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Rain on the Sun

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It’s January.

Everything’s cold and miserable, and it’s been raining cats and dogs and whales. So, January has started off with all the typical stuff.

It takes a while before Dabi remembers that January means something to him on a personal level. He’s been alive for almost yet another year. That’s kinda impressive given the circumstances ‘cause Dabi has taken many risks over the past half a year. Sure, it has paid off. He’s alive, and the League is finally getting somewhere. New allies and resources have emerged, and shit’s been easier now that money isn’t a problem.

But it feels weird to be alive.

Dabi decides to keep this upcoming achievement in his mind. He’s gonna stay alive the following weeks. There’s still time to mess up and die, but the odds for success are looking pretty good. The League is avoiding any direct confrontation with the Commission, and the current agenda is empty. Shigaraki has told everyone to rest and lick their wounds clean while they’re at it, and the entire underworld is fine with it.

Slow days aren’t Dabi’s cup of tea, but he’s healing. He’s not gonna be a supermodel, but his burns have seen worse days. Nasty goo has stopped oozing out of them, not to mention that well-slept nights are happening. Sometimes Dabi feels like he’s a phoenix snake that’s arising from the dead and shedding its charred skin. That creature can and will motherfucking obliterate a few hero hypocrites before it’s time to get caught in a fire and repeat the cycle.

A couple of nights before the big day, Dabi meets up with Shigaraki in a motel. They’ve had a thing going on for a while, and just like always, they get into their room and waste no time in exchanging words. They don’t talk, they fuck.

Shigaraki is rough. He’s afraid to touch Dabi with his bare hands, but his teeth go frigging’ everywhere. They scrape Dabi’s skin, so much so that the line between healthy and injured gets blurry, which is exactly what Dabi wants and needs. He’s yanked his shirt and jeans off before he and Shigaraki even hit the bed, both out of breath. They’ve never been gentle, so there’s no point in starting now.

They’ll never be gentle.

Dabi digs his nails into Shigaraki’s back. He’s missed this so much. Time and privacy have been scarce lately, and it shows. There will be so many new bruises and cuts, and Dabi fucking loves the way Shigaraki goes down on him. Everything feels swollen and wonderful and…

Holy fuck.

By the time the fun is over, Dabi is convinced that even his ass is covered in hickeys. He puts his boxers back on after a sloppy clean-up job. It hurts to stand up, but that’s fair. Shigaraki looks all beaten up with bruises on his neck and scratches all over his body.

Dabi smirks to himself before he begins to look for a pack of cigarettes. There’s one in the breast pocket of his jacket, along with a few other things as well. It’s a great day to pop a few pills, and Shigaraki won’t mind.

Or at least he won’t notice anything. Dabi swallows his findings without water and walks over to the window. He opens it, lights up a cigarette and blows out a ring of smoke.

Shigaraki doesn’t tell Dabi to get off the window before anyone sees him, so they must be equally satisfied.

It’s funny how sex brings people closer.

Shigaraki seems mellow when he basks in his afterglow, and that makes Dabi wanna stay for a little longer. They’ve talked ‘bout stuff after hooking up. One time, they even watched a movie together. The flick was alright ‘cause there was a flooding television that contained an acrobat, and that cable kid had mad talent.

Dabi takes another drag on his cigarette. He’s gotta finish his smoke before deciding what to do next.

“Hey?” Shigaraki asks.

“Yeah?” Dabi replies. He turns around to glance at Shigaraki. They just watch one another ‘cause that’s what they do these days. Shigaraki’s hair looks wild and curly – touchable.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-not-relevant,” Dabi replies, and smoke drifts into the room. “Why? Are you worried ‘bout underage drinking or something? ‘Cause the last time I checked…”

“No, you idiot,” Shigaraki interrupts. “Your birthday is in a couple of days, right?”

Dabi ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach. He finishes his cigarette and flicks the butt out of the window.

Shigaraki isn’t stupid, so it makes sense that he’s figured out a thing or two on his own, but he’s not supposed to know this sorta shit. It’s private info, though Dabi may have let the beans spill without realizing it. Come to think about it, he’s had some wild weeks. The League is well connected, and so far Giran has never failed to deliver good fucking nuggets.

“I don’t remember telling ya that?” Dabi maintains, but he has a flashback of Toga talking about horoscopes and claiming that Capricorns are disciplined and orderly.

“I wonder why,” Shigaraki says, and he’s got a fair point. Those memories are cloudy as hell.

“Ah, yeah – gotcha,” Dabi admits. “So, what’s the point?”

“Are you going to celebrate?”

“No,” Dabi replies.

He’d do tons of stupid shit anyway.

Shigaraki has a sixth sense for detecting white lies, though. He narrows his eyes, so it’s time for a different approach.

“Relax, Hand,” Dabi says. “Lissen, I’m gonna catch up with Giran ‘cause I owe him. He’ll make sure that I behave.”

“Fine,” Shigaraki sighs. “How much do you owe?”

A lot.

Dabi shrugs. He’s always figured out to pay his debt, so it’s not a biggie. Besides, Giran is a patient man. He knows that waiting means winning.

“You could come back to the base with me,” Shigaraki points out. He props himself up on his elbows and gives a sharp look to Dabi. “Toga and Twice have been asking me about you. They want to know what you like – they’d be thrilled to spend some time with you on Saturday.”

“Yeah, no,” Dabi snorts. “But if they need a reason to go wild, they should throw a current moon phase party or something. I’m just not gonna celebrate being born and ruining my mom’s life, y’know?” he blabbers.

Shigaraki would usually say something, but he’s silent and astonished.

And then the realization hits Dabi. He’s said the mom part aloud.

A number of topics are being kept secret, especially moms. They’re off the table, and Shigaraki agrees with this.

Dabi has screwed up big time.

Shigaraki touches his neck, but no scratching follows.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” he asks, but there’s no real intention to get nosy. He’s just tryna be nice for shits and giggles. People do get soft after some action.

“No, ‘m not…” Dabi says, but he cuts himself short when a thought comes into his mind. Every day has been a goddamn miracle. Dabi isn’t gonna live long enough to expose every scandalous secret he’s kept to himself for years. This wreck of a body is falling apart. It’s aching all the time, so the future doesn’t seem bright.

Shigaraki loves skeletons in cupboards. He can appreciate blackmail material for what it is.

“I dunno where she is,” Dabi mumbles. The words burn his tongue and leave a putrid taste in his mouth, but it is what it is. The show must go on ‘cause Shigaraki is one of the few people who have the potential to weaponize this info. “She was hospitalized like ages ago, and no one has heard anything from her ever since.”

“Why?” Shigaraki asks.

“She was kinda batshit,” Dabi concludes. He’s done his research and kept up with Endeavor’s career. The fucker claims to be married with three kids, so apparently, no divorce has been filed. “She kinda flipped and did one pretty nasty thing, but she wasn’t that bad, but she might still be locked up somewhere,” Dabi adds.

Shigaraki might give a damn, or at least he’s curious. It takes a while before he speaks.

“Have you tried finding her?”

“I don’t care that much, Hands,” Dabi scoffs. He needs another cigarette.

“You’re shaking,” Shigaraki states.

“Yeah, I popped a couple of pills. They must be kicking in,” Dabi counters.

“But of course,” Shigaraki mutters. “So, other than being a bit troubled, was she harmless?”

“She wasn’t violent or anything like that. Sometimes she’d cut apples into slices and let me and my siblings watch cartoons.”

Sometimes she stayed in bed for days and sometimes she combed her fingers through Dabi’s hair and told him that one’s gotta brush their hair. Otherwise, it gets tangled.

Dabi hasn’t brushed his hair in a while. He lights up another cigarette and inhales smoke ‘til his lungs are full of it. Sirens sound somewhere in the distance. Maybe a street rat has stolen cheap car stereos, and now dozens of oh-so-great heroes are on their way to save the day.

The League needs to get active. Dabi stares at the horizon. His veins feel hot and cold. Molly doesn’t go well with a fire quirk, but that was to be expected.

The world should look wonderful once the stuff really kicks in.

“Hey?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi swallows hard before turning around with a smirk.

“It’s funny, though,” he says. “No one has heard from her for years, so it’s almost like someone’s paying to keep her away from the public eye.”

It sounds like one of those wack conspiracies that are super far-fetched.

Dabi doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They feel hot and fiery.

“What is her name?”

“Can’t remember,” Dabi replies. He’s almost convincing himself that this the case. Names are easy to forget ‘cause they’re arbitrary. Who even uses them anymore?

“Well, isn’t that unfortunate?” Shigaraki sneers. He acts like he knows stuff, but he isn’t addressing the elephant in the room.

Any normal person would think that even the mighty Endeavor has a soft spot for his spawn, but then again, Shigaraki isn’t irrational like a mere mortal. He gets that Dabi isn’t a great bait, so there might be feelings between them.

Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

Dabi finishes his cigarette. He’s spiraling down a rabbit hole of mixed-up priorities. Weeks have passed without the League making a move against the Commission, and it shows. Shigaraki is still laying in bed, which is a realization in itself.

“Man, how long are we gonna pretend that we’re on sick leave?” Dabi asks. He’s restless, and the sounds of the city aren’t helping.

“As long as we need to,” Shigaraki says. “Now, weren’t we supposed to enjoy ourselves?” he reminds. His eyes are dark and sultry, and maybe he’s right. Tonight is a good night for making up lost time.

Dabi is up for another round or two, or ten. Soon enough, he’s dragging his lips along Shigaraki’s skin. They get rough and nasty ‘cause there is no fun without scratches and bites. Shigaraki draws Dabi tight against him, promising all sorta sweet nothings.

The second round ends with them both panting and spent.

Dabi groans when a sudden empty feeling hits him.

“Feeling alright?” Shigaraki’s voice sounds distant.

“Wonderful,” Dabi hums. He’s all giddy on the inside, and whilst it’s a dangerous sensation to be had, it’s weirdly okay.

Time moves slow.

Shigaraki tells Dabi that they should get cleaned up, so they do just that and leave the motel key at the front desk without confronting a single staff member.

“I guess you aren’t going to come back with me,” Shigaraki says once they’ve walked out of the building through a side door. They are in a narrow alleyway, and even though this isn’t the posh part of the town, it’s risky to stand still for too long.

“Yeah, no, can’t stay put tonight,” Dabi replies. His heart is beating like it’s gonna break through his rib cage and escape. There are places to go and streets to walk.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Shigaraki warns. He already looks disappointed. That’s fair ‘cause Dabi has no idea what’s gonna happen next or what he will do.

“No promises,” Dabi comments. He flashes a smile when Shigaraki furrows his brows. “C’mon, Hands, I’m not gonna set the city on fire or anything.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Shigaraki says. “Just don’t get yourself caught or killed,” he adds without telling Dabi how much finding a replacement would suck.

“Gotcha,” Dabi reassures. He’s gonna avoid mystery powder overdoses too. Lately, Shigaraki has felt responsible for the League’s well-being, so his headaches are already ridiculous, and Dabi doesn’t wanna make matters worse. Besides, he’s starting to like the creep. These hookups could become regular.

Shigaraki reaches up and scratches his neck.

“Well then,” is what he ends up saying instead of asking for more empty promises.

“Yeah, see ya, Hands,” Dabi says. He’s got a vague game plan, so he waves goodbye to Shigaraki, and Shigaraki responds by sticking his middle finger up ‘cause he’s cute like that.

The following hours are wild and forgettable.

At one point, Dabi manages to catch up with Giran. The dude owns a whole bunch of fake night clubs that are meant for other businesses, but a few of them do exist. Dabi finds himself sitting at a corner table of Giran’s favorite bar.

The place is as smoky and tacky as one would expect.

Giran orders a bottle of champagne. He doesn’t negotiate without a couple of drinks.

“You have a lot of fans around here,” Giran says. “Do you want a glass?”

“Nah, don’t drink,” Dabi replies. “Besides, that shit is whack. Man, it tastes like carbonated dishwater.”

Giran shakes his head. His eyes crinkle when he smiles, and all the neon lights look wicked on his face.

“Suit yourself, kiddo,” Giran says. “Now, I assume that you’re here to pay me your debts.”

“Yeah, totally, bro,” Dabi claims. “I don’t have any money right now, but we could come up with something else?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“You’re the business genius,” Dabi says. He isn’t exactly sweating it, but the club is damn hot. Smoke swirls around Dabi’s head, spinning in circles.

Giran lets out a chuckle. His laugh rhymes with whatever the fuck the DJ is playing. Dabi feels that they’re having a moment.

“I don’t accept stolen credit cards anymore,” Giran says, but he’s already taking something out of his pocket. “My best customers trust in me, so I can’t take any risks with my brokers,” he says and places a tiny plastic bag on the table.

Dabi squints to see what’s inside.

“Yeah, I could work with that,” he concludes.

Giran tilts his head and sips his drink. He must be super damn convinced, Dabi thinks to himself. This pink and smoky hellhole is full of opportunities.

“Is that so?” Giran questions.

“Yeah, just gimme an hour or two. You’ll owe me by the time I’m done grinding, bro.”

Giran shakes his head again.

“Fine,” he sighs. “But only because you’re a long-time customer.”

Lights flash, and Dabi tells Giran to count on him.

Giran isn’t dumb enough to do so, but he’s fond of his own, so it’s alright.

There’s smoke everywhere, and Dabi kinda regrets of not drinking anything. His throat hurts like hell, and he needs some water.

Giran doesn’t test out his products, so Dabi does that for him. It’s gonna be a profitable night. Everything feels warm and nice, and Dabi gets many looks, but they aren’t judgy like the ones that are usually thrown at him.

Time moves fast, but Dabi takes things slow. The place resonates with him ‘cause the permanent smokescreen is hiding all the ugly stuff, and the music is beginning to build up structures.

Giran is nowhere to be seen, so it’s okay to chill for a while.

It’s hot, so Dabi takes a few steps towards the counter. He’ll be screwed if a glass of water costs a dime.

The water acquiring operation fails when someone squeezes Dabi’s ass and calls him gorgeous.

Dabi turns around. He’s curious to see who’s gonna burn. It’s a man in a suit. He’s nothing special, but nothing important got stolen, and the fucker is still hanging around.

He could be a customer.

Dabi opens his mouth, and one bad decision leads to another.

Shit hits the fan as it does.

The next thing Dabi knows is that he’s down on his knees in a cubicle. He glances up and meets a pair of hazy eyes. If his mouth wasn’t full of dick, he’d tell the stranger to stop staring at him. The man groans as Dabi sucks him deeper into his mouth. Sure, it sounds flattering and nice, so might as well keep going.

Dabi’s mouth is too dry for an excellent performance. He’s sweating like crazy, and then…

…then he feels a light touch on his hair, and something inside him just…

Shigaraki would tell Dabi to go and get some goddamn water.

A loud, bone-chilling shriek snaps Dabi out of his reverie. He’s no longer on his knees. He’s standing face to face with the guy he was sucking mere moments ago, and the guy looks all good ‘til Dabi looks down and sees two hand-shaped burns on the dude’s hips, but the worst injury is located between the man’s legs.

Dabi swallows hard and backs away, unable to look away. He didn’t activate his quirk, he’s sure of it.

The man keeps screaming, and people are rushing in. Somehow, there’s smoke everywhere, so it’s hard to see anyone’s face, and all the voices sound weird and muffled.

Nothing makes sense.

Dabi pushes his way through the crowd, but no one’s stopping him. People move away, muttering and mumbling incoherent gibberish, and all Dabi knows is that he’s gotta get out. He rushes out of the building and doesn’t stop ‘til his lungs are burning.

Once Dabi has found himself a spot to rest his feet, he goes through all of his pockets. He finds a half-full bag of pills, cigarettes, and his phone. It’s vibrating.

And time has really, really moved on.

Jin is calling. Dabi picks up the phone ‘cause he’s feeling weird and kinda clingy. That’s what happens whenever fun chemicals are leaving his body. Besides, his lungs are still on fire.

“’Sup?” Dabi slurs. He sits on a sidewalk and congratulates himself for not puking.

“Where are you, man? The boss has been trying to contact you all night – don’t tell me that you’re in trouble again,” Jin babbles. At least he sounds like himself.

“Why’d you think that?” Dabi asks. He needs to pull himself together.

“It was something about Giran. What’s up with that? He was talking about a burn victim at his club. Terrible PR for the place – no wait, it might be a good thing,” Jin ponders to himself.

“Yeah, that place was lame, bro, but now everyone knows that no one gives a flying fuck if there’s an incident or two, and Giran fucking owes me, and y’all can tell him that I accept cash only and I’mma keep his shit.”

“Alright, gotcha! You’re not making any sense.”

“Gimme the phone,” Shigaraki commands, unaware that Dabi can hear him.

“Ask him about that guy,” Toga whispers. She must be close to the phone, too.

Apparently, the entire League is listening.

“Sorry, man, the boss wants to speak with you,” Jin says.

Dabi rolls his eyes, but at the same time, he feels a twist in his chest.

It must be dehydration.

“Where are you?” Shigaraki asks.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with locations?” Dabi counters. “Look, I dunno,” he admits when Shigaraki isn’t saying a word.

“Are you high?” is Shigaraki’s next question.

That’s a tough one.

“Define that.”

“On your standards,” Shigaraki specifies.

“Kinda. Look, I’ll deal with Giran and ‘m sorry if he’s been bothering ya, but I’ve got like everything under control and–”

“Seriously?” Shigaraki interrupts. “Did you just say that you’re sorry?”

“I guess? Gimme like sec or two and I’ll deal with him.”

There’s another pause, and Dabi is mentally prepared to hear a few carefully selected words.

“Just get back to the base,” Shigaraki finally says. He doesn’t tell Dabi to hurry up – he’s not even rude, he’s just…


No, Shigaraki isn’t so calm when he’s disappointed. He’s concerned.

Dabi stares at his feet. He’s gotta move before his limbs begin to freeze up, and going back to the base might be the only viable option. It’s the easiest choice. The entire League is already there ‘cause none of those freaks has anywhere else to go.

And neither does Dabi. He can take care of his own damn problems, though.

“Hey?” Shigaraki speaks again. “I mean it – get your ass here.”

He does sound serious.

“Okay, okay,” Dabi says. “It might take a while,” he adds.

It’s gonna be a long walk, that’s for sure.

“See, it wasn’t that hard, was it? Better start walking,” Shigaraki purrs and that’s the end of the call.

Dabi can’t tell how long it takes before he’s back at the base. He’s kept a low profile for the entire walk, but by the time he’s back to the base, all that sneaky energy fades away.

Everything feels gray and unappealing as Dabi enters the building. He isn’t even surprised by the fact that Shigaraki greets him at the door. He’s got a sixth sense for people who think they’re being smart and stealthy.

“Wow, wasn’t really expecting a welcome reception,” Dabi comments. “Missed me?”

“What if I did?” Shigaraki challenges, eyes locked to Dabi’s, and that’s when Dabi realizes that he must look all ratty and beaten up. This stuff shouldn’t matter ‘cause Shigaraki has seen Dabi in much worse shape, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling grossly vulnerable. He lets out a hoarse chuckle, and it’s a mistake.

Shigaraki furrows his brows.

“Let’s get you some water,” he suggests.

Dabi bites his lip. No one should be so compassionate to someone who’s addicted to self-sabotage and misery.


“Because you need it,” Shigaraki scoffs.

“No, why are you being nice to me?” Dabi asks.

Shigaraki blinks.

“Am I?” he argues. “Let’s go.”

Shigaraki walks Dabi to the kitchen. They don’t speak, and everything is weirdly silent. Sure, there are footsteps and muffled television noises, but the usual dissonance is gone. Dabi chugs down a bottle of water, and that does wonders. He isn’t entirely sure why he lets Shigaraki walk him to the room where he usually stays.

One could describe the room minimalistic, but there’s a yoga mat, and someone has left a blanket on the floor, and that arrangement looks cozy.

Dabi lays down and tries to catch some sleep. It doesn’t work, but Shigaraki stays there, so it’s okay to rest for a while.

It should be safe.

Once Dabi opens his eyes, he feels almost normal.

Shigaraki playing on a console and sitting next to Dabi. He’s got a bag with him, and it’s full of games and papers.

“Slept well?” he asks when Dabi pushes himself up into a sitting position.

“Yeah, like a rock,” Dabi replies. “So, whatcha playin’?”

Shigaraki almost says something before he cuts himself short.

“The car game with palm trees,” he replies like saying it hurt him, but it’s a fitting description. Game titles are vague and forgettable.

“Y’know, you don’t have to stay,” Dabi offers. All the fun is leaving his system, and comedowns are friggin’ depressing moments not to be witnessed.

Shigaraki pauses his game and looks at Dabi in a weird sorta way.

“I wanted to make sure that you were alright,” he explains before Dabi has had a proper chance to ask why he’s there. “You were radiating heat.”

“Literally?” Dabi inquires. Shigaraki’s facial expression says it all. “That’s kinda neat, dontcha think?”

“Why are you like this?” Shigaraki sighs. “You almost made yourself boil alive.”

“C’mon, Hands, it wasn’t that bad,” Dabi insists. “No one died.”

“I guess you are right,” Shigaraki admits. He’s seen so much worse than this. “Anyway, I got you a little something. Consider it as a late birthday gift.”


Time is fake.

Dabi wasn’t expecting anything, but he’s not gonna bother with platitudes.

“So, what is it?”

“Hold on a while.”

Shigaraki reaches his bag. He shuffles through it and takes out a folder. Then he gives it to Dabi.

“If you want to read this alone, I can leave,” Shigaraki says.

Dabi stares at the folder.

“No, it’s fine,” he mutters. A familiar name is printed on the top right, so Shigaraki knows… He’s always known a thing or two, but he’s never admitted it. Dabi feels a lump in his throat. He doesn’t know how to address the damn elephant in the room, but Shigaraki never makes him do that.

Dabi opens the folder. His fingers are shaking, and all the letters look unintelligible.

“How’d you even get this?” Dabi asks.

“I have my connections,” Shigaraki replies. “Ujiko knows people, and he owed me a favor.”

“You should really stay away from that guy,” Dabi murmurs.

“He’s a useful pawn,” Shigaraki concludes. “He didn’t say anything about the experiment, so don’t incinerate him just yet.”

Dabi isn’t making any promises. He forces himself to focus on the folder and its contents. The first paragraphs are trash. They mention an unidentified psychiatric condition without explaining the symptoms any further. The later paragraphs describe medication management, and Dabi feels sick to his stomach. All the doses are ridiculous, and some mishmashes of drugs are eerily recognizable. Those cocktails aren’t curing anyone, and even a rookie businessman could tell that.

The first three pages are disgusting, but then the experimental stuff stops.

Years go by, and the release date gets postponed over and over again ‘til Dabi gets to the last page. He expects to see an unhappy ending, but instead of that, another name from the past shows up. There are mentions about family visitors. The first visit was months ago. Now the visits are a regular thing.

Dabi puts the folder down.

“So, did you find out what happened to your mom?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. His hands are shaking, and old and sore feelings are tryna push their way to the surface and spill out.

That isn’t happening.

Dabi swallows his emotions down his throat.

“Yeah, I guess. So, what now?” he questions, glancing at Shigaraki. Shigaraki returns the gaze. He moves a bit closer. They sit on the edge of the yoga mat, index fingers touching.

“That’s up to you to decide. We don’t have to talk about this,” Shigaraki replies. “I can’t stop you from doing what you need to do, can I?”

Dabi forces out a chuckle that comes out as a pathetic sob. He doesn’t get why Shigaraki is doing all of this, especially when he gets nothing in return. Dabi knows that he’s a lot. He can’t stop himself from doing stupid shit, and it jeopardizes the entire League. It must be fucking exhausting.

Without a word, Shigaraki opens up his arm, offering Dabi a spot to snuggle in. Dabi presses himself against Shigaraki ‘cause he does stupid shit.

This comedown has gotten rough.

“Thanks, Hands,” Dabi mumbles. He feels a light touch on his hair. Shigaraki is careful not to push it too far. He combs a few fingers through the tangled mess. It feels kinda soothing even though it sends Dabi into a wild headspace. He doesn’t do physical affection without having a quickie, but this is fine.



“I don’t want you to do anything hasty,” Shigaraki says. He doesn’t ask what Dabi is gonna do. Obviously, many things need to be done. Someone hasn’t played fair, and an innocent person is paying the price.

Dabi has never been good at defending people, but he knows a thing or two about revenge.

“I won’t,” Dabi says, and it’s not an empty promise. “I need some time to think this through.”

“I can help you with that,” Shigaraki says. He’s still playing with Dabi’s hair, careful not to inflict any damage with his quirk.

Dabi lets out a laugh even though his eyes are melting into water and his throat is raw. He doesn’t want to drag Shigaraki to this mess. He will take care of it, and if it doesn’t end well… Well, then Shigaraki has blackmail material at his disposal, and he can use it however he pleases.

“It’s fine,” Dabi says. “How hard can it be to kill a hero?”

“The number one hero?” Shigaraki asks. That’s a fair point. “Are you stupid or suicidal?”


“Let me help,” Shigaraki insists.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because I want to. We’re a team, you asshole,” Shigaraki maintains ‘cause he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.

Dabi stares at Shigaraki, and Shigaraki stares back, and then damn it, they just kiss. Their lips meet briefly before they part again.

Are they being gentle with one another?

It’s strange, but then again, life is like that.

“Yeah, Hands?” Dabi says once he’s finally found his lost tongue. “And what if I don’t letcha do anything stupid ‘n suicidal?”

“Then we have a problem,” Shigaraki replies, and all of a sudden, the world has colors again.

Dabi rolls his eyes before he wraps his arm around Shigaraki’s neck. They lean in for another kiss just to be sure.

Yeah, they definitely do have a problem, but it’s fine ‘cause it feels right, and maybe – just maybe – they’ll figure out something.