(OC x Dabi)
A pro hero and a villain? Crazy right? People with two different opinions on society, able to stay together? Not unless you to take a risk on it.
"Didn't leave the fucking window unlocked for me, doll? Ouch, that hurts." He sarcastically...
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THIRD-PERSON POV:
Dabi knocked on the glass of the window as he stared inside. He noticed the TV was on and that something was cooking in a pot on the stove, but he didn't see her.
He knocked again, louder this time as he grew impatient. He looked down at the door handle, taking a hold of it as he attempted to open it, but it wouldn't budge.
Where the hell is she? He asked himself as he looked at the steps. Oh... hell.
Kiara was walking down the steps with a towel wrapped around her body she took a different towel to help dry her hair as she went into the kitchen to check on the pot.
Dabi exhaled heavily as he knocked on the glass door this time, louder in a rapid motion. This got her attention with a surprised look on her face as she made her way to the door, unlocking it and sliding it open as she stood in front of him.
"Called me for a job. Didn't expect it to be this." He grinned widely as he looked her up and down.
Kiara took the towel that was used for her hair and threw it at his face, walking away to the kitchen. He let the towel fall in his hands as he locked the door and threw it on the couch as he followed her in.
"Stop!"
Dabi froze, stopping in his steps as he looked at Kiara with a disbelief look on his face.
"What???" He asked.
"Take off your boots." She complained to him. "You've been entering the house with your boots on and haven't put on any slippers."
He looked down at himself and noticed his books were still on. He sighed and took them off, walking to the front door and placing them there as he put on some slippers.
"Happy?" He grumbled.
Kiara nodded as she opened the lid of the pot. She took a bowl before turning her face.
"Have you eaten yet?" She asked.
Dabi shook his head. "Nope. Little down on money." He grumbled.
"You want some of this Kenchin-jiru soup I made?" She questioned, showing him a bowl of vegetable soup.
He examined it. "Wouldn't hurt." He shrugged as he accepted the bowl, walked away from her to the dining room, and sat down on a chair.
