city lights lay out before us [1] (Dabi X Reader)
A/N: Okay so i’ve planned out a lil bit of this series but i still have no idea what i want the ending to be so let’s just see where this takes us HAHAH
You weren’t expecting any more clients that night so it was a bit of a surprise to see one of your regulars waiting for you when you returned home from some last minute grocery shopping. Dabi sat on your couch, slightly hunched over with a hand pressed against his side, in the darkness of your small apartment. His face was barely illuminated by the dull moonlight that shone through your window, his breathing was heavy enough that you could hear it from where you stood at the front door.
“Did you make an appointment?” You teased humourlessly as you dropped your bag of miscellaneous groceries on the floor, making a mental note to ask Dabi to help you put them away later. The young man huffed and his stunning blue eyes glanced your way. They almost seemed to glow.
“C’mon,” he murmured breathlessly, “do your favourite patient a favour and help me out here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you replied dismissively before disappearing into your bedroom only to reappear with a bag that Dabi had grown familiar with over time. You opened it and began pulling out various medical supplies, placing them neatly on the coffee table in front of him. “You know the drill, pretty boy,” you said whilst putting on a surgical mask, “lay down.”
He complied and inhaled sharply when his movements proved too much for his wound to handle. Forehead slick with a thin layer of sweat, Dabi turned his head so that he could watch you at work— something he never got tired of doing. Your pupils began to constrict and your eyes widened as you scanned his body before reaching out to gently peel his torn, blood-soaked shirt off his torso. In the midst of wondering what you could see, Dabi hissed, caught off guard by the sudden contact you made with his wound.
“Sorry,” you whispered, a phrase that he knew held no value or sincerity every time you worked. It was simply something you said out of instinct.
Then, your palm began to glow a dull red before you laid it directly over his bleeding wound. Dabi felt the familiar sensation of a strange coolness wash over him as the sharp pain drained away in an instant; he also noticed how your own face began to contort in discomfort as the sounds of his heavy breathing were replaced with your own shaky breaths.
He’d known you for years now but still didn’t understand how your healing Quirk worked. You never told him and after a while, he stopped trying to find out. All he knew was that every time you did use it, you would come out of it looking like you were in varying degrees of pain or discomfort, depending on the severity of the injury.
This time, when you were done, you were sweaty and your eyelids drooped as if you were on the verge of passing out. Your body swayed back and forth slightly and Dabi’s arm reached out before he could think, his hand grabbing the back of your head. He winced at the sudden movement, anticipating a sharp pain to shoot through his abdomen but it didn’t. He glanced down at where he had been stabbed almost an hour ago only to find a patch of fresh, intact skin in its place.
“Thanks,” Dabi said, still supporting your exhausted form. “Had a lot of clients today?” He guessed, knowing that a simple stab wound wasn’t capable of draining that much energy out of you.
“Yeah,” you mumbled, ripping the surgical mask off your face and tossing it in the general direction of your bin. It missed, having bounced out of the pile of other bloodied bandages and broken surgical tools that had formed within. “I think I had… twelve?”
He whistled in response, surprised you didn’t kick him out of your home the moment you saw him. Dabi had seen you reject patients before, why had this time been different?
“Carry me to bed, will you?” You asked, holding your arms out in front of you, already prepared for him to abide by your request. He did but not without a quick roll of his eyes and a snarky comment you failed to catch since you were too busy trying not to fall asleep— especially when you were in his arms; his warm embrace a wonderful shield from the cold night air.
Dabi carried you to your room effortlessly especially since he was now injury-free. He felt your fingers grip weakly at his jacket as you leaned into him, almost nuzzling your face into his chest.
After he laid you gently on your bed, he made his way to your bathroom and brought back a moist towel. He had been at your place so many times, he found himself moving without even thinking, already comfortably familiar with the small apartment’s layout.
“Here,” Dabi mumbled before tossing the cloth on your face. You groaned in annoyance but used it to clean your sweat-covered skin anyway, releasing a sigh of relief at the comfort such a simple action brought you. As you continued rubbing the towel up and down your face, you felt the bed sink as Dabi crawled beside you. There wasn’t much space but neither of your minded, you’d been friends for too long to mind such petty things.
“Just because I gave you a spare key,” you peeled the cloth off your face and tossed it onto your bedside table, “doesn’t mean you’re welcome to stay, y’know?”
Dabi snorted, turning his head so that his eyes met yours. You felt a familiar pang in your chest, wondering— yet again— how it was humanly possible for his eyes to be of such a magnificent shade. For some reason you could not fathom, his eyes entranced you deeply from the second you met him; it was strange… looking at them always provided you with a weird sense of… familiarity, somehow.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Your silence was a good enough answer as any.
The next minute passed in silence as both of you maintained eye contact. Your own eyelids threatened to flutter closed several times but a part of you wanted to stay awake longer for reasons you were too tired to think of. You lifted your arm and reached over, fingers idly brushing at the surgical staples embedded in his skin.
“Need me to change any of them?” You asked, voice coming out softer than you’d have liked.
“No, they’re fine for now,” Dabi replied, feeling goosebumps form on his skin as you continued admiring your handiwork. You were the only person he allowed to touch him that way, it was only fair after all.
“How was your day?” You asked out of the blue, cringing internally at how weirdly domestic it sounded. “Other than… y’know.” You pulled your hand away, arm already tired, unaware of the way he furrowed his eyebrows when you did.
“It’s been… eventful,” he answered, shifting his body and folding his arms behind his head so that he rested his head on them. You wondered— since his eyes were now staring up at the ceiling— if he could see you admiring his side profile. “Giran got back to me and brought to me to meet a man-child called Shigaraki Tomura or somethin’ like that.”
“The name rings a bell,” you interjected.
“Yeah, he has this group called ‘The League of Villains’,” Dabi continued, “Stain was with them before he got arrested… They don’t seem serious, though, so—“
You hummed in response, unintentionally tuning out his words. You’d wanted to ask why he had this sudden interest in joining a group but the moment he mentioned Stain, you’d gotten your answer. You couldn’t pinpoint when but he’d been following the actions of the Hero Killer closely for a long time now; whenever he visited— randomly let himself in, rather— without any injuries, you knew he was here just to share with you whatever new crime Stain committed. Sometimes you listened, sometimes you simply hummed whenever he paused.
This time was the latter. Your head was too fuzzy from your excessive Quirk use today so all the words that escaped his lips seemed to mix together into a strange conglomeration of nothing. You always liked to watch him when he talked about Stain’s ideology, though. Whenever he did, his face would light up with some form of passion and then he would finally look like the young man he was— and not the tired, stoic Villain he, and many others, had to be to survive.
“Hey, wait,” you suddenly interrupted Dabi’s speech, patting his arm, “could you get me my phone?”
“I just need it.” You clicked your tongue.
“Living room,” you replied, slinging an arm over your eyes, signalling the end of the exchange in which Dabi had to comply with your simple request. He normally wasn’t one to do things for people but with you, he never minded since it was the least he could do.
He rolled off the rather cramped mattress and shuffled out of the room, his eyes scanning the vicinity for your smartphone. Dabi spotted the medical supplies you had used earlier and made a mental note to clean them up after you’d fallen asleep; he glanced over at the groceries and decided he would make an effort to put those away, too.
After a few minutes of searching, Dabi decided to give up but before he could return to your room, the sound of something vibrating caught his attention. He followed the noise and eventually located your phone underneath your couch. He fished it out and glanced at the caller ID on the screen.
“Hey, (Y/N)!” Dabi called out as he waltzed back into your bedroom, “what’s the old guy wanna do with y—“ He shut his mouth instantly when he realised you’d fallen asleep with your arm still half-covering your face.
Dabi scratched the back of his neck before hitting the decline button, deciding that he could just tell you about the call tomorrow morning but alas, before he could even turn the device off, Giran called once again.
What the fuck’s so important? He wondered, glancing between your sleeping form and the phone vibrating in his hand.
We’re close enough, right?
After another moment of consideration, Dabi pressed the answer button.
“Hey, (L/N)-san!” Giran exclaimed from the other end with the faint chattering of people in the background. “I’ve got an offer for you—“
“Leave a text or somethin’, man,” Dabi scoffed, “who even calls these days?”
“… Dabi? Why the fuck are you picking up (L/N)-san’s phone? Did you steal—“
“Of course not, dumbass.” Dabi clicked his tongue. “I needed (Y/N)’s he—“
“Ooh, on a first-name basis are we? Never thought you were her type—“
Rolling his eyes, Dabi deadpanned, “I’m hanging up.”
“Wait! This is important! Remember Shigaraki Tomura from earlier? He said the League’ll accept your application, by the way—“
“What the fuck does this have to do with (Y/N)?”
“Calm down, I’m getting there!” Giran barked. “He said he wants a healer on the team and (L/N)’s the best in the underworld, as I’m sure you already know… Where is she anyway?”
Dabi took a glimpse at your comatose-like state and decided against waking you up. Giran and Shigaraki Tomura could wait.
“Asleep,” he answered, already preparing to end the call, “I’ll relay your message.”
Dabi hung up. He quickly turned off your phone before anyone else could call before placing it on your bedside table.
You stirred ever so slightly when one side of the bed dipped but you returned to your peaceful slumber after Dabi made himself comfortable beside you. He’d positioned himself so that he was laying on his side with his face looking in your direction. He tucked some loose locks of hair behind your ear and felt himself stiffen when the simple gesture hit him with a strong sense of déjà vu.