Chapter Text
Look, Dabi hadn’t meant to fall in love with the pretty flower shop owner.
All he wanted was to pick up some flowers to leave for his mother after feeling guilt-ridden and mad for days. He hadn’t expected the man at the counter to be an actual angel.
Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but the comparison was apt. He really did have wings, ruby red and looking entirely too soft. His eyes and hair were both golden as if they had been dipped in the golden ichor of the gods. And his jaw-line? Absolutely crafted by the gods to spite Dabi. The little blonde curls of his goatee seemed to mock Dabi when he gave that close-eyed smile.
Focus. Flowers for mom. You’re trying to be slightly less shitty of a son than usual.
The man gave a little “welcome” in greeting, but mostly left him alone. Dabi was fine with that. All he needed was to pick some flowers and get out of here.
Except, there were so many. So many different types and colors and sizes and smells and textures that it made his head spin. How was he supposed to find something his mom liked? He hardly remembered what she looked like, much less what her favorite flower was. Maybe something with her favorite color? What was it? White? Blue? Certainly not red…
“Excuse me.”
Dabi nearly jumped. He turned around to see the handsome flower shop worker standing just behind him. He was shocked he hadn’t heard someone sneak beside him.
“What?” Dabi said harshly, looking slightly down at the pretty boy. He tried to inconspicuously zip the high neck of his jacket higher up to conceal his face.
Said pretty boy continued to smile in a lazy, unperturbed manner. His golden eyes were trained on him, but something was different about them. “Well, I could practically feel your nervous energy permeating from this little corner and I was wondering if you needed help finding anything?”
Dabi wondered if he was making up the tone of sarcasm lilting from the employee’s mouth. He almost thought about arguing, snarking back in the same faux-cheery tone. But he really was out of his depth, and maybe just this once he wanted to actually do something nice.
Dabi stifled a sigh. “It’s for my mom.”
The bird-boy practically cooed. “Aw, how sweet. What’s it for? Birthday? Holiday? Just because?”
Dabi thought about it for a second and then decided to answer truthfully. “She’s in the hospital.”
Birdie’s smile fell, eyes sad. “Oh whoa, sorry, man. That’s rough.”
No kidding, Dabi thought to himself.
Birdie brought his tan hands to his chin, picking at the soft hairs as he thought. “Does she have any preference? Color? Smell?”
Dabi shrugged. “Nothing too bright, and absolutely nothing red.”
The man thought for another moment and then snapped his fingers. “I might have an idea,” he said, and suddenly multiple ruby feathers were detaching from his back, flitting around the room. The employee didn’t even look, just casually meandered back to the register. Dabi, in a stupor and distracted by the whirlwind of feathers, merely followed along to the counter.
As soon as they got to the counter, a feather came zipping by with a full bouquet of cool-toned flowers Dabi didn’t know the name of, but the one that stood out the most to him was the cool-blue rindou flowers nestled in. The flower jogged a memory. Rei planting flowers in her garden before Shouto was born. Delicate rindou flowers just beginning to sprout while her belly was heavy with child.
“Well? How about it? The colors to your liking?”
Dabi blinked and he was back in the flower shop, the pretty boy waiting expectantly for Dabi’s answer.
“Yeah, I think this will work. How much?” Dabi asked.
The man waved him off. “Consider it a gift.”
Dabi stared at him. “I physically cannot do that.”
Birdie tilted his head in a manner-befitting of his nickname. “Eh? Why not?” he asked.
“I’m not about taking freebies,” Dabi told him. If he really wanted something, he’d just steal it. But he had money this time, dammit, and he wanted to do something nice for his mom!
The bird scoffed. “Oh you’re one of those types,” he said, and Dabi wasn’t sure what ‘one of those types’ was, but he certainly didn’t like the snark out of the over-grown chicken’s mouth. “Come on, your mom’s in the hospital, I’m sure you’ve got bigger bills to worry about.”
“S’not about the bills,” Dabi argued. He sighed. “Look, I haven’t exactly been around a lot and I just wanted to do something nice for her. With my own money,” he explained.
The man thought about it. “Well when you put it that way…” then he smiled. “Tell you what? How about we compromise? I give you a discount, and you get to pay with your own money. Deal?”
Dabi mulled it over for a moment. “Sure.”
Price was haggled, money was exchanged, and all the while Dabi watched the man. He watched the feathers still delicately floating in the air around the store, wondered how the pretty angel was doing all this. It must’ve been his quirk, but Dabi wondered how it worked. He wasn’t one to care about quirk laws, he was charring bodies with his own quirk every other Tuesday after all, but the pretty bird seemed like too much of a goody two shoes to do something even remotely against the law.
“Sir?”
Dabi looked up at the smiling man, holding out his change and new bouquet. The man looked back, except… he wasn’t really looking.
Oh, it clicked, he’s blind.
A funny expression soured the man’s face, his feathers stopping mid-air, and then he burst out laughing.
And that’s when Dabi realized he’d said that aloud.
“Shit, sorry,” Dabi said. “That was really rude.” Dabi was tempted to pull his high collar up further in embarrassment, not that this guy would notice of course. He was very glad no one else was in the store to see the raging blush he was probably sporting.
“No, no, it’s fine,” the man waved him off, still trying to control his giggles. And Dabi couldn’t stop himself from thinking it was cute. “That was the bluntest reaction I’ve ever gotten.”
Oh, kill me now, God.
“What gave it away?” The man asked after he’d stopped his giggle-fit.
“Your eyes,” Dabi said. “You’re pretty good at following movements, but there’s a little delay.”
The bird whistled. “Observant,” he said.
A feather came in between them, waving at Dabi. “My feathers are super sensitive to touch and sound, so I use them to get around and ‘see’ I guess,” he told him. He pointed at his molten-gold eyes. “I’ve trained my eyes to follow where people are. I’m told I have a bit of an unnerving stare.”
Dabi frowned at that. He didn’t really like that this man felt he had to compensate for something he couldn’t control just to put others at ease. But that wasn’t exactly small talk material, so he didn’t mention it.
Instead, he said. “Damn, that’s pretty impressive.”
The man shrugged. “Eh, not really. I’ve had a lot of practice, you know?”
Dabi nodded, and then realized he couldn’t see him nod. “Yeah, seems right.”
More feathers nudged at his hand lightly, thankfully the healthy skin and not his burnt flesh. “You gonna take your flowers?”
Dabi moved to grab them. “Right, sorry. And, um…” he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, “sorry again for, you know, being blunt.” Apologies were definitely not his strong suit. The words felt wrong on his tongue. Flimsy and certainly not enough.
But the man only giggled again like the songbird he was and shook him off. “No, seriously, it’s fine. You are not the first, and certainly not the worst.” He waved him off. “Now, go on, you’ve got flowers to deliver.”
Dabi bowed, realized that was pointless, and then gave a hum of confirmation.
He heard the happy intonation of “Come again!” as he left the store.
And maybe, just maybe, he’d come again.
For the flowers, of course.
Dabi didn’t get to come again until the next month, when winter had bled into early spring.
The store was a little more bustling than it had been in the winter. There were people mulling about checking out the potted plants and the pre-made bouquets sequestered near the front of the store. Every so often, a red feather would dart about, picking up flowers and tools alike. Dabi nearly dinged himself on a passing feather holding a watering can. The feather seemed to pause before giving an apologetic wave that made a little bit of water slosh down onto the floor. Dabi couldn’t help the low chuckle that came from the scene.
“You’re back!” A familiar voice exclaimed.
Dabi whirred around and, sure enough, the pretty employee was striding jovially towards him.
“You remembered me?” Dabi asked, and he berated himself internally for the shy lilt in his voice.
“How could I not? You were quite blunt.”
Dabi felt embarrassment rise again and pulled the black mask he was wearing tighter on his face. He knew the bird wouldn’t be able to see, but he didn’t want others in the store seeing him red with fluster.
“Sorry,” he said again.
The man waved him off. “No, it’s seriously alright. I’m glad you came back!” he cheered. “How’d your mom like the flowers?”
Dabi didn’t actually know how she felt about them. There was no way a mental hospital would let him anywhere near their establishment with his face. Besides, even if he didn’t look like Frankenstein’s Monster, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to face his mother. There was still too much blood in the water between them both.
“She liked them enough to want another bouquet,” he lied.
It was the right thing to say. Birdie’s whole demeanor lightened. His unseeing eyes were alight with pride and Dabi had to pull up the mask again to hide another flush.
“That’s great!” he cheered. “Your mom likes the blue rindous, right?”
Dabi nodded, cursed internally, and then verbally hummed a confirmation. “Can it just be the rindous actually?” Dabi asked.
“Sure thing, Hot Stuff!”
Dabi’s healthy skin went red for a third time. “Hot Stuff?” Dabi asked.
Birdie hummed. “Yeah? What is it, not a nicknames guy?”
“You don’t even know what I look like,” Dabi blurted.
Birdie only gave another sweet-sounding laugh. “Your temperature, Hot Stuff. You run hotter than average, and you always come in smelling a little like smoke. Probably got to do with your quirk, right?”
“Smart bird,” Dabi answered. “How can you tell my temperature?”
Birdie pointed to his feather flitting through the air. “Sensitive feathers, remember? They pick up a lot more than you’d think.”
Dabi considered that. He supposed it was a little strange that Birdie had known who he was despite him not having uttered a word and not been around in over a month. The feather’s sensitivity must help him distinguish people.
“It’s not overwhelming?” Dabi asked.
Birdie thought about it, leading them towards the register. “Sometimes, yeah. All my feathers input a lot of information all of the time, but I’m pretty used to it by now.”
“Um,” Dabi started, “this is probably a really stupid question, but, when I first came in and asked for flowers, all I mentioned was color. Can your feathers...?”
Another honey-sweet laugh. “No, no. My feathers can’t tell color. I have a specific way of organizing my plants so I know what’s what without needing to see. My assistant helps me organize new shipments so I always know where things are,” Birdie explained.
More feathers continued to run about the room at a dizzying pace. Dabi was surprised at Birdie’s level of multitasking. The feathers combined with the fragrant smells and vibrant colors only added to the almost mystical feeling of the shop. The bird himself was bright with life and cheer, glowing in the afternoon sun.
He almost looks like a fairy, Dabi thought.
Birdie squawked in indignation, and oh, Dabi’s brain-to-mouth filter was clearly busted, because he’d said that aloud.
“I am not a fairy!” Hawks exclaimed. He fanned out his wings haughtily. “I clearly have feathered wings. If you ask me, I’m far more like a Hawk than a fairy.”
“Or a peacock,” was Dabi’s snarky response. Should he be riling up the cute flower shop employee? Probably not. Was it fun? Absolutely.
The affronted gasp he got as a result only made it better.
“You know, I was gonna let you take the bouquet for free, but now I’m seriously reconsidering,” he said, wings twitching to show his annoyance.
Speaking of, a feather darted around the corner, holding the bouquet of rindous and depositing them in Dabi’s arms.
“You gonna let me pay for them properly now?” Dabi asked.
Birdie hummed in a non-committal sort of way, letting his faux-anger dissipate to consider the question. “How’s about I give you the Hot Stuff, discount?”
Dabi gave him a look he knew he wouldn’t see. “That’s obviously not real.”
“Sure it is. This is my shop and therefore my rules,” Birdie said. “From this day forward, you shall get the 50% off Hot Stuff discount!” He announced.
Dabi chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep coming back to claim it, huh?”
Dabi took pride in the way the Birdie’s attached feathers fluffed up happily.
Dabi did continue to come back frequently.
Nearly every week, he came by to pick up a bouquet and chat with the golden-boy.
(He really hoped his mother was enjoying her flowers, because she was getting a lot of them).
The topics stayed mundane. Neither of them offered much outside of casual chat which was great for Dabi. He was glad Birdie wasn’t nosy, even if he secretly wished he could know a little more about him.
Every time Dabi came in, it was just Birdie working, with his cheery smile, and engaging wit. Even though Dabi knew Birdie had an assistant, he’d never seen hide or tail of them once. It really was just the bird and his handy-dandy feathers. A one man show.
One day, Dabi came in to the shop empty, save for one songbird, and a radio sitting on the counter playing some sort of sporting thing.
“Yo, didn’t think you’d come today,” Birdie called, beckoning him over to the counter.
“And miss my favorite pigeon? Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dabi drawled. He took off his face mask, knowing no one was here to see the burnt flesh on his jaw.
Birdie’s feathers bristled, his face contorting into a pout. “How many times do I have to tell you?? I’m not a pigeon or a peacock or whatever other bird. I’m a Hawk!”
“Okay, okay, don’t get your feathers in a twist, chicken,” he said.
The chicken himself “hmphed” crossing his arms and continuing to pout.
“At this rate, you’ll lose your discount,” Birdie threatened.
“Oh, you’ll finally let me pay my dues, then?”
More bristling. “For that, you’ll get an extra discount. The Snarky-Hot-Stuff 75% limited time discount!”
Dabi chuckled despite himself. He didn’t know why the bird was so against letting him pay full price. It couldn’t be good for his profit margins. Yet, he was adamant Dabi continue getting his flowers at half the price of the other patrons.
He was startled from his musings when he heard his name on the radio. Rather, he heard Todoroki being yelled through the speakers.
“Whatcha got on Birdie?” Dabi asked, keeping his tone casual despite the way his heart seemed to jump at the mention of his long-forgotten family name.
Birdie cocked his head to the side in a manner that was distinctly bird-like and Dabi would’ve appreciated it more if he wasn’t so curious about the answer.
“You don’t know? UA’s Sports Festival is going on today. It’s broadcasting literally everywhere.” Birdie informed him.
“Oh,” Dabi answered dumbly. Todoroki. It wasn’t him. It must be his baby brother.
Shouto.
Dabi felt his lips curl in the beginnings of a snarl. His relationship with his brother was complicated to say the least. On one hand, all the Todoroki kids in that house had been abused in different ways, Shouto, and the man Dabi used to be getting the brunt of it.
On the other hand, he was Endeavor’s precious creation. And it seemed his dear baby brother had followed in his Dear-Old-Dad’s footsteps to becoming a hero. It was sick. He couldn’t stop the curl of disgust rising at the idea. It was an ugly feeling, but Dabi was used to being ugly inside and out.
Now that he was hearing the broadcast though, he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from it. From what it sounded like, they were in some sort of calvary battle, with his little brother having just nabbed first place.
“You know,” the songbird’s voice cut through Dabi’s sour thoughts, “I haven’t gotten any customers today because everybody’s either at the Festival or watching it at home, and I get kinda lonely with the just the flowers for company.” He paused, wings flicking in a way that denoted nervousness. “Would you want to listen to it with me?”
Dabi mulled it over for a moment. He didn’t really want to hear about his brother’s exploits, not when his feelings were so raw and ragged, but he also really liked the flower shop owner and maybe he wouldn’t feel so raw with Birdie and his sweet voice that held a surprising amount of wit and bite.
“Sure, Birdie,” he agreed.
Before he could even blink, a plush chair was saddled behind him, knocking into his knees and forcing him to fall bodily into it. He must’ve made a bit of a ruckus because the bird was chuckling at him. Dabi was sure the dirty pigeon could feel the glare Dabi was shooting his way. The bird himself chose to perch on the counter, legs hanging close enough that if Dabi reached out just a few inches, he’d be able to touch them. Not that he would. Or that he wanted to. It was just an observation.
There they sat listening to the Sports Festival. Occasionally the bird would whoop and holler, wings fanning out in excitement, and taking up all of Dabi’s attention. They looked so soft. Dabi bet they’d feel heavenly on his skin. He wondered if he’d be able to feel the gentle press of those plush feathers on his burnt-to-hell flesh. Not that Dabi’d ever make the bird touch him. He already knew how hyper-sensitive he was to sensations. He’d never subject him to the touch of ribbed skin and metallic staples.
“Didn’t know you were that much of a sports fan,” Dabi spoke after the 5th cheer.
Birdie shrugged. “Not really. I know one of the first years doing the Sports Festival.”
“What, like your son?” Dabi jested.
“Yep!” Birdie said, smiling wide.
Dabi froze, choking on his words, and then the Bird was laughing in a rather raucous manner, head thrown back and breath hiccupping.
“Oh man, you went so quiet. I wish I could see your face,” he wiped away some imaginary tears. “No, he’s not really my kid.”
“Then why’d you say it, dumb-pigeon?” Dabi grumbled.
“Mostly to see what you’d do,” Birdie said, mirth present in his tone. “No, I’m just really close to his family. They helped me get settled when I moved to Musutafu and I’ve known him since he was, like 11.” He giggled again. “People get so confused when I call him my chick. It’s pretty funny.”
“You’re a strange little bird, you know that?” Dabi asked, only half-serious.
“Yeah, but you’re choosing to hang with me in an empty flower shop, so what does that say about you?” Birdie retaliated.
“Nothing good, I guess,” Dabi answered.
The bird chuckled. “No, I guess not.”
From then on, Dabi would pop by not just for flowers, but for the company, and Birdie never called him out for it, seeming to enjoy those meetings too. If the shop was relatively empty, Dabi would loiter, sometimes for hours on end, just trading words with the beautiful bird. It became a highlight of Dabi’s week to come into the shop and just breathe in the fragrance of flowers as he talked and bantered, and sometimes laughed with the man he was certain at this point was secretly a god sent down from the heavens.
It almost made him forget about the hatred and pain still bubbling beneath the surface of his shredded skin.
Almost.
Then Stain was captured, his message sent out to the world, and then Dabi went out to meet the absolute worst boss he’d ever had the displeasure to come into contact with. And that was saying something. He’d worked in fast food before.
And then this League of Villains, as they were calling themselves (seriously, what a stupid name) were planning an infiltration on UA’s summer camp.
And suddenly he wasn’t spending much time at the flower shop, now too busy doing the bidding of his poor excuse for a boss. He couldn’t deny that his mood had pretty much entirely soured now that he had less free time to see his favorite shop owner. But this was something Dabi had to do.
The LOV may be full of batshit crazy people and fanatics that would give Dabi a run for his money, but they were useful to his goals. Taking down hero society, and most importantly Endeavor, would have to come first over the flower shop owner with his molten gold eyes, and soft ruby wings, and caramel blonde tresses…
Yeah, this LOV gig was hell.
Still, the satisfaction of seeing his baby brother, Endeavor’s Finest Creation, shell shocked and despairing gave him a rush. Dabi was finally taking something away from him instead of the other way around. He couldn’t care less about the loud and bratty kid, whose neck he had gripped. All that mattered was daddy’s little hero lost for once.
Getting knocked out and nearly getting captured in a hero raid was definitely not as satisfying, however, and kind of ruined any dopamine rush he’d felt before.
Dabi supposed he should be grateful his allies hadn’t immediately abandoned him after he’d been incapacitated. They at least had the decency to check over his injuries and make sure he didn’t die. This was still the worst job he’d ever had though.
Dabi didn’t dare go back to the shop so soon after the incident. Now people knew his face, and even if the shop owner couldn’t see it, other people might recognize him, which wouldn’t be good for his business to say the least.
It was nearly two weeks after when he finally dared to go back, and Dabi didn’t even go in the shop. It was evening and the store had already closed for the day. The street was emptying as the twilight sky deepened, and no one paid Dabi a second glance with his mask and glasses on.
He just needed to see that it was still there. That it hadn’t changed in his absence. He looked at the building, nestled between a drug store and some other nondescript building with a fading logo. The pastel floral shop logo looked out of place next to the mundanity of the other buildings. He wondered if the little sign out front had been hand painted with its small, barely there smudges, and pretty lettering. He took a moment to breathe in the air, and was happy when it came off slightly floral-scented. He wished his favorite florist was here. The heat of summer was still beating down on him despite the sun having gone down, and the black hoodie covering his scars wasn’t helping matters.
His attention was taken away by a commotion, coming from one of the alleyways. Dabi listened closer and, yes, it was his bird speaking along with two other unidentifiable voices. He snuck by the alleyway, hiding just out of sight, listening in.
“Hey, man, I don’t want any trouble now,” his bird was saying, probably holding up his hands in a placating manner.
“C’mon, now,” one grunt said, “pretty thing like you’s gotta have some serious cash.”
“Nope, I literally just have this trash bag. That I’m trying to take. To the trash,” Birdie said, punctuating his words with a shuffle. There was a sound, like someone being shoved against a wall and a small whimper came from his mouth.
“C’mon, Ryu,” the other guy was saying, “just grab it and go we don’t have time for this.”
The other guy, Ryu apparently, tsked. “But we were just starting to have fun, weren’t we, angel?”
And at that moment, Dabi had had enough.
He took off his mask and glasses and rolled his sleeves up. He wanted these thugs to know who they were messing with.
“There a problem here?” Dabi said, announcing his presence.
Ryu didn’t even look up from where he had the bird pinned to the wall. “Hey, can’t you see we’re busy here?”
But his partner had looked up, and now he looked scared.
“Ryu, we gotta go.”
“I said-”
“Ryu, now!”
That got his attention, and when he finally looked up, his face contorted from anger to pure, unadulterated terror. Good. They knew who he was.
Ryu abruptly let go of the bird, and then he and his lackey bolted, not looking back to see if Dabi was following. Dabi let them go, more concerned with the bird, who had slumped down to the floor now that nothing was holding him up.
Dabi couldn’t help the way he rushed up to him. It was like his body had abandoned any pretense of seeming cold and unbothered when he saw the florist fall.
“Oi, Birdie, you good?” he asked, hovering over him.
The bird’s shoulders were shaking and Dabi only had a split second to be worried before his bird was laughing, loud and bright in the dark alleyway.
“That was amazing!” he cheered, and his unseeing eyes shined with mirth. “You really had them running for their lives!”
Dabi’s heart did a weird studder and he paused to watch the bird smiling widely up at him. The little sunlight left spotlighted his features and made him glow.
Then he regained his composure and tsked. He held out a hand. “Come on, let me help you up.”
Birdie grabbed his hand and let Dabi haul him up. He was surprisingly light for his build.
“You’re lucky I was walking by.” Dabi grumbled. “Imagine what would’ve happened if I hadn’t heard you guys.”
“Oh, I would’ve handled them just fine, but thanks anyway, Hot Stuff,” Birdie said. Their hands were still connected, Dabi noted, the bird having not let go. His thumb brushed against Dabi’s staples and deadened skin, making his brow furrow.
Dabi quickly pulled away and took a step back. He didn’t want to disgust the poor bird after nearly getting mugged.
“Oh?” Dabi questioned. “How would you have ‘handled’ them, then?”
Birdie brought a feather up between them. To Dabi’s surprise, the feather hardened. The once plush-looking feather now looked like it could cut through solid metal.
Dabi whistled. “Impressive. Didn’t realize those feathers were for more than just running errands.”
He moved the feather back to the rest of his plumage. “Yeah, I don’t tend to announce that part of my quirk,” he said. “Better for your enemy to underestimate you then to reveal all your cards, you know?”
“You make a habit of getting mugged in an alleyway?” Dabi asked.
“I try not to,” he answered. “You make a habit of saving damsels in distress in an alleyway?”
“I try not to,” Dabi mimicked.
Birdie’s demeanor changed to something Dabi couldn’t read. “It was awful convenient of you to show up. Right when I needed.”
“I really was just in the area, Pigeon,” Dabi deflected.
The Bird merely hummed. He didn’t even seem miffed about the nickname. “And those thugs seemed really terrified of you. Ran pretty fast, too,” he continued.
Dabi froze. “What are you getting at?” he asked, voice coming out low and guarded.
He knew the bird had caught on to it. He was terrifyingly intelligent and observant, which was not working in Dabi’s favor.
“I know what you are.”
Dabi swallowed thickly. He knew his exploits as a villain were getting more recognition. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone in the police force had profiled him already. He was hoping word of his villainy hadn’t reached the florist’s little shop, but it seemed, as always, luck was not in his favor.
“What am I, then?” Dabi asked.
This was it. He’d be revealed as a villain and this thing they had going would end.
“You’re a hero!” Birdie cheered.
…
What the fuck?
“What?” Dabi asked weakly.
“Oh come on, don’t play coy with me. It’s obvious.” Birdie said.
“Huh?” Dabi’s melted brain was still stuck on the word ‘hero.’ There were no more thoughts in his head.
The bird managed to roll his eyes for Dabi’s benefit. “You show up just at the right at the right place, those low-level villains go running for the hills as soon as you show up.” The stupid chicken had the audacity to smell him. “You’ve always got a faint smell of smoke on you, and you run warm. I bet you have a fire quirk, huh?” The bird smirked. “Bet it’s real flashy too, huh?”
Dabi shook himself out of his stupor. “Hold on, hold on,” he said. “Even if all those things are true-”
“So you do have a fire quirk!” Birdie interrupted.
“Ugh, look, it doesn’t matter what my quirk is because all those things wouldn’t mean I’m a hero!” Dabi exclaimed. “Just because my quirk is flashy doesn’t mean-”
He barely managed to avoid the knife-sharp feather from stabbing his eye out. He turned to the side just as it whizzed passed him and lodged itself into the wall behind him with a thunk.
Dabi turned incredulously to the man, who was smirking knowingly.
“What the fuck was that for?” Dabi growled.
“Hah, I knew it!” He exclaimed, pointing at Dabi. “There’s no way you could’ve avoided that if you didn’t have training!”
“And if you were wrong?! What then?!”
Birdie had the audacity to shrug his shoulders. “Oops,” he said.
“Oops?!”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m right. We both know I’m right. So, just confirm I’m right and we can go on our merry way.” The bird said, so smug and self-satisfied.
Dabi couldn’t begin to explain how wrong the man was. He wanted to bang his head against the wall. Wanted to go back to the ruined bar and pour himself a stiff drink. He was about to explain just exactly how wrong this stupid dodo was but…
…But he looked really happy about it.
Dabi could see the sparkle in his golden eyes and the happy upturn of his mouth. This reality, where Dabi was a mysterious hero that had come to save him in the nick of time…
He didn’t want to take that away from him.
Instead, Dabi’s mind latched onto something else the bird had said.
“Hang on, you said only someone with training could avoid that little move you did,” Dabi said. “Wouldn’t that imply you’ve had training?”
Birdie made a noise like the sound of a buzzer. “Sorry, you don’t have enough friendship points to unlock my tragic backstory,” he jested. “You could fast-track that process by confirming you’re a hero, though!”
Dabi scoffed. “Whatever,” he deflected.
Birdie whined like a petulant child. “Oh come on, Hot Stuff, is that any way to treat a friend?”
Dabi’s breath caught. “We’re friends?” he asked.
Birdie stopped, and Dabi was treated to the pretty sight of a rosy blush on his face, barely visible in the low light. “I mean, I kinda considered you a friend since we hang sometimes and you come to my shop often,” his wings curled inward, “but I guess you’re actually just a customer and I went and made it weird, so…”
“W-Wait, no, just-” Dabi stuttered. “Friends, that’s-” he huffed. “I mean I think of you as a friend, too but I don’t even know your name, and…”
“Oh,” Birdie said. “Yeah, I guess names are important for a friendship, huh?” he said.
Dabi didn’t have an answer to that.
“Here, I can tell you my name, then.”
He held out his hand between them. “Hello, my name is Keigo,” he said with a smile.
“No family name?” Dabi asked.
Keigo shook his head. “No family name. You can unlock that by giving me your hero name,” he joked.
Dabi rolled his eyes and then looked at the hand outstretched between them.
“You gonna give me a name, or do I have to keep calling you Hot Stuff, Hot Stuff?”
Dabi mulled it over. This was a bad idea. A horrible idea. But…
He held his hand out, not quite touching Keigo’s own.
“Touya.”
“Hm, doesn’t sound like a Pro Hero name…” Keigo said, a bit pouty. “No family name?” he asked.
“Tit for tat,” Dabi said in response.
To his surprise, Keigo found his hand and gripped it in a tight squeeze.
“It’s nice to meet you, Touya,” he said all sunshine and smiles and wow, Dabi could get used to hearing that name from his mouth.
Dabi couldn’t stop himself from squeezing the smooth hand back.
“You too, Keigo.”