💫SPARKY💫

From then on, you two were a pair. The others noticed it immediately — wherever Dabi went, you weren’t far behind, and vice versa. Toga called it “sibling bullying hours.” Twice tried to join in once and got roasted so hard he sulked for three days.

It started simple. Late nights when the League was quiet, you’d sit on opposite ends of a beaten-up couch, passing a stolen pack of cigarettes back and forth.

“He really thinks that press conference made him look good,” you said one night, staring at the TV. “The number one hero, everybody. What a joke.”

Dabi exhaled smoke through his teeth. “Number one asshole, more like. Guy’s out here building a legacy on his kids’ broken bones and acting like he invented fatherhood. Pathetic.”

You snorted. “At least your old man’s consistent. Mine just dipped when things got hard. Yours stuck around to make it worse.”

Dabi glanced at you, something almost like approval in his eyes. “You’re not bad at this. Keep going.”

Weeks turned into months. The more time you spent around Dabi, the sharper your tongue got.

You started matching his sarcasm beat for beat.

During a mission briefing with Shigaraki, when the crusty leader went on another rant about heroes, you leaned toward Dabi and muttered, “Think he practices that speech in the mirror? Bet he does the hand motions too.”

Dabi’s low chuckle was immediate. “Ten bucks says he kisses his own reflection goodnight.”

You grinned. “Twenty says the reflection files a restraining order.”

Shigaraki glared at both of you. “If you two are done with your little comedy routine…”

“Sorry, boss,” Dabi drawled, not sounding sorry at all. “Just bonding. Family time.”

You started copying his mannerisms without realizing it. The lazy slouch. The way he’d flick his wrist when he was bored. Even the dry, deadpan delivery when you insulted someone.

One afternoon, Spinner made the mistake of asking if you were Dabi’s shadow.

You looked him dead in the eye and said, “Better a shadow than whatever the hell that green skin situation is. You lose a fight with a pickle?”

Dabi, who had been half-asleep against the wall, actually laughed out loud — a rare, raspy sound that made the rest of the room stare.

“Kid’s learning,” he said proudly, ruffling your hair with his burned hand. “My influence is impeccable.”

You shoved his hand away but couldn’t hide your smirk. “Don’t get cocky, patchwork. I was always this mean. You just gave me better material.”

The sibling dynamic settled in comfortably. Dabi treated you like a younger sibling he never asked for but refused to let go of. He’d mock you relentlessly but also make sure you ate during long stakeouts. He’d call you “maggot” or “tiny shit” but would burn anyone who tried to say it first.

You gave it right back.

“Oi, walking barbecue,” you said one evening while the two of you were scouting a hero patrol route. “Your staples are looking loose again. Try not to shed on the sidewalk. People might think a scrapyard exploded.”

Dabi smirked, blue flames flickering lazily at his fingertips. “Keep talking and I’ll use your face as kindling. Might improve your looks.”

“Harsh. But fair.”

You walked in comfortable silence for a while before he spoke again, quieter this time.

“You know why I like having you around?”

“Because I laugh at your shitty jokes?”

“Because you get it,” he said. “The rage. The way that flaming bastard ruined everything and still walks around like he’s god’s gift. Most people here are in it for chaos or power. You? You’re in it ‘cause you’re pissed. Same as me.”

You kicked a loose pebble. “Yeah. Well… thanks for not treating me like I’m just some kid tagging along.”

“You stopped being ‘just some kid’ the day you called Endeavor a walking PR disaster with a God complex. Respect.”

The night everything went sideways started like any other.

The League had split up for a coordinated hit on a hero supply warehouse. You and Dabi were paired together — obviously. Everything was going fine until it wasn’t. A surprise hero backup team showed up, including a particularly vicious new sidekick with some kind of binding quirk.

You were handling your section when the sidekick caught you off guard. Thick chains shot out and wrapped around your arms and torso, pinning you against a stack of crates. The hero grinned behind his mask.

“Got one of the brats. Stay down, villain spawn.”

You struggled, heart hammering. “Get fucked—”

Dabi appeared like a ghost in the smoke. His eyes were cold, flames already licking up his arms.

“Let the kid go.”

The hero laughed. “Or what? You’ll burn me? We know all about your patchwork body, Dabi. You can’t keep that up forever.”

Dabi’s expression didn’t change. But you saw the shift — the way his flames burned hotter, bluer. The way his stance changed from casual to predatory.

“You know my name,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Means you know what I’m willing to do. So I’ll say it again. Let. Them. Go.”

When the hero tightened the chains instead, Dabi moved.

Blue flames erupted in a controlled burst — hot enough to melt through the chains without touching you. The hero screamed as fire licked across his shoulder, forcing him to release his hold. You dropped to the ground, coughing.

Dabi stepped between you and the hero, flames roaring higher.

“You made a mistake coming after them,” he said, sassy tone completely gone. This was pure ice. “Touch the kid again and I’ll make sure your ashes spell out ‘should’ve stayed home’ on the pavement.”

The hero tried to lunge. Dabi didn’t hesitate. A concentrated stream of blue fire slammed into the man’s chest, sending him flying back through two shelves. The warehouse groaned around you.

Dabi turned, kneeling down beside you. His hands — surprisingly gentle despite the staples and scars — checked your arms for burns.

“You good?” he asked, voice back to its usual drawl, though tighter than normal.

“Yeah,” you rasped, sitting up. “Bastard got the drop on me.”

“Told you to watch your left side, dumbass.” He helped you stand, one arm slung around your shoulders. “Can’t have you dying on me. Who else is gonna help me shit on Endeavor’s legacy?”

You leaned into him, adrenaline still buzzing. “Pretty sure I’d haunt you just to keep doing that.”

He huffed a laugh. “Good. I’d expect nothing less from my annoying little shadow.”

The rest of the League extracted without much more trouble. Back at the hideout, Dabi stuck closer than usual. He tossed you a water bottle and sat across from you while you drank.

“You handled yourself decently,” he said after a while. “Before the chains. Your insults are getting better too.”

You smirked, already slipping back into the rhythm. “Learned from the best. Though next time maybe don’t wait so long to play hero. I almost became a shish kebab.”

Dabi’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Please. You’d make a terrible kebab. Too much attitude, not enough seasoning.”

“Asshole.”

“Brat.”

The silence that followed was comfortable. You watched him pick at one of his staples absentmindedly.

“Hey, Dabi?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks. For the save. And… for everything else.”

He waved a hand dismissively, but his expression softened just a fraction. “Don’t get sappy on me. We’re villains, not some Hallmark bullshit. But yeah… I’ve got your back. Always. Can’t have my favorite shit-talking partner getting taken out by some low-tier extra.”

You grinned. “Favorite, huh?”

“Don’t push it.”

But you both knew it was true. The bond had thickened into something solid — not blood, but better. Two burned souls who found each other in the ashes of the same hatred.

And as long as Endeavor existed, you’d keep roasting him together. Side by side. Sibling venom and all.

✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚୨ৎ

A/N: ouuu shiii 👀

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