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“You know,” Dabi idly roams the room, “your hair is really soft after you wash it.” He runs a finger through the older man’s hair as he walks by, noting the way it sends a visible shiver down his spine. He closes his eyes and leans into Dabi’s touch, but it is fleeting.
“Oh, yeah?” Satoru smirks. He leans back on the sofa, titling his head back just to get a glance as Dabi as he paces the room. “You should let me wash yours some time.”
Dabi’s breath hitches, he snickers and pauses a moment.
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”
“Mmm, come on,” Satoru stands, and he hardly has a moment to react before he is inches behind him, towering over him like he always has. “It’ll smell really nice, too.”
“I said it already, I’ll pass,” he grunts, swatting away Satoru’s wandering hands. They inch closer to his face, his damaged hair and scarred skin. He hates it when he does that, despite how badly he craves it.
“You don’t wanna smell like me~?” Satoru hums once more, and he knows his charm is irresistible. It’ll be no time before Dabi-
“No, not really.”
Oh.
Satoru pouts. “Don’t be stubborn. When was the last time you showered?”
“I don’t know,” Dabi frowns, partly offended by such an invasive, somewhat accusing question. “It’s none of your business.” Honestly, he didn’t really know the answer himself. Showering is torture when your body is broken and torn in all the wrong places— when even your soul feels too muffled and tired at the best of times.
“Come on,” Satoru takes him by the wrist, his grip gentle, but far stronger than Dabi’s. He has no choice but to follow. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
“Let me go,” Dabi grunts, but hardly puts up a fight. He knows better than that “…Fucking bastard.”
“You’re a brat, you know that, right?” Satoru chuckles, guiding Dabi to sit down on a chair he’d dragged into their shared bathroom.
“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, taking the seat and slouching like some moody teenager. But when Satoru runs a hand through his knotted hair, his demeanour quickly shifts.
“Good, huh?”
Dabi leans into his touch, tilting his head and allowing Satoru’s long fingers to brush out the gentle knots and pull in the frayed flyaways.
“You’re very endearing when you’re not complaining,” he smirks, pulling out a comb and continuing his work. It’s magic, truly, how he has the man nearly purring beneath him. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?”
“Mm…”
It doesn’t hurt. Not when Satoru is so gentle, not when his hands seem to know Dabi’s skin like it is his own. He touches him like he might break, and hell, right now feels like he just might.
“It’s nice…” He mutters beneath his breath, pouting and hardly audible, but Satoru hears him and smiles. He takes a bottle of his most expensive product and squeezes some in his palm. Dabi recognises the scent. It smells like Satoru fresh out of the shower, a scent he’s come to adore, though he’ll never admit it to him.
“Gonna put this in now, okay?”
“Okay.”
It’s cold, but Satoru’s hands are warmer. He rubs it in with care, careful of the scars of his scalp and careful with his damaged strands of dyed hair.
“You’re sitting so well,” Satoru hums. “Not much longer now. I’ll be finished soon.”
Take your time , he wants to say. He instead says nothing, only blushes at the words of praise against his will. It doesn’t go unnoticed. Satoru looks down at him in the mirror on the wall, his eyes tightly closed, shoulders tense and unscarred skin pink. It’s adorable, he thinks.
Once he’s finished massaging the product in, he stands to prepare the shower. Touya instantly feels cold again, craving his touch like he is starved of it.
But he doesn’t say anything.
“You like it warm, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Dabi chuckles.
“Alright. I’ll leave you to wash that out. Then i’ll put some more product in after. Okay?”
Dabi doesn’t respond, doesn’t stand or move. Satoru’s eyebrows furrow slightly at his reaction, worried that perhaps he’d said the wrong thing, overstepped by forcing him to do this at all.
He hardly expects what Dabi says next, his voice hoarse and croaky and full of some endearing sort of embarrassment.
“Can’t… you stay?”
He’ll be damned before he refuses.