Chapter Text
When Hawks said he would do anything to get into the league, he never really imagined they’d have him getting recruits. He had assumed that they’d keep him in the shadows until absolutely necessary. Going to a villain meeting and seeing the number two hero would very much not fly well with most people.
Case in point, he and Dabi were meant to recruit this guy with an interesting quirk that could probably serve the villains some good. Hawks hadn’t been privy to the details but he supposes there’s no use dwelling on why now.
Not when he feels the weight on his back missing. Not when he feels an odd, underlying heat beneath his skin. And definitely not when he looks over at Dabi and sees two big red wings behind him.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the thug they were meeting run out of the warehouse and normally, he’d be on top of that, pinning the guy down in seconds. But now, he feels too dizzy from the effects of the quirk and with the lack of his feathers, there’s not much Hawks can really do.
He stares at Dabi, jaw dropped and eyes wide as the villain stumbles backwards from the weight of his new wings. Dabi catches himself, leaning forward to avoid falling again and looks at Hawks like he is the one that did this.
“What the fuck did you do?” Dabi glares.
Hawks’ lips curl up in annoyance. “Me? I didn’t do anything!”
“Guy ran out of here before we could even speak to him, you send him a warning?” Dabi nods at him in his accusation.
“Maybe, maybe, it’s because you guys decided it’d be a good idea for the number two hero to show up in place of one of the other villains! No kidding he hightailed it out of here, he probably thought I was here to capture him,” Hawks crosses his arms. His skin feels hot, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple.
Not having his wings on his back is an odd feeling. He suddenly feels naked as a breeze wisps in from the open ceiling and hits his bare skin where his wing slits are. He never had any pain or physical issues with his wings. They were a part of him, his body was made for them. But now he feels… lighter.
Dabi clicks his tongue, ignoring him and shaking his head and looking back at his new appendages. “This fucking blows.”
“What are the details of the guy's quirk?” Hawks asks, still a little ticked off. Clearly, Dabi’s got two new appendages sticking out of him. But why is Hawks quirkless all of a sudden?
He wonders how the League of Villains has managed to stay afloat this long if they really didn’t see an issue with the situation.
“Why should I tell you?” Dabi grumbles.
“I’m missing two of my limbs, I think I’m well within my right to know why that is,” Hawks can feel irritation flare up inside him, accompanied by another wave of heat.
Hawks has always enjoyed the warmth, not being built for the cold. But something about this heat coursing through him is different. He doesn’t feel cozy, in fact, it’s kind of starting to become just a bit too uncomfortable.
Dabi doesn’t say anything which really isn’t helping. Hawks is sweating more and more with each passing second and he’s half convinced he’s about to burst into flames-
Ah.
Realization dawns on him, his arms falling to his sides and his features morphing from anger to unimpressed.
“A quirk that switches quirks.”
Dabi purses his lips, looking away and scratching the back of his head.
Hawks takes in a deep breath, putting his head in his hands and groaning. He drops his hands, walking up to Dabi as calmly as he can possibly muster in this situation and standing face to face with the villain.
His hand comes up, smacking the side of Dabi’s head and just like that, the heat comes back full force. Dabi squawks, shrinking into himself. “Are you fucking stupid?! Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Watch it, birdbrain,” Dabi grabs Hawks’ collar, pulling him close until they’re nose-to-nose. “Know your fucking place or I’ll-”
“What? You’ll cremate me? You can’t really do that, now can you?” Hawks narrows his eyes at him challengingly. He holds onto Dabi’s wrist and for once, the steam is not coming from the villain.
Hawks’ palm is bordering on painful, the fire in his body making its way to the surface and the smell of his leather gloves burning wafting through the air between them.
Dabi studies him before he grits his teeth, showing Hawks his newfound canines before shoving Hawks away. “Whatever. Let’s fucking go.”
Hawks sighs, trying to quell the literal flames he has in him. He knows fire is an unpredictable element, that it’s uncontrollable once it gets going. But being the source of it would make him think it’d be easier to keep it at bay.
Dabi turns, hitting Hawks right in the face with red plumage. Hawks sputters, smacking at the feathers. “Geez, watch it, man.”
The man pays him no mind, walking away with a hunched over back. Hawks pauses, staring down at his hand. His glove is hot to the touch and he can feel the material rubbing against his smarting palm making him grimace. He runs his tongue along his teeth, noticing how dull his own canines are now.
He follows Dabi, feeling unbalanced and taking careful steps like he’s re-learning how to walk again. Everything feels so weird. He can’t feel the constant vibrations of the world around him, doesn’t have any defence whatsoever. He’s entirely vulnerable and while he’s sure he can blast any threats coming his way, Hawks isn’t sure he’d be able to put the fire out.
Hawks makes his way outside to see Dabi waiting for him, turning his hand and looking at the sharp talons that replace his nails. Hawks looks around at the abandoned area and chuckles awkwardly.
“Hey Dabs?”
“What?” Dabi snaps.
“So y’know how I flew us here?” He asks, threading his fingers together and rocking on his heels.
Dabi blinks at him before groaning. “Fuck.”
Hawks sighs, pulling out his phone to search up directions. “You ever taken the train before? ‘Cause I sure haven’t.”
“How have you never taken the train before?” Dabi asks, coming up beside him and looking over his shoulder. Hawks feels his skin warm up at their proximity, keeping his gaze on his phone as sweat drips down his neck.
“I fly everywhere,” Hawks shrugs, typing in the location of the PLF mansion.
“No way we’re going there,” Dabi puts his arm around Hawks, plucking the phone out of his hands.
“Why not?” Hawks frowns.
“We’re out of commission until this shit gets fixed. I’m not about to waltz in with these shits on my back,” Dabi gestures to the wings. “I’d never hear the end of it,” he grumbles, typing something into the destination bar.
Hawks ignores the diss on his wings and rolls his eyes. “Where the hell are we supposed to go then?” He asks.
Dabi smirks—and it definitely does not make Hawks flare up—and hands his phone back to him. Hawks looks down, choking on his own spit.
“How do you know my address?!” He asks, looking at the villain incredulously.
“I have my ways, birdie,” Dabi smiles before pushing himself off of Hawks. Dabi stumbles again, cursing under his breath as he heads off in the direction of the train station. “Let’s go before we miss the last train.”
Hawks catches up to him, wondering if he should be concerned for his safety before deciding that he doesn’t really mind Dabi staying over at his place. The thought itself has him warming up and fanning himself with his compression shirt.
“Dude, how are you not sweating buckets all the time?” He asks.
Dabi looks over at him and furrows his brows. “I barely sweat. I got some resistance to heat and I can’t exactly sweat out of skin grafts.”
“These are skin grafts?” Hawks tilts his head, poking at the staple at the corner of Dabi’s mouth.
The villain slaps his hand away. “If it can even be called skin anymore, yeah.”
Hawks nods in understanding, frowning at the thought of Dabi needing such a medical procedure. “When did you get them?”
“What is this, twenty questions?” Dabi grumbles, rolling his shoulders.
“I’m just curious,” Hawks holds his hands up in defence. He trips over his own feet, hand shooting out to hold onto Dabi.
“Jesus, you’re like Bambi,” Dabi pauses, grabbing onto Hawks’ forearm to help him up right.
“Who?”
“Forget it.” The villain rolls his eyes. “The fuck do you keep walking funny for?”
“Walking is hard!” Hawks whines. “I never realized how heavy my wings were until now.”
“Yeah about that, how the fuck do you not have back problems? My back is already killing me,” Dabi hunches over again. “And what’s up with the nails?” He inspects his hand before shoving both of them into his pockets.
“Bodies are made for their quirks. I never had any issues ‘cause of my anatomy,” he explains, dodging the topic of his talons.
“Not all bodies,” Dabi mumbles and starts walking again. Hawks’ frowns, watching the villain walk off.
He’s sure he wasn’t meant to hear that and debates whether or not he should ask what Dabi meant by that.
Technically, he knows that he should. His job here is to find out any and all information about the League, along with figuring out their plans. But part of him really doesn’t want to anymore.
He never wanted this mission in the first place and after meeting and getting to know the villains, he’s come to realize that he quite actually hates what he’s doing. He doesn’t want to deceive them, despite the voice in the back of his mind telling him to do his job. They’re all victims of the same system and sure, murder and kidnapping isn’t the right way to make change happen, but they’re still people with emotions that Hawks himself can relate to.
Not for the first time, Hawks thinks about how right they just might be about reforming hero society.
Hawks sighs, electing not to ask and looks down at his feet as he takes step after step. He’s careful as he picks up the pace, trying to catch up to Dabi again. He accidentally makes a too-long stride, staggering once again and groans in frustration.
“Dabi,” he calls out.
The villain stops under a streetlamp, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow in question. The warm colour of the light makes the wings look darker than they probably are, yet Hawks thinks they suit Dabi pretty well.
He shakes the thought out of his head, gesturing for Dabi to approach. “Get on my back.”
Dabi’s eyebrows shoot up past his bangs. “Excuse me?”
“C’mon, I’ll stop tripping and your back will hurt less, it’s a win-win,” Hawks replies, waving him over.
“You’re not giving me a piggyback ride, that’s ridiculous,” Dabi shakes his head.
“Fine then we aren’t making it to my apartment until…” he looks down at his phone that indicates 11:37PM. “Three A.M.”
Dabi tilts his head back and mumbles something into the air, balancing himself on his feet. Hawks looks at his form, nearly entirely silhouetted under the light. The wings add to the scene, making Dabi look almost graceful in the night. Hawks couldn't look away even if he wanted to, entranced by the image of Dabi in the orange light like a fallen angel praying to its home.
The moment is broken when the villain turns, stomping over to him and gesturing for Hawks to crouch down. He does so willingly, bringing his arms back as he feels Dabi’s hands smooth up his back. He stops at the wing slits, pressing down on the protruding bones of Hawks’ shoulder blades.
“Those are my scapulas. It’s where the wings connect,” Hawks says, assuming Dabi’s question.
“Didn’t ask for a bird anatomy lesson,” Dabi huffs but his hands don’t leave him, nimble fingers touching his bare skin making goosebumps rise. He finally brings his hands up to Hawks’ shoulders and Hawks readies himself to lift him.
Dabi jumps on, Hawks adjusting his stance, securing his arms around Dabi’s thighs and standing back up straight. He already feels much more balanced, steady on his feet as he hikes Dabi up on his back.
As he does so, Dabi makes a noise that could only be called a chirp, making both men freeze.
“Blondie.”
Hawks hesitates, closing his eyes shut and bowing his head. “Yeah?” His voice comes out more strained than he’d care to admit.
“What the fuck was that?” Dabi’s voice is right next to his ear and he can feel himself heat up again.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hawks replies, deciding to get a move on. He takes stable steps, pointedly looking ahead.
“Do you fucking chirp ?” He can hear the amusement in Dabi’s voice.
“Don’t know if you knew, but that came out of you. Not me,” Hawks denies.
“Yeah and I’ve never made that noise until this shit happened,” Dabi grabs a handful of Hawks’ hair and turns his head to look at him. The man’s got a stupid smirk on his face that lets Hawks know he won’t be dropping this. “What other bird noises do you make, huh?”
The smell of burning leather is back as Hawks grits his teeth, tilting his head away and prompting Dabi to let go of his hair. His forearms rest on Hawks’ shoulders leisurely, waiting for an answer.
“None of your business,” Hawks mutters.
“If you don’t tell me now, I’m still going to figure it out. Who knows how long we’ll be like this,” Dabi sniffles. More sweat drips down from Hawks’ forehead and he can feel his palms getting clammy. His body heats up in annoyance even further when Dabi speaks again. “How come I’ve never heard you chirp before?”
Hawks ignores him, continuing his way to the station. They’re lucky it’s the middle of the night, leaving the streets void of pedestrians. A grown man giving another grown man a piggyback ride would surely get some looks. Not to mention the number two hero leisurely walking with a villain literally at his back.
“C’mon pretty bird, how come?” Dabi asks again.
“You’re the bird now, maybe I should be calling you that,” Hawks says.
Dabi gasps dramatically, pulling on Hawks hair again. Hawks turns to look at the shit-eating grin on the villain’s face. “You think I’m pretty?”
Hawks feels his eye twitch and his skin burn. He’s sure his face is bright red and whether it’s from the implication that he thinks Dabi is pretty—which objectively, he supposes wouldn’t be a false statement—or from his patience wearing thin, he’s not too sure.
He’s pretty sure he feels a flame ignite at his temple when he realizes that Dabi is implying he thinks Hawks is pretty and it’s not just a nickname the man gave him to rile him up.
His theory is confirmed when Dabi’s eyes flick to his hair, mild worry swimming through his gaze as his hand comes up to cover a spot. “Don’t burn yourself, idiot,” Dabi says in a voice that’s too soft for Hawks’ heart. It definitely doesn’t help the warmth spreading through him. It’s like anything Dabi says or does makes Hawks about to catch fire, no matter what he makes Hawks feel.
Hawks clear his throat, looking forward. “I’m not allowed to make those noises.”
Dabi leans his head on his arm, looking at Hawks’ profile. His hand is still in Hawks’ hair, idly brushing the messy curls away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He glances at Dabi from the corner of his eye, picking at the skin on his lower lip. “It’s not professional.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Hawks groans, wanting to be done with this conversation.
“No, what the fuck? What do you mean ‘not professional’?” Dabi raises his voice, demanding an answer.
Hawks’ hands heat up on Dabi’s thighs even more, but the other makes no indication he feels it. He grits his teeth in irritation. “It’s ugly, it’s weird, it’s unprofessional,” he rushes out. “I’m not allowed to make bird sounds. I was trained out of them. Get it now?” He emphasizes each word, making sure Dabi understands what he means so they can stop talking about it.
Dabi’s hand pauses before falling limp, hanging over Hawks’ shoulder. Hawks watches Dabi's hands clench into fists over and over and despite not seeing him, Hawks can feel the anger and hostility in the air. Even still, the only sound in the night are Hawks’ footsteps as he walks down the barren streets.
Minutes pass as they close in on the train station when Dabi speaks.
“Have I ever told you how much I hate heroes?”
“Didn’t really have to. I am well aware you don’t like them,” Hawks replies.
“I ever tell you why?”
Hawks frowns in thought. He thinks back to all the conversations they’ve had and all the times Dabi has mentioned hero society and realizes that no, he hasn’t actually gone into depth about his distaste for the system.
“Lay it on me,” he sighs as he turns a corner, the train station coming into view. Part of him knows he won’t like the answer. The other part—the bigger part—is curious as to why Dabi joined the League in the first place.
Truthfully, there’s a lot of things Hawks is curious about, if a little afraid to ask. He knows that once he gets answers to his questions, he’ll have to report them. It’s a betrayal he’s not ready to make to anyone in the League.
“Heroes—as a concept—make sense. Y’know, saving people from disasters, keeping those with bad intentions in check. Hell, I used to wanna be a hero. I wanted to fight bad guys and keep them from hurting others.”
Hawks is stunned silent. He never imagined someone like Dabi would ever want to become a hero. He supposes he can say that about all villains though. But then again, villains are made, not born. That is something he’s come to realize as he gets to know the League.
“But then, you grow up and you learn about the world around you. You burn yourself and wait for rescue until it never comes. You’re beaten up because you don’t look quote unquote normal. You’re shunned because of your mental instability. You’re labelled a monster for having urges that are rooted in your DNA,” Dabi pauses. “You get told to hide the so-called ugly part of your nature in the name of professionalism.”
Hawks feels his chest tighten the more he listens to him, the more he connects the dots.
“You live with someone society deems heroic despite what happens behind closed doors and you’re just supposed to be okay with it because they put villains behind bars. You watch and watch as they ruin a family in the name of fame and glory and when it comes to a head,” he takes a deep breath in. “Nothing changes.”
Dabi’s voice lowers, just above a whisper. “You run away from a broken home and wait for someone, anyone to reach out a hand to you. But then it never comes,” the sadness, the sorrow in his tone make Hawks tighten his grip on Dabi’s thighs.
“Stain is right about heroes. They don’t actually care about keeping the peace or protecting the people around them. Heroes don’t help everyone. Not because it’s impossible but because they get to pick and choose who they think deserves it. As if just being a person isn’t enough to grant you a helping hand or let you be who you are.”
Hawks stops in front of the station, staring at the bright lights inside. Dabi shifts to get down so Hawks lets go of his thighs, feeling Dabi’s hand on his shoulder as he tries to right himself. He looks over and meets Dabi’s gaze.
“You’re a person, Hawks. You should be allowed to just be. ”
Dabi’s eyes bore into him with so much intensity, he feels the heat of Dabi's flames all around him. And yet, his skin doesn’t burn.
The villain turns to the station, pulling the hood of his jacket up and curling his body forward to accommodate the weight of his wings. Hawks watches him go, the red feathers becoming all the more bright in the white light of the terminus and he notices the rips in Dabi’s jacket where the wings grew. The wings bounce with every movement and he knows Dabi probably looks a little silly to everyone else, hunched over and walking ridiculously with huge appendages on his back.
But all Hawks sees is a passionate man with a cause he’s fighting for. A man that really does care for others, a man who wants change for the better. A man that looks good in red and the only man that can look ethereal in a train station at midnight.
Red really does suit him, his mind supplies as he keeps staring at the wings.
He reflects over Dabi’s words, taking careful steps into the building. You’re a person.
No one has ever really told Hawks that. He knows he’s technically a person, he has a conscience and feelings and can act on his own. But when was the last time he was treated as such?
When he was kicked around like a soccer ball? When he was sold to the government? When he was labelled as a weapon? When fans touch his wings like a display?
The mark on his wrist begins to sting, the ghost of a needle sparking fake pains up his arm as images of a white light shine through his mind. He grabs onto his own wrist, rubbing his thumb over the area covered by his glove.
He thinks about the times his mask slipped off around the League and decides they’re the only ones that really see him as what he is. A human being, messed up by the very system they’re trying to break down.
The League of Villains are trying to stop what happened to Takami Keigo from happening to others.
He likes the sound of that.
A loud chime rings overhead, indicating the next train will arrive in two minutes.
He finds Dabi in the corner, staring at a beanie in his hands that he surely stole from the small shop not five metres away. Hawks rolls his eyes to himself, hurrying to the cash—that had been stupidly left unattended—and dropping a few bills on the counter before quickly buying two tickets to the train. He’s thankful the clerk hadn’t recognized him or cared enough to make a big deal about him being there.
Dabi looks up as Hawks approaches him, shoving the hat at him. “Wear it. I don’t need you drawing attention.”
“I’m in my hero costume, man. Don’t think a beanie will do much,” he says but puts the beanie on nonetheless. Dabi snarls, staring at the flight jacket like it personally offended him. Hawks rolls his eyes, taking the coat off and holding his arms out. “Better?”
Dabi’s wings puff up as he stares at Hawks’ arms. The villain narrows his eyes but says nothing, snatching a ticket from his hand and pushing past him.
Hawks stumbles a bit before carefully walking behind Dabi. They scan their tickets, passing the turnstiles just as the train arrives. Stepping into the cart, Hawks feels more off balance than before, quickly taking a seat.
He looks around the train, taking in the bright lights and all the ads on the walls. Dabi sits down beside him, immediately starting to fight with his wings. He shuffles in his seat, slapping plumage away from his face, manually moving them to spread them out better.
“How the fuck do you sit with these things?” Dabi glares at them over his shoulder.
Hawks snickers behind his hand. “You get used to it.”
Dabi huffs in annoyance, standing up in front of Hawks and holding onto the railing above him instead. “Stupid fucking wings,” he grumbles.
“Hey man, don’t insult the wings!” Hawks says, looking up at him. “Try spreading them out a bit.”
The train takes off as Dabi frowns. “How do I do that?”
“Just think about what you want them to do and they’ll do it. They’re like arms, y’know. Eventually you’ll just be able to do it without thinking. It might take a few tries-”
Before he can finish the sentence, Dabi spreads the wings wide, looking back at each of them before turning his smug smirk to Hawks. “A few tries, was it?”
Hawks rolls his eyes. “Extending them out completely is easier than controlling them to open just a bit.”
The villain shrugs, and suddenly the wings close in on themselves, slightly spread open. Hawks stares at them wide-eyed with his jaw dropped. He was a kid when he got the hang of controlling his wings but surely it can’t be that easy.
Just as he’s about to say something, a feather comes up, dragging across his cheeks, tickling him behind the ear. He jerks away, staring at the villain who just laughs.
“It’s not that hard,” Dabi shrugs.
“Holy crap,” Hawks mutters. Dabi lets go of the bar, spreading the wings just enough to allow him to sit down. Hawks leans forward, leaving room for the feathers to spread out against the bench.
“How long did it take you to learn how to control these things?” Dabi asks as a feather wisps in front of him. He holds onto it, stroking the feather mindlessly.
“Honestly? No clue. I remember having a decent grasp on it as a kid but I’m pretty sure it was instinct at the time,” Hawks puts his hand over his mouth in thought. “Training helped a lot though. I was able to control them all by the time I was like seven.”
“You trained at seven?” Dabi asks curiously.
“I started when I was six,” Hawks nods.
“Huh,” Dabi says, looking at the floor.
“When did you learn to control your quirk?” Hawks asks.
Dabi shrugs, playing with the feather. “Been training for as long as I can remember.” The villain shrinks into himself, covering his mouth with the collar of his jacket.
Hawks hums. Seeing Dabi’s eyes so downcast makes Hawks drop the subject. Instead he pulls out his phone, scrolling through his apps to pass the time.
The cart is empty besides them, it’s quiet, though not unpeaceful. Hawks can feel the fatigue of the day get to him the more he sits and waits.
He feels Dabi shift closer to him, looking over with his brows furrowed.
Dabi quickly glances at him before staring at the feather, avoiding his eyes. “You’re warm.” Hawks can see a slight tint of pink on his cheekbones where the skin grafts don’t reach.
Hawks chuckles. “Now you know what people without fire quirks feel like all the time.”
“It’s weird,” Dabi rubs his nose. “Not feeling the heat.”
“Is it this constant? I feel like I’m in a sauna and it’s like ten degrees out,” Hawks takes a quick look out the window of the train. The nights have been pretty chilly lately, much to his distaste.
“Pretty much. Always burning,” Dabi’s lips pull into a tight line.
His choice of wording makes Hawks pause. He wonders what exactly Dabi means by that. Does his quirk actually burn him? He did say not all bodies are made for their quirks. Huh.
He watches as the man sends out more feathers, making them play tricks in the air. It’s pretty impressive, he can’t lie. Dabi has got good control over these feathers already and it’s barely been five minutes since he even tried.
A stray feather comes back to glide against Hawks’ skin. It moves along his chin and to his jaw, across his nose and over his eyes. Hawks lets it happen, wondering if maybe Dabi can feel the heat of his skin through the feather.
The rest of the train ride is silent, but not uncomfortably so. It’s not all that uncommon for moments like these to happen between the two of them. After they stopped being at each other’s throats all the time, Hawks realized that silence with Dabi wasn’t as suffocating as the silence in his own apartment. It’s nice, in a way. To be able to just sit with another person and enjoy their company.
He’s never really had that kind of comfort, always feeling so alone despite all the people around him. His biological parents, his handlers, his fellow heroes. And while he may seem pretty outgoing, sometimes Hawks just needs some peace and quiet.
If anyone would have told him Dabi would be the source of said peace and quiet when he first started the mission, he’d have laughed so hard he’d burst a lung.
But now, he looks over at the villain, watching his eyes follow the feathers as they dance around the cart and Hawks feels kind of grateful to have him around. He’s grown comfortable in Dabi’s presence, even when they bicker.
Hawks traces the line of the staples on Dabi’s cheek with his eyes. Considering what he's learned tonight, he knows the purple skin and staples aren't purely for aesthetics and his heart aches just thinking about what could have happened to leave Dabi’s skin peeling off like that.
He follows the bridge of Dabi’s nose, the hoods of his eyes, the spikes of his hair. He takes all of it in, not realizing he’s been staring for too long until gold meets blue and the fire returns.
They stare at each other without a word and Hawks feels himself sweating the more Dabi keeps his eyes on him. Dabi’s eyes flick downward just as Hawks’ phone pings with a notification indicating their stop is coming up.
He looks away, clicking at his phone and feeling the weight of Dabi’s gaze on him.
“Stop’s coming up,” Hawks says, standing up in a hurry to escape the tension. The train is fairly stable as it comes to a stop but that doesn’t stop Hawks from nearly falling, hand shooting up to hold onto the railing. Dabi reacts just as fast, putting a hand on Hawks’ waist to keep him up right.
Hawks freezes in place, Dabi’s hand burning a brand into him. The villain stands up, looking down at Hawks. Their bodies are pressed together and Hawks thinks he needs an ice bath to get rid of the warmth.
“Careful, birdie,” Dabi says in a low voice. “Wouldn’t want you to break that pretty face of yours.”
And Hawks melts.
He looks up at Dabi, mentally cursing himself for being so weak to the rasp of his voice. Hawks coughs into his fist, quickly turning to avoid that look and steps off the train. He puffs his cheeks, slowly breathing out trying to cool off. Steam wisps from his mouth, curling in the air around him. His mind is racing with a million thoughts and he feels like he’s just run a marathon, hot and out of breath when the only thing he can seem to think of is blue flames and cerulean eyes.
Hawks waits for Dabi, looking around for the exit. The villain comes up behind him, seemingly waiting for something.
“What?” Hawks asks.
Dabi raises an eyebrow, shaking his head and gesturing for Hawks to lead the way. Hawks moves, barely taking two steps until he’s tripping on his own feet again. His face heats up in embarrassment when he looks back to see Dabi standing with his arms crossed and a dumb smirk on his face.
Hawks sighs, turning his back to Dabi and crouching down with his arms stretched behind him. Dabi chuckles, coming up behind him and climbing on.
“I know I said this was ridiculous but I think I’m starting to like you carrying me around,” Dabi says. Hawks can hear the smug grin. He adjusts his arms, holding his jacket between his forearm and Dabi’s thigh before setting off.
“Okay, princess,” Hawks grumbles under his breath, earning a smack upside the head. He glances behind him to glare at Dabi only to be met with an innocent smile. Hawks huffs out a laugh, turning back to head out of the station. He ignores the weird looks he gets from the few people still around this late at night, walking into the cool air of the night.
Dabi rests his chin on Hawks’ head, putting his elbows on Hawks’ shoulders and letting his arms fall loosely as he leisurely swings his feet. Something about the gesture is just so endearing and Hawks never, in a million years, would have used that word to describe Dabi. And yet.
The comfortable weight on his back makes Hawks think on whether or not being in close proximity to Dabi for the foreseeable future will do any good on his pounding heart that threatens to jump out of his chest.
They walk in comfortable silence, Dabi mindlessly picking at the talons that now decorate his fingers and Hawks pointedly not looking at them, glancing around the empty streets. The villain sniffles every few seconds, probably feeling the effects of the cold night more than he ever has before.
Hawks pauses for a moment, removing a hand from Dabi to take the sweat-soaked beanie and his gloves off with a grimace, holding them with his coat and then fluffing up his hair. He takes a quick look at his phone for directions before adjusting his hold on the villain again and setting off.
The guy isn’t heavy by any means and if Hawks wasn’t feeling the heat of blueflame, he wouldn’t be breaking a sweat in the slightest.
That being said, his palms have become clammier and clammier by the second.
It takes three times of him fixing his grip on Dabi and two times he stops to hike him up for the villain to speak up.
“Stop fucking squirming, would you?” Dabi gripes.
“Do you want to fall?” Hawks asks.
“Don’t be a dumbass and I won’t,” Dabi snarks back.
Hawks pauses in the middle of the sidewalk. He quickly lets go of Dabi—just for a second— letting him fall before catching him again by his thighs.
In hindsight, Hawks should have anticipated the ear piercing bird-like shriek Dabi lets out right in his ear. Hawks grits his teeth, not letting it show how much that hurt his eardrums, because ow, and stares ahead without a single movement.
“You done complaining?” He asks, still looking in front of him. Dabi wraps his arms around Hawks’ neck and his legs around his hips for more security.
Dabi coughs into his own shoulder and kicks his heel into Hawks’ thigh before bringing it back up. “Just keep walking, chicken.”
Hawks scoffs in amusement. “Back to ‘chicken’ now, are we?” He tips his head back with a laugh when all he receives is a tug at his hair in response and keeps walking. If he fixes his hold on Dabi more than necessary, just to annoy the villain, that’s no one else’s business.
Something pulls at his hair again, untangling the small knots. Dabi rakes his fingers through Hawks’ hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Hawks sighs contentedly, opting not to say anything about it lest Dabi stop. The scrape of the talons is incredibly soothing, and he’ll gladly allow himself to bask in the warm feeling it gives him.
He’s preening me.
Hawks’ mind halts at the thought, the fire in him igniting again. His breath catches in his throat as his heart begins to beat rapidly in his chest.
To him, preening is a very intimate act of care and courtship. Something he’s never really done with another person before, nor felt particularly inclined to. The bond of two birds sharing a moment such as this is not something he has felt.
Until now, that is.
“What’s got you worked up, birdie?” Dabi asks, still mindlessly weaving his fingers through the blond strands of hair.
“Huh?” Hawks’ voice comes out higher than he intended, so he clears his throat and hopes Dabi hadn’t noticed.
“You’re heating up again,” the villain says.
Hawks chuckles awkwardly, turning a corner before answering. “Don’t worry about it.”
He feels Dabi shift, most likely shrugging his shoulders as he keeps up his ministrations. Hawks shakes his head free of any thoughts of courting, deciding it’s just his bird brain running wild and grasping onto the idea of Dabi wanting to mate him.
He ignores the swoop in his stomach and the giddiness in his chest, biting his lip to prevent the smile threatening to take over.
The walk to his apartment isn’t far from the station, much to his relief. They make it soon after 1A.M. and Hawks pauses in front of his building, looking up at his balcony on the very top floor.
“Any chance you can fly us up there?” He asks, already knowing the answer.
Dabi’s hand pauses, laying flat on the top of Hawks’ head, roughly tilting his head so Hawks is looking at him upside down. “Are you fucking insane?”
“It was worth a shot,” he mutters, straightening himself and climbing the steps to get inside.
The climb up to his apartment is certainly an event. The narrow staircases are the very reason he flies up to his balcony. Dabi’s wings bump into every corner and drag against the walls making him complain about the feeling of the drywall against the the vanes of his feathers.
Hawks nearly trips every five steps because while he certainly walks better with Dabi’s weight on his back, walking up the stairs with a grown man clinging to him isn’t exactly the easiest task in the world. Dabi writhing right behind him very much does not help either.
By the time they make it to the last floor, Hawks is slightly out of breath and sweating like a damn pig.
He hoists Dabi up one last time before lifting his coat in the air and getting Dabi to pull out his key for him.
Stepping into his apartment has never felt so good. He is eternally thankful his past self left the windows open to air out the space, leaving the apartment cool. He hangs his head forward with a sigh of relief as a gust of wind breezes in from outside.
The events of the day start to take over, making him drape his coat and accessories on the loveseat and drag his feet to the couch sluggishly. He collapses onto the sofa, making Dabi squawk in indignation as he’s squished under Hawks’ weight.
“Fucking- ow, you moron,” Dabi growls, writhing under him and puffing out his wings. Hawks is pushed off the couch entirely but when his arms and face hit the cool marble floor, he can’t even bring himself to be upset, mentally thanking Dabi for the reprieve. He groans, turning his face to lay his cheek against the floor, looking up at Dabi’s unimpressed look.
“You look stupid.”
Hawks closes his eyes, turning to his other cheek. “I really could not care less right now.”
Dabi snorts and falls silent. Hawks doesn’t move from his spot as he hears Dabi cough and shuffle around above him, deciding that if Dabi breaks anything, he’ll deal with it later.
He’s nearly falling asleep when he feels something nudge his side.
Hawks blinks his eyes open, looking at Dabi out of the corner of his eye. By the looks of it, Dabi had helped himself to Hawks’ wardrobe, now dressed in sweatpants that are too short for him and a long sleeved shirt that looks three sizes too big.
“If you don’t move, I’m monopolizing your bed,” Dabi says. The fatigue must be getting to him too, his voice growing more and more hoarse.
Hawks sighs, pushing himself up carefully. “Surprised you didn’t just let me fall asleep here.”
“I’m not an asshole, I’ve got manners,” Dabi rolls his eyes. Hawks gives him a look and raises an eyebrow, entirely unbelieving. Dabi only flashes him a sweet smile for all of a second before his face falls and he turns to the couch, shedding the feathers of his wings to sit down comfortably.
“Might wanna sleep on your stomach,” Hawks tells him. “Fierce wings reverts to its natural state during unconsciousness.”
Dabi groans dramatically. “What else should I know about your stupid quirk?”
“It’s not stupid,” Hawks frowns. “And honestly, I have no idea. You seem to be fine controlling it so I don’t think you’ll have much trouble,” he shrugs.
“Yeah, except how sensitive they are. I didn’t know you could hear out of ‘em,” Dabi glares at him.
“I don’t hear out of them. I can sense vibrations and translate them to make sense of words and sounds. I can also feel through them,” Hawks explains. “You’ll get used to it.”
“You have got to stop saying that,” Dabi grumbles.
“Is there anything I should know about your quirk?” Hawks takes a seat on the other end of the couch, leaning against the armrest and bringing his knees to his chest.
Dabi purses his lips, picking at a piece of lint on his pants. “Just don’t use it.”
“Why not?”
The meagre feathers Dabi still has on his back twitch against the couch as the villain looks up at Hawks. He’s apprehensive, opening and closing his mouth, figuring out what to say. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Dabi, I’m gonna be living with your quirk for-”
“It doesn’t matter, just don’t use it,” he repeats through gritted teeth.
“What happens if I do?” Hawks challenges, narrowing his eyes. He doesn’t understand what the big deal is about him using Dabi’s quirk and honestly, he just wants to figure it out now that Dabi tells him not to.
He raises his hand, palm up the way Dabi does when he’s about to start a fire. He stares at his hand, thinking about summoning the blue flames with as much focus as he can muster. Dabi shoots out, grabbing Hawks’ wrist tightly.
“Stop it,” he glares at Hawks. His grip tightens even more, the talons digging into Hawks’ skin. Hawks suppress a wince, setting his jaw and looking at the villain.
“Why?” Hawks raises his voice.
“Because that’s not what-” Dabi looks down at his hand in alarm. “Hawks.” His voice sounds almost panicked. Hawks glances down to see blood drip down his wrist. “Why- why can’t I let go?”
Hawks scrambles to stop Dabi, grabbing onto his wrist when the guy tries to force his hand off. “Do not do that.” The last thing he wants is for Dabi to rip a chunk out of his wrist.
“Why can’t I let go?” Dabi asks again, staring at the blood staining his nails.
“You’re stress gripping,” Hawks says gently, bringing his knees down and shuffling closer to Dabi. He put his legs over Dabi’s lap, his free hand coming up to hold onto Dabi’s wrist.
“Stress…?”
“Stress gripping. Happens when a raptor bird is in distress,” he rubs his thumb in circles over Dabi’s pulse point. The heartbeat under his thumb is beating rapidly making Hawks frown, glancing at Dabi. “You gotta calm down, man. It’s fine.”
“Don’t use my quirk,” Dabi blurts out, staring at Hawks with wide eyes.
Hawks blinks, surprised at the outburst. But he sees the panic in Dabi’s eyes and decides not to fight him on it for once.
“Okay,” he agrees. “I won’t.”
Dabi immediately deflates, blowing out a long puff of air. His knee bounces, still uneasy, as he brings a hand up and runs his fingers through his hair.
Hawks crinkles his nose, feeling the talons still digging into his skin. He pushes the pain away, scooting as close to Dabi as possible. He lets go of Dabi’s wrist, bringing his hand to Dabi’s wings and threading his fingers through the small amount of plumage. He sees the pile of feathers on the floor twitch slightly but Dabi doesn’t object so he keeps going.
He’s never done this to someone else before. Not that he knew many people with wings to begin with. He’s smoothed down Tokoyami’s feathers in the past but more as a quick act of affection or a good job, kid than anything else.
Hawks has never gotten this kind of treatment. No one’s ever preened him or soothed his ruffled feathers. He’s always done it himself, petting his own wings when screams became too loud or training became too much. His method of self-comfort worked well enough at the time. But sometimes, he wishes he had someone else to do it for him.
His fingers lightly pinch a feather, trailing a line over the quill and straightening it out. Dabi gasps at the action but ultimately melts back into the couch, letting Hawks soothe him in the only way he knows how.
Something in Hawks’ chest hursts the more he looks at Dabi. The villain looks so fragile right now, like a scared little kid ready to bolt at any moment.
He lets his mind wander, thinking about why Dabi had freaked out so much at the idea of Hawks activating the flames that flicker under his skin. He doesn’t think it’d be that difficult to figure out. Sure, fire tends to be an uncontrollable source. But Hawks is a fast learner and if he’s the source, it should be fairly easy in small bursts.
Don’t burn yourself, idiot.
Dabi’s words from earlier flow through his mind, but no matter how hard Hawks tries to make sense of it, he just doesn’t understand.
Why would he burn himself? If they switched quirks and Dabi has many characteristics of a bird, then wouldn’t Hawks be fire resistant now? At least to some degree.
His skin definitely feels hotter than usual, but heat and burning are different. Maybe his earlier theory is correct and Dabi actually does burn himself with his quirk. He’s heard Endeavour talking about cooling down after a fight, lest he hurts himself with his own flames but that’s only after extensive use of his powers.
Just how hot do Dabi’s flames get?
He opens the hand Dabi has in his hold, realizing how red his palm is from earlier. It does hurt, though it's more of a dull sting than actual pain. Then again, that probably wasn't even a fraction of Dabi's usual firepower.
Hawks examines Dabi’s posture, noting how much more relaxed he is now, leaning into Hawks’ hand on his wing. His eyes have slipped shut, quick breaths slowing down, and his head has tipped forward a little. Hawks lingers on the purple skin, the grafts that cover 90% of what Hawks can see of his body.
Dabi’s answers from the past few hours start falling into place as Hawks pieces the puzzle that is Dabi together.
His heart stops at the realization, aching behind his ribcage.
In just one evening, Hawks has found out more about Dabi than he has in the last few months he’s been investigating the League. It’s all too much information, his mind is firing theory after theory about the man in front of him.
Hawks’ mind snaps back to reality when he sees feathers move out of the corner of his eye. He glances at his hand, still mindlessly running through red feathers as more join them in their rightful places on the wings, then he looks at Dabi.
The hand not holding Hawks’ wrist has made its way onto his shin, gently keeping him in place. Dabi’s breaths have evened out, his body leaning forward even more now. The grip Dabi had on his wrist has loosened, letting Hawks slip out of his hold and examines the wounds Dabi's talons left in his skin. One of them landed just beside the very mark Hawks can never get rid of.
Hawks pauses his preening, taking his wrist in hand and bringing it closer to his face to further assess the damage. The pain is pretty bad, but definitely not the worst he’s ever had done to him.
He looks back at Dabi who hasn’t reacted at all, realizing he’s fallen asleep. The man is pushed forward by the mass of feathers now fully attached to him once more. Hawks reaches out to pet his wings again, a small smile making its way onto his lips when Dabi sighs contentedly in his sleep.
Dabi is probably going to kill him tomorrow when he wakes up with his back aching because Hawks didn’t let him lay properly. But he looks at the hand holding his leg and the slow rise and fall of Dabi’s chest and he can’t bring himself to stop preening Dabi’s feathers just yet.