17 - Into the Fire

He walks in holding a hairbrush.

"No-"

He drops onto the bed behind me, his strong legs wrapping around mine, and starts combing my hair immediately, one hand smoothing my hair and the other brushing it. He's gentler, slower, than I usually am, taking the time to tease out the tangles and knots. My eyes close, and I can't stop the sigh that slips out from my lips. I lean back into his warmth and close my eyes, surrendering to the soft strokes of the brush through my hair.

"You know we're supposed to be planning, right?" I point out. Not that I'm going to be able to focus properly with him around. I can feel his smile in the way he speaks without opening my eyes.

"Just a minute, and you'll be done."

I don't have the energy or the will to protest further. After all, there's plenty more time in the day to plan the attack. What's the point of fighting for a society where we won't have to work like this, if we never get to relax?

"We just have to make sure we plan it perfectly."

"And why is that, Chapstick?"

"'Cause I don't want to have to break into Tartarus and get you out if something goes wrong, bastard."

His hands go still in my hair, his powerful body tensing behind me.

"Tomura, breaking into Tartarus is too dangerous. The security system is the best in the world: you'd just end up getting caught too-"

"Then we'd better plan it properly the first time. I wouldn't leave you there."

I open my eyes and swallow in the sudden silence. Did I go too far, reveal too much? Dabi drops the hairbrush onto the table with a thunk. His voice is hoarse and disbelieving, sending ragged adrenaline pounding in my heart and through my blood.

"You would do that for me?"

"We're all going to hell anyway," I whisper. "Why shouldn't I do it for you?"

When I turn around to face him, his blue eyes are dark with emotion. I adjust my position so that I don't have to twist my neck to look at him, and then I notice his hand shaking slightly. Acting on instinct, I slide my fingers through his and squeeze his hand gently. I keep looking at our interlaced fingers because it's easier than looking at his face and feeling my shaking heart explode. Then I feel his warm fingers under my chin, lifting my gaze forcibly to meet his.

"I would walk into hell for you," he whispers, and I can't hold myself back any longer. I don't know if it's right, or wrong, or if I'll regret this in the days and months to come. But I can't stop it any more than I can stop a tsunami.

I lean forward and press my lips against his.

For a moment, everything is still. I start to worry, to wonder if I misread the signs, if I was wrong about what I thought was happening. I start to move away-

Then his hand curls around the back of my neck, and he pulls me close to him, kissing me with a passion so fierce that my whole body explodes with it and I let everything go to hell. I face life-or-death situations every other day. I kill people all the time. But this, this rush of adrenaline, this rush of heat in my blood and bones, is stronger and more terrifying than anything I've ever felt before.

His tongue lightly traces my lips, sending a shudder through me that forces my back to arch with the overwhelming power of this feeling. My fingers dig into his back, feeling the strength of the muscles there, and Dabi groans into my mouth. I'm leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire, but I'm too lost in the blaze to care. I take his hand, and I let him lead me into the roaring heart of the flames. I would walk into hell for you. His lips press against the scar on my mouth and my arms tighten on his back. In a lightning-quick movement, he flips us so that I'm lying on my back, staring up at him, and then his head dips low and his mouth presses against my neck. I would walk into the fire for you. His teeth nip lightly at my skin, and the hand in my hair tightens into a fist. I grip bunches of his shirt in my hands-

Ash rains down. Dabi looks up, fire burning in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Accidental, right?" he asks playfully, cocking an eyebrow. My whole face burns bright red as I realise exactly how muscular he is underneath the shirt I just disintegrated. My mouth opens and closes, but for once I don't have any clever answers to give him.

"You wish it wasn't," I whisper. Dabi's eyes darken.

"We'll see who's wishing for something in a minute," he breathes huskily, and our mouths meet again in a rush of fire and urgency.