"Really think I should be going home now, Dabi," You yawned from where you sat on their. . . less than impressive couch, your cuts so crudely wrapped and taken care of by a surprisingly steady hand. But hey, beggars cant be choosers, right?

     You were left alone in their living room, across a bar that was surprisingly allowed to be set up inside a mediocre, downright shitty apartment. The man working behind it was civil enough, and by now you were left to your senses watching the TV on the lowest possible volume with the phoenix by your side. You figured it was the polite thing to do, seeing as the rest of his crew had retired for bed. There seems to be two TVs, one you were using right now that was hung up and an older box one pushed up against the wall on top of the counter. You bag was left out to dry, the rain long gone but remnants of it still remaining in your soaked clothes.

     They handed you one of Toga's shirts, the only one that didn't vaguely smell like blood—ironically enough—and one that was the closest to your size. She said it was one she hasn't used in a while, so she can't say for certain if it either fit her or was too big for her. It was a snug fit, but large enough for it to be considered a one-for-all.

     You yawned again, rubbing your eyes with a stretch of your neck. "You sure? You're welcome to stay," Dabi mumbles a little too close to your ear, sucking up a breath as he laughs softly and shifts himself into a more comfortable position, "If you want to, this place is shit anyway."

     Despite your complaints and reassurance you were left trapped in the comforts of his side, an arm draped over you and your head forcibly laid to rest on his chest. It was nice, but it wasn't exactly comfortable with an adolescent girl taking pictures every five seconds claiming it as research. But hey, at least she was passed out already and you were finally able to relax yourself.

     "Nah, it's fine, I've been in shittier apartments," You chuckle, fumbling with your phone as you barely paid any attention to the show playing on low volume. "I'm just. . . worried about Jirou. She's definitely panicking about me, I can practically feel her mothering me all the way from here." A breath escapes his nose as a substitute for a laugh when he felt you shudder against him, leaning his cheek to rest against the comfort of your hair. Was that a new shampoo or was he just being a creep? "I thought you already texted her that you were fine?"

     "Yeah but she insists that I bring this to the cops. I will tomorrow, but I feel like this girl won't stop until she sees me come home alive." You opened your phone and showed him the long string of messages exchanged with your paranoid—and rightfully so—roommate, her tone very reminiscent of a spiraling mother. "Damn, might just convince me to take you home," He comments with a lopsided grin, shaking his head as he scrolls through it slowly, "But not enough. I'm not letting you out of my sight just yet," You frown, looking at him unimpressed. He in turn only shrugs, catching your gaze as he leans back on the couch. The dim lighting bounced off of his eyes perfectly, his smirk not quite leaving his face as you suddenly feel very aware of the thumb he had rubbing circles on your arm. The way his chest rose and fell in a way that matched yours—or were you matching his?—how soft his hair looked, how close you were, how you could practically feel his breath fanning on your nose and forehead and—oh no.

     You cleared your throat, letting your gaze fall back on the TV in an attempt to distract yourself from. . . whatever the hell that was. 

     "Well, alright, but I don't think there's anywhere for me to sleep here," You reasoned, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling of him staring at you in deep thought. Shaking his head, he lets himself laugh, "Oh shut up, you can sleep here. I'd let you take my bed, but. . . let's just say I don't trust my roommate to be alone with you." You snort, shuffling as you moved to lay your back on his side rather than your arm, "Jealous, aren't we?"

     "Yeah, he kind of is," He once again smirks, a chuckle leaving his lips when you hit his arm softly as if to say that wasn't what you meant. Silence once again falls, your legs curled up and resting just on the edge of his lap. Whatever the TV said all just sounded like white noise to you, your hands idle and tapping on the back of your phone in a goalless cycle. The blanket that had been previously on your shoulders was now long gone, the only warmth you got being from the abundance that Dabi had. Damn, if you weren't dating him you probably would've just hired him as a glorified heating source in the winter.

     . . .

     Wait what no you weren't dating shut up what.

     You get rudely interrupted in your process of zoning out by that sudden thought, tensing as a different type of heat spread on your cheeks. Dabi seems to have noticed, glancing at you with a raised brow before looking back at the TV as he wrote it off as from the cold weather. Which made him pull you in closer, which in turn made the feeling even worse. Oh sweet baby Mickey Mouse when will this end—

     "Hey Dabi. . ." Shut up shut up why did you talk, "Hmm?" You gnawed on your bottom lip, the question formulating in such a slow pace that you were worried that you'd be left quiet for too long. "Remember when. . . you talked about us like. . . dating, and. . . stuff. . ?" He looks at you once again, noticing your obvious avoidance at eye contact and instead focusing far too much on the TV and boring show you probably weren't even paying attention to. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it now, dollface," Yes great he said it was fine not to! Please stop talking— "No it's just. . ." Dammit Y/N! "I don't know, I guess. . . I just wanted to make sure you'd be fine with it? Because like," You pushed yourself up, taking a deep breath as you faced his quizzical look, "I guess I'm just. . . worried? I guess? That, by the time I'll finally be ready to come to terms with my feelings you'll be happy with someone else and it'd be too late and I guess my point is that oh wow I am starting to panic uhh do you. . . do you think that you'll. . . still feel, the same way? By then?" In your panicked tangent you hadn't noticed the way you looked down in embarrassment, only your eyes trailing upwards to hesitantly meet his.

     . . .

     A second.

     Then another.

     A part of you worried that you might've said something a little too awkward, the subject itself not one either you'd be enjoying right about now when your brains are mostly half asleep with nothing but bad television to keep you awake and kicking. But you said what you said, and you weren't one to take it back now that he looked to be thinking about it.

     . . .

     Soon enough he smiles, a finger gently moving to touch a stray hair, sliding it behind your ear with ease. His touch lingers there, his thumb and index lightly pressing the plump of your cheek before moving closer. "Don't stress yourself over it, babe, it was just a stupid question," You frown at that, watching as mischief dances in the blue of his eyes, laughing to pinch it even more. "You're cute." He soon moves back to his previous position, leaning back on the couch like nothing had just happened. You stared at him incredulously, earning a playful hum in response as he opens up an arm in invitation. 

     You decide to not take it, not moving an inch as you continue to glare at him to answer. 

     Surprisingly being able to take the hint, the man sigh and moves towards you again, directly sitting in front of you with his hands moving to cup your face as gently as he could, his touch hesitant as though he never earned the right to them but inevitably giving in to his own desires to hold. His eyes never leave yours, his breath fanning out on your face softly, "Hey," His voice was low and soft, careful in articulating whatever sentence he wanted to construct to get his point across, "It's been a long day, alright? You literally just got back from being kidnapped, ran in the rain while being shot at, and probably killed some people using a crane without a license that you actually own. I don't want you to be stressing over a question I asked like a week ago. Hell, I only asked that question because I know that I'm not going anywhere." A new-found grin spreads on his face, leaning in and planting the softest of kisses on your nose. Was this the same man? Who was this and what the hell did he do to Dabi?

     "I promise, alright?" He moves to then land another kiss, this time on your lips with a teasing chuckle, "Is that enough to make you stop pouting?"

     "Oh shut up I'm not pouting," He snorts, slowly leaning back as he pulls you along with him, "Yeah no, sweet cheeks, I'd say that's pouting." Before you knew it you were once again on his lap, a weird sense of déjà vu overcoming you as he runs a thumb along your cheek. You noticed the slightest sign of a flinch on him, frowning once again as you gestured to the recent injury on his leg. "I'm fine," He whispers lowly like it wasn't part of any dialogue he wanted to say tonight, ignoring whatever pain he felt for the sake of letting you sit on him. As if in a way to shut you up before you asked anything, he landed his lips on yours, this time a lot less lighter than earlier as you sigh into it.

     His other hand found home on your lower back—even going as far as to tease a finger below your shirt, his warm touch so suddenly grazing your skin making you jump the slightest bit—pulling you more towards him as he slowly eases both of you into it. He starts moving his bottom lip, deciding to do the same as both your hands went to go tug and run along his hair. He tilts his head the slightest bit, the hand on your face moving to your nape in an attempt to gain more close closure. More, and more, and more! Until you both got absolutely sick of each other. That was what heaven was like to Dabi, the high he got from just being near you a feeling he so loved to chase, peeking open an eye just to admire your look of content. Eyes closed, cheeks red—he loved it all so, so much. 

     But he pulled away just as quickly with a pop, that fox-like expression matching his face perfectly, "You know, I'm offended that you even felt the need to ask me that. Do I need to start showing my love in," He hooks a finger through the belt loop of the back of your pants, laughing as he sees the way your face brights up more than the infamous city you both lived in, "other. . . more obvious, ways?"

     "Alright calm it, bucko, we're not exactly alone," This only makes him laugh louder when you pushed him away, humming as he lets both his hands roam your arms. He slides them up and down with a dazed look, resting by your shoulders a few seconds before sliding back down again. "Does that mean we'd have a more, different, outcome, if we were?"

     "Oh my God, you're gross," But you couldn't stop the snicker, rolling your eyes as you both settled into a more comforting silence.

     . . .

     . . .

     . . .

     "Let's go to bed, don't you think?" You nod at his suggestion, much too tired to really disagree as you moved off of him. He lets you, before you both stop and you stare at the quite limited space provided. "Well how the hell would this work?"

     He shrugs, slowly letting himself lie down and opening up his arms with a dorky grin. "This?"

     "You're a loser." You go and accept the invitation either way, letting out a small squeal when he lets you fall onto the couch and essentially just cradling you with your legs over his bent ones. "But you still love me."

     . . .

     . . .

     . . .

     "Too soon?" He laughs, watching as you roll your eyes with as much humor as you could and giving in to his warm embrace, "Too soon."

• • •

     "Who the hell did the wrapping on this?" The next day when you got dropped off at your house was a relatively calmer reality of a much more dangerous expectation you had subjected yourself to, Jirou's panicked cries not as much as you had originally expected them to be. Oh my gee your friend was actually maturing—

     "Just a, roommate of. . . Dabi." You hesitate, flinching at the subtlest pause in her process of rewrapping the wound you got from the weird Taro lookalike from last night.

     But. . . it was just that; a pause. She got to moving back just as quickly, her face calm and unreadable but one you couldn't trust all too much. Ever since that day she so stupid-ly followed Dabi and almost got turned into Toga's next meal, you two hadn't really talked about that situation. Either because you both avoided it or it just never seemed natural enough to discuss, you weren't sure. "So you're. . . you're like, friends, with these guys now?"

   "Not necessarily—ow—no, not really," She mumbles an apology, before finishing it up and admiring her work with her mouth in a tight line. She looked out of it, staring at the newly wrapped gauze on your wound. That, or she was finding an excuse to not hold eye contact with you.

     . . .

     "I'm sorry, Kyoka," You receive a sigh in return, the purple haired girl rubbing her eyes as she sharply inhales and lifts her head up as if to stop whatever tears there were that wanted to leave. "Yeah no it's. . . it's fine I just. . . I mean it's just me, silly ol' worrywart me, ha," She forces on an all-too familiar upbeat tone, barely being able to hold it together as she clears her throat. "I accept your apology, Y/N just. . . don't. . . try, not to make it happen again? Please?"

     You open up your arms with a sheepish smile as if to say that was the rest of your apology, the girl sighing but returning it either way. "I won't, I swear. I'm sorry I made you worry."

     . . .

     "Alright okay no need to make this weird," She laughs upon feeling her 'physical touch limit' for the day getting reached, pulling away as you sigh inwardly in relief that she was at least back to a somewhat normal. "So how was your morning spent in an apartment filled with criminals?" She pauses, realizing the possibility of you being friends with said criminals, "No offense."

     You sit back and recalled as much as you could, your head relatively still foggy in the means of coping with what happened last night. "I mean it was. . ."

     You open your eyes fully expecting the sight of either yourself dead or the roof of your room, your brain not quite processing where you currently were and blocking out whatever other possibility that might've been there. It wasn't sure where to pick up and where you last were, the only memories it recalled of waking up either in the warehouse of the mind boggling, trauma inducing events of last night; or the mundane and everyday reoccurrence and sight of your bedroom ceiling.

     But what met you was something else entirely, taking note of the vaguely uncomfortable position but overall warmth this figure gave.

     It didn't take much of a genius to recognize this as Dabi, his arm around your waist and his neck and chin directly in-line with your line of sight. His eyes were shut and softly snoring, chest pressing up against yours with each inhalation. You could take forever and enjoy the rare sight that was a peaceful look on Dabi's face, but the weird unfamiliar feeling of the place and overall tiredness that creeped at the back of your eyelids threatened for you to pass out just as easily.

     The last time you ever felt like this was at a sleepover, girl's night out whatever in college, staying up until four but easily waking up at seven with no signs of falling back asleep.

     Ah yes. You hated this feeling.

     It was that weird limbo of your body wanting sleep but being picky and refusing to unless it was back in a familiar environment, huffing at the heaviness in your eyelids but overall adrenaline you felt even having just woken up. It was unnecessary, annoying and an overall nuisance to everyday li—

     "Oh thank God they still have their clothes on." In the middle of your mental ranting you hadn't even noticed the sounds of one of the doors swinging open, hearing that undeniable voice of Shigaraki in desperate need of a good fucking cup of coffee.

     You shut your eyes and subject yourself to public humiliation, Toga not once taking a pause from her antics as she got back to snapping pictures of you like you were some amazing specimen left out right in the freaking open. Oh great, now you had to deal with this until Dabi wakes up?? What the fuck???

     ". . .good."

     "Are you okay? Your face went like super red," She snorts and absolutely guffaws at your flustered denial, slapping your good arm playfully with a witchy cackle. "Why? Did you and Dabi get noise complaints or something?"

     "Why would they—OH GROSS KYOKA," She had so masterfully dodged your advances with a swift retreat, blowing you a raspberry before walking away to grab your bag. "Well whatever, come on, you're like uber later. Wouldn't want. . ." She trails off as you raise a brow, only having a view of her back as she inspects the insides of the thing. "Uhh, you good there, girl?"

     "What's this?" She holds a look of confusion, index and thumb holding up the familiar little vial of pink liquid for all the world to see.