Flea

Chapter Forty Six

Dabi gradually stirred in a soft, drunken haze. The second nice thing about alcohol was that it made the worst fucking conditions in the world feel at the time like a five-star experience. When he collapsed on the couch last night, it had stunk of decay and was so lumpy he wouldn't be surprised if someone stashed a body in there instead of stuffing. Now, it really didn't seem that bad.

He stretched slightly and tightened his grip around a cushion in front, curling himself around it drowsily. The villain buried his face into silky material. Dabi almost imagined that it smelled of green tea, and desperately tried to hold onto the essence of fleeting dreams from which he'd been interrupted, keeping his eyes firmly closed and breathing deeply.

It was a testament to his level of intoxication that the cushion part his nose was digging into had thick hair as soft as clouds, and he didn't register there was anything strange about that for a few solid moments.

***       

As soon as Maeve woke up, she knew morning hadn't arrived yet. In fact, it almost felt like she hadn't been asleep for any time at all. There was still warmth and the sound of steady breathing behind her, which was strange because Strawberry never usually stuck around after she'd gone under.  

That was when the mixed scent of stale alcohol and bonfires washed over Maeve, accompanied by someone curling around her ball of a body from behind. Someone laughably bigger than a kitten. An arm reached over to hook around her legs, which were tucked all the way up to Maeve's chin and pulled her back gently but firmly into themselves. She froze and let out an almost imperceptible whimper when soft breath fell on the side of her neck and 'someone' buried their face into her curls.

***

Dabi's eyes flicked open at the same moment he instinctively sprang away from whatever (whoever?) had broken into his apartment. He didn't think he'd ever moved more quickly in his life, a fireball already alight in one palm.

When he saw Maeve open her mouth to scream in a bed which was most definitively not his, the flames disappeared with a pop and Dabi somehow managed to backpedal even faster. However, there was only so much bed space available for getting away from her, and he quickly went over the edge in a flurry of limbs. Bare limbs. The villain had stripped down to nothing but boxers before he went to sleep.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck fuck FUCK 

That, of course, was when his hangover hit.

***

Maeve screamed. Of course she fucking screamed, she was still human. Even if the girl knew no one would hear her except the monster who'd tumbled onto the carpeted floor of her new bedroom. Screaming quickly transitioned into hoarse yelling.

"WHAT THE FUCK? ARE YOU SHITTING ME? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH STRAWBERRY, YOU CREEPY SCHNITZEL SLEAZEBALL?"

Dabi didn't respond, which was unexpected. He just groaned and clutched his head, hunkering on the floor to lean against the side of the bed. Maeve had never seen him without his embarrassingly wannabe goth clothing before, which was unusual considering her quirk but not something she'd ever regretted. At all. Unfortunately, instincts hardwired into Maeve through years of experience forced her to do an automatic examination while still yelling. 

"YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T BE BACK FOR ANOTHER TWO WEEKS!! IS IT A HABIT OF YOURS TO SNEAK INTO GIRL'S HOUSES AND SPOON THEM WHEN THEY'RE ASLEEP ALMOST NAKED BECAUSE IT'S A HABIT OF MINE TO SMASH GUYS LIKE THAT INTO A PERVERTED PULP-"

She couldn't help but note the exact position of his burn scars, and that some seemed far more recent than others. Everything was exactly symmetrical, except for a few dotted across his figure that looked even older than hers. He hadn't taken care of any of them well. At all. They were in terrible condition. It was clear multiple contracture scars hadn't been released in surgery and so reduced his range of movement, while hypertrophic ones looked painfully irritated.