Chapter Text
Dabi was in the back of the van with Toga when he started to, well, feel like complete shit. He’d woken up that morning and knew it would be a Bad Pain Day, but he'd hoped he would be able to shove it down until the evening when he could be alone.
With a frustrated exhale through his nose, he leaned his forehead against the window and tried to push through the mounting pain in his body. His stomach jolted when they hit a pothole and he swallowed the sour taste at the back of his throat.
Toga was unfortunately perceptive.
"What's up, Dabs?" She peered at him, pulling out an earbud. "You okay?"
He closed his eyes. He hated when his meds didn't do enough and his pain broke through. It was as humiliating as it was debilitating, especially when it happened in front of his teammates. "I'm fine. Fuck off."
"Are you gonna throw up in the van again?"
"No." For fuck's sake, that was one time. No one here ever forgot anything.
Toga continued to scrutinize him; he could feel her gaze on him, golden and narrowed with curiosity. Then he heard rummaging, and a finger tapped his shoulder.
"Toga, I swear to god—" He opened his eyes and was greeted with a pink water bottle in Toga's hand, covered in stickers.
"Drink," she said, and shook the bottle a little. The water inside sloshed around. "I know when you're sick. I can smell it."
Dabi wrinkled his nose at that— not out of disgust, not really. It was more the invasion of privacy. The fact his facade didn't, couldn't, fool her.
"Don't say things like that to people," he told her, but he took her water bottle and twisted off the lid. It had one of those silicone straws that you could flip up, but Dabi didn't feel like exchanging spit.
"Are you having a flare-up?"
"It's actually— and bear with me here— none of your business." Dabi took a sip of water. Toga pouted, and it was easy to forget, for a second, who she was and what she did.
"It's all our business," she protested. "We're a team. We should know when you don't feel good."
"Who doesn't feel good?" Twice twisted around in his seat. "Is Dabi okay? Hope it hurts! "
"What's wrong with Dabi?" Spinner was occupied with driving, but his eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. "Do I need to pull over?"
"Oh god." Dabi let his head thunk back against the window. Exactly what he didn't want. "It's literally nothing, I'm fine, this is not a group discussion."
"You want a Xanax?" Twice dug into his pocket. "Fuck no, that's mine! "
"I'd rather you hang onto that, Twice." A steady throb had started up in his skull, right behind his eyes. He caught Shigaraki staring at him from his seat next to Twice, expression unreadable, before Shigaraki whipped back around and faced forwards.
It was stupid, really. His meds were supposed to fix this.
Shoto didn't need drugs, he thought. Each time he swallowed a pill he proved his father right; he was weak, and he had been a mistake. A flawed, broken abortion of a child.
His phone buzzed and he fumbled for it with one hand, the other occupied with Toga's water bottle. Of course it was Hawks. Because they had a meeting tonight. Fuck.
chicken shit: [16:07] Location?
chicken shit: [16:07] Also how do you feel about takoyaki
This was, frankly, absurd. He had to squint against the brightness of his phone screen in order to type out a response. He wondered where Hawks was right now; the thought of him texting mid-flight, or even mid-patrol, was kind of thrilling.
Dabi didn’t like being someone’s dirty little secret, but he did like being the thing that made Hawks dirty.
franken-bitch: [16:08] i’ll send u coordinates later
franken-bitch: [16:09] and do not buy me dinner. i’ll skin u
franken-bitch: [16:09] i’m not ur girlfriend
chicken shit: [16:10] Of course not!! You’re my tall goth wife
Despite himself, Dabi snorted.
-
Things did not improve over the next several hours, and by the time their meeting time rolled around, Dabi’s body was screaming. He arrived at the meeting spot 15 minutes late, damp with sweat, and using the minuscule amount of strength he had left to avoid keeling over.
“Thought you valued punctuality,” Hawks said. He sat on a rusty discarded I-beam with a takeout bag next to him.
“I value yours,” Dabi replied. He was overheating; he could feel it in the staples in his skin.
“Ever heard of reciprocity?” Hawks clicked his tongue as he reached into the bag. “And here I am, treating your broke ass to a decent meal.”
The sight of the takeout container in Hawks’ hand made his stomach somersault. He was going to pass out if he didn't sit down soon.
“I told you not to buy me dinner,” he said, keeping his distance by leaning against a nearby supporting column. He didn't want Hawks seeing how pale he was, or the tremor in his hands.
“Excuse me for making sure you eat.” Hawks held out the little brown box, beckoning him to come closer. “C’mon.”
“Hawks, I—” The pain was building to a crescendo, and he finally said the words he hated the most. “I can't.”
“What?”
Then the entire building tipped to the left, and he slid down the pillar until his knees hit the concrete floor with a painful thud.
“Woah, woah—” Hawks was on his feet, takeout forgotten and wings puffed up in alarm. “Are you okay?”
“Gghk…” The words caught in his throat and he decided it would be best to just lie down. The floor was cold against his skin. “Hurts…”
Hawks knelt beside him and turned him onto his back to get a better look at him. His eyes were bright with alarm.
“What hurts?” Hawks demanded.
“Everything,” Dabi practically sobbed through the assault of pain.
Things moved very quickly after that. Hawks gathered him up into his arms— which hurt like hell, despite how gentle Hawks was trying to be. Kurogiri had helpfully named the symptom once during a previous flare-up, called it allodynia. His body wouldn't even allow him the comfort of another person touching him, instead kicking and screaming its way through a tantrum and labeling anything as painful.
It was humiliating. He felt like crying, and couldn't. He felt like throwing up, and his body could at least do that, so it did.
“Oh god, okay.” Hawks didn't let go of him, even as he choked up bile onto the both of them. “Alright, get it out.”
Pain rocketed up his legs, so unbearably hot that Dabi thought it could probably melt glass, and it took everything in him not to scream.
“I’m getting you out of here, okay? Hang on tight.”
Hawks was stronger than he looked. Dabi naturally had a couple inches on him, and in his boots he towered over the hero, but in terms of raw strength he was the rough equivalent of an overcooked string bean. Hawks, for all his hollow bones and delicate features, was more than capable of lifting him like they were newlyweds and taking flight from a nearby window.
Dabi squeezed his eyes shut, determined to avoid looking down and, more importantly, to avoid throwing up on his hero contact— again.
“I've got you,” Hawks told him, over and over like a prayer. “I've got you, I've got you.”
Dabi let his head drop against Hawks’ chest, listening to the roar of the wind and the rabbit-quick thrum of his heart.
-
He must have passed out, because the next thing he was cognizant of was his own bed beneath him and a cold cloth placed on his forehead. As consciousness trickled back into him, he grew more and more aware of the pain still wracking his body.
Hawks was somewhere beyond the door, speaking frantically.
“He just collapsed and I didn't know what to do, so I brought him here since I figured you might—”
“Cool off, Hawks. He'll be okay.”
Shigaraki. Oh fuck, Hawks was talking to his boss.
Dabi levered himself up by his elbows and instantly regretted it when a wave of dizziness hit him full-force. He slumped back down with a groan and swallowed the urge to vomit. His pulse throbbed in his neck.
Deep breaths, Touya.
If he imagined hard enough, he could feel his mother stroking his hair.
Oh god, don't go there , he thought as his eyes began to burn. Don't, don't—
He needed his mom. He wanted his mom.
His stomach somersaulted.
He pushed himself off the bed and stumbled to the door, wrenching it open and using the wall to stagger down the hallway. If Shigaraki and Hawks were following him, he couldn't tell. His vision was tunneling and his ears were ringing.
By the grace of some god, he reached the bathroom. Going to his knees seemed like a one-way ticket to braining himself on the toilet, so he doubled over the sink instead. Nothing was coming up— just nausea crashing into him over and over like a tide.
“Dabi.”
He didn't need to look up to identify the owner of that familiar rasp— he wouldn't have looked up regardless, he was so dizzy.
"Go away," he grit out. His knuckles went white as he clutched the sides of the sink. Pain rippled through him in unrelenting currents and it took all his concentration not to collapse.
"Don't tell me to go away," Shigaraki replied. Even with all the maturing he'd done these past couple months, he could still be petulant. "I’m your boss."
"You really wanna stick around?" Dabi cracked one eye open. Fuck, it was bright in here. "You’re just dying to watch me throw up in the sink, huh? Sick fuck."
“Thanks so much.” Shigaraki sounded bored, but it was offset by Hawks, who was standing behind him with a look of worry that he wasn't even trying to hide anymore.
“Leave me alone,” he croaked. “Before I kill you both.”
“Awfully rude of you to speak like that to the guy you puked on,” Shigaraki said, jabbing a thumb at Hawks. His flight suit was streaked with vomit.
He opened his mouth to retort, but then a particularly nasty burst of pain raced up his spine and he lurched with a dry-heave.
"Dabi—" Hawks started.
"Don't," he hissed, ashamed to hear the crack in his voice. "Don't— fuck, it's getting worse..."
His nerves lit up, white-hot, and his vision grayed out. Despite clenching his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might shatter, a desperate, pathetic sound tore from his throat. If anyone else heard, they would've thought Dabi was being branded with a poker. It certainly felt like he was.
Dabi’s legs buckled. Hawks and Shigaraki both caught him under the arms and eased him onto the tile.
"Do you need a hospital?" Hawks blurted.
Dabi didn't confirm or deny. If he tried to talk he'd scream or vomit and he wasn't keen on either. He curled up on his side and squeezed his eyes shut, grateful for the coolness of the tile, and tried not to lose consciousness for the second time that day.
"Dabi!" Hawks’ anger was superficial; it poorly disguised his fear.
“Don't shout,” Shigaraki said. “And no hospitals.”
"Turn off the lights," Dabi croaked. His voice was sandpaper to his throat.
There was a beat of silence, followed by the light in the bathroom going out.
“Now fuck off.”
"Don't tell us to fuck off,” Shigaraki snapped. “You scared the shit out of Hawks, you know.”
“No you didn't,” Hawks insisted hurriedly, “I just— I didn't—”
“I don't care,” Dabi growled, even though he did, he cared a whole fucking lot. “Get out.”
Sure, the heat in his body was building fast, and his pain was on a runaway train; if he didn't calm down soon he’d probably burst into flames. But he'd rather endure that alone than prevent it through the care of someone else.
“I c-can’t…” God, it was getting hard to talk again. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. His fucking teeth hurt. “Can't do it,” he spilled out, “with you here, I can’t.”
He was charging head-first into delirium, he could feel it. His surroundings were blurry and grey. Blood trickled from the corners of his eyes and dripped onto the bathroom tile.
“That's too bad,” Shigaraki said, although his tone wasn't as harsh as it usually was. “Because that's the only way we’re gonna do this.”