s chest, “Yeah, I bet. Sorry though Little Dabi, I do actually have to sleep at some point tonight. And you being you, I’d probably only get an hour, tops.” The leg shaking stopped, so he settled his head back down.

“Aw, I think that was almost a compliment.”

Keigo smirked, “Only thing worth complimenting you on, honestly.”

Dabi snorted but didn’t say anything else on the subject, focusing on the, in Keigo’s opinion, frankly boring reality show on the TV. Stuffing the last skewer in his mouth, he slid his plate onto the coffee table before snuggling in deeper to the heat Dabi radiated. For being so skinny, it was hard to deny how comfortable it was to lay like this. He inhaled deeply, and felt his wings slowly relax from how taut they had grown over the busy day. The smell of Dabi was an oddly comforting one to him, a mix of cheap washing detergent, antiseptic and smoke. It had been a sudden realisation for Keigo a few weeks ago how much just the smell of the villain could calm his nerves.

Oddly enough, this type of behaviour had to become quite commonplace in the past few months. Dabi would cook for him, and Keigo would patch up Dabi’s wounds and help with his scar sutures. Keigo would almost go as far to say if felt domestic in a way. He very much doubted that this is what the commission had in mind when they told him to gain the trust of the league, but he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

More often than not, if he came home to find his apartment empty, his immediate thought wasn’t to do with sleeping longer and having time away from his duties. No, his thoughts now revolved around a certain scarred man, and if he was okay. Damn it all to hell, he didn’t even report on Dabi if he could help it. He couldn’t keep it up for much longer - he wasn’t stupid - but, shit. He was allowed a small amount of happiness, wasn’t he?

Fingers started carding through Keigo’s hair, pulling a low trill from his throat, “I can hear your brain whirring, chickenshit.”

“Mm? Oh, sorry. Long day, I had to meet with the commission this morning, and you know how fun that always is.”

Dabi snorted, “Sounds like fucking torture to me.”

“Yes, well, I’d hardly call it thrilling work either. Still,” he sighed, “Gotta do what you gotta - hey don’t stop!” pouting, Keigo looked up to see Dabi smirking down at him, hand that was petting his head now raised above it.

“Turn over, you big chicken. Else I’ll just go straight to bed.” Maybe he was slightly too fast in flipping himself over, but hey, he wasn’t called the hero that goes too fast for no reason. He ended up with the side of his face smushed between Dabi’s thighs, feeling himself go to jelly when that magic hand came back to him again. First in his hair, raking nails through knotted strands on his scalp, then going lower, down his neck, spine, and into the feathers sprouting from his back. God, it was an almost torture with how good it felt.

Rumi was the only other person he let touch him this way, see him so vulnerable. Grooming his wings was long and arduous, sometimes painful, but having someone to help with it was beautiful. It sent shivers down his spine, and his wings quivered with the warm feeling of Dabi’s soft touches.

Nights like these, Keigo could almost believe that Dabi really did love him.

They stayed in that position for what felt like hours, simply basking in each other's presence. It wasn’t until he heard that the reality show Dabi had been watching had ended that he decided sleeping on Dabi’s lap all night might not be the best decision. Pulling himself up onto his knees on the sofa, Keigo took hold of Dabi’s hand - the one that mere moments ago had been grooming his wings to perfection - and kissed his palm, “Let’s go to bed.”

And so they went. Sharing a few lazy kisses as they lay together under the duvet, Keigo knew this wouldn’t, couldn’t last. But damn him to hell, he was going to enjoy every moment he could.