Archive of Our Own

“You look expensive for this part of town.”

Hawks tilted his head back, barely repressing an irritated sigh as he heard the words come from behind him. “I’m not for sale. You’d have better luck down on Thirty-fifth Street.” He rustled his wings slightly in a subtle threat, taking comfort in the sound of the rattling metal.

“I’m not lookin’ for a girl.”

“Thirty-second, then.”

“I’m not lookin’ for a good time, period.”

Hawks snorted and shifted his wings down slightly so that he could glance over his shoulder at the mysterious speaker. “One of those types, eh? You can find what you’re looking… for…”

His voice died in his throat as he noticed who precisely was standing behind him.

What the fuck had he done to draw the attention of the anti-establishment movement?

“So,” Dabi said, his half-metallic face glinting threateningly in the dim glow of the street lights from below. “Hawks, am I right?”

Hawks cocked his head and gave the man his best attempt at a confident smirk, though it felt thin even to himself. Going by the raised brow he was given, his laid-back visage wasn’t looking very good. “I’d usually go ‘who’s asking?’ but I think we both know you’re not exactly an unknown person.” He brought his feet back up from where they’d been dangling over the edge, standing up on the dingy rooftop to fully face the other man. “So I’ll just skip to asking why you’re seeking me out.”

“So you’re him?”

“The wings aren’t a giveaway?” Hawks asked dryly, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to the right as his left side began to ache in protest. “Not exactly common to have mods this big, but I’m pretty sure you already know that.” He looked closer at Dabi, who was leveling him with a relatively unimpressed expression. Hawks tried to keep his eyes from straying too close to the other man’s arms, not wanting to linger on pinprick holes he knew ejected flames that could eviscerate him in an instant. “Why’s the anti-establishment movement interested in a petty thief?”

“You robbed the Commission President, I wouldn’t exactly call that ‘petty,’” Dabi said, mismatched lips quirking upwards ever so slightly. Not exactly a smile, but he no longer looked like he would rather have Hawks be a scorch mark beneath his boot, so he considered it progress. “Rumor has it you know the Commission pretty well, as a matter of fact. How true is that?”

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, shuffling ever-so-slightly back to hang his left foot off the rooftop, a clear signal that he was ready to leave. “Not exactly in the habit of giving away information about myself. See ya.”

And he let himself fall backward.

After years of training, it was easy to right himself and flare his wings before he got anywhere close to the ground, the harsh pull on the muscles and connections in his back familiar. With a few strong flaps of his wings, he was soaring off, wind whistling between metallic feathers. Hawks was surprised to note that no angry flames had chased after him to strike him down, but he wasn’t exactly complaining.

It didn’t take him long before he arrived at the abandoned apartment complex on the edge of the city that he spent most of his time hiding out in.

He hissed as he landed, pain shooting up his left leg. He awkwardly balanced on his right foot, wings tucked close against his back, and hopped over to the roof entrance and grabbed the crutch he’d left there. Putting it under his arm to alleviate the pressure on his left side, he levered the door open and began his precarious journey down the decrepit staircase.

“Hawks?” a voice called from deeper within the building. “You back?”

“Right here Rumi!” he shouted in response as he shuffled into the hall of the top floor. The door of the stairway slammed open, and he was met with the foreboding sight of Rumi glaring at him.

“You fucker,” she growled. “You can’t fucking land for shit.” And that was about all the warning he got before he was thrown over the woman’s shoulder, crutch clattering to the floor as he shrieked in surprise. “Fucking keep this up and you’re gonna have to get that leg amputated, and then what? You get a prosthetic that neither of us can afford? Think before you fly, dipshit.”

“In my defense,” he squeaked as Rumi began hauling him down the stairwell, “I wasn’t exactly expecting for the anti-establishment movement to track me down.”

Rumi froze in her steps.

There was a few moments of silence before she responded. “I’m sorry,” she hissed, fingers digging into his thigh threateningly, “I must not have heard you quite right.” She heard him perfectly, the mods on her ears making sure of that, but Hawks wasn’t quite feeling brave enough to point it out. “Who tracked you down?”

“The, uh, the anti-establishment movement? Dabi, specifically?”

“You know what?” Rumi said after a moment, continuing her trek down the stairs. “Fuck it. I’m not even surprised anymore. I’m not happy about it, but you were bound to draw attention eventually. Just don’t go get involved in things you’re gonna regret, pigeon boy.”

“I’m not a fucking pigeon!”

“Oh, would you prefer escaped-lab-rat boy?” Hawks was silent. “That’s what I thought.”

The next time Hawks ran into Dabi, or maybe the next time Dabi stalked him down, he was at a seedy bar, waiting for a potential job offer to show up. The cyborg-looking man smoothly slid into the booth across from him, having seemingly no regard for the disgruntled glare the action earned him.

“You,” Hawks said dryly. “Again.”

“Me,” Dabi echoed back mockingly. “Again. Your observational skills are shit.”

“You’re doin’ a bang-up job of making me want to talk to you, sweetheart.”

“Ooh, degradation kink ain’t doing it for the guy who knows where the BDSM clubs are?”

Hawks snorted and rolled his eyes, absently swirling the drink in his hand as he smirked in Dabi’s direction. “Hardly call that degradation. Besides, rich folk like it at those clubs. This kinda area, rules are looser and people are easier to buy. Nobody’s gonna report it to the police if something unsavory happens to a worker. If you’re pretty and get them tipsy enough to forget your face, their wallets are nice to thin out.”

“And I’m assuming you’re ‘pretty?’”

Hawks raised a brow and leaned back in his seat as Dabi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Am I not?”

Dabi shrugged.

Hawks huffed, though he couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or amusement. “Get to the point. Why’re you interested in me?”

“You know a lot more about the Commission than almost anybody else not on the inside does,” Dabi started, and yep, Hawks had a feeling that was what it was about, going by the questions that Dabi had asked last time they’d seen each other. “You robbed the Commission President. That takes not only a lotta fucking balls, but a lot of knowledge, too.”

“Is that what you’re after, then?” Hawks asked, idly sipping his drink. “You want to pull a heist on the President? Sorry pal, but I stole enough last time I was there that they’ve definitely upped the security.”

“Mm,” Dabi hummed, a smirk crossing his face. “‘Last time you were there.’ You’ve been there multiple times then, I take it.”

And that was when Hawks realized he’d definitely stuck his foot in his mouth. Now, whether it was his still okay foot or his fucked up foot was open to interpretation. He pinched his lips instead of responding, and Dabi’s smirk grew wider.

“So,” Dabi leaned further forward, propping his head up on his hand, looking far too pleased with himself. “How much?”

Hawks stared at him for a long, long moment as he debated his next move. Dabi cocked his brow expectantly, and Hawks twisted his mouth before forcing it to settle into an easy smile as he leaned forward. “How much, you ask,” he repeated, a small purr to his voice as he cupped Dabi’s face, smooth metal gliding underneath his palm, bright blue eyes staring at him intensely as he leaned forward into Dabi’s space. He hummed consideringly, letting his fingers run up his jaw and over the shell of Dabi’s ear, rubbing his thumb over the piercings. Before Dabi could say a word, he twisted the other man’s black hair between his fingers and pulled him forward. “I’m not for sale,” he hissed into Dabi’s ear.

He let go of the arsonist as soon as he had grabbed him, knocking back the rest of his drink as he stood up from the booth. The prospective job offer he’d been waiting for wasn’t lucrative enough for him to keep putting up with Dabi, who was glaring at him with a scowl.

“Ta-ta,” Hawks said, wiggling his fingers over his shoulder as he walked away, though he wasn’t sure whether or not Dabi even saw it, considering the space his wings took up on his back.

He once again wasn’t burned into ash for his dismissive nature. Again, definitely odd considering what he’d heard about Dabi, but he still wasn’t going to complain.

At least he didn’t have to fly back to his and Rumi’s place that time. His leg bitched enough as he walked there from the railway station, so it was probably for the better.

He wondered how long it was going to take for Dabi to notice his missing earring.

“You stole a fucking earring from Dabi?” Rumi said incredulously as he dragged her along to the nearest tattoo parlor. “Scratch that, you stole from Dabi? The fucking arsonist anti-est guy who’s been stalking you?”

“I’ve ran into him twice, I wouldn’t call it stalking quite yet,” Hawks mused, rolling the smooth metal cuff between his fingers.

“Have either of those times seemed in any way unintentional?” Rumi asked him dryly. “‘Cause I think knowing exactly where you’re gonna be without telling him that shit is a red flag sign of stalking.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked her, raising a brow as they entered the parlor, the receptionist welcoming them with a cheery smile. “Call the police? Heyo,” he greeted the receptionist even as Rumi huffed, but held her tongue. “Eh, could I get a quick helix piercing?”

The receptionist, a teen girl who was probably too young to be working there, glanced down at something on her desk, probably the appointment logs, he was willing to bet, and nodded. “Mm-hm!” the girl hummed, her way-too enthusiastic smile never fading from her face. “Yep! We got someone free in a few minutes!” Hawks barely had time to nod in response before the girl beamed and bounced off to the back of the shop, probably to alert whoever was doing the piercing of their new appointment.

“Some people are way too happy,” Rumi said dryly. She looked back to Hawks, face clearly showing that she was not willing to drop their previous topic of conversation. “So you steal from fucking Dabi, and you decide to go get your ear pierced to wear it like some kinda trophy?”

“That’s pretty much what’s happening, yes.”

“How the fuck have you survived this long?”

“Luck and spite, mostly.”

She snorted. “Checks out.”

Hawks smiled and plucked a feather from his wing to idly fiddle with while they waited, as Rumi bullied her beat-up phone into working. Probably to text her girlfriend or something, but Hawks didn’t care enough to ask.

He noted the slight scratches in the red paint, and started doing mental calculations of how much it was gonna cost him to buy more. Red was an expensive pigment, so maybe he could stand to take a few more lucrative contracts. It’d probably bring him more attention than he wanted at the moment, but a few information drives from local police stations should bring in enough. Or, if he was desperate, there was always the option of rich folk on Twenty-seventh, but he didn’t want to scare them off.

“Next?”

Hawks’ head shot up and he pushed himself up from the chair he’d been waiting in. He waved at Rumi who made a dismissive gesture in return, staring down at her phone. Hawks rolled his eyes, but made his way through the curtain to the back, and the receptionist girl with the too-big smile and slightly crazed eyes pushed him through a door and slammed it shut behind him.

He froze.

“So,” Dabi said. “Funny meeting you here.”

Hawks really should’ve fucking looked more into the place before coming.

“Didn’t know you had a day job,” he smirked, exuding false confidence as he threw himself onto the cushioned table. He passively noted that the other man once again had four earrings on each side. It was a trial to not let his nervousness show as Dabi snapped gloves onto his hands and turned Hawks’ head to the side.

“Easier to not get questions about people going in and out if we at least pretend to look like a business,” he remarked blandly, wiping disinfectant over Hawks’ ear. “Don’t usually get much legitimate business, though. Been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Glad to be of service, despite how worrying that is.”

Dabi grunted. “Got an earring you want in specifically or you want some generic shit?”

Hawks was so going to regret his decision later, holding up the earring he’d taken from Dabi with a small smirk. “This work?”

Dabi blinked in surprise, taking the small metal cuff from him before he was given an unimpressed sneer. “Should’ve fucking known it was you.”

Hawks shrugged unrepentantly. “I was at that bar for a job offer, which, mind you, I didn’t get because you showed up. Had to make it worth my time somehow.”

“This is made outta fucking tungsten, do you know how expensive it was to replace this shit?”

“It is?” Hawks asked, ignoring the (likely rhetorical) question as he looked consideringly at the metal Dabi was wiping off with jerky, agitated movements. “Should’ve sold it then.”

“You’re a greedy little magpie, aren’t you?” he asked, looking unimpressed even as clamped the cartilage of Hawks’ ear and held up the needle, carefully lining it up.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, eye twitching from the slight sting as the needle went through. “Maybe. Living is expensive, y’know.”

Dabi grunted again as he inserted the jewelry, wiping it off one last time before peeling off his gloves. “So, birdie,” he said, throwing the discarded latex into a bin off to the side, crossing his arms. “We gonna have a conversation or are you gonna run away again?”

“That depends,” Hawks said, putting his hands down to lean back on the table, swinging his legs nonchalantly, hoping Dabi didn’t notice the slight creak of his left knee. “What do you wanna talk about, hotstuff?” He threw in a wink and a cheesy smirk for extra measure, earning himself a derisive scoff.

“The Commission,” Dabi said, straight to the point as always. “How much do you know about them, and why do you know so much about them?”

“Toldja, firecracker,” Hawks said, sighing and waving a hand dismissively. “I can’t be bought-”

“You take contracts and jobs from other people all the time,” Dabi cut him off, pulling over a rickety plastic chair and sitting in it, crossing his legs. “What makes this so different?”

Hawks smiled dangerously. “You really wanna know the answer to that question? I could just say it’s because they’re dangerous. I don’t want to bring down police and enforcers on my head. I don’t want to have to spend even more time avoiding the grid than I already do. What’s stopping me from just saying that?”

“Because we both know it’s not true. You’re very bold, and very flashy. What’s different?”

Hawks let his smile fall and he fell still, staring at Dabi for a long moment before he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If we’re associated and we piss off the Commission, my simple presence alone is bound to make their reaction significantly worse. You’re sure you wanna know?”

“You’re being dramatic, pigeon boy.”

Hawks snorted and rolled his eyes, slipping off the table as he reached his hands underneath his wings to undo his jacket before slipping over his head. “Alright, then,” he said flippantly, turning around and flaring his wings slightly to give Dabi a good view of his back through the large hole he’d torn in his shirt.

There was a moment of silence before Dabi responded.

“Am I supposed to be seeing something here?” he asked, sounding unimpressed, though Hawks was beginning to realize that wasn’t anything too out of the usual.

“Look closer,” Hawks said. He reached behind himself to run his fingers over where the metal merged with his skin. “See that?” Dabi grunted. “It’s probably as smooth an augment mod installation as you can get. No seam between the steel and my skin, they just kinda meld into one.”

There was a moment before Dabi responded. “So what, you’re a rich kid runaway or something? That why you know so much?”

“Nah,” Hawks answered easily. “I was pretty fucking poor, actually.” He reached his hand up a little further, careful to not let his fingers get cut on the edge of his feathers. He pressed awkwardly against the metal covering his spine until they ran across a small, familiar indentation. “Look here.”

He heard the plastic chair scrape against the floor slightly as Dabi stood up, and a moment later, a hand was pressed to his back, indentation framed between his index and thumb.

“Number twelve, batch three,” Dabi read off. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I was a Commission experiment, dipshit,” Hawks growled, glaring at Dabi over his shoulder. “That’s the point I’m trying to get at. Poor kids don’t get mods this high-tech or groundbreaking without getting picked up by someone with money. Or, in my case, something with money.”

Dabi hummed. “So what, you’re afraid they’re gonna recapture you?”

“No, I’m afraid they’re gonna kill me. I’m already on their shit list, leaking information about them is gonna put me on their hit list.”

When Dabi didn’t respond, Hawks huffed and pulled his jacket back on, securing it underneath his wings. He turned around slightly to face Dabi with a flat look.

“Thanks for the piercing and all that, but it’s gonna take a bit more than all this to make me willing to put my neck on the line for you.” He winked and blew Dabi a kiss as he walked out the door, leaving him standing there in the middle of the room. “See ya!”

And he shut the door behind himself, jogging slightly to the front of the store-probably-a-terrorist-hideout, not particularly eager to find out if that was the time Dabi would lose his patience and set him on fire.

“Finally done?” Rumi asked, looking up from her phone and shoving it in her pocket as she stood. “What the hell took so long?”

“Eh,” Hawks intoned, trying to not look too hasty as he exited and began not-quite speed walking down the street. “Dabi is an excellent piercer, but a shit conversationalist.”

“Fucking what.”

Hawks really hoped that three times was indeed the charm, and that Dabi would stop trying to fucking talk to him.

He had a few more pressing concerns than a wanted terrorist trying to talk to him.

The main one, however - the one that was definitely more concerning to Hawks, at least - was that his knee was getting worse. His entire left leg was getting worse in general. It hurt to walk, and he was probably only a few awkward landings away from early-onset arthritis. Or maybe he already had that? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t a doctor, nor could he see one. Legally. Illegally was just expensive.

That was his next problem. Money.

He ducked into an alley as an enforcer came around the corner, pressing himself close to the wall, and held his breath as the mechanism went past. While he knew the motion detectors weren’t extremely sensitive, he could never quite suppress the fear that they’d pick up the erratic beating of his heart every time they appeared.

He watched with wide eyes as it slowly rolled past, not daring to move his head to follow its movements as it crawled past the mouth of the alleyway.

He remained still as a statue for several minutes once the sleek surveillance machine went by, in case it came back on its return route.

He breathed a sigh of relief and peeled himself away from the wall.

“So, we meet again.”

Hawks would deny the sound he made until his dying days.

“What the fuck, dude?” he asked, holding a hand over his hammering heart as he glared at Dabi, whose metal skin had somehow escaped the enforcer’s notice. “You can’t just do that shit!”

“Oh?” Dabi asked, cocking his head as he smirked in amusement. “What’s stopping me?”

“The enforcer should’ve fucking stopped you!” he hissed, pointing out the alley where the machine had passed just a few minutes prior. “Dipshit!”

Dabi chuckled, clicking his tongue as he tapped his metal jaw. “I’m pretty well covered with this shit. Enough that I was able to get some stealth mods installed. Fucks with cameras pretty good. Did you seriously think I haven’t gotten caught looking like this through luck?”

“I just assumed you chased everyone away with your attitude,” Hawks muttered sourly, crossing his arms.

“Aw, don’t be like that, birdy,” Dabi cooed, throwing his arm over Hawks’ shoulders. “C’mon, take a walk with me. I’ll buy you food.”

Hawks glared at the ground, gnawing on his lip. On one hand, he’d have to spend even more time with Dabi, on the other…

His stomach twisted painfully.

He looked up to meet Dabi’s gaze. “How much food?”

And that was how Hawks found himself crammed into a filthy table at some run-down botjoint, Dabi sitting across from him, the other man’s eyebrows rising further and further towards his hairline with each burger he stuffed into his mouth and each time he flagged down the waitress bot for more.

“Are you a fucking black hole or something?” Dabi asked him incredulously, watching him accept the fifth tray of food from the bot.

“Or something,” Hawks said easily, already shoving the next bite into his mouth. “So,” he said, not bothering to swallow before he spoke, voice muffled slightly by the food in his mouth. Dabi looked disgusted with him. “You wanted to talk to me again?”

“I did,” Dabi said slowly, even as his lip curled slightly at Hawks’ poor manners.

Hawks internally smirked, but swallowed his mouthful before responding. “Do you have anything new to say to me or is it just gonna be a rehash of the past three times? ‘Cause this better be worth it, I could be down at a club scamming old men right now.”

“I wouldn’t bet too much on that,” Dabi said lightly. “The Commission’s started closing the crossing points between us and the higher districts. Both ways. I’m pretty sure the clubs you frequent will be closed by the end of the month.”

That was news to Hawks. He froze, just as he was about to take another bite of his burger, and stared at Dabi. He slowly lowered the food from his mouth and set it back on the tray, his hunger no longer the main thought in his mind.

“First you’ve heard of it, I’m guessing?” Going by the look on Dabi’s face, he already knew the answer to his question. “My group isn’t the only one working against the Commission anymore. They’re trying to stop our ‘rebellious sentiments’ from spreading to the middle and upper districts, and they’re doing it quietly.”

“So you’re the reason I haven’t been able to fucking eat or get painkillers recently,” Hawks said blankly. “Thanks, jackass. I rely on business from the middle districts.”

“You could just fly over the checkpoints, couldn’t you?” Dabi asked, though his curiosity seemed genuine that time. Hawks sighed as he shrugged, picking the burger back up with a slight frown.

“And what? Risk getting shot down?” He took another bite, and silence hung between them as he chewed and swallowed. “Flying takes a toll on my body. Mods have backlash, y’know?”

“Mm,” Dabi hummed. “Yeah. I get burnt pretty bad if I use mine too much.”

“How’d you get covered in so many, anyway?” Hawks asked. “Pyrotechnic mods? Stealth mods? Pretty high-end shit for a gutter rat.”

Dabi stared at him for a long, long moment before he answered, words level and carefully chosen. “I come from a rich family. I was a pretty shit son to have in high society, always criticizing the government and breaking censorship, all that. I was about to get shipped off to a correctional facility, so I stole as much money as I could and left.” He shrugged. “Got pretty injured in the process, though, so I just used it as an excuse to get enough mods to keep myself safe and unrecognizable. Came to the lower districts. Got even more radicalized, joined a terrorist group. Now we’re here. Answer your question?”

“Huh,” Hawks said, looking up at the ceiling as he thought instead of answering the question. After a few seconds, he looked back at Dabi, who was staring back at him, arms crossed, with an expectant expression. “You happen to have a mod on your dick or anything?”

Dabi made a choking noise, and Hawks found it worth asking the question if only for the incredulous, bright red look on the other man’s face. “What the fuck kinda question is that?”

“A genuine one,” Hawks said, shrugging. “I mean, you’re pretty hot for a terrorist. I’m still not super into your whole ‘tear down the government and if we fail we die,’ proposal, though I’m not exactly on the right side of the law either, but you’re a bit riskier than theft. Wanted to know if you had something worth hopping on before you went and got yourself killed.”

Dabi stared at him.

“Too forward?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s a compliment, but whatever. I’ll take it as a no.” Hawks stuffed the last of the burger in his mouth and stood up, swallowing the food fast enough that it was slightly painful. “Welp, this has been fun,” he said, stretching his arms above his head. His leg ached. He was going to have to ice it when he got back home.

With a spark of bravery he knew he was probably going to regret later down the line, he leaned across the table and kissed Dabi with a loud, obnoxious “Mwah!” sound. It did little to alleviate the red hue of Dabi’s face. Hawks allowed himself to smirk, satisfaction racing through him at finally getting one over on the arsonist.

“Call me if you upgrade your dick and wanna give it a test run before you’re put in front of a firing squad!” Hawks called back over his shoulder as he left the run-down restaurant. He received no response.

“Why am I even surprised anymore,” Rumi grunted, popping Hawks’ knee back into alignment as the man hissed. “Of course you offered to fuck the terrorist that’s been stalking you for the past two weeks.”

“I mean, I got food out of it at least.”

“Listen, Hawks, buddy. If you fuck him and you’re still able to walk, it definitely won’t be worth the legal ramifications.”

“Rumi, I’m about to lose the ability to walk without getting railed.”

She paused at that, any irritation falling from her face as she looked at him. “Yeah,” she said softly, wrapping up his abused joints to keep them as straight as possible. “I know.”

The fifth time Hawks ran into Dabi, he was almost starting to expect seeing the other at the weirdest times.

Well, it wasn’t weird for Hawks so much as it was embarrassing and uncomfortable.

“I’m not interested,” he said to the grungy guy leaning way too far into his personal space, for what had to have been the hundredth time. The guy trying to convince Hawks into kissing him was almost certainly drunk, and his fucking leg had given out, so he was stuck in his barstool, trying to restrain himself from stabbing the guy.

“Aw, c’mon, sweet wings,” the guy slurred, and Hawks leaned his head back because that was way too close. “Just one, I’m not asking much-”

“Hey, songbird,” a familiar, gravelly voice said from behind him, a metal arm wrapping around his waist, and Hawks could almost cry with relief. His head was tilted up for a quick peck on the lips. He didn’t even think about not playing along, eager to get the drunk away from himself. “This guy bothering you?”

“Not at all!” Hawks said cheerily, glaring at the guy who was staring at Dabi, even in his drunken stupor seeming to realize that he was not someone to fuck with. “He was just leaving. Right?”

The guy nodded frantically and stumbled away, and Hawks slumped, crossing his arms on the bar and resting his head upon them. “Fucking dickwad,” he muttered under his breath.

“You alright there, birdy?” Dabi asked, arm not moving from around his waist. Hawks sighed, tilting his head to give the man a tired look.

“Dickweeds don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer, and I can’t fucking walk.”

“Ah,” Dabi intoned, and Hawks didn’t know what the fuck that was supposed to mean. “C’mon,” the other man said, pulling out Hawks’ stool and turning around.

“Thought I’d at least get the dignity of a bridal carry,” Hawks snorted as he wrapped his arms around Dabi’s neck, the arsonist grabbing his thighs and hitching him up on his back.

“And splice myself open on your wings?” Dabi asked, a note of amusement in his voice as he maneuvered their way through the crowd and out of the bar. “I’d prefer to not be made of even more metal.”

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, tucking his head in Dabi’s shoulder as he was carried away, the loud, pounding music of the club fading with distance. “Thanks,” he said quietly, feeling his muscles slowly begin to unwind and relax as the streets grew quieter around them. “I… really appreciate it.”

Almost a minute passed before Dabi responded. “Don’t worry about it.”

Hawks huffed softly. “So were you seeking me out this time? Or was it an accident?”

“Accident, surprisingly. I didn’t think we had any common areas between us. I think I would’ve remembered seeing you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

Dabi grunted in response. They kept going in silence until Dabi approached a bench, stationed underneath one of the few remaining working streetlights and not bathed in the seedy neon glow of the streets at night. He shifted Hawks off his back, gingerly setting him down. He crouched in front of him.

“You said you couldn’t walk - are you injured?”

“You do care!” Hawks laughed, though it quickly petered out underneath Dabi’s flat glare. He sighed, reaching down and pulling the hem of his cargo pants out of his boot, and bunched it up above his knee, giving the other man a clear view, and was rewarded with a worried look. Hawks tried to not wince himself, the skin around his knee inflamed and red, the joint itself swollen and stiff. “I might be able to fly, but the human body isn’t built for that. I might hold up better if I’d been born to do this, but…” He sighed again, letting the hem of the pant leg drop, not bothering to tuck it back into his boot. “Human joints aren’t made for the jolt and strain of landing. Honestly, I’m lucky it’s my knee and not my hip or my spine that’s giving out first.”

“Why do you keep flying, then?”

Hawks paused, considering his words carefully before he answered. “At first, it was because it made me feel free. The only place I could be certain I wasn’t being watched was in the clouds. Then, it became fundamental to my way of life. Now, I can’t even walk properly so I don’t have a choice but to fly, unless I feel like hobbling my way through the streets on my crutch in the middle of the night.”

Dabi stared at him with an indecipherable look, and didn’t respond.

Hawks smiled bitterly. “Come on, tough guy. Help an old bird to his feet. I think my knee is good enough to get back home.”

Dabi snorted, but clasped Hawks’ arm and helped him to his feet regardless. “Are you sure you’re okay to get back on your own?”

Hawks laughed and responded with “I don’t usually bring people home until we’ve had dinner a few times, firefly,” hoping to distract Dabi from the split second his leg almost gave out. By the quick downward dart of blue eyes, he wasn’t successful. He didn’t acknowledge it, however, taking a few steps away, keeping himself upright and steadfastly ignoring the pain racing up his spine from the way his knee grinded. “Thanks for the help, hotstuff, really, but-”

“You know we have doctors, right?”

Hawks cut himself off at the soft interruption, looking over his shoulder to meet Dabi’s serious gaze.

“Shock-absorbing boots, knee and leg braces, injections to keep your knee working. We’re not a ragtag group with no resources. We can help.”

Hawks sighed, wings rustling and clinking, almost like windchimes, as he crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders. “Let me think about it,” he said quietly, closing his eyes.

“Here.” His eyes shot open again to see Dabi in front of him, holding out a small slip of paper that looked like it had been ripped from something. He blinked, cocking his head as he took the scrap. “My number.”

“Aw,” Hawks cooed, tucking it into his front pocket. “Only took me five dates to get your number!”

“Oh, so these are dates, then?” Dabi asked, a spark of amusement finally crossing his face as he stepped closer and took Hawks’ chin in his hand. “I better kiss you goodnight, then, shouldn’t I?”

Hawks barely had a chance to squeak before mismatched lips were pressed against his, and he found himself unable to do much but quietly whimper and press back. Maybe getting personal with Dabi was quite literally like playing with fire, but fuck if it didn’t make him feel alive.

He was pretty sure he was as flushed as Dabi had been the last time they’d parted ways by the time the arsonist finally pulled away. “Remember,” he whispered against Hawks’ lips. “Call me if you need anything, pretty bird.”

And one more kiss was pressed against his lips before Dabi stepped back, a smirk on his face, and he began walking away, waving a hand over his shoulder.

Honestly, Hawks was pissed and keyed up enough in that moment that he was surprised Dabi hadn’t incinerated him for doing the same thing.

Hawks saw Dabi a few more times in the following weeks. Nothing of much note was said between them. Dabi didn’t make any more moves to try and coerce Hawks to throw his lot in with the anti-establishment movement, and Hawks didn’t do anything with the number that sat heavy in his front pocket.

They made small talk, mostly, talking about anything but the offer that had brought them together to begin with. They continued whatever the fuck it was that was going on between them, their partings ranging from soft, chaste kisses to Hawks spending a feverish, drawn-out ten minutes pressed against a wall as Dabi ravaged his mouth. He didn’t exactly know where they stood with each other, and he wasn’t exactly going to ask.

‘Boyfriend’ or ‘Aggressive makeout buddy’ or whatever of a wanted terrorist isn’t something he wanted to think too hard about being.

In those weeks, his leg got worse and worse, and Dabi asked about it every single time they saw each other with a worried crease in his brow, a small frown on his face whenever Hawks limped or had to sit and take a break.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise then, to Hawks at the very least, when he landed back on the rooftop of his decrepit apartment building, and his knee made a sickening crack sound. Hawks choked on air as he immediately collapsed to the ground, vision going fuzzy as agony raced up his spine.

Alright, fuck, he thought as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, wings twitching and scraping across the concrete as he struggled to move.

His breathing was labored, but, ignoring the white-hot iron being pressed into his leg, he managed to take one deep breath and call out “RUMI!” as loud as he could, desperately hoping the woman was in.

He was in luck, as less than a minute later, the door to the roof slammed open and Rumi burst out looking around frantically before her eyes settled on Hawks. She froze for a split second as a look of horror drew across her face and she raced to his side.

“Shit, Hawks,” she whispered, kneeling beside him, hands hovering uncertainly.

“I think I’ve pushed my leg as far as it can go,” he said with a weak smile. He winced as his knee throbbed. “‘S been a good run, but I don’t think I’m gonna get much more mileage.”

“You absolute fuck face,” she said softly as she gathered him into her arms. A look of sympathetic pain crossed her face at his groan when his leg was jostled in the process. “You dipshit, god fucking dammit. Now what?”

Hawks took a few moments to focus on keeping his breathing steady and not panicking as Rumi shouldered the rooftop door open. “I… have precisely one option that doesn’t involve either massive fraud or a shit ton of stealing that I am currently incapable of doing.”

Rumi froze, halfway down the stairs, and looked at him, long and hard. “I’m not going to like whatever comes out of your mouth next, am I?”

“Probably not, no.”

“I want it to be made explicitly clear,” Rumi said to Dabi as Hawks sat in a wheelchair, “that if he is hurt in the slightest way or you don’t deliver on your promise of fixing him up, I’m going to tear your fancy metal head in two.”

“Crystal clear,” Dabi responded dryly.

Hawks rolled his eyes at their dramatics, instead choosing to roll his shoulders yet again, frowning at the complete lack of weight on his back. His wings had been completely disconnected from their ports, something that hadn’t happened in… at least a decade, probably, all in preparation for surgery.

They were working on his knee, not his back, but he supposed they wouldn’t want the surgeons to have to maneuver around two giant knife racks.

Rumi ‘hmph’d at Dabi’s answer, but didn’t say anything more, instead turning to look at Hawks. “You sure about this?”

“If I don’t do this or it doesn’t work, I’ll spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair,” Hawks said blandly. “I don’t expect you to get it, but being this close to the ground constantly kinda sucks.

“It’s that attitude that probably got you into position to begin with,” Dabi mused, a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“Oh, it is,” Rumi said easily. “No matter how many times I told chicken-shit here to fucking take it easy or find a different way of landing, he didn’t listen to me.”

“Sounds about right. That thing he does where he acts like your concern is a joke?”

“Oh my fucking god, yes.”

“Excuse me if I’m worried about you having to amputate your leg!”

“Okay, you know what,” Hawks cut in. “Can you two go back to hating each other? This is horrible.”

“You concern me more than I hate him, as you can tell by the fact that I even brought you here,” Rumi snapped.

“Thanks.”

Dabi snorted. “Anyway,” he said, straightening up as his face smoothed over. “Since Hawks decided to push himself to his literal breaking point-”

“I feel very attacked right now.”

“-this surgery won’t be able to fix his knee, not completely anyway,” Dabi continued talking as if Hawks hadn’t even spoken. “We’ll do the best we can without straight-up giving him mods or a prosthetic. We can hook him up with a brace that’ll keep his knee from falling out of alignment again, and we recently joined with another group that has a pretty talented tech guy that can figure out some shock absorption shit to take off the rest of the strain.”

It… wasn’t ideal, but Hawks could live with it. He could fly with it. “Yeah,” he said, nodding after a moment, meeting Dabi’s eyes. “Yeah, I can live with that.” He paused, wondering whether or not to speak his next thoughts. He sighed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. “I guess I’m in your debt now, aren’t I?”

It was a long moment before Dabi answered.

“If it were up to me, I’d give this to you, no strings attached.” Hawks’ eyes shot open at that, and his head swiveled to look back at Dabi, who wasn’t meeting his eyes. “But these aren’t my resources to use. Shigaraki, at the very least, is definitely going to be expecting something to come of this.”

Hawks sighed, and pointedly didn’t look at Rumi, whose face twisted with displeasure at the situation. “How much does he want from me?”

“For just the surgery? Likely just some basic shit, like profiles, habits, weaknesses, layouts, shit like that. For the brace and boots as well? He’ll be expecting you to spill a fuck ton more information than that. Probably gonna have to recount a lot of what you remember from growing up.”

Hawks bit his lip. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

Dabi crouched down to be on level with Hawks, meeting his eyes. “Are you sure? If you don’t want to, there’s a few favors I can probably pull to tide him over.”

Hawks gave him a soft little smile. “You’ve gone out of your way enough for me already. I think I can do the same for you.”

Dabi gave him a skeptical look, but leaned forward and pressed their mouths together in a chaste kiss regardless, ignoring Rumi’s disgusted noise in the background. “Alright, then.” And he kissed Hawks one more time, allowing Hawks to brush a hand over his face before it tangled in his hair.

They pulled apart with smiles on their faces (Rumi gagged and walked out of the room at that point).

As Dabi stood up, he paused, and a hand drifted upward to graze along the path Hawks’ hand had just ghosted over. He looked down at Hawks. “Did you steal another fucking earring?”

Hawks held up his prize with a cocky smirk.

It took Hawks a while to fully return to consciousness, his mind feeling hazy and his body numb. His nose twitched, and he almost managed to scowl when he noticed he was lying on his back, which was - odd. It took him a moment to remember his disconnected wings, and the feeling of wrongness was replaced by a feeling of crippling vulnerability.

His wings were what had protected him so far in life, and he didn’t like not having them on him.

It could’ve taken him anywhere from a few hours to a few seconds, but he slowly managed to peel his eyes open, blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the bright light of his room. He groaned at the slight sting of his eyes, but steadfastly managed to keep them open long enough to adjust properly.

“You awake?”

Hawks paused, and slowly turned his head to the side. Dabi leaned on the side of his bed, looking down at him with a gentle smile that looked odd on the dark steel of his face. It took Hawks a few moments to remember the question.

“Yeah, pretty sure I am,” he managed after a few seconds, voice coming out dry and scratchy. “How long have I been out?”

“A few hours. Anesthesia knocked you right out.”

“Ah,” he intoned intelligently. He laid there for a few more moments before speaking again. “Did it work?”

“Yeah. It worked.”

Hawks couldn’t control the smile that split across his face. He hadn’t felt so free of pain in well over a year, and while he was fairly confident that was mostly due to the anesthesia, it didn’t change the absolute euphoria that raced through his system.

Dabi chuckled at his expression. “You’re not gonna be racing around just yet - recovery’s gonna be upwards of six weeks.”

“Yeah, but knowing that there’s at least a chance again is fucking incredible - you should really try it, damage a limb almost beyond any repair and then get it back because your boyfriend’s a terrorist, it’s a fucking trip.”

“Oh ho, boyfriends, are we?”

Hawks paused and looked at Dabi, who wore that indecipherable smirk on his face. “Are we?”

Dabi huffed in amusement, leaning down to press an awkward sideways kiss to Hawks’ mouth. “Sure, pretty bird. We’re boyfriends.”

“Oh. Oh, okay, shit, this is really happening,” Hawks fumbled, a flush rising to his cheeks as his eyes looked anywhere but at Dabi. “Okay, fuck, not what I expected when I woke up, um-”

“Calm the fuck down,” Dabi said, laughing. “It’s not like I’m proposing or some shit like that.” Hawks’ mouth shut with a click and his face felt even hotter as he tugged the sheets of the bed upward to cover his face to just below his eyes, purely so he could glare at his boyfriend (and wasn’t that an exhilarating thing to even think?) “You literally asked me if I had a modded dick and kissed me, and this is what gets you flustered?”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Mm, no you don’t.”

“Shut up.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“You’re horrible.”

“You love it.”

“Lies and slander.”

Dabi didn’t grace him with a response that time, instead choosing to kiss him once more.

Hawks probably lasted all of three seconds before he melted into it, allowing their mouths to slot together easily.

Hawks might’ve ended being forced to throw in with the fucking anti-establishment movement in the end, but at least he got a hot boyfriend out of it.

“Hey, birdy,” Dabi said quietly, pulling away with a smirk. Hawks made an acknowledging noise, not quite coherent enough to form words. “Thought it might interest you to know that I did mod my dick.”

Hawks paused. Processed Dabi’s words. And he shot up in the bed, looking at him incredulously. “And you didn’t fucking tell me?”

“Gotta keep a few surprises up my sleeve, don’t I?” he asked with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Hawks scoffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing the collar of Dabi’s shirt and yanking him forward.

“I don’t give a shit about surprises, that’s the kinda info I really want to be told.”

“But this is far more fun,” Dabi said, taking more delight than Hawks thought he should in his reaction.

“Again, I don't care. Now drop your fucking pants, I’m riding you, knee recovery be damned.”