eternally yours

Two

Your eyes snap back up to him and you see that he's not even looking at you, his gaze is down, probably looking at the liquor back in his hands. "Next time you see Hawks, tell him to finish the job while he's at it."

With no other choice, you step out from the shadows but keep your distance. "Tell him yourself. I'm no one's errand boy."

"Well..." Slowly, he turns around to face you. His eyes are lidded and he carefully lets his bad arm rest at his side as he speaks. "You got me, hero. Now what? Gonna kill me yourself?" He takes a step forward and with a sharp slice of your arm you light it on fire, instantly summon your fire blade and point it at him. "Stay right there." You warn, but he takes another step and keeps talking. "Turn me in, maybe?" His mouth stretches into an unsettling grin. "Make me atone for my sins?" When he smiles you see a flash of metal in his mouth.

Of course he has a tongue piercing.

Why wouldn't he.

"One more step and I'll skewer you." You say, hoping you sound more menacing than you think you do.

Dabi chuckles, the sound a low, raspy noise that makes your skin crawl as he takes one more step. "Well that's not very heroic, is it?"

You've stood your ground as he's made his advances and he's now inches away from the flames dancing at the tip of your blade, threatening to burn him, but his attention is on you and you only.

You force yourself to look him dead in the eyes. "I mean it."

"Do it then." He says casually and you know that he's won this one. There's no way you'd actually skewer him and both of you know this. You sigh deeply and lower the fire blade to your side, but keep it alight. "No, I'm not going to kill you. Or turn you in."

"Hm." He grunts, but he makes no other indication that he's an immediate threat to you so you slowly put out your flames and cross your arms as you ask, "Should I be worried about you trying to kill me?"

He stares at you for a bit longer and you can see the gears turning in his brain as the silence between you two stretches and stretches until his eyes twinkle. "Nah. I'm too tired right now. Maybe later." He's acting all tough, but the sickly pallor of his skin and the way he moves gives his condition away. Maybe it's seeing him in pain like this or simply that you've gone crazy, but something possesses you to say, "...let me see your injuries."

He tilts his head, more put off by this than you are, and his lips curl into a scowl. "Why."

"You're clearly in pain and I'd like to help you."

Instead of answering right away, he makes his way back to the table and takes another drink from the liquor. His back is to you when he says, "Then you're a fucking moron. You got a death wish or something?"

"If you could have gone back to the League so they can patch you up, you would have done that instead of coming here."

He says nothing, his attention on the holes of the overcoat now in his hands.

"Your wounds are on your back." You try. "You can't tend to them by yourself."

"If I let you help me then that means that I owe you." He growls, practically interrupting you. "And I don't like owing people anything."

"Yeah. You're right." You nod. "But would you rather die of tetanus?"

"Yes, actually." He says and you roll your eyes. "No one told me you were gonna be so dramatic."

"This conversation is going nowhere." He scoffs, slipping his hand through the holes in his coat. "Do whatever the fuck you want. Leave. Patch me up. I don't care."