Chapter Text
Dabi turns on his phone for the first time in roughly 48 hours.
It’s something of a birthday tradition, at this point. Letting his phone battery run out in January 17th and “forgetting” to charge it until sometime in the afternoon on January 19th, when the hangover he’s gotten the night before finally subsided. It was a challenge, getting drunk enough on his birthday for a hangover to stick, since his quirk naturally kept his metabolism quick, but so far he’s succeeded every year since he hit 17 and somehow managed to lift a box of The Good Beer and two bottles of vodka. At 21 he even landed himself in the hospital with alcohol poisoning, which wasn’t even the worst birthday he’d had.
He takes some hangover pills, drinks 2 bottles of water, and contemplates if he has enough energy to make some hangover soup while his phone sits on the charging dock. He has the full day to himself, so he’s in no real hurry. He always takes the 19th off, his own little birthday present to himself.
The vibration signals it coming back, and it rings in his head so hard that he starts boiling some water for the soup. He lets himself be taken by the routine, lets it distract him from the vibration that comes with the numerous texts he’s received in the past day or two. It’s only after he’s finished and drank his soup while reading his book (a translated version of L’Etranger), that he bothers casting a glance at his phone. The constant slew of texts has slowed down, only letting out a few odd vibrations that no doubt came from The League’s group chat.
He sighs and prepares himself before grabbing the phone. He scans over his chats quickly, opening and exiting all the ones from his family with nothing more than a cursory glance. Leaving them on read is better than never opening, he learned, since then they’ll keep texting him to see if he’d seen the message. Blocking was out of the question, since Fuyumi hunted him down last time.
It’s nothing new, wishes of a happy birthday and asking if he’ll come to the birthday dinner they’re hosting Shouto. It’s tomorrow night, closer to his birthday’s than Shouto’s, which was 8 days prior, but still Shouto’s since they couldn’t possibly celebrate it the week before when Shouto had exams, and he already had a separate celebration with his friends and mom will be there tomorrow and oh wouldn’t it be wonderful if if you two-
It’s more logical to celebrate it the Friday before, Dabi knows. Just like he knows that the reason Fuyumi insists on hosting Shouto’s birthday a week later is so that she’d have an excuse to invite Dabi, despite him never showing up.
He knows she means for it to be a double celebration, combining their birthdays into one. An excuse to get the whole family together so they can laugh and sing kumbaya and pretend that they all love and cherish each other equally.
Equally.
What a joke.
It feels more like a slap in the face, her annual invitation. As if he can’t even have his own birthday. Even his own birthday, he has to share. Has to have taken away from him and given to the masterpiece. Their family was filthy rich growing up, had more than enough money to buy two cakes on separate days instead of one. But no, even on his own goddamn birthday, he can’t have something for himself. He was a sucker for attention, he knew that, had followed way too many strangers home just because they leered hard enough at him. And yet even on his own goddamned birthday, his family couldn’t afford to fully give him their attention.
He can’t even remember the last time his parents celebrated him. Just him. Just Touya.
Fuyumi might think she’s helping, that forcing the two together will help them bond. Dabi thinks that they’ve known each other much too long for her to have such naive assumptions, for him to have to correct her. To say that he never hates Shouto more than he does on his birthday. That each invitation just reminds him that Touya will always be second choice. That even his own birthday could be replaced and taken over to be Shouto’s birthday.
He doesn’t get why his family thinks he’d be so excited to share with the brat. Since Rei and Enji walked in on his 8th birthday with their little bundle of joy, presenting him as The Worst Birthday Present Ever. He doesn’t even remember if he got an actual present, or if his parents assumed Shouto to be so wonderful that Touya would accept his precious existence to suffice as a birthday present (it didn’t).
Dabi lights a cigarette.
16 goddamn years. 16 goddamn years since the last time his family let him have a birthday to himself.
He hopes they choke on little Shouto’s cake tomorrow night. Hopes the strawberries on the strawberry shortcake (because of course it would be a strawberry shortcake, of course Shouto would take that away too) have gone rotten. Hopes they order sushi, because precious masterpiece actually likes fish, and get their throats scratched up by fish bones and get food poisoning from bad salmon.
For now, he just leaves them on read and holds himself back from blocking.
The only one he does respond to is Natsuo, telling him that he’s free for a haircut. If Natsuo wants. It’s their middle ground, now that Dabi has become estranged from his family. Every month or so, Natsuo comes for a haircut and bleach. They gossip and rag and tease and catch up as if they’re still kids sharing a bedroom despite living in a mansion full of empty rooms. Natsuo calls him a whore for his low cut shirt and half hidden hickeys and Dabi calls him a nerd and reminds him that he’s the one holding clippers. If it’s a good day, they promise to meet up at a cafe later that week with Fuyumi. If it’s a bad day, Natsuo will bring up Rei or Shouto and Dabi will go quiet, and they’ll ignore each other for another month.
Natsuo replies, swearing up and down about how tomorrow morning is ridiculous and the train to Tokyo is 3 hours long and what time do you want me to wake up? Do you hate me? Is this some kind of petty revenge over me throwing up on you when I was 18 months old you spiteful little man?
He ends up agreeing to come at 9:30 when Dabi threatens to cancel. He’ll sleep over at a friend’s place in Tokyo tonight, it’s fine.
Dabi opens his messages from his colleagues. The league have already celebrated with him yesterday, so the messages are mostly mentors and clients.
And then comes a message from an unknown number.
“Hello…”
His mind immediately goes to Enji. He has the old man blocked since high school. His agency’s number was also blocked, as well as his home number (Fuyumi tried to argue, but Dabi said that he can only contact him with her personal number or not at all).
He wouldn’t put it past Enji to use a new number to try to contact him. The man already tried to email him, tried reaching out by letter, tried using Rei or Fuyumi as middle ground, despite the fact that Dabi didn’t talk to his mother either.
Which means the message could also be from Rei.
He didn’t hate his mother, he just didn’t particularly like her, either. He loved her, probably. Like all children loved their mothers. Was finally old enough and mature enough to see that she was a victim, too. A bystander, but a victim. He wasn’t callous enough to call her an enabler, but not courteous enough to call her a good mother, either. She was there, and then she wasn’t. And that was that.
Maybe if she coddled him more as a child, comforted him, claimed him as something more than his father’s son, just like Natsuo and Fuyumi were her children, looked at him enough that he didn’t have to go begging for his father’s attention, maybe then he would feel something more. Would put more effort into rebuilding their relationship. But you couldn’t rebuilt something that didn’t exist in the first place.
Unlike his relationship with his father, there wasn’t anything to sour, or anything to save. They went from Endeavor’s wife and son to Endeavor’s separated wife and estranged son. Their entire family were practically strangers to one another, tied together by nothing other than blood. Their parents certainly never communicated with each other nor with them, Shouto was completely isolated, Fuyumi and Natsuo ignored, and Touya a runaway. A dollhouse more than a home. They all knew it, Dabi was just more honest about it.
So he deletes the innocuous message without bothering to open it. It was either Enji, Rei, a past hook up, or a hacker. He didn’t need any of those in his life.
“Your bird was here yesterday” Tomura greets him with.
His bird?
Oh.
Winged Hero Hawks.
Or Kei, as he introduced himself. Dabi doesn’t know why, the hero didn’t have that name listed anywhere, but he understood preferring being called one name over another.
The hero had walked into their salon the previous week for a haircut. Dabi had honestly expected to dislike the guy, due to his natural distaste for heroes, but he was… charming. Quieter and more awkward than his image suggested, maybe even a little shy? From the passing glances Dabi had seen on billboards and the news, he had expected the hero to be boisterous, flirty and annoying, but the man he had met instead was painfully human.
He was insanely hot, though, in a boyish jock-y way Dabi hated admitting he was attracted to. When the hero shed off his ugly baggy jacket, Dabi couldn’t deny that his eyes lingered on the muscles on his biceps. However if anyone dared accusing him of playing with the hero’s soft golden hair longer than necessary, Dabi would decry hearsay.
Dabi smirks, thinking about how the hero melted in his hands during their much too short rendez-vous.
“Why was he here?” Dabi asks. Tomura rewards him with a crack filled smiled. Dabi should really get him a lip mask of something. Not for Tomura, but for poor Shuichi who didn’t deserve to lock lips with sandpaper.
“Our premium preening services, what else” Tomura cackles “Too had our best masseuse took a day off” he pouts, what a horrifying sight, Dabi thinks.
“Fuck off” Dabi murmurs, going to the back room to put his stuff and prepare for the day.
He was aware, vaguely, of how some customers hang around him, thanks to Shigaraki throwing him as bait at any heteromorph that walked through their doors that had any inclination towards shiny things. So it wasn’t unusual to have a couple of eyes linger on him or follow him around for a while, or for him to receive mysterious care packages or the odd dead rodent as a sign of courtship and affection.
(Dabi didn’t even think Shigaraki went to middle school, so why he knew which animal species liked shiny things and would therefore latch onto him remained a mystery to him.)
Dabi didn’t really mind, most of the time. It kept business running, kept Dabi’s pockets full, and even helped calm kids down whenever they admired his piercings, so that they didn’t fidget as much or cry whenever he cut their hair/feathers/fur/etc. The ones who’s inclinations ran a little more romantic (though Dabi never kid himself into believing it was genuinely romantic, but mere quirk-influenced infatuation) usually took his rejection rather gracefully. The worse they’d do after was either requesting other hairdressers or switching salons completely, or the couple of times some left negative reviews accusing him of “baiting”.
So it wasn’t wholly unexpected for Hawks, who had a bird mutation and who’s eyes seemed to pin on Dabi’s piercings, to take an interest. Dabi had even left him his personal number in case he wanted to schedule a “piercing appointment” (no pun intended). Shigaraki also felt it appropriate to throw in the fact that the salon offered preening services, something that Dabi specialized in.
Dabi has to have a word with Kurogiri (who had the misfortune of being the closest thing they had to HR) about reminding Shigaraki that pimping out your colleagues is bad work etiquette.
Despite how well it may work.
“So really, why was the bird here?” Dabi asks Tomura as he exits again. He checks the time, 9:23. Natsuo had said he would come at 9:30, but he had a habit of running late since he knew that Dabi would squeeze him in regardless. Little Brother Privileges or whatever. Dabi won’t give him tea or use the expensive conditioner on him, though.
“He wanted to book the piercing appointment you talked about. Apparently he sent a text and you never answered. Didn’t even read, apparently.” Tomura said, throwing him a judge mental look. “If we have a chance of getting the number two hero as a loyal costumer, I expect you not to fuck it up because of your horrendous texting etiquette”
“You’re the last person I need talking to me about etiquette” Dabi snarks back. A text? What text? Dabi doesn’t remember getting any texts about piercing appoint-
Fuck. The unknown number.
He digs up his phone, looking through his texts before he remembers that he deleted it.
He pauses, for a moment. If the text was from Hawks, it means it wasn’t from Enji or Rei.
If the text was from Hawks, it means Enji or Rei didn’t text him. Not even on his birthday.
He barks out a short laugh. He’s the one who cut them off. He’s the one who blocked Enji’s number and never bothered saving Rei’s. And yet here he was, feeling his chest ache because mommy and daddy forgot his birthday. Poor poor Todoroki Touya.
He should be used to this, after 16 years.
Whatever, Dabi thinks, going up to the register and pushing Shigaraki to the side, who snarls and kicks at him like a stray. He opens the registry, searching for Hawks’s, Kei’s name under their past bookings.
There it is, January 8th at 14:30, reservation for “KEI”. He quickly notes it in his phone before stepping out the store, ignoring Shigaraki’s reprimands.
He’s pissed and hurt and sensitive. His birthday passed 2 days ago and he wants some fucking attention goddammit. If a blonde Greek god was willing to give it to him, if Dabi read all the signs right, then who was he to refuse.
Was it healthy? Probably not.
But Dabi wasn’t exactly known for doing what was good for him.
In a couple of seconds he has the phone pressed to his ears, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently and fighting the urge to grab a cigarette. Natsuo will be here soon and Dabi did not want another lecture.
Stupid med students and they’re stupid health standards or whatever.
“Hello?” A voice echo in his ear, and immediately Dabi can hear himself calming.
“Kei-San” he says, putting on his professional voice “I was told you tried to contact me. I was… out of commission for the past couple of days, and didn’t see your message, I apologize.”
“Oh” comes the surprised reply “oh, Dabi-san. No, it’s no worry at all! Really, I shouldn’t have been so forw-“
“Are you still down for the piercing?” Dabi asks. Then decides, fuck it. I’ve already come this far. “Actually… it doesn’t even have to be a piercing, we can just go for drinks, too”.
He can swallow his pride. Sure, he could waltz into any bar tonight and find someone who’d entertain him without putting as much effort as he was right now, but he already has a prize in mind, so really anything he’d get from the sleazy bars he frequents wouldn’t really satisfy him.
“I’d love to!” Hawks replies. “To, to both! We can do the piercing then go out for drinks, if you want? It might even take away the pain from the piercing”
Dabi snorts “All that hero work and a simple helix is where your pain tolerance is at?”
“Well, I’ve only ever gotten my lives pierced, so I don’t really know how painful it is.”
“It’s painless” Dabi assures. “The aftermath hurts more than the actual piercing, but it’s an easy one.”
He’d been doing piercings since he was 14 and stuck a needle that he sterilized with his own flames into his ear, hidden in the bathroom in the Todoroki mansion at 2am (he didn’t even need to hide, since his parents never noticed the new piercings until almost a year later). At 16, a couple of months after he left that house, he found a tattoo and piercing place sketchy enough to take him as an apprentice without asking too many questions.
Almost 10 years of experience. He can do a helix with his eyes closed.
“Would 6pm today be okay?” Dabi asks “that’s the time I get off work. You can come to the salon and we can walk to the piercing shop, or I can send you the address straight away.”
“6pm works perfect! I can come to the shop, no problem. I don’t really have any patr-. I mean, I’m pretty free these days.” Hawks replies
“Great, I’ll see you then” Dabi hangs up, seeing a white haired mammoth coming his way. The mammoth picks up speed before barreling into him, scooping him up in a hug.
“Happy Birthday, stupid big bro!” Natsuo laughs, letting his brother flail in his arms. He hates this muscle head family so much.
“Down, put me down” he insists, kicking his legs, aiming at Natsuo’s knees. Natsuo grins and promptly ignores him, walking into the store with his brother still flailing.
“Hello, Tomura-kun!” He greets sunnily as Dabi hisses curses at him, swearing to dye his hair fire truck red.
“Natsuo.” Tomura greets. “Dabi didn’t mention that you’re coming today.”
“He didn’t?” Natsuo says, finally putting Dabi down as he heats his body enough to almost burn. “I hope it’s no inconvenience to you.”
“Nah. Lazy bastard doesn’t have any appointments today. Too busy ghosting his clients” Tomura bitches. They catch up for a minute, before Natsuo finally goes to sit on a chair, greeting Shuichi and Magne as he passes by.
“Just a trim?” Dabi mutters, looking down on Natsuo’s head. His nerdy brother wasn’t particularly adventurous, and kept his standard spiky masculine haircut, something low maintenance that a mes student wouldn’t have time to style every day.
“Yeah, and root touch up on the sides. We didn’t bleach last time so they grew out more.” Natsuo says, tilting his head to show the two strands of red that started to peak through.
Dabi nods. This too, was routine. Natsuo was the first person, after himself, who’s hair Touya dyed. It was when Natsuo was 11 and decided he hated the crimson strands enough to just snip them off the sides of his heads, leaving him with bald spots. Touya laughed his ass off for a good 2 weeks, but eventually decided to take pity on his brother. By then, he had already started experimenting with dye on his own head, despite, or in spite of, his father’s constant disapproval. It took some trial an error to get rid of the red strands, the first two times resulting in orange and yellow strands and the third resulting in a fully green head, but they eventually worked out a formula that worked on Natsuo’s snowy hair.
Even after Touya ran away, Natsuo kept up the routine by himself. And when Shigaraki decided to open up the salon with his trustfund money so he can woo Shuichi, he had become their first regular customer. Dabi has been his primary hairdresser for a little over 2 years, since Tomura first opened the store, so he knew it was quick and easy work.
“So what’s this about ghosting clients?” Natsuo asks as Dabi snips away.
“I had a client who wanted a piercing. They apparently messaged me 2 days ago, but when I saw the message from an unknown number I assumed it was Endeavor and deleted it.” Dabi muttered. “I got a letter from him a month ago, a little after the rankings announcement, so it wouldn’t be too shocking if he also tried to text me from a different number.”
“Ugh, tell me about it. Fuyumi has been bugging me nonstop about visiting home. I think she even got mom in it, she’s lectured me a few times about forgiveness and family and shit.” Natsuo groaned.
Dabi kept quiet. He knew if he opened his mouth, he’d say something mean, and as much as Natsuo liked to pretend that he was just as tough and raged on and on about Enji, he was very protective over their sister and mother.
“Are you coming, by the way?” Natsuo asks after some silence, when Dabi comes back from the back room with his magic bleach mixture. “The birthday party, tonight?”
“Can’t.” Dabi says quickly. “Appointment.”
“Tomura just said that you’re free the whole day.”
“Piercing appointment. Separate from the salon shit.” Dabi clarifies, brushing the solution onto the sides of Natsuo’s head.
Natsuo rolls his eyes as Dabi slaps aluminum foil on him. “You can just say you don’t want to, you know.” He mutters.
Dabi rolls his eyes back. “Fine, I’d rather gauge my own eyes out than come. And I also do have a piercing appointment. And if I’m lucky enough, a piercing of a different kind.”
Natsuo looks at him in confusion for a second, before the wink Dabi tacks on makes the realization dawn. He mimics throwing up exaggeratedly. “You’re so gross” he snarks.
Dabi snickers, sweeping up the trimmed hair before settling on the chair next to Natsuo. He glances at the time and notes to wash Natsuo’s hair around 10:20.
“So who are you planning to see, exactly? Like is it a confirmed thing or are you gonna like go to a bar…” Natsuo asks
“Is this your ingenious way of asking me if I’m seeing someone?” Dabi asks, raising a well groomed (painstaking dyed) eyebrow at him.
“I’m just saying that it would be nice if you found something… stable” Natsuo decides.
“How much have you been hanging around Fuyumi? Those are her type of questions, usually.”
“Fuyumi isn’t the only one who can worry about your well-being.” Natsuo glares.
“So first it was bitching about the smoking, and now about my sex life? Throw me in a jail cell, why don’t you.” Dabi snarks, getting defensive. “I’m 24, Natsuo. It’s perfectly normal for me to have fun. You should try it sometime.”
“I’m plenty fun!” Natsuo defends himself. “I’m literally the coolest sibling.”
Dabi levels him with a flat look. “You’re not cool, you’re just a jock.”
“And you’re an edgy goth.”
“I’m not goth!” Dabi argues, just for Natsuo to mirror the exact same flat look he had thrown. He kicks at him. Then kicks again for good measure. Magne throws them a warning before they could actually start fighting in the salon.
“You didn’t answer my question. Who is it?”
“It’s a client. The one who I accidentally ghosted. I told him we can do the piercing tonight and invited him for drinks.”
“Wow, you work fast.” Natsuo whistles. Dabi shrugs.
“Why beat around the bush? He’s hot, I’m hot. I’m already pretty sure he’s interested. Cuz he’s a heteromorph who likes shiny things and all that, so why can’t I take advantage of that.”
“You know you’re more than just a shiny thing, right?”
“And you know that you’re not my therapist, right?”
Natsuo frowns, used to his brother’s defensiveness. Touya was contradictory like that. Both comfortable in his own skin and sexuality but also refusing to believe anyone would be more than shallowly attracted to him. He’ll spend countless nights charming strangers then run away at the first sign of something genuine or committed.
“I’m gonna tattle to Fuyumi” he grumbles, receiving another kick.
“Just because you’re not getting any doesn’t mean I should get cockblocked.”
“I’ll have you know I’m still in a very committed 4-month relationship” Natsuo professes proudly.
“2-months of which your girlfriend has been abroad” Dabi reminds him.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m depressed enough with exams coming up, I don’t need to remember that my cute girlfriend is having the time of her life in Italy. Where there are hot Italians.” Natsuo groaned.
It was how they existed now. Always 2 steps away from a serious conversation but changing the subject or running away as soon as it comes near. They weren’t 12 and 8 anymore, able to talk for hours in the night about their deepest and darkest secrets. Natsuo hasn’t been Touya’s confidant in years, and Touya no longer trusted anyone like that.
Natsuo mourns it silently, but doesn’t bring it up. He can’t force Touya to talk, he just has to wait.
Dabi washes his hair, scrubs at it harsher than he would for other clients just to be a dick, scrubs in some toner for good measure, skips the treatment because he’s doing all this for free, and passes a cursory blow-dry, just so Natsuo doesn’t catch a cold (despite it being physically impossible thanks to his quirk).
Natsuo admires his reflection, winking at himself when he catches Touya looking. Dabi gags at him, and says he’ll ring him up just for that. Natsuo promises to pay for him when they meet up for coffee next week.
“Are you sure you can’t come?” He asks, just as he’s about to exit. “Mom will be there. I know she’ll like to see you.”
Dabi rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t make me cancel the coffee date. You know I will.” He threatens lightly. Natsuo gets underlying message, nonetheless. Touya will come back when he wants, and if anyone rushes him he won’t hesitate to cut contact again. He’s done it before.
Always a flight risk, his brother.
Natsuo sighs. “Well, if not, then I suppose I’ll have to give you this.” He holds out a letter to him. Rei wanted to give it to Touya tonight, but Natsuo knew better than to expect him, so he took it upon himself to deliver it.
Dabi stares at it apprehensively.
“It’s not from Enji.” Natsuo snaps at him.
“I know.” Dabi says, but takes the letter, hesitating before putting it into his back pocket.
He hesitates. “I’m fully booked this week.” He says, refusing to look at Natsuo as his face falls. He isn’t really booked, but he also can’t stomach facing his family twice this particular week, when he knows Fuyumi will question his absence at Shouto’s birthday party and tell him how much ‘fun’ they all had. “But I can next Wednesday.”
Fuyumi has a half day on Wednesdays, Natsuo realizes. He smiles at his brother, scooping him in for one last hug.
“Goddammit Natsuo, not again.” Dabi hisses at him.
“I’ll tell Yumi-nee” Natsuo promises, letting go and running off before Dabi can change his mind.
“And don’t you dare cancel!” He shouts as he exits.
The letter feels like a pile of bricks.
It weighs down on him. He tries everything he can to forget about it, stuffing it into his locker (he tried to throw in the trash but couldn’t). He makes Toga paint his nails so that he could rush anything. Offers to give Tomura a hair treatment. Suggests giving Shuichi a scale mask. Anything to keep himself busy.
Why was today so goddamn slow?
Tomura eventually snaps at him and throws a broom at him, telling him to clean up if he has nothing better to do.
Eventually, 6pm rolls in and Dabi can whoop in excitement. Finally, something to do. He’ll do the piercing, get trashed, hopefully get laid. By tomorrow, he’ll have forgotten all about the stupid goddamn letter.