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.
He was surprisingly well-muscled in spite of that. Yet another check against her if it came to a fight. Why had she not listened to people, taken precautions? This didn't make any sense, however. Originally, Maeve thought he'd gotten plastered and had decided to visit her in the spur of the moment himself for some 'fun.' Yet given as soon as Dabi realised it was Maeve he sprang backwards with impressively colourful swearing, that was looking less likely.
So why had he appeared in her bed, clearly off his face and in nothing but boxers?
"YOU MAKE ME SICK, I WAS RAPED THREE DAYS AGO AND NOW THIS? EVEN FOR THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS THAT'S-"
Dabi finally made a move.
It involved bringing an index finger to his stapled lips and shushing her. Maeve swelled like an extraordinarily skinny pufferfish, inhaling for another torrent, so he just struggled to his feet, pulling on the bed to get himself upright, and staggered out of the room muttering something about 'garroting the bitch with her own shitty perm.'
Maeve waited for a few moments, heart-pounding, and pressed the panic button for good measure. She then hurried to a chest of drawers on the other side of the room and opened the bottom one with shaking hands. Sifting through a few other possessions, the girl found what she was looking for. It felt so wrong in her hands Maeve almost dropped the thing, but tightened her grip just in time. She checked the cartridge.
"You should take this, just in case. D-don't hurt any of them too badly, but... Please help me. I can heal them afterwards but I just need to get away; she's already so drunk and it's a Friday night."
The difference between then and now was that the police had supplied her with bullets. She wasn't a little girl anymore.
***
He was going to kill Psyche. Seriously, not just an expression. As soon as he woke up Dabi was going to grab a portal into her apartment, torture her until the witch properly broke the seal, and then incinerate the brothel owner without batting an eyelid.
The tricky part was what to do until then. Stuck in an unfamiliar place, with a hysterical (and probably hormonal, who knew what was going on in there) teenage girl who'd just been screaming something about strawberries, less clothing than was ideal, and the hangover to end all hangovers. His entire world was spinning and any noise, no matter how tiny, reverberated around in his skull until he thought he might die. If Dabi did kark it at that moment, death would be welcomed with open arms.
Wherever they were, it was the complete opposite of Maeve's bedroom. The place felt like one of those cliched 'depressed yet wealthy' bachelor pads you saw in movies, with an open floor plan and floor to ceiling glass windows at modern angles. The only vaguely personal touch he could spot was a pile of cardboard boxes Dabi tripped over on the way to a door he hoped opened into the can. Not that it made a difference, because the stupid 'aesthetically minimalist' plank wouldn't budge even when he slammed it with his bare shoulder. Said impact triggered a pressure behind his skull so unbearable the scarred man nearly vomited on the carpet.
Fuck it.
Dabi stumbled over to a pristine kitchen unit and flicked on the light, then the tap. It worked. Interesting; the scarred man wasn't expecting running water. He shoved a plug into the sink, flicking on a fancy kettle for good measure, before leaning against the bench and forcing the last dregs of his wits together.
That was when Maeve emerged from her bedroom. His back was to the entrance, so Dabi needed to twist his head to see her. She'd clearly been scrambling to get herself in order as well; her hair was pulled back, glasses were on and the girl had pulled an oversized sweater over her pyjamas. This was the first time he was seeing her in the trademark gloves. Dabi really wasn't sure how he felt about the glasses because it made it harder to see her eyes. The sweater was obviously Aizawa's. Dabi had never seen her in anything except men's hand me downs that were five sizes too big. Did she even own women's clothing?
Oh, and she was pointing a handgun at him.
"I'll ask again. Why are you here?" Maeve asked, keeping her back to the wall. A tremble in her voice and her terrified body language gave her away, however. The doctor's eyes had gone into their wide, owlish size Dabi recognised. It meant she was frightened and even worse than that, Maeve felt she didn't have control. Something he'd learned about Maeve was that she needed to be in control. At all times. If she wasn't, it made her panic. Once he knew someone's weaknesses, Dabi had quite the talent for tearing them apart piece by psychological piece.
"Well, if it isn't the little pacifist," he croaked, giving her a pointed look and chuckling. Maeve didn't find it as funny as he did, pulling back the safety with an unnatural click.
"Answer my question."
"I will, once you've given up on the ridiculous pretence that you'd ever shoot someone, and I've dealt with this."
Dabi indicated his rumpled head leisurely, body language completely at ease. He still felt like a swarm of hornets had formed a nest inside his brain, but outwardly, the scarred man looked perfectly relaxed.
"Do you have ibuprofen?" The scarred man continued, phrasing it like a perfectly appropriate question.
"What? Not- Get out of my kitchen, what are you even doing in there?"
"Oh, the usual. Plotting murder. Getting over a god damn awful hangover, which is something I assume you can't relate to, given you're the perfect little angel," He looked her up and down, an eyebrow quirked in apparent amusement at her lack of life experience.
***
Maeve would've rolled her eyes if the situation wasn't so horrifying, and her heart wasn't beating so hard it felt like it would burst out of her throat.
"I'm discovering a pattern with you people. It starts with underestimating me and ends with your plans falling to pieces. I do know how to use this," She replied, gun drifting between his head and bare back. Dabi maintained eye contact calmly, although he looked even more terrible than usual. His spiky hair was all sticking up in one direction. The usual piercing clarity in his turquoise eyes was hazy and bloodshot with alcohol. Because of the burns replacing dark shadows underneath them, it was more difficult to tell how exhausted the villain was at any time, but Maeve wouldn't be surprised if this was the first proper 'sleep' he was getting since before the kidnapping.
"Sweetheart, I agree that you're many things, but a cold-blooded killer isn't one of them," he replied, listening to the kettle bubbling. How was he confident enough to randomly appear in her cottage, barely dressed, and just wander around like he owned the place? Maeve felt a leaden weight of disgust in her sternum. She was sick of men. All they did was invade her space and tell her what she could or couldn't do. Didn't matter if they were heroes, or hero public safety commission, or police, or villains. Fuck the lot of them.
"Killing you in here isn't really killing, though, is it? More like dying in a bad dream," Maeve theorised, gun hand becoming steadier as she collected herself. Dabi shrugged, playing with a wisp of aquamarine flame.
"Dunno. I'd say two possibilities. Either I just never wake up, or as you said, it'd be like getting out of a nightmare. Though, getting shot would piss me off. And you'd stay asleep, so I could be back before the end of the night to show you what I'm like when I'm really mad. Cos I've never come close with you before, sweetheart, that was just doing a job," he grinned at her, staples stretching unpleasantly around his mouth. Dabi was being serious. Fire flickered in the man's hair as if to remind the girl he knew exactly what terrified her. Maeve felt panic clawing at the inside of her chest. So much for being collected.
"What do you want?" She asked, arms lowering as the weight of the gun dragged them down.
"At the moment, some of your Old Man's clothes. You still owe me a sweatshirt and pants anyway."
***
Dabi had never seen Maeve's eyes quite as dark with hatred as in that moment. Luckily, his head was pounding too much to give a shit.
Her mouth twisted unpleasantly, but the girl collected herself with several deep breaths and ran a still unsteady hand through metallic hair. There were new snow-white highlights Dabi couldn't remember her having during the attack.
"I'll see what I've got," Maeve replied coldly and disappeared back into her bedroom. That left Dabi free to grab a couple packets of instant coffee and make himself a cup, downing the still scalding fluid in two gulps. With an impressive amount of willpower, he didn't bring it back up again. The sink was nearing full, so he flicked off the tap and waited.
What Dabi didn't understand was why Psyche would do something like this. It made no sense. Nobody benefitted from maintaining the connection; certainly not Maeve, or him, and because of that he'd end Psyche's pathetic cigarette strewn existence. Why would the brothel owner risk her own life on something she'd given no indication of caring about?
Dabi knew it'd been a terrible fucking idea, but Shigaraki had to throw his weight around to put Maeve in her place, didn't he?
A small seed of dread sprouted in the depths of his mind.
What if you can't find her? What if this isn't some temporary thing and you're stuck in here every time you fall asleep for the rest of your life? Or just forever?
That would be pretty apt karma, wouldn't it?
Maeve padded back, clutching a wad of fabric, and threw it at him. She still had the gun, which Dabi found faintly amusing. He caught them, raising an eyebrow at the colour of the fabric, and before she had a chance to say anything, dunked his entire head into the sink.
It was fucking freezing. The cold water jolted Dabi's brain back into gear, coursing through his body like an electric shock. He held himself there for a few heartbeats and then broke out with a gasp, shaking his shaggy head like a dog. Water sprayed everywhere. The man then dried himself off with a few puffs of fire.
A glance at Maeve revealed her mouth was hanging open slightly in surprise. As soon as she saw him smirk, however, the girl's face hardened again and she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I wouldn't think Eraser Head was the hot pink sweatpants kind of guy," Dabi commented, pulling them on over his now slightly damp boxers. They were too short for him, but they'd do. Maeve just shrugged, averting her gaze as if she hadn't been giving him clinical eye overs the entire time. Dabi couldn't help but laugh at her when he noticed the girl's cheeks were more flushed than normal.
"Poor Maeve, a bit shy, are we? Never seen a scarecrow without clothes before?" He teased, only then realising there was still a decent amount of alcohol in his system. Dabi never would've said that sober. Fuck. Maeve's face lost all colour and instead of embarrassed, she looked fragile, like if he wasn't careful, the next thing he said might make her cry.
She was raped three days ago, you complete shit of a human being. Then you turn up in her bed, a girl who's never been with anyone except an insemination stick, and expect her to not be terrified out of her mind thinking you're here to assault her?
Dabi couldn't bring himself to apologise, however, just shrugging a grey sweatshirt over his head, and picking up the second cup of instant coffee he'd made. The villain exited her kitchen, prowled up to Maeve, and extended out his other hand, eyebrows raised. She hesitated, gloved hands loose around the pistol, before handing it over to him in defeat. Dabi silently handed her the steaming cup and wandered up some steps to her apparent office, indicating with his head she should follow him. He expertly opening the cartridge as he went. Its contents emptied on the floor with hollow-sounding clatters.