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He picks up the night shift out of pure boredom more than anything else. At the moment, the League is doing nothing other than sitting around and going through hair-brained ‘plots’. So it comes as a surprise to him that he somewhat enjoys it. He enjoys the quiet ambiance of Ripper Street Café, where everything is horror-themed, so he fits in here well, his scars, tattoos, and piercings just blending in with the rest of the aesthetic. He finishes off the dark latte with a sprinkle of activated charcoal, placing it on the counter in front of the only customer in there. “So,” He drawls, lazily flicking one of his lip rings with his tongue, “What brings one of the top heroes here at three in the morning?” The man at the counter visibly flinches, gold eyes glinting and blonde hair shining in the low light. “How’d you figure it out?” he whispers, pulling off the bulky overcoat and hat. Dabi smiles at Hawks and smirks “It’s not that good of a disguise, in all honesty.” He laughs. Hawks turns towards him and purses his lips, sucking on the straw in a rather sinful way that makes Dabi’s skin heat up from something other than his quirk.
Dabi plops himself on the counter, swinging his legs over to where he can face Hawks eye to eye. A silence descends upon them, not an uncomfortable or awkward silence, but one filled with thoughts and feelings that only can come in the early hours of the morning. Hawks breaks the silence by brushing his rose-gold locks out of his eyes and shifting his wings around until Dabi can feel them ever-so-lightly brushing his shins “Sometimes, it’s all too much,” He mumbles, staring into his drink as if it will somehow solve all of his problems. “Being a hero now. Because heroes are always supposed to be perfect. They’re supposed to be inhumanly perfect. And when the people’s image of you doesn’t fit who you actually are, people start to talk.” Dabi brushes a knuckle against the feathers brushing his shins “It a weir way, I get it. My dad-,” he coughs, feeling the burning hated that he’s carried within him for years shifting “My dad is a huge piece of shit. I didn’t turn out perfect, so I was thrown away, treated like I was less than human. Like my worth was designated by my quirk.” Hawks eyebrows quirk up at this, and he laughs “It fuckings sucks how normal that is now. My problem is that I ain’t fucking straight and the Commission wants me to be.” Dabi can feel the misery coming off of Hawks right now so he does the only thing he can to comfort the distraught hero and awkwardly pats his head. Dabi has never been good with physical contact and what’s socially acceptable. He’s never been all that good with being social period. But it’s all worth it when golden eyes brimming with tears face his, and he’s greeted with a weak, watery but nonetheless bright smile.
“T-thanks,” Hawks sniffles awkwardly, brushing away his tears with harsh swipes of his hand across his face. Ba-dump , Dabi ironically thinks as his face flushed and he’s right there stammering a “No, problem.” along with the pro-hero himself. How ironic, he thinks, a pro-hero and a villain sitting in a coffeeshop blushing like they’re in a shitty otome. He laughs softly to himself as he hops off the counter and grabs his hat and apron, searching for the notepad and pen he knows he has in there. He hurriedly jots down his phone number on the slip of paper and shoves it into the pro-heroes hands. “Look,” He stammers, lips curling, “I close at four, and I don’t know how many more customers I’ll have, or how long you’re going to stay, but here’s my phone number, just in case you ever want to, uh, talk or some shit.” Hawks smiles at him, not the thousand-watt beam he sees on TV, or in the media, but something a little dimmer, but more honest. “Thank you, uh,-” Dabi chuckles as Hawks eyes flit around him searching for a name tag, for anything. “Touya.” Dabi whispers, voice soft and grating, like he’s praying to some long-forgotten deity instead of telling his supposedly sworn enemy his name. “What?” Hawks asks. Dabi clears his throat “My name is Touya.” He states, swallowing hard.
“Thanks, Touya” Hawks smiles softly. “My name’s Keigo by the way.” They talk for the rest of the hour, coffee being exchanged for tea until Dabi notices that it’s ten after four, and he needs to lock up and leave. Dabi whirls around the counters wiping them. He finishes the process of cleaning and sends a semi-apologetic smile to Keigo. “I’m sorry but it’s after closing time and I have to lock up.” Keigo looks at him and grins, “It’s fine Touya, I understand, a job is a job after all.” Dabi smiles and ushers the blonde out of the coffee shop, closing and locking the door behind them. Keigo slowly lifts his hand up, but then drops back down when he thinks Dabi-no Touya. He’s Touya now, he’s Touya again, he’s only Dabi with the League. He drops his hand when he thinks Touya isn’t looking and just stares up at the night sky, red wings almost glowing in the soft light of the nearby street lamps. Keigo turns back to him a gives him a two-fingered salute, the thousand-watt smile neatly back in place as he takes off. Almost as if it was instinct, Touya lunges for Keigo’s hand and just barely misses it, their fingertips brushing just for a brief millisecond before Keigo is gone, off to be Hawks once more. While Dabi is walking home he thinks that it’s not so bad to be Touya again as long as it’s for him. It isn’t until he’s back at the bar and climbing the stairs to his room that he thinks: Oh fuck, I think I’m falling in love.
It isn’t until almost a week later that Dabi finally gets a message from Keigo. It’s short but it sends a shiver of pleasant warmth up his spine. I’m sorry I hadn’t messaged you sooner, the message reads, I was on a mission. Are you working tonight? I’ll be there if you are. Fucking bird Dabi thinks, heart racing, That fucking bird and his stupid pretty wings, and those killer eyes. Stupid fucking asshole hero and that fucking little smile. Dabi knows that now, it’s too late, that there is no turning back now. He pickles up his phones and types in a short, simple message that doesn’t show his internal screaming. Yeah, he writes, I have the twelve to four shift again. See you then? He adds as an afterthought, his heart racing stupidly fast at the thought of seeing Keigo again. He gets a reply back almost instantaneously from Keigo Awesome! See you in a few, I can’t wait. Are you fucking kidding right now, are you fucking kidding me. WHy. WHY. Why. He screams inside his head as he reads the message, again and again, his heart and stomach deciding to do the conga in his throat. Little does he know that on the other side of the city, Keigo is in the same state he is, ginning and blushing stupidly at the thought of seeing the mysterious, hot barista again. He presses his fingers softly to his lips and imagines that they belong to someone else. Pretends that they belong to Touya.