burn me to my ashes i'll rise from the ground

Hawks: do you always have to come to war half stripped, it's distracting

Dabi gestures to Hawks' half burnt clothes, coat missing: look at yourself & say that again

Hawks lunges for Dabi, pulling his coat off his shoulders too: this is your fault!

In the aftermath...

Dabi's back is against the grounds, only Hawks' bare cheeks shielding him from exposing everything to the world.

'So you did quite a number birdie, I don't think I'll actually have any clothes left next battle.'

What's left of Hawks’ wings ripple pleasantly against his back, as he props his chin atop of Dabi's beating heart, his exposed chest more distracting than ever, but definitely nice.

'Well I'm not any better off, hot stuff.'

Dabi snorts, 'Cmon, you've got like a million copies of those hero fits don't you? We don't all have a hero's budget.'

Theres something like amusement in his eyes as Hawks considers, 'Just show up to costume design with me then.'

'... what just like walk in with you?'

Hawks eyes’ cast over to his as he asks point-blank, 'You took out the hpsc didn't you?'

'...they may have gotten caught in the crossfire, I'm not keeping track'

Hawks nods good-naturedly, 'Right then, I don't see an issue.'

Dabi shakes his head in disbelief as Hawks affirms again, ‘Just throw some flames, I'm sure we can make it convincing'

Dabi’s hands comb through Hawks wings as he murmurs, ‘You're so out of hand, little bird’

‘Isn't that the point?’

Dabi hides a grin, ‘You're welcome by the way.'

Hawks exhales a laugh as he smothers a smile against Dabi's chest, 'You too. So when's the next fight?'

'Next month maybe?'

"Why do you still collect those old things?"

It's more curiosity than anything else. Even now. When they know each other's past. It's no secret, but they don't often openly talk about it either. Their past is easier glossed around, only ever unburied in the hush of a moment. They’ve lived those moments for too long, there are happier moments they’d rather recall now.

Hawks leans back against his chest, settling into his arms without any hesitance and it makes something inside of Dabi confirm: it really doesn't matter.

Not if Hawks still picks up odd trinkets of the old little flame in the passing. 

It's just a toy. 

"Mm," Hawks hums as the hideous little thing swings. "Guess it just... reminds me of... my mother."

Hawks gives a kind of shrug, eyes fixed on the little flame before he casts it back over to Dabi and he exhales. 

Blinks, once, twice. "Does it—does it bother you?" 

Hawks had told him exactly once, how the only toy he’d ever had had been the old flame plush grabbed right out of a discount bin. It had been all Hawks’ mother had been able to afford at the time and it was enough to give Hawks something on the days he was restless and without anyone else to keep his attention.

Hawks didn’t say the words, but it was implied: Hawks didn’t have anything or–anyone–else.  

The old flame plush sits now at the edge of their living room shelf, with all of the rest of the odd pieces of life that’s become a part of their house. Books Dabi liked reading. Little mascot trinkets Hawks picked up across prefectures when he’s off on some heroic duty. Something he wanted to share with Dabi. Something that reminded him of Dabi. 

There’s a number of keychains too, the little flame in various shades here and there. Nothing excessive, but scattered fragments from occasions Hawks picks them up. He sets them down and then he forgets about them, until his eyes cast over it again. 

It doesn’t bother Dabi. 

“Nah,” he breathes.

“Really?” Hawks asks, as if he’s the one hiding his feelings. It’s a fair question.

They do that. Being direct about their feelings isn’t something they’re used to, but… 

Dabi recalls a time when he collected those things. It isn’t the harbor of bitter resentment that builds in his chest now even if Hawks still does it. Not if it still brings Hawks something positive. Those had been few and far between for long enough. 

If he wants to recall a single happy memory from those times…  

“Really. Not if it brings you a memory you’re fond of,” Dabi confirms, the honesty of it exhaling out with him. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s just a toy.”

Hawks’ eyes widen, the markings of his eyes pulled out, his mouth parting in words that he doesn’t voice. There’s a shimmer of gold in there, soft and vulnerable like the rare display of his heart reflected back.

It blinks away just as fast, but it’s enough for Dabi to recognize. 

“You’re kind of a sap, you know?” Hawks settles on. Something safe, something teasing and indirect.

Because he’s still not good at saying what he wants, what makes him happy.

Dabi understands. 

To ask for what he wants, even if Hawks will give it to him, has always felt like too much. It’s exactly why he’ll spend every moment he gets letting Hawks have what he wants.