The fire escape rattled under his weight, a familiar sound that always made your stomach tighten—not from fear, not anymore, but anticipation. Dabi was here again. You’d gotten used to the way he slipped through the shadows, the faint smell of smoke and singed hair following him up your fancy apartment building. You knew who he was, of course. But you didn’t care. You patched him up anyway. Always.

It hadn’t started as some carefully arranged thing. The first time he’d come to you, he hadn’t even planned it. He’d been running from a fight—one that left him burned, bloodied, and seething—and he thought your apartment would be empty. Easy. Safe. But it wasn’t. You’d been there, startled, watching him try to collapse into the living room without a word. You’d almost called the police. Almost.

Instead, you’d grabbed your medical kit. And he’d let you work. Silent, tense, barely moving except where he had to, eyes flicking to yours with something unreadable beneath the smoke-streaked exterior. That night, the unspoken agreement formed: he came to you when he needed help, and you helped him. No judgment. No questions. Mostly.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice rougher than the smoke-stained air around him. He leaned against the wall, a bruise blossoming dark under his eye. You didn’t ask questions—he never gave good answers anyway. You just grabbed your kit and started.

It was almost routine now, the quiet banter between sharp edges and antiseptic. But today… today something was different.

“Uh… Dabi?” You froze as you glanced up from the fresh bandage you were securing on his arm. His smirk had that familiar twist, but it wasn’t alone. Behind him, a line of silhouettes emerged from the shadows. Bloodied, battered, and chaotic, the rest of the League of Villains shuffled up the fire escape: Twice with his erratic grin, Shigaraki with that eerie, disjointed gait, Toga twirling a knife absentmindedly, Spinner shifting his reptilian form nervously, Mr. Compress adjusting his mask, and Kurogiri flowing like liquid darkness at the rear.

“Thought you might need a little… extra company this time,” Dabi said, the corner of his lip curling upward.

Your pulse quickened—not with fear, not with panic—but with that strange mix of exasperation, adrenaline, and something else you’d never admit. You sighed, already reaching for the next set of bandages. “Of course. Why wouldn’t you bring everyone?”

Dabi’s smirk widened. “You always know how to make us feel… welcome.”