Could I get some Dabi action? Like with a reader that's kind in the league but not really. A mix of fluff and angst, maybe. Thanks!!
Yes, you can~ honestly, Dabi has been my muse lately… I might have caught the Villian-Virus. Anywho–enjoy!
“I hope it’s life-threatening,” You drone as you approach the examination table, “You called me twice. Haven’t I said before that once would be sufficient?”
“I got tired of waiting.” The standing man replied, most of his face in shadow but you recognized the tattered clothes and stapled skin.
You snort in response, glancing at the prone man before you. “Gun-shot?”
“It appears so,” He hums in response. “I am sorry to bother you with this—”
You cut him off, “Save it, Compress. I’m contractually obligated—show me the wound.” The masked man complies, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the weeping tear. “Bullet went straight through? Less work for me and less pain for you.” You pull a small cart covered in medical equipment (tweezers, scalpels, additional lamps, gauze, disinfectant, thread for stitches, staples, numbing agents and so on) and got to work. You start with numbing the area with a small injection then start to clean the dried blood around the gash.
The two men talk idly while you work, and you try to block them out—the less you know the better. With a final tug, the wound was closed, and you pat it with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. You drop your tools, “You’re all patched up.” You snap off your gloves while speaking, “No overextending your arms, it would be better if you didn’t use that arm at all—but I doubt you’ll stay out of action for long. Come back in two weeks and I’ll take the stitches out.”
“Thank you very much, my good Doctor.” Mr. Compress stands and bows, while you remain thoroughly unmoved.
“Tell Shigaraki to wire me the funds as usual.” Collecting the instruments you’ve used, you start to clean them with an alcohol solution nonverbally dismissing the two men. And as if on cue, a warp gate opens and Compress steps through it.
“Go on without me, I need to ask the good doctor something,” Dabi tells the gate, which closes at his words and leaves the two of you alone. You say nothing, waiting for him to speak first. The sound of his footsteps draws near and the feeling of his body heat behind you leaves no questions as to where he might be. Instinctively, you lean back slightly into his broad chest. His chin rests itself on top of your head and you feel his voice reverberating into his chest as he speaks, “Busy day?”
“Do you really care?” You feel him shrug in response and the movement motivates you to turn around and face him. Piercing blue eyes meet your own and for a moment your heart stutters. “Why… why’re you here?”
Dabi tilts his head back slightly, looking down at you. “If you don’t know, then you’re dumber than I thought.”
“For the love of—!” Gritting your teeth in frustration, you yank down the surgical mask. “If you wanted to piss me off, then I’d say you’re doing a great job so far. But unless you have anything relevant to say to me then call your ride, I’ve got shit I need to do.” You turn back to cleaning, but a strong hand grabs you by the bicep.
Dabi is not only taller, but he’s much stronger so he has no issue with dragging you away from the basin. He leans down a bit so that the two of you are almost nose to nose. His grip is like iron and it’ll leave bruises for sure. “Let go.”
“How about… the entirety of Japan?”
“Oh, so that includes you?”
Heat creeps up your neck at the implication and you turn away but it’s too late: he won. His other hand lands on your chin, gripping it so he can turn your head to face him once more. He always has to be in control, every single time—he tips your jaw upward and captures your lips with his own.
The familiar sensation washes over you and instinct takes over as you kiss him back. Dabi seems almost hesitant, parting for a moment before going right back to kissing you—as though he’s searching for something. Your hands wind themselves around his neck and pushing up on tip-toes, you deepen the kiss. His smell stings your nose—a mixture acrid pine and soap—and he breaks away leaving you stumbling slightly. Breathing heavily trying to sober up, you ask, “What… what do you want?”
He doesn’t respond right away, he simply gazes at you before speaking, “You. You’re driving me crazy—distracting me.”
“Sound like a personal problem.”
“It is.” He takes two steps and suddenly he’s cornering you all over again. “And it’s your fault.” A scarred hand snatches your collar, bringing you too close once more. “And being around you? That just makes it worse.” He grinds out the words as though each word is hard to say. “Seeing you with other people? Living a normal life? It just burns me up inside. I hate it.”
Your hands ball into fists, shaking as he’s about to say more but you bring one of the fists up and around—punching him square in the jaw. He releases you, staggering backward and you collapse against the wall. You straighten up, fixing the collar he had wrinkled and smoothing out your lab coat. “You’re the one who left me, Dabi—not the other way around! Don’t forget that.” Your eyes sting a bit from unbidden tears. “You’re the one who decided to be noble! To let me go because it was the ‘right’ thing to do. For once in your miserable, selfish, violent life—you decided to be the good guy. And you know what?” You could feel yourself choking with emotion. “I hate you for it. I really really do. Because even when you’re being ‘selfless’ you still find a way to be one of the most self-centered men I’ve ever met! Did you ever ask what I wanted? No! No—of course not…!” You turn your back on him, hands finding purchase on the lip of the sink. Head bowed, the tears start to fall but you refuse to show it.
He says your name, and you feel a hand on your shoulder. Slapping his hand away you tell him, “Get out.”
You don’t turn back around even after he leaves. No, you hunch over the basin—heaving your feelings into a drain. All alone in a room that still smelled like him.