Ride or Die | Dabi x Reader

SIX

"This is your car?"

His car keys swung around his pointer finger as we approached it, the vehicle parked carelessly in front of my apartment building, partially on the sidewalk.

"Huh? Yeah. Why?" He asked, walking a few paces in front of me.

"Because didn't I just find you out in an alleyway in the middle of a storm? No disrespect, but I kind of thought maybe you were homeless." I stated lightheartedly, "This is a fancy car."

I shoved my hands in his sweater pockets out of habit and was met with foreign items. I pulled out an old lighter, a crumbled up receipt, and a piece of gum. 

Giggling, I put them back and stuck my hands back in the pockets, the fuzzy material feeling soft against my skin.

Shoto slung his arm across the top of his car and gave a guilty smile, "You just caught me on a bad day. I'm not homeless." He hesitated, "I mean I have roommates."

I shrugged and put my arms up defensively, getting in the passenger side of the car, "Hey, it's none of my busi—"

The second I sat down on the seat, I was overwhelmed with the scent of his cologne. It wasn't suffocating, but made every hair on my body suddenly stand up. My senses were in full drive.

Shoto slumped in to the drivers seat and closed the door, making his presence even stronger. The mixture of his sweater, car, and him all together was making me dizzy.

Where is this coming from? I was fine five minutes ago?

I rolled down the window and took some subtle deep breaths.

"Does my car smell bad? I haven't smoked in here in ages." Shoto questioned, me still not looking at him, "If you want I can spray some of my cologne—"

"—NO. That's okay!" I interrupted, turning to him quickly and grabbing his wrist to stop him.

Both of us looked down at my hand touching him. My fingers were wrapped around his scars and staples on his forearm.

Even though last night he let me touch his scars, I didn't know if that meant it would be okay to do again. I quickly removed my hand and put it back in my lap. Silence fell over us in the car.

"I like your hair like that." He mumbled suddenly.

I turned to him and he was staring at me intensely, it was almost hard to keep eye contact. As if I looked for too long, he could read my thoughts.

Touching the tips of my hair, I nodded, "Oh, thank you."

Before either of us could say anything else, Shoto grabbed the stick shift and reversed out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?"

I rolled up my window now, a little more accustomed to him, and looked around his car while he drove.

All the interior was black leather, matched his aesthetic very well. It was also very clean. The only thing was an extra pair of boots next to my  feet.

"Does it matter?" He replied, pulling on to a main road.

Everything about his body language made me angry. And a little horny?

My eyes widened at that last thought.

Fuck you Seiko this is all your fault for saying I need to get laid.

"Yes it does matter. You can't just take me from my house late at night and not tell me where we are going." I huffed, squirming in his sweater.

As casual as possible, I watched him as he drove. His one arm draped over the steering wheel lazily, his toned muscles exposed past his tshirt. His long legs were bent and slightly spread, his jeans far too tight. And his head was leaned back against the head rest, his demeanor relaxed while he drove.