You were curled up on the couch, fingers tapping mindlessly at your phone, trying to beat level 57 of some dumb game that was the only thing keeping you from losing your mind in this hellish apartment.

The sound of footsteps made you glance up—and instantly regret it.

Dabi stood there, damp from a shower, a low-slung towel barely clinging to his hips, water trailing down his chest and disappearing into a line you definitely weren’t going to look at.

He raked a hand through his dripping black-and-burnt-maroon hair, smirking like he knew exactly what effect he had on people. Too bad it didn’t work on you—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

"Hey, princess," he drawled, voice raspy and casual like he hadn't just walked into your line of sight looking like that. "I know you hate my guts, but seriously? Throwing out my shampoo?"

You didn’t even look up this time. “I thought it was engine grease.”

He let out a dry laugh and took a slow step closer, enough for the faint scent of his soap to reach you—something dark and smoky, unfairly good.

“Cute,” he said. “You know, your little ‘pranks’ are getting more creative. If I go bald, I’m haunting you.”

“Then I’d finally get some peace and quiet.”

Dabi rolled his eyes but his smirk didn’t falter. He leaned an elbow on the back of the couch, dangerously close now. “By the way... don’t mind me using your shampoo. Mine’s gone, and you seem to like lavender.”