Work Text:
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy fucking shit !” Keigo ran through the empty streets of the city, the ominous footsteps thumping heavily in time with his heart. His backpack jostled on his back irritating the medical tape underneath his shirt.
He rounded a corner at an intersection and faced another wave of Cryptics. They immediately clocked him and started speed walking towards him. Keigo groaned and turned, running the other way quickly glancing at where he’d come from to see the Cryptics closing in on him.
They weren’t fast, per se. Not all of them, at least. But they could walk fast enough and their gross appearance was enough to psych people out. Keigo had actually come across some that had unusual speed which was fucking terrifying. But he’s always been fast. Fast runner, fast reflexes, fast mind.
Rumi says he’s too fast for his own good, though Keigo can’t find the issue in a situation like this.
Fuck, Rumi.
He had no idea where she’d gone. They were walking down the street one minute and the next, a crowd of Cryptics were chasing them. They split up to get away easier but now…
Their last rendezvous point is at least a day’s worth of walking.
Keigo shook the thoughts from his head, feeling at his waistband for his gun. It wasn’t anything fancy but it’d have to do.
‘I told you to bring more weapons.’ God, he can already hear Rumi scolding him.
He turned quickly to blindly aim the gun and fire. The bang of the bullet shooting out of the barrel made his ears ring, but he kept shooting. He heard the telling sound of the bullets tearing through flesh, but kept his eyes forward.
He found another intersection, readying himself to change his course when he saw a foot step out behind the wall. Keigo held his breath, readying his gun. He saw a marred purple arm and didn’t think twice when aiming his gun and shooting.
“Fuck!”
Keigo stopped so abruptly, he nearly tripped. His eyes widened when he saw a man kneeling on the floor, clutching at his shoulder.
“Holy shit! Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Keigo ran up to the man and crouched down beside him.
“Fuck’s wrong with you?!” The guy shouted, pinning Keigo with an icy blue gaze.
“I’m sorry! I thought you were-”
“Yeah, yeah. A Cryp. Not the first fucking time,” the other spoke with a raspy voice, but wheezed as his shoulder was jostled.
Keigo looked back at where all the Cryptics were, and cursed under his breath as they closed in on them.
“Sorry man, this is gonna hurt.” The guy looked at him confused, then winced in pain as Keigo took his uninjured arm and slung it over his own shoulders. He surveyed the street for a second, darting towards what was once an apartment complex.
The man grunted in pain each step they took to the top but didn’t protest. Thankfully, it was sunset, lighting up the place with enough light for Keigo to see where he was going. The building wasn’t too tall. It seemed to be a quadruplex and soon enough, they made it to the roof.
Keigo kicked the door open, taking the weight of the door slamming back into his shoulder. He set the guy down next to the doorway and leaned his own weight on the door. He was out of breath, but couldn’t rest easy just yet.
He left the guy on the ground and walked around the roof, quickly checking every small crevice that a Cryptic might hide. When he deemed it safe enough, he jogged back over to where the man was.
The guy was leaning his head back against the wall, showing off the column of a heavily scarred neck. The scarring went up to his chin and the corners of his mouth, stretching up to his ears. His under eyes were just as damaged. The purple skin seemed to be all over the guy, his arms were completely covered, stopping just a little after his wrists. The healthy and marred skin were held together by medical staples. Keigo couldn’t help but grimace at the pain the guy must have gone through to end up like that.
The stranger shivered and immediately flinched, hand shooting up to put pressure on the wound. The blood was spreading fast.
Keigo crouched at his side, pulling his backpack off and rummaging through. He grabbed a roll of old bandages, the edges folded and rough, and some disinfectant wipes that are mostly dry. It’d have to do. He grabbed the hem of the guy’s shirt, lifting it up a bit until his hand was slapped away.
“The fuck are you doing?” The stranger sneered, pulling at the staples at the corners of his mouth.
“I have to take a look at the wound,” Keigo said, impatiently tugging at the shirt.
“Like fuck you are. I’m fine,” the guy looked away, his top lip curling up.
“Dude, c’mon. It’s my fault you got shot, lemme patch you up,” Keigo pulled harder for emphasis. The guy sighed and mumbled, “whatever.”
Keigo pulled the shirt up, realizing he couldn’t get it over the man’s shoulder without hurting him. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. He stabbed a hole into the fabric, careful to avoid any skin.
“This is my only shirt, dickhead!” The guy yelled but winced when he tried to move away.
Keigo rolled his eyes, “I can’t look at it if I don’t cut it off. Chill man, I’ll give you mine.”
The guy banged his head on the brick wall but stayed quiet. Keigo stuck his fingers into the hole of the fabric and ripped the shirt open as carefully as he could. He murmured apologies when he accidentally brushed the tips of his fingers over the wound. He finally got the shirt open and slid it off the guy’s arms as carefully as he could manage. Keigo eyed the man’s toned stomach, gazing over the scarring that seemed to go all around the person’s torso and over his shoulders for a mere second before he focused on the literal hole in the guy’s shoulder. It was just at the edge of his scarred skin. Blood gushed from the wound, spilling down the guy’s arms and chest.
Keigo inspected the wound closely. “I’m gonna have to get the bullet out. Here, bite on this,” he sat back on his heels and put the ruined shirt in front of the guy’s mouth.
“I’ll do it myself,” the stranger snatched the shirt and shoved it into his mouth. He didn’t even hesitate to dig his finger into the hole. There was a horrible squelching sound as the guy poked into his own shoulder. He didn’t scream, the only indicator that he even felt anything is the occasional grunt and the way his face twisted. Keigo could do nothing but watch, mildly impressed and entirely horrified.
The guy took his finger out, causing the bloody bullet to drop to the ground. He spit the shirt out of his mouth and leaned back with a groan. He looked at a stunned Keigo and gestured to his shoulder, “well? Get on with it.”
Keigo shook his head and grabbed the wipes. He brought it up to the wound and wiped at it. “So what’s your code?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the wipe. It was already covered in blood.
“Why should I tell you?” the guy sneered, grunting when Keigo accidentally applied too much pressure.
“Because I’m cleaning your gunshot wound and could very well just leave you here, shirtless and without supplies or anything to stop the bleeding,” he emphasized his statement with a harsh swipe over the hole.
The guy grit his teeth, “Dabi.”
“Great! I’m Hawks,” he beamed, like he didn’t just threaten the guy.
Dabi scoffed, “dumb name.”
“Hey now, I chose it when I was 16!” Keigo defended himself, as he tossed the wipe to Dabi to clean off his finger and picked up the bandages. He helped Dabi lean forward so he could wrap it around Dabi’s shoulder as best he could.
“So did I,” Dabi wheezed when Keigo tightened the bandages too much. Keigo loosened it a bit and kept wrapping the bandage around Dabi’s shoulder and bicep, keeping one of his hands on Dabi’s chest for balance.
Keigo snickered, “I can tell.” He felt more than heard Dabi huff. Dabi’s heart stuttered under his palm when Keigo applied a little more pressure on the last layer of gauze. He helped Dabi lean back against the wall. The man groaned with relief, tilting his neck side to side to crack it. “Christ, dude, you’re gonna break your neck that way,” Keigo took a seat next to Dabi and stretched out his legs.
“Fuck off,” Dabi said, back to his low rasp. Dabi closed his eyes and inhaled.
“You’re awfully calm for someone who got shot,” Keigo pointed out, looking over at his companion.
“Not the first time,” Dabi repeated. “Certainly not the last.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence. It was odd for Keigo to find someone he felt at ease with. The only person he could truly let his guard down around was Rumi. But there have been a few others that he didn’t quite mind the company of. He wonders who this guy is and why he feels so calm around him.
He let his eyes trace over Dabi’s profile. His eyelashes were white, a stark contrast to the black hair. His hair itself was all over the place in spiky tufts, his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat from the setting sun and exertion that came with taking a bullet out of your body. Dabi’s bicep twitched every now and then, as if he wanted to move it but thought better of it. His chest rose and fell calmly, though Keigo could tell he hadn’t fallen asleep. The scars did little to hide the guy’s physique. Keigo let his eyes wander down further, lingering on the dips and ripples in Dabi’s muscles when he’d move his shoulder too much. There was still a drop of blood trailing red between his abs.
Keigo cleared his throat, hauling himself up with a groan. He walked over to the edge of the roof, trying to convince himself the flush on his face was due to sun. He looked down at the streets, not seeing a single Cryptic in sight. The creatures didn’t like to loiter around. They were always on the move, looking to feed.
When he turned back around, Dabi was already looking at him. Keigo’s breath stuttered in his throat when he looked into Dabi’s eyes that shone almost green in the golden light. Keigo took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs as he walked over. “You with anyone?”
Dabi tsk’s, “got separated when Cryps invaded our camp.”
Keigo hums, “yeah, my friend and I were also separated. Not too far from here, but she’s definitely gone by now. You know where you gotta meet up with them?”
“No. Fucking freaks swarmed the only place we had set up,” Dabi sighed defeated. He brought up his uninjured arm and ruffled his hair, fluffing it out.
“C’mon, I’ve got a rendezvous point with Miruko. You can stay with us until you find your friend,” Keigo stood and offered Dabi a hand. The guy squinted up at him from the sun in his eyes and stared for a few seconds before taking the proffered hand. Keigo pulled him up with a grunt on both ends then suddenly remembered his promise. He reached back and grabbed his shirt behind his neck, pulling it over his head. He held it out to Dabi who just raised an eyebrow.
“Told you I’d give you my shirt,” Keigo shrugged. Dabi rolled his eyes but snatched the shirt out of Keigo’s hands. He slowly slid his injured arm into the clothing before pulling it on completely. Dabi smoothed out the fabric then dragged his eyes over Keigo’s naked torso then up his neck. The guy smirked when he reached his face.
Keigo resolutely did not react and side stepped to the door. He stepped into the staircase first, only stopping when he heard a low whistle.
“Nasty scars you got there, Birdie,” Dabi’s voice was much closer than it was before. Goosebumps rose on the back of Keigo’s neck when he suppressed a shiver.
Keigo looked over his shoulder from one step down, looking at Dabi through his eyelashes. “I could say the same to you, Hot Stuff.” He watched as Dabi looked him up and down with that goddamn smirk.
“Lead the way.”
Keigo turned, hopping down the stairs. He bit his lip to stop the smile from growing as he felt a heavy gaze on his back.