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“Dabi.”
Hawks calls his name like it’s true. Like Dabi is just that. No one else, nothing behind it. It’s something new. The word used to sound so heavy, his voice used to ring coldly.
But Hawks is always something new. It used to unsettle him. The shifting, the facades, the fakeness of all of him. But lately (and only around him) it’s almost as if he’s pulled into focus.
Dabi learns several things. One, Hawks is almost as alert to his surroundings as him. Two. Hawks is actually the quiet kind. Three, Hawks wakes up at a ridiculous hour, Hawks can’t handle his booze.
Summer heat makes him lethargic, he’s actually a sarcastic asshole when he’s not playing nice, he uses his feathers for completely unnecessary things, he has even less friends than him, he doesn’t like breaking his strict morning routine, sometimes he’s halfway through completing an order before he realizes he doesn’t have to, he flinches if something moves too suddenly, he reminds Dabi too much of someone dead.
He also likes when he plays with his wings, as long as he asks first.
“Dabi,” Hawks calls, again. “What happened?”
Dabi pulls away from the hand pressing against the deep gash on his cheekbone. “Nothing.”
Hawks tilts his head. “Y’know, not everything you say will be used against you, I’m off duty right now.”
Dabi rolls his eyes at him. Carefully sliding into Hawks’ couch. He brings him some gauze anyways. Sitting in the armrest, too close, his wings spread back for balance as he carefully treats the cut. He’s not sure yet, maybe it’s more of his conditioning-training, but Dabi knows Hawks is eager to help others. He doesn’t know if it’s a Keigo or a Hawks thing.
“It’s already scarring,” Dabi points out.
“You talk like you can afford an infection,” Hawks retorts, flicking rubbing alcohol everywhere.
“I didn’t come for nursing practice.” Dabi tries to slap him away, but lightspeed feathers intercept his wrists. Others pin his clothes into the couch.
“This is more interesting,” Dabi adds suggestively.
Hawks give him a blank and detached stare. Dabi shrugs, getting the hint. He continues to dab at his skin, his other hand holding his jaw, moving his head gently to see how long the cut goes. Two fingers on his chin get his attention. As Dabi looks up, Hawks leans down. Pressing a kiss against his lips. The air around them smells like antiseptic.
“Anything else?” Hawks asks as he pulls away, a feather fetching him one of his stupid chicken print bandaids. Dabi won’t be caught dead with one of those on his face, but the feathers still have him down.
“I have a stab wound on my back,” Dabi replies.
“For fuck’s sake.” Hawks closes his eyes tiredly.
-
“Just-” Hawks groans. “Let me fucking-” He dodges another blow, not even smoke comes out this time.
“I said-” Dabi grits out through his teeth. Slapping him away, his jaw clenched so hard the few remaining intact staples pull at his neck. “It’s fine. D-don’t touch me.”
Hawks slumps back with a frustrated scoff. He’s bled all over Dabi’s last blood-stain free shirt. Fucker.
“We can’t stay here.” Hawks expands and retracts his ruined wings, nervous or still riding the adrenaline high. No feathers left, no fight in him either.
Dabi rests his head against the alley wall. “I know, I know.” He just needs to catch his breath, stop pulling only smoke into his lungs and stop having a heatstroke. Give him five minutes.
“I can carry you,” Hawks suggests, crawling closer.
Dabi barks a laugh. “Not with that arm.”
Hawks looks down at the pseudo tourniquet they’ve made with one of Dabi’s sleeves. “It’s not even bleeding anymore.”
“If you’re that desperate to use it let me seal it off,” Dabi snaps, flicking a weak flame to life on his palm. The way Hawks never prioritizes himself pisses him off.
Hawks draws back on instinct. Dabi knows he hates burns more than anything.
“Fine.” He gives it up. He stands and offers Dabi a hand. They stumble their way through the dark streets. Or well, Dabi does.
“You can lean on me,” Hawks suggests. “I’m not gonna try to carry you,” He adds when he sees the look Dabi gives him.
With an arm around Hawks’ shoulders and a hand around Dabi’s waist they make their way through the city.
“We look drunk,” Dabi comments, half delirious from his rising fever.
“Maybe later,” Hawks teases. But his voice sounds wrong, clear worry underneath the words.
“How many times have you seen me like this?” Dabi asks. “I’m fine.”
“I shouldn’t have to get used to it,” Hawks snaps back. “You’re too light, Dabi.”
“You’re biased,” Dabi tries weakly. “Your wings weigh too much.”
“You’re too gone to argue,” Hawks points out to himself.
“And you’re bleeding again.” He can feel the warm blood over his shoulders.
“Next time we’re flying,” Hawks huffs.
“Sure,” Dabi mocks. He’s never gotten him in the air and he never will.
-
Dabi tilts his head, analyzing the view in front of him.
He extends a finger and carefully presses it against the paler skin in between Hawks’ ribs. “This one.”
Hawks seems to consider it. “I think it’s from a claw.”
“You forgot?” Dabi asks, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s been a long time since someone lands a blow on me,” Hawks replies.
Dabi gives him a blank stare. Then, using all his speed, he whacks him in the face with one of the pillows around them.
Hawks squawks in disbelief. Wings expanding as the feathers poof up.
“Not anymore,” Dabi points out.
Hawks scoffs at him and shakes his head. Looking down at his own body. “Hm, yeah, a girl with a mutation quirk kinda like mine, we were usually paired up together cause she was almost as fast as me.”
“Did you win?” Dabi asks.
“Judging by the length of this cut, probably not that time.” Hawks shrugs.
Dabi traces his finger over it, enjoying the way Hawks’ skin reacts. Goosebumps appearing over his arms.
He swats him away, pouting. “Cold.”
He crawls closer, the bed creaking underneath his weight. He moves his eyes over Dabi’s exposed frame and he tries not to run from his gaze. Then his eyes glance up, and he reaches out slowly, pushing his hair out of his eyes.
He presses a thumb over a spot on his forehead. “This?”
Dabi tries to find the place he means, bringing a hand up to his head, his fingers catch on a rougher line of skin. He frowns as he tries to remember.
“I hit my head, against the stairwell rail,” he admits. “I tripped, I think, playing tag? Or hide and seek.”
“Did you win?” Hawks echoes.
“I passed out,” Dabie replies. “So no.”
“Is that funny?” Dabi asks as he notices Hawks’ trembling lip.
“No,” he lies, schooling his features. “It’s just a bit anticlimactic.”
Dabi huffs. “Not all of these are from fights.” He gestures at himself.
Hawks wraps his hand around his wrist, catching it. “This one?”
“It’s my turn,” Dabi replies.
Hawks pulls back, turning around and lying down on his chest. The sheets slipping down his back.
Dabi presses his palm against a scar on his left shoulder blade. Fully enjoying the way Hawks hisses at his freezing touch.
“I was thrown through a window,” Hawks explains, resting his head on his crossed arms. “Thirteen stitches.”
He taps his wrist again.
Dabi hesitates. “My father lifted me up by the arm,” he recalls. “That was the first one, at least. Most of this I did myself.”
Hawks’ look doesn’t flatter. “Your turn.”
He picks one he already knows. A star between his eyebrows.
“Some sociopath sent a nomu after me,” Hawks replies. “Almost killed me.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Dabi crawls over him, lying down on top of him. His chest against what’s left of Hawks back below the wings. Hawks whines, the cold, always too cold.
“Dabi, your staples,” Hawks complains.
“Hm.” Dabi ignores him.
Hawks easily rises them both as he sits up. He’s strong, Dabi keeps learning that.
As he throws him off, he flips them around. Dabi leans his weight on his elbow, afraid to crush his wings, but he can feel Hawks’ bare chest against his.
“How is this better?” He asks. He can feel the way some of the metal catches on Hawks’ skin.
“Now I’m carrying you,” Hawks replies, wrapping his arms around his torso.
Dabi rolls his eyes. Hawks buries his head on his shoulder, kissing his neck, which he can barely feel.
Dabi wouldn’t mind another scar, if Hawks was the one to give it to him.
-
Dabi has learned that Hawks loves his quirk. It took him a while to notice, probably cause the concept seems impossible to him. His perspective on the matter isn’t very objective.
It’s not how he overuses it (he does), the way he controls his feathers is purely practical. But the wings are another matter entirely. Hawks loves to fly.
He’s currently brooding, he’s been grounded since two days ago. A fight that didn’t quite go his way. And it makes Dabi realize that it’s not about how he’s unable to turn off the stereo without getting up. Hawks becomes anxious when he can’t fly.
“Very bird-ish of you,” Dabi adds, when he points it out to him.
“If I broke your legs and you couldn’t run,” Hawks explains. “How would you feel?”
Dabi considers it. “I can barely run as it is.”
Hawks clicks his tongue, annoyed. Dabi sighs, not in the mood for jokes then.
He stands behind him, it’s weird seeing him without wings. He seems smaller, shorter even. Although it’s easier to notice how defined his back is. Dabi won’t let this opportunity go. He wraps his arms around Hawks’ waist, who stiffens up as Dabi holds him from behind.
“You look shorter,” Dabi lets him know, hooking his chin on Hawks’ shoulder.
“Take off those ridiculous boots and we’ll see who is short,” Hawks mutters.
It’s him. They both know it.
“It’s-” Hawks starts, his body untensing. “-I won’t. But I like having the option to fly away.”
“You should take it.” His hair smells like wind, even when he hasn’t flown in two days.
“Only if I can take you, too.”
Dabi shakes his head against his back. He feels the way Hawks sighs.
-
‘Pretty bird,’ Dabi thinks. Not that he’ll ever say it.
Hawks only gains height, wings beating so fast Dabi can’t count how many time he does it before he drops down. The move used to set him on edge, it still makes him nervous.
In the last second, Hawks spreads his feathers wide and his descent seems to come to a halt.
Even from here Dabi can see he’s smiling.
He fucks around a couple more minutes before crashing back down, into him. He does it purposely, but Dabi doesn’t call him out on it.
“Got it out of your system?” He asks.
“Never,” Hawks replies.
Dabi takes in his messed up hair, his wild eyes and his parted lips. “Looks fun.”
“Try it,” Hawks immediately suggests.
Dabi blinks. “No.”
“Why not?” Hawks asks the same question he’s asked every time Dabi has turned him down. “Scared of heights?”
“No.” Dabi repeats the answer he’s told him every time, turning around and walking back the way they came from.
“Scared of me?” That’s a new question. “You don’t trust me?”
“Your manipulation is coming off a bit strong.” Dabi raises an eyebrow.
Hawks frowns, serious now. “I’m genuinely curious.” His tone of voice is no longer regulated, he’s dropping any act he had going on. Good, Dabi likes him better this way.
“Don’t ask what you already know, Keigo.” Of course he does, but Dabi didn’t get killed to go around trusting full heartedly. Hawks can take what he gives him.
“You would like it, I think.” He’s dropped it, at least. “It’s cold, sometimes during winter I get frost on my visor. The wind makes it pretty hard to hear anything but it’s almost like quiet.”
“You’re such a pain.” Dabi stops, Hawks almost bumps into him. “Fine.”
Hawks pauses. “What?”
“You can fly us back,” Dabi grants.
Hawks seems caught off guard. “I wasn't really pushing, it was just a comment?”
“You’ve thought about it a lot,” Dabi points out.
“Sure, I think about you all the time,” Hawks says, like it’s nothing.
Dabi has to swallow something down his throat. “Then, fine.”
Hawks knows how to hold him, he’s learned. Where skin meets scarring, where his staples pull and bleed, he avoids all these places on him by memory. Dabi fights the urge to cling to him as the ground disappears below them.
“You’re too light,” Hawks repeats, as he always does.
“Fuck you,” Dabi replies out of reflex.
He can feel his laugh against his chest, he wonders if Hawks can feel his heartbeat.
“You good?” Hawks asks.
“Yeah,” Dabi replies honestly.
Hawks hums and they gain a bit more height. They seem stuck in place, the world turning below while they are frozen in the air. Although Dabi knows Hawks is flying forwards.
He was right, Dabi does like it.
Hawks’ grip around his back tightens and Dabi’s breath catches, this is barely close enough. Oh, fuck.
He feels a bit lightheaded when they land on the rooftop, he can’t tell if it was the height or the realization. Hawks holds his head against his shoulder until Dabi nods, he’s fine. He’s beaming in a discreet sort of way. But the feathers always give him away. Fluttering behind him.
“Well-” He starts cautiously.
Dabi rudely interrupts him, grabbing his face and bringing their lips together. Hawks’ feathers stand on point before relaxing as he melts into Dabi’s touch, throwing an arm around his shoulders. He sighs happily against his lips and Dabi tries not to shake.
“Does that answer your question?” Dabi asks once they part to breathe.
Hawks just kisses him again.