Dabi had lit three different cigarettes already. Each one mysteriously disappeared—or more accurately, got stolen while he wasn’t looking.

The fourth time, he caught you.

“You little—” he growled, gripping the edge of the counter in frustration. “What are you, some damn gremlin?”

You just grinned like you weren’t actively testing his patience daily. He scowled deeper, brushing past you.

“Toga I get. Compress, sure. Shigaraki? Fine. But you?” He turned, voice low and rough. “Why did they let a kid in? You’re like a raccoon with too much caffeine.”

From the corner, Twice whispered, “I like raccoons..”

Dabi rubbed his temples. “Of course you do.”

Every mission, you somehow ended up paired with him. Every time, you found new ways to irritate the hell out of him—whether it was asking too many questions, sneaking up behind him, or making fun of his serious face.

“Why don’t you go annoy someone else?” He muttered, smoke curling from his lips.

But despite all the attitude, he never actually told Shigaraki to get rid of you. Never said you didn’t belong.

He just grumbled. A lot.

And lit another cigarette.