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Dabi had managed to keep Touya away from Endeavor for only three months.
Endeavor had come into the League's little safe haven in the psychiatric wing of Tartarus. He had put in a request for Dabi to be transferred under his supervision. Apparently, his psychiatrist had thought it was a great idea. "Something Touya had expressed wanting." He thought it was a load of bullshit and she was making stuff up. They had stalemated for months after that, a lawyer's nightmare battling between Dabi's medical power of attorney due to his recent revival, his legal rights as a domestic terrorist, and his fucking mental capability to make decisions for himself.
Of course, Endeavor won in the end. Dabi was deemed not stable enough to be able to choose what he wanted. Which was also bullshit, by the way.
If there hadn't been multiple measures put in place to prevent such a thing, Dabi was convinced Endeavor bought off some of the judges. He still wasn't fully unconvinced. If he wasn't stable enough to make his decisions, how was he stable enough to leave Tartarus? But apparently, they considered his drugged-up state to be docile enough for discharge. They said he wasn't "showing willingness to change" like the others, and maybe a change would help "encourage recovery." Maybe they just wanted to get rid of him, hoping the former Number One would kill him if he acted out.
Tomura had looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smug look. "Give him hell," was all his former boss said, and wow. He didn't even fight on Dabi's behalf. He felt almost hurt about it, if the prospect of terrorizing Endeavor wasn't extremely appealing—despite the fact he was on too many drugs to do much than be a nuisance.
So the guards had dragged him out. He was wheeled out in a hospital chair to Endeavor's car after. A modest black car, back windows tinted. Dabi settles in the leather seat, forehead resting against the window as he breathed.
Everything hurt. Everything ached. Fatigue gnawed at his bones, threatening to pull him under. It was the only saving grace for any of the facility staff that the best he could do was spout a few curses and throw a weak fist. His broken body could be overpowered in seconds, and it didn't take long before he gave up trying to fight. Fighting only leads to restraints, chemical and physical. So he sat, spitfire and obstinate, until they upped his sedatives to make him complicit. The drug cocktail sludged through his body, sizzling out his quirk and his energy. He hated it.
Next to him, he could feel Endeavor's body settling next to him. He had raised his head to stare daggers into the man's skull before slumping back against the door.
The car pulled into an unfamiliar area before stopping at a modest-sized house. Apparently, Endeavor was attempting to be better with his family. And that had included a new house, away from old memories. Modified with his family in mind (and his own injuries Dabi inflicted), it had a safe zone that allowed for the others to lock Endeavor out if they wanted. Shouto was probably the only one who took advantage of that feature—but it was a safeguard Endeavor didn't budge on if they wanted to stay with him. It was a "huge ego sacrifice," according to the family therapist they were seeing. Or whatever.
Dabi tried to settle his anger at that. Of course, Fuyumi, Shouto, and Mom still have a choice to leave and tools to feel safe. But he, who wanted nothing more than to run, was forced here. Vulnerable.
Your hatred of him stems from your need for his attention. Bad attention is still attention in your brain. His psychiatrist's whiny voice crops up in his brain. He grumbles.
So there it was. Endeavor had pulled him out, clipped an ankle monitor on him, and given him a tour of the house. It was decent in size, a bedroom and bath for each, a kitchen, a living room. Not much, but enough. He ignored the fact that there were no locks on his bed or bath. The kitchen utensils and any cooking machinery were locked up. Any light fixtures were embedded in the ceiling, making it impossible to hang anything from. The television was also embedded in the wall, covered by a thick sheet of plastic that wouldn't be able to crack. The medicine cabinet was only in Endeavor's bathroom, and heavily protected so Dabi couldn't access it. The entire house had an automatic locking system that would prevent Dabi from escaping. He giggled at it all. The old man had really pulled out all the stops. Endeavor paid to modify the house for him.
And of course, his stupid fucking family weren't the only ones that had to be a pain in his ass. Nurses and health aides flitted in and out of the house, checking in on him and his recovery, checking the cuffs wrapped around his forearms were still full of sedatives and connected to his internal temperature, checking he was detoxing safely from the slew of drugs that Rei demanded he be weaned off of. (Dabi hoped his grateful look was understood by her; that's all he'd ever manage.)
He spent three months in that hellhole of a house. Endeavor was obviously trying to implement whatever stupid plan he and his therapist had come up with, the others following his lead. And Dabi couldn't exactly get away from them. Nor could he put up much of a fight. So he sat, played nicely, and reserved his strength for an emergency.
He let Endeavor play his little house game, swallowing the bile on his tongue.
He didn’t talk to Endeavor much, regulating himself to one-word communication paired with death stares. And Endeavor obliged. The only time he was forced to talk was those stupid online therapy sessions, which made Dabi want to claw out his vocal cords so he wouldn’t have to speak again. But that would mean sedatives and hospital beds and doctors and blackouts, and Dabi couldn’t do that again. He kept conversations curt with the others. Fuyumi managed to pry a few sentences from him here and there, but they all got used to Dabi's silence.
Three months of their awkward dance around each other.
Then everything crumbled.
It was a bad pain day. Dabi groaned as he woke up. Muscle spasms wracked his body. His neck jerked to the side, leg spiking in pain. The nerves were ever so slowly connecting like wires of pain around his body. His seams had already closed, which was... nice that he didn't have to worry about burning off infections, but that also meant any future quirk use would be a bitch.
(If he'd ever use it again.)
At least he saved dear old dad money trying to fix him. His fucked up lab experiment body already did all the work.
Dabi pulled the covers tighter around himself. He was going to need a heating pack at least. And maybe some of his pain relief cream. But there was no way he would be able to get up like this. Dabi ground his teeth, exhaling carefully. The home aide wouldn't arrive for another hour, and the pain shooting through his body was only increasing. He doesn't think he could wait that long.
Endeavor had not come into his room in the three months of staying. He avoided it like an invisible wall at the threshold barred him from stepping a single foot in. Instead, the hired staff came in and out, becoming the unintended messengers between the two. And Dabi really, really didn't want to break that barrier by letting him in. He gripped the sheets, a small stream of smoke escaping his lips. It was the most the suppressant cuffs allowed from him. They were already buzzing their first warning. Dabi sighed.
There was a button at the head of the bed, where the rail sat. He had never used that button. It was humiliating, it was vulnerable.
Another shock of pain streaked through him like lightning, and he yelped. His body contracted, muscles stiffening up. Fucking hell. He wishes he could pull on his fire, relight his body until the burns sear through his pain receptors, and he doesn't have to feel again. His jaw locks, and Dabi decides that's enough of it. He angles his entire body so that his contracted hand can hit the call button. The energy spent in that simple action wipes him.
Endeavor is there in less than a minute. He hovers at the edge of the doorway, unsure. Dabi stares at him, still mostly covered by the blankets. Watching the giant former Number One be so fidgety and confused, Dabi would laugh if it didn't hurt to breathe right now.
The spell seems to break when a pained whimper escapes his lips. Endeavor's eyes go wide, immediately stepping past the doorway to rush towards his eldest son. Dabi flinches hard, which only makes the pain worse. He watched the man stumble to kneel at his bed, cane cluttering to the ground. "What can I do?" Endeavor whispers, hand twitching like he wants to touch Dabi, but restraining himself.
"Just. Just get the pain balm," Dabi manages to grit out, "heat pack." He shudders in a breath, eyes fluttering shut as he turns and groans into the pillow. He hears Endeavor's footsteps fly unsteadily out of the room, off to his bath, where Dabi's medical supplies reside.
He shuffles under the covers, trying to stifle his cries. Endeavor does not need to hear how weak he is. Humiliation spilled through his guts, making him nauseous. Or maybe it was the pain.
Ugh. He was probably going to throw up. But getting up would make everything worse. Dabi shut his eyes, breathing to try and quell his stomach rolling.
It didn’t take long for Endeavor to return. Dabi sighed, wishing for a few more minutes of peace.
“I have the pain cream,” he rumbled, “a heat pack, and the heating blanket.”
There was a pregnant pause, and Dabi pulled back the sheets to glare at Endeavor.
“…And the prescription morphine,” the ex-hero ended, meek and quiet. A shudder of pain wracked through Dabi's body. Or maybe it was fear.
“No,” he stated, eyes narrowing.
Endeavor sighed. “Please, To—son. You’re in pain.”
“What’s new?” Dabi grumbled in return, relenting as Endeavor laid the blanket over him and plugged it in. “Left calf,” he commanded as Endeavor settled the heat pack under it. The warmth seeped into him, the muscles untensing. He breathed.
He tried not to flinch as Endeavor’s hands rested on his legs, rubbing the ointment into them. The old man was persistent in his role of “Trying to Be a Good Dad”, Dabi had to admit. He carefully searched through Dabi’s limbs and torso for contractions and pain, scanning Dabi’s face for the worst areas and massaging his warm fingers into the muscle.
Dabi fucking hated that it helped.
Quietly, Endeavor slinks back, eyes flitting around. “Look, I know you have your qualms with medication, but—”
“I said no, you old bastard,” Dabi grits his teeth, gaze darting to the box of meds like it was going to reach out and attack him. “I’m not taking any fucking pills. I don’t care if they’re prescription or not. They've got me on enough shit as-is. I’m not taking any more."
“There’s nothing in them,” Endeavor said, slow, gentle. “It’s a low dose; it shouldn’t even make you drowsy. I'll take one if you need convinced. And I’ll stay here. Nobody can get in with the security system.” He grips Dabi’s wrist in a surge of emotion. “I won’t lose you again.”
And it’s the final straw.
He feels it instantly, the cold, indifferent cloak of safety crackling and shattering around him. Dabi slips away, further and further as his emotions come barricading through like a break in a dam. Tears well up, and for once, he misses when he didn’t have tear ducts.
“I can’t,” Touya gasps out, tears streaming down his face. “Please. I just. I can’t—please don’t make me. Please. Please. I don't wanna—don't wanna lose control. I can't. Please.”
The terror barrels into him like a freight train with missing brakes. It slams into his chest, an agonizing pain more unbearable than his muscles. Touya always feels too much. Always is overwhelmed by emotion. Any grasp he had before is gone as he rides the rapids of his feelings.
His father notices the shift almost instantly, reaching his hand up to Touya’s cheek. Touya sinks into it instantly, against his better judgment. “Touya,” he coos, stroking away the waterfall of tears. “It’s okay, I’m sorry for pushing. I just don’t like seeing you in pain.”
Touya chokes on his tears. His dad’s strong arms pull him up against the headboard, leaning him so he can breathe. He ignores the pain spasm.
His lungs seize as he splutters for air. Enji’s hand rests back along his jaw. Touya weakly bats at it, but his arms are so sore that they barely make him move a millimeter. His chest burns, muscles screaming at him. None of it does any better for his mental state.
“Slow breaths,” his father instructs, exaggerating his own breathing so Touya will follow. Touya mimics it, trembling. His hand clenches Enji’s shirt, leaning towards him. Enji settles on the edge of the bed, pulling Touya into his arms.
Touya hates it. He hates it so much. He wants Enji to go away. Or he doesn’t. He wants to stay like this. He wants to stay entangled in his dad’s arms for eternity.
Touya was always so confusing, mixed in contradictions and complexities and illogical wants. Dabi was easier, linear, where Touya spiraled.
You convinced yourself that you hated him. You created “Dabi” to hate him. But you know it isn’t true.
Touya hiccuped against his father’s embrace, beating his fists against Enji’s chest. “Go ‘way,” he says, wincing. His raspy, deep voice sends a shiver of cold through him, churning his stomach. “GO!”
His father doesn’t flinch. “Do you really want me to leave?” he asks, calm, level.
Touya pulls at his fire, growling. It’s all Dad’s fault. It’s all his fault. He should die. Touya should kill them both. He should kill them both, and then nobody would have to deal with Endeavor's harm again. He'd be doing the world a fucking favor.
A loud whine pours out from his cuffs, and Touya freezes. The last warning before he gets filled with sedatives, before his vision will blur and who knows how much time passes. Touya trembles, and Enji holds him tighter. Dread runs through his veins as he immediately squashes down his quirk, shaking and sobbing. He's drowning in his emotions, the fear and pain seeping into his lungs and blocking out any oxygen. He whimpers again, tucking himself into his dad's hold.
“You’re getting small, aren’t you?”
And his emotions snap again like a rubber band. He swings like a pendulum, violent, barely tethered. Like a pendulum with a heavy weight on it being spun around and thrown at him face first. He bares his teeth, squirming out of the other's grasp and snarling.
He’s not. He’s not regressing. He's a perfectly capable adult who wants nothing more than for the former Pro to leave him alone and die and fuck off forever. He's Dabi, the domestic terrorist and serial killer and he is not small or weak. He digs his nails into Enj—Endeavor, trying to draw blood. But his hands are too weak. They don’t comply, and he barely makes an indent.
“Fuck off,” he grounds out, and he hears a click of a tongue.
Suddenly, the arms pull away, and Touya shrieks. No no wait please don’t go please don’t leave please don’t ignore me.
Dad’s arms wrap around him once again, and Touya melts. His eyes flutter closed, curling into the embrace. A thumb wipes away his tears, his whole body moves as Enji breathes, slowing Touya’s own. His brain starts to fuzz over, an uncomfortable, floaty feeling he can't seem to get rid of. He nuzzles into his dad's chest, slowly slipping under the feeling as his brain turns to static.
The emotional roller-coaster made him exhausted. He doesn't have any energy even to move his tongue or blink. He's been treading water in a violent sea, struggling against opposing waves threatening to drag him to the depth. Finally, it's calm. Finally, he can breathe.
Words are murmured into his hair, the gentle thumping of Enji's heartbeat lulls him into tranquility. He's so warm and safe, and the pain is going away. It's good.
"I've got you," his father soothes, the rumble of the words rolling over Touya like a blanket. "It's okay."
He wiggles, attempting to move his body so his legs are splayed over Enji's and he can properly hide into him. His dad chuckles, helping pull the limbs to their place. His arms cross against Touya's ribs in a firm hold. "Don' move," Touya says quietly, "please."
"Of course. I'll stay as long as you need," Enji murmurs.
His father's body warms, just enough to loosen his sore muscles. He rubs into Touya's side, massaging again. Touya practically keens, trying to press himself into it as much as possible. Tears are already slipping down his face again. Dad is paying attention to him. Taking care of him. He's looking at him.
Like a sponge, he soaks it up. He wants to stay like this forever. Bind himself to his dad's ribs, bury himself behind his lungs. Something Enji will never forget, always hold and protect. Something important. Something loved.
"Oh Touya,"—that's him!—"I'm so sorry."
He manages to warble out some incoherent noise, sighing as his father's hand cards through his hair.
Touya finds a nice spot on the floor to stare at, letting his mind drift away. It's a nice quiet, a quiet he never gets. Warm and safe, and the static in his brain makes everything in his vision become dreamlike. He likes it. Better than reality.
Eventually, he drifts off to sleep. Better than he has in three months.
Dabi wakes with mortification and anger, in exactly that order.
The memories hit him like a particularly nasty hangover, and he stumbles out of the sweat-soaked bed like he was having one.
His limbs are wild and uncoordinated, body refusing to register his brain's commands. He grips the bedrail as he nearly collapses, groaning.
The universe must be laughing at him.
Dabi grabs at the wheelchair at the foot of the bed, nearly crashing it against the box spring as he violently yanks it towards himself. Maybe he should break it. Get Endeavor to buy him a new one as penance for the utter bullshit he put Dabi through earlier.
He slips into it with a grumble, pushing himself to the bathroom and staring at the mirror.
A tear-stained mess stares back at him. His body is covered in sweat, sticky and uncomfortable from the balm spread across his skin. His hair splays out unceremoniously. His eyes were bloodshot, puffy and sore. He looks like a man that hit rock bottom, then kept digging. Touya Todoroki never does things partially.
He peels off his sleepwear slowly, grabbing a wipe and getting rid of most of the mess. His body ached from yesterday, but nothing he couldn't power through. A pair of clothes had been conveniently and neatly folded on the sink for him. By the clumsy attempt, Dabi could tell it wasn't from an aide.
He made sure his wheels ground against the floor, loud enough for the older man to hear as he stormed out to the kitchen area. Endeavor was at the stove, seated in his rollator. Well, at least they both were having a shitty evening. Fuyumi was by his side and supervising his apparent attempt at cooking.
Both of their heads swiveled to look at him.
Dabi tried not to squirm under Fuyumi's gaze. Her teacher stare was roaming over him, eyes darting up and down his obviously disheveled appearance. He cleaned up best he could, but his hands still struggled with fine motor skills, and it was embarrassingly apparent.
"Hello," Fuyumi says, soothing. "We're just starting dinner, if you'd like to get dishes out?"
"I'll break 'em," Dabi warns, though the tone lacks the hostility of a threat, more of a statement than anything. His leg twitches, bouncing as he looks away.
Fuyumi nods thoughtfully. "No worries," she replies smoothly, turning towards the cabinet and plucking them out herself. "Dad's making chicken katsudon."
"You're making it. I'm a glorified second set of hands," Endeavor points out, and Fuyumi laughs.
It's a full and genuine sound, and Dabi recoils at it. When has there ever been laughter in the Todoroki household? Quiet giggles on the best of days were still clamped down so Endeavor wouldn't hear. It was a foreign sound from his sister.
Dabi's eyes narrow, and he quickly tries to recover. "Then you can finish it on your own, right Yumi?" He throws the bone, watching as Fuyumi recovers from the initial bubble of emotions at the nickname to pick over the sentence. His eyes dart to Endeavor, then back to her.
Endeavor grips the cooking chopsticks tighter, and Dabi's eyes zero in on it. Good. He's pissed. Maybe he can bait the man enough to ship him back to Tartarus so they never have to talk about this. "He's obviously not doing anything helpful, pretty fuckin' unsurprising if you ask me."
"Touya…" Endeavor says slowly.
Dabi sneers at him. "Not my name."
Fuyumi puts her hands on the counter. "Touya, don't do this, please…"
"What part of stop fucking calling me that will you people never get?" Dabi snaps, shivering.
Touya-kun, a voice purrs in the back of his brain. A stupid, incessant voice that chased him down alleyways and kept him paranoid on the run for years.
"I'm sorry," Fuyumi says, wringing out her hands and looking down. Dabi shoots her a withering look. "I just thought, you told everybody—"
He would really like to trash one of All For One's labs right now. Bring Tomura and Kur—Shirakumo along. Hell, maybe the whole League. Make it a party.
"Yeah, well. Things change."
Touya is synonymous with death to you. Dabi is survival. You're living now, again, so I'm guessing you pulled back into that safety net.
Adding his psychiatrists office of things to burn down. He rubs his forehead.
"Dabi," Fuyumi settles, exhaling a breath. "I'll finish dinner. Dad, can you..?"
Endeavor stands, offering an apologetic look to his daughter that makes Dabi seethe. "We'll be at the table." Fuyumi nods, pulling out ear buds to give them a little privacy.
Dabi wheels himself to the open space at his seat, Endeavor on the opposing side. God, the bastard is making this seem like a fucking hero interview the way he laces his fingers together on the table and sits up straight. Dabi bites back a laugh.
"I'm sorry for intruding on your space earlier," is the first thing out of Endeavor's mouth, and Dabi balks.
That was not what he was expecting. Maybe Endeavor grilling him about what happened, holding it over his head smugly as a way to keep him here. An apology though? His mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish.
Endeavor's hands rest on the table, and he levels a gaze at Dabi. "I did not want to go into your room without expressed permission. Which you didn't give. I invaded your room because I was…" he sucks in a breath, "scared."
"What the fuck?" Is all Dabi can manage to say. He stares at Endeavor incredulously. Nervous laughter peels out of his throat. "What the fuck is going on? When the fuck have you cared about boundaries?"
The older man tightens his jaw, and Dabi continues.
"No, tell me Endeavor. Since when have you given a fuck about what other people want? You never had a problem dragging me out of my room to train as a kid! Never had a problem barging in screaming about who-knows-what!" His voice raises, louder, and Endeavor flinches.
"Son, that's not—"
Laughter erupts from him, making his lungs burn. "What a treat! Finally had enough breakdowns to make you get your head out of your ass. Only took, what, thirty? Fourty? What did it take? Finally seeing me miserable and weak enough to barely put up a fight? Oh no—wait I know! You think you got your precious little Touya back now, don't you? You think one episode of agonizing pain fucking with my brain and suddenly I'll run back to you like a fucking dog?"
Endeavor raises his hands in surrender. "That's not what I'm saying, son." He watched as Dabi heaved, glaring at him. "Your episode made me react poorly, I'm sorry. I… I did think for a moment I was with Touya again, but that was a lapse in judgment. I talked to your psychiatrist, and I want to talk to you to figure out how to handle this better."
Dabi slams his hand against the table. His cuffs give a low warning beep, the fire dancing under his skin being pulled too close to the surface. "You're so full of shit, Endeavor. You really think I'll be convinced you listen? The second I show any moment of weakness you'll swoop in and try to pretend everything's fine and you're such a good dad. Don't try and convince me otherwise."
He watches, vindicated, as Endeavor flails for a moment. The ex-hero's jaw flexes, flames licking at his mouth. He looks like he's about to combust. Dabi waits, eyes alight with glee.
But the fire subsides, Endeavor closes his eyes and breathes. Once, twice, three deep breaths. He clenches his fists and releases. When he opens them, he stares at Dabi with a mournful look.
It pierces into him, making his stomach roil and his eyes spark. He balls his hands into fists, tensing up and preparing to fight.
"Son-" Endeavor starts, and Dabi hisses.
"Stop calling me son. I'm not Touya. Touya will not be near you. Touya will not see or hear from you. He will not interact with you, and you will not with him. Do you understand? If you really wanna try and not be a piece of shit, you'll listen. And we'll fucking see if I'm right." His voice is low, dangerous. A threat underlying. Even without his power, weakened by pain and a dozen meds, he could lurch across the table, rip out Endeavor's jugular with his teeth-
"Okay."
The word slams into him. Dabi blinks, brain stalling.
Endeavor gently laces his fingers together. "I will do my best to not interact with your regress—with Touya. Is there anyone I can send in if needed?"
Dabi pulls at a strand of hair below his ear, trying to stifle the urge to rock himself. "I—I don't—"
It was too much. Too nice. The air felt thick. Like one of them would snap. Maybe it would be him. He tenses his body away, curling up from Endeavor.
"Okay, we can talk about this later. Is that okay? You don't… you don't seem to be in the right headspace to talk about this." Endeavor winces at his own wording as Dabi's eyes flicker towards him.
"I'm fine," he spits. A sigh echoes him, Endeavor running his hand through his own hair. Dabi pulls a leg up on the seat of the wheelchair, tapping fingers against it erratically.
He's not fine. He's already slipping again. The buzz in his skull ebbs closer. He can't even keep it together for a few hours. It's pathetic. He's pathetic.
He can't keep Touya back when they need to live. Maybe he should've never resurrected the brat during the war. Maybe he wouldn't be such a fuck-up right now. But no matter what Dabi does to try and stake him back in his coffin, Touya just can't seem to stay dead.
"Mom can," the words leave his throat in a very Touya voice and he bites his lip immediately after, digging his palm into his temple as he pulls at a chunk of hair.
Endeavor hums. "Can I bring her in now?"
And he—and he wants his mom. Oh fuck, that's a thought that has not existed in years. The bastard really fucked with Touya didn't he? Dabi laughs wetly.
He puts his leg down, smoothing his hands along his pants and fighting against the cotton threatening to take over his brain. "No," he says slowly, clipped. "I can't—take any more coddling." He drags the truth out past his lips, struggling against the urge to clam up and try and punch something.
Touya wants to be coddled. Touya wants both his parents. Touya wants and wants unreachable things until it kills them both.
Dabi will not give him anything if he can help it.
"Okay."
And there it is again. The immediate acceptance. No fighting, no pushing. Just okay. It makes him sick.
It makes Touya feel safe.
"I think dinner is about ready," Endeavor says, slowly standing to make his way back to the kitchen. His face turns back around, looking at Dabi with a soft pitying look. "Would you like to join us or should I send a plate to your room?"
Dabi grits his teeth, rolling his eyes and plastering on the best uncaring mask he can muster. "Don't ask questions you know the answer to." He spins himself around and goes back to his room.
(He ignores the way his chest aches as a Touya-sized knot settles between his lungs and heart.)