Chapter Text
Death can be tragic. Horrific perhaps. Traumatic at worse. Humorous at best. But arousing? Shigaraki turns his head to the side and bites into the tensed flesh of his upper arm, leaning against the steamed glass door of the shower cubicle, as he roughly palms himself. Loathing the fact that he needs to.
He blames it on pre-rut hormones. He blames it on Sensei. He blames it on Kurogiri. He blames it on the pretty high schooler with her golden eyes and warm honey aromas. He blames it on his secondary gender. He blames on it on the disappointing newspaper article. He blames it on Stain. On stress. On sleep deprivation. On starvation. On sex itself. He blames the whole fucking world.
However, he refuses to blame it on the dark, scarred stranger with his dead-looking, dimly lit, glowing eyes, and his golden stitched skin.
You look gross in person dude.
Shigaraki shudders violently. Thick pearls of ropey white strands hit the glass surface, smearing an obscene mess as it dribbles down the shower cubicle.
Vaguely, he wonders about Dabi's secondary gender. He didn’t recall a scent. Is the man a Beta? An Alpha? Or perhaps an Omega on suppressants? That aside, he didn’t see scent blockers on Dab – is the fire wielder someone who can naturally mute his scent?
Three days later he accepts the recruits much to Sensei undisguised delight and Kurogiri’s unbridled relief.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
What prompts the grumpy Alpha to make the scarred man his second in command, Shigaraki has many reasons. One of them is not however because of his growing frustration at the man and his lack of scent and identity. He’s not interested. Not anymore anyway. He doesn’t care. Or so Shigaraki likes to think as much.
August approaches fast and the League becomes extremely busy with preparations, meeting more often than not. Introductions are made and plans are formed. They spend many hours running over the plans and then contingency plans, mapping out the pros and cons of each new member’s quirk, figuring out which partner dynamics works well with who and such.
And things are fine - they were going fine - until one particularly confusing night. After yet another lengthy meeting at the bar Shigaraki dismisses the recruits, and in thinking he's alone, weary, he starts to drift off where he sits. And it’s fine. It’s all calm and quiet, when suddenly the back door to the bar crashes open and Shigaraki jerks, almost falling out of his seat.
Dabi stumbles in, hair a mess, face dripping with water. He must have been in the bathroom while the other were leaving. Their eyes meet and that's when the Alpha catches it. The first stray note of a scent he knows doesn’t belong to any of the others, therefore, it must be from Dabi. A scent he’s never came across before.
Shigaraki thinks he can hear it.
Because it sings in the air.
It vibrates.
It's metal. Shimmering metal burning a hot white under a starless night. Sickness too. He detects something like nausea and unease under the molten metal vapour.
“Are you an Omega?" The question leaves the Alpha’s mouth before he can think to revise it.
Dabi snarls and steps back, shuddering involuntarily. “No!” he sneers, almost a little too defensively. He seems to sway on his feet but before Shigaraki can do or say anything else, the scarred man is gone. For a long while Shigaraki puzzles this over, staring at the colourful liquid behind the counter, thinking maybe he must have imagined it. But something about that stray, unstable fragmented note concerns his inner Alpha.
“Bastard,” he snaps and reaches for his phone with one hand, and the other to itch at his throat. It’s pathetic. It’s irrational. It’s illogical. He tells himself it’s for the success of the mission and not because he’s trying to appease his inner alpha concerns. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t know anything about the scarred individual beyond the fact he goes by the name Dabi, has a fire quirk, and looks like Mary Shelley’s Creature from Frankenstein. Sensei had made him read that book as a child for some strange reason.
Doctor Ujiko proves to be a stingy bastard. “Why do you need another nomu?”
“I already explained! Because,” snaps Shigaraki losing his cool, “I need you to specifically calibrate it to obey him! My current nomus are calibrated to only obey me, therefore, I can’t give him one of my own. That’s why I’m requesting another god damn fucking nomu that hasn’t been calibrated yet!”
Ujiko argues, unhappy, and the phone call drags. The Alpha hates how he's forced to almost beg but he doesn’t let the matter go. The sickness under the molten shimmering scent troubls him and drives him to argue. It isn’t until Sensei intervenes that finally at last the doctor relents and Shigaraki gets what he wants.
A week later Dabi has his own personal nomu.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
Post Kamino ward is when Shigaraki senses it for the second time. They are in Sensei's house, upstairs in his bedroom with what's left of their rag-tag band. It's a different note. Like stars burning. Shigaraki snaps his head up. Stares. Straight at Dabi. The embalmed hands clutched tight against his chest trembles as an involuntary tremor runs through his body.
Burning stars.
The scent flits under his nose like the flicking flame of a candle, fleetingly teasing his inner alpha. It’s only for a glimmer of a moment but Shigaraki fasten on to it. The stars are burning.
Dabi looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide, the cerulean shade of his iris bright with fear. He knows Shigaraki knows. That the aroma of burning stars belongs to him. He recovers quick, curbing his expression into that familiar aloof mask he wears constantly, raising an arm to the back of his neck, and then shifting his gaze off to the side. As if nothing happened. The other League members seem to not notice, their nose too dull and untrained to be able to catch the slip from Dabi. And what with it being far too fleeting for them to have been able to. But not the Alpha.
And Shigaraki thinks then that he knows. Discerns that this one is not a Beta. Except he cannot be certain whether the other is an Omega or an Alpha either. He needs more to go on. He think’s maybe Dabi being an Omega is more likely. Because what Alpha mutes their own scent? Alphas generally like to show off. They generally flaunt their scent openly. If Dabi is an Alpha, then why would he hide it? Therefore, perhaps he is – has to be an Omega.
However, it’s only a hunch and he hasn’t any proof and his neck prickles and he’s tired; Shigaraki shoves the thoughts away. Because who care’s about Dabi’s secondary gender? Not him.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
It proves to be a cruel summer. Losing Sensei. Losing the nomus. Losing the bar. And to be on the safe side, they have to assume the heroes are already aware of or will discover the whereabouts of AFO’s personal residence. Thus, the Alpha after biding a few hours in his bedroom with the League leaves the house behind. Paranoia is a strong emotion. But being Alpha and paranoid only strengthens his instinct. It doesn’t feel safe here anymore so they must leave. He only pack as few things. Things he will need for his nest. And then they are gone. For good.
They end up spending time together as a unit, like a makeshift wolf pack, like mixed-up family, constantly spitting and snarling at one another. They move from one town to the next. Never staying in one place for too long, lest they be discovered. They watch one another’s back. It soon becomes a well-known fact within League, that the Alpha cannot sleep unless he nests. When on one or two accidental occasions they had happened to walk in on him arranging his sleeping quarters, disturbing him in the middle of scenting his precious, thread bare rags, that he’d packed from his old bedroom. No one dares to snigger. They can see it - the frustration, the insanity, the impatience in his bloodshot eyes – just waiting for judgement. But it never comes. Not even Dabi dares to rile him up.
Talking of Dabi - he is the only one who doesn’t move with the pack, choosing to only make rare appearances on occasion. Where he lives, where he stays, what he does, no one knows.
Shigaraki thinks that maybe it’s for the best. The shimmering, molten metal vapour and the burnt stars of Dabi’s scent is a distraction he doesn’t need nor want.
There’s just enough of it to tell him Dabi isn’t a Beta, but not enough to confirm if he’s an Alpha or Omega. Not that it matters. He doesn’t care. He isn’t curious. Time passes. Dabi slips from his mind. The space in his head is taken up by Chisaki instead. Mange dies. Compress loses an arm. A drug conspiracy begins to circulate.
A little girl with sliver tresses haunts the dark passages of the Shie Hassaikai compound. Or so he is told by Toga. The Alpha seethes in silence. And there’s no room in his mind to think about Dabi even if he wanted to, not when things continue to deteriorate from bad to worse.
He’s not the only one pent up with rage. With Mange’s death fresh on his mind and the ill-fitting prophetic arm Mr Compress is forced to don, and doctor’s disappearance – Shigaraki can feel it – things are reaching a boiling point. He knows sooner or later he has to act. His inner alpha demands it.
He feels guilty because he cannot get Compress a better fitting prosthetic. Not until they locate the stingy doctor. He’s down on manpower, what with Jin and Toga temporarily loaned out to the Shie Hassaikai. Kurogiri is a top-secret mission. As much as Shigaraki would love to call the miss villain back, he knows he cannot. This leaves just him, a crippled side kick and Spinner. But some how he has to make it work. He hasn’t a choice.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
“Are you sure?!” Shigaraki demands. He listens carefully. Compress and Spinner listen in with bated breath. And the Alpha grins. He doesn’t need to ask them. They are in.
Dabi’s presence would be welcome but he isn’t here. Never mind. Shigaraki has work to do. Starting with getting even with Overhaul. There’s no time to chase an absent associate. He will do this - with or without Dabi. With the information he has, he’s confident his ability alone is enough anyway.
It’s chance then. It’s sheer chance then – as the League step out from their hideout to pile in the van in order to intercept of the detained yakuza – that Shigaraki catches sight of a dark, edgy individual lounging against the brick wall. Dabi.
Although his mind is excited, occupied with the prospect of revenge Shigaraki’s suck in a breath. His cold heart thrums with energy. He is impatient to go. Nevertheless, he has manners and a greeting to his right-hand man is in order.
“You’re here?” he notes as casually as possible, stopping short a few paces from Dabi, to acknowledge the pyromaniac’s presence.
“Saw the live footage on the net. Anything going down? Are we going to be doing something or…?”
“Funny you should ask.” Anxiety buzzes in the pit of the Alpha’s stomach. Will they make it time before the capo reaches the villain hospital? He needs to leave like – now!
“Yeah?” Dabi’s eyes glitters with interest and he bounds off from the wall to close the gap between himself and his leader. Involuntarily the blue fire wielder almost flinches back a step when the sudden fresh sharp scent of pine needles strikes him. He knows what Shigaraki’s scent is, but he’s never really taken note of it. Teal hues rake across the Alpha and he suddenly notices Shigaraki is wearing a new jacket. Long, dark, and ragged. Does he get cold easily? Is it to combat the autumn chill of October, steadily growing in strength with each passing day? The dark-haired Omega silently appraises the leader; he cannot but privately concede the jacket is a good look on the Alpha.
“Spinner, Compress and I are about to embark on a journey to serve some much-needed poetical justice.” Shigaraki adjusts the hand on his face.
Dabi frowns. “How come I wasn’t informed?”
“We only just knew – kinda a spontaneous thing you know,” offers Compress, overhearing the conversation.
“What about me?” asks Dabi.
“What about you?” says Shigaraki.
The answer irritates the Omega. “Don’t you want me along for the ride?”
Shigaraki deadpans the conversation with a one-shoulder shrug. Up to you.
Spite makes the Omega want to storm off, but Shigaraki’s pine needle scent, rich and dark and secret like an untouched, undiscovered, ancient woodland, leaves him trailing after the leader, leaves him wanting to breath in another lungful. It’s strange but the scent tickles his senses in a way he hasn’t experienced for a long time and he wants to be surrounded by that sharp, fresh woody vapour of the forest
No, Dabi corrects himself, it’s because he wants a fight and is pumped with adrenaline. And he’s yet to have gone on a mission with Shigaraki side by side. Now would be a good opportunity to assess his leader. To assess if the League will be the promising, back-up he will need in order to fulfil his own goals.
Just as they are about to drive off, the leader halts them, so that he can clamber on top of the van’s roof. Compress chuckles. Spinner grins. Dabi shrugs. But they get it – they understand the leader – the Alpha doesn't want to miss the convoy – doesn’t want to miss his target. He is out for blood and he won’t stop until he fulfils that desire. Dabi can respect that. Hell, it’s probably the same kind of stunt he would pull. Deep down he knows he can be dramatic like that.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
The silky, olive-green exterior of Chisaki's jacket contrasts sharply against the fresh spill of the sanguine fluid from his arm. The tacky purple fur lining of his collar is likewise matted with the same fluid.
The raw iron stench, its bittersweet coppery vapour is thick in the air, along with the charred acrid ruins of the convoy vehicles. Sharp and stinging. Marred with roasted sand, dried blood, and a distressed Beta whimpering.
However, Dabi doesn't register the mingling clash of odours of the motorway collision. A motorway collision he aided in causing.
He stands within vicinity of the pathetic wreak of a once-imposing yakuza, the pale blue-haired Alpha and the magician, observing the action with a seemingly blank expression, eyes lidded, mouth slack, lips ever so slightly parted. At the most letting slip he is mildly surprised.
The truth is the Omega stands mesmerised.
Mesmerised at the crowing sight of the red-eyed Alpha. An Alpha in every sense possible. The trailblazer of his pack. The leader of the League of Villains. A cold-blooded killer. The strike first and think later kind of killer. A kill or be killed kind of man. Lethal. Deadly. Fast.
Done with taunting the capo, Shigaraki lifts his head and tilts it backwards to face the sky, the pale pallor of his skin crinkling from his cheeks up to the corners of his eyes and he howls. With malice and mirth and malevolence.
The cold rush of camphor, imbued with fresh spikes of pine needles, hits Dabi. This is the scent he fastens on to; this is the scent he registers; this is the scent that causes his lips to part with surprise; not the mess of the impulsive carnage.
And for one ephemeral moment, Shigaraki’s scent transports him. To a forest. A dark, dark forest, so dark that the green seems black. But it's fine because the scent is rich and fresh, pure and unadulterated, childlike in its energy but strong in its reassurance. Intoxicating. Hallucinogenic and heady. Powerful.
And beautiful, dare he think it. Dabi gulps down another lungful.
The Omega jerks out of his trance when Shigaraki suddenly appears by his side and nudges him with an elbow. How and when the Alpha moved from the mattress, that's at least a good three metres away, to where he stands, Dabi doesn't know. Usually he's hyper-aware, always conscious of his boss and his deadly fingers. He jolts and disguises his movement as raising both arms to lock behind his head and trails after his boss, heart thudding furiously. Loathing his moment of distraction. And confused. So damn confused. What’s happening to him? How'd he become so distracted by Shigaraki's scent?
Mr Compress’s deep victory chuckle seems muffled as does the approaching sirens, as does the scaly lizard up front screaming at them to hurry up. The only thing crystal clear is the Alpha’s sharp happy scent.
Dabi files away the momentary distraction, trying to convince himself it never happened.
He blinks. He grins. Because why not? They scored a point against the yakuza and the scummy heroes.
He ends up alone in the back of the van with the Alpha. Mr Compress sits in the passenger seat to give Spinner directions for their escape route.
Dabi secretly watches the leader from the corner of one deep blue eye. The Alpha is silent, a manic grin fixed on his face as he snaps and unsnaps one of the bullet boxes carefully in the palm of his hands.
Any other day, Dabi might’ve have kicked up a fuss but for once he cannot bring himself to complain. He offers is a half-hearted eye roll when their gaze meet. Fuck it. Dabi is in a good mood… and his lips start to curl into an unconscious grin, when his gaze get broken. The van jolts jarringly and he has to grab his stomach. He never feels good in a vehicle, much less one with Spinner driving. But the Omega cannot bring himself to yell at Spinner either. For once Dabi's mind is pressed quiet, silenced by the unbridled Alpha scent of pure joy and dominance, and so his voice, his words, his complaints lie peacefully dormant.
Yeah, okay. He nods silently to himself, maybe sticking around a little longer with the League might just be worth his while. He’ll continue working with them.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
And that's when it happens for the third time. The scent of simmering metal melting under a starless night, combined with the crushing softness of stars burning out. Dabi’s scent. The scarred man must not be aware he’s spilling. Whatever suppressant he’s taking must be wearing thin.
Shigaraki says nothing, hardly daring to breathe. Instead focusing intently on the bullets in his hands. Popping the little case open. And then snapping it shut. It helps. He's able stay cool. And analyse. It’s far too delicate, too soft to be an Alpha scent. And as he already noted, it's far too strong to be a Beta. But at the same time, it's not sweet enough to be Omega. It’s frustrating him, that he doesn’t know. That he cannot decern for sure Dabi’s secondary gender and he hates that it starts bothers him more than he cares to admit.
Something’s missing. Dabi must be doing something to his scent, suppressing it in some way, that it is messing up the natural order of his pheromone levels. Therefore, making it difficult to pinpoint his true secondary nature. And because Shigaraki wants to be able to drink in the scent of this mysterious aroma for as long as possible, he keeps quiet the questions he’s burning to ask.
Their eyes meet. Maybe Dabi is tired because he rolls his eyes at Shigaraki, and then for one breath-taking second it seemed like he might’ve just been about of smile, had the van not jerked at that precise moment. Spinner swears and Compress yells. And Shigaraki cannot be sure if Dabi was about to smile at him. The idea of it seems almost preposterous. Utterly absurd. And yet, somewhat strangely sweet. Because to smile at someone is a sweet thing to do. A soft thing. But Dabi isn’t sweet or soft kind. He cold and distant. Enigmatic and shady. And down-right infuriating at times.
Shigaraki averts his gaze. There's no point thinking about this. And yet it his skin tingles. The shimmering, molten metal vapour and the soothing, warm, aroma of burning stars prickles his inner alpha. It’s a scent he wouldn’t mind mixing with, if given half the chance.
You look gross…
Shigaraki disregards the thought. He has to. Even he wouldn't want to mix scents with himself. What hope is there that someone else would, never mind Dabi?
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
It doesn’t take long for the Alpha to push the thought of Dabi towards the back of his mind once again. Shortly after the League’s altercation with the former capo of the Shie Hassaikai, the news of Kurogiri’s capture dampens his victory. He’s not prepared for the new strains of tension, as if things weren’t already difficult enough. But it’s fine. Keep going, he tells himself. He has to just keep going.
As for Dabi – the scarred loner is away days at time doing his own version of recruiting. It is during this period Shigaraki begins to assert with confidence his own version of justice and leading. He has no choice but to step up. With his back against the wall and heroes seemingly crawling around in every nook or cranny he turns to, Shigaraki has to work that much harder to stay ahead.
It starts with Spinner. His inner alpha loathes the way lizard’s scent seems to be imbued with stress and fear more often than not. They’ve argued but he understands why. Spinner is frustrated and rightly so.
To appease the lizard Omega, he makes amends. Those anti-mutant quirk haters deserved it – in Shigaraki’s eyes all quirks are equal. After taking down the anti-mutant Nazis, he ends up hanging out more often than not with Spinner. Spinner’s scent of fresh cotton, baby power and warm desert sand is tolerable - when it’s not marred with stress. It does not irritate the Alpha. It’s quite soothing in fact. It helps to keep Dabi at bay from his private thoughts. It’s a distraction so sorts. A nice one, a safe one. So, the Alpha indulges. He lingers. And they play video games.
The Alpha has his limits though. The Omega that irritate him the most is Toga. She pretty and she know it. Wily. She smells nice as well. But her scent does for him no more than what toilet freshener does after someone’s taken a dump. He knows what they get up to – ‘they’ namely being Compress, Jin and her. They like to play card games and drinking games. Drinking games that involves truth or dare. And once or twice at the end of a long day, they've sent her to him as a dare.
He stares without really seeing. She's on her hands and knees, her scent excited. Mr compress turns away sideways, no doubt to adjust his trousers as discreetly as possible. Jin forgets about the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers. Shigaraki remains unmoved. The sweet vapours of sun-warmed honey, do nothing for him. If anything, it irritates him because it's obvious that his pack is trying to rile his alpha aggression. Trying to get him hot and bothered. Trying to see if they can break his cool exterior and send him into a sexual frenzy. Simply for the sheer entertainment. Compress briefly digs a hand into his jacket pocket. A couple marbles roll in his hand, no doubt to contain Shigaraki should he actually become feral.
Stupid. They are stupid, he thinks. His self-discipline and temper may not be the greatest and more often than not he's quick to kill but he's always been able to dismiss sexual distraction. Not that Toga made a dent. She's no idea how lucky she is. It's a dangerous game. But then again, they're all dangerous individuals. And they live for the thrill.
He signs and storms out of the common room of their latest shitty hideout to camp out in his room. But all in all, it's fine. This is what it means to have a pack, isn’t it? Minus Dabi and his mysterious molten metal scent.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
October bleeds into November and with every crimson leaf that’s torn off the weary branches of stubborn age-old trees, Dabi finds himself experiencing an inexplicable range of emotions.
Loneliness and hunger and …
He shakes his head. The last one. He dares not think about it. He doesn’t want to put a name to it. Fuck Shigaraki. Ever since the League’s tryst with the Shie Hassaikai, Shigaraki’s appeal seems to have grown on him.
It’s the stories he hears from Jin that fuels his hunger. Jin, like the good friend he is, regularly updates the patchwork villain about all the League meetings he's missed. But the clone man then babbles on and on. Mostly about stuff the pack get up to when they don’t have meetings. Usually Dabi murmurs and grunts, indulging Jin for a small while, never playing much attention, before inventing a lie or two to cut short the phone call once he’s gained the necessary information. But this time it's different, he sits up straight almost falling out of bed, positive he heard wrong.
“Say what?” he asks, face pinched. Outside the wind blusters and a cold, draft drags along the exposed patches of his unscarred skin. His right nipple becomes erect.
“I said Toga, Dabi! Toga! Aren't you listening? She got on the floor pretending to look for her knife, bending low. I could believe it. Such a holy sight. Such a beautiful sight. Whore. The boss was staring at her. I think he was trying to control his excitement. I think maybe something definitely might’ve happened, but then he got up and left!”
Dabi has heard enough. He cuts the call not bothering to invent an excuse. The next time Jin calls him, it’s to tell him about Spinner’s weird skin condition.
"I kid you not - he was turning pink. Fucking pink like salmon. Like right after Shigaraki patted him on the shoulder and the boss was saying something like ‘thank you for lending me this game’, using Spinner’s first name. Since when are they on first name base?”
These snippets of information from Jin sit like uncomfortable stones low in his belly. The very idea that Shigaraki might be romantically interested in anyone seems preposterous. He is like a child, Dabi doubts the Alpha even knows what a rut is, never mind a heat. He doubts Shigaraki is even interested in anyone, but it’s the thought, the possibility that Alpha actually might be that angers Dabi.
The Omega shakes his head. It startles him, how much this very thought, this suspicion, this assumption disturbs him. Because for fuck sake, Dabi wants to know too - how come the Alpha is on a first name base with Spinner? And why did he stare at Toga like that? Does Shigaraki like her? Or Spinner for that matter. them? What the fuck do these two have in common to attract Shigaraki’s attention?
And then it’s with sudden, worrying clarity the answer comes to him – they are Omegas. Dabi’s stomach knots unhappily. Of fucking course. Although it’s not true of everyone, its nonetheless an undeniable chemistry – Alphas are known to be drawn to an Omega’s scent, and vice versa. Yes, all kinds of couplings are possible and exists, but everyone knows – they just know – that an Alpha and an Omega is the most common dynamic that just seems to occur fairly naturally and fairly frequently.
Jin is an Omega too. So was Magne, before the yakuza cut short her existence. As a pack, the League was evenly mixed. Back then, there were three Alphas, three Betas and five Omegas total, including himself – before the heroes slowly chipped away at their numbers.
But Dabi has never cared about things like secondary gender dynamics. Or cared about anything much in his life, to be honest. He only has one goal in mind. And that’s to bring his father to justice. So why is he letting something as insignificant as the Alpha’s private life get him now? - and why does he care? about Shigaraki being an Alpha surrounded by Omegas?
Potential Omega mates?
Dabi pitches his phones across the room. It hits the wall with a sharp thwack. Without looking he knows the screen’s cracked. Cracked like his stupid, irrational omega desires.
But no one knows he’s an Omega.
No one knows.
He conceals his status. Has been doing so since he was a child. When he was living with his family, but he did it out of necessity, to bring less attention to himself. And when he was on the streets, he’d suppressed his scent out of fear. For his own safety.
The moment he could, Dabi had switched from using scent blockers to more sophisticated methods of subduing his omega pheromones – pills. Because the pills did much more than mute his scent – it effectively prevented his heats. Moreover, taking pills was less conspicuous. The League naturally assumed him to be a Beta and for the sake of convenience, Dabi had let them.
But now… for the first time, Dabi wonders whether or not correct this assumption. His stomach churns. Should he reveal his scent to Shigaraki? It would mean he’d have to stop taking suppressants. If he does, it could take a while for his scent to properly return. On the downside, his heat cycles would also begin to start up again. This is bad because it means he could potentially drop into an unexpected heat at any given moment once he comes off the pills.
Dabi sighs wearily.
He runs one hand absentmindedly over the back of his darkly scarred arms. Should he or should he not – reveal his scent? He rubs his belly next, fingers gently trailing over the golden stitches that hold the seams of his burnt flesh together. And he suddenly regrets it. What he said to Shigaraki the first time they’d met.
You look gross in person dude.
Bottom lip trembling, Dabi closes his eyes and tries to breathe evenly. Why did he say that? He wishes he never opened his mouth.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
It’s mid-November. The trees are barren. Crimson leaves fill the walkways and dances all around them. Shigaraki crows.
They finally, finally, finally locate the power Kurogiri spoke of. Gigantomachia.The Alpha rushes at the thing. Not once, not twice, but again and again, but each time he’s beaten down. He has to retreat. Then he and Dabi go at it together. The flames do nothing.
"Pathetic," growls the Alpha. Between the six of them – not one of them has a suitable enough quirk to combat this monstrosity. Frustrated, he roars. All his earlier glee vanishes in a rush. His team is ill-matched to fight this thing – he's on his own for this one.
“What?!” snaps Dabi, wheeling around to face the Alpha, annoyed at Shigaraki’s reaction. Why is the Alpha getting frustrated at him?
“Not you,” hisses the Alpha. His scent rises. Pine needles dank with the heaviness of rain. This is going to a long and difficult venture. He doesn’t have time to waste. The dissatisfaction in his scent grows. He cannot control it.
Dabi wrinkles his nose, disappointed. “I’m out of there.” Except he doesn’t want to leave. Not really. However, the Alpha is in a foul mood. Dabi didn’t turn up for this. Didn’t travel all this way to be greeted with drama. Shigaraki’s scent is damp with irritation. Where is the deep, rich, evergreen forest fragrance and the frosty sharp camphor? Dabi was secretly hoping to fill his lungs with the intensity of Shigaraki’s scent again. Instead, his lungs fill with the heat of his own unforgivable quirk. Blue embers shimmer and spark along his arms. Shigaraki narrows his eyes with a sneer, ready for a challenge.
Before they can argue, before things can escalate, they are interrupted by Ujiko. It proves to be a blessing in disguise. The doctor warps the League to his lab.
The minute he can Dabi wanders away, while Shigaraki converses with the doctor. It gives Dabi a chance to calm down. He ends up straying to the back of the lab, drawn to the huge glass vats illuminated with eerily glowing liquids. Submerged within these tanks are nomus. But something about them looks different from the ones he’s encountered previously. They seem so much larger and more grotesque than the other nomus he’d seen.
And his mind drifts back last month. To the day when he’d seen Shigaraki fight. The way he sailed through the air. The Alpha was mad that day. He’d slammed himself recklessly into an incoming vehicle, mid-air and how it had made his heart skip a beat. He does not possess the same kind of ‘laugh-in-the-face-of-Satan’ bravely like Shigaraki. He isn’t a coward by any means, but he isn’t stupid either. He is clever. He likes to fight clever. He’s would never fight recklessly like Shigaraki. And yet he couldn’t help but admire the Alpha then. Dabi wonders if the Alpha would be able to hold his own against one of these tanked monsters? Probably. He’d just dust them. The scarred Omega sighs when he’s called back to the group.
“We are leaving now,” says Shigaraki, watching Dabi carefully. “Are you coming?”
“No,” answers the Omega bluntly.
“What? Not going to help us put that monster down?” asks Toga scathingly. She twirls a loose strand of gold hair, smiling, canines glinting in eerie green glow of the lab.
Dabi spares her a brief glance, just long enough to give her a scowl before fixing his gaze back on the leader, staring defiantly at him. Pointedly he says, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not about to go down in a blaze of glory next to our leader here, just because the rest of you have a death wish."
"You’re only saying that because your fire is useless.” She sniggers. Dabi almost incinerates her but holds the fury down. Spinner and Compress snigger at him too. But Dabi cares not. He's trying to get a rise out of his boss. But nothing seems to phase Shigaraki. If anything, Dabi thinks he detects a brief flash of disappointment mar the Alpha’s scarlet gems, and then Shigaraki is turning away from him.
Dabi clenches his fist. What? - won't the Alpha even try asking him to fight? He didn’t travel all this way to meet with the League, only for them to part just like that.
Desperate, Dabi blurts out, "I'm putting my efforts towards recruitment and I think I've found someone. So, I want to put my energy towards that.”
The Alpha stops. Glances back, angling his head to stare deep into his eyes. His gaze is critical but not unkind. Dabi finds himself angling his own head forward, waiting. Almost breathless. He tries to keep his expression passive and uncaring like he always does but inside it’s the opposite. His heart rattles inside his ribcage. It feels as if they are the only two people in the lab. Shigaraki’s scent is calm now. And determined. Dabi has to will himself not to move closer to the inviting camphor. This – this is what he came back for. The Alpha’s scent.
"I’ll be waiting for you then,” Shigaraki tells him quietly. "I’ll wait patiently, go and bring me this recruit then."
Dabi suck in a soft breath. He’s not quite sure how to feel but the tightness in his chest loosens somewhat. He uncurls his fist. Shigaraki is essentially giving him permission to leave and do as he pleases. That's nice. But on the other hand, the Alpha doesn't require his presence.
Dabi nods. He’s half happy. Shigaraki said he will wait for him. This means the leader trusts him, to go and come as he likes.
He catches Spinner shaking his head disapprovingly and Toga spins around on one foot having lost interest. Her skirts flares. He catches a glimpse of her underwear, soft, pale pink lined with delicate white lace and his nose flares with derision.
They are Omegas. They are constantly around Shigaraki.
It’s the competition that fuels him and his own neediness for approval.
“I promise you,” he says just as quietly, “I promise you; it will be worth the wait.”
And that’s when Dabi decides - standing then and there as he gazes deep into his leader’s unforgiving red hues, their heads angled towards one another as if they’re about to kiss, were it not for the distance between them - that the next time they meet, he’ll send Shigaraki to his knees.
He will be ready, and he will cripple the Alpha with desire.
He will reveal his secondary gender. But above all – his cold blue eyes flicker over to Spinner and Toga – he’ll make it so that he’s the only Omega on the leader’s radar.
The League is gone and Dabi privately grins, his mind already busy hatching plans, content, for now, to observe and think about Shigaraki from the sidelines. If his scent wasn’t suppressed, Dabi knows the aroma of burning stars would have been strong in the air. He just hopes he doesn’t have to wait long until he can see the Alpha again.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
The contentment is short-lived. His stupid inner omega desires rear with dissatisfaction. Dabi finds himself wanting to be near the League again. Near Shigaraki again. And it hasn't even been all that long since he parted ways. He can’t quite explain why. Except the problem is he hasn’t got a valid reason to return back to the place where Shigaraki is fighting. He regrets not choosing to stick around and help the Alpha battle Machia.
It’s just over two weeks since he’d decided to stick around with Ujiko in his lab. The recruit he mentioned - Hawks is a filthy liar and then some more. Dabi knows he works with Enji. He also knows the winged, two-faced, bastard is a spy. The hero commissioners must be desperate if they are willing to send one of their own out in the field as a double agent.
Do they really think Dabi will trust a scrummy, two-faced lying hero? Especially one working closely with his father. His blood boils at the very thought.
Enji hurt him. Abandoned him. He allowed Dabi to burn and keep burning. It takes a special kind of spite - to leave your Omega cub alone by himself. He had waited for hours and hours for his father, wishing until deep in his heart he knew that the man would never show up.
Dabi shakes his head. He has to focus. It takes all his willpower to not kill Hawks already. So Dabi forces himself to pretend, to play along. He might as well see what intel he might be able to gleam from the twittering, good for nothing bird. See how far he can use him. How close he can get to Enji and create opportunities to perhaps even kill him.
And Dabi tries. Tries to keep busy. Tries to not think about Shigaraki. But it proves to be a near-impossible task. The memory of Shigaraki’s dark, rich pine needle scent and the sharp, cold sting of camphor seems to have permanently embedded itself in his system.
The scarred doll sighs. He wishes he could erase it because the longing hurts. And he wonders how might Shigaraki react to his scent once he smells it. But what he hopes to gain from the revelation, Dabi is still unsure.
As he slowly weans himself off the pills, his scent begins to gradually flow. Day by day it becomes stronger. It’s a joy to be able to scent himself and his nest again. The past few years, any bed or makeshift nests he’s slept in had only ever smelt of linin or his own sweat or Natsuo. And he didn’t realise just how much he’d missed the full force of his own scent, the comfort, the feeling of safety and security it provides until now. He cries. Blood.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
He has to wear scent blockers again if he wants to mute his scent when going out in public. One on each wrist and on either side of his neck and to be extra secure, he also covers the scent glands on his inner thighs. But Dabi doesn’t mind. It was never like he was trying to hide his secondary gender, to begin with. He’d only suppressed it as a kid because back then he was vulnerable, but then it became a habit. He honestly couldn’t care less if people know.
The days merge into weeks. It’s almost mid-December and the scarred Omega grows impatient. It’s jealousy. It prickles uncomfortably under his skin. He wants to warn Toga and her flashing pink panties away. He wants to push Spinner off Shigaraki’s radar. He wants to make his own presence known – his availability as a potential mate. That he is an option. Dabi hisses. If Shigaraki needs someone to play video games with – hell’s teeth he will fucking volunteer and play with the boss! Dabi runs a tired hand through his dark locks, chewing his bottom lip. He’s home now and stripping for a shower. Walking into the bathroom, he catches his reflection in the mirror and the fantasies start to crowd him.
The fantasy of one of the world’s most feared villain knotting him makes his head hurt but his heart sing.
He trusts the leader on a professional level. When it comes to fighting and winning and revolting against hero society. Yes, he trusts the Alpha, respects the Alpha. He knows Shigaraki is reliable.
But the problem is… he doesn't entirely trust Shigaraki on a personal level, like as a friend, neverminded a mate. But he wants to. Dabi wants Shigaraki. For a deep and intimate connection and yet - Dabi cannot be sure.
More importantly, asks a small voice, will the Alpha even want him? For this to work it has to be the same, doesn’t it? It’s got to work both ways.
What makes Dabi think that the Alpha would reciprocate? But what if he does? It might just be lust. Primal instinct and self-satisfaction and greed.
Dabi stares at his scars.
He won't get any answers unless he reveals his Omega status to Shigaraki. To see if there is an interest, a spark of some sort, even if it’s just lust. And – and if by chance Shigaraki likes his scent - maybe he can shape any lust the Alpha might feel into something lasting and stable and promising like – a bond.
Dabi bangs his head hard against the mirror.
Blood runs down the middle of his forehead.
The glass is cracked.
The startling dull thud of pain is a welcome relief. His inner omega mewls in protest, but he growls.
No, he must not think like that. It’s a weakness. Did he really just find himself fantasising about a future that’s bound to never happen?
It doesn’t even make sense, to be honest – he’s rarely around Shigaraki, and all the interactions they’ve ever had, it was mostly to bicker or go on quick killing missions. Then they both would pass of long periods of mutual radio silence. The honest truth is they are ultimately strangers.
- ͼ ֍ ͽ -
He hears from Jin, that Shigaraki doesn't eat or sleep or rest and he's beat and injured. But keeps going. Keeps fighting. Dabi is conflicted. He wants to be near the Alpha, simply to witness the prowess of his moving form. But then another part of him, his inner omega side, wants to confirm the Alpha is okay. He’s not sure how much longer he can take this. His scent has now fully returned. He’s completely off the pills. He is so ready. He really wants to be close to Shigraki again. His inner homage constantly whines now. But there's nothing Dabi can do but endure the distance.
It's December 16 and Dabi is about to be on his way to meet Hawks. To confirm if Jeanist is indeed dead when suddenly his phone rings. The Omega pauses shocked.
The caller's identity - is Shigaraki.
Heart hammering, he picks up and cannot contain his joy – it spills through his scent.
“Boss,” he rasps, shocked, happy and well just so damn happy.
“Dabi?”
The Omega almost purrs. The Alpha rarely contacts him directly. Usually, Shigaraki relays messages to him either through Giran or Compresses or Jin but he hardly ever messages Dabi directly.
By the time Shigaraki get off the phone to him, Dabi is spilling uncontrollably. His scent is in full bloom. He doesn’t bother to cancel his meeting with Hawks, instead, anxious to rendezvous with the League as soon as possible.
He runs like the wind towards his leader.