Then I guess you'll just have to get your ass beat with the rest of those bastards. [The swig he takes of the vodka bottle isn't big or long. Just enough to burn going down, to make him cough gently.
He sets the bottle down on the side of the couch, out of sight and out of reach, out of the way. For both of them maybe.
Then he turns and drops down onto the couch closest to where he had been standing. His eyes wander the living room briefly, and it's surprising that someone so rowdy and mouthy can have such an intelligent look about them when it's time to be smart. There's not a lot here to describe Dabi as a person.
It feels more like a squatting place.] How come none of you have ever killed him?
We'll see. I'm not gonna tell you any of my ultimate plans to get rid of my old man, but even if I get my ass kicked and tossed into Tartarus, as long as he's out of the picture, I'll feel better.
[ Dabi slumped down into his couch, head tilting back as he heard Bakugou give the characteristic cough of a swig from the vodka before the couch bounced under the blond's weight. He doesn't move or say anything for a while, just closes his eyes to wait for the room to stop spinning.
His room pretty much is a squatting area. Just walls and a roof over his head, a place to sleep, to eat and to piss. When you're a villain, you don't really have the luxury of personal items unless you manage to keep a low profile so Dabi's lucky to just have a television and shitty blu-ray player from a local pawn shop. ]
Mmm... that's a bit more complicated. I dunno about Shouto and the others... but for me I knew I wouldn't ever be able to beat him. Once I was out of the house, he'd have kept his guard up against me coming back. Besides... death is too good for him in my opinion. I want him to suffer and have to face the consequences of the shit he's done. Let the world know about it all and make him live in that infamy for a bit before he gets to die.
[Damn, he really was sitting on the couch with a villain. As much as he huffs and puffs so bluntly about killing someone, he's sure he'd have a lot of regret if it had to happen by his hands.
Taking a life, even a bad person's life, isn't as simple as saying, Die, would make it out to be.
This is accounting for the prior torture. How far of a stone's throw had he really been from being a villain, after doing similar things for so long to Izuku? The reasonings were different, but he still did them. It plagues him. The idea the League thought he would be a good candidate for villainy. What does that say about him? How he acted?]
You're real fucked up.
Making an example outta Endeavor as a villain isn't going to do shit against his reputation. If everyone loves him, they're gonna love him ten times more when they feel sorry for him because he's getting attacked.
Whatever he did, if half the shit you're saying is true, then you should all go to the police. You just told me his career meant more to him than his family, right? Then ruin his fucking career. Legally. Publically. Everything else is null and void. You think he can't take broken bones? Burnt skin? Tch.
[ Dabi knew how hard it was to take a life. As easy as it is for him to do now, there was a time when it kept him up for days and fucked with his head so badly that he still remembered the man's face and screams of agony.
Which is where the vodka came in.
Dabi had had his doubts about whether Bakugou would accept their offer, but it wasn't as if he could voice those doubts. It was all part of Shigaraki's grand scheme and he hadn't even known about the existence of this sensei until he was watching the masked man floating over them after being forced to vomit what still tastes like sewage to him. Like a lot of things, Dabi just goes with the flow since the League is his best chance to meet his own personal goals. ]
Congrats on figuring that out. Only took, what? An hour or two?
As long as they just know the truth about him... know the type of man he is behind closed doors... that'll be enough for me. Even if I die because of it or get thrown away in some hole and the key's thrown away for good... it'll be enough.
[ He'll feel guilty about taking himself away from Shouto all over again... forcing the youngest Todoroki to grieve his loss hadn't been easy the first time, but it was beyond his control. ]
That's already part of my plan. But it's a little more complicated than just waltzing into a police station and showing them the bruises and scars he's given us. He doesn't look it, but the motherfucker is smart and he's got plenty of really fucking good lawyers. He's already gotten his way out of social services and a police investigation when my mom threw boiling water on Shouto's face.
[It's no surprise when both hands squeeze into fists on his thighs and start crackling. Like crushing a handful of popping fireworks that go off when thrown against the ground. A little bit of burnt sugar with an edge of something sort of like the smell of gasoline, something dangerous.]
I'll kill you. [Which is about the only thing he can say as a rebuttal to being mocked.] You're... so fucking... stupid.
Throwing your damn life away! It's bad enough they ain't fucking seen you in however long! You think they're just gonna be happy over some stupid bullshit like that? "Our brother is dead, but thank fuck Dad's gone"?
[The swing is sudden, and there's no real wind-up other than him twisting at the waist. He socks Dabi in the cheek and jaw, completely lacking a lot of the oomph he usually puts into most things involving his fists.]
You dumb bastard! They're your family, and they'd give more of a shit that you're even alive over whether or not Endeavor is being punished for being a piece of shit!
[ He smelled the boy's hands firing off more than he heard them. A mere groan leaving him as Bakugou gave his usual phrase and called him stupid. ]
You don't think it'd be something like that? As if they'd want me back after all this time. Once Shouto figures out who I am and what I've been doing the past ten years... he's a hero. And he still lives under our old man's thumb as much as he probably tells himself he doesn't give a fuck about that fucker.
[ The punch to his jaw was the last thing he expected, even considering his guest was the most violent hero-in-training at U.A. Eyes shoot open to glare at the boy, his own reflexes just barely quick enough to grab his wrist and yank him closer even as he's still being yelled at. ]
My life doesn't fucking matter! Don't you get that, yet? I used to tell myself all the time that they cared. That one day they'd find me somehow and tell me it's okay to come back or that they've come to join me. But no. They fucking chose him. They fucking chose to let me fend for myself.
I'm already fucking dead to them. Don't you fucking get it?!
[The grab makes him off balanced; he throws out his other hand against the back of the couch to support him. The arm Dabi holds is rigid, taut, but he only jerks on it once. He’s not exactly scared; however, he can acknowledge the punch was brash, and he’s cautious about Dabi’s quirk. Being in a squat apartment or not.
Not taking any chances, he slides his hand off the couch and bunches it instead in the collar of Dabi’s shirt.
Unfortunately, the more Dabi talks, the more Bakugou’s brows come together. Theoretically, he gets it. But he hasn’t lived it. He doesn’t understand. How could he really?]
It’s fucking Endeavor! Number Two hero! Now Number One! You’re a dumbass if you think they’re all gonna react the same way you did! Just because they tucked tail doesn’t mean they fucking hate you, idiot! It doesn’t mean you’re dead to them! Stop being fucking dramatic!
[ He keeps his grip firm on the blond's arm, hand heating only slightly before he forces himself to stop. He was telling the truth that he didn't want to hurt Bakugou. Even the last time they met he hadn't wanted to harm him beyond following orders to capture him again. Dabi's anger comes easily, just as easily as Bakugou's anger comes forth.
Just so he's even with the grab to his collar, Dabi's own free hand fists in the front of the boy's shirt. Making sure that even if he thought he could get away before, there was no escaping now.
The more the blond shouted, the more Dabi's face grimmaced with both anger and pain. Soon, the hand gripping the younger's arm is shaking as he tries to keep his control and the vodka hits him in a way he hadn't intended. ]
My sister wants me to apologize to him. Me. Apologize. To him. After she watched me burn myself alive just to fucking please him. If they don't consider me dead, I fucking want them to. It's not being fucking dramatic when you don't know the fucking things he's done, kid.
There's only one person that understands my hatred for that man and it's Shouto. And if you can't then... just go the fuck home.
[ With that he finally let go, near shoving the boy away as he stood from the couch. With hobbling steps, he made for the refrigerator where he kept his cigarettes and slammed open the sliding door that led to a small balcony. ]
[It's enough of a warning. Bakugou still isn't afraid, but the hand in his jacket and the tinge of heat on his arm is enough to make him wary. Keep him stiff and tense.
When Dabi releases him and shoves him back, he rolls toward the other end of the couch and stares. He scraped by in this one, not that he'd go down without a fight. Luckily, Dabi doesn't seem to want to bother with him.
Frowning sourly, he watches Dabi leave for the kitchen, come away and to the balcony. For a moment, he simply sits up on the couch and tries to keep his heart from racing so wildly, full of adrenaline. His hand straightens out the hoodie, and he stands.
Considers doing what Dabi told him to do: leave. But... things feel unfinished. Unsaid. What business is it of his, though? Why does he give a shit?
At first, he walks to the door, stops halfway there, turns around and goes back. His footsteps are loud enough to be heard at the sliding door, and they stop on the inside.]
[ His hands find his hair, raking through dyed dark strands as he skulked about grabbing his smokes and tapping one out to light up.
It doesn't help at first, but with each puff the nicotine calms his nerves and the stiffness in his shoulders loosen up from their bow taut posture. Dabi expects Bakugou to storm out of his apartment with a bit more shouting and cursing. Instead just when he thinks he's about to hear the front door open and slam shut, he picks up the sound of socked feet approaching as he leans against the balony's railing. ]
See him? And say what? "Hey, Shouto. Long time no see. Sorry about kidnapping your buddy over the summer."
He doesn't need to ever see me. As far as he's concerned I'm in South Korea eeking out a living on some fishing trawler.
You're the fucking one who said he understood more than anybody else.
[Stupid bastard.
Bakugou's not good at this side of hero work: talking to people, comforting people. Hell, he can't even admit and compartmentalize his own goddamn emotions without throwing some kind of punches, yelling. Everything comes out in his fists, his quirk, how he feels. Fuck.]
You know, he got all the way to the fucking festival without using your shitty old man's quirk, right? He was garbage, thinking he could get away with just ice. Then that goddamn shrimpy nerd had to be the one to put his stupid head on straight.
[Both fists crackle gently when he squeezes them by his sides. Something vividly etched into his memory, the fact Todoroki wouldn't fight him with everything, and his win was a sham. That's not the point, though.]
Maybe it isn't about you talkin' to him. Maybe it's about him talkin' to you. Whatever Endeavor did to him, he's not gonna let it keep him from becoming the hero he wants to become. I can fucking respect that, at least.
But here you are, letting him make you into a monster even now. You ain't never escaped it. Running with the League means you're as much Endeavor's little throwaway plaything as before.
He understands what it's like to be pushed directly by that man. Shouto is still a hero, though, so I find it hard to believe he'd accept that his big brother Touya is the same guy that's been burning thugs alive all over town.
[ It probably was stupid of him. And stubborn. And petty. But Dabi was just that convinced that revealing himself to Shouto would do much more harm than good. He was regretting letting it slip even to Bakugou because of the mess it's made of things. ]
I saw that. They televised it all, remember? .... Honestly I was proud of him using only mom's Quirk that far into the tournament. It proved that even as strong as he is with both running at once, he was still powerful enough to make it to the semi-finals on half his power alone.
[ Pausing, he looked over at the boy with fingers holding the cigarette to his lips. ]
If only he hadn't fucked up and let his concentration waver, right?
[ Dabi himself still wasn't entirely sure of who would have won had Shouto used both his fire and ice the way he had against Midoriya. ]
Look... it's not that easy to just let go of the things that happened and go reconnect with whatever parts of my family might actually want me around. Let me put it in perspective for you....
Have you been able to forget about when we took you? How many nights have you woken up thinking about when I dragged you through the portal?
If you were ready to blast my head off when I first yanked your hood down at the store, just stretch that feeling out over ten years. Those- what? Two days you were with us? Stretch it out to the fifteen years I lived as a Todoroki.
Sure we're standing here now talking... but can you tell me it'd be the same story with Shouto if he found out about me?
[Slowly, Bakugou's face crumples, though there's not much difference between this and the usual resting bitch face he's always wearing. He glares for a long moment at Dabi out on the balcony, turns his head away, a soft snap to the side. More glaring. He looks back afterward, still having come to any decision on how to tackle this.
Really, it's not his business, just a waste of time, or so he thinks.]
Shut the hell up... [The response alone is evidence enough he's still rattled and pissed about the kidnapping. More so because he had dealt with such a tough time afterward regarding All Might's retirement. Blaming himself. Feeling weak, useless. Always taken. Always causing trouble.] Listen, you fuck.
I don't exactly give a shit about you or Half 'n Half, or your bastard old man outside of being a capable hero. Do what you want. I'm just saying it's fucking stupid to assume you won't get nothin' out of talking to him.
You don't know how it'll go until you actually do it.
Otherwise, whatever. But if you keep being a damn villain, don't think we won't smear the ground with what's left of you. We're gonna be fucking heroes, and there's no room for you around here.
[ He almost feels bad for the way Bakugou's face crumples. In the long pause, Dabi finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the edge of the balcony. After flicking it out to the side where it'll land in the grass below (he's still a villain, alright?), he turns to head back inside the warmth of his apartment.
The response from the blond draws a small scoff from Dabi as he sits on the couch once more and puts a foot up on the coffee table. ]
I'm just assuming that it'd do him more harm than good for me to out myself, okay? What benefits are there gonna be for him to know that I'm a villain? You can probably already guess there's no real way to change my mind about shit. You'll just be hurting him.
[ Finally, Dabi gives a sigh and runs a hand down his face, looking all the more tired with the scars under his eyes resembling bags. ]
Look... I can't stop you in the end. If you wanna tell him, do it. If you think something will actually come of it, whatever. I'd even commend you for trying.
But unless there's a way I can know it won't just fuck him up even more... I'm keeping my mouth shut.
[Bakugou only partially moves as Dabi comes back in through the sliding door, making sure he doesn't give enough room, so the man has to at least bump against him some. It's a kind of typical Bakugou peacocking. A refusal to back down, a refusal to be afraid of anything coming his way.
Iida would absolutely have a cow about the cigarette; it's low on Bakugou's radar.]
I'm not some fucking messenger boy. I don't even wanna see Halfy's face much less run to tell him some bullshit about one of the League being his brother. He can find out that shit on his own if he hasn't already.
[Slowly, he turns away from the door and around.] You all are a goddamn disaster. [Coming from one disaster to another, on separate levels.] Half's already fucked up. If you were watching, you'd have seen it. The look in his eyes.
He dips out almost every weekend; funny, considering we aren't supposed to be leaving exactly. Right? Heard it's 'cause he visits his mom.
So even if he's fucked up, even if he's been through some of the worst shit imaginable, he's still trying to be a hero. That means he's going to be some dumbass softy if he found out about you. He'd waste his time trying to help you.
I'm not like him, though. I'm not gonna feel sorry for you just because you've got a sob story.
[ The bump into Bakugou makes him stumble as he pushes past, one hand catching himself on the edge of the door as the other grabs the younger by his shoulder lest he faceplant onto hardwood flooring. ]
We've come to an accord on that, then. Unless something manages to change my mind, I'm fine with keeping up the front I've already got with him.
[ His hand flounders a bit against the couch, seeking out the vodka for another long drink. ]
And yet you think the guy that caused all us to become fucking disasters is a good hero. Doesn't surprise me he wants to visit our mom,though....
[ Dabi gives a long sigh as Bakugou continues to rant at him about Shouto, a hand running down his face as he sinks into the couch further. ]
Mom isn't a fucked up villain, though. I mean... sure she burned his face when she snapped in the head. But she isn't a murderer. She didn't kidnap one of his classmates.
Good, though. Cause I don't want any fucking pity. I just need some booze and a good, hard fuck now and then when I'm not working and actively playing the big bad monster part. So if you can't give me either of those, I don't want anything, kid.
[His gait is easy and slow when he moves from the door to the balcony over toward the couch. At first, it looks like he might turn and continue on to the front door to leave, but he stops at the edge of the couch on the side where he had hidden the bottle of vodka.
Reaching down, he picks it up by the neck, doesn't offer it out yet.] Villains must reach an all time damn low if they're wanting pity fucks from kids. Nah, you gotta prove you're worth what I give. I don't do handouts. [His arm extends. He offers the bottle of vodka, but he keeps a hold of the neck even if Dabi takes it, refusing to let it go so easily.]
If you wanna be sloppy seconds to your brother again. I've fucked him, once. Halfy. Everyone thinks he's some goody-two-shoes, but he loves playing with danger. He earned it, though, my wrath. We had a contest, and he forfeited like a coward because he hated the taste of vodka.
[ Just as he thought he was going to be left alone to stew in his own misery, Bakugou surprises him once again by grabbing the vodka. Scarred lips open to tell him to fuck off, but instead he's cut off and left staring in surprise at the younger. ]
Who said anything about a pity fuck? If I don't want regular pity, I sure a fuck don't want pity fucking.
[ When his hand closes over the bottle and it's obvious Bakugou isn't letting go, he yanks hard to drag the boy down onto his lap. ]
I wouldn't call it sloppy seconds if you only fucked him as part of a bet. And that's where we differ in the end... vodka's my vice.
[ The elder took a swig of the alcohol still held between them, but instead of swallowing the mouthful, he wrapped a hand around the back of the blond's neck and yanked him in to press their lips together roughly. Tongue sliding into Bakugou's mouth, he sloppily fed him the shot of vodka, despite a good bit of it dripping down both of their chins before he managed to get some into the other's lips. ]
How's that for starters?
[ To emphasize his point, his teeth caught the other's bottom lip and gave a tug. ]
[Shockingly, Bakugou actually looks briefly surprised when Dabi exerts force on the bottle and yanks it, pulling him down with it. He stumbles, stretches an arm out, but can't reach the back of the couch, so he clamps it on Dabi's shoulder instead before sprawling haphazardly over the man's thighs.]
Fuck off, basta--
[The lips aren't nearly as startling as the stinging alcohol being dumped in his mouth. He squeezes the shoulder in his hand, reaching up with the other to shove his palm against Dabi's collar, though not to peel them apart so much as get some reprieve from the vodka.
It burns all the way down, and he sputters, coughs, and the growl that comes out of him is gurgled and hoarse when Dabi bites into his bottom lip. Shoving again, he cracks their foreheads together, not roughly, but not gently either, enough to get Dabi to back out of his space hopefully.
It's not fear; there's a thrill there. A challenging excitement. Maybe not for everyone in a situation like this, but especially for him.] Shithead.
I fucked him because I was drunk and wanted to, not because of a bet.
[ It's satisfying to see the surprised look on the boy's face when Dabi pulls him down. Even if there's a bit of pain in his thighs when Bakugou flops haphazardly onto him, he hangs on to his waist just hard enough to keep him in place unless he really struggled to get free.
Licking up the mess left on his scarred chin, he looks up at Bakugou with a smirk even with the burst of pain in his forehead when it cracks against the younger's. It's just enough to make his hand release the other's head, shifting instead to adjust the boy on his lap so he doesn't fall off.
Through the haze of alcohol, the adrenaline of the challenge bursts through his veins. He hadn't intended for this to happen, but he wasn't going to push away such an interesting chance. ]
That's almost even worst. But only cause I'm half drunk right now.
What's it gonna be, huh? WAnna find out which Todoroki feels better to fuck?
[The prospect is different, and the taunt is clear. It makes him mildly hard already, thinking about tossing his weight around with someone besides the usual classmate. Someone more dangerous, not even regarding quirks, but maybe intent. The best way to get him going is to give him a goal.
Reaching up, he grabs the hand holding the vodka and uses it to bring the end against his lips, tip it for a hefty swig. He coughs again at the burn and wipes his mouth when he lets go.] I need more if I’m gonna do anything with your ugly ass. [Which is only a return taunt, but he’ll use it and take the alcohol for his inhibitions.
Instead of lowering, the hand fists tightly in the front of Dabi’s shirt, a warning.] Try any bullshit with me, and I’ll blow your head off without even blinking.
Now. Show me what kinda fucking horse am I betting on.
[ He didn't normally go after high schoolers. Especially not high schoolers part of the most prestigious hero course in the country. There was a thrill behind it; the kind that got him excited even from that sloppy, vodka-flavored kiss.
He lets the boy take the bottle from his hand and take a swig, taking the time himself to shed the jacket he'd been wearing. ]
You know that hurts enough to make me wanna stuff that dirty mouth of yours and wash it out.
[ He teased, using the hands fisting in his shirt as an excuse to lean in and run his tongue over the blond's bottom lip to catch a few stray drops of the alcohol. ]
You get to leave any time. You gotta trust me when I say I'm not that type of villain.
I'm assuming you mean what kinda horse you're gonna be riding so....
[ His hand dropped down to his jeans, undoing the belt and zipper before taking one of the younger's hands to push it into his boxer-briefs. Allowing him to feel how big Dabi was before he's even gotten hard but most of all, letting him feel the metal piercings adorning him. ]
[It's good he's maneuvered, or he might have had time enough to think about socking Dabi in the face with his fist again for the invasion of his personal space.
Christ. He was aware of already considering Dabi a freakshow, but now he realizes the freakshow extends further than that.] I'm not gonna be riding shit. [Not, he thinks, when his damp palm cups the man's cock and pulls it out of the waistband, thumb feeling over the hard, notched ribs of the barbells along the underside.] What the fuck... [Rather than let go, his hand squeezes gently, another warning.]
Am I supposed to be impressed you're fucked up enough to shove a needle four times through your dick?
[But it doesn't matter. The intimacy has already made him mostly hard in the leg of his sweats, and he takes his hand away like he's touched something scalding. Reaching over his shoulders, he grabs a fistful of the hoodie and yanks it up over his head, taking the shirt beneath with it, too. They get tossed to the floor, and heat rolls off him in a wave, free. He's conditioned himself to sweat for his quirk, so he's already glistening.]
We can see if your mouth is any better than his. Something besides just fuckin' yapping.
[ A second sock to the face that night would've been a serious kill to the buzz he has going. ]
Well, if you think you're topping me, I have some very sad news for you. I haven't bottomed since I was 17.
[ He genuinely laughed at the reaction to Bakugou seeing his cock and the piercings adorning him. ]
You asked to see. Or that's what my drunk ass is interpreting you to have meant. Now c'mon. I showed you mine now you show me yours.
[ Though looking down at the hard lump in Bakugou's sweats, it's not hard to imagine what the boy looks like. Dabi has to admit, though, the picture before him with the blond stripping off his hoodie and shirt is certainly a nice one. Even if Bakugou thinks of him as a freakshow and walking zombie of sorts, Dabi's shirt soon joins the younger's before he turns on the couch to rest the younger on his back. ]
I'd expect so since I have a lot more experience than him. And you better not spill that vodka on my couch. That's the good shit. I actually paid money for it.
And? There's no better time to fucking start again.
[Carefully, he takes one last swig of the vodka, doesn't cough this time but does grimace, and he sets it down on the floor by the couch out of the way.
Thankfully, Bakugou has no real humility when it comes to being naked. He's too arrogant for that, too fearless. Easily, without hesitation, he thumbs the hem of his sweatpants and shoves them down his thighs past his knees, over them and off his legs to the floor, getting rid of the socks afterward.
Dabi gets the worst teenage, shit-eating smirk. There's no monumental and astounding look to him; the length of his cock is average, decent, hard and lying stretched toward his navel, but he isn't small by any means. The girth of him will make for a delicious mouthful.
If Dabi thought he wasn't going to be the feistiest fuck, Dabi was wrong. Reaching up, he clamps a hand around the back of Dabi's neck and against Dabi's shoulder before the man even has the chance to look him over much. He swings his weight to the side, trying to flip them on the couch, though he's going to settle on Dabi's stomach and lap rather than shove himself up between Dabi's legs. This tussle over dominance seems to thrill him considerably.]
Open your mouth. If you bite me, I'll blow the rest of your face off so it matches the bottom.
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He sets the bottle down on the side of the couch, out of sight and out of reach, out of the way. For both of them maybe.
Then he turns and drops down onto the couch closest to where he had been standing. His eyes wander the living room briefly, and it's surprising that someone so rowdy and mouthy can have such an intelligent look about them when it's time to be smart. There's not a lot here to describe Dabi as a person.
It feels more like a squatting place.] How come none of you have ever killed him?
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[ Dabi slumped down into his couch, head tilting back as he heard Bakugou give the characteristic cough of a swig from the vodka before the couch bounced under the blond's weight. He doesn't move or say anything for a while, just closes his eyes to wait for the room to stop spinning.
His room pretty much is a squatting area. Just walls and a roof over his head, a place to sleep, to eat and to piss. When you're a villain, you don't really have the luxury of personal items unless you manage to keep a low profile so Dabi's lucky to just have a television and shitty blu-ray player from a local pawn shop. ]
Mmm... that's a bit more complicated. I dunno about Shouto and the others... but for me I knew I wouldn't ever be able to beat him. Once I was out of the house, he'd have kept his guard up against me coming back. Besides... death is too good for him in my opinion. I want him to suffer and have to face the consequences of the shit he's done. Let the world know about it all and make him live in that infamy for a bit before he gets to die.
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Taking a life, even a bad person's life, isn't as simple as saying, Die, would make it out to be.
This is accounting for the prior torture. How far of a stone's throw had he really been from being a villain, after doing similar things for so long to Izuku? The reasonings were different, but he still did them. It plagues him. The idea the League thought he would be a good candidate for villainy. What does that say about him? How he acted?]
You're real fucked up.
Making an example outta Endeavor as a villain isn't going to do shit against his reputation. If everyone loves him, they're gonna love him ten times more when they feel sorry for him because he's getting attacked.
Whatever he did, if half the shit you're saying is true, then you should all go to the police. You just told me his career meant more to him than his family, right? Then ruin his fucking career. Legally. Publically. Everything else is null and void. You think he can't take broken bones? Burnt skin? Tch.
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Which is where the vodka came in.
Dabi had had his doubts about whether Bakugou would accept their offer, but it wasn't as if he could voice those doubts. It was all part of Shigaraki's grand scheme and he hadn't even known about the existence of this sensei until he was watching the masked man floating over them after being forced to vomit what still tastes like sewage to him. Like a lot of things, Dabi just goes with the flow since the League is his best chance to meet his own personal goals. ]
Congrats on figuring that out. Only took, what? An hour or two?
As long as they just know the truth about him... know the type of man he is behind closed doors... that'll be enough for me. Even if I die because of it or get thrown away in some hole and the key's thrown away for good... it'll be enough.
[ He'll feel guilty about taking himself away from Shouto all over again... forcing the youngest Todoroki to grieve his loss hadn't been easy the first time, but it was beyond his control. ]
That's already part of my plan. But it's a little more complicated than just waltzing into a police station and showing them the bruises and scars he's given us. He doesn't look it, but the motherfucker is smart and he's got plenty of really fucking good lawyers. He's already gotten his way out of social services and a police investigation when my mom threw boiling water on Shouto's face.
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I'll kill you. [Which is about the only thing he can say as a rebuttal to being mocked.] You're... so fucking... stupid.
Throwing your damn life away! It's bad enough they ain't fucking seen you in however long! You think they're just gonna be happy over some stupid bullshit like that? "Our brother is dead, but thank fuck Dad's gone"?
[The swing is sudden, and there's no real wind-up other than him twisting at the waist. He socks Dabi in the cheek and jaw, completely lacking a lot of the oomph he usually puts into most things involving his fists.]
You dumb bastard! They're your family, and they'd give more of a shit that you're even alive over whether or not Endeavor is being punished for being a piece of shit!
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You don't think it'd be something like that? As if they'd want me back after all this time. Once Shouto figures out who I am and what I've been doing the past ten years... he's a hero. And he still lives under our old man's thumb as much as he probably tells himself he doesn't give a fuck about that fucker.
[ The punch to his jaw was the last thing he expected, even considering his guest was the most violent hero-in-training at U.A. Eyes shoot open to glare at the boy, his own reflexes just barely quick enough to grab his wrist and yank him closer even as he's still being yelled at. ]
My life doesn't fucking matter! Don't you get that, yet? I used to tell myself all the time that they cared. That one day they'd find me somehow and tell me it's okay to come back or that they've come to join me. But no. They fucking chose him. They fucking chose to let me fend for myself.
I'm already fucking dead to them. Don't you fucking get it?!
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Not taking any chances, he slides his hand off the couch and bunches it instead in the collar of Dabi’s shirt.
Unfortunately, the more Dabi talks, the more Bakugou’s brows come together. Theoretically, he gets it. But he hasn’t lived it. He doesn’t understand. How could he really?]
It’s fucking Endeavor! Number Two hero! Now Number One! You’re a dumbass if you think they’re all gonna react the same way you did! Just because they tucked tail doesn’t mean they fucking hate you, idiot! It doesn’t mean you’re dead to them! Stop being fucking dramatic!
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Just so he's even with the grab to his collar, Dabi's own free hand fists in the front of the boy's shirt. Making sure that even if he thought he could get away before, there was no escaping now.
The more the blond shouted, the more Dabi's face grimmaced with both anger and pain. Soon, the hand gripping the younger's arm is shaking as he tries to keep his control and the vodka hits him in a way he hadn't intended. ]
My sister wants me to apologize to him. Me. Apologize. To him. After she watched me burn myself alive just to fucking please him. If they don't consider me dead, I fucking want them to. It's not being fucking dramatic when you don't know the fucking things he's done, kid.
There's only one person that understands my hatred for that man and it's Shouto. And if you can't then... just go the fuck home.
[ With that he finally let go, near shoving the boy away as he stood from the couch. With hobbling steps, he made for the refrigerator where he kept his cigarettes and slammed open the sliding door that led to a small balcony. ]
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When Dabi releases him and shoves him back, he rolls toward the other end of the couch and stares. He scraped by in this one, not that he'd go down without a fight. Luckily, Dabi doesn't seem to want to bother with him.
Frowning sourly, he watches Dabi leave for the kitchen, come away and to the balcony. For a moment, he simply sits up on the couch and tries to keep his heart from racing so wildly, full of adrenaline. His hand straightens out the hoodie, and he stands.
Considers doing what Dabi told him to do: leave. But... things feel unfinished. Unsaid. What business is it of his, though? Why does he give a shit?
At first, he walks to the door, stops halfway there, turns around and goes back. His footsteps are loud enough to be heard at the sliding door, and they stop on the inside.]
When you gonna get the balls to see him? Halfy.
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It doesn't help at first, but with each puff the nicotine calms his nerves and the stiffness in his shoulders loosen up from their bow taut posture. Dabi expects Bakugou to storm out of his apartment with a bit more shouting and cursing. Instead just when he thinks he's about to hear the front door open and slam shut, he picks up the sound of socked feet approaching as he leans against the balony's railing. ]
See him? And say what? "Hey, Shouto. Long time no see. Sorry about kidnapping your buddy over the summer."
He doesn't need to ever see me. As far as he's concerned I'm in South Korea eeking out a living on some fishing trawler.
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[Stupid bastard.
Bakugou's not good at this side of hero work: talking to people, comforting people. Hell, he can't even admit and compartmentalize his own goddamn emotions without throwing some kind of punches, yelling. Everything comes out in his fists, his quirk, how he feels. Fuck.]
You know, he got all the way to the fucking festival without using your shitty old man's quirk, right? He was garbage, thinking he could get away with just ice. Then that goddamn shrimpy nerd had to be the one to put his stupid head on straight.
[Both fists crackle gently when he squeezes them by his sides. Something vividly etched into his memory, the fact Todoroki wouldn't fight him with everything, and his win was a sham. That's not the point, though.]
Maybe it isn't about you talkin' to him. Maybe it's about him talkin' to you. Whatever Endeavor did to him, he's not gonna let it keep him from becoming the hero he wants to become. I can fucking respect that, at least.
But here you are, letting him make you into a monster even now. You ain't never escaped it. Running with the League means you're as much Endeavor's little throwaway plaything as before.
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[ It probably was stupid of him. And stubborn. And petty. But Dabi was just that convinced that revealing himself to Shouto would do much more harm than good. He was regretting letting it slip even to Bakugou because of the mess it's made of things. ]
I saw that. They televised it all, remember? .... Honestly I was proud of him using only mom's Quirk that far into the tournament. It proved that even as strong as he is with both running at once, he was still powerful enough to make it to the semi-finals on half his power alone.
[ Pausing, he looked over at the boy with fingers holding the cigarette to his lips. ]
If only he hadn't fucked up and let his concentration waver, right?
[ Dabi himself still wasn't entirely sure of who would have won had Shouto used both his fire and ice the way he had against Midoriya. ]
Look... it's not that easy to just let go of the things that happened and go reconnect with whatever parts of my family might actually want me around. Let me put it in perspective for you....
Have you been able to forget about when we took you? How many nights have you woken up thinking about when I dragged you through the portal?
If you were ready to blast my head off when I first yanked your hood down at the store, just stretch that feeling out over ten years. Those- what? Two days you were with us? Stretch it out to the fifteen years I lived as a Todoroki.
Sure we're standing here now talking... but can you tell me it'd be the same story with Shouto if he found out about me?
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Really, it's not his business, just a waste of time, or so he thinks.]
Shut the hell up... [The response alone is evidence enough he's still rattled and pissed about the kidnapping. More so because he had dealt with such a tough time afterward regarding All Might's retirement. Blaming himself. Feeling weak, useless. Always taken. Always causing trouble.] Listen, you fuck.
I don't exactly give a shit about you or Half 'n Half, or your bastard old man outside of being a capable hero. Do what you want. I'm just saying it's fucking stupid to assume you won't get nothin' out of talking to him.
You don't know how it'll go until you actually do it.
Otherwise, whatever. But if you keep being a damn villain, don't think we won't smear the ground with what's left of you. We're gonna be fucking heroes, and there's no room for you around here.
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The response from the blond draws a small scoff from Dabi as he sits on the couch once more and puts a foot up on the coffee table. ]
I'm just assuming that it'd do him more harm than good for me to out myself, okay? What benefits are there gonna be for him to know that I'm a villain? You can probably already guess there's no real way to change my mind about shit. You'll just be hurting him.
[ Finally, Dabi gives a sigh and runs a hand down his face, looking all the more tired with the scars under his eyes resembling bags. ]
Look... I can't stop you in the end. If you wanna tell him, do it. If you think something will actually come of it, whatever. I'd even commend you for trying.
But unless there's a way I can know it won't just fuck him up even more... I'm keeping my mouth shut.
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Iida would absolutely have a cow about the cigarette; it's low on Bakugou's radar.]
I'm not some fucking messenger boy. I don't even wanna see Halfy's face much less run to tell him some bullshit about one of the League being his brother. He can find out that shit on his own if he hasn't already.
[Slowly, he turns away from the door and around.] You all are a goddamn disaster. [Coming from one disaster to another, on separate levels.] Half's already fucked up. If you were watching, you'd have seen it. The look in his eyes.
He dips out almost every weekend; funny, considering we aren't supposed to be leaving exactly. Right? Heard it's 'cause he visits his mom.
So even if he's fucked up, even if he's been through some of the worst shit imaginable, he's still trying to be a hero. That means he's going to be some dumbass softy if he found out about you. He'd waste his time trying to help you.
I'm not like him, though. I'm not gonna feel sorry for you just because you've got a sob story.
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We've come to an accord on that, then. Unless something manages to change my mind, I'm fine with keeping up the front I've already got with him.
[ His hand flounders a bit against the couch, seeking out the vodka for another long drink. ]
And yet you think the guy that caused all us to become fucking disasters is a good hero. Doesn't surprise me he wants to visit our mom,though....
[ Dabi gives a long sigh as Bakugou continues to rant at him about Shouto, a hand running down his face as he sinks into the couch further. ]
Mom isn't a fucked up villain, though. I mean... sure she burned his face when she snapped in the head. But she isn't a murderer. She didn't kidnap one of his classmates.
Good, though. Cause I don't want any fucking pity. I just need some booze and a good, hard fuck now and then when I'm not working and actively playing the big bad monster part. So if you can't give me either of those, I don't want anything, kid.
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Reaching down, he picks it up by the neck, doesn't offer it out yet.] Villains must reach an all time damn low if they're wanting pity fucks from kids. Nah, you gotta prove you're worth what I give. I don't do handouts. [His arm extends. He offers the bottle of vodka, but he keeps a hold of the neck even if Dabi takes it, refusing to let it go so easily.]
If you wanna be sloppy seconds to your brother again. I've fucked him, once. Halfy. Everyone thinks he's some goody-two-shoes, but he loves playing with danger. He earned it, though, my wrath. We had a contest, and he forfeited like a coward because he hated the taste of vodka.
What d'you got?
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Who said anything about a pity fuck? If I don't want regular pity, I sure a fuck don't want pity fucking.
[ When his hand closes over the bottle and it's obvious Bakugou isn't letting go, he yanks hard to drag the boy down onto his lap. ]
I wouldn't call it sloppy seconds if you only fucked him as part of a bet. And that's where we differ in the end... vodka's my vice.
[ The elder took a swig of the alcohol still held between them, but instead of swallowing the mouthful, he wrapped a hand around the back of the blond's neck and yanked him in to press their lips together roughly. Tongue sliding into Bakugou's mouth, he sloppily fed him the shot of vodka, despite a good bit of it dripping down both of their chins before he managed to get some into the other's lips. ]
How's that for starters?
[ To emphasize his point, his teeth caught the other's bottom lip and gave a tug. ]
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[Shockingly, Bakugou actually looks briefly surprised when Dabi exerts force on the bottle and yanks it, pulling him down with it. He stumbles, stretches an arm out, but can't reach the back of the couch, so he clamps it on Dabi's shoulder instead before sprawling haphazardly over the man's thighs.]
Fuck off, basta--
[The lips aren't nearly as startling as the stinging alcohol being dumped in his mouth. He squeezes the shoulder in his hand, reaching up with the other to shove his palm against Dabi's collar, though not to peel them apart so much as get some reprieve from the vodka.
It burns all the way down, and he sputters, coughs, and the growl that comes out of him is gurgled and hoarse when Dabi bites into his bottom lip. Shoving again, he cracks their foreheads together, not roughly, but not gently either, enough to get Dabi to back out of his space hopefully.
It's not fear; there's a thrill there. A challenging excitement. Maybe not for everyone in a situation like this, but especially for him.] Shithead.
I fucked him because I was drunk and wanted to, not because of a bet.
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Licking up the mess left on his scarred chin, he looks up at Bakugou with a smirk even with the burst of pain in his forehead when it cracks against the younger's. It's just enough to make his hand release the other's head, shifting instead to adjust the boy on his lap so he doesn't fall off.
Through the haze of alcohol, the adrenaline of the challenge bursts through his veins. He hadn't intended for this to happen, but he wasn't going to push away such an interesting chance. ]
That's almost even worst. But only cause I'm half drunk right now.
What's it gonna be, huh? WAnna find out which Todoroki feels better to fuck?
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Reaching up, he grabs the hand holding the vodka and uses it to bring the end against his lips, tip it for a hefty swig. He coughs again at the burn and wipes his mouth when he lets go.] I need more if I’m gonna do anything with your ugly ass. [Which is only a return taunt, but he’ll use it and take the alcohol for his inhibitions.
Instead of lowering, the hand fists tightly in the front of Dabi’s shirt, a warning.] Try any bullshit with me, and I’ll blow your head off without even blinking.
Now. Show me what kinda fucking horse am I betting on.
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He lets the boy take the bottle from his hand and take a swig, taking the time himself to shed the jacket he'd been wearing. ]
You know that hurts enough to make me wanna stuff that dirty mouth of yours and wash it out.
[ He teased, using the hands fisting in his shirt as an excuse to lean in and run his tongue over the blond's bottom lip to catch a few stray drops of the alcohol. ]
You get to leave any time. You gotta trust me when I say I'm not that type of villain.
I'm assuming you mean what kinda horse you're gonna be riding so....
[ His hand dropped down to his jeans, undoing the belt and zipper before taking one of the younger's hands to push it into his boxer-briefs. Allowing him to feel how big Dabi was before he's even gotten hard but most of all, letting him feel the metal piercings adorning him. ]
Feel for yourself.
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Christ. He was aware of already considering Dabi a freakshow, but now he realizes the freakshow extends further than that.] I'm not gonna be riding shit. [Not, he thinks, when his damp palm cups the man's cock and pulls it out of the waistband, thumb feeling over the hard, notched ribs of the barbells along the underside.] What the fuck... [Rather than let go, his hand squeezes gently, another warning.]
Am I supposed to be impressed you're fucked up enough to shove a needle four times through your dick?
[But it doesn't matter. The intimacy has already made him mostly hard in the leg of his sweats, and he takes his hand away like he's touched something scalding. Reaching over his shoulders, he grabs a fistful of the hoodie and yanks it up over his head, taking the shirt beneath with it, too. They get tossed to the floor, and heat rolls off him in a wave, free. He's conditioned himself to sweat for his quirk, so he's already glistening.]
We can see if your mouth is any better than his. Something besides just fuckin' yapping.
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Well, if you think you're topping me, I have some very sad news for you. I haven't bottomed since I was 17.
[ He genuinely laughed at the reaction to Bakugou seeing his cock and the piercings adorning him. ]
You asked to see. Or that's what my drunk ass is interpreting you to have meant. Now c'mon. I showed you mine now you show me yours.
[ Though looking down at the hard lump in Bakugou's sweats, it's not hard to imagine what the boy looks like. Dabi has to admit, though, the picture before him with the blond stripping off his hoodie and shirt is certainly a nice one. Even if Bakugou thinks of him as a freakshow and walking zombie of sorts, Dabi's shirt soon joins the younger's before he turns on the couch to rest the younger on his back. ]
I'd expect so since I have a lot more experience than him. And you better not spill that vodka on my couch. That's the good shit. I actually paid money for it.
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[Carefully, he takes one last swig of the vodka, doesn't cough this time but does grimace, and he sets it down on the floor by the couch out of the way.
Thankfully, Bakugou has no real humility when it comes to being naked. He's too arrogant for that, too fearless. Easily, without hesitation, he thumbs the hem of his sweatpants and shoves them down his thighs past his knees, over them and off his legs to the floor, getting rid of the socks afterward.
Dabi gets the worst teenage, shit-eating smirk. There's no monumental and astounding look to him; the length of his cock is average, decent, hard and lying stretched toward his navel, but he isn't small by any means. The girth of him will make for a delicious mouthful.
If Dabi thought he wasn't going to be the feistiest fuck, Dabi was wrong. Reaching up, he clamps a hand around the back of Dabi's neck and against Dabi's shoulder before the man even has the chance to look him over much. He swings his weight to the side, trying to flip them on the couch, though he's going to settle on Dabi's stomach and lap rather than shove himself up between Dabi's legs. This tussle over dominance seems to thrill him considerably.]
Open your mouth. If you bite me, I'll blow the rest of your face off so it matches the bottom.
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