Flea

Chapter Forty Three

Portrait of Dabi from Maeve (not owned by me obviously). This'll be the only image I post, it's important for different stuff along the way. I'm mainly writing from his own or Maeve's perspective, so they're both pretty unreliable when it comes to his actual appearance. You tend to forget how intimidating he looks because the guy's inner monologue is so much softer than how he comes across. Here's a reminder pff

Maeve was in the middle of a nightmare: cradling her heaving stomach which gradually tore itself apart in spite of her terrified screams, when she snapped awake.

***

Dabi twitched awake, his face still pressed to the desk. Someone had turned off the light, and the choking scent of cigarette smoke disappeared to be replaced by something far gentler. It reminded him of brewing green tea with his mother, when he was so small she had to scoop more sugar into his cup than fluid for him to tolerate it.

Raising his head slowly, Dabi froze. He was staring into his own face, which smirked up at him through the darkness with a cruel glint in their brilliant turquoise eyes.

***

Maeve's hands flew to her stomach in order to remind the girl that she was still whole. She gasped for breath, tangling in the sheets and twisted around to sit up slightly in bed. The nightmares had been pummeling her ever since she fell asleep, so it was almost a relief to breathe in the cool night air. Maeve counted how many stars were visible from her window in an attempt to distract herself from the pounding of her heart.

She froze when a whiff of bonfires cut through those groggy contemplations.

***

Dabi blinked at the portrait of himself for a few moments, then snapped out of his confusion. He turned in the seat that was far lower than Psyche's and made contact with a pair of terrified blue eyes.

***

No

Nononononono

Even without glasses, Maeve could make out Dabi lounging at her desk like it was his personal throne. His eyes glinted sardonically in a shaft of moonlight. Everything about him, from the curve of his leathery neck to the arch of his eyebrow was too vivid, too horrifyingly real, for even her to dream up.

***

"Dad!" Maeve called, her voice breaking in fear. Dabi had never heard anyone sound so scared, even that homeless man he needed to eliminate or his mother when that bastard beat the shit out of him in 'training' sessions. It was like Maeve didn't have the strength to properly scream. Maybe she thought it was just another nightmare that had climbed out of her endearingly rumpled head into reality.

***

Maeve leapt out of her bed like she'd been electrocuted, bounding towards the door. Dabi swept like a phantom to block her escape route. He was back in his villain costume and the man's floor-length coat trailed over several months of accumulated mess. 

"Hey, Sweetheart. Nice pyjamas," he smirked, as she backed away from him, hugging her stomach. Maeve didn't reply, instead choosing to shout,

"Dad! Spice? It's the league, they're here!"

Nobody answered, even when she continued to yell. If they were in a position to help her, Aizawa and Todoroki would already have Dabi tied up with multiple broken bones. It made no sense. Maeve didn't know the full details, but their house was under 24/7 security measures on a higher level than the fucking Prime Minister. If villains had managed to get in without triggering any alarms, it meant... She had no idea what it meant.