Chapter Text
It’s taken a few weeks, but Dabi finally knows what about Hawks makes him want to punch a wall. It’s the laugh that he knows it fake but has somehow managed to fool everyone else, the smile that’s been so obviously crafted for camera flashes and autograph signing, and the way his wings always seem tense like he’s ready to take off or throw a razor-sharp feather at the slightest sign of danger.
For some reason that Dabi can’t even begin to explain, all of that pisses him off to no degree. It shouldn’t- after all, what else is he supposed to expect from a hero pretending to side with villains, because there’s no way his story about being tired of doing what he’s told could possibly be true- but every smile and laugh leaves Dabi sick to his stomach.
He feels like he could reach out and fix Hawks’ expressions, bring them down from the larger-than-life showing and turn them into something smaller and private. Something real. But if he did, that would be crossing some line that he doesn’t know how to name. For now, he's able to control himself, able to endure the ever-growing urge to make Hawks be genuine for once.
Dabi’s breaking point comes, inevitably, after a fight.
He shouldn’t be surprised that Hawks is so reckless. He’s a hero that's slowly starting to move and talk like someone that’s reached the end of their rope; a person just barely managing to keep their balance as they stand on the edge of who they were and who they’ve desperately made themself to be.
It’s making him a danger to himself and the rest of the League, and Dabi should start the process of convincing Shigaraki to kick him and his feathers to the curb. But, for some reason, he can’t. Something twists in his chest whenever he thinks about it, leaving him more frustrated than anything else.
And now, as he watches Hawks drag himself into the safe house, his left wing bent at a painful angle and his right one pulled in far too tightly against his back, Dabi feels something boil over. Anger isn’t the right word; what he’s feeling is more desperate and raw than anger, something closer to anticipated grief after watching Hawks get almost permanently grounded in the name of the League he’s pretending to give a shit about.
He should talk some sense into the bird.
Dabi doesn’t really think before grabbing Hawks’ arm and dragging him towards the stairs, ignoring the other’s incredibly confused, “What the hell?!” He just shoves Hawks into the first open door he sees, barely taking notice of the fact that he chose someone’s bedroom for this talk before he shuts and locks it. “Seriously, Dabs, what the fuck?” Hawks asks.
He sounds annoyed, his feathers puffed up just slightly. And, honestly, where does he find the audacity to be annoyed with Dabi when he’s the one that’s been infuriating this whole time? He could at least have some damn self-awareness.
“Just shut the fuck up already,” Dabi says, his grip on the doorknob tightening before he forces himself to let go. He’d prefer to not accidentally melt it off because he’s too emotional to control himself.
For a few blissful seconds, Hawks seems to actually listen to him, and Dabi feels like he can finally breathe.
It doesn’t last, of course.
Dabi hears Hawks take a step closer to him and looks up to see an amused smirk, his hands on his hips as he leans in close and says, “Don’t you know better by now? If you want me to shut up, you gotta make me.”
His voice is too light, too uncaring of the fact that he’s currently hurt and is definitely bleeding through his shirt and suddenly Dabi is grabbing the front of his jacket and dragging him closer and telling him, “We’re alone now, so stop pretending already. It’s pissing me off.”
The words feel oddly natural to him, like they’re something he said once before, maybe when he was younger or maybe in a dream. Maybe they feel natural to Hawks, too, because he doesn’t miss a beat as his smile falls and he says, "Pretty sure I don’t know how, Touya.”
His whole body runs cold at the name, his heart pounding against his ribs as he stares down at Hawks, who’s starting to look confused by his own words. Dabi quickly lets go of his jacket and takes a step back, ready to demand how the fuck Hawks knows that name.
But he feels like he isn’t exactly in control of himself, like there’s someone else that’s pulling him back so they can take the lead. It’s not who he was, not the Touya he remembers being, at least. It’s familiar, yes, but there’s something off. This version of himself knows far too much, pulling out a name that Dabi recognizes from fuzzy dreams where he’s surrounded by laughter that makes him feel warmth that doesn’t burn.
“Keigo.”
Before he can so much as blink, there’s a razor-sharp feather pressed against his throat, the pressure just hard enough to cut if Dabi moves at all. “How do you know that name?” Hawks asks, his eyes colder than they’ve ever been before and something about it- about the fact that he’s the reason- makes Dabi want to punch something.
“How’d you know mine?”
“I asked you first.”
“And you said mine first.”
Hawks’ eyes narrow, considering Dabi for a moment before just slightly lightening the pressure of his feather. “I don’t know. It just….felt right to say. Familiar, I guess.”
“Like it was from a dream.”
He doesn’t know why he says it. But maybe it was the right thing to say because Hawks lowers his feather and takes a step back. “Okay, this is weird, but I’m sure we can explain it somehow,” he says.
Do they need to? Dabi wouldn’t mind just leaving things as they are. They could just ignore what happened and move on. “I’ve probably heard yours on a newscast or something. Don’t get so freaked out by it,” he says.
“No, you wouldn’t have. I haven’t used….that name in years.”
“Well, neither have I, so how the fuck did you hear about it.”
Hawks looks at him, staring for a few seconds before his eyes widen slightly and he asks, “Your name is actually Touya?”
Dabi knows exactly where this is going and he’d rather rip the band-aid off himself than suffer through Hawks’ questions. He sighs and walks over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it and nodding once. “Yeah. Todoroki Touya. Do you want the whole origin story or can you piece it together yourself?”
“But, Endeavor, he-”
“He’s a shitty hero and an even shittier excuse for a parent, and I’m not gonna sit here and listen to you wax fucking poetic about him. Got it?”
“Okay, okay, got it,” Hawks says, hands raised in front of him in surrender. Then he gets a slight grin and adds, “No need to be so hot-headed, Toy.”
“Would you shut the fuck up with that, Kei?”
Just like before, it takes a few seconds to realize those words are far too familiar despite having never been spoken before. “You mentioned something about dreams?” Hawks asks, walking over to the bed and awkwardly standing next to it as though he’s not sure if he can sit or not.
Instead of waiting for him to decide, Dabi reaches out and yanks him down, looking away once he’s sitting. “Yeah. It felt fuzzy like a dream.”
“Are you saying you dream about me?”
Dabi rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother acknowledging the question. “It felt more familiar than that, though. More like a memory.”
Next to him, Hawks nods as he stretches out his wings and grimaces at the pain. Feathers brush lightly against Dabi’s back and he has the sudden urge to turn around and run his fingers through them to pull out the loose ones. He curls his hands into fists instead, refusing to indulge in something as ridiculous as that, muscle-memory be damned. “Well,” he says, “I think I’d remember meeting Endeavor’s kid.”
“I don’t remember ever seeing you before, either.”
That’s wrong, though. He doesn’t have the memory, but he somehow remembers anyway. He remembers the feeling of it, the way his loneliness seemed to alleviate and he felt an odd determination. But there’s no clear image, nothing more than a flash of crimson and an open smile that, for some reason, he remembers wanting to keep for himself.
What is he supposed to do with this? The memory doesn’t feel like his but there’s no denying it actually is. Dabi knows himself, knows who he used to be, and would be able to recognize that feeling anywhere.
But all of that is way too hard to explain, especially to someone as annoying as Hawks. “Maybe it’s a quirk or something,” he says.
He doesn’t expect Hawks to laugh at that, and he doesn’t expect the laughter to actually sound real. But it does. It’s nothing at all like the lower-pitched, practiced chuckle that Dabi usually hears during League meetings or interviews with the press. It’s higher than that, far more open and lighter than he thought Hawks was capable of, and it feels just as familiar to him as everything else.
It would be so easy for him to lean forward and kiss Hawks, so easy to steal the sound of that laugh for himself. He thinks it might have been something he’s done before, because he can map out the exact sequence of events- leaning in, grabbing Hawks’ chin and making him turn his head, pressing their lips together in something playful and short and far too meaningful.
Dabi clenches his jaw and forces himself to look away, to take a deep breath so he doesn’t give in and go through with something he’d regret. “Have you considered past lives?” he finds himself asking.
That makes Hawks stop, the room too quiet after being filled with the sound of him. “What are the odds of us having the same names in a past life, though?” he asks.
“Okay, fine, an alternate universe.”
“This isn’t some isekai anime, Dabs.”
He almost wishes it was. At least that would make things easier to explain. “Would you just consider it? Fucking hell, I’m trying to figure this shit out and all you can do is sit there and laugh about it.”
“You don’t find this funny at all?”
“No, I don’t.”
The bed shifts and Dabi looks up to see Hawks is closer than before, his lips once more curled up at the corners in a smirk that’s just as real as his laugh. It’s more endearing than it is annoying. "C'mon, at least try to see the humor in it. You pretty much hate me but we know each other's biggest secrets. It's a little funny."
Okay, maybe it's ironic, but he doesn't find it funny. Dabi frowns, though, his attention stuck on the fact that Hawks thinks he hates him. He doesn't, right? Maybe he gets irrationally annoyed by him but….no, that's not quite right. It's not Hawks but the way he acts that annoys Dabi. In these moments, where he's more real than fake, he can actually stand being around him. It's like he always knew what the other should be doing or saying; he just never realized it before now.
He looks up, taking in how close they are now, and hums softly, deciding that he wouldn't mind seeing where this goes if he stops thinking. "And who said I hated you, bird brain?"
"Maybe it was the name-calling."
"Haven't you ever heard that boys tease the girls they like?"
"Last time I checked, I wasn't a girl."
Dabi shrugs, getting a smirk of his own at the way Hawks seems to finally realize where this is going. "I've never been a fan of girls anyway."
"This is quite the leap after just finding out we apparently know each other."
"It doesn't feel like it."
Golden eyes soften just slightly and, somehow, Dabi knows he's won this argument. His smirk widens a bit and, just like that, Hawks looks slightly annoyed again as he says, "Don't think this counts as a win, cheater."
Instead of wondering what he's talking about- or the fact that Dabi's mind is supplying him the answer a second later with vague memories of some kind of bet- his grin just widens. "I think I will, though. It feels like one."
He doesn't bother waiting for a response before standing up, glancing at Hawks' wings briefly. "Let's just figure it out later, yeah? For now, we should fix your wings," he says, holding a hand out to help Hawks up.
"How chivalrous."
"Just get your ass up already, damn."
Hawks grins and takes his hand, pulling himself up. He doesn't let go, and Dabi doesn't ask him to.