[he's sometimes wondered if, in his excuse to be a semi-decent parent, endeavor's given fuyumi, natsuo, and shouto unlimited credit cards. it seems likely, considering he can just throw money at his kids to make them go away. well, shouto being the exception. but he's not about to ask, preferring to leave that for stewing on later.
there's a part of him that's amused at endeavor's failure to deal with this new strangeness of showering with him. for dabi's, it's not a problem at all; he's so disassociated from his father the man might as well be a stranger when he needs him to be. years of pretending they weren't related and lying about it whenever the topic came up in his presence has made it second-nature for him to compartmentalize his thoughts and emotions when it comes to his family. unable to forget any of it, though his hatred's transformed all those memories into fuel for his insanity. he's got that going for him.]
How the fuck do you do it "right"? [doesn't stop him from growling at him like a petulant teenager getting told he needs to fix something.] It's washing hair.
[if endeavor's joking, it's still getting a rise out of the eldest from his brood. you put your hand in your hair with soap on it and rub it around back and forth. maybe in circles if you wanna be fancy about that shit. dabi doesn't treat it any differently than shoving his head under a spigot on a hot day.
the soap at least is helping the stapled areas of his skin. he does have to treat them when he has time and supplies to do that; otherwise he'd be walking around with infections all over. it's a price to pay for his chosen method of handling his injuries.
hair styling is part of it? even if that spiky bunch atop his head is mostly natural and only helped with the occasional choppy cut to keep it from getting long. no, he's not gonna say who cuts his hair. the magician. it's when he suddenly gets a meaty arm wrapped around his waist from behind that he tugs his head up, slapping water across enji's face from the sudden pull.]
The fuck-?!
[well he tries to move away? but ends up "oof" against the bar across his stomach and now there's a hand on his head getting behind his ears. dabi makes a face at the wall across from him, feeling very uncomfortably like some damn cat getting groomed or something. if he knew it would actually do something, he'd stomp on his stupid foot. that massive hand over his stomach's good enough to keep him there, abs hardening under his scarred swatch across his belly and the sweep of healthy skin below it.
and now he's starting to remember other reasons why he hated the man. micromanaging perfectionist with an overbearing "my way" attitude on how shit gets done. that question is enough to get another hell's cat glare over his shoulders, this time eyes actually burning and a few whorls of blue flame sparking into existence around his head.]
Ya got your fucking bear paw pinned at my waist and ya gonna talk bout "my" way?
[but it's when the man suddenly pulls back, not hard enough to jerk him, but enough to make him take a step or two backwards. flesh presses up against his back and he tenses, unconsciously rising on his toes as his eyes widen from the sensation. this is definitely not the first male body he's felt against his back and it's not the first time he's been grabbed and held like this either.
but this is endeavor and for all his damn compartmentalization, his brain is racing with a host of warnings and screamings. too close, too controlled, too fast, to angry. slamming that urge into a high gear that's reserved for certain fight or flight situations. enji's hot against his skin, body only good with resisting the cold and now almost sizzling with the heat. (or that's his flames.) smothering him? what he fucking wanted?! he feels his flesh crawl beneath the hero's hand as it wanders up his stomach and cups at his chest, heart slamming beneath his ribs in a manner he can't tell between panic or excitement.
then a face settles right into his hair and something snaps inside him. the tension seems to melt and his expression slides back into the normal stoic expression as his flames vanish with a husk of air. just in time for his fingers to come up and wander across the side of enji's face, almost spider-like as their tips step from the angle of his chin to the span of his cheek and the taut of his temple.]
If ya really wanna smother me, I should be the one against the wall, endeavor.
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Date: 12/6/21 23:49 (UTC)[he's sometimes wondered if, in his excuse to be a semi-decent parent, endeavor's given fuyumi, natsuo, and shouto unlimited credit cards. it seems likely, considering he can just throw money at his kids to make them go away. well, shouto being the exception. but he's not about to ask, preferring to leave that for stewing on later.
there's a part of him that's amused at endeavor's failure to deal with this new strangeness of showering with him. for dabi's, it's not a problem at all; he's so disassociated from his father the man might as well be a stranger when he needs him to be. years of pretending they weren't related and lying about it whenever the topic came up in his presence has made it second-nature for him to compartmentalize his thoughts and emotions when it comes to his family. unable to forget any of it, though his hatred's transformed all those memories into fuel for his insanity. he's got that going for him.]
How the fuck do you do it "right"? [doesn't stop him from growling at him like a petulant teenager getting told he needs to fix something.] It's washing hair.
[if endeavor's joking, it's still getting a rise out of the eldest from his brood. you put your hand in your hair with soap on it and rub it around back and forth. maybe in circles if you wanna be fancy about that shit. dabi doesn't treat it any differently than shoving his head under a spigot on a hot day.
the soap at least is helping the stapled areas of his skin. he does have to treat them when he has time and supplies to do that; otherwise he'd be walking around with infections all over. it's a price to pay for his chosen method of handling his injuries.
hair styling is part of it? even if that spiky bunch atop his head is mostly natural and only helped with the occasional choppy cut to keep it from getting long. no, he's not gonna say who cuts his hair.
the magician.it's when he suddenly gets a meaty arm wrapped around his waist from behind that he tugs his head up, slapping water across enji's face from the sudden pull.]The fuck-?!
[well he tries to move away? but ends up "oof" against the bar across his stomach and now there's a hand on his head getting behind his ears. dabi makes a face at the wall across from him, feeling very uncomfortably like some damn cat getting groomed or something. if he knew it would actually do something, he'd stomp on his stupid foot. that massive hand over his stomach's good enough to keep him there, abs hardening under his scarred swatch across his belly and the sweep of healthy skin below it.
and now he's starting to remember other reasons why he hated the man. micromanaging perfectionist with an overbearing "my way" attitude on how shit gets done. that question is enough to get another hell's cat glare over his shoulders, this time eyes actually burning and a few whorls of blue flame sparking into existence around his head.]
Ya got your fucking bear paw pinned at my waist and ya gonna talk bout "my" way?
[but it's when the man suddenly pulls back, not hard enough to jerk him, but enough to make him take a step or two backwards. flesh presses up against his back and he tenses, unconsciously rising on his toes as his eyes widen from the sensation. this is definitely not the first male body he's felt against his back and it's not the first time he's been grabbed and held like this either.
but this is endeavor and for all his damn compartmentalization, his brain is racing with a host of warnings and screamings. too close, too controlled, too fast, to angry. slamming that urge into a high gear that's reserved for certain fight or flight situations. enji's hot against his skin, body only good with resisting the cold and now almost sizzling with the heat. (or that's his flames.) smothering him? what he fucking wanted?! he feels his flesh crawl beneath the hero's hand as it wanders up his stomach and cups at his chest, heart slamming beneath his ribs in a manner he can't tell between panic or excitement.
then a face settles right into his hair and something snaps inside him. the tension seems to melt and his expression slides back into the normal stoic expression as his flames vanish with a husk of air. just in time for his fingers to come up and wander across the side of enji's face, almost spider-like as their tips step from the angle of his chin to the span of his cheek and the taut of his temple.]
If ya really wanna smother me, I should be the one against the wall, endeavor.