An Evening Spent @nogenderonlylove
The Sweater Incident

Dabi isn't soft.


Nor had he gotten soft in the months of knowing Inko-san.


But if he repeatedly wore the very sweater she painstakingly knitted for him and gave to him a few weeks after their first meeting well that's his business and his alone.


Inko-san worked hard on it, the least he could do was wear it after all she'd done for him.


Weeks he would have spent in some drafty warehouse or ill begotten bar were spent warm and safe(what an odd feeling) with his belly full of home cooked meals and a bed that for once didn't leave him with back pains to add on to all his other pains.


Plus she had went through all that trouble to find a yarn that wouldn't aggravate his injuries and even had it fireproofed.


Which was why a lowlife villain was currently writhing on the floor, yelling out curses and obscenities as he clutched the burned stump of what was once the place where his arm had been, the rest of it turned to char on the newly waxed floor.


"Sorry about the mess Kurogiri, but I'm sure this guy wouldn't mind cleaning it up. Right?" He kicked the guy in his side, face blank as blue eyes burned with a light of rage that had others in the bar backing away slowly and carefully.


They knew a predator when they saw one.


"Besides, it is his arm. Don't see why he can't clean it up." A manic grin split his face, staples pulling at the skin enough to be seen by anyone looking at him.


Which was everyone at the moment.


"What the fuck!" The guy bit out, panting as he clutched at his arm.


"I told you not to touch. The. Sweater." Dabi said, punctuating each word with a kick, forcing the guy on his back, boot to his throat.


"Didn't I say that?" Dabi drawled, tilting his head to the side like a curious cat.


"He did say that." Tomura rasped, never once looking up from his handheld game.


Toga nodded eagerly, watching from the bar counter top, having the decency to put down a couple napkins to prevent any scuffing from her shoes as she watched.


They all respected Kurogiri enough to give him that, said man watching from next to Toga as he cleaned the glasses.


"And what did you do? You. Touched. My. Sweater."


The guy was turning purple, the pressure from Dabi's boot on his throat causing such a reaction as he put emphasis on each word with more pressure from his boot.


He let up, the guy gasping for breath as he scrambled away, the bar now deserted save for the main League members. Kurogiri threw the man a towel, a pointed stare his way daring the man to leave without cleaning up his mess.


Once he deemed it satisfactory Kurogiri warped the guy out to who knows where, the bar now falling silent, the other patrons having scrambled out of the bar minutes earlier.


There were some smart people in the world it seemed.


Dabi sat back in his booth, the leather cushion groaning momentarily under his weight, one leg out in the middle of the floor and the other tucked a bit towards him, taking his phone out and scrolling through whatever feed he had on it.


The rest of the League just looked at him, Kurogiri the first to speak.




Dabi spared him a glance, keeping his gaze locked onto the man, his own unique show of respect as he hummed inquisitively.


It wasn't a secret that Kurogiri was more or less a respected favorite of his compared to the rest of the League.


Second to Magne of course.


"Can I inquire as to what that was all about?" He continued, Toga tipping over to her right side to lean against his shoulder, looking decidedly awkward in that position and yet comfortable at the same time as Kurogiri automatically adjusted himself to better accompany her.


The leech was weird like that, Dabi noted. But he kept his attention on Kurogiri as he answered.


"He touched my sweater."


Dabi went back to his phone.


The League continued to look at Dabi.


No one said a word.



She looked up when she heard him, smile bright and warm. At this point there wasn't a need to squint, he liked to think he'd built up some type of immunity to seeing such brightness whenever she smiled.


"Your other sweater's in the dryer, should be done by now." She spoke kindly, puttering about the room as she set everything perfectly.


Dabi sat down heavily, eyes half lidded and tired, though he'd have to go through a lot more than just a bit of fatigue to keep from enjoying Inko-san's cooking.


"You alright sweetheart? You look tired." Inko noticed, a small frown twisting at her lips as she eyed him with concern.


Dabi idly scratched at the bandages that covered his chin and just under his eyes, using his other hand to wave off her concern. "M' just tired, promise." He assured her, though made no complaint when she pressed a hand to his forehead, her frown deepening.


"You seem warmer than normal." She noted, puttering back to the kitchen before he could say anything.


While she was off doing whatever Dabi mindlessly shoveled rice and vegetables into his face, a low hum of apprecitation leaving him at the delicious taste.


He'd kill a man for Inko-san's cooking.


He'd kill a man for her anyway, she deserved it.


So engrossed in the food he didn't notice when she appeared next to him. Thankfully she had the foresight to tap him, only startling him enough that he jumped in his seat instead of his hands flaring up in blue flame like the first time.


He eyed what she had in her hands, the fluffy purple towel she held folded long ways and looking like something had been stuffed into it.


With his unspoken permission Inko set in on his shoulders around his neck, the oddly cold towel soothing the flaring heat enough for him to be comfortable.


"Thank you Inko-san." He said softly, the thanks foreign on his tongue.


It was strange and sad how unfamiliar being cared for was.



The time after eating was spent finishing up dinner and Dabi helping her wash the dishes much to the smaller woman's chagrin. Though she had never been able to successfully get him to let her do any menial chore as such whenever he was over. He always insisted it was the least he could do for her after all she had done for him.


And that...that didn't sit well with her.


All she had done was give him hot meals and a warm place to stay.


She knew what a hurting child looked like. She had raised one all his life. And while she regrets not doing more...not being able to do more for Izuku when he was younger, she was certainly trying her best now.


And if she was projecting some of those "what ifs" she constantly thought about onto this young man then no one else had to know.


What if she'd paid more attention?


What if she hadn't just said sorry in the wake of his dreams crumbling around him?


What if she had actually looked and seen what was right in front of her and realized he was hurting?


A warm hand tentatively touched her own, startling her from her thoughts.


"Inko-san?" Dabi said, bright blue eyes showing a light of concern, his hand hovering, posture stiff and awkward like he didn't know what to do.


She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, though judging by his eyes that held a touch of skepticism she didn't do a good job of it. Though he didn't press any further, helping her put away the last of the dry dishes before she shooed him to the living room.


The rest of the evening was spent watching a few of Inko's shows, changing the channel to a cooking show once they were through. And if she smiled to herself seeing Dabi's eyes light up just a bit as the chefs baked a few desserts and added their own flair to it well, no one else had to know.


But she made sure to write down the name of the recipes and to look into buying the ingredients at a later date for the both of them to enjoy.


It didn't take long for Dabi to pass out, she noticed. The young man was clearly exhausted, eyes looking more tired than usual despite the bandages covering just under them. And he moved slower than his normal lazy grace he had about him.


And like the mother hen she was she was quick to grab a throw blanket, every one she had having been already been fireproofed for a possible quirk that never came in years ago.


So habitual her movements she hadn't realized what she'd done as she finished tucking him in, making her way to her own room to sleep since she had an early shift in the morning.


But Dabi was hyper aware of it, the feeling of gentle fingers carding through his hair and soft lips pressed to his head in a kiss leaving him choking back the light sobs that threatened to claw up from his throat. Faint memories of those same actions from when he was younger surfacing all at once.


He was certain if he could cry tears would have long drenched his face.

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