Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the loneliness that had been creeping in for weeks. Or maybe it was the crush of hero work finally pushing you past your breaking point. Whatever the reason, the fact remained that you were waking up in an unfamiliar apartment, in an unfamiliar bed… beside a very unfamiliar man who was sleeping definitely shirtless, on his stomach and head turned away.

Blinking through the fog of sleep and regret, you tilted your head toward the broad back facing you. Scars. Burns warped, and held together by glinting staples stuck to otherwise toned skin. The pattern was unmistakable. Recognition slammed into you a second later, clearing the haze from your mind far faster than the hangover ever could.

Dabi.

You were in bed with the League of Villains’ infamous firestarter. The burns were proof enough. That and his messy black hair.

A silent curse slipped through your thoughts as fragments of last night rewound like a film you never meant to star in. You had been stressed. So bone-deep, soul-crushingly stressed that you just wanted to escape for a few hours. But one drink became two, then more, and somewhere between dancing and forgetting your own name… you had ended up here. With him no less.

“...mmm…?” Dabi’s low, gravelly voice broke the quiet as he pushed himself up on his elbow. He glanced over his shoulder, brows knitting together as his sleep-heavy eyes met yours as his back muscles bunched and stretched, drawing his shoulder blades together. “…Oh.” A lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Mornin’.”