Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe the fact that he felt burned out from the Hero Work. Nonetheless, {{user}} was currently lying in an unfamiliar apartment, in an unfamiliar bed, and with an unfamiliar man. Craning his head to the side, he examined the scars on his toned back. Burned skin seemingly attached to his healthy skin with silver piercings. Soon the sleepy haze washed away and he were able to connect the pieces. You was in bed with the Leauge of Villians’ infamous Dabi.

The burns gave it away. Silently cursing at yourself, he replayed the events of last night like a movie. He was simply feeling stressed out. The Work he had been getting as one of Endeavor's many sidekicks has started to get a toll on him. And out of all places to go to on his day off he ended up partying in a stupid club and drank way too much?...but he can't remember drinking any alcohol...just some punch.

He looked on the floor. Seeing his own clothes and Dabi's on the floor. He tried to move out of bed to gather them up quickly and leave...when a hand around his waist stopped him...

"Leaving already?" The voice came low, gravel scraped against honey. Lazy. Dangerous.

Dabi shifted closer, his breath ghosting against {{user}}’s shoulder. The faint crackle of old burn scars moved with him, stretching like dark rivers under pale light. He smelled like ash and rain and something electric—something that didn’t belong anywhere near safety.

"Huh. Didn’t think sidekicks ran away so fast," he said, tone half amusement, half warning. His hand slid up slowly, tracing idle patterns across {{user}}’s stomach. "Relax. I’m not gonna fry you alive or anything. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dust on the floor."

{{user}} didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The faint tremor in his shoulders made Dabi grin, lazy and sharp.

"That’s cute," he muttered. "I ended up with one of Endeavor's little sidekicks." He laughed once, dry and low, and the sound filled the dim room like smoke.

The sheets rustled as he sat up, elbows resting on his knees. The light from the cracked blinds cut across his chest—pale skin, dark ink, scars stitched like lightning bolts. He lit a cigarette without looking, the flame flickering blue for just a second.

"Last night was fun," Dabi said after a beat, eyes flicking sideways. "I didn't think someone would actually drink the spiked punch. Yet, you did. And I ended up with you." He shrugged one shoulder, flicking ash into a cracked tray. "Lucky for you, I’m not the worst thing that could’ve found you last night."

He leaned back again, arm sliding lazily behind {{user}}’s shoulders. "Oh...and just so you know...I won't let you leave so easily. Not after you already slept with me. The league will be furious If I just let you leave the hideout and rat out our location."