Midnight Skies - A DabixReader Story

Heatstroke

"I made breakfast." You offer weakly, holding out a steaming plate to him as he sat perched on the windowsill again.
His blue eyes trace over it before looking straight at you, the stony coldness to his gaze ever present.
"I'm not hungry." He says simply, before turning his head back against the window, looking out at the neighbourhood lazily.
You look at the food you'd made a little puzzled. Considering the duress you were under, it wasn't the worst thing you'd made. You'd even offered him the better presented one to keep him appeased.
"It's midday." You mumble. "You need to eat."
He ignores you, his cheek meeting with the glass, making the sound of metal connecting with glass echo through the room.

You try searching his mind for the reason why he didn't want to eat but there was surprisingly nothing going on in there, not even one singular perverse thought was reachable to you, which was something you'd begun to get used to with your sudden unwanted roommate.
You wonder if it has something to do with him continuously hanging himself out of the window today. You suppose if you were hot enough to have to do that, you wouldn't want hot food either. 
"Alright." You say, moving the plate back towards yourself. "I'll make you some toast. You can eat it when if goes cold if you want."
His face turns towards you slightly, the metal lining his face creating a horrible scraping sound that travelled right through you.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you, making you feel a little uncomfortable almost immediately. Aside from the odd smirk, his face was eternally slack and bored, and it made him so hard to read. Not even your Quirk seemed to help at times as he'd ask you questions or come out with statements without even thinking about it first.
You decide not to hang around in case it was the wrong thing to have said, feeling his eyes on you even as you go back to the kitchen.
You put some bread in to toast, leaning on the counter to eat your own breakfast, enjoying the lack of cold eyes on you.
You half expected him to join you in the kitchen after his stare, but he didn't.

Once the toast had popped up you were already halfway through your breakfast, with a mouthful of food, you take the bread out and lay it on a plate, opening a window and laying it nearby to cool it down a little quicker.
You absentmindedly finish your breakfast, your mind somewhere else completely. It was the first time in your life where your head actually felt completely empty. You weren't listening to anyone elses thoughts, and you weren't even having your own. It was like your brain was detached from your body.
"Quit it." 
You practically jump out of your skin, your plate nearly falling to the floor. You look panickedly at Dabi, his raspy, damaged voice having brought you around to reality again. His face is as inexpressive as ever.
"Wh-What do you mean?" You ask, finding yourself stuttering for the first time since his break in. You weren't sure why now. Maybe it was down to the surprise, the sudden pulling back to earth or the cold, empty stare he'd had on you as you'd left.

"I told you, stop pretending you care." He says completely calmly despite the implication of his words. Last time he'd told you to stop 'pretending' you cared, he had definitely sounded threatening. "You're testin' me, doll."
"And you've chosen now to get upset about it?" You ask, genuinely not understanding why he chose to approach you now. "I'm just making sure you eat. I don't want to explain to the cops why there's a dead villain in my house."
You were thankful for the sudden reappearance of your feigned bravery, the look of cowardice was not one you really wanted to adorn in front of Dabi.
He stares at you blankly for a couple of seconds before quickly approaching you, gripping your chin again and backing you up awkwardly into one of your kitchen counters. 
You squeak as the bottom of your back collides with the part of the kitchen counter that juts out, your face screwing up slightly, and Dabis fingers tighten on your chin.
"I'm not gonna die over missing breakfast and you know it." He rasps, his icy eyes piercing through you and making you gulp.

His eyes bore into your own, making you feel more and more uncomfortable as you shift from foot to foot. Something you'd never had happen before happens in the second his grip tightens on your chin when you shuffle again, and you come over with a wave of nausea as well as the feeling of intense thirst, a small gag leaving you, and getting his hand to fly away, his eyes narrowing as he takes a couple of steps back.
"Sorry." You mumble, pressing your palm against your mouth. "I don't know what happened ther-" 
You gag again, your body lurching slightly in response to the nausea. 
"Sorry." You mumble again, your face turning a slight tint of pink as his healthy skin begins to whiten. Clearly, from what you remembered of the memory he'd had of someone else throwing up, he had a weak stomach himself and wasn't too good with vomit.
"You that scared?" He asks, and you can tell his voice was meant to sound patronizing, but the crack and slight gag at the end of it made it lose its edge. 
You begin to sweat as well, your body beginning to heat up more than it had been previously, you silently hunch over, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your hand over your stomach.

"You pregnant?" He asks suddenly.
"What?" You snap, frankly a little insulted.
"You keep doing that." He mutters, colour slowly returning to his skin. "Cut it out if you're not knocked up."
There's a brief pause as you consider the potential benefit of lying about potentially being pregnant. Maybe he had enough decency left not to kill or harm a pregnant woman. You eye him curiously, as if the answer to your curiosity lay in his torn up clothes and glacial stare.
"I mean, maybe." You reply, trying to make it sound as genuine as possible.
His face doesn't change, nor does his posture or tone in his eyes. He just stands staring at you for a couple of seconds before shrugging and turning away again.
"What shit luck you've got, doll." He says simply as he retreats back to your living room, presumably to hang out of the window again.
Thankfully it doesn't take your body long to get over the feeling of sickness, your body temperature cooling down and after a couple of shaky glasses of water, you feel relatively normal again.

You wonder to yourself what had happened there as you take a deep breath, grabbing the now fully cold toast and carrying it through towards the villain hanging out of your living room window.