Chapter Text
Crown Prince Touya Todoroki was ten years old when his father introduced him to Keigo Takami.
The meeting itself was a little awkward with King Enji standing over them, his arms crossed as he watched the two expectantly. After a few too many seconds of silence, he'd sighed and said in a rough voice, "Touya, this boy will be your personal guard. You will train with him in the mornings and evenings. I expect you to get along."
And with that, he'd left the two alone in the training yard, the sun shining down as a breeze made the leaves rustle around them.
"So, you're training to be a knight?" Touya had asked, unsure of what else to say in the face of a stranger he'd been ordered to know.
Keigo nodded once and seemed to consider him for a moment before sticking his hand out, a move King Enji would consider disrespectful and deserving of time in the dungeon. "Yeah, and I'm gonna be better than you at it, too," he said, a bright smile on his face, "I have to be if I'm gonna guard you."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself."
"Well, yeah. Why, do you wanna make it a bet or something?"
Touya couldn't help the excited grin those words gave him. It only took a few seconds of thought for him to say, "Whenever we fight, the loser has to do whatever the winner says, and we'll keep track of them, too. So, in ten years, whoever has won the most is the ultimate winner."
"And what's the loser supposed to do then?"
"We'll figure it out later."
"I guess you'd better get ready to lose, then."
Keigo's hand was still between them, waiting for Touya to shake or push away. And, as he looked at this boy with crimson wings and an unburdened smile and the sheer audacity to speak to the Crown Prince as though he were just another person, Touya Todoroki decided that he would be keeping this one.
Touya ran away from the palace at the age of sixteen, recently burned from the inside out by magic that was never supposed to be as strong as King Enji forced it to be. He boarded the first ship he saw when he reached the harbor, still able to feel the cold burn of the gem where it was shoved into his chest, feeding his magic and turning his flames into something he didn't recognize.
He was met by a man with green eyes that were as hard as his father's, a man that smiled at him as though he knew who he was and why he was there, a man that offered him a chance at freedom.
"I can take you in but you'll owe me," he said, holding his hand out, palm facing the sky that was slowly beginning to color with the dawning sun's light.
"What will I owe you?"
"Loyalty to me and my son. It's the least you can promise your savior, right?"
"The hell do you need my loyalty for?"
That smile turned into something Touya could almost call sinister, the man's fingers spreading as though the breadth of his offer had suddenly widened. It had but Touya didn't know that yet.
"I plan to destroy this society, and I'm raising my son to do the same. Think of it, no more knights, no more lords, no more kings, just people in charge of their own lives."
There would be no going back from this, no chance to run away and return to the palace where there were only a few people to care about. He already missed Keigo most of all, but he wouldn't get in the way of his dreams. He wanted glory, wanted the pride of knighthood, wanted to be known as something more than a criminal's son that happened to get lucky.
And this man wanted to deprive him of all of that. He offered escape, yes, but also destruction, and going with him could give Touya a chance to run and still feel like he hadn't completely abandoned Keigo, able to delude himself into thinking he could slow down the destruction of society.
Touya stared at the man's hand, thought of a similar gesture shown to him so many times over the years by a boy with crimson wings and a smile that began to grow into a smirk that made something in the pit of his stomach twist. This was different; this was a hand that promised to drag him into the depths rather than pull him up.
But whatever depths were promised had to be better than the ones Touya came from, so he took it and sealed his fate.
"How come you never like visiting the capital?"
Dabi looks down at Himiko, considering her for a moment as she stares at the open road below them, leaning forward enough on her branch that just a mild breeze could be enough to knock her off. "Because it's too busy," he says, reaching over and tugging her back by her hood.
Technically, when they're on a job they shouldn't be talking like this. Right now, though, they've been waiting for a royal carriage long enough that he's starting to wonder if it's going to show up at all.
"Nope. That's not it."
"How would you know?"
"You're fine with other cities, duh."
Sometimes, he thinks Himiko might be too smart for her own good. It's not like he can just tell her that every second spent in the capital is a risk to his freedom, a chance that someone will somehow recognize him despite the mask and the hair dye. With the entire life that he's built himself so far, why the fuck would he even consider enjoying time in the place that could so easily take it all away?
"I hate the color scheme," he says.
Himiko looks entirely unconvinced and seems ready to say as much when the distinct sound of somebody whistling becomes audible from down the road. She blinks and gets a huge grin, hooking her legs on the branch before hanging upside down from it to get a better view of whatever poor bastard decided to take a stroll.
"Ooh, we've got ourselves a knight," she says, the joy clear in her words. From her vantage point, she can't see the way Dabi stiffens, the way his heart pounds against his ribs as he watches the knight turn the bend in the road, unmistakable crimson wings on display for all to see.
Fuck.
Dabi clenches his jaw and grabs Himiko's cloak, dragging her up onto the branch once more. "I'll take care of the bird but you have to go tell Shig that our intel was shit," he says.
"But I've always wanted to try roast chicken."
It takes everything in him to not snap at her when his nerves are already well on their way to being spent. "Did I fucking stutter?" he asks, pinning her with a hard look that always managed to get his brother to back off when he was getting too insistent on watching his training sessions.
She's quiet a moment before pouting. "Fine, I'll go tell him," she says. "But you'll have to cover for me so I can get away."
"I figured."
Dabi doesn't wait around for a response, instead standing on the branch and taking a deep breath before jumping out of the tree, a burst of blue flames cushioning his fall so he lands on his feet. He straightens up and meets the knight's eyes, pushing away the memories the familiar gold of them tries to bring up.
"Nice day for a walk?" he asks, a confidence he's grown accustomed to faking clear in his voice.
"I'll be honest, I thought it'd take longer to get you to come out," the knight says, a cocky grin on his face as he shrugs. "This works just fine for me, though. The name's Hawks, and I've been told to bring you in for questioning."
He remembers when Keigo talked about wanting a different name to further separate himself from his father. Of all the options he'd come up with, Hawks had been the least annoying. But he'd been able to convince Keigo that a new name was ridiculous when he could do so much more by proving people wrong despite his name, by forcing them to acknowledge that he was good no matter what.
But that was when they were still Touya and Keigo. Now they're Dabi and Hawks, and the only person to blame for that is too far out of reach, sitting on a throne he never deserved in the first place.
Dwelling on the past and impossibilities never does him any good, though, so Dabi just sighs and unsheathes his sword. "I'd like to have a little fun before getting dragged away if you don't mind, good knight," he says, letting his voice drip with contempt at the end.
Behind him, he can just barely hear the sound of leaves rustling as Himiko jumps from the tree and makes her escape, no doubt stalling some in the hopes of seeing the beginning of their fight. She's out of luck, really, since Dabi has no intentions of letting this fight go farther than a few parries and thrusts. He's not delusional. He knows that he could give himself away if he did more.
"The way you say it, I sound like I'm corrupt," Hawks says, his wings shifting as he reaches behind himself and pulls out a feather. It hardens, becoming sharper and infinitely more deadly as he gets a grin that might have made dread fill Dabi if it wasn't coming from someone that once streaked naked through the castle on a dare when he was twelve. "But I don't mind the extra entertainment."
Just like when they were kids, Hawks makes the first move, rushing Dabi and puffing his wings in an attempt to overwhelm him, to make him feel trapped. He can't help the slight smirk he gets, almost relieved to know that some things never change as he easily dodges the feather, sword coming up to parry the second one that Hawks thought he'd pulled out subtly- a move he learned when they were thirteen.
"Two feathers seems a bit unfair, don't you think?" he asks.
Hawks scowls and straightens up, his grip visibly tightening on both feathers. "You're a wanted pirate. Why would I play fair?"
He does have a point, not that Dabi would admit that. Instead, he shrugs and parries the next thrust of a feather, the surprisingly metallic clang of it meeting his sword echoing around them. Before Hawks can bring down the other, he grabs his wrist with his free hand, his grip almost bruising as he smirks. "You're not taking this seriously," he says.
"Neither are you."
"You wouldn't last very long if I did."
"Or maybe you just know you couldn't keep up."
"Trust me, Hawks, I'd be able to keep up with you."
Golden eyes start to sparkle with amusement as Hawks' mouth curls up into a smile. It's then that Dabi realizes the years have been kind to his old friend. He's grown into himself, carries himself with a confidence that he was only just starting to gain at sixteen. His hair still looks just as soft as ever, practically begging Dabi to run his fingers through it like he used to, citing the flimsy reason of removing leaves and twigs to get away with the action.
"Are you willing to test that?" Hawks whispers.
"Somehow, I don't think we're talking about the same thing anymore."
Without thinking, Dabi starts to lean forward, closing the distance between them. A short huff of laughter from Hawks stops him in his tracks, making his heart thud too hard as he realizes he's been caught.
And then the world tilts and Dabi’s back hits the ground, rocks digging painfully through his shirt. He stares up at Hawks with wide eyes, stunned for just a moment before he uses the grip he still has on the other’s wrist to yank him down as well. He takes advantage of the momentum and rolls them over, only managing to be on top of Hawks for a few seconds before he’s getting thrown back again.
They continue this dance for a few feet, neither one of them managing to stay on top of the other for more than a few seconds. It should be frustrating but Dabi can’t find it in himself to be upset when this reminds him so much of their morning training sessions.
Finally, he manages to get the upper hand, seizing Hawks’ momentary hesitation to shove him onto his stomach. Before Hawks can attempt to move, Dabi grabs a fistful of feathers close to the base of his right wing. Despite the roughness of the action, he doesn’t hold too tightly, painfully aware of how sensitive the wings are. Beneath him, Hawks stiffens, his left wing twitching just slightly.
“I could easily slice off your hand,” Hawks says, his voice sounding rougher than before, like his mouth is dry and he’s out of breath. Though, that could be explained away by all the rolling they just did.
Dabi hums and leans in closer, too caught up in the moment to think about how close they are or to actually consider his words before whispering in Hawks’ ear, “This makes 63 wins for me and 59 for you.”
The words are quiet but in the face of Hawks’ sudden silence, they seem to echo down the road. And Dabi should probably feel anxious about revealing himself like this but he just can’t. Not when they’re alone and all the years apart is making him feel reckless.
Not when he still regrets not asking Keigo to run away with him, to take his hand and abandon the palace so he wouldn’t have to become Hawks.
“I think you’re forgetting about Fuyumi’s fourteenth birthday.”
And then his face is smothered by feathers as Hawks’ left wing smacks him. He loosens his grip enough for Hawks to throw him off and pin him to the ground, hands holding his wrists down as he straddles his waist. The sun shining behind him makes his golden hair burn bright, almost enough to make Dabi look away if he wasn’t so stubborn.
“Is this really where you’ve been all these years? Pretending to be a pirate with cheap hair dye?” Hawks asks, smirking when Dabi frowns at his questions.
“One, it’s not nearly as cheap as you think. And two, if I’m pretending to be a pirate, then you’re pretending to be a knight.”
Hawks merely shrugs and leans closer. His expression softens a little, and Dabi wonders how long it’s been since he last risked showing an honest emotion in front of another person. It’s not like that sort of thing was exactly acceptable in the palace. Dabi remembers the day he got so tired of seeing a fake smile that he’d dragged Keigo to an empty room and said, “We’re alone now, Kei, so stop pretending already. It’s pissing me off.”
The memory makes his stomach churn and he forces himself to continue holding Hawks’ gaze. “You gonna do anything while you’re up there?” he asks.
“Depends. How likely are you to roast me for what I want to do?”
“No need to worry. I’m not a fan of chicken.”
For a brief moment, all Dabi can hear is Hawks’ laughter, and he desperately tries to commit the sound to memory, greedily taking it all for himself and shoving it into the depths of his soul so he can keep it safe, a light to admire when the world feels too dark and Dabi doesn’t know what he’s doing. But all thoughts of keeping that laugh fly away from him when he realizes that all he can see is the gold of Hawks’ eyes and all he can feel are lips on his own.
It takes far longer than Dabi would like to admit for him to catch up. By the time he does, Hawks is starting to pull away, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and an uncharacteristic apology already starting to be said. Dabi knows a lot of people who should apologize- he has a list, really, and the first three slots are taken by his asshat of a father but that’s neither here nor there- and Hawks isn’t one of them.
There’s nothing he wants to hear less than an apology from Hawks, in fact.
So Dabi cuts him off, sitting up as much as he can with Hawks still pinning him down to catch his lips in another kiss. Hawks doesn’t hesitate to return it, letting go of Dabi’s wrists to hold his hands instead. He leans in closer, pushing until Dabi’s lying on the ground again and trying to keep up as the kiss deepens.
How many times has Dabi thought of exactly this moment? Probably too many to count. Though, they were never Dabi and Hawks in his thoughts. They were always Touya and Keigo, the names breathlessly whispered into the dark of a room between kisses or happily shouted out in the open where they had no duties hanging over their heads.
He wants them to be Touya and Keigo again.
As though he can somehow hear his thoughts, Hawks finally breaks the kiss, his lips pulled up at the corners in a smile that makes something twist in Dabi’s heart. “I can give you a ten minute headstart,” Hawks says.
Dabi blinks. “What?”
“Ten minutes to run before I have to start chasing you again.”
That’s not right, though. Isn’t that pretending nothing just happened? “Come with me,” he says.
“I didn’t realize I was that good at kissing.”
Okay, nevermind, maybe he doesn’t want Hawks acknowledging that kiss if he’s going to get that infuriating smirk when he does. Dabi rolls his eyes but finds he can’t be upset for long. “You know what I mean, you overgrown chicken. We don’t have to leave each other again.”
Hawks sighs and lets go of Dabi’s hands, sitting back and looking away from him. “I wasn’t the one who left,” he says quietly.
“You weren’t, but you can let me make up for it.”
“Maybe another time, hot stuff.”
With that, he climbs off Dabi and stands, his wings ruffling some to settle the feathers. Then he holds a hand out to help Dabi up as well, an expectant look on his face.
“You better not avoid me.”
“Hell no. I like annoying you too much. Don’t worry, we’ll see each other again, Touya.”
For the first time in years, the name doesn’t feel like a slap to the face, and he realizes that they’ve been Touya and Keigo since their kiss. It won’t last for much longer, but that’s okay. Right now, all that matters is the sun shining brightly above them and Keigo’s hand is still open between them.
“I’ll hold you to that, Keigo,” Touya says as he takes his hand and lets himself be pulled up.