#spicywings

At a glance, Dabi’s moods and expressions are damn near impossible to tell apart. In the time that they’ve been in contact, Hawks has only really seen Dabi function in three modes: Distant and Aloof, Aggravatingly Smug, and FIRE. And even then, the first and the last tend to blend together most of the time, since Dabi doesn’t think much of using his quirk on others. Hawks finds himself wondering if the novelties of murder and arson and villainy have long since worn off for his scarred cohort.

Even so, Hawks prides himself on his razor sharp skills of observation. You can’t be a hero without some semblance of awareness, let alone a top hero, but Hawks’ skills are a clear cut above the others, thanks in large part to the extraordinary precision required to use his quirk effectively.

And tonight, it is obvious that there is something very… off.

Dabi is quiet normally, usually sticking to one or two word answers. Three, if he's feeling particularly chatty. Unless it's to insult him, of course. For that, Dabi will talk all day long. But as they walk side by side down the dark alleyway, having just completed a deal with a shady fellow who leered at the two of them in a way that makes Hawks desperate for a shower, Hawks feels like Dabi is too quiet. To the point where it's uncomfortable.

Even when Hawks’ foot catches a large pothole and he stumbles and bumps into Dabi, the taller man doesn’t acknowledge it, other than a tired suck of the teeth and an outstretched arm to set Hawks upright. Not that Hawks really needed him to do that; he quickly steadies himself with his wings and manages to keep his balance, but that’s hardly the point.

Not a single word. Not even a “You fucking clumsy idiot,” Which is one of Dabi's default reactions where Hawks is concerned, and one that Hawks had an insult fully prepared for.

But nothing.

Hawks wonders if maybe it’s the weather. Rainy weather is one of the few things, besides him, hero society, and the gross dehydrated vegetables in instant ramen, that Dabi is actually quite vocal about hating. It’s been raining for the past few days, and tonight especially, it’s coming down like it’s the end of days. He’s thankful he had the foresight to wear an extra layer under his coat, though at the moment it’s not really doing much to warm him. It’s only been raining hard for maybe ten minutes at the most, but his hair is already dripping into his eyes and the rain is weighing his feathers down almost to the point of discomfort.

Dabi isn’t faring much better, Hawks notices. Being a fire user, he doesn’t necessarily need any extra layers; the bastard could probably steam himself dry in a few minutes if he wanted to. But as Hawks discreetly eyes him, watching the rain drip down his fringe, plastering his dark hair to his head and face, he thinks it might have been wiser to at least wear a hoodie or something, rather than just his usual overcoat with that thin, dingy shirt underneath.

Thankfully, the storm passes quickly. It lessens back to a light drizzle by the time they clear the alleyway, and Hawks finally has enough space (and reason) to stretch his wings out to their full wingspan. With a few mighty flaps, he shakes all of the excess water from his feathers.

“I hate it when it rains this hard,” He says casually as he folds his wings back, “Weighs my damn wings down.” It’s a relatively inane, pointless comment, one that Dabi would not hesitate to label as such; Hawks is hoping he will, if only to break some of the tension that’s been hanging in the air all night. Because truthfully, it’s a discomfiting silence. One that is slowly driving Hawks crazy. Hell, dare he say it, he would actually take the threatening but oddly playful barbs and bickering the two of them engage in (when Dabi is feeling more talkative) on occasion to this.

But all Dabi gives him in response as they continue on their way is an absent nod and a shrug of the shoulders.

Hawks almost growls at the lack of engagement, but gives up. He knows how to pick his battles, too. And by the way Dabi stares straight ahead, jaw set tight, eyes clouded and distant, this is one perhaps best left alone. He’s clearly got something on his mind tonight, and Hawks decides to let it be. It’s not like it’s his problem, anyway.

At least, that’s how Hawks feels until they turn onto another side street, down to the junction where they usually part ways.

“So, I’ll pass the news along to Shigaraki,” Dabi speaks for the first time since leaving that skeevy dealer’s place, voice even softer than normal, “And then once he gives the… the, uh…” He trails off briefly, eyes pinching shut, letting out a quiet, pained grunt.

Ah, so that’s it, Hawks realizes instantly, he’s just not feeling well.

However, he’s not above taking his jabs at Dabi when the opportunity arises. After all, if their roles were reversed, Dabi would most definitely lay into him without a second thought. They have been, and he has, so Hawks feels no shame or sympathy when he says, “You don’t look too good, Dabi. You alright?”

Finally, a genuine reaction: Dabi’s eyes narrow to slits, in what Hawks’ assumes is annoyance at both his taunt, and at himself for letting Hawks see any weakness. Dabi exhales sharply and straightens up to full his height and squares his shoulders, shaking any semblance of discomfort from his visage.

“I’m fine,” He mutters, inhaling deeply, “Just tired.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hawks nods, though he’s hardly convinced. Now, under the streetlights, he can just barely see that Dabi is a little pale in the face, and, for all of his forced bravado, his shoulders are starting to slump again.

“Tired. Right. Once Shigaraki gives the what now?”

Dabi sucks his teeth, mustering up just enough energy to give Hawks one last scathing look. “Once he gives the okay, I’ll contact you again.”

He doesn’t say another word as he turns to leave, and Hawks doesn’t say anything else either.

But he watches.

He stares at Dabi’s retreating back for a bit, head cocked to the side. When Dabi turned away, he turned just a little too quickly, a little too aggressively, and there was a very noticeable lurch and bob as he righted himself before walking away. The first real, clear sign that Dabi is under the weather he’s had tonight.

It was quick; anyone else would’ve missed it. Hawks, unfortunately, is not one of those people, though he really wishes he was. Because now, he can’t move from this spot until Dabi leaves his sight still an upright and ambulatory sentient mood swing. His conscience just won’t let him budge.

Goddammit. He curses mentally.

And, just for the record, it’s not that Hawks necessarily cares about Dabi’s well-being. If it were up to him, he’d let Dabi rot in that gross, dirty alleyway from before. It’s all the man deserves, frankly. What he does care about, however, is maintaining a (somewhat) reliable communication with the league. And for that, he needs Dabi. Dabi is his way in, --his only  way in-- so he’s obligated to care a little.

Besides, he knows for a fact that Dabi’s apartment is a long ways off from here, if only because he’s followed him home before, for surveillance purposes. And hell, it could barely be called an apartment to begin with.

And that piece of knowledge is what finally uproots him from his spot at the stoplight. Dabi rounded the corner a while ago, so Hawks figures it’ll be faster if he takes to the sky. He lands up on the rooftop of the building, and walks along the length of it to the corner.

That’s where he spots Dabi.

Well that didn’t take long, he thinks to himself. letting out a whistle. Dabi must’ve been making one hell of an effort to not let Hawks see just how poorly off he actually was.

“Boy, do I hate being right all the time,”He mutters out loud, but nonetheless he soars back down to ground level.

“Just tired, huh?” He says with a chuckle as he closes the distance between himself and Dabi, “Did you really think you could fool me, Dabi?”

Dabi, who is slumped against the side of the building, his breathing labored between wet coughs, just stares back up at him through narrowed but unfocused eyes. Even in the orange glow of the street lights overhead, the pallor of his skin, the healthy parts, stands in stark contrast to the deep purple scars. Deep down, Hawks can’t help but feel a tiny modicum of respect for the man. How he managed to keep himself together for the duration of the deal is a mystery to him because, to be frank, he looks even more like shit now than before.

Hawks doesn’t hesitate to tell him that, either.

“Fuck off,” Dabi snaps, but it’s hard to be intimidated by him when he slides to the floor, slowly curling into himself and trembling.

Hawks sighs. Damn his conscience.

“Look, I don’t know where you live,” A lie, “But based on what I’m seeing right now,” He says, gesturing to Dabi’s current position and quickly deteriorating condition, “I don’t think you’re gonna make it home, man. Come-”

“I’ll manage,” Dabi cuts him off sharply, pausing for a beat when a wave of nausea passes through him, “I just...need a minute to catch my breath.”

Hawks gives him a look. “The only thing you’ll manage in your state is to stumble into traffic and get hit by a car. That or pass out on some random sidewalk.”

Dabi growls.“I’m fine,” He reiterates, forcing himself to his feet, “I’ve dealt with worse. Just go away.”

He could go away, he should go away. But Hawks doesn’t. Instead, he walks a few paces behind Dabi’s still slouched form, face twisted into a permanent grimace as he watches the other man force himself along at a snail’s pace, using the wall to brace himself. At this rate, it’ll be sunrise before he makes it home.

Assuming he doesn’t pass out face down on the ground before then.

Hawks rolls his eyes. For fuck’s sake.

With two flaps of his wings, he lands directly in front of Dabi, forcing him to stop. “Come home with me.”

Oof, could’ve worded that better, he thinks. By the look on Dabi’s face, he clearly agrees.

“My place isn’t far from here,” Hawks continues quickly, “And I can’t, in good conscience, let you go after seeing you like this. Just crash at my place tonight.”

Despite looking and feeling like death warmed up, Dabi still gives him one of his standard sarcastic replies. “Aww, that’s so fuckin’ sweet of you, hero. Now, move. I said I’m fine.” He says caustically as he shoves his way around Hawks’ form...

...and immediately collapses on the ground.

Hawks stares down at his prone form, shaking his head. “Yep, seems about right.”

He walks over and picks Dabi up, bridal style. Despite their height difference, Hawks finds himself barely struggling to hold the other man. Dabi fits in his arms easily after just a bit of manipulation into a more comfortable position. Wow, he’s a lot lighter than he looks, Hawks thinks, eyebrows furrowing as he hefts Dabi up a bit closer to his body, preparing to take flight.

“I guess now you have no choice but to come with me,” He says, watching as Dabi’s head lulls to the side, unconsciously pressing into Hawks' chest, his face contorted with pain. “You’re definitely not going anywhere like this.”

But Dabi is nothing if not persistent. And amazingly stubborn.

“Put me down,” Dabi still manages to croak out, even on the precipice of unconsciousness, “I don’t need your fucking help.”

It would almost be impressive, if Hawks wasn’t so tired and desperate to get to his damn apartment already. Still, he can’t help but laugh out loud at Dabi’s tenacity. He doesn’t know when to give up, does he?

“Dude, you just went down like the goddamn Hindenburg, and you’re still fussing? Just give it up. You’re coming back to my place, and you can sleep this off. I need you alive.”

Dabi grips the front of his jacket weakly. “If you take off, I swear to god I will set the both of us on fire.”

Hawks blinks down at him. Alright. That’s it.

“For fuck’s sake,” Hawks snaps, “Well, if that’s how you’re gonna be, then you leave me no choice.”

“Wha-” Dabi doesn’t get another word in, as Hawks promptly headbutts him into silence.

“What a brat,” Hawks says aloud. With Dabi’s now fully unconscious form hanging in his arms like a limp rag, Hawks has to roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of this situation. He really should’ve just let him go.

“I’m sure this is gonna come back to bite me in the ass,” He mutters to himself as he takes flight.

It is way too quiet right now.

That is Hawks’ first conscious thought when he wakes up. The fact that he even managed to squirrel away a few hours of uninterrupted rest is already worrying in and of itself, though he’s not ungrateful for it. It’s been ages since he got a good night’s rest. Or any rest, for that matter.

Hawks’ eyes crack open and he bolts upright in bed, fully awake and immediately on his guard, still wearing his hero costume and even his boots. Though at the moment, he is glad for that, as the double doors that lead out to his balcony are still propped open, allowing the freezing morning air to filter in unencumbered into his bedroom.

He walks over and gently closes them, shivering when one final draft enters through the tiny slit in the door before he brings them together.

And now, with the doors closed tight and the noise of the city traffic below effectively blocked out and silenced, the silence throughout Hawks’ apartment is even more pronounced. And eerie.

Knowing who is sleeping just over in the next room, Hawks wasn’t sure what to expect come morning, but it definitely wasn’t this unnerving quiet.

“He’s probably still out cold,” Hawks jokes to himself, somewhat anxiously. Fuck. Thinking back on it, he did headbutt Dabi kind of hard. And for all of his attitude and apathy and hair-trigger pyromania, Dabi really isn’t all that hardy of a person, physically speaking.

Hawks makes a worried noise as he feels the small but painful bump on his own forehead. Crap. Hope I didn’t give him a concussion.

He quickly sheds his hero costume, still somewhat damp and vaguely weird-smelling from the heavy rains last night and changes into a long sleeved thermal shirt and sweats. He lets out a pleased sound as he feels some warmth immediately start to seep back into his frame.

“I wonder if he’s really still out,” He wonders out loud as he leaves the room, cracking a grin,“I bet I could just lay on him for a few minutes and not be cold anymore.”

He promptly shuts up, however, when he sees that the door to his guest bedroom is cracked open slightly. Last night was a blur, for sure, but Hawks is certain that he did close the door after depositing Dabi’s lifeless husk onto the bed and tossing a bunch of blankets over him. He looks down the hall, to the bathroom. The door is open and the light is off. He’s not there, either.

Hawks turns his attention back to the guest room, listening for any sign of the villain. Nothing.  

“Dabi?” He whispers into the thin crack in the door, “You up?”

His voice rises an octave. “You alive?”

No answer.  

“Yo!” He calls a bit louder, gently pushing the door open with a finger. “Dabi, are y- uh…”

Nervous quickly turns to annoyed. “...What the fresh fuck…” Hawks scoffs as he takes in the state of the room. The lamp and nightstand are both overturned on the floor, and the glass of water and medicine he had so kindly set out for Dabi are also on the floor, though thankfully at least the medicine is still capped and unopened. One of the fancy carved spires of the headboard has been somehow knocked clean off and is sitting next to his foot. How the hell Dabi even managed to do that, or why, is beyond Hawks. 

Also, and most notably, there is a giant burn spot in the middle of his very nice, very expensive guest mattress. Hawks’ eye starts to twitch. That mattress was almost a hundred and twenty-five thousand yen.

But amidst the surprisingly not on fire wreckage that was once his expertly decorated guest room, Dabi himself is nowhere to be found. And for that matter, neither is any of Hawks’ bedding.

Hawks blinks once. Twice.

“Did this motherfucker really just make off with all my blankets?”He asks himself, shaking his head, trying to wrap his brain around the idea, and failing. Unbelievable. “What a dick. This is what I get for trying to be nice. ”

He grumbles loudly, combing his fingers through his hair as he leaves the room. Well, Dabi was never one to show any type of consideration or respect for anyone, let alone any understanding of basic social etiquette. Hawks supposes he really shouldn’t be surprised, in that respect. It’s not like Dabi would suddenly become a considerate person just because he was sick.

But still. Did he really have to run off with all of Hawks’ extra sheets? Where the hell would he even put any of it?

Actually, he takes it back. He’s seen the state of Dabi’s so called apartment building. It’s basically condemned, and barely has power. Yeah, he figures, Dabi probably needs all those extra sheets way more than he does.

Feeling a headache coming on, Hawks decides to wash his hands of the whole situation. Dabi’s gone, so it’s no longer his concern. “Whatever, I tried. I guess it’s not my problem anymore, then.” He mutters to himself.  

He stops in the bathroom and goes about his morning routine, pushing all thought of the night before from his mind, instead focusing on what he’s going to busy himself with today. His days off are few and very, very, very far between, by his design mostly, and only really happen when his sidekicks gang up on him and bully him into taking a day off before he burns out.

He knows deep down that they’re right, but fuck. That doesn’t make it any less boring.

With a wide yawn, he leaves the bathroom, scratching under his shirt as he ambles towards the kitchen. “I guess I could just get some takeout, and catch up on that sh-fwwwahh!”

Thankfully, he lives alone, so there is no one around to hear the loud, undignified squawk Hawks lets out when he trips over something on the floor and falls face-first onto the carpeted floor.

God, if his sidekicks could’ve seen that.

Hawks knows he isn’t the most graceful creature in the morning, but he’s not messy either. Wondering just what the hell it was he tripped over, he sits up on his knees and looks back.

A black boot.

A very familiar black boot.

“Uh…”

Hawks rises to his feet, still staring down at it, puzzled. “He left without one of his shoes. Okay.”

Now mulling that over, unsure of whether he’s amused by it or not, Hawks continues on his way to the kitchen.

And it’s not long before he stumbles across the other boot. The other boot, plus Dabi’s overcoat and belt, seem to make a beeline across his carpet, past the kitchen into the living room.

Feeling a distinct heaviness beginning to weigh in his belly, Hawks pads curiously along the fabric trail, following the haphazardly discarded garments out into his living room. There he finds Dabi’s pants, sitting on the steps that lead down to the entertainment room.

Hawks’ eyebrows rise at that.

“He’s not wearing pants…?” Hawks asks aloud, hands on his hips. What the actual fuck is happening right now?

He never took Dabi for that kind of guy, yet here he is, staring down at Dabi’s dingy and ill-fitting pants, lying in a heap on the floor. Curiously, he toes at them, and Dabi’s box of cigarettes slides out of one of the pockets. The burner phone he uses to contact Hawks is already sitting some feet away, face down and probably cracked.

The window shades are all down, casting a somber but peaceful grey over the room, and, Hawks notices, the TV is on but both dimmed to the darkest setting and the volume is very low.

“Huh.”

He walks over and tugs on one of the shades, allowing some sunlight into the room.

“Close it,” A new, albeit familiar voice suddenly groans from somewhere behind him, nearly startling Hawks out of his own skin. Hawks could slap himself. He really needs his morning red bull, he thinks, because this is just shameful. Even with his quirk, he didn’t feel another presence in the room. He either needs an energy drink or he needs to go back to sleep for another twelve hours.

Slowly pulling the shade back down, Hawks chances a glance over his shoulder, looking in the direction of the couch. He already has a feeling he knows what he’s going to find. And sure enough, tucked in the L of the couch, with all of Hawks’ missing bedding piled on top of him in a giant nest of fabric, is Dabi. Although at the moment, the only way Hawks knows that it’s Dabi is by his voice, albeit much lower and more hoarse than normal, and by the familiar shock of black hair poking out from the bottom of the mound. The visible portion of his face is partially burrowed into one of the couch throw pillows. Hawks can just make out one bleary blue eye, glaring at him.  

“Close it,” Dabi mumbles again.

“I did.”

“Close it!”

“I di-- It is closed!” Hawks says loudly, pointedly motioning to the closed shade. But Dabi is already groaning exaggeratedly as he rolls over under his blanket pile, facing his back to Hawks and curling more into himself.

Hawks exhales loudly.

Oh, boy.

Briefly taking in the scene, if it were anyone else... it could almost be called cute. Like a little kid staying home from school, Dabi is all bundled up and watching infomercials on TV until the good stuff comes on. All he needs is a bowl of soup and a nice, nerdy set of pajamas.

There is a faint sense of nostalgia in it, too. Hawks used to do the same thing when he was small. Hell, he still does it now, as an adult, on those rare instances where the planets align perfectly and he allows himself to acknowledge that he’s feeling under the weather.

Although to be honest, he’s not exactly sure how he feels about having that in common with Dabi, of all people. They’re more alike than he is comfortable admitting; pushing through whatever is in their path, stubbornly trudging forward until they either overcome it by sheer willpower alone or they are overtaken by it. They’re a lot alike, he discovers more and more everyday, and it irks him.

Still, despite his feelings towards the other man, there is a weird sort of… something, to it, seeing a more vulnerable side of Mr. Big Bad Blue Fire, something that Hawks can’t quite put into words. But it’s intriguing; the man behind the villain, demystified somewhat. Under the scars and the smug attitude and flames, Dabi is still a human being, he supposes.

A human being that is still simpering and whining, even though the fucking shade is down.  

Risking Dabi’s temper in this unpredictable state, he walks over and clambers up onto the couch too, perching himself on the back of the couch with his wings draped neatly behind him.

He stares down at Dabi for a beat, shaking his head before saying, “You’re not looking too hot there, cupcake,” as he brings his legs up to his chest, balancing perfectly on the back of the couch.

He waits for a second. And then another, and then another. A full minute passes with no movement.

Hawks frowns.

Oof. No reaction to the ‘cupcake’. At all. Dabi hates nicknames, especially the purposely cutesy and condescending ones Hawks likes to give him when he feels like picking a fight. And right now, he is most definitely picking a fight, if only to get Dabi out of whatever sickness haze he’s in and to start acting more like himself.

Then at least Hawks would feel a little better, knowing it’s not really anything serious.

But Dabi doesn’t even move, let alone do what Hawks was fully hoping he’d do, which was jump up from the couch in a huffy ball of blue fire and expletives, challenging him to call him that again.

That’s not good.

They remain like that for a long while; Dabi lying down, possibly asleep, and Hawks staring down at him while twiddling his thumbs, wondering where the hell he goes from here.

He has a sick villain in his apartment. A sick, very dangerous, very wanted villain. A high-ranking member of the organization in which it is his mission to infiltrate and bring down from the inside.

Hawks cradles his head in hand, unpacking all of that in his mind. Yeah, there is a slight chance that, maybe, he did not think this through quite as much as he should have.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee,” He says out loud, more to himself than to Dabi, who he is sure probably didn’t even hear him. He doesn't even really like coffee, but he just needs something pointless and mechanical to focus on for a few minutes, so he can sort this ordeal out in his head.

This is fine, he thinks as he rips open the package of coffee grounds, this is okay. So far, it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna make a scene or anything. Hopefully, he’ll just lie on the couch all day in a borderline coma, and if he’s conscious by tonight, I can maybe sneak him out. Of course, I'll need to blindfold him or something, so he doesn’t know where I live… fuck. I didn’t even think of that.

Hawks freezes, mid-scoop. How the hell had that not occurred to him before? That bringing Dabi up to his apartment would mean letting the villain know where he lived, giving him and the League an extra advantage over him?

Last night he had been so focused on not leaving Dabi half-dead on the street, that he didn’t think of the consequences his little act of kindness could bring for him in the immediate future. And just now, he had been so focused on finding Dabi that he didn't realize that the other man trashing his guest room and passing out on his couch instead was actually the best possible case scenario he could have hoped for in this situation. The last thing he needs, he realizes in a cold sweat, is Dabi, whose face is extremely recognizable, wandering around his apartment building, deliriously sick and liable to cause all sorts of mayhem.  

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” He chants to himself. But what if he was up at night when I was asleep, checking out the surroundings? He continues setting the coffee maker to boil.

Hawks looks back over his shoulder, out over the island and into the living room, where the top of Dabi’s blanket mound is just barely visible.

Then again, he’s so out of it right now, and was last night, too. I mean, I can’t imagine another reason he’d trash the guest room, other than he woke up and was disoriented and freaked out.

“Nah, he couldn't have. Not in his condition.”

He barely made it to the living room, let alone outside or to the windows. Surveillance is the last thing on his mind, right now. Hawks stares at the coffee as it drip, drip, drips down into the coffee pot, condensation beginning to form on the outside from the heat. It’s weirdly calming.

Hawks sighs to himself.

Well, I guess it’s too late to worry about that now. What’s done is done. For now, I just have to figure out how to work this situation to my advantage.

Hawks ceases his mental calculating when he feels a certain vibration ripple through his smaller feathers, along with the near silent rustle of fabric along the kitchen's tiles behind him. At least this time, Dabi doesn’t surprise him. Although, he has to admit, how Dabi manages to move so quietly even while sick to point of delirium is quite impressive.

“Is it ready yet?” He hears the other man ask over his shoulder.

“You were awake?”

“Mmn. Barely.”

Hawks turns, and almost can’t believe his eyes.

Wow.

Dabi, to be blunt, looks like a straight up corpse that was freshly rolled out of a grave. His eyes are glassy and squinted somewhat, sensitive to the light in the kitchen, and his skin, the parts that aren’t scarred and unhealthy, are so pale he looks almost otherworldly. Save for his nose, which is a little pink around the nostrils. And, just like last night, he still seems unsteady on his feet; there is a noticeable side to side sway as Dabi stands there, eyes unfocused.

Still, Hawks can’t fight the smile that is creeping onto his face. When he first met Dabi, never did he imagine that one day in the near future, that same smug, lying bastard face would be in his kitchen, staring back at him while cocooned in what Hawks is sure is no less than ten different blankets and bed sheets. Currently, the entire bottom half of Dabi’s face is covered, allowing Hawks to only really see him from the nose up.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.”

Hawks snorts to himself as he turns back to the coffee pot, shutting it off after it chimes. “I didn’t even think you got cold.”

“When I’m sick, I do.” Dabi says, without much fanfare. Huh. It’s a little unnerving, Dabi giving straight answers, for once. He’s certainly being a lot more forthcoming than last night, that’s for sure.

Ah, the straightforwardness that comes with realization and the cessation of denial.

“Is it ready?” Dabi asks, already reaching for the coffee pot.

“Yeah, it’s rea- Hey! What the fuck are you doing, you lunatic?!”

Hawks quickly but carefully wrestles the still scalding hot coffee pot out of Dabi’s bare hands, managing to catch him just seconds before he upends the open pot over his face and into his mouth.

“I’m cold,” Dabi moans, glaring at him. Hawks glares back in disbelief.

“Okay, can I put the shit in a cup first? God!” Still holding the coffee pot tightly by the handle, Hawks shoves past Dabi to get to the cupboard and pulls out two mugs.

“This ain’t Game of Thrones, you fucking jackass,” Hawks snaps as he pours the coffee out into the mugs, “You're not a dragon. And you don't need anymore third degree burns.”

Dabi mumbles something rude but thankfully unintelligible as he lumbers closer, still keeping a tight grip on the blankets around him.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” He mutters as he bumps Hawks out of his way, “Move. I want coffee.”

He swipes one of the mugs before Hawks can even protest --that was his mug-- and does exactly what he had intended to do before: he chugs the piping hot liquid so fast he upends the mug over his face, eyes rolling shut blissfully. He doesn’t even stop to breathe.

Hawks watches the scene with saucer-wide eyes, and silently accepts the empty mug back when Dabi hands it to him some ten odd seconds later, a sated little grin on his face.

“I… stand corrected…” Hawks says in shock. Did he even feel that? Hawks has so many questions. But right now, he only settles for a few. “You good now?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Are you still cold?”

“M’no.”

Hawks slowly raises a finger and points over to the couch. “Will you go back to sleep now?”

Dabi follows his finger. “Mm-hm,” He mumbles before he abruptly turns and ambles out of the kitchen. Hawks watches him go, not quite believing how easy of an interaction that was. Dabi and easy are two words that don’t belong in the same sentence. Ever.

He watches him go until he sees Dabi tumble face first down onto the couch. Hawks listens for a few seconds, to the rustle of sheets and blankets and Dabi’s little muttered curses as he makes himself comfortable in his blanket nest again.

When he finally settles down, Hawks lets out a loud exhale, allowing himself to take a sip of his now warm coffee.

He doesn’t like coffee all that much, but still, he already recognizes this as a rare moment of peace; one of the few, if any, he’s going to get today, so he takes advantage of it.

Halfway through the cup, he hears Dabi groaning from the living room and rolls his eyes. Rare, and so very, very brief.

He sets the cup down on the counter loudly.

What now?  

                                                                  1.

Hawks learns early on that Dabi is capricious by nature.

He often wonders if it’s a villain thing or a Dabi thing to be as fickle and unhinged as he is; probably both. So when Dabi unexpectedly grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him into a bar, Hawks decides it’s not worth the effort to fight it. He’d been in a sour mood for most of the night, for reasons which remain a mystery to Hawks, given that Dabi is not much of a sharer.

But now, two hours in and an untold number of tequila shots later, Dabi seems to be in much higher spirits and is once again tugging at his sleeve-- this time they’re headed for the bathroom.

“If you stretch my sleeve out you’re buying me a new jacket,” Hawks mutters. It barely registers over the booming bass coming from the stage at the other end of the bar, and Dabi doesn’t react, so Hawks assumes his complaint went unheard.

They’re barely in the door before Dabi grabs him by the collar and shoves him into one of the stalls. Between the four of them: Dabi, Hawks, and both of his human-sized wings, it’s cramped as all hell in the tiny stall but that makes no nevermind to Dabi, who looks wicked and determined.

“Here ?” Is the only thing Hawks can say when Dabi bites at his lips. Dabi likes to kiss with teeth.

“Yeah.”

This is a popular bar. It’s crowded. There’s people walking in and out of the bathroom as they speak; some laughing, some puking, some thoroughly wasted. Hawks flushes, arousal and anxiety growing the more packed the bathroom gets. He’s not known for his expert silence during sex, and the walls in this bathroom are the kind that carry sound a little too well.

His only saving grace is that, whether for ambiance or frugality, the lighting in here is shit. No one would be sober enough to recognize his silhouette.

“People are gonna hear us, you know.” He whispers.

Dabi kisses him deep and slow, completely unguarded as he wraps an arm around Hawks’ neck. He tastes like a night full of bad decisions. He can feel Dabi smiling against his mouth between kisses and nips, but he doesn’t say anything for a long while. Gradually, his free arm slides down his back, the heat enough to set his feathers quivering against the cold stall wall, over his hip, down between them to cup the prominent bulge in Hawks’ pants.

Dabi is capricious. He lives and fucks like he has nothing to lose.

“Then we’ll make it good for them, too.” He finally says.

And, fuck, it is impossible to say no to him when he starts to sink to his knees, looking up at Hawks with those cold blue eyes as he tugs his zipper down.

Hawks huffs, resigning himself to a blowjob in a dirty toilet stall in a shady bar. This isn’t how he used to spend his Thursdays.

“Or...we can go back to your place, if you’d prefer?” Dabi says with a teasing smile. Hawks glares back down at him. Like hell I’m going anywhere like this. His cock is rock hard in Dabi’s warm hand, and the warmer it gets, the more of a fog Hawks’ mind falls into.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dabi says quietly, laughing. Hawks doesn’t care enough to respond. He leans back against the stall wall, sighing every ounce of tension out of his body as his eyes slide shut. It’s been a long week, and right now, the thought of his cock in Dabi’s mouth is the only thing that is keeping his mood and stress above water.

It’s funny to him how Dabi is both the main source of his stress and the relief at the same time.  

He tamps down a throaty moan when Dabi takes the tip in his mouth way too tenderly, gently flicking and circling his tongue over the tip for a bit before taking it a little deeper. The wet sounds of Dabi’s mouth moving over his cock seem to reverberate in the present quiet of the small bathroom.

Right now, it’s empty, so Hawks allows the soft groan that’s been building in the back of his throat to finally escape. Dabi hums around his cock in response, quickening the pace.

“Fu-fuck, Dabi…” Hawks grunts when Dabi takes his full length in his mouth, mouth vacuum tight around his cock. His leg jolts when Dabi releases him with a wet, lewd pop, taking some time instead to suck one of his balls.

His phone starts vibrating in his pocket. It is then that Hawks vaguely remembers that he is still technically on duty, so he’s obligated to check who it is that’s calling. But just as his hand starts to slide into his pocket, Dabi licks up the underside of his dick so torturously slow that all conscious thought leaves him in that moment.

“God, Dabi, I love your fuckin’ mouth,” He moans out loud, the words not coming from his brain, but from every inch, every nerve in his body.

“Yeah, I know you do.” Dabi says with a chuckle before leaning back in to finish him off.

“Do the thing, pl-please,” Hawks begs-- he absolutely hates hearing the need in his tone, but he needs to end this week on a high note, and there is no higher note than the sheer euphoria that comes with the orgasm that Dabi can give him.

“Man, the live band is really awesome tonight, what’s the na-”

Fuck. Some guys just walked in, disrupting the perfect heat and tension in the room. But it’s only for a second. Dabi has him fully in his mouth again, his cockhead hitting the back of his throat hard and fast, and he knows Dabi heard him. He knows Dabi knows what he needs.

If they hear him come, oh fucking well.

Truth be told, his body has been aching for this for weeks, and it will not be denied for a second longer.

“Yo, shh… I think someone’s getting blown in one of the stalls…” Hawks overhears one of them say. He could laugh. That’s putting it pretty fucking mildly, he’d say.  

The cat calls start not long after, but Hawks is too far gone to be irritated by it. If anything, it only adds to the mood.

“Suck him good, baby,” One of them says, and he can feel Dabi pause. He slowly pulls back, giving Hawks’ cock a teasing lick.

“Oh, I am,” He calls back, effectively silencing the lot of them, “Now either shut up or fuck off.”

Hawks loves the silence that follows. He’s not sure if they’re still there or not, but he could care less.

Dabi takes him by the tip again, head bobbing good and slow over the turgid flesh. Hawks’ hand flies into Dabi’s hair on reflex, wordlessly begging for that sweet heat. And Dabi always obliges him, if only to hold it over his head later.

His mouth falls open, letting his shuddered and uneven breaths come out unhindered. Dabi’s mouth starts to get hotter as the seconds go by. He doesn’t alter his pace, keeping Hawks on a smooth, slow gradient. But his mouth is fit tight around his reddened cockhead, his soft moans as he moves sending pulses up Hawks’ body as the temperature rises.

Dabi has truly mastered every aspect of his quirk. Hawks both loves and hates how impressive his control is. Both over his quirk, and over both of their bodies.

His climax is not silent, and it’s not gentle.

He chants Dabi’s name over and over again, gripping Dabi’s hair and the stall wall behind him hard as his body spasms and twitches in Dabi’s grip. Dabi keeps blowing him even after he’s spent, relishing in the squeaks and pitchy whines Hawks lets out at the overstimulation. His mouth is still so deliciously hot as it moves over his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so good…” He purrs, delirious with bliss and very, very drunk. Dabi finally lets him go after a few minutes, but not completely. He licks and kisses along Hawks’ cock, from the still oozing tip to the thick vein along the underside.

“...Damn… Can I get next?”   The person in the next stall suddenly says.

That's the first and only time Hawks ever sees Dabi genuinely laugh.

                                                                                                                      2.

Turns out, the call he had ignored was from his overlords at the hero commission. And come the next morning, they are none too pleased with him and his spectacular lack of reportable intel.

“How close do you think you are to gaining entry into the league?”

Hawks sighs. “Frankly, not any closer than I was last time. My, uh-” His cock is still pleasantly sore from the searing blowjob Dabi gave him last night, and it takes a lot of focus for him not to zone out thinking about Dabi and his hellishly hot mouth around his cock.

“-my liaison in the league isn’t known for his… what’s the word I’m looking for here… his, uh, chattiness ,” Hawks helps himself to the glass of water one of the secretaries set down for him. “It’s taking a little longer to crack him than I anticipated.”

His phone buzzes twice while his boss continues to lay out their plans for the league. Hawks discreetly peaks at the screen.

Speak of the devil.

Where r u

Rude. Hawks scoffs as he quickly types a reply.

Busy rn ill text u later

“Hawks, did you hear a word I just said?”

Hawks quickly snaps back to attention. “Yes ma’am. Sorry, got a text from one of my sidekicks. Nothing serious.”

She looks unconvinced, but lets it slide. “Fine.”

His phone buzzes again a few minutes later.

Does it look like i can wait til later?

      (1) New image  

He shouldn’t open it. Not here, not now. Hawks knows this. This would be the literal worst possible time to see whatever it is Dabi sent him. He knows it’s probably dirty, probably a little x-rated.

And yet, here he is, with his finger still hovering dangerously over the attachment.

Hawks chews his lip. Fuck it.

He opens it. Dabi’s unfairly pretty blue eyes stare back at him, looking incredibly smug for someone who clearly has no clothes on. He’s lying on his stomach, butt naked. From the angle he took the picture at, Hawks can only get a small glimpse of that tight, pert ass over Dabi’s shoulder, but he’s sure that was the point. Dabi only ever shows enough to entice. To incite a reaction.

He’s definitely gotten what he wanted, in that regard.

“Motherfuck,” Hawks pants out loud. Luckily for him, everyone is listening rapt to the presentation and no one hears him. He studies the picture a little more, drinking in the little subtleties. Dabi looks damp, his hair hanging more in his face than usual and curling at the ends. Droplets of water are visible on his bare arms and the top of his chest.

Now it’s Hawks turn to ask.

Where r u?

But after he sends the text, he stares at the picture, sharp eyes zeroing in on a very familiar sight. That plaque on the wall behind Dabi is all too familiar. Because Hawks’ name is on it.

And Dabi’s response confirms what Hawks already knows.

I'm in your room. Hurry up and get here.

Another text comes before Hawks has a chance to fully process the first.

I’ve been lying here fingering myself for the past half hour. Prepping for you.

Hawks can’t help but smile at the marked change in grammar and punctuation that takes place when Dabi sexts him. It’s kind of cute.

Oh yeah? He texts back, Are you nice and stretched for me?  

He can feel his cock starting to harden in his pants. Shit.

Dabi’s next text gets him rock solid. He can practically see the smirk on Dabi’s face as he types it out.

No resistance.

“Sorry to interrupt everyone, but I have an emergency that just came up.” Pfff. Understatement of the fuckin’ year.

He waves off their protests and races out of the room without looking back once. He doesn’t bother with the stairs or elevators. Instead, he pushes open a nearby window and jumps out, letting the wind catch his wings. His place is a ways off from this building, but he’s a fast flyer, especially when something worth the strain he puts on his wings is waiting for him.

Because when Dabi says ‘no resistance’, he isn’t just talking about his body.

***********

“I was in a meeting.”

“Don’t care.”

“It was important .”

“And yet here you are, in bed with me.”

Hawks grins against Dabi’s skin, gives it a slow lingering kiss, savoring the tingling in his lips from the warmth. “What can I say? You’re very persuasive. I saved that selfie, by the way. In case I ever need to blackmail you.”

Dabi groans something unintelligible into one of the pillows as Hawks rolls his hips once last time before finally pulling out and lying down next to him on the damps sheets. They lie in comfortable silence for a bit, each coming down from their climaxes, letting their bodies cool off. Hawks’ eyes fall shut and he slings an arm over his eyes with a satisfied sigh.

“I needed that,” He says after a while. His hand moves from its resting place on his stomach, slides down his front to reach for his cock. He tugs the condom off gently and ties it off before tossing it vaguely in the direction of his waste bin. It lands on the floor instead.  

Dabi mumbles something in agreement before shifting to a more comfortable position. Well, about as comfortable as he can get really; Hawks’ feathers are tight around his wrists and wrapped around the metal bars of Hawks’ headboard. The bright red against black lacquered metal quickly reminds the both of them of Dabi’s current captivity.

“Are you gonna take these off of me any time soon?”

“What’s the matter sugar , are they too tight?”

He gets the reaction he was hoping for. Dabi turns to him slowly, eyes sharp and irritated behind heavy lids.

“They’re fine. And don’t call me that again.”

Hawks chuckles, biting his lip. He fishes around under the sheet, feeling for the tiny remote that had gotten lost in the midst of the vicious, frantic fucking that had taken place not twenty minutes ago.

“You’re tied to my bed, Dabi,” Hawks says when he finally finds it. He taps “ON” and dials it up to the second setting. Immediately, a soft buzzing whirs from underneath Dabi’s body, and the other man hisses a curse. “I don’t think you’re really in any position to be telling me what do right now.”

He dials it up to three as he lies back, propping himself up on his side. “You bought this ticket, now you’re taking the fuckin’ ride.”

Four.

Dabi’s already panting softly and writhing at the suddenly way too intense stimulation; Hawks licks his lips with a pleased noise as he watches Dabi’s hips start to grind into the mattress. But the bullet strapped to the underside of his cockhead isn’t going to be moved so easily. He made sure of that.

“Fuck,” Dabi moans, his voice rising a couple of octaves. But Hawks can see the smile on his face as he struggles against the intense sensations. He loves this.

“Want it higher?”

Dabi mumbles something that barely sounds human, let alone Japanese. Hawks leans over and gives him a swift slap on the ass. He never thought he’d see the day where he got to hear Dabi, serial arsonist and murderer, leader of the Vanguard Squad of the League of Villains, and Shigaraki Tomura’s right-hand man, yelp like a child, but since they started hooking up, it’s become a sound that Hawks is not only familiar with, it’s one that goes straight to his cock every single time. He strokes himself a few times as he sits up and walks in his knees to seat himself between Dabi's spread thighs. It doesn’t take much effort to get himself fully hard again. Dabi makes for a hell of a sight.

“Words, Dabi. Use your words.” He instructs as he rips open another condom and slides it on.

Dabi licks his lips. “Ye...yes. Higher. Please.”

Hawks shuts it off instead.

The feathers around Dabi’s wrists come undone briefly, if only long enough for Hawks to immediately grab him and roughly flip him over onto his back. They return to their previous position as Hawks makes himself comfortable between Dabi’s spread legs. He scoots in closer and pulls Dabi’s legs further apart, one resting on each side of him and giving him full access to any and every part of Dabi’s body he wants tease.

“That's better,” He says with a chuckle and dials the bullet up from “OFF” all the way to seven.

The noises Dabi lets out are primal.

Hawks strokes himself in time with Dabi’s harsh pants, letting his free hand caress over Dabi’s thighs, his abs, down to fondle his balls, and finally back up to ghost over his cock. Not that that needs any extra help. It’s thick and purpled, and pre-come is already leaking out onto his stomach.

“God, Dabi, you look so fucking hot right now,” Hawks whispers as he reaches for the lube sitting off to the side. He squirts a bit on his fingers and rolls them around to coat evenly.

No resistance. Those are Hawks' favorite words.

He loves the way Dabi’s back arches up off the bed as he slides a finger inside him, his name coming out like a breathy sigh. Hawks likes this side of Dabi the most; the pliant, primal, submissive side, the side that likes to lose itself in pure sensation, in pure ecstasy. Nothing else matters, if only for a while.

He slides a second finger in as he dials it up to eight.

“God, Hawks,” Dabi moans loud, breathing ragged and uneven as his body shudders and squirms and he rolls his hips in Hawks’ grip, wordlessly pleading for the slightest touch. Hawks swears he could blow another load from hearing Dabi say his name like that alone. It won’t be much longer until he loses control and gives in to the urge to plow right back into that perfect, addictive heat, but he staves it off a little longer. Watching Dabi unravel is half the fun, after all.

When he dials it all the way up to the highest setting, Dabi screams bloody murder.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” He chants over and over,  furiously tapping his hand on the bed. Hawks grins down at him and shuts the bullet off. Dabi moans hoarsely as his head falls back onto the pillow, his entire body visibly unclenching and relaxing into the soft mattress. “Holy shit,” He pants out, trying to catch his breath.

“Aww,” Hawks coos, raking his fingernails up the inside of one of Dabi’s thighs, thoroughly pleased at the violent shiver that travels up the other man’s body at the sensation, “Had to tap out on me, Dabi?”

Dabi tries to kick him. Or at least, that’s what Hawks thinks he’s trying to do, as the only thing Dabi can really manage at the moment is a mumbled curse and a weak spasm of his leg.

“That one...that one is way stronger than the other one,” Dabi chokes out after a minute or two, “I need a few minutes.”

Hawks sits up on his knees and stretches out on top of Dabi, hands on either side of his head.

“Gimme a kiss,” Hawks says quietly.

Dabi leans up obediently, or as much as he can with his hands still bound, still breathing hard and struggling against Hawks’ feather bindings. “Come closer, asshole,” He mutters, trying a few times in vain to reach Hawks, who keeps playfully rearing up out of range. Dabi growls, frustrated, and starts snapping, trying bite instead of kiss.

“Whoa, easy,” Hawks chides, licking his lips, and then he leans down to lick Dabi’s, too. The second their lips brush, Dabi’s mouth falls open and the other man quickly flicks his tongue against Hawks’.

“Want it back on?” He murmurs against Dabi’s lips, licks at them again. Underneath him, Dabi groans and shifts, grinding against him as he wraps his legs loosely around Hawks’ waist.

What he wants doesn’t need to be said.

Hawks fucks into him slow as they continue to kiss and tease, indolent tongues and teeth tasting and biting at the other’s lips and jaws. Sliding inside of Dabi is like sliding into a hot bath; the heat is all-encompassing and travels up his core, up his spine, to every single hair and cell of his body, up to his heart and jars its rhythm. It’s quickly become one of Hawks’ vices, and one that has him in a death grip.

The instant the bullet comes back on, the pace grows feverish. Hawks feels a little lightheaded from the heat in the room; his forehead and back are damp with sweat and beneath him, Dabi’s body is covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, too. But the drag of his slicked cock moving in and out of Dabi’s ass, the low hum of the bullet vibrating between them, steadily growing louder as Hawks dials it back up, and Dabi groaning his name, voice breaking and his body arching against his own… it’s all maddening. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he thinks.

He lets the feathers come undone and hauls Dabi up onto his lap, pulling him flush against him and crushing their lips together. Dabi barely puts up a struggle, even as Hawks roughly yanks his long legs and secures them around his waist. Being the taller of the two doesn’t mean much, they both realized early on. Dabi may have height, firepower, and an attitude problem, but not much else. Hawks is stronger, much more powerful, body rough-hewn from hero work, and he loves to remind Dabi of that fact every time they fuck.

Dabi leans in his ear. “Oi, your phone’s ringing.”

Hawks responds by sitting up on his knees and hoisting Dabi up higher, grip firm on his thighs and ass as he bounces him on his cock.

“Fuck it,” Hawks grunts as he thrusts hard up into Dabi, “It can wait.”

It keeps buzzing on Hawks’ nightstand, but it barely registers when Hawks dials the bullet back up to max.

*******

“I called you four times last night,” Miruko says loudly when he meets her for breakfast the next morning, their weekly tradition. “Where the hell were ya?”

“I turned in early last night,” Hawks lies smoothly. Too smoothly, he thinks with a grimace. It’s become second nature.

“You? Sleepin’ early ?” Miruko parrots as she stares at him, unconvinced, “You sick or somethin’?”

Hawks shakes his head, stifling a yawn. “Nah, I’ve just been going a little too hard lately, maybe.”

That’s a definite understatement, he thinks to himself. Too hard is right. His entire body is still sore from the ridiculous, straight-out-of-the Kama Sutra position they finished each other off in. His lips snag his bottom lip as the events of the night before play on a reel in his mind. God, that orgasm was more than worth the effort and the soreness. Dabi rides dick like no one else Hawks has ever had. It’s a little unfair. Hawks knows he’s good, but Dabi is like a divine being when he’s on top.

His cock twitches to life in his pants and Hawks flushes. This is really not the time to be thinking about this.

He tucks into food with forced vigor, eating quietly as Miruko recants the story of her latest criminal conquest, dropping in the odd “wow” and “you’re amazing, dude” at the appropriate times, but inside his head, he’s miles away, back up in his apartment with Dabi wrapped around him.

                                                              3.

It’s been nearly three weeks since the last time they hooked up, hell, since the last time he saw or heard from Dabi period, and Hawks is irritated and, if he’s honest with himself, embarrassed, by how on edge he’s been since then. His leg is bouncing under his desk at a hundred miles an hour, and has been for most of the time he’s been sitting.

His sidekicks are giving their reports on pending cases and cleanups, but Hawks just can’t seem to focus on anything anyone is saying.

“Hawks, sir?”

“What?” He snaps. His sidekicks all jump back at his tone. Hawks is a tough boss to work for, but he’s never once yelled at his sidekicks. He sighs apologetically, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands.

“Sorry,” He mumbles. “I’m not feeling like myself tonight. I didn’t mean to take it out on you all. Sorry.”

One of his sidekicks hazards a step forward. “Uh, should we, um… should we give you the rest of the stats and stuff later?”

Hawks inhales deeply, lets it back out. “...Yeah,” He nods after a brief pause, “That would be better. Give me ten minutes.”

They all nod in affirmation before filtering out of his office one by one. Hawks pays no mind to the hushed chatter or concerned looks over their shoulders as they leave. When his office is empty, Hawks stands up from his desk with a tired groan, stretches his arms up until his back cracks as he crosses to the other side of the room, and flings himself face first down onto his couch.

“Fuck this,” He mutters into the couch cushion.

He lies there for a long time, unmoving, just breathing and thinking. Thinking about nothing in particular, about everything.

His phone buzzes loudly over on his desk just as he starts to drift off, and Hawks considers just letting it ring. But he’s gotten yelled at enough lately for missing important calls, and he’s over that. He pushes himself up off the couch, cursing softly to himself. It stops ringing the second he reaches his desk and picks it up.

                                              (1) Missed Call from:

                                           Crispy Bacon McMurder

Hawks snorts, his mood instantly lifting. Oh boy, if only Dabi could see his nickname in Hawks’ phone. He’d roast him alive.

Hawks hits redial, waits for a few seconds. Dabi finally answers on the third ring. Over time, Hawks has learned to differentiate regular, moody Dabi from genuine emotion Dabi. Dabi’s face isn’t nearly as expressive as his tone.

“Where are you?”   Tonight, he sounds annoyed.

Nonetheless, Hawks cradles his phone in the crook of his neck as he leans against his desk, folding his arms across his chest. He hasn’t exactly been shooting rainbows out of his ass either, and he’s in no mood for Dabi’s bitchiness tonight. “Tch, hello to you, sunshine.”

Over the line, he hears Dabi suck his teeth.

“I’m working.”

“You on patrol?”

“No, I’m at the agency, finishing up some paperwork right now. Is this League business or you business?”  

Silence on the other end.

Hawks waits, listening to Dabi’s quiet breathing on the other end. After a beat, Dabi sighs and chuckles, his low, smooth baritone enticing and disarming, no matter the tone in it. Hawks feels a smile pulling at his mouth. He shakes his head at himself.

Dare he say it, he actually kind of missed Dabi over these past few weeks.

“I guess it’s a little of both, ” He finally says, his tone taking on a lighter, more playful edge. Hawks wets his lips, smile growing a little more. He likes it when Dabi gets playful. He can’t even really explain why, beyond the obvious reason that he’s sure he’s going to get laid at some point in the near future. Right now, that’s enough for him to go on. He’s running on fumes.

“Wanna meet up somewhere?”

“Yeah.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door.

“Okay. The usual place, ten minutes.” He mutters quickly into the phone and hangs up just as one of his sidekicks pokes his head back in. “Listen,” He interjects before the guy has a chance to even greet him, “I’m gonna head out really quick. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Oh, uh, but-”

“I’ll hear the rest of the stats later.” Hawks says impatiently as he shucks his coat on and adjusts the collar, along with his visor.

“Is this something you need help with? One of us can accompany you if you want, sir.” His sidekick calls out after him.

Hawks doesn’t even turn back. “Nah, this is something I need to do alone. Later.”

********

The warehouse is a bittersweet place for Hawks. Coming here always makes him uneasy, but it’s the most convenient place for both of them, equidistant from Hawks’ agency and from Dabi’s-- the League’s-- hideout, though the exact location is, as of yet, unknown to Hawks.

Dabi is already waiting for him when he gets there exactly ten minutes later on the dot, leaning against a large crate and halfway through what is probably his second or third cigarette. He blends into the darkness like a bad dream, the only hint that he’s there is his eyes shining and the orange tip of the cigarette as he inhales.

He looks so fucking good right now.

And frankly, Hawks had intended to talk League business first; he told himself over and over on the way that his mission must always take priority. It’s a talk he’s had with himself many times since meeting Dabi, and it’s gone out the window virtually every time once things got physical.

And tonight, he concedes, defeated, will be no different.

The second they lock eyes, Dabi smirks at him and he flicks his cigarette away, his eyes flashing with an intensity that pushes what little rational thought that is left out of Hawks’ mind as he closes the distance between them.

Coats and shirts begin to litter the floor within minutes of their heated collision, the both of them needy and eager. And pressed for time. Hawks can feel it in the way Dabi claws at him more desperately than usual, hands roving over every inch of skin he can get his hands on, greedily drinking in his moans as they kiss hard.    

A few more minutes , Hawks thinks. He’ll allow himself a few more minutes and then it’s down to business.

But then Dabi moans something filthy in his ear and then starts to suck at his bottom lip. Fuck it. That’s also something Hawks finds himself saying and thinking often, nowadays. His sidekicks will just have to wait for him, for once.

He immediately shoves Dabi hard up against one of the man-sized crates, fumbling with both of their belts.

“We gotta do this quick,” He says between grunts and kisses.

“I know,” Dabi responds with equal fervor, already shoving his pants and boxers down.

“Give me the lube.”

Dabi pauses to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t have any lube.”

Hawks freezes. “Shit, me neither.”

The two of them stand there for a beat, staring at each before finally, Dabi’s head falls back against the crate, a rueful smile on his face. “Well, fuck us.”

Hawks leans in and kisses him deep. Despite the time crunch, it’s slow and languid and deliciously warm. Fuck it. Seriously. He’s been so high-strung these past few weeks, he needs this. It doesn’t have to be full-on sex, he just wants to be close to Dabi for a bit. And clearly, Dabi is having similar thoughts.

The other man cups his face, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Between them, his hand creeps down and brushes over Hawks’ bare cock, stroking it.

“Mm,” Hawks moans low when he pulls away briefly. He mimics Dabi and takes his cock in his hand, stroking it in time with Dabi’s hand.

“I can get by with a handy,” Dabi says against his lips, “For now, anyway.”

Hawks chuckles. “Yeah.”

By the time their paces reach fever pitch, his phone is already buzzing in his back pocket, his sidekicks wondering where the hell their boss has run off to, no doubt. People really have the worst timing, Hawks thinks. But their passionate fervor makes quick work of the both of them. Dabi groans into his neck just as it stops, coming in a few quick spurts into his hand, Hawks’ name falling way too softly from his lips. Hawks had finished only seconds before, and is still coming down from his own orgasm as he brings Dabi to his.

The two of them take a brief moment of respite, kissing and touching, basking in the altogether much too brief afterglow their respective obligations allow them.

“So,” Hawks begins after some time, pulling away to make himself decent, “What did you want to tell me?”

Dabi is already dressed again and lighting up another cigarette, back to his usual aloof self. The only evidence of what just transpired between them is the faint flush of his face and his ears, and his still somewhat heavy breathing.

God, if only they had the time. The things he would do to Dabi all over this dirty warehouse.  

“I have some exciting news,” Dabi says, exhaling smoke in a thin tendril, “Boss wants to meet you.”

Hawks pauses. “Really?”

“Yeah, Hawks. Really.”

“When?”

Dabi shrugs. “Dunno yet. He just happened to mention it the other day, and asked me to pass the message along. But relatively soon, I figure.”

Dabi pauses to take a long drag. “He’s got some plans in the works, currently,” He says before exhaling the thick plume all in one shot, “and he’s gonna need someone on the inside. He’s ready to give you a chance to prove yourself and your loyalty to our cause.”

Hawks remains silent, contemplating Dabi’s words --and the thinly veiled threat in his tone.

“What do you think?”

Dabi takes one last puff before flicking his cigarette butt away. “What do I think of what?”

“Do you think I’ve proven myself?”

Dabi doesn’t respond right away, instead taking the time that they don’t have to calmly finish his cigarette. Hawks quickly gets the sense that Dabi is purposely letting him dangle, relishing the suspense. There’s always time to see someone squirm, as far as Dabi is concerned.

He only gives in after Hawks make an impatient noise and shrugs his coat on with more force than necessary. “I told him that we can trust you.” Dabi says quietly, pushing himself up off the crate and once again closing the distance between them, this time with none of the urgency from before.

Dabi cups his neck, thumb over Hawks’ jaw tenderly. Or at least, there is an illusion of tenderness. Dabi’s eyes have taken on that cold, hard edge that sinks like a stone in Hawks’ stomach.

“I can trust you, right?”

He’s gotten way too good at lying lately.

“...Yes, Dabi. You have my loyalty. I swear.”

Dabi presses his forehead against Hawks'. It's much too affectionate, Hawks thinks, starting to feel anxious. Certainly much too out of character for Dabi. Hawks swallows hard, hoping Dabi can't feel how tense he is. He can handle bitchy. He can handle needy and horny. Hell, he can handle rage and he could handle it if Dabi had his hand on his throat to choke the life out of him. But this is the one version of Dabi he hasn't trained himself to handle yet: vulnerable. And because of that, this is the most dangerous version.

Because nothing is ever off the table with Dabi, especially when his guard is down. He knows how fickle Dabi can be, after all.  

The other man closes his eyes, sighing as he brushes their noses together. His warm hand is still firm on Hawks' neck, easing the tension in Hawks' neck and shoulders.

Again, Hawks positively hates how Dabi can be both the source of his stress and the source of his relief from that stress.

"Good, because I want you with us when we make our move," Dabi says quietly. His grip tightens slightly, massaging into Hawks' skin.

"Don't ever betray me, little bird."  

And with that, he pulls away completely and departs without another word, leaving Hawks vulnerable to the sudden and intense chill that passes through the empty warehouse; though, Hawks can't quite say how much of it is simply the night breeze and how much is his nerves fraying at the ends.

He takes flight not long after Dabi leaves, the other man's words still echoing in his head as he lands on the roof of his agency, where a few of his lead sidekicks are already waiting for him.

Don't ever betray me, little bird.