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Hawks slides his key into the lock and slowly pushes open his apartment door, dreading what he’ll find on the other side. He’s been out of town for three weeks, and he half expects the apartment to either be burnt down or empty. Or both. He flicks the light on.
The apartment is neither burnt down nor empty. There are shoes by the door, clean dishes in the drying rack, and nothing seems to be broken or like it has been set on fire. Dabi hasn’t run off.
Dabi hasn’t run off.
Nearly a year into their relationship, into recovery, and Hawks still has trouble believing this is real. That Dabi had stayed. Some part of Hawks is always ready for the other shoe to drop. For Dabi to decide it isn’t worth it. That Hawks isn’t worth it. But he never does. Even when Hawks was gone for almost a month, even when Hawks wasn’t there to make sure he didn’t fall off the rails, even when Hawks wasn’t there to give him whatever it was he got out of this arrangement, Dabi didn’t leave.
Hawks sits his bag on the floor, too tired and full of relief to unpack, and makes his way to his (their) bedroom, shedding outer layers of clothes as he goes. His feathers carry his coat to the hook by the door, place his shoes next to Dabi’s, and lay his gloves on the coffee table. By the time he’s standing in front of the bedroom door, he’s in nothing but his underwear and undershirt, and his heart is pounding home, home, home.
The lamp on the bedside table is on, illuminating the dark shape curled on his mattress, (their mattress,) chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Soft breaths of sleep fill the air, and something in Hawks releases, some tightness that had still been preparing for the bed to be empty.
Home, home, home, becomes Dabi, Dabi, Dabi.
Dabi is clutching something small to his chest, but from the doorway, Hawks can't make out what it is. After his brain adjusts to the reality that Dabi is laying in his (their) bed, he quietly approaches. His breath catches in his throat when he recognizes the object. A small Winged Hero: Hawks plushie, the one that was released a few years ago in a limited run and sold out in twelve minutes. Dabi’s fingers grip it tightly, like it will fly away if he lets go.
Hawks doesn’t know how to react to the knowledge that Dabi has apparently been sleeping with a Hawks plushie while he’s been gone. He can't afford to believe that Dabi cares that much. He knows Dabi only stays because Hawks is a warm bed and a full belly and the only thing keeping him from a life in prison. And Hawks is okay with that. It's better than nothing.
But maybe, a tiny part of his heart says, maybe he stays because he loves you.
Hawks settles onto his side of the bed. Dabi stirs, and Hawks runs his hand through Dabi’s hair, still amazed that he can touch Dabi without getting burnt.
Dabi opens his eyes sleepily. “Hawks?”
“I’m home,” Hawks says, almost a whisper. And then he leans down and kisses Dabi. Dabi’s mouth parts willingly, eagerly, and Hawks sinks into three weeks worth of goodnight kisses; the slow, gentle, soft kisses he hadn’t known either of them could be capable of before they’d started sleeping in the same bed. He’d missed this, while he was gone. More than he’d realized.
Eventually, he pulls back. His mind is racing in a hundred directions but it keeps snagging on the small, Hawks shaped plushie in Dabi’s hands. “So…”
Dabi narrows his eyes in suspicion. Hawks gestures to the Hawks plushie. “How long have you been sleeping with me behind my back?”
Dabi’s fingers squeeze the plushie a little harder, pulling it closer to his chest, and then the words seem to sink in, and Hawks sees the flash of panicked embarrassment, and then there is a tiny Hawks flying towards his face with alarming speed. It smacks into his face then falls into his lap. He picks it up and examines it. It’s well-loved, the left eye nearly rubbed off, the hair fraying at the ends. The wings are floppy, but still soft. This kind of wear and tear doesn't come from just one night's sleep. It doesn't even come from three week's sleep. It comes from months. It comes from every night since their first kiss, it comes from every night Hawks slept in his office instead of his (their) bed, it comes from Dabi clutching this small, soft Hawks to his heart like if he doesn't the real thing will fly away for good. Hawks' heart catches, stutters, pounds out a rhythm of Dabi, Dabi, Dabi.
“Dabi…”
Dabi’s face is a little pink when he sits up and snatches the tiny Hawks from his hands. “Don’t read too much into it, birdbrain.”
But Hawks can see how gently, how reverently, Dabi holds the plushie. Like it’s something precious. Like he loves it. And Hawks doesn’t know what to do with the sudden emotions tumbling through him.
“I missed you,” he finally says. He searches Dabi’s eyes for a response, but Dabi’s looking down at the Hawks plushie, fingers rubbing back and forth across the worn fabric of its flight jacket.
“Dabi.”
Dabi looks up, and there’s defiance in his eyes, like he expects Hawks to laugh at him, or judge him, or attack him. Hawks does none of those things. How could he?
He hugs him.
Dabi freezes. They don’t do this. They don’t hug. They kiss and they fight and they fuck and they lay in the dark and pretend that they don’t care about each other, but they don’t hug.
But Hawks doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know how to express the feelings rushing through him, except to pull Dabi towards him and wrap his arms around him, and try to pour his gratitude into Dabi and hope he absorbs some of the meaning.
He was gone for three weeks. Three weeks of fully expecting Dabi to reveal his true nature. To reveal that this last year was nothing more than a lie. Three weeks of preparing for the worst. Preparing for heartbreak. Three weeks of missing Dabi and trying to convince himself he didn’t miss Dabi. Three weeks of not believing that Dabi could ever miss him back.
Eventually, Dabi’s arms come up and wrap tightly around Hawks. Hawks sighs and buries his face into Dabi’s neck. He can feel Dabi's heartbeat beneath his own. Home, home, home.
“I missed you,” he tries again.
And softly, so quietly that he wouldn’t have heard it without his quirk, he hears Dabi mumble a response.
“I missed you too.”