Rough Hands - A T.ShigarakixReader Story

(Tomura) Massage.

Tomura cracks his neck, sitting on the windowsill with his hood up and one of his legs keeping him propped up on the small ledge. 
Usually he wouldn't have made his presence so obvious, he would have hidden himself well behind the curtain. But when the others arrived back, ate, and subsequently went to bed without Dabi and Y/N arriving, that same nauseous feeling started bubbling inside Tomura. His skin began to crawl, making him want to claw at the skin on his neck. 
He hadn't so far, having managed to sedate the feeling with the mobile game on the burner that he cradled carefully in his hands.

It was threatening to reappear though with every loss on the game. The more he thought about Dabi and Y/N, the angrier and more distracted he got with the basic game he'd been playing, ending up with more and more losses.
He can't decide which is worse. The idea of Dabi killing her to get back at him for earlier, or the idea that he may be touching her in ways that only Tomura had so far. Even thinking of the two together sends a burning sensation straight to his throat.

As he begins to claw at his neck, having abandoned the mobile app mid-way through the game in favor of scratching at himself, to relieve the itchiness he was feeling, a Warp Gate opens in the room, black mist spinning out in a spiral. 
Tomura looks over, his eyes narrowing and his hand pausing. 
Dabi walks through, carrying a sleeping Y/N in his arms, her head pressed against his chest and legs dangling loosely over one of Dabis arms.
Tomura stands slowly, giving his neck a few light extra scratches before letting his hand flop to his side loosely.
"What happened?" He asks, staring the two-toned man straight in the eyes.

"She couldn't walk. Said she'd messed her leg up." Dabi shrugs, Y/N's limp body moving with his own movement. 
"How?" Tomura asks, the question coming out more like a statement with how blunt it left him.
"Just take her a sec." Dabi groans, his head lulling back slightly. "She's heavier than she looks." 
Tomura bunches his hands into fists, preparing his arms for Dabi to place Y/N in them. As Dabi exchanges her to Tomura, her pink eyes begin to show underneath her eyelashes. Tomura stares down at her, silently wanting her to fall back to sleep so he wouldn't have to feel the sickness he felt when he dealt with her in pain.

"She smashed the fuck out of some guys face with her knee." Dabi explains, shaking his arms off, somehow managing to make the action look as lazy as he usually appeared. "It was pretty cool, but I think that's what did it." 
Tomura looks down at her, and an unfamiliar feeling pangs in his heart. He scowls at the feeling. First the sickness she always seemed to carry around with her, and now his heart was skipping beats, feeling heavier and filling with sensations he couldn't wrap his head around. Feelings he'd never had before.

"Y/N." Tomura says, shaking her slightly. 
She flops around, her head landing on his chest with a hollow thud. She always looked so peaceful when she slept. It disgusted him.
"Y/N." He repeats. "Wake up." 
"Shigaraki." Dabi says, drawing Tomuras attention to his cerulean orbs. "Don't. Let her sleep."
Tomuras lips press together, his body seeming to stop him from spitting out what he wanted to say. 
He knew Dabi was right. He knew that waking her wouldn't bring anything good. She was angry and emotional because she was bleeding again, Kurogiri had said. And the amount of pain she must have been in to actually have to be carried would only add to her bad mood.

"Fine." Tomura spits, turning to carry her to the bedroom.
At least if she was asleep, he could put her to bed, and leave her there. No horrible feelings of illness in any shape of form as long as he didn't look at her, or dwell on her for too long. 
He doesn't know why Dabi was bitching about carrying her. She didn't weigh that much. Even up the stairs it wasn't too much of a struggle for Tomura. 
He kicks the door open gently, filling the room with the light from the hallway.

She moans a little as he lays her on the bed, his entire body stiffening as she does so, him trying to figure out what kind of noise it was she just made. It didn't sound like the one she made when he was inside her in one way or another, thankfully, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle the anger that would come if she was dreaming of someone that wasn't him. Maybe it was one of pain?
He looks at her face. It wasn't contorted. Not like it would be on a particularly bad day if she was in pain, even as she slept.

He decides to leave it be, sliding his hands underneath her, bunching his fists as tight as he can to ensure her safety as he does so. Her face bunches up when his hand brushes past her hip, signalling the leg that was giving her trouble. 
Tomura looks at the open door.
He could leave.
He could leave the nauseating feeling she just gave him behind. 
He could sleep downstairs peacefully.
He looks back at her, at her stupid, contorted face as she lays on her side.

With a frustrated grumble, Tomura closes the door, sliding his shirt off and leaving it draped over a chair in the corner of the room. Before climbing into bed himself, he rolls her gently onto her back, his crimson eyes tracing over her face as the wrinkles of discomfort straighten themselves out slowly. 
He slides beside her, trying not to shift the bed too much, his eyes never leaving her body and face. The longer he looked at her, the sicker he felt. 
He wanted to destroy her.

Gingerly, he presses three fingers into her bad hip, rubbing it in circles. Her face scrunches again, and she moves her head away, to the side. He pauses momentarily before doing it again, making sure to move the pressure down as far as he could reach without shifting his own body.
He's not sure what he's doing. Dabi had taught him something similar, saying it was good for her back. He wondered if attempting it on her leg would make her feel better.
The heel of his hand. That's what Dabi had said.
Tomura cranes his neck to make sure she's still sleeping. She is, her face a little softer than it had been when she turned her head. 
Good.

Tomura gently presses the heel of his hand into her hip, making sure his fingers are tucked in tight to his hand. He kneads the muscle as gently as possible, not wanting her to wake up and see him trying to help her.
She lets out a little sigh of content as he reaches the midway point of her thigh, his head immediately craning to ensure she was still asleep. 
His stomach drops, his entire body bubbling with that fluttering feeling she claimed wasn't sickness as he sees a small smile pulling at the corners of her plump, pink lips as she sleeps.