Work Header

Feathers, Staples and Chick

Work Text:


Keigo emerges from his slumber, disoriented. Sunlight is filtering through not fully closed curtains. Is it already time to wake up? Why did he wake up? His alarm is not even going off. What the fuck?

He startles when the sound of his doorbell echoes again in his otherwise quiet apartment. That must be what woke him up first. Who the fuck is ringing at his door? Rumi is on the other side of the country, plus she has her own set of keys. She wouldn’t bother to ring at the door, she’d just let herself in.

He drags himself out of bed and stumbles to the entrance hall, feathers and hair in disarray. Anyone who’s ringing at his door will have to have a fucking good reason. He’s only slept two hours since he came back from patrol and he’s exhausted. He needs at least three more hours to be functional.

He unlocks the triple-shielded door and opens.

“What the…?”

There’s no one. He looks on both sides of the corridor but it’s empty. A quiet chirp attracts his attention on his feet. There’s a basket on the doormat.

The basket is looking at him.

With curious blue eyes.

Another chirp resounds in the hallway.

Keigo slams the door shut.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

That thing happens only in movies, right? Like in that Harry Potter thing he marathoned with Rumi a few weeks ago.

It doesn’t happen in real life, right?

A loud screech from the other side of the door makes him cringe.

He opens the door again. The basket is still there. The bundle of blankets stirs and the little chick looks at him, face red and scrunched, mouth open to let out another cry.

“Hey hey, shush. Don’t cry,” Keigo tries as he crouches next to the basket, at a loss of what to do.

The chick looks at him, visibly unhappy. Probably waiting for Keigo to do something. How on earth can a baby give you such a judgmental look? Or is Keigo imagining things? Yeah, probably the latter.

He stays there, watching the chick and the chick watching him back. What is he supposed to do? He can’t leave a baby on the doormat, can he? Or can he? God, he’s so tired.

He slaps his cheeks.

Get a grip, Keigo. You’re a fucking hero. It’s probably just a big misunderstanding. Wrong doormat or something.

He hoists the basket in his arms and goes back inside. He drops his load on the kitchen island, still a bit confused about what to do. His first reflex would be to call Rumi but she’s on an undercover mission at the moment, hence completely out of range.

Maybe his manager? Or the Hero Commission?

The chick doesn’t let him more time to think and starts crying.

Keigo panics.

“Hey hey, why are you crying? Stop crying!”

It obviously doesn’t work.

Keigo opens the blankets and takes the baby in his arms. He almost drops it back when he feels a pair of tiny, featherless, ugly baby wings on the chick’s back.

Oh fuck.

The cries intensify with Keigo's awkward handling as he cradles the chick against his chest.

Yep, definitely wings.


Is this baby his?  

But how? -- Well, he knows how, thank you very much. He’s not an ignorant pigeon. But...the fuck? When did this happen?

He tries to figure this out with the chick wailing directly in his sensitive ear. It’s not helping his tired and confused brain to sort things out.

And then it finally dawns to him. Club night with Rumi before he starts his mission as a double-agent. Too much alcohol. Probably too many drugs too. He can’t really remember. But he remembers well waking up naked in his bed. Alone but with still a warm spot next to him.

Oh shit.

He tries to do the math and...welp, that was probably about ten months ago.



Fuck his life.

With a chick still bellowing its lungs out, Keigo rummages in the basket, trying to find any clue about the mother. Of course, there’s nothing except for some spare diapers, an empty bottle and a half-empty box of formula.

Great. Just great.

“Would you shut up?” Keigo groans.

He’s usually good with kids. But older ones. The ones actually able to talk and say what’s on their minds, even if that doesn’t make sense. But words, you know? Helpful and stuff.

The chick’s cry reaches another level of intensity, menacing intent to blow up Keigo's eardrums and probably shatter the glasses of the whole building.

Maybe it’s hungry? Keigo tries to make sense of the instructions on the box but gives up pretty quickly. He fills the bottle with water, throw a few spoons of formula in it and add two more to be sure and shake it. He flies to the couch and plopped in it, trying to move the baby in a not too weird position. He shoves the bottle in its open mouth and...silence.

Fucking finally.

Keigo sighs in relief and reclines back on the couch.



He has a kid.

Does that make him a father?

God. He’s a dad.

Keigo wants to screech into the void. How the fuck is he supposed to be a dad? He’s barely able to take care of himself outside of the job.

He looks at the chick for the first time. Like really looking at it. Light ash blond hair is catching the midday sunlight and there are already hints of black markings around the baby’s eyes.

Yep. Definitely his.


The suction noises slow down as the baby visibly fights to stay awake.

“Oi, chick, you have to finish eating.”

Keigo's voice startles the baby enough for him to go back to its drink. Tiny hands with tiny fingers brush Keigo's. The nails are already black and will end up as sharp talons in a few months. Years? Keigo can’t really remember when his own has sharpened up.

Wandering down his childhood memory lane is not his favorite hobby. Too painful. Too shitty. A real pity-party.

What is he going to do?

He can’t take care of a kid. He doesn’t have time for this. He doesn’t even know how.

But does that mean he has to abandon it in some shitty orphanage? Well, maybe not all orphanages are shitty. Maybe there are some decent ones. That would probably be the smartest move.

Drop the chick and go on with his life.

Knowing that his kid was growing up alone.

Without anybody to teach them how to preen properly.

How to fly.

How to dive and land.

How good chicken nuggets are.

Fucking goddamnit.

Rumi has always told him that he was a huge sap with a heart too big for his own good.

Way to prove her right.

He glances down at the baby. They finally fall asleep, the bottle nipple forgotten and a trail of milk running on their chin.

Keigo removes the bottle and wipes the milk with the hem of his t-shirt. He stands up quietly and goes back to the basket with stealth movements. He drops the chick back in the basket.

Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.

He sighs in relief when the baby only stirs in their sleep but their eyes stay closed.




Dabi lowers the hood on his coat as he makes his way to the closest phone booth. These things are antiques but still fairly useful when you need to make some untraceable phone calls. Like the one he’s about to make.

He hasn’t called Pigeonbrain for the past two weeks. He expects a lot of bitching and complaining and more demands to meet Mophead. And he will bitch back and say no again. Just because he can. And because it’s fun. Kind of.

After almost half a year of impromptu meetings and phone calls, Dabi has discovered that Hawks was more than just the shiny hero. He’s almost certain that the bird is playing both fronts. Why else would the Number 2 hero rub elbows with villains except for info? Dabi wasn’t stupid.

But Dabi feels like there’s more, an undercurrent of bitter anger that sometimes shows up when they talk about the hero society. Something underneath that he can work with.

He slips a few coins in the slot and composes the familiar number. He slouches against the wall of the booth, watching people come and go in their daily life as he waits for the hero to pick up.

He startles when a high-pitched cry makes his ears ring. “Oh wow. Am I interrupting something, Birdbrain?”

“Ha, it’s you. Hey. Sorry, can’t really talk now.”

The cry in the background is deafening. “Are you torturing someone or what?”

“More the other way around,” Hawks mumbled. “ Look, I won’t be available for a while. something came up and I had to take a leave from work so…”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Ha, yes? No? I don’t know. Kind of. Why do you care anyway?”

“Someone’s bitchy.”

“Sorry, don’t have time for niceties. Hey, hey shush, baby. It’s okay, I’m here,” he coos.

“Are you talking to me?”

Since when do I call you baby?”

Dabi smirks, unable to resist an opportunity to tease Hawks. “You can if you want. Call me baby and tell me I’m pretty.”

He can hear Hawks choking up on his breath. “Fuck off, Staples. I need to go. Bye.”

Dabi stares at the receiver in disbelief. He can’t believe Hawks just hung up on him like this. Well, Hawks’ loss. Dabi’s not going to let that bother him.

He’ll call Hawks back in a few days and give him some lessons about politeness and etiquette. It oughta be a laugh.




Dabi finds himself in the same phone booth three days later and the conversation goes as well as the last time. Except Hawks sounds even more exhausted and distressed. He yells at Dabi for waking up the chick.

Dabi has no idea what’s going on. He’s not worried. No, he’s not. Curious at the most. Just curious about what or who could drive the most chill hero in such a frenzy state.

Maybe he should pay Hawks a visit. Could be fun.




Keigo thought he knew exhaustion.

Hah! How wrong of him.

He’s pacing in his living-room, his chick screeching in his ear.


He doesn’t know what’s wrong this time. His diaper is clean, he has devoured one full bottle of milk like one hour ago and he’s still wailing like there’s no tomorrow.

Maybe there won’t be for Keigo. Maybe he will just die on the spot and this creature from hell will feed on his corpse. Maybe his son is more like a vulture than a hawk after all. Killing his victims by exhausting them and then munching them with a toothless mouth.

God, he’s so exhausted.

He’s so close to call Tokoyami.

Yes, he’s desperate like that. Calling a 15-year-old teenager who has interned with him for two weeks to save him. What the hell is dignity anyway? There’s no more dignity when you have vomit on your shoulder and probably in your hair and feathers, when you haven’t slept for more than two hours in a row in the past 48 hours.

It’s hell.

Pure and simple.

Why the fuck do people willingly make kids, seriously?

“Just sleep, I’m begging you,” he whines, adding his own desperate chirps to his son’s screeches. As if it would work.

He needs a miracle. Anything.

The loud sound of his doorbell makes him jump. His chick’s cries increase in volume at that. Keigo didn’t think it was even possible.

He doesn’t wait for anybody. Not that a lot of people know where he lives anyway. Except for some of his sidekicks, his manager and Rumi.

The doorbell rings again, impatient and angry.

Wait? Since when doorbells sound impatient and angry?

Damn, he’s so tired.

Please, someone end his suffering.

He walks to the door as the bell rings a third time, this time the person leaving their finger on the button, letting it ring forever. He tucks his son closer to him.

He opens the door and stays there. His brain tries to make sense of what he sees.

Not working.

Brain reboot.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He blurts after a moment, speaking louder to cover the sound of his crying son.

Dabi smirks as he eyes him from head to toe, lingering a while at the baby in his arms. “I was curious to see what could possibly keep the Number 2 hero away from work.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I have my ways, Birdie.” He tilts his head like a cat. “So? Have you changed careers?”


Dabi rolls his eyes and gestures at his son. “Are you a babysitter now? Who in their right mind will trust you with a child anyway?”

“First: fuck off. And second: I wonder that too, but here we are anyway.”

“Are you going to let me in or what?”

“Why on earth would I do that, Staples?”

Dabi clicks his tongue and shoves him on the side. “Because you’re obviously useless and since I’m in a good mood today, I’m willing to give you a tip or two.”

Dabi removes his heavy boots and takes the baby from Keigo's arms with one smooth gesture.

“Hey there, fuckface. What’s wrong with you, huh?” His voice is incredibly soft, calming and it soothes Keigo's nerves. And his son’s too, given the decreasing volume of the screech. “What did the stupid pigeon do to you to make you scream like that? Did he drop you on the floor? Did he forget to feed you?”

“Oy! I feed him alright,” Keigo protests as he follows Dabi.

“With what exactly?”

“Some stuff from that box,” Keigo grumpily replies, pointing at the formula standing on the counter.

“How much does he take?”


Dabi raised an eyebrow at him, the baby safely secured in his arm, as if he had done this all his life. “How many spoons per bottle, bird brain.”

“Huh? Some? I don’t know. Like three or four? Didn’t really count?”

Dabi’s eyes widened. “For a full bottle?”

Keigo blinks, confused. “Yeah?”

Dabi groans and gently pats the chick’s back. “He’s a moron, gremlin, it’s not your fault. Let’s feed you properly.”

Keigo watches Dabi’s precise and quick gestures with something close to awe. How this ruthless villain, with probably gallons of blood and ashes on his hands, can be so gentle and efficient with a baby.

“How many spoons?” Keigo asks.

Dabi doesn’t answer immediately, focused on his task. “7 for 240,” he finally replies, dropping the spoon in the box.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I can read instructions on a fucking box, you stupid bird. And I had a life before becoming what I am now. Nobody’s born a villain.”

“I…” Keigo bits his lower lip, looking away from the cold blue eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“‘S’fine,” Dabi mumbles. He perches on one of the stools and shoves the bottle in Keigo's son waiting mouth. The crying that had decreased into quiet sobs disappears totally as he drinks the milk like his life depends on it. Which was probably the case.

Keigo slumps on the kitchen island, burying his head between his arms, enjoying the quiet. He starts to fall asleep without even realizing and startles when Dabi talks again.

“So? What’s the story?”


“God, when was the last time you slept?”

Keigo frowned. “I don’t know. I had a twenty minutes nap at some point last night. Um --”

Dabi winces. “That’s rough. It’s your son, right?”

Keigo bristles, alarmed. “Why do you say this?”

“Dude, your dumb face is practically copy-pasted on this baby. Plus the wings. It’s not rocket science.”

Keigo drops his head back on the kitchen counter. “Whatever.”

“What are you going to do?”

Keigo grunts. “Why do you care? It’s not really your problem, Staples.”

“Come on Birdie, I’m invested now. So?”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t want him to grow up alone but I’m not sure I’m fit to raise a kid on my own.”

“I can see why.”

Keigo glares at Dabi from his spot. “Fuck you.”

The cheeky grin the villain gives him is infuriating. Everything about Dabi is infuriating. His lazy confidence, his smart mouth, the fact that nothing seems to shake him. Bastard.

But after months of crappy meetings in back-alleys and late nights in shitty bars where they stopped talking about business after a few drinks, Keigo found himself thinking about the villain a bit more than necessary. It was probably his loneliness pushing him to cling to anyone showing him a bit of attention, beyond the hero’s facade.

Dabi is clever and has an opinion about pretty much anything and everything which has pushed them to argue more often than not but Keigo likes their banter. Something about Dabi not being impressed by the rank of Number 2 hero is pleasant. Refreshing.

And now, the villain is standing in Keigo's place, invades his territory and holds his son, and Keigo finds that he doesn’t mind at all. Or he’s just too exhausted to think straight.

“Go get some sleep, Chickenshit.”

“And leave you alone with my chick? Hell no.”

Dabi rolls his eyes, amused. “He’s safer with me than you, Daddy.”

Keigo squints his eyes. “Why you do this anyway?”

“Told you, I’m in a good mood. Go.”

The offer is more than tempting. The idea of closing his eyes and enjoying the quiet for more than two minutes is already filling him with bliss. He gives up. After one last look at his son still drinking, eyes already half-closed, he flies to the couch to take a nap. He’ll be able to think after it.

Just a quick snooze.

He’s out like a light as soon as his head touches the pillow.




3 months later

“You better have a good reason to wake me up in the middle of the night, Birdie.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t know what to do. Hayate keeps on crying and I tried everything and….”

A sigh.

“I’ll be there in 20.”

When Keigo opens the door, Hayate red with exertion cradled against his bare chest, Dabi can’t help but stare, his gut twisting in a way he refuses to acknowledge. There’s no room for this. Whatever ‘this’ is.

He’s spent more and more time with Keigo and his kid lately. It gave him some feeling of normality, because despite everything standing between them, Keigo's company is enjoyable.

Keigo has slowed down his hero’s activity to take care of his son, falling from number 2 to number 56, dropping his double-agent act, dropping everything.

The Hero Commission has thrown a fit, but Keigo told them to go and fuck themselves, that he had more important things to do.

Dabi has felt oddly proud when Keigo told him about it that night, sipping on his beer, hands slightly shaking but a satisfied and relieved smile softening his sharp features.

Dabi removes shoes and jacket.

“I’m sorry,” Keigo mutters. “Not even capable of dealing with my kid on my own...Talk about a father.”

Dabi clicks his tongue and takes Hayate in his arms. “I know plenty about shitty fathers, you ain’t one, Birdie.”

He turns his attention on the crying baby. His wings had gotten bigger, puffy white down feathers adorning them now. His hair had grown a bit too, looking more like his dad’s windswept mane. “Yo fuckface. What’s the problem tonight?” he cooed. He’s only answered by more cries.

Keigo follows him to the couch, staying close, concern on his face. “Do you think I should call a doctor? Maybe he’s sick?”

Dabi runs a finger on Hayate’s gum and smiles when he feels something pointy scratching the flesh. “No need. Teeth.”


Dabi nods. “Yup.”

Keigo has already his phone’s out, black talons clicking on the screen as he searches for a solution. “I’m going to the pharmacy. Be right back.”

Dabi snorts as he watches the former Number 2 running to the balcony and flying away, only wearing a pair of shorts. The hashtag #hotdad is not about to die out anytime soon.




5 months later

Keigo is rushing through Tokyo night sky, propelled by his wings, but he’s not fast enough. He just wants to be home. To make sure everything is fine.

The babysitter had dumped him tonight, apparently too sick to come and watch over Hayate, Rumi was not available either and Keigo couldn’t cancel his interview without being murdered by his manager. And honestly, he didn’t want to cancel it. It was important. Talking about being a father and a hero, about the struggles and the choices he has to make since Hayate arrived into his life. It was a good reminder that heroes were still normal human, that they still have the right to lead a normal life besides their work. A good message he wanted to get through while his popularity was not completely dead.

But Keigo didn’t want to leave his son with some random strangers his manager offered him to call. So he has called the only other person he trusted enough to take care of his chick for a few hours.

Dabi has bitched about it, of course he has, but as usual, he showed up right on time, with a scowl on his face and snarky comments on his tongue.

The scowl has disappeared as soon as Hayate has started babbling at him, chirping and cooing, visibly happy to see his favorite babysitter.

The soft face Dabi always has every time he looks at Hayate makes things to Keigo's heart. Things he refuses to acknowledge. Because it’s stupid and hopeless.

He lands quietly on the balcony and slides the door as silently as possible. The living room is dark, save for the blue light cast by the TV screen.

He shrugs his jacket off and removes his boots and pads quietly through the room. He freezes next to the couch, eyes wide and heart melting into a puddle. Dabi is fast asleep on the couch, an arm dangling on the floor, the other tightly wrapped around the small frame of Hayate. The chick is curled on Dabi’s chest, face squished against the black t-shirt and wings spread like a tiny, fluffy blanket.

This is…

...This is way too cute for Keigo's weak heart.

What did he say again about how stupid it would be?





7 months later

“Hey! Dabi, Dabi!! Look at that!”

Dabi squints suspiciously at Toga. The girl is literally bouncing toward him, a cat-like smile stretching her lips and revealing her fangs.

“Look at what, Cheshire?”

She practically shoves her phone in his face with a giggle. “Your favorite hot dad is a Twitter trend again!”

Dabi tries to keep a blank face but it’s hard as he looks at the picture of Keigo and Hayate displayed on the phone. It’s obviously a stolen picture since Keigo is not smiling, he just looks...well normal.

Hayate is tucked against his father’s chest, tiny fist clenched around the hero’s shirt, asleep. One of Keigo's wings is outstretched to protect the baby from the sun.

Dabi’s heart flutters.


Toga pats Dabi’s knee with a knowing smile. “It’s okay. No one is going to judge you.”

Dabi frowns. “There’s nothing to be judged about.”

Toga shakes her head, amused. “Baby sisters always know best, you know?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and if you keep saying nonsense, I’ll withdraw your baby sister’s privileges.”

Toga snorts. “It’s too late! There’s no take-backs! So! When will you introduce us to Hot Dad and cutie pie?”

Dabi groans and goes back to his glass of whiskey and half-finished cigarette.

God, she’s so annoying.

Especially when she’s right.




9 months later

Keigo yawns widely and slouches deeper in the couch, barely able to focus on the movie on the TV screen. He’s warm. He’s cozy. And it’s peaceful, now that Hayate has finally fallen asleep after they gave him some medicine to ease his fever. The day has been long and exhausting. Keigo doesn’t deal well with his chick being sick. It breaks his heart every time he hears him cough like he’s going to lose a lung.

The only bright side of this is that Dabi has come over, just to check on them and didn’t leave.

“Don’t drool on me, Birdie. I have enough of your kid ruining all my good shirts.”

“‘You don’t have any good shirts, Staples,” he mumbles.


“Mmmh.” His head drops on a bony shoulder as he tries to make sense of what’s happening on the screen. He yawns again and nuzzles Dabi’s shoulder. He’s so warm. His presence is like a balm for Keigo's nerves.


He doesn’t want to talk. He wants to sleep. “What?”

“Look at me.”

Keigo groans in displeasure and raises his head. “What do you--mmmph.” Dabi’s lips are warm and soft and a total surprise. Said lips leave his too quickly. Keigo blinks, confused. “What was that for?”

“I wanted too,” Dabi answers with a half-shrug, smug smile curving his mouth.

“You wanted to kiss me?” Keigo stares at Dabi, confused. He’s not sleepy anymore. On the contrary.

Dabi’s smile softens just a bit and it makes things to Keigo's stomach. “It’s been a while now.”


“Why not?”

Keigo is at a loss of words.

The smile falters. “What is it Birdie? You don’t like me?”

“What? No! You just took me by surprise.”

The grin is back, wider and smug again, pulling at the staples. “I love me some sneak attacks.”

Keigo shakes his head. It’s a bad decision but bad decisions are kind of his area of expertise. “No more sneak attack. Kiss me again, coward.”

Their second kiss lasts longer and goes deeper. Keigo ends up in Dabi’s lap, kissing him senseless, with a hunger he hasn’t felt in months. Dabi answers his kiss with equal eagerness, his hands slipping under Keigo's loose tank top, pulling him closer. Keigo hums his appreciation against the hot mouth, fingers tangled in the thick raven strands. He pulls slightly to deepen their kiss and the soft moan Dabi lets out lights up his blood on fire.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, a voice tells Keigo that this is a mistake. A huge mistake. But he doesn’t care. He can’t care when Dabi’s fingers play with his feathers in just the right way. He spreads his wings wide, to give more access to the other man.

God, it’s been so long since someone gave him attention like that. Keigo basks in it, like a lizard in the sun.

They part lips, breathless, and Keigo drops his forehead against Dabi’s, eyes still closed. He feels good here. Better than anywhere else. He feels strangely safe in the arms of one of the most wanted villains of the country.

“What is it Birdie?” Dabi’s voice is hushed and soft.

“What are we doing?”

“Stop that.” Dabi pecks his lips. It’s sweet and affectionate.

Keigo's eyes flutter open. He loses himself in the summer-sky eyes for a while, his talons scratching slightly Dabi’s scalp. If it was only him, he would say fuck it and takes whatever he can take, consequences be damned.

But it’s not just him. Not anymore. “Dabi…”

The villain sighs. “I know.” He tightens his embrace around Keigo's waist. “Let me just have tonight.”

He should be the responsible one. He’s a dad, he should know about responsibilities. But Dabi’s arms around him makes him feel like goo, his breath against his collarbone as he buries his face in Keigo's chest gives birth to a swarm of hysterical butterflies in his gut.

Keigo is weak. And maybe a bit in love with the villain who has been here for him since Hayate was dropped in his life, for the man who mysteriously knows how to deal with babies.

Dabi is a riddle. And Keigo loves him even if he shouldn’t.

He nuzzles Dabi’s hair, reveling in the scent of cigarette smoke and fire. “Just tonight.”

After those words escape his lips, Keigo forgets everything. His world is just one scarred man in his arms, hands mapping new territory, soft words murmured like secrets in the quiet night.

Just one night. Just a few hours stolen from reality.




One year later.

“Make sure he doesn’t try to fly from too high, his wings still aren’t strong enough. And don’t let him stay awake too late. Oh, and here, this is his favorite plushie. He can’t sleep without it, remember? And for the love of god, don’t let him play with your knives!”

“Birdie, chill.”

Keigo winces and turns his head toward Dabi who looks at him with a fond smile. “But…”

“Come on, Kei-chan, it’s not the first time I babysit Haya-chan.” Toga nuzzles Hayate’s cheek and the chick coos, his little hands pulling on the blonde strands. “Right Haya-chan? We’re going to have fun!”

“You’re going to be late, get out of here.” Tomura’s tone is annoyed as he stands next to Toga.

“But Bossman…,” Keigo tries.

“Out, I said. You got places to be, stuff to do. We can handle your gremlin for a night.”

Dabi’s hand grab Keigo's and drags him outside. “They will be fine, stop worrying Daddy Hen.”

“I know, I know. But still...What if something happens to us? We never know…”

Dabi slings an arm around Keigo's shoulders and squeezes. “First: nothing will happen to us. We’re going out on a date. Second: even if something does happen, Hayate is safe. He has his family to take care of him. Tomura is a dick but he will never let anything get to Hayate, you know that.”

Keigo relaxes slightly as he leaned against Dabi’s side. “Hey…”


“You remember when we said just one night?”


“It was one year ago.”

“Oh…Well, I guess we lied.”

Keigo snorts. “Yeah, it seems so.”

“Do you regret it?”

Keigo stops Dabi to kiss him. “Nope. I love you.”

Dabi rolls his eyes but his face is soft. “You’re such a sap.”

“My best trait.”

“Your ass is your best trait.”

Keigo bursts out laughing. “Flatterer.”