Like the Tide, Comfort will come

by Crossroadsfossil

Summary:

Dabi's attempt at recruiting goes badly and he manages to piss off the wrong doctor. He doesn't know what the doctor's quirk is, but he's cold and nauseated and the only thing that's really having any sort of positive effect is Hawks' hand on the small of his back.

Prompt:
Dabi gets hit with a cuddle quirk and has to wait it out with the league. Part one of a series of negative run-ins with a doctor who keeps hitting Dabi with the same quirk.

Chapter 1: Dead in the water

---

The streets of the city were empty this late at night. The trains had ceased running and even the bars were winding down. There was no one on the street that he could see, nor hear any approaching footsteps.

Then again, that wasn’t uncommon for this part of the city. Doubly so at this time of night.

He scowled and pulled out his phone, checking the clock. If his source was correct this time, someone should have been approaching. They had a meeting, not that they were aware of this impending encounter. That was their fault, though.
He had tried to play nice.
Tried to meet with them in more agreeable surroundings.

They had declined each time.

Unfortunately, neither he nor his boss would take ‘no’ in this situation. It was Dabi’s turn to set the conditions, and if he decided that the prime location was an area where no one would notice or care that there was a new soot stain… well…

He’d given the man multiple opportunities. How serendipitous it was then that the areas Dabi preferred for his ‘recruitment interviews’ intersected with the paths this man used for his ‘work’.

Dabi’s attention was pulled suddenly by the sound of an empty can being kicked, the sound echoing down the street. He peered out of the alley he was lurking in, looking for the clumsy person who made the noise.

Surprisingly, Giran’s information finally came through. It was the man who had been refusing his outstretched hand for a week.

He was an average-looking man, with dark, slightly overgrown hair and broad shoulders that reminded him of Natsuo. Unlike Natsuo, this man leaned more towards the bulky than fit. He must have some muscle hiding beneath his coat though, since the backpack he carried hung low on his back, no doubt weighed down with numerous supplies.

This was the doctor that Shigaraki wanted him to recruit.
He didn’t look like much.

Go figure.
Of all the bullshit tasks that Shigaraki asked of him, this was the most annoying one he had been put to. They have a doctor. He’s a creepy motherfucker, but he answers when called. Also, if memory served, this was the doctor that had cared for Shigaraki since the guy was born. He was doing a good enough job keeping them in one piece, since no one seemed terribly maimed after their ‘jobs’.

As far as Dabi could tell, Shigaraki wanted a new doctor because this one kept leveling pointed barbs about how inadequate he was compared to ‘sensei.’ If Shigaraki couldn’t handle a little razzing from an old fart like that, then he was going to be in for a surprise once he started tearing down society.

Then again, there might be another reason. If there was, Dabi didn’t know it. Shigaraki didn’t exactly divulge the whole plan to Dabi, not that Dabi was around the base that often. As far as he knew, it could be Shigaraki wanting a backup, in case the heroes got ahold of Ujiko. Or he could just be hedging his bets, since two doctors and a second opinion are better than letting one creepy fucker make all the decisions.

Dabi seriously doubted that. If the freak was actually thinking ahead, then it’d be a first.

The requirements were simple, at least. Or they were on paper.

The doctor was supposed to be devoid of any gang or hero affiliation, which was a nigh-impossible task in this part of Japan.

The latter requirement ruled out most doctors.

Past experience told him a good portion of potential doctors and other healthcare workers didn’t mind working with villains. Hippocratic oath and a desire to help others and shit. The problem was that most of them had ‘additional’ funding from one or more heroes.

It was a clever way for them to gather information. The police would turn a blind eye to a doctor who worked with villains so that a snitch network could be set up and then information would be funneled to the affiliated heroes, or the police if the ‘villains’ weren’t high-profile enough.

Unfortunately, this ruled out the ‘quirk-accident assistance centers’ that he had used in his youth. You could get away with going to them if you were an unknown villain and not worth a photo-op, but even Spinner would get reported now. If those weren’t tied to a hero, they were tied directly to the HPSC. Dabi had suspicions that it was so they could scout for ‘potential recruits’.

In the rare instances where a clinic or doctor was affiliated with neither, then they were up the local prefectures bureaucratic ass, which had its own set of problems. If you were lucky, they’d sedate you and call the police while you were out.

This left Dabi trying to find any care worker (forget finding a doctor) who wasn’t affiliated with a gang. He was left with a very, very short list.

This specific doctor didn’t appear partnered with a hero, nor a gang, nor another villain group. That didn’t mean that he was without metaphorical lines drawn in metaphorical sand. Rumor around this part of the city indicated he had a particular taste in the clientele he served.

Particular tastes usually meant the doctor traded in drugs or parts or people, or he asked for ‘favors’.

If you were lucky, it would just mean the doctor was a bigot and wouldn’t serve heteromorphs. If only they were so lucky. Sure, it’d suck for Spinner, but Dabi wasn’t too terribly heartbroken about it.

Unfortunately, the doctors’ tastes didn’t stick with the usual fare. Dabi hadn’t cared to learn what they were, just that it didn’t include the league.

Shigaraki had asked Dabi to get this man to ‘reconsider’ through any means necessary. Being polite hadn’t worked so far so it meant that it was time for Dabi to apply a more hands-on-fire type of approach.

---

He was panting by the time he cornered the doctor. The doc had led him on a merry chase, but there was nowhere for the man to go now. He was stuck in a dead-end alley with Dabi standing between him and escaping.

Dabi grinned, watching the man’s eyes widen as he lit his palms on fire, letting the flames lick up his arms as he started slowly stalking towards the man.

“Listen, I don’t-” The doctor starts. His voice is softer than Dabi expected. If he wasn’t so annoyed with the doctor, he would say it had a soothing cadence to it.

“You had your chance.” He hissed, “Don’t worry. After tonight we won't be bothering you ever again.”

The man visibly gulped, bringing his hands up. Not into fists, like he expected, but palms flat and facing each other, a small orb of water spinning into existence. Dabi watched as the orb grew until it was about the size of a melon then stopped, apparently reaching the upper limits of his quirk. Dabi scoffed. As if something that small would be a match for his flames.

“This would have been so much easier if you simply-” Dabi’s gloating was cut off as the orb smacked him in the face. His flames sputter as the water drenched him, a surprising volume despite the size of the orb. His surprise is quickly replaced with anger and the flames roared back, hotter than before.

Dabi glared at the doctor as the water burned off, sending plumes of steam and the scent of cooking flesh billowing around him. Instead of looking dejected or terrified, the doctor looked… pleased? Too pleased for what little he had done.

“What the fuck was that supposed to do? Did you really expect to-” He choked on his words; the muscles in his throat locking up like they were encased in concrete. To his horror, the feeling started spreading to the rest of his body. With the creeping paralysis, his flames too began to die down, then winked out completely.

The doctor didn’t leave; he watched until the steam had disappeared from around Dabi, leaving only the scent of the alley and Dabi’s own flesh. He let out a sigh and relaxed as Dabi’s legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground.

He expected one of the million depraved things that went through his mind as the doctor approached with the tentative footsteps of a deer. He expected the man to slit his throat or to strangle him. He expected the man to knock him unconscious or drown him with the orb water. He didn’t expect the doctor to raise his hands to Dabi’s face. They were free from weapons and from his quirk.

Fingers ran over his face, gentler than Dabi expected, inspecting the areas where the water had hit and steamed off. The beginnings of burns were starting, no worse than one he would have gotten from the sun on a summer day. The doctor tutted over it though, like it was an injury worth tutting over.

His inspection quickly moved to his seams, fingers pressing against first the healthy skin, then the scar tissue. A careless finger brushed against one of his staples and the doctor let out a soft hiss of pain. Dabi would laugh if he could.

Apparently content with the inspection of his face, the doctor moved his attention to the rest of Dabi, picking up a limp arm and turning it this way and that. He paid special attention to where the purpled scar tissue met with the relatively undamaged skin of his hands. Fingers press against the seams hard enough to cause a twinge of pain to shoot up his arm and the beginnings of blood to pool in the fissured skin.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you’re not taking care of this…” The doctor muttered. If he expected Dabi to provide an excuse, he was shit out of luck. The doctor didn’t seem to want one, pulling away and shrugging his backpack off and onto one shoulder, swinging it around so he could rummage through it.

Dabi waited, letting his eyes drift to other things in the alleyway. If the doctor was going to pull out a knife or a gun and attack him with it, he’s better off staying as loose as he can. In his experience, tensing up only makes it worse.

Dabi didn’t expect the doctor to pull out a jar covered in wax cloth and tied shut with purple twine.

He knows that salve.
He used to get it from a doctor he saw… before he joined the league.

The doctor applied the salve to the newly burnt skin. Dabi wanted to tell him not to bother since it would’ve healed up fine. It wasn’t like he was new to burns. Unfortunately, the paralysis still had him in its grip.

The doctor quickly swapped it out for another jar, this one differentiated by the blue-green color of the twine. Instead of the burns, he slathered this onto the visible seams of his wrists and face, paying special attention to his jawline.

“You need to keep this area taken care of. The mouth is a horrible bacteria pit… It’s not that I don’t want to help you… I can’t.” The doctor stated, putting the jars away and giving an appraising look at his work. With a nod, he rummaged around his bag, pulling out a roll of brown-linen bandages that smelled strongly of herbs.

“Please tell Shigaraki-san that I politely decline, and I do mean ‘politely’. I do not wish to cause any offense. In another world, I might have agreed to help, but I have people depending on me. If I involved myself with the league, I’d be putting them in danger. I refused to do that, and I refuse to destroy everything I’ve worked on to make this world a little better.” The doctor said as he wrapped Dabi’s hands, tucking the ends in carefully. He manually flexed Dabi’s wrists, checking the mobility before nodding to himself again. Dabi is vaguely curious when the doctor starts rummaging through his bag for the third time.

“Since you’re been persistent about this,” The doctor seemed to give up his search, shrugging the backpack onto his shoulders again. He started to pat himself down, frowning as he did so, “I will give you a list of colleagues that will assist you. Some might even be willing to join the league… just as soon as I-”

The doctor let out a triumphant cry as he produced a pen and what looked like a receipt. He quickly scribbled a short list onto the back of the receipt and leaned towards Dabi. Dabi tensed as he felt a hand slide into his back pocket. The doctor quickly pulled back, hands raised up in an attempt to pacify.

“Sorry! I’m not trying to feel you up. I just put the list in your back pocket. The paralysis will wear off in about a minute or two. I suggest you call someone to come pick you up, immediately. You’ll need a friend during the weekend…”

The fuck did that mean?

The doctor made a hasty escape down the alley. In his paralyzed state, Dabi couldn’t watch which way he went, he only heard the footsteps growing fainter with each second. With each step the doctor took, it seemed that the grip on his muscles loosened more and more. As predicted, it was only a minute or two before Dabi had control of his limbs again.

He surged to his feet, fully intent on chasing after the man and roasting him. It didn’t matter that his muscles felt like jelly, he was going to destroy the man. He was an idiot if he thought a few minutes of paralysis would give him enough time to escape. What a shitty fucking quirk.

Dabi made it two steps out of the alleyway before he realized the doctor’s quirk wasn’t just water and paralysis.

Something dark slithered into the cavity beneath his lungs. Dark and cold. Cold enough that he shivered. Dabi wasn’t used to feeling cold, not with his inherited affinity for it and a fire quirk. He shivered, feeling the frozen oil-slick sensation seep into the surrounding areas of his body. It doesn’t take long for his breathing to grow labored.

What the fuck did that doctor do to him?

If Dabi ever saw that doctor again, it would be too soon. Then again, if he ever saw him again, he was going to burn him until he was nothing but a pile of greasy soot, and he was going to make sure it took a long, long time. He may not have the stamina to use his flames in a prolonged manner, but he did know the best way to apply them, and he was damn good at controlling them. He could make it last all night.

He shivered again, harder this time.

He coughed, trying to dislodge the mass and shed its cold weight. It didn’t work, the frozen-oil feel of it growing heavier as he stumbled backward. He could practically feel it spreading through his organs, making its way towards his limbs.

Shit.

He rubbed his chest, pulling fire into his palm. Maybe he could melt it out? Just enough for him to be able to breathe deeply. To keep him from wheezing and allow him to make it back to the flat he was crashing in.

The heat helped for a moment before his chest was filled with pinpricks of hot pain. He yanked his hand away from his chest.

Alright, that didn’t work.

Maybe it was like frostbite - you had to warm up the area slowly? He flexed his hand, the fire returning and then growing with a mental prod. The fire was slow to creep up his arm, but it crept and as it did, it chased the cold away.

He might actually be able to make it to his flat, as long as he kept burning. It would be a long walk, too long for him to keep his flames constant, but maybe if he alternated which arm was on fire he could make it?

Hell, the league base was technically closer… Maybe it was time he availed himself of the doctor they had. Have the creep take a look and figure out what the fuck was going on with this quirk.

He looked at his arm and wrinkled his nose. That was probably the best plan. He could already smell his skin cooking and undoing any of the benefits from the salve the doctor had applied. The bandages are already charred and starting to fall away…

Something didn’t feel right.

He felt his staples pulling at the frown as he stared.

Wait…

He… didn’t feel it.

Normally if he can smell himself cooking, he can feel it. It wouldn’t be the first time he managed to kill off nerves, even permanently so… but that didn’t seem right. Usually, when nerves died off, they affected patchy sections of his skin, not a whole limb. When nerves died, he usually felt some sort of numbness, at least initially. Right now he felt… nothing.

He doesn’t have long to ponder the lack of pain; his flames started to flicker while he stared. No matter how hard he mentally pushed at his quirk, he wasn’t able to force additional power into his flames. Dread pooled in his stomach nearly as cold as the ache already there as his fire continued to die. Finally, his fire gave a last spluttered flicker and extinguished itself.

He tried to relight his flames, but with each attempt, he felt his quirk slipping further and further away, replaced by a cold pool of ink.

He took one step backward, and then another until his back collided with a wall of some dark-windowed building, sliding to the ground as shivers wracked his frame, growing worse with each breathe.

Dabi’s come to the realization that he’s not going anywhere while this quirk is in his system, and it seemed like he wasn’t going to be able to use his own quirk.

He’s fucked if anyone finds him.

Chapter 2: Across the Pond

Summary:

Dabi gets found by one of the last people he wants.

He’s not sure how much time he spends sitting in the alley and shivering. His mind was too caught up in keeping what was either a panic attack or a heart attack under control. He only came back to himself because something was vibrating against his right hip. He heard a muffled, but cheerful tune from roughly the same area.

It occurred to him that it was probably his phone.

He fumbled for the device and managed to silence it with numbed fingers. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Even if he did, he doubted he’d be able to say much between the chattering of his teeth.

The ID on his phone read ‘Fried Chicken’.

The fuck did Hawks want? They had a meeting two days ago where Hawks had handed over some documents that, in all honesty, Dabi hadn’t even gotten around to looking at yet, let alone handing them to Shigaraki. The bird was just going to have to deal with being ignored for once. It would do someone like him good. The world wasn’t at his beck and call.

He slid his phone back into his pocket after what felt like minutes of floundering. The one upside to Hawks calling was that he could refocus on what he needed to do. He needed to get somewhere safe and protected. Having the hero call him reminded him that while heroes weren’t common on this side of town, they did patrol it occasionally. That schedule was probably in the file he’d ignored.

He initially wanted to go to his apartment, but his flat was a solid forty-minute walk from here. The league base was closer, but he wasn’t keen on the idea of waiting out the effects of the quirk in the company of those idiots, nor spending it in a relatively unknown place.

The oily mass in his stomach lessened at the thought of the base. It was a noticeable enough change that abruptly made his mind up. To the base it was; if it stayed like this, he could hobble his way to the base.

He struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the building as he took several staggered steps to the alleyway entrance. So far, so good.

His pocket began to vibrate again. He ignored it and the annoying tinny song, letting it ring until it went to voicemail. It vibrated again, letting him know someone had left a voicemail.

Dabi braced himself against the storefronts as he made his way down the first block, and then the second. It hadn’t gotten any easier and he felt the sweat dripping down his back and face, yet he was still freezing.

His pocket began to vibrate and sing.

Again.

He hoped no one was out who could hear it, and he especially hoped the bird would get a fucking clue. His phone fell silent for a moment before giving another voicemail vibration.

He froze as a shadow passed overhead.

He... probably should have looked at the patrol schedules Hawks had given him. There was a slim-to-none chance that this was Hawks; it was likely that it was one of the lesser-known heroes that could fly, and he was acutely aware he was in no condition to fight.

The shadow circled around again, and this time he was able to make out wings and heard the familiar sound of wingbeats.

Apparently, his luck hadn’t quite run out yet. Hawks landed in front of him with a small bounce in his landing. He took a few hurried steps towards Dabi, and his wings flapped once as if they were shaking out wrinkles, then folded tightly against his back. It made them look deceptively small.

“Hey Dabi, I called you- what happened?” Hawks asked sharply. “You look like shit.”

“Color me shocked. Is this any different from how I usually look?” Dabi snarked back. He would freely admit he looked like shit, even on the best of days. He was covered in scars and held together with staples, even if his wounds had healed up. Hawks had certainly made more than a few corpse and zombie jokes. Granted, it wasn’t like Dabi didn’t make those same sorts of self-deprecating jokes himself, and Hawks did wait until Dabi had started both with the death jokes and the chicken jokes before giving as good as he got.

Instead of replying, Hawks dropped his gaze to Dabi’s arm, then raised it in a pointed expression. Dabi refused to look down, to check what Hawks was looking at. He knew what the hero was looking at.

His arm was probably still smoking - he could certainly still smell the fresh-cooked odor he exuded when he overused his quirk. Hell, for as aggressive as he had been using it, while he could still use it, his skin was probably peeling up along the edges. He would definitely need to replace staples on his arm; some had definitely melted off.

Dabi stared Hawks down, daring the hero to actually say something about it. Hawks didn’t need to; Dabi broke first, body seizing in a shiver that was stronger than ever. He had to lean against the bricks of the storefront lest his legs give out again. When he looked up, ready to hurl words at Hawks, he was met with and silenced by a look of intense, and sincere, concern.

It irritated the hell out of Dabi.

Dabi pushed past Hawks, ignoring the looks the hero sent him. He needed to get back to the base. At the very least, he could crash on the couch and sleep off the quirk.

Instead of taking a hint, Hawks fell into step besides Dabi. Dabi watched out of the corner of his eye as Hawks slowly stretched out a wing. For a moment, it looked like Hawks was going to wrap it around one of Dabi’s shoulders. Instead, it hovered, not quite touching him. He was probably waiting to see if Dabi was going to light them on fire.

Months ago, when they first started having meetings, Hawks hadn’t quite believed his threats until Dabi had set more than a handful on fire. Ever since, whenever the hero would get this close, Dabi would quickly remind him that he didn’t do close contact with people in general, and he certainly didn’t want the hero to get too friendly with him.

He distantly hoped that Hawks wouldn’t notice the lack of flames tonight, but Hawks was a lot more perceptive than he let on.

As if to prove him right, Hawks let his wing fall.

Ever since he’d been hit with this quirk, he hadn’t been able to feel much of anything. Touch was dulled more than it usually was. His flames didn’t hurt, and he wasn’t expecting the explosion of sensation where the feathers brushed against what should have been numb skin.

He shied away from the feathers like they were electrified. He didn’t want the hero to touch him… unfortunately his actions backfired on him, leaving Dabi rammed into Hawks’ side in his haste.

The numbness gave way to a wave of warmth and unfamiliar comfort, washing over his frame and quelling the shivers. The sudden outpouring of heat is as startling as feeling his quirk siphon away. His knees buckled. Hawks quickly wrapped an arm around his back, providing support to keep him standing.

It’s humiliating.

Humiliating, and yet, the cold was gone, and he finally understood why people piled blankets on and buried themselves beneath a kotatsu during the winter. Being cold sucked. He sinks into that relief. He’s vaguely aware that Hawks’ grip is on a patch of newly-burnt skin and that he should be in some sort of pain, since he knew he hadn’t done enough damage to kill off the nerves there.

He didn’t care. He was warm and comfortable and-

He remembered that it was Hawks he was practically swooning against, the hero asking a question he didn’t hear.

He threw himself away from the hero, hissing as the oily-iciness resumed residence beneath his lungs. It expanded over his organs just as quickly as it had faded away. He could feel it start inching its way into his joints.

“Shit. You did get hit by a quirk, didn’t you?” Hawks asked as Dabi leaned against a nearby wall. "What is it? Who-"

He cut the hero’s questions off with a sharp look.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Dabi gritted out. The cold was worse than before. More persistent. He was used to persistent pain. This shouldn’t be bothering him as much as it was. Why wasn’t this fading into the background like it usually did?

He needed to get back to the base. Dabi pushed off the building, stumbling forward a few steps until he managed a shuffling gait down the street.

He didn’t hear Hawks’ following him. He hoped it meant the hero had decided to let this be and leave him alone. He was quickly disappointed, hearing Hawks’ wings flap and feeling the wind from them. A moment later, Hawks landed and fell into step next to him.

One of Hawks’ hands slid up to rest between his shoulder blades and a wing curled over and around him. Dabi would have snarled at Hawks, but it was like a switch had been flipped. The cold started to fade into the background again.

Was this how the quirk worked?

He sped his pace, which Hawks unfortunately met. He looked over, catching Hawks watching him sideways through his visor. Unlike his routine ‘jovial’ watching that Hawks usually did, this look was almost predatory. There was none of the routine boredom in his gaze, the one that implied he was only looking at Dabi because he was standing there. No, this look was focused, with pinprick eyes that watched every movement. Analyzed everything.

He bristled at the realization, lips curling up in a sneer and shrugging Hawks’ hand off. Hawks tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, but the wing that was loosely curled around Dabi pulled tight against his shoulders. It wasn’t pressing him to the hero's side, but it could. He felt Hawks’ long feathers hook into the hem of his coat, while the medium-sized ones caught on his sleeves and slipped into one of his pockets. He felt feathers tickle at his neck and collar of his coat, his shirt.

“I thought you were a bird, not an octopus.” Dabi hissed, swatting at the wing. When it gave him an affectionate squeeze he snarled at Hawks, anger boiling up. He was sure the hero could see his displeasure. It wasn’t like he was masking his feelings at the moment.

Hawks didn’t look angry, though. He didn’t look scared either, which is what he should have been, since in any other situation he would have set the bird on fire by now. No, Hawks looked concerned. Worried even. The hell was he even worried abo-

“Please let me help.” Hawks stated, interrupting Dabi's thoughts and meeting Dabi’s glare. Dabi opened his mouth to reply, but Hawks held up a hand. “I know you don’t want help, but you’re clearly not doing well. You don’t know what this quirk is, and we both know I can’t exactly take you to an accident clinic… so just… Let me help. Please. I can drop you off. No questions asked.”

“No.”

“Dabi, please just-”

“I get motion sick.”

“Wha-Really?”

Dabi remained silent as Hawks pondered over this information. He wasn’t feeling too terrible at the moment; With Hawks’ wing curled around him, he almost felt normal. He was still queasy, his stomach swaying with the pulses of nausea, but he could ignore it. The pain had retreated to an ignorable level, as well. Hawks being in direct contact with him seemed to actually be helping.

Not that he was ever going to tell the bird this.

“Get your feathers off.” Dabi flicked at one of the particularly obnoxious feathers curling around his arm. The feather tightened its grip on him and then slowly relaxed. To his surprise, the rest of the feathers slowly followed suit, with the wing pulling away entirely.

Hawk folded it tightly against his spine. He almost looked embarrassed.

“You can fuck off now.” Dabi prompted.

“Can you make it back to wherever you’re staying?” Hawks countered. Dabi opened his mouth to reply that, yes, he could get back and didn’t need an escort to the league. Not that Hawks was going to learn he had decided to stay with the league; No one else needed to know that while the league were assholes, they were trustworthy assholes that he knew what to expect with.

His answer was cut off by a ripple of nausea that told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to make it by himself. Something must have shown on his face because Hawks was pressing back into Dabi's space, his wing curled about him and his hand coming to rest on his lower back.

It was uncomfortably intimate, and he hated how it immediately helped.

Not only had Hawks jumped back in close, despite the potential for him to end up covered in vomit, but he wasn’t giving Dabi any sort of pitying or disgusted looks. If anything, the hero was giving him one of the most open expressions he’d seen from the man, and most certainly one of the most sincere.

Hawks had also broken out ‘please’ multiple times in the last five minutes. It wasn’t often the hero pulled out the polite talk, especially not with him. It sounded unexpectedly sweet coming from his lips.

It was the warm hand on his back that cemented his weakening resolve. He was warm and it wasn’t like it was a long walk away. If he kept close to the hero, he wouldn’t even need to worry about being seen by another hero. His bigass wings could certainly obscure him from view. It would be nice not having to worry about getting attacked.

Hawks’ large, near-desperate puppy-eyes had little to do with his resolve melting away. Not at all.

He told Hawks where they should head.

---

Hawks is more clever than he likes to let on, much to Dabi's relief. Instead of staying on the main streets, Hawks quickly coaxed him down one of the alleys and through a labyrinth of backstreets. Initially, he was concerned because, even with Hawks being so close and the frozen-oil of his core had lessened, they weren't moving as quickly as he would have liked. His previous confidence about being obscured by feathers also diminished as they walked, with the wings seemingly growing smaller with each street.

Then it hit him.

The wings were smaller because Hawks was sending them to scout ahead, making sure they’d remain undisturbed along their trip.

What a disgustingly useful ability.

Hawks’ hand doesn’t leave the small of his back, and the heat it radiates keeps most of the chill away. The only time it stops is when the door to the base opens and Twice is wrapping Dabi up in a hug.

His normal reaction would be to squirm out of Twice’s arms and grumble about it, but at this point, he’s tired enough from the walk that he’s willing to tolerate the affection for a few moments. It also gives him the chance to watch the League’s reaction as they size the hero up. It’s not the first time they've met, but it is the first time Hawks has been at this base.

Hawks does a good job of not obviously trying to look around.

The sizing up quickly turns into inquiring looks between Dabi and Hawks. He can already see the probing questions starting to bubble up in Toga’s grin, and he decides he’s lingered long enough, although he does take an additional second to shoot Hawks a warning glare. The bird better not say anything. Judging by the overly cheerful poster-quality grin Hawks shoots him, the message is received.

It’s also probably ignored as he immediately gets pulled aside by Shigaraki and the two start talking in low, whispered tones.

Dabi wriggled out of Twice’s arms, ducked under Toga’s attempt at her own hug, and side-stepped Spinner.

He's still trying to reach the stairs as Hawks left. Hawks' gaze found him again, shooting another smile and a jaunty wave before disappearing outside again.

Dabi sneezed and resumed his struggle towards the stairs.

---

Notes:

AN:
Hawks this entire chapter: oh shit oh shit oh shit fuck is he okay why is he shivering is he actually cold what the hell oh shit oh shit what do I do i can’t take him to a hospital. This is fucked. Im fucked. Shit shit shit.

We’re ignoring the probability that most of the storefronts Dabi and Hawks were walking front of would probably have some form of a security camera. For the sake of this story, they don’t, and if they do, the business owners have decided it’s not their problem.

Also, everyone is wrong. It’s not just a ‘contact’ quirk. ;)

Not just anyone can touch you and ease the effects. It’s a little more… insidious and adorable than that.

Edit: I am desperately looking for a beta for the last chapter of this fic and the first chapter of the next fic in this series. If you're interested, leave a comment or join my in the discord below.

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Chapter 3: Come on in, the water's fine

Summary:

Dabi gets left behind by Hawks and cuddled by the league.

Dabi has to come to terms with the fact that he's more comfortable around them than he realizes.

AKA Dabi gets some sleep and snuggles and the league are endeared by their grumpy little street cat.

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Dabi didn’t even manage to make it to the stairs before he was accosted. With Hawks’ departure, the league’s attention quickly refocused on him. Hawks had definitely said something incriminating to Shigaraki. As touch adverse as the man was, he was the first to do so. If Dabi still had full use of his quirk, he would have set Shigaraki on fire for it.

He didn’t, so he made do with the next best thing and leveled a glare at him. Shigaraki didn’t seem bothered by the look.

Gratifyingly, Dabi saw Spinner hesitate to approach. Unfortunately, it was a short-lived hesitation. Spinner, and the others, noticed that Shigaraki wasn’t being set on fire or otherwise rebuked for touching Dabi. They may not know why he was being physically affectionate, but they didn’t seem to care too much. Twice immediately threw an arm around his shoulder and Toga plastered herself to his front, wrapping him in a hug that made his ribcage creak.

It took ten minutes to shrug everyone off, and most of that was setting up a fight between Toga and Spinner. Dabi slipped away amid the flying knives and shouted insults.

Having spent several minutes feeling no ill effects, and then ‘boosted’ by the short bout of touching, he thought he could get up the steps and into a bedroom. He couldn’t even manage half a flight of stairs before the shivers returned. Much like before, they felt colder than they initially were. He forced his way through it; it wasn’t the first time he’d fought through discomfort. He almost made it too, but he stumbled on the top step and slammed into the opposing wall.

Dabi waited a moment, anticipating a call from the others downstairs at the noise. He didn’t get one and only heard something breaking and a shriek of outrage from one of them. His money was on Compress, since he had procured this hideout and was more keen than usual on not destroying it.

Dabi braced himself against the wall and started for the first room he feels comfortable face planting into. Here’s the thing about the current base: Dabi wasn’t terribly familiar with it. He knew that there were about three rooms you could sleep in, although two of them were barely bigger than closets. He knew that Toga, Spinner and Shigaraki all stayed here full-time since they didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. He had no idea where Twice and Compress stayed. Originally, he thought one of them used to stay with Magne, but since she’d died… well he hadn’t bothered to ask.

The room at the end of the hall (of course it’s the end of the hall) looked the least lived-in and stumbled his way to the futon, where he collapsed into the center of its lumpy softness.

Shivers wrack his frame hard enough that his muscles are sore after a few waves. He tugged on a blanket, intending to throw it over himself and sleep out this quirk, but it doesn’t budge. It takes him a moment to realize he was half laying on it. He huffed in annoyance and rolled over. Fuck it. He would simply make do with what he had.

He wrestled with the blanket until part of it was wrapped around his core. It wasn’t much, but hopefully, it would help soothe some of the chill; it doesn’t. Before long, he’s shivering harder and in waves that are growing ever closer. It’s bad enough that he’s reconsidering coming to the league’s base. He probably should have bullied Hawks into taking him back to the hero’s place- make the bird play hot water bottle all night. Granted, that might not be completely off the table if he could get his phone-

Warmth floods his system so quickly it feels like a burn; It feels too warm and too bright and too sudden, and all of his past experiences of warmth like this told him that the sensation promised after isn’t one of comfort.

Instead of the usual pain and ruddy heat that follows such a sensation, it only simmers down into a humming toastiness that’s almost nice… Like having a cat purring against you thigh. It took an uncomfortably long time for his brain to thaw out and to connect the dots.

Dabi cracked his eyes and immediately saw a pair of slippered feet kicked up on the end of the futon. The warmth along his back was solid and judging by how the warmth runs from shoulder to past his hip. Whoever it is, they’re one of the taller members of the league. He glanced over his shoulder.

Mister Compress.

It was irritating, no… infuriating how pleasant it felt. Usually, physical contact tended to make his skin crawl; sometimes quite literally.

His staples have never been to make him look scary.

It’s not just that it feels nice. No, what’s worse is that the warmth is so pleasantly familiar that it reminded him of the days when he used to nap on the porch with Natsuo. Memories like that are meant to stay interred deep underground, not get dug up like a badly buried body.

“Would it be better if only one of us was around at a time?” Compress asked, a book already in hand and opened to the first chapter. It didn’t look like something Mister Compress would normally read, but what did Dabi know.

Compress looked up from his book as if he could feel Dabi’s eyes on him. Eyes that, for once, were unhindered by either of his masks. Dabi didn’t see his face often; Compress usually wore his plate-like mask around them most of the time, and even when he shed that, he still wore a balaclava that muted his expressions. It made him incredibly difficult to get a read on. Relying on body language didn’t work with Compress either, as he was quite aware of what his limbs were doing and often exaggerated or minimized movements, depending on which would benefit his ‘presentation’ best.

This was the most stripped-down he’d ever seen the man, and was probably the most stripped-down Compress could get. Not only were both of the masks gone, but so was the hat, which was always within arms reach. His coat was also conspicuously missing, and usually, when he shed that, it was somewhere in the room with him. That coat had enough pockets to hide an entire body in pieces in it… without the use of Compress’ quirk.

Hell, the man was in a pair of slippers that were obviously his with how well-worn they were. His gloves were gone and even the vest was absent. The shirt he was currently reclining in had seen better days. If this was any other man besides Compress, he’d be making some unsavory assumptions. Instead, Dabi was more focused on the detailed stitchwork he saw along some of the seams. It was repair work and he wanted to know if Compress had done it himself… No, this was already too informal and friendly for his liking.

“I’d rather sleep alone,” Dabi grunted. He pulled his feet up, curling into a ball and rolling back over to face the wall. Behind him, Compres tutted and reached down, plucking at Dabi’s shoes.

“Well, Hawks mentioned something about getting hit with a quirk and that you shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Fuck that.” He was going to roast the chicken the next time he saw him.

Compress heaved out a sigh. “Dabi, I watched you fall up the stairs thrice and trip on your feet getting into the room. Do you even know whose room this is?”

Dabi grunted in lieu of giving an answer and admitting that he didn’t know whose room this was. Since Compress asked, it probably belonged to one of the three usual suspects.

The laces of his boots loosened, courtesy of Compress’s repeated plucking. He didn’t give the man a chance to take them off, kicking his boots off with little care of where they landed. Dabi ignored the man’s muttered scolding, curling as tight as he could.

He needed to sleep this quirk off; if he was lucky, Compress would get bored and leave him alone - No, that wouldn’t be ideal. Out of all the people in the league, Compress was the one he trusted the most, followed by Shigaraki. He didn’t want to fall asleep and let his guard down around any one of them, but between the two, he’d choose Compress. Compress was the most likely to either sleep himself or read or do something equally quiet. Shigaraki would just play one of his video games. The others… he trusted them about as much as he trusted his quirk to stop hurting him. At least one of them would fuck with him. Spinner would, without a doubt, take the opportunity to kill him and Toga would see it as an open invitation to carve him up. He didn’t know what to expect with Twice. Best not to chance it.

Now that his shoes were off, Compress didn’t seem inclined to instigate anything further. The only noise in the room was the occasional flipping of pages and the distant noises from the floor below as the rest of the league did gods only knew what.

Thankfully, Compress didn’t make a comment as Dabi pressed closer before he nodded off. He understood that Dabi was only doing it to keep the effects of the quirk from waking him up. That’s all it was. Just due to the quirk.

He had just closed his eyes and evened out his breathing when something startled him, jerking him into full wakefulness. As Dabi sat up, he noticed Compress was on his right, offering apologetic reassurances as he got to his feet, joints creaking and popping. Compress swore under his breath, but Dabi didn’t pay too much attention to it, too busy trying to calm his racing heart, despite this being one of only a handful of times the man had ever sworn in his presence.

He tried to summon his quirk, knowing that being able to defend himself would ease some of his body’s fight or flight response. He can feel faint flickers of his quirk beneath his skin, but nothing substantial yet. Still, it reassured him, since it was far more present than it had been before his nap.

He’s actually surprisingly warm, considering that Compress is no longer touching him - the man’s hovering by the doorway to the room and stretching. Another bone pops. It sounds like something in the man’s back.

Dabi is startled for the second time in as many minutes as someone nudges his knee with their own. Dabi twisted and stared at Spinner, feeling jet-lagged and bleary in addition to the spikes of alarm.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty. I suggest you go back to sleep.” Spinner said with a half-laugh. He must have settled on Dabi’s other side while he wasn’t paying attention. Fucker was sneakier than he remembered.

He was slow to react as Spinner reached out and ruffled his hair. On one hand, it felt nice and he was tempted to lean into it and bask in the warmth and pleasantness; on the other, it was Spinner and on that principle alone, he was insulted and wanted to punch the lizard.

“Fuck off,” Dabi grumbled, a compromise between the two. Spinner flipped him off and focused on the game system in his hand. Dabi squinted as he tried to place where he’d seen it before, noting the stickers that were faded and half-rubbed off. There’s a faint crack running underneath the left handhold.

“Is that Shigaraki’s?”

From the threshold of the door, Compress bit off a laugh. Spinner either didn’t hear or completely ignored Dabi’s question. It wasn’t worth the effort or the energy to repeat the question, so he flopped backward, staring up at the ceiling. The ceiling showed the age of the building, with spots of either water damage or some nebulous fluids from the tenants upstairs.

At some point, someone, probably Compress, had adjusted the blankets so that he was no longer laying on them. There were more blankets than he had started out with when he struggled into the room. Despite the extra blankets, he can feel the cold creeping in again. Spinner is sitting just shy of touching Dabi; just far enough away that there’s a break in contact for the quirk to exploit.

Dabi eyed the gap between them, weighing his options. He could simply suffer… or he could move over and press up against Spinner as he did with Compress. He’d rather not… besides… His feet are cold so he can kill two birds with one stone. Or with a block of ice, as his brother once called them. He shoved his feet under Spinner’s legs, relishing the surprised yelp and subsequent muttering.

Fucking served the lizard right.

Spinner glared at him for a moment, which Dabi met with a look that dared the man to do something about it. Spinner rolled his eyes and returned to his game.

“You’re a fucking menace.” Spinner commented. It doesn’t sound caustic like their interactions usually do. It almost, disgustingly, sounds fond. A second later, Spinner wrapped an arm around Dabi's shoulder, yanking Dabi against his side. Warmth spreads from where they're touching and nausea he hadn't noticed creeping in fled. This was entirely too casual and affable for Dabi’s comfort, even if the quirk demanded it. Dabi batted at Spinner’s arm until the man retracted it.

"Yeesh. As bad as my sister." Spinner said. Sister? Interesting. Did she look as ugly as he did?

"You have a sister?" Dabi inquired. As far as he knew, everyone in the league was an only child.

"Yep. Older by half a dozen years." Spinner said, flicking one of the gaming controls.

"Makes sense you were an accident." Dabi hissed. Instead of taking offense, Spinner actually laughed.

"Yep." Spinner returned, sounding pleased. "And I continued to wreck her plans for the next twenty years."

Dabi rolled his eyes. Of course, Spinner was proud of something like that. He wondered if Shouto took as much glee over destroying the trajectory of someone’s life.

“So where are the others?”

Spinner’s game let out a soft noise as he restarted the level. “Compress ducked out to get food for everyone and to stretch his legs. Toga’s down for a nap. I think Shigaraki and Twice are trying to get more info on the quirk you were hit with.”

“They could have asked,” Dabi said. Spinner snorted.

“Yeah. I told them to wait until you woke up since, you know, you were there but they didn’t want to sit around doing nothing. They should be back in a few hours.”

Idiots. They should have just waited. It wasn’t like he was out for that long. He leaned against Spinner, partially to annoy him and partially to see what time it was. The screen’s upper corner indicated it was only about four, maybe five hours since he left to hunt down the doctor. Dabi estimated that it only took an hour and a half to find him, and maybe another hour to get back to the base, so that meant he was only asleep for two or so hours. Compress was a fucking old man if he needed to stretch his legs after that.

“Comfy?” Spinner groused, rolling his shoulder. In spite, Dabi dug his chin into it, eliciting a yelp from the heteromorph. “Fucking asshole- You an only child or something?”

Dabi didn’t reply and it didn’t seem like Spinner expected an answer. After a while, Dabi felt his eyes growing heavy, lulled by the repetitive, soothing music of the game and the surprising amount of body heat Spinner was giving off.

He didn’t notice when he fell asleep.

The next time he woke, he almost set someone on fire.

Almost, was the keyword.

Notes:

This chapter got longer than I anticipated. One more chapter before the end of this part of the story. There's more parts planned out with Dabi having interactions with this same doctor, because Hawks needs his Dabi cuddles too. ;D

Also, to clarify, the quirk only abates when you're touching someone you trust or have a similarly strong bond with. That'll be touched upon more in the next part, since it rapidly becomes a lot more clear and more relevant. It also means Dabi's in for a very uncomfortable realization in his future.

Also, I like giving Spinner an older sister. He seems like the sort who would have a sibling. I have an entire dossier on her because I fleshed her out for another fic (or two).

Chapter 4: Breaking the Ice

Summary:

Dabi gets sick, gets snuggled, gets some sleep, and gets some team bonding in. Reluctantly.

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Toga shrieked and scrambled away; she hadn’t been burned, but it was a close one. Panic thrummed in his chest, but there was an underlying sense of joy at the fact that he could summon flames at all. It was short-lived as fingers of cold clenched down on his lungs and heart at the thought of how close Toga got to being injured by his flames. She probably wouldn’t have burned as badly as he did, but still- He hissed as the cold suddenly made it harder to breathe and sent him into a fit of coughing.

“Whoa, hey. Dabi, it’s okay! I’m fine! I shouldn’t have startled you awake but I really thought you were a heavier sleeper than that and Spinner needed a break and-” Toga rambled, stopping as soon as Dabi’s eyes met her. Guilt and worry were stamped across her face. Her eyes flicked over his face, down and up again before keeping eye contact. Slowly, her concern melted away. Her lips twitched, and then she started laughing, crawling next to him and pressing against his side. The oily feeling trickled away, and he was going to attribute the quirk to the fond, warm feeling he had. That and the fact that Spinner looked annoyed and was muttering something as he knelt and plucked at the singed bedding.

“That is entirely her fault,” Dabi said with a grin. Spinner’s face dropped into an annoyed frown as he stared at Dabi. Dabi’s smile widened, and instead of an angry outburst he expected, Spinner just huffed and got to his feet, leaving the room without another word.

Now that Dabi’s fully awake, he’s aware that he has a pressing need for the bathroom and something to drink. That, and how Toga has an uncanny ability to shove all her sharp bones into his side. There are more blankets on him than when he fell asleep. He’s not sure who dropped them off, although judging by the tasteful gray and thick material, it’s probably something from Mister Compress’ room.

“Get off,” Dabi grumbled, elbowing Toga in the side. She ignored him and tightened her grip on his arm. He shoved a hand in her face and lit it up. The flames didn’t linger long, spluttering as soon as they lit and extinguishing themselves quickly. Toga rolled her eyes, a gesture that struck him as uncomfortably familiar. He shoved Toga again and she finally let him up. He tried to thrust the memories of Fuyumi doing something similar out of his mind. It was just a girl thing. Nothing more.

He managed to get to the door before Toga reattached herself to an arm. In that short time, the quirk crept back into his limbs and then just as quickly was chased away by Toga’s presence. He wondered how long it was going to last. The doctor mentioned something about having someone during the weekend and he hoped the doctor meant a day, not two or three. This was the longest he’d been around any of them in at one time, and he had been asleep for most of it. He wasn’t sure he could handle an entire weekend of Spinner and Toga. Especially Toga. She was already rambling about Spinner’s game and ‘self-care’. He couldn’t follow any of it.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to say anything when they reached the bathroom. She rambled, louder as if that would spare either of them the embarrassment as he tried to use the bathroom in peace. As soon as he finished washing his hands, the shivers worsened to full-body shakes.

Toga abruptly stopped talking, eyes narrowing into an expression he’d really only seen on her when someone either ate her food or she was seriously considering stabbing someone. If she stabbed him, he was going to kill her. Quirk or no quirk.

Instead of stabbing, she dug her fingers into his arm, dragging him after her. He stumbled several times, only kept upright by Toga, who was surprisingly strong for a girl who wasn’t even a hundred and sixty centimeters tall. She practically threw him into the futon, nearly pouncing on him to tuck him in before wedging herself against his side. Humiliatingly, Spinner was frozen on the other side of the futon, watching Dabi get manhandled by a kid. It looked like he had been in the middle of organizing a supply of drinks, snacks, books, and games into neat piles.

“What?” He hissed, trying to glare at the mutant.

“Nothing dude. Toga’s fucking terrifying.” Spinner commented, fussing with the supplies until Toga got fed up with him. She leaned over Dabi, grabbing Spinner by his waistband and yanking him onto the futon. Spinner yelped and started squabbling with Toga, who started in him not 'taking Dabi's illness seriously.'

Dabi lets it wash over him, only vaguely noting when their arguing changed to actual conversation. Thankfully, neither expect him to contribute to it. His passive listening changed to active dozing, falling in and out of awareness as they talk, and after a while, start gaming. Spinner's mostly on one of his handheld systems and Toga's playing a game on her phone, although it's one Spinner's familiar with as she's peppering him with questions and he's answering her with a sureness Dabi's rarely seen outside of gaming.

He can’t deny that being snuggled between the two of them, most of the cold is gone (and the worst of it), presumably chased away by their presence. He’s starting to get an idea of what the specifics of the quirk are. He knows it involves touch. He’s hoping it’s just touching, and not something more specific than that. Gods, he would hate it if there were additional conditions. Then again, there weren’t a lot of people he could go to for casual touch. Like hell he was going to ask anyone he considered an acquaintance. Hell, if Hawks hadn’t escorted him here, he wouldn’t have come at all.

It might be contingent on how the people around him feel about him. Every time Toga did something disgustingly affectionate in response to the shivers that would wrack him, like lift up one of his hands to manipulate the joints of his fingers or flip over his palm and make bullshit comments about what the life and heartlines, the quirk would… weaken. The oily feeling would retreat and the cold would evaporate away. Even Spinner would occasionally reach over and ruffle his hair and gods. That brought back memories he’d rather forget. He hated how it felt… nice.

Spinner’s room doesn’t have windows and his phone has long since died, despite the fact he keeps habitually checking it. The only way he realizes it’s early in the morning is due to Spinner scrubbing a hand over his face and muttering about the time. Toga’s half-sprawled on him, with her head using his shoulder as a pillow and an arm slung over him like he’s a large teddy bear. How she finds that comfortable, he’s not sure. He knows he’s vaguely uncomfortable, mostly due to the close proximity but partially due to the fact that both he and Toga are almost entirely bones.

“Hey,” Dabi grumbled, flopping his head to the side so he can look up at the lizard without disturbing Toga. “Wake her up. She needs to go to bed.”

“You do it.” Spinner shot back, his console powering down. He leaned over, fishing out a handful of cords and plugging the game system in to charge. Spinner’s hand flaps in Dabi’s face.

Dabi stared at it. “I want your phone.” Spinner prompted, looking unimpressed.

“It’s already dead. Don’t worry about it.”
“Dude, hand me your goddamn phone or I’m fishing it out myself-”
“You do and you’re dead-”
“Still less dead than if your boyfriend gets worried abou-”

“Who the fuck do you think is-”
“I’m not going to judge but-”
“Oh no, you do not-” “He’s hot but you have shit taste in men-”
“We aren’t-”
“Listen, no judgment-”
“That sounds a lot like judgment-”
“Okay, a little-” “I swear to-”

“Dabi. Hand Spinner your phone.” Shigaraki’s voice interrupted their bickering. Both of them shut up, Dabi turning his glare on the pale-haired man. Shigaraki looked unimpressed.

Dabi felt someone reaching into his pockets and was ready to snap at Spinner when Toga’s hand dropped the phone onto Dabi’s chest. Spinner quickly snatched it up, smothering a laugh as Toga sat up in a way that could only be described as ‘floppy’.

“You two are loud.” Toga whined, rubbing at her face.

“And you need to go sleep in your own bed,” Shigaraki said. Toga murmured something incomprehensible and got up, slinking past Shigaraki only to spin on her heel and wrap him in a sleepy hug and then stumble off. The room was quiet as Shigaraki stood, processing what happened.

“What, not used to hugs?” Dabi goaded. Shigaraki flipped him off.

“Big talk from a man who was her teddy bear two minutes ago.” Shigaraki hissed back, dropping onto the futon where Toga had been and shoving his feet under the blanket.

“Where’s my game system?”

“Charging.” Spinner said, eyeing Dabi as Shigaraki got comfortable. What, was the lizard afraid he was going to start something?

Shigaraki didn’t seem terribly put out by the fact that he didn’t have his gaming system, pulling out his phone and immediately navigating to a video application.

“How much do you know about bird-quirks?” Shigaraki asked although Dabi wasn’t sure who he was directing the question towards.

“Not much.” Spinner answered with a shrug of his shoulders, “There used to be a guy I went to school with who had a bird quirk but…” Spinner averted his eyes, something he always did whenever he didn’t want to discuss part of his past, especially when it dealt with something heteromorph-related.

“Then I guess all three of us are watching bird documentaries tonight,” Shigaraki stated.

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They got through two documentaries before Spinner tapped out. Actually, he started falling asleep, using Dabi’s shoulder as a pillow; he had his fill of that with Toga. He wasn’t anyone’s damn pillow anymore. Thankfully, Shigaraki woke Spinner up and persuaded him to fucking leave.

“Gods, about time he went back to his own bed.” Dabi snarked as soon as he was out of the room.

“Actually,” Shigaraki drawled, “He’s heading to my bed.”

Dabi’s eyebrows arched. Shigaraki returned the expression, daring him to say anything.

“Are you two-”

“No, we’re just in his bed at the moment. This is his room.” Shigaraki clarified. He looked amused as Dabi’s face scrunched up in distaste. “Hand me the gaming console.”

Dabi watched as Shigaraki booted up the slice-of-life game. It was apparently one with a plot of land that he and two other people shared. He asked who the other two were since the houses looked vastly different than NPC houses.

“Toga and Spinner. You want to join?”

“I’d rather replace every staple on my body.”

“Valid.”

“You should fuck up the trees,” Dabi suggested. Shigaraki looked at him out of the corner of his eye. On the screen, his character went over to the tree and cut it down. Dabi’s lips twitched into a grin, mirrored by Shigaraki. He spent the next hour watching Shigaraki methodically remove every tree on the other two farms and replace them with what looked like rose bushes. Shigaraki commented that it takes a gold shovel to remove them, which neither Spinner nor Toga had. Dabi almost laughed.

“So, who hit you with the quirk? The doctor or someone else?”

“Hawks didn’t say?” Dabi slid down so that he was laying on the futon and closed his eyes so he didn’t need to look at Shigaraki.

Of course, he didn’t. He didn’t know anything.

“He mentioned it was a quirk that seemed to be better if there was some… ’physical contact’ involved.” Shigaraki tried again. There was so much emphasis on those two words that he could practically hear the air quotes around them. The next time he saw Hawks, he was setting the man on fire. He didn’t need to phrase it that way. It made it sound like Dabi had gotten hit by a-

“Please tell me it’s not secretly a fuck quirk you’ve been holding at bay.”

“No, it’s not a goddamn fuck-quirk. Like hell, I’d come here if that was the case. There’s a perfectly serviceable bar down the road. And I’ve got people to call.”

“You have fuck buddies?” Shigaraki asked. Dabi cracked an eye, glaring at the man. Shigaraki shrugged like it was a valid question. Dabi kicked at Shigaraki’s shins, although he was honestly trying to hit the man’s kneecaps. Shigaraki kicked back and for the next few minutes, they traded fairly gentle blows with half-smiles on their faces and soft huffed laughs.

“So what really happened?” Shigaraki finally asked, retrieving his gave from where it’d fallen off of his lap. Dabi’s previous mirth trickled away. He rather hoped he wouldn’t be asked to elaborate on the night. Mostly because it was humiliating. Shigaraki elbowed him.

“The doctor you asked me to find wasn’t interested and politely declined.”

Shigaraki’s eyebrows rose

Dabi scowled. “That’s what he said. He was very emphatic about the whole ‘polite’ thing.”

Shigaraki’s face continued to do strange things.
Which reminded him.

Dabi wriggled into a seated position and twisted around to get at his back pocket. He pulled out the note the doctor had slipped into it. It was wrinkled, but otherwise still legible, or as legible as the handwriting of a doctor could get. He handed it over to his boss.

“He suggested any one of those names,” Dabi said. Shigaraki wasted no time in unfolding the paper and Dabi immediately leaned over to see if he recognized any of the names. Two of them immediately stood out and he mentally eliminated both of them.

One he knew. He knew her quite well and was disinclined to introduce her to the league since there was a very real possibility that she’d reveal something he didn’t want to be revealed just yet. He wouldn’t put it past her to ruin his plans out of spite.

The other wasn’t a bad guy, he just had this habit of working with pre-med and medical students. He’d trade ‘unorthodox training’ for free and sometimes illegal labor. He was affiliated with the school his younger brother went to, and if Natsuo kept to his childhood promise, he’d be starting to study medicine about now. That was a chance he didn’t want to take.

Hopefully, Shigaraki would choose neither of them and instead pick one of the remaining three. Dabi had never met any of them, but they were known to him by word of mouth.

He waited as the minutes ticked by. The only reason Dabi wasn't wondering if Shigaraki had fallen asleep reading the list is that Shigaraki’s eyes are still open and he can see the red slide down the list then jump to the top of the page and re-read the names. Again and again. Dabi was about to ask if Shigaraki had ever learned to fucking read when the man heaved out a sigh and pocketed the list, muttering about dealing with it later.

Safe to assume that this topic was tabled for the night. Or another night. If Dabi was lucky, it would be tabled for several days and by then he’d be away from the league and wouldn’t be roped into the decision-making process. He gave no shits who the league saw.

As long as they didn’t see his doctor. That would open up too many questions he didn’t want to answer. Ever.

He startled as Shigaraki suddenly dropped a hand on his shoulder, awkwardly patting it before yanking it away like he was burned. Dabi felt a flicker of anger before it was smushed, literally smushed away by Shigaraki tilting and leaning against his side. The change in how he felt was alarmingly stark.

His stomach, which had been twisting ever since he got hit with the quirk, was suddenly calm. The not-quite nausea that had apparently been plaguing him was gone. Just. Gone. He didn’t want to inspect that too deeply.

He was enjoying the almost buzz it gave him though. It was like the days when he could get ahold of the really good pain medication after heavy-quirk use days. He sighed and thumped his head against the wall. Shigaraki shot him a concerned, questioning look, which was followed by a longer one. Like he was assessing Dabi. Or reassessing him.

“The quirk. How bad is it?” He asked. Dabi gave a shrug with the shoulder not being leaned on.

“I’m fine.”

That didn’t get Shigaraki off his back like he had been hoping; Shigaraki continued to stare at him, eyes narrowing, not unlike the way Kurogiri would do when he was displeased with one of them.

Dabi really disliked when Shigaraki looked at him like that. It usually meant he wanted to know something.

Here’s the thing, when Shigaraki wanted knowledge, he didn’t come at it head-on. He only rarely asked. He was surprisingly indirect, considering who his nanny had been. Back when Kurogiri was still here, he’d made a comment about wondering where Toga went late at night. Granted, it was something all of them wanted to know and none of them wanted to admit to wanting to know. Kurogiri had asked later that day.

It only grew from there. A lot of the time he would just sit and stare, usually at a wall or out a window, or if it was something he wanted to know about the person, he’d stare at them. He’d usually figure it out, twisting the puzzle pieces of data he had until he had a picture ready. If it was a person he was trying to figure out, staring at them long enough would usually creep them out enough to cave.

Dabi had a theory. It was Shigaraki’s red eyes. Most people found them unsettling. Dabi had initially found them unsettling until he spent half of a night drinking and staring back, trying to see who would blink first. Dabi was still convinced the man could sleep with his eyes open. Despite the abundance of quirks, there weren’t a lot of people with eyes the shade of red Shigaraki had. Hell, since joining the league, the number of people he’s seen with red eyes had tripled. Then again, so had his contact with villains. Red eyes unsettled people (and considering he’d seen more villains with red eyes than civilians or heroes, he was pretty sure there were some biases involved).

Regardless, it meant that if Dabi didn’t say anything, then Shigaraki would ask questions, first directed at Dabi, then he would go out and physically find the answers he wanted. Probably starting with the list in his hand. Dabi didn’t particularly care for fielding and deflecting questions from his boss all night. He was less inclined to let the man go out and search, especially if Dabi was stuck in the base because of this stupid fucking quirk.

Minutes dragged by. Shigaraki was quiet… was it his boss giving him an opening? Allowing him the chance to control the flow of information? If it was, Dabi might die of shock. Shigaraki paid close attention to things, but he didn’t always use what he learned constructively. Maybe this was a first. Or maybe it was just because Dabi was part of his ‘league’ and was allowing a little kindness. Not likely, in this group of theirs. It was probably more a gesture of goodwill or an attempt at keeping the peace once the quirk wore off and Dabi could be angry and combustive again.

Dabi groaned and thumped his head against the wall again.

“Have you ever been out in the snow too long?” Dabi asked. Shigaraki nodded against his shoulder, pulling at the staples. He didn’t feel any pain, thank you weird quirk, but in any other situation, he would have punched the man. Or set his hair on fire.

“It’s like… A slow, creeping chill except it's from the inside and its slush-water and not just cold.”

“Is being around us helping?”

Dabi grimaced, not pleased with having to talk about it. “It’s… Not debilitating.”

Shigaraki didn’t need to know that the nausea had a distinct oily feel to it, coating his throat and stomach and feeling like it was oozing through his abdomen. And he couldn’t tell Shigaraki that the cold wasn’t a quick freeze, like falling into a snowbank. That was sharp and quick and while it could be painful, it was easy to ignore. Easy to treat. He’s familiar and practically desensitized to that sort of cold; all three of his siblings had ice-quirks and since their father ignored them, they didn’t have fine control over it until later.

He, Natuso and Fuyumi squabbled horribly as young children. He’d gotten into enough fights with Natsuo with fists and wrestling, but Fuyumi was the one who learned to weaponize her quirk first. He wasn't sure if she’d naturally stumbled into it or if she’d done research. Even as a child, she was always searching out information. Always watching with huge gray eyes. As she got older, her approach got subtler while Natsuo’s got more precise. He’d freeze your shirt to the ground to tickle you or freeze your drink all day when mad at you.

Fuyumi wasn’t nearly as overt in her anger. She took a long time to anger, and it took a long time to thaw her anger and her quirk use reflected that. She’d lower the temperature in the whole house, especially after their housekeeper retired. They could feel the coldness in their bones, despite all of them having their mothers’ constitution. You could sometimes watch the pond out back start to frost, ice creeping towards the middle from the edges.

That was actually a good way to describe how the quirk felt. It felt like a pond icing in the middle of summer. The contrasting temperatures made it worse and you could only keep to the center of the pond, swimming and hoping it stopped since you had no other way to flee. It wasn’t like he could sink beneath the water like a fish or fly away like the waterfowl; you could only watch a potential death you could do nothing about except dread its approach.

“I see. How far?”

Dabi stared ahead, reading into the question.
How far could he get in the event of an emergency.
How worried does he need to be.

Dabi knew what Shigaraki was asking; after the first three base changes, Shigaraki had started keeping track of that sort of thing. The first three were near-disasters each time. Dabi wasn’t good at that sort of planning, but he could see dangers ahead of time, and tried to make sure the boss did too. Between the eight of them, they had enough skills and hard-won knowledge that they were actually getting better at this.

One hero was here, and while Dabi had more or less vouched for him, it was a hesitant and unwilling voucher. Neither he nor Shigaraki was confident that it wouldn’t end in a raid.

Then again, considering how fussed Hawks had been and the fact that he’d probably slept a solid six hours, a raid wasn’t likely to happen.

Still. Plan for the worst and all that jazz.

“Probably the here to the door.”

“Of the room?”

Dabi gave a quick nod, shame and embarrassment curling in his gut, hot enough that it probably could have fought the chill if he’d been alone.

Shigaraki didn’t respond to Dabi’s words, only unpausing his game and picking up where he left off.

Shigaraki doesn’t comment, only unpauses his game and starts playing. The only sound in the base is the occasional creak from someone downstairs in the kitchen, judging by the noises it’s probably Compress making tea, and there’s someone coming out of the bathroom. They don’t pass by the room so it might be Twice crashing in one of the rooms further down the hallway.

Dabi is on the edge of dozing off again when Shigaraki makes another statement, pulling him harshly from a sleeping void.

“You said you were over by the Eriadu district.”

“Yeah. I was hunting down that doctor.” Dabi said; he’d told Shigaraki this before he left.

“That’s a lot further than here to the door,” Shigaraki said casually. It immediately set Dabi on edge.

“And?” Dabi growled, just daring Shigaraki to continue down the path he was insinuating. A smile flickered across Shigaraki’s face but was tempered back into one of neutrality so face Dabi could almost reassure himself he’d been seeing things.

“Just making sure my sense of time and distance wasn’t off,” Shigaraki said mildly. He waited for the man to continue, but to his surprise, Shigaraki didn’t seem inclined to pry. Apparently, that was tabled for later as well. That was fine by him.

He didn’t want to have a discussion about the nebulous relationship with Hawks, let alone have to explain the weird fucking mind games they were playing to a man who thought the best way to topple hero society was murdering all the heroes, when it was so clearly more than that. It was destroying the concept of heroes entirely, and to do that they needed information. Data. Evidence.

He especially didn’t want to explain that he only managed to get back to the base because Hawks either had an arm around his waist or a hand on the small of his back. Both gestures being far more intimate than those he usually tolerated from recruits. He would have torched Hawks if he thought the hero meant anything by it. Hawks was a flirt and since he met the league finally, he was probably going to turn that charm on them as well.

Actually, that might be funny to watch. Toga would react with her brand of flirting and be worth a chuckle and maybe placing a few bets with Compress and Twice. He might actually make popcorn so he could watch when Hawks tried to flirt with Shigaraki.

Since it seemed that their conversation was over, Dabi stole Shigaraki’s discarded phone, pulling up another documentary.

---

---

Dabi woke from a mild dream, a rarity because he didn’t have mild dreams. He also didn’t usually sleep sitting up, either. One side of his face was buzzing with pain from where the staples were digging in. There was the telltale sensation of something crawling over his cheek that told him he had probably pulled at least one out and was bleeding.

Dammit.

He sat up, rubbing a palm up his face. It came away red just as he noticed what, or rather, who he was sleeping against. Shigaraki was sitting next to him, head tilted back and mouth open, the smallest of snores coming from him. Beyond him, Twice was crouched, a convenience store bag by his feet as he looked at Dabi’s phone.

“What are you doing?” Dabi asked eyes narrowed in on the phone. Twice looked up, mask twisting into a familiar smile as he handed it over.

“Checking its battery! Fully charged! And your boyfriend texted. I didn’t read it though!”

Dabi snapped the phone out of Twice’s hand, checking the messages. Two from a contact, one from Giran, and another from ‘chicken feathers.’ Hawks’ message wasn’t that interesting, a simple inquiry to see if he was okay and that he had an update of the files Dabi asked for. It was sent after his phone died, and hours later there was another wishing him a good night.

“Oh, I also brought food!” Twice said, picking up the plastic bag and rummaging around in it. “You feel like eating?”

Dabi shrugged, wary of what Twice was pulling out of the bag. Several onigiri were dropped into his lap; in all likelihood, they were going to be fish. Tuna-mayo or shredded mackerel. He flipped one over, pleasantly surprised when the label proclaims it to be pickled plum. The other onigiri is a pickled vegetable medley.

“Oi, don’t look so surprised! You should be though! You’ve mentioned how much you hate fish. It’s up there with Spinner’s driving!” Twice said, face puckering into what could either be sincere or mock outrage. It’s quickly forgotten as he pulls out several onigiri for Shigaraki.

As quickly as he arrived, Twice is gone, presumably off to deliver food to the rest of the league. He took a small nibble of the onigiri. It didn’t send his stomach roiling, so he took a larger bite. The vinegar-sharpness of the filling was a pleasant taste, although the texture of the convenience store rice left much to be desired.

“He forgot to bring drinks,” Shigaraki grumbled at his still-wrapped food. One of those was the standard tuna-mayo filling, along with one with red beans. Shigaraki looked up, frown deepening as he looked at Dabi. “I want to go get something.”

Dabi was about to snark back, but Shigaraki cut him off. “I’m asking if you’re going to be alright if I go downstairs for a few minutes.”

“Go along, princess. I’ll be fine.” Dabi said, unwrapping his second onigiri. Shigaraki sighed, as if dealing with Dabi exhausted him. It probably did. Dabi didn’t exactly kiss his ass like Spinner and Twice, nor did he baby him like Compress.

“What do you want to drink?”

“If we have any barley tea, that. Or a bottle of water.” Dabi said, biting into his last onigiri and almost groaning with how good it was. He knew it wasn’t- convenience store onigiri wasn’t great. He was probably just hungry. Gods, when was the last time he ate? He couldn’t remember. A day ago? Or would it be two now?

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Shigaraki said, slinking out of the room and taking the warmth with it.

Dabi easily finished his food before that minute passed, and he was seriously eying the red-bean onigiri as the five-minute mark crept by. He’s almost come to a decision on whether or not he wants to court Shigaraki’s wrath by stealing it when his bladder makes itself known again. How, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he had much to drink during the last day. Maybe that was another side effect of the quirk .Ugh.

Then again, this would be a good time to make a break for the bathroom without needing a humiliating chaperone… and the shivers haven’t returned. If he can make it to the bathroom and back, then he might actually be able to make it back to his own apartment in a few hours.

He managed to get halfway to the bathroom before he noticed the faint tremble in his legs. By the time he reached the bathroom, it’s progressed to an intermittent tremor. That’s fine though. He can handle a few minutes of shaking and shivering if it meant he could take a piss in peace.

---

---

“What happened?” Shigaraki said, squeezing the bridge of his nose and taking those slow, measured breathes that reminded Dabi of Kurogiri. Hell, the man probably tried to teach him it in an effort to encourage patience.

“Dabi got sick!” Twice tattled, easing Dabi back onto the futon. “You deserve it! You should have waited for us!”

Dabi didn’t bother trying to sit up; he flopped over like a wet noodle, trying to curl under the blanket despite the shivers rattling him down to the bone.

“I-I w-went t-t-to t-take a p-piss. He’s ove’-reacting.” Dabi stuttered, grimacing through the words. His anger at the doctor was reignited; after he was feeling better, that man was dead.

“I heard you vomiting!” Twice said, almost shouting. Dabi flipped him off.

“You’re hearing things.”

“Nope!” Something, or rather, someone, landed hard on Dabi’s ribs. Small fingers dug under him until he was clutched in a hug. The smell of body spray and iron and shampoo filled his nose, as did Toga’s large, yellow eyes as she squeezed him again. As angry as he wanted to be, it immediately quelled the shakes.

“I heard him, too.” Toga chirped, nuzzling against him in her attempt at soothing comfort. Dabi was adding Toga to the list of people to immolate. Snitches get burned to a fucking crisp.

“Dabi, what the-” Shigaraki was interrupted by his phone trilling out a distinctly retro-computer noise. He pulled out his phone, eyes narrowing at whatever he saw there. “Of all the fucking-” He grabbed Twice by the arm and dragged him to the door.

Dabi tried to watch; his lip-reading wasn’t the best but what little he could do was ruined by Toga manhandling him into blankets. Her to-go bag was next to the futon, along with a small laptop and an equally small portable hard drive. By the time Toga was satisfied with his cosplay of a burrito, Shigaraki had left the room and Twice was pulling in more pillows from the other rooms.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Dabi hissed as Toga and Twice plumped and shoved pillows around him.

“We’re watching movies.” Twice said taking a seat. Toga propped the laptop on his lap and brought up a screen.

“And I’m also doing everyone’s nails.” Toga said, pulling out her collection of nail polish, which wasn’t much. Maybe five bottles, two of which Dabi had stolen for her. To get her off his back.

“Like hell you are-”

“It’s either that or we start asking you questions and trying to talk.” Toga said, gesturing with a bottle of black nail polish. “So, what colors do you want?”

“Oh-oh I want black! No, I want purple!” Twice said, holding out his hands.

Dabi would do pretty much anything to avoid conversations with Toga. Twice isn’t too bad, since Dabi can normally steer the conversation to safe topics, or at least entertaining ones. Toga’s a nosy little weasel who liked to pry. He also didn’t want her to realize that she could engage in some low-grade torture if she wanted answers bad enough. Gods, this quirk was the worst.

So they put on a movie that Twice suggests. Then another. Since Dabi’s had more sleep in the last two days than he normally got in a week, he’s awake through both movies. He’s still alert when Toga insisted on switching to a K-drama after Twice fell asleep in the middle of the second movie. He’s still awake when Toga finally clocks out and he can turn off the series that he is absolutely not invested in.

As far as things went, he wasn’t feeling too bad. Not as good as when Shigaraki was next to him; there was the occasional twinge of nausea, but that might also be due to Twice using him as a glorified teddy bear. It was like having a band of iron around his chest. At least Toga wasn’t treating him like a stuffed animal. No, she was snuggled up to Twice and blessedly far away from him. She was a light sleeper but Twice slept like the dead.

Now was another chance. He could make a break for it. It’d been close to eight hours. He could probably make it further than before. To his apartment, although if worst came to worst, the clinic was between here and his flat.

He stretched, snagging his phone and turning it on. Twice, thankfully, didn’t wake with the sound or the light from his phone. It took a few minutes of careful maneuvering to rearrange Twice so that he’s cuddling a pillow and not Dabi. After that, it’s relatively easy to sneak past the other rooms. He’s not sure where Compress is, but the door to one room is closed and through the door of another, he can see Shigaraki asleep on what he assumes is Spinner’s bed. He doesn’t see Spinner though.

Maybe Shigaraki kicked him to the couch or another room. He’s bratty enough to do that.

The step at the top of the stairs squeaked loudly when he put his weight on it. The noise sent a chill through him that wasn’t related to his constitution or the quirk currently affecting him. He froze like a deer in headlights, feeling less like a man in his twenties and more like an awkward teenager trying not to get caught by a father who would rather he disappear.

He didn’t hear any noises or indication that someone heard him, so he forced his heart to calm and shoved the suffocating memories back into the vault. He wasn’t that person anymore. He didn’t fear shit.

Dabi made it halfway down the staircase before the tremors started up again. He ended up collapsing on the bottom step, curled over in an attempt to avoid being sick where he sat. He lost more time on that top step than he thought. Of all the stupid, weak things to get stuck in his head over. What a-

He startled at the firm hand on his back, throwing out an arm to defend himself. Looking back on it, he wasn’t sure what it would have done. He didn’t have a quirk and anyway, his arm was caught long before it made contact with anything.

“Whoa, who. Calm your tits.” Dabi knew that voice. It fucking Spinner. Of course, the fucking lizard is the one who finds him.

“Thought you were banished to the couch.” Dabi rasped, grimacing as Spinner rests a hand on his back and began rubbing it. He remembered doing this for his sister, and as they got older, his sister doing it for him.

“Nah. Wanted a snack since Shig passed out during our last match. I was looking for a cat that I heard hacking up a hairball before I realized it was your sorry ass gagging on the steps.” Spinner said. The bite of his words didn’t match his actions, which were careful not to press too hard on Dabi’s back - Spinner no doubt could feel the staples that ran over his back.

“You finally getting the chance to sleep in a bed with someone else?”

“Don’t even start. I bet you’ve shared a bed with more people these last two days than you have in years.” Spinner said, followed by his muzzle scrunching. “Shit, that includes me. Ugh. I guess we both lose.”

Dabi couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. Surprisingly, Spinner grinned at him.

“This helping at all?” He indicated with his eyebrows to his hand rubbing Dabi’s back.

Dabi shrugged. “It’s contact.”

Spinner’s hand pulled back for a moment before returning. Dabi tilted his head and shot him an inquiring look.

“Honestly forgot about the quirk for a second.”

“Do you just randomly rub people’s back like this? Creep.” Dabi said. He grinned as Spinner stopped rubbing his back again to punch him in the arm. It was gentle, though, and he put the hand back.

“Fuck you. My sister used to do this to me when I was nauseous. I did it back after she started getting her period.”

“Gross.”

“Not like that, dipshit. Her body and quirk didn’t play nice with each other. Sometimes this helped with her nausea. When it didn’t, well. Let’s just say I’ve tried every weird home remedy you can find online and off.”

“Sounds like a good relationship.”

“It had its problems.” Spinner said candidly. “She wasn’t exactly sympathetic with…” he gestured to all of him, “And she wanted that perfect family so much… Let’s just say there’s a good reason we’re estranged.”

That certainly sounded familiar.

“That sucks.”

“Eh. We’re both better off for it. She can pretend she never had a fuckup as a sibling and I…” Spinner sighed, “Honestly, I miss her, but I’ve got a healthier family here.”

“Don’t include me in that.”

Spinner rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. “The only thing I’m including you in is my list of ‘pains in the ass’. Come on. You’re clearly not feeling better, so back upstairs.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Funny how you think you have a choice in this.” Spinner said, words ending on a chuckle that wasn’t like anything Dabi had ever heard from the man before. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Before Dabi could process anything more than that, Spinner had thrown him over one shoulder like he was nothing more than a sack of rice and started up the stairs.

Memories he’d rather forget smacked him with deja vu.

“Dude, how often do you get hefted?” Spinner asked, tone lilting with surprise.

“Fuck off.”

“Seriously! You did the limp-cat thing. Are you used to this or something? Is that why we don’t see you around? You’re off getting carted around by your own personal himbo?”

Dabi swatted at Spinner’s shoulder, although he couldn’t help his own snort of amusement.

“No, fuck- Just fuck no. I’m not into himbos.” Dabi said. Spinner made a noise that, while probably meant to be affirming, sounded more like skeptical soothing. “I used to know someone who liked to do this.”

That ‘someone’ had been Natuso; once he realized his growth spurt had left him taller than both of his older siblings, he had reveled in his strength. He had a ton of joy in it right up until he realized that he was built like, and put on muscle like their father….

He remembered Natsuo, and on occasion Fuyumi, who was stronger than she looked, using their strength to force him to get some rest. Or get some sunlight. Or any of a number of things that either one of them determined to be needed. Honestly, he preferred them hefting him around over the nagging any day.

“Didn’t take you for someone who let his friends manhandle him.” Spinner said.

“Who said we were friends?”Dabi said, sharp enough that Spinner flinched. “I said I ‘used’ to know a guy.”

Spinner didn’t say anything else as they reached the top of the stairs, or even as he set Dabi down. Unlike Hawks, he didn’t hover a hand over his back. Instead, Spinner clasped both of his hands on Dabi’s shoulders and used them to steer Dabi back into the room. Shigaraki was sitting in the futon, a phone in one hand.

“Where the fuck did you two go? I was about to send a mass text.” Shigaraki grumbled. Dabi flipped him off, trudging over to the futon and collapsing into it. Shigaraki elbowed him sharply.

“You were taking too long,” Dabi answered, lifting his head only the barest amount to be heard clearly. Shigaraki’s head swiveled towards Spinner.

“Caught him on the stairs.” Spinner said. It was both entirely honest, but also not as damning as Dabi had expected from the lizard. He had expected something more in line with ‘he was trying to flee.’ Shigaraki sighed. It wasn’t his exasperated sigh, but the one that he used when irritated.

“What happened now?” Spinner asked.

“Compress called. He had an update about earlier.” Shigaraki said. What had Compress been looking into? Not the doctors, right? Then again, it might be better if Compress went without him. He wouldn’t have to juggle as many secrets… Then again, he also might recommend something and then Dabi’ll have to work twice as hard to steer the league away.

“What sort of update?” Spinner asked. Dabi rolled onto his back so he could watch the exchange. Shigaraki was on his phone, swiping through the screen. It looked like he was ignoring them. Dabi opened his mouth to repeat the question. He shut it just as quickly; the look Shigaraki leveled at him actually sent a chill down his spine.

“He hasn’t been able to reach his usual npc for more information on this quest. All I have is a name.” Shigaraki said, dropping onto the futon and swatting Dabi’s side until he scooted over. Spinner frowned, probably debating himself on if he wanted to join. He finally caved, and Dabi would bet money that it was because Shigaraki was either giving him the creepy puppy-dog eyes or the murder eyes. He had no idea which motivated the freak more.

“Who’s name do you have?” Spinner asked, accepting the controller Shigaraki handed over. Another was handed to Dabi.

“Name of a shop. An apothecary over by Kuat station.”

Goosebumps broke out over Dabi’s skin, at least the healthy portions of it. Something that Shigaraki immediately noticed and grumbled about. Hopefully, he wouldn’t make the connection between his reaction and the implied shop.

Dabi knew that shop. If Mister Compress knew the owner, then it was very likely- No. She did business with a lot of people. She was just as keen on making a profit as Giran was. No reason to worry over his plan.

“Fucking hell, Dabi. How much closer does this quirk need us to be?” Shigaraki groused, even as he moved closer to Dabi, practically squishing him against Spinner. Spinner looked up at the ceiling, praying to gods he believed in as much as Dabi did. Not at all.

“Can we please just play a game. Any game.” Spinner pleaded.

“For once, I agree with the lizard.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not in a million years.” Dabi hissed back. They go back and forth like that for a while, making petty jabs and sniping at each other verbally and within the game. For a coop game, it’s surprisingly easy to turn into a PvP match. It’s not helped that, with all three of them crammed on the futon, it only really takes one elbow to the ribs to fuck the other two over. Despite the fact that it’s mildly uncomfortable, it’s been years since Dabi’s been able to play any sort of video game. It shows. He loses the first half-dozen matches and it burns at him enough that he starts playing dirty. Unlike with his siblings, the other two don’t get mad so much as they also start fighting dirty.

It’s almost fun.

As soon as the thought crossed his head, he slammed the brakes on. They’re a means to an end and this is already disgustingly fraternal enough. He’s had one unwanted sibling moment with Spinner, he doesn’t need another of them.

---

---

He ends up with another disgusting bonding moment.

He woke hours later to a dark room and a screen cheerfully informing them that all the players died. He knows it’s been hours because he’s sore from his poor sitting posture and the fact that his shirt is damp from where Shigaraki had been drooling on it. He shrugged the man off, plucking the fabric to see how large the drool spot was. Large enough that he felt the need to bathe in rubbing alcohol.

To his surprise, Shigaraki didn’t really wake up so much as grumble something incomprehensible and curl into a ball. On his other side, Spinner had splayed out on the floor, having somehow stolen the blanket and wadded it up under his head.

He looked to the other side again, noting that Shigaraki wasn’t touching him. He looked at Spinner. Neither man was touching him. This was actually the first time in what, two? Maybe three days since he felt this fine without direct contact?

Slowly, he got to his feet, waiting for the quirk to remind him of its existence. Neither shivers nor nausea followed. He took a few steps towards the door and stopped, this time stretching out his limbs to see if that would kickstart the quirk. Nausea gurgled, but it wasn’t overpowering like it had been.

He carefully made his way down the stairs, this time stepping over the creaky ones. Still good.

He paused by the front door and looked behind him, peering into the dark to see if anyone was coming after him. He didn’t see anyone at the top of the stairs, nor in the kitchen or the makeshift living room.

Fuck it. He was going back to his own damn apartment.

---

Dabi emerged from the shower to his phone vibrating and lighting the room up. A quick look at the screen showed several messages from various members of the league. He shot off a group text to leave him alone and turned his attention to the newest message.

Hawks.

He was too tired for irritation to fully flare up, but he didn’t feel like repeating himself to the hero. Not when he’d just sent the league a text. He debated adding the bird to the group chat but decided against it, instead holding the phone up and snapping a quick selfie, sending it off to show the bird he was alive and relatively safe and sound.

He saw the small dots pulse as the bird typed. And continued typing. He rolled his eyes and dropped his phone on the futon to go get changed.

His phone vibrated again as he was settling into the futon; despite sleeping for almost two days, he was still exhausted. It certainly explained why more people didn’t go after the doctor if this is what happened when you pissed him off.

The message Hawks sent was short, despite it taking the man so long to write.

[I would call that alive+well!!]

Dabi snorted, about to plug the phone in and roll over when another message buzzed through.

[do you know who got you?]

{Why are you going to go arrest him or something?}

[pft no. I don’t think you need a knight in shining armor. I was more trying to pre-emptively fill out the report I'm going to need to file on a pile of ash.]

Damn right he didn’t need a knight in shining armor.

{Don’t worry about him. He’s harmless and I got what I needed from the meeting. No reports on mysterious ash needed.}

[Damn, I’m trying to convince one of my sidekicks that I’m psychic.]

{birdie, if you do that they’re just gonna think you’re a serial killer on the side.}

[Oh no, I’ve already convinced another sidekick of that after they made one too many cannibal jokes.]

Dabi chuckled. That sounded like one hell of a prank to play on someone. He was on the edge of falling asleep, but he sent off a text asking Hawks to tell him about it.

---

---

Notes:

AN: No magne because unfortunately, she died before Hawks showed up. Which is a shame. No kurogiri because much the same.

AN2: Spinner is definitely comparing Dabi to the older sister I gave him, in that ‘why are older siblings such bastards(affectionate)’ sort of way.

AN3:
So the general plotline for this series is going to be Dabi (and others’) continued run-ins with this doctor as Dabi tries to recruit other doctors for the league.
Part two: Hawks
Part three: Dabi on repeat
Part four: Dabi’s past catches up to him ft Natuso

AN4: I have been fighting with this chapter for months, despite having it more or less outlined and typed up. Editing is a bitch and a half when it’s your own work. Still, i’m fairly satisfied with it and wit the fact that this finishes the first of my multichapter fics. Thanks for hanging in there everyone, and I hope to see you in part two!

Notes:

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