#but im kinda in my feels thinking abt quirkless au! toya / dabi who wasnt ab*sed

[ihatebnha]

dabi + coworker

“You leaving, Touya?” 

Throwing his tattooed arms over the separator between the customer service desk and the open storeroom, he presses his chest against the flimsy glass and raps his fist against the wooden counter that’s underneath. 

“Told you, babe,” he says, rather nonchalantly, lips parted, teeth glinting under the fluorescent lights of the room. “It’s Dabi.”

You roll your eyes, fiddling with the walkie talkie in your hands as you smile sheepishly at his relaxed form from where you sit, ignoring the name tag that so distinctly says, “Touya.” 

“Are you leaving, Dabi?” you repeat, pressing your own chest against the desk when he smirks. 

He nods, rolling on the balls of his feet as he pulls out a pair of sunglasses and pushes them up his forehead, his messy black and white hair sticking up at the disturbance. 

Reaching out to brush your fingers against the dark tips of his bangs, you lightly smooth the hair backwards, pinching a strand between your digits when your hand pulls back, surprised at both its thickness and the fact that Dabi doesn’t seem to flinch at the gesture.  

“You’re wearing dad sunglasses, you know,” you state, head tilted, eyebrows raised. 

Touya, Dabi, whoever, only continues to smirk in return, his top lip curling upwards at the affection when he nods at the gesture, his wild muss of hair moving with him. 

“Makes me look hot, right?” 

You can’t help but laugh, nodding with him, unable to stop the teasing words from slipping past your lips, but Dabi’s grin only widens at your smile, under eyes crinkling and blue eyes bright when you say, “yeah.” 

-

Dabi seems pretty occupied with feeling all of the apples on display, his large and probably grubby palms stretching over each fruit he picks before he makes a face at it and puts it down. 

He’s about seven apples in before you say anything, now finished with picking your own groceries for the day. 

“Just pick one,” you sigh, pressing your basket into his hip as you join him at his side. “If you want a ride home we need to go now.”

“Lighten up, doll,” Dabi replies instantly, eyes barely making contact with yours before they return to the red and yellow stack in front of him, a dumb smile stretching across his lips, “I just want a good one.” 

He picks up another apple, makes a face, and puts it down, except this time, much, much slower. 

“Dabi,” you warn, aware of just how quickly this can and will turn into the Dabi Takes Forever Just to Piss You Off game. 

“What?” he says, feigning ignorance, reaching out for another apple as he makes a face at you. 

“Touya.” 

“Okay, okay,” he responds, dropping the act with a huff before throwing the single piece of fruit into your basket. “Jeez.”

Turning on your heal, you begin marching away to the check-out line as if to prove that you’re at least halfway serious about leaving him behind. However, hot at your heels, Dabi laughs, a hand reaching out to tug on the bottom of your shirt as you walk. 

“C’mere,” he chuckles, halting your footsteps behind a large display of chapsticks and soaps as he presses his chest into yours. “Let me make it up to you.” 

You scowl at him, but the expression doesn’t last long with the way his turquoise eyes stare into yours. Holding your breath, you have just barely tilted your chin in his direction when Dabi is suddenly pursing his lips and spitting a tiny glob of saliva across your lips with a gross, wet sound. 

Closing your eyes, you let your head dip forward in defeat despite the fact that you don’t actually find yourself to be all that upset when you peek at the weirdly proud smirk on his face. 

“You are,” you start, gritting your teeth as you slap a hand against his chest, “so disgusting.”

But he just laughs, shutting you up by using his rough fingers to pull your chin back up to meet his face, eyes once again looking into yours as he sticks out his tongue to lick up the mess of spittle he left across your lips. 

“You hush,” he teases, pressing his tongue against your mouth in between the words as if to unlock it. “You like me.”

And for all it’s worth, you do, your lips finally cracking into the smallest of annoyed smiles when he does finally press his lips to yours in a brief kiss of apology, and later, too, when he offers to carry the bag of groceries to your car on your way out of the market.