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Dabi flops.
Several of the joints in Hawks’ back click and crunch with the weight of him, and he hears Hawks grunt above him, but the bird brain doesn’t move to shove him off, doesn’t even open his mouth to complain. He just shoots Dabi a mildly unhappy glare and loops his arms loosely over Dabi’s waist. Then he looks back at the ceiling and Dabi makes himself comfortable so that his hip joints aren’t digging into Hawks’ and his arms wouldn’t start to go numb with any awkward positioning.
“You,” Hawks mutters, staring sleepily at the ceiling, “are way more cuddly than I expected when I first saw you.”
“I’m sharp, bird brain. Literally.” Dabi points out, leaning his cheek over Hawks’ heart and trying to hide how comforting hearing the steady ba-thump, ba-thump is. “Plus I just hate touching people.”
“Hate it, huh?”
Dabi is about to smack his side when one of Hawks’ hands threads into his hair and his spine liquefies in his back.
He makes a low, honey-sweet noise and proceeds to try to suffocate himself in Hawks’ chest. The effort is futile, unfortunately, and he doesn’t end up dying before Hawks starts to push his fingers through Dabi’s hair. It’s almost like he’s petting him, in a way, but Dabi can’t think too hard about anything at all because Hawks is still petting him and cognitive thinking who?
If someone were going to attack them or Hawks was going to choose any time to betray him (again) this would be the perfect time because Dabi is positive he doesn’t have joints or bones anymore.
Dabi makes a weak noise when Hawks scratches gently at the back of his head and, when Hawks laughs quietly, Dabi doesn’t even have enough strength to do anything to get back at him. This should not be possible, it shouldn’t be this easy for anyone to tear down his walls and shit, but here Hawks is, being The Only Person to be able to do it. Dabi would snap at him, but the most he can muster is a grumpy-sounding mumble that doesn’t sound like actual words as he shifts to somehow get closer to the idiot bird.
The idiot bird laughs at him. Again.
Dabi really wishes he could pinch him, at the very least he wants to pinch him.
“Like that, Dabs?” Hawks says quietly.
What Dabi doesn’t say is that he’d been starved of tender, genuinely good human contact for basically his entire life. What he does say is something along the lines of ‘mmmrghshutfckup.’
Hawks huffs a laugh. “Trying to tell me to shut up?”
Against his chest, Dabi slurs a quiet, “Fucking bird…”
Hawks’ fingers twist and spread on the back of his head, gentle and sweet and making Dabi feel warm from the inside out. It’s a different kind of warmth from his quirk, less painful and less like hellfire, much more like the way a hot drink warms you up from the stomach and chest outward on a freezing cold day. It reminds Dabi of one day when Toga had literally yanked him out for a too-sweet latte that probably had maple syrup in it of all things. It’s… not a great memory, but it’s also not a bad one.
Better than most of the ones he actually retains (and definitely better than the ones his mind had suppressed for the sake of keeping him sane, though that bar is lower than low).
Warmth spreads in a dull, forceful pulse down his back when Hawks kisses the top of his head, and Dabi closes his eyes against the sharp pricking in them. It hurts to cry these days, probably something to do with how fucked up his face is. He doesn’t like to think about it too hard, prefers to just focus on Not Crying as best he can.
Hawks seems to notice, though, when Dabi turns his head and presses his face against his chest in a move that’s less for comfort and more to hide. Of course he notices. His hand stops moving in Dabi’s hair. Dabi almost, almost complains.
“Dabi,” Hawks’ voice is quiet, almost nervous. “What’s wrong?”
It takes Dabi a second to get his throat working. But he finally manages a raspy, “Nothing.”
“Why’re you hiding?” Hawks asks, barely more than a breath.
Dabi doesn’t say a word and silence falls over the two of them like a thick blanket. It pops and crackles in Dabi’s ears, almost enough to make him wince and hide more. He’d become accustomed to the near-constant motion and sound from the League’s hideout, so the pure silence that came from Hawks’ top floor suite and soundproof walls and silent vents and such is… unsettling. Well, it had been at first.
Now, when he hears it, he feels like it would be sacrilegious to break it. So he stays silent, feeling word after word die on his tongue as his brain becomes increasingly empty of thought.
But eventually Hawks seems to get just a bit worried, and he uses a hand on Dabi’s cheek to lift his head up from his chest.
When he meets Hawks’ eyes, he catches his breath. There’s more emotion, more warmth and affection in those eyes than Dabi had ever seen. He doubts he’d ever get tired of seeing Hawks look at him (if only it didn’t involve his ugly mug being seen).
“Dabi.” Hawks says his name and Dabi closes his eyes.
Slowly, he shakes his head. Just a little bit.
“Not Dabi?” Hawks’ tone is tentative. Nervous.
“Just… not my name.” Dabi whispers. “But not that.”
“Just you?”
Dabi nods ever so faintly.
“Okay.” Hawks tilts his head up and presses a lingering kiss to his forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“Um.” Dabi swallows, voice breathier than he wants it to be. It gives away how anxious he is, how utterly terrified of everything that had become tender between them.
Hawks waits as he gathers himself, infuriatingly patient. Dabi catches himself thinking he’d almost prefer if Hawks was impatient with him when they got like this so he’d just spit it out, but… that’s neither who Hawks is, nor is it a good thing. In fact it’s rather toxic and… Dabi may not be trying to treat himself any better, but he’s not going to corrupt Hawks’ beautiful soul with asking him to snap at him.
It would move things along quickly, but it would also push Dabi away quickly. Dabi knows himself well enough to know that he’d be out a window and across the country before either of them could talk about it.
“Not used to… this.” Dabi rasps, trying to sound apathetic. “It’s just new.”
“Good new or bad new?” Hawks asks.
Dabi, for a moment, wants to run for his life. He wants Hawks so badly, but he also wants someone he actually deserves. Someone so much worse.
“Good new.” His voice is trembling, much like his fingers against the bed. He grips it in fists, tight enough he feels his nails dig into his palms.
Graciously, Hawks lets him hide his face against his chest again, one hand moving back into his hair but not moving. It takes Dabi a long time to even think about moving or speaking or, gods forbid, looking at Hawks again. Takes him perhaps a bit too long but, as always, Hawks doesn’t push him and doesn’t grab him, doesn’t do anything that Dabi knows he deserves.
How are you mine?
“Not used to… nice touches.” Dabi mutters, voice barely more than a low, quiet rumble. “It’s weird.”
“Not weird.” Hawks says quietly.
His hand starts to move in Dabi’s hair again and he feels himself relax once more.
“It’s not weird.” Hawks says again. “React how you need to.”
“But-”
“Hey,” Hawks’ tone goes gentle and Dabi’s voice lodges in his throat. “Sweetheart. It’s not weird. You aren’t weird.”
Dabi blinks several times in rapid succession, not really seeing the wall of windows in front of him. He’s blinking for the sake of blinking and to try to dull the sharp stinging pain in his eyes. His body wants to cry.
“Mm.” Dabi sighs. Then he turns his head a fraction of an inch until his mouth is against the skin of Hawks’ chest, right above his heart, and he mumbles, “You can keep going.”
“Okay.”
And he does. Slow at first, but he eventually builds up a rhythm that does more to clear Dabi’s head than any drug or alcohol he’s ever tried. And he’s tried a lot of shit in his lifetime. But this? This is a new kind of empty headedness and Dabi simultaneously hates and adores it.
He’s vulnerable, but he’s vulnerable on his own terms. He could be attacked, but it’s just him and Hawks. He’s defenseless, utterly and completely without any sort of shell, metaphorical or otherwise, but he’s with Hawks. What could happen to him here?
His mind throws several suggestions at him.
Dabi pointedly dismisses them all.
And, when he manages to close his eyes and ignore the stinging in his eyes and hides his face once more against Hawks’ chest, he mouths two little words he’d never ever expected he’d say in his life.
Not the three, though.
He doesn’t have enough courage for all three.