As soon as Dabi left the room, Izuku released an airy breath of relief that he'd been holding ever since their early morning conversation.

It had been an in-the-moment decision, not telling Dabi about his new training regimen, and he was only vaguely sure why he was keeping it from him in the first place. He simply hadn't liked the idea of saying that he'd been working out. For some reason.

Whatever the cause was, it was making him feel jittery and tingly. He wanted nothing more at the moment than to jump up and down and shout, but he was also so sore that his limbs would protest from the strain. They were already heavy and leadlike; rubbing circles into the painful areas was only a small solace to the aching.

Even still, the desire to be moving was as active as a beehive in his brain. Motivation playing at his very fingertips.

Izuku thought that this was probably because he was excited to get back to training so that he could get big and strong, but he knew there was more to it.

He knew where the guilt was coming from.

Izuku had never lied to Dabi before.

Not completely, and not about something this important. White lies, somehow, were even less common with Dabi than with his Mom. He'd never been able to actually lie to her, especially after she started being so, so nice to him and Izuku was beginning to become sharp enough to really see it.

Small, insignificant lies, however, lined almost every one of their conversations. If he told his mom how he was actually doing, and when he'd gone to bed, she would have been too worried.

He already felt bad enough, she was trying so hard and was being so caring and Izuku was just, Izuku, and he knew that she deserved better. It wasn't fair to her to have to be stuck with him. She wasn't like his schoolmates, she couldn't leave no matter what.

That being said, Izuku was realizing now that although he never kept anything important from his mom, he never gave her the full truth.

Lies that Izuku felt that were fairly small spread from ones he deemed necessary, to completely unneeded fibs that he peppered in.

She'd ask him what he'd eaten for lunch, and he'd tell her he ate something he didn't.

She'd question where he put his markers, and he'd say he didn't know, even when he did.

He wasn't sure where these lies had come from or why he'd made them, but they were constant and equally harmless. Maybe if he hadn't have lied so much, things would have been different. If he'd been, y'know, better, then she'd be with him.

The pit in his chest thrummed.

Izuku rubbed his eyes. There were no tears, but it helped, somehow.

Anyway, yeah, Izuku found that he almost never lied to Dabi about anything. Which he didn't understand, because it wasn't like he trusted him more than he'd trusted his mom, right?

…..Right?

No, Izuku didn't think so. He knew that he really did trust Dabi but he'd only known him for—well Izuku didn't know how long it had been, but he'd (obviously) known his mom his entire life. She, she was his mom. Nothing could ever come closer than that, and Izuku knew that Dabi was trying really hard and he appreciated it so much but—

But he wasn't Izuku's Mom.

Nobody ever would be again.

Dabi met different marks though. Everything seemed to be open between them, and Dabi made Izuku feel safe. Which was also weird, because never in Izuku's life had he been less safe than he was now, but the comfort still stayed. It was probably due to Dabi's Quirk, which gave off a very strong and fierce aura, while at the same time warm and protective. What else could it be?

Izuku was Quirkless, so he'd never been able to defend himself. His mother's moral support was comforting, but it had never been there to physically protect him from his classmates and their shoves and kicks. Dabi was strong though, and Izuku knew that he would never let anybody lay a finger on him.

Hah, of course right when Izuku stopped attending school was when he actually had the protection he'd always craved, the brother he'd always needed—

Wait….

Brother?

Izuku mentally backtracked, stopping his hands from the fidgeting he didn't even know he was doing.

He...yeah, Dabi kinda was Izuku's brother. Not actually, they weren't really related, but it somehow mattered less than he'd thought it would. This entire time, Izuku had been trying to compare Dabi to his Mom. That...that was impossible, that was obviously impossible but—but 'brother' fit surprisingly well. It felt right.

Izuku's face heated involuntarily. He'd never actually be able to call Dabi his brother though, duh. Even the thought of referring to Dabi as such a word made Izuku become flustered and sheepish. The label would stay in Izuku's mind to make things less confusing for himself, but he never had to usher it out loud. That would be dumb.

A quick head shake did well to rid his nerves from imagining embarrassing scenarios where Izuku called Dabi brother, as he got himself back on track.

Okay, what had he been thinking about again? Lying? Yes. Lying. That was what had started his dive into labels.

The topic change turned his blushing into the previous jitteries as his legs kicked back and forth at the edge of the couch.

He'd always been one to stick closely to the rules (his mother said they were there for a reason) but now he was starting to grasp why kids like Kacchan always seemed to be okay with—or even enjoy—breaking them.

Izuku wondered if he should start his daily top-secret workout now or wait till later. He shrugged a bit to himself (it wasn't like he had anything better to do) and decided to get started, pulling his regimen out from between sketchbook pages where he'd stashed it.

Dabi didn't seem to notice, or at least remark, on the furniture being moved, so he shoved over the coffee table a bit and went to work.

Izuku began with pushups, his arms being somehow the least sore of his limbs. His initial plan had been to do 30, but after two segments of five he was already shaking like a leaf, and had to break his small segments into even smaller ones.

Frustrated that he couldn't even get a third of the way through his goal, he pressed forward onto sit-ups, which were equally, if not more hard, which only made Izuku's irritation and disappointment grow. Moving on to the easier sets, such as squats and jumping jacks, Izuku decided that maybe he'd set his goals too high. The soreness was really killing him, making his muscles strain to tense and untense. He also needed to find a way to get his legs in shape, because the few times he'd run around the room definitely hadn't been enough judging by the lack of tenderness.

Izuku trained his eyes on the opening leading off to the opening off the subway. Maybe…..

No—Izuku couldn't do that. Dabi had been very, very clear about the rules so far, and although it was a bit hypocritical to be a rule-following advocate when he was literally in the process of breaking rules, leaving the subway felt too extreme.

It had gone terribly last time, and that was months ago now (probably). Izuku wasn't stupid; he saw that Dabi had looked really sad and scared. He'd also been looking for him outside in the night air for a while, since Izuku felt him shaking lightly against him when they hugged (weird, since he thought Dabi had told him he couldn't get cold).

He didn't want to see Dabi, someone who seemed unbreakable and courageous, afraid like that again. Didn't want someone to hurt just because they cared about him (which always, always happened). It stung to even remember, so doing it again was a bad idea.

Plus, they trusted each other. Or, at least, Izuku trusted Dabi. Breaking that trust was definitely was a step too far, no matter how much Izuku craved to do some long-distance running.

He settled for running around the room until his upper legs and, weirdly, shoulders, started protesting at the strain, and he took a sit down on the floor, tasting salt in his mouth.

Working out proved to be easier written than done, just barely finishing 15 sit ups, thighs now throbbing after only 25 squats, he had to sit down before going into his second round of jumping jacks. He checked his clock; still another hour until Dabi got back. Izuku groaned.

These were supposed to be easy, simple exercises and he was barely going through the motions, already completely spent. He wanted to go outside, because that could certainly solve some of his issues, give him some fresh air at least and Dabi would never actually need to know as long as he got back in time—But no, no. Bad idea, remember? It wasn't worth it. He had to keep that in mind.

Izuku tried to ignore the voice in his head telling him that he needed to continue, that he needed to get stronger so that he didn't have to be weak and useless anymore. The voice sounded suspiciously like Kacchan, and hit just as hard. The accusations had a tough bite laced inside them, and minutes later they had Izuku thunking down on the bed like an ikea bag full of bones, no more motivation, only the pull of gravity weighing him down.

"'m sure I'll wake up n'clean up b'fore Dabi gets home," was the last thing he slurred out before his eyelids closed and he knew no more.

Dabi saluted to the grocery store clerk sarcastically as he waltzed his way out of the store, adjusting the reusable bag he'd bought so that it rested on his shoulder (save the turtles, or whatever). The generous wad of yen Chad had pressed into his hand after dealing with the devil herself had been put to good use, and Dabi had decided to put it towards healthy food that wasn't takeout for once. A real shocker, he knew, but it definitely wasn't responsible parenting (fuck, still weird) pumping your kid full of chemicals and chips.

He hadn't really planned ahead upon entering the place though, so he'd left with a bag of those baby carrots, snap peas, and grapes. And, of course, no way to store any of them. Fuck.

Whatever, he could just stuff Izuku full of nutrients right away. If they could both finish them in one or two days, it'd probably be fine (unless the grapes magically turned into wine overnight, which sounded crazy, but what did Dabi know about the fine art of alcohol?).

Dabi had also taken his time out to restock on paper towels and toilet paper, which jesus christ went by fast.

Next big item on the ever growing list: minifridge. If possible, one that magically ran on batteries. Oh, and while he was at it, make it teleport into the subway station right under the Christmas tree next to the winning lottery ticket and puppy. The world owed him and the kid that much and more.

He caught a quick glance at himself as he passed by a storefront window, before looking away and unconsciously ghosting his hand over his light pink skin. The words of the Karen rang fresh in his mind, and even though the last thing he should be doing is getting moody about what some idiot has to say about him—

You know, I wasn't going to say anything, but this employee you have here should really cover up, cover up those things he has all over his face and arms!Yeah, he couldn't help it. Shit stung.

He's actually able to...forget, about how he looks for a while, when he's with Izuku. Back at the place he grew up in, that was an impossible feat. There were daily reminders of his mistake, may it be through sparring, harsh jabs, or disgusted glares.

Izuku gave him none of that.

He had no judgment or prejudice against him for it, not even an ounce of pity since the lie Dabi had spun. He knew the kid's reaction would likely change if he knew the whole story (he would definitely think less of him then), but when it came down to it, Izuku was a light in the dark. A positive in his long history of negatives. Dabi had dug the hole too deep now. He didn't know what he would do if something happened to the little shit.

He didn't want to think about it.

There was also something else Dabi had seen when he looked at his reflection, something besides old memories and pain.

And call him stupid for having such a thing pop up into his head but Dabi...actually looked like an adult, with his grocery bag and turtle-neck. Given, he wasn't one yet, but—

Wait. Actually—Dabi glanced at his phone. It was October 7th. His birthday had been over a month ago. Dabi, he was eighteen now. A full fledged legal adult. Not that being legal had ever stopped him before but damn, that felt weird. Didn't really change anything at all, but just the symbolization of what it meant, the title, was strange.

An adult.

It both fit too well and not at all. He hadn't felt like a kid for a while, but he definitely didn't feel like he had the responsibility and maturity that being an adult required. Not even close.

Whatever, doesn't really matter anyway, so there's no reason to dwell. Plus, Dabi had surpassed the social time limit for how long you're supposed to stare at yourself in the reflection for anyway. He went on his way after readjusting the straps again, and made it back in record time, even with the food stop.

"Kid, you would not believe the day I've had," Walking through their 'front door' Dabi expected Izuku to be idling around, drawing, or fiddling with something, but what he didn't expect was to see the kid passed out face first on their futon. He should have expected it, with how early they'd gotten up earlier, but somehow he hadn't. Hm.

He paused for a second, a little worried because there is no way that position was comfortable, and shuffled over after setting down the groceries.

"Hey, I'm back. Don't go peacing out on me, you gotta eat bud,"

Dabi's concern grew after he nudged him and he still didn't even get a mumble. Luckily, jostling his shoulder a little more harshly did the trick. Izuku rolled over, grumbling low protests of being woken up, and buried his head deeper into the couch stubbornly.

Not a moment later though, he practically reeled as he sat up abruptly and blinked at Dabi through his sleepiness, eyes wide despite the sheen of coming into consciousness.

Dabi put his arms up in mock surrender, reasonably a little alarmed.

The kid murmured a mix between a 'huh' and an 'ah', sounding startled and surprised of all things, before sitting up completely and rubbing at his eye with the palm of his hand.

"Sorry, didn't realize you'd be home so soon..." Tiredness shone through his voice when he mumbled his excuse, and Dabi felt guilt taking over his growing suspicion.

He wished he could let him go to bed early and sleep in till noon (at the very least the kid deserved proper rest), but he had to eat throughout the day. And, sadly, one needed to be awake to eat, and they couldn't afford him taking fewer hours to get back earlier.

They needed the money, every scrap of it, if they wanted to keep on at it the way that they were. Even so, their current position was hardly sustainable. They couldn't live in the subway forever.

But that was another worry for another day.

Dabi raised an eyebrow, "It's about that time, yeah," he sauntered back into the area dubbed their kitchen and unpacked the food, "Speaking of, I got some actual food but we gotta eat it before it goes bad, so come on let's chow down."

Izuku hummed in acknowledgment as Dabi grabbed two disposable plates and spread a decent amount of the produce on them, finishing them off with a granola bar each (for the record, Dabi didn't like granola bars, but he could deal in the name of setting a good example).

He, however, couldn't stand it when grapes got all soft when thawed and didn't have any surface tension, so he figured they could eat those first. He put a plentiful heaping of them that took up most of the space, green and purple alike.

After grabbing the bag he went to go serve them on the coffee table, and saw it was shoved off to the side. He shot Izuku a questioning look but he quickly looked away. Shrugging, he pushed it back and set the fruit and veggie trays out.

Izuku didn't seem bothered by the lack of comfort food and grabbed handfuls of the grapes, promptly and ungracefully shoving them into his mouth with a muffled thank you through his chewing. If Fuyumi was there, Izuku would certainly be getting an earful for 'eating like a chipmunk'. Natsuo might've laughed.

He wondered what they would think if they saw him now. What they would say.

Would they be Proud? Disappointed? Surprised? Definitely surprised. Who would expect him, of all people, to adopt a kid off the streets?

He definitely didn't.

He wondered what his mother would have thought if she knew what he was doing.

He wondered what his father would say.

Dabi swallowed his reminiscence down with chewed up grapes. It was too late for this shit. He bit the middle of a carrot loudly, and tasked himself with crunching it in his mouth until it lost its sound.

Between the two of them, they finished half the bag of grapes before Dabi decided they might want to save some and swapped the remaining berries out for more carrots. Looking around the room, spacial awareness and usual routine told him that a couple of the other pieces of furniture they had was a little misplaced. Only slightly, but noticeable in the blotches devoid of dust on the floor.

"Hey kid, did you decide we needed to reorganize the room or something?" he commented after swallowing a bite of granola.

Izuku tensed up and looked away quickly, "w-well, no. Um. I just, well, wanted a bit more room?" That made Dabi even more confused as he set down his health bar.

Seeing as Izuku wasn't going to elaborate, Dabi leaned forward slightly from his position of sitting next to Izuku to see his face better. "More room for what?"

"Nothing! It's fine now, forget about it." Well, that was reassuring. Dabi wasn't sure what but Izuku was definitely keeping something from him. He had no idea what it had to do with moving furniture, but Dabi knew better than to be an ass and try to pry it from him. Izuku was beginning to trust him more and more, so he wasn't about to run it by hounding him until he confessed. That would just be rude.

"Uh, sure," he said carefully, turning his head away and leaving back into the couch. He kept his gaze of Izuku through the corner of his eye, "If something's up, don't be afraid to tell me okay? I won't judge, unless it's like, really weird, but I'm sure we can work around whatever it is. I got your back,"

Izuku finally made eye contact, and Dabi thought he saw something like guilt before it was concealed by a small smile. "Yeah, of course. Thanks Dabi."