Little Misadventures with BNHA (oneshot and short fic collection)

Dabi - Classification AU - Pt. 1

Dabi shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glancing up at the clock.

Dammit.

How could he be so stupid?

He should've known not to go out in public when he only had half an hour left.

And now he's only got ten minutes.

His several scent patches were already starting to peel off.

He gave one last tug at his quirk-suppressant cuffs that kept his hands together and down on the table.

It didn't work the last twenty times he's tried but it was worth a shot.

He could already feel his brain getting foggy.

A faint toasted marshmallow scent floated into the air.

Dammit dammit dammit dammit!

The door to the interrogation room suddenly swung open and Dabi would be lying if he said it didn't startle him.

A very tired looking hero took a seat at the other end of the table. His scent was akin to some sort of jelly but Dabi couldn't quite pinpoint whether it was more Caregiver or Little. It was strangely ambiguous.

"It's getting late and I would like to go home so let's make this brief." He began, clicking a pen. Dabi scowled, though doing his best to keep it from turning into a pout. People always liked to label things as "pouting" or "throwing a tantrum" to innocuous stuff, "Considering the lack of information in our system about you, we have to fill out this stuff the boring way. Name?" He asked.

Dabi stayed silent for a moment, glancing at the clock again, "Dabi." He finally stated. Better to get this over with so he can go back to the privacy of whatever cell they have here.

"Is that your legal name?" Eraserhead asked.

"No." Dabi answered, getting a little spark of pride from his own snarkiness.

Eraserhead just sighed and jotted 'Dabi' down, "Age?"

"24."

And so they went on down the paper, each taking turns saying a single word. That was, until they got to the end.

"Classification?" Eraserhead glanced up from the paper. As if to tell Dabi that he already knew the answer.

That asshole.

"None of your fuckin' business, old man." Dabi hissed, glancing again at the clock.

"We need to know so we can make sure you get the care you need. Now, I can write my assumption, or you can be honest with me." Eraserhead stated, tone holding a disgustingly caregiver-like air. That sort of 'if you lie I will be very disappointed in you' voice. Though, strangely enough, the "caregiver" aspect was more to the tone than to the actual scent in the air. Strange. And yet...

It made Dabi want to puke.

"I have the day off tomorrow so I'm in no rush," Eraserhead went on, getting up and strolling over so he was standing over Dabi.

Probably to get a better sense of Dabi's scent.

Which had only strengthened as the minutes passed.

"What's your age range?" Eraserhead went ahead and asked.

"I'm not a--"

"Your scent and pull-up peeking out of your jeans say otherwise." With that Dabi turned bright red and looked away, scowl finally devolving into an angry pout. "And by those scent patches I see falling off your neck seem to tell me you've been doing your best to hide your classification. Is it reasonable for me to assume you also take suppressants?" Eraserhead asked, raising an eyebrow.