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Dabi was not aware of the extreme strength that Hawks had been blessed with until it was too late, when they were in a hot crowded club and Hawks' hand came down around his scarred forearm like an anvil.
Dabi let fly a colorful string of swears. If Hawks broke his arm, he wouldn't live to see tomorrow.
“Let go of me, you fucking cockatoo, what are you doing— ”
He cut himself short when he saw the look of absolute terror in Hawks' eyes, pupils blown wide in the dark. The hero’s cheeks were flushed, his hair damp with sweat from the relentless pulse of everyone's body heat, and he clung to Dabi like he was the last lifeboat on the damn Titanic. Dabi had never seen him like this before.
Immediately his voice dropped to a less angry register. “What's wrong?”
Hawks only shook his head, sweaty strands of hair clinging to his face.
“Are you hurt?”
“I can’t— ” Hawks gasped, his free hand clawing at his chest. “I can’t breathe.”
Well, fuck. Dabi cast a glance over his shoulder to the set of double doors that would release them into an alley, if they made it there. But a sea of grinding bodies separated them from the door and Hawks’ grip on him was already outrageously tight. They were closer to the opposite wall than the doors.
“I’m moving you,” Dabi said, leaving no room for protest, and drove Hawks backwards through the crowd until his back hit the wall. They were still packed in like sardines, and Hawks’ eyes were wild with panic.
“Look at me,” he ordered, bracing his hands on either side of Hawks’ head to box him in. Hawks continued to hang onto him, his arm awkwardly raised to maintain his hold. “Don’t look anywhere else. I’m the only person in this room right now, alright? Just look at me.”
The talons Hawks worked so well to hide pierced through the leather of his gloves, into Dabi’s skin, and Dabi fought not to visibly react.
“I wouldn’t have taken molly with you if I knew you’d end up like this,” he said. “C’mon, Tweety, ease up a little.”
Hawks did not ease up. In fact, he squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip.
“Hawks,” Dabi commanded, and the hero’s eyes flew back open. “Eyes on me.”
Hawks was not a fragile man by any means, but he was physically smaller than Dabi, and it was easy for Dabi to tower over him. His bony shoulders curved in, shadowing Hawks’ face from the pulsing colors, and his hair fell over his blown-out eyes. He was staring at Hawks too hard, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop. Maybe it was the molly or the look of fear in Hawks’ face or both, but something had ignited in him, flickered to life. Thumb to sparkwheel. He wanted to cup his hands around it, nurture the flame until it roared.
“Sorry I brought you here,” he muttered. They were close enough that he was confident in Hawks’ ability to hear him, even with the throb of the bass. “This one’s my bad.”
“You did it on purpose,” Hawks accused in between labored panting. His cheeks were flushed and his blond curls had gone slightly limp. “You like it.”
Dabi’s eyes narrowed. He felt, oddly enough, insulted.
“I don’t need drugs and a crowded club to make you kneel, little bird. Don’t underestimate me.”
Hawks held his gaze even as he struggled for air, saying nothing.
“I actually wanted you to loosen up, if you’ll believe that,” Dabi went on. He leaned in close enough to feel Hawks’ breath on his face, hot and tinged with alcohol. “Thought we might have fun.”
“Sorry to throw a wrench in your plans,” Hawks managed. Whether he was being sarcastic or not was unclear.
“I’ll accept your apology in the form of payment for any impending medical bills,” he replied. He cast a look over his shoulder and found that the crowd had cleared a little, giving them an easier exit.
"You wanna step out for a sec?" At Hawks’ nod, he started guiding him toward the set of double doors. "You can loosen your grip, you're not gonna lose me."
The night air was cool on his face and had steam rising from the seams of his scars. His tolerance was clearly higher than Hawks'; he was enjoying a pleasant buzz while his hero contact was in a full-blown meltdown. The doors slammed behind them with a loud metallic thud, making Hawks flinch, and they were thrown into the nighttime quiet. Now Dabi could hear the labor of Hawks' breath.
"Can you let go of me now—" Dabi tried and failed to pry Hawks off of him— "no, okay, not doing that."
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Hawks managed between gasps for air. "I can't control it, I just— I freak out and, I don't know."
Dabi's brow furrowed. "Is this part of your whole bird thing?"
Hawks nodded meekly, and Dabi had to move through the mild drug-induced haze to catch him when his knees buckled.
"We're sitting down," he said, easing Hawks onto the steps. "Feel that? Can't fall if you're sitting."
Hawks was, at this point, fully immersed in the waterworks: tears streaming down his face and smudging his eyeliner, and barely repressed sobs.
"I fucked up," Dabi conceded. "This one's on me. No more uppers, okay? Promise."
Hawks nodded, clearly trying to get a hold of himself and not succeeding.
"It was too much in there," Hawks choked. "Too much, my head feels too full, I..." His breath hitched.
"You're overstimulated." Against his better judgement, he reached over and rested his hand between Hawks' wings. "Happens to everybody. Usually without the two-ton grip, but you know."
"Sorry—"
"Stop saying you're sorry and just breathe." He rubbed Hawks' back, thumbing the ridges of the hero's spine. "I got you."
Hawks' shoulders sagged forward a little, and he leaned into Dabi with far too much trust. A chill ran through him and Dabi instinctively, stupidly, pulled him closer. His right arm was still awkwardly stretched across his body with Hawks latched onto it.
Hawks rested his head on his shoulder, and his cheek brushed against the soft (if not slightly sweaty) blond curls.
"There you go," he murmured. "You got it, just take your time. We got nowhere to be."
A sad little sound broke from Hawks' throat. Then it happened again.
"Are you cooing?"
“Don't make fun of me,” Hawks croaked.
“Not making fun, little bird.” He smoothed Hawks’ hair. “Just asking.”
Hawks sniffled. “Calms me down,” he admitted.
“Okay,” Dabi replied. “See? Not teasing you. I’ll make fun of you when you’re sober.”
"Wow, thanks."
"You're so welcome."
"My handlers don't like when I do this sorta stuff," he mumbled. "The noises, and stress gripping. I get punished."
"Why am I not surprised?" Dabi said. "Buncha cunts, all of them."
Hawks shook with what might have been weak laughter, and his hold on Dabi's arm slackened just a bit.
"They think my... bird-like qualities wouldn't be appealing to the public." Hawks trembled with another full-bodied chill. "I actually used to have feathers along my jaw, by my ears, you know? But they kept pulling them, and eventually they stopped growing."
Dabi stiffened. He thought of Touya Todoroki, whose bright red hair had been shocked to white from being overworked. "That's extremely fucked up."
"I know."
Hawks sounded so tired, so wounded, that Dabi wished he could march over to the HPSC and fry Hawks' handlers on the spot.
"And you're sure I can't kill them?"
"That would kind of give me away, don't you think?" Hawks exhaled sharply, and Dabi winced at the dig of talons.
“Ow, hey, alright, can you—”
“Sorry,” Hawks said for the dozenth time and fought to swallow. "I just, I don’t feel good. I think I gotta puke.”
“You're just worked up,” Dabi reassured. “Keep breathing."
Hawks shook his head miserably and leaned forward a little. “No, ‘m gonna puke.”
“Okay, but you still need to breathe. I can see you holding your breath, idiot.”
Hawks lurched, feathers puffing as his body locked up. Dabi held him steady by the chest while he threw up onto the steps below. It would've been nice to be a little less high right now, but he would make do. He’d done more complicated shit while higher than this.
“You got it, you're okay.” Dabi felt the hero’s heartbeat hammering away under his palm. “Better to get it all out. ‘S what my mom said, anyway.”
Hawks managed a weak, shuddering breath. A rope of spit dangled from his lower lip.
“Your mom?”
“Mhm.” He combed through Hawks’ hair. It was definitely the drugs making him open up like this, and he knew that, but he couldn’t stop despite the self-awareness. “I was a pretty frail kid. Got carsick a lot. My mom took care of me.”
Hawks spat into the mess at his feet.
“Mine didn't,” he mumbled, and heartache hit Dabi square in the chest. “Tried to, but… she just wasn't cut out for it, I dunno.” He gulped and jolted with an aborted gag. “Fuck, oh god.”
“Take it easy,” Dabi encouraged, sifting through all his cruelty to find a gentle tone. “Just let your body do what it wants for a minute, yeah? Hurts more to fight it.”
Hawks whimpered and pitched forward with a heave. He trembled in Dabi’s grip, still latched onto his arm.
“This’s embarrassing,” he managed.
“Oh, please,” Dabi said. “You saw me puke last week. We’re just calling it even.”
“Don't like…” Hawks swallowed hard. “Being vulnerable.”
“Fair enough.” He thumbed the vertebra at the nape of Hawks’ neck. “But it's just me, little bird. No spectators.”
A belch rolled up Hawks’ throat and he ducked his head to let excess saliva drip from his mouth, lolling open as he panted through nausea.
Pretty, Dabi thought, then immediately shook it out of his head.
“Everything’s spinning…” Hawks shut his eyes tight and let out a weak groan.
“I know, I know. You're doing great.” He shifted closer. “Lean on me, okay?”
“Don't wanna throw up on you.”
“You're not gonna throw up on me.” He presented his shoulder, bony and uncomfortable as it may have been, and Hawks rested his head against him. “There, just relax for a second.”
Hawks took deep, measured breaths with his eyes screwed shut. His grip gradually loosened, but Dabi didn't move his arm. Hawks' thumb massaged little circles into the scar tissue, then slipped down into Dabi’s hand.
“I can, uh.” He stared at their intertwined hands. “I can get us back to my place, whenever you're ready to go.”
“‘Kay.”
Thank fuck for that awful slime teleportation quirk Ujiko had harnessed. Hawks was still trembling and sweating and overwhelmingly sick to his stomach, and Dabi was not so cruel as to force him to walk.
The headquarters was alight with activity, even this late at night, so Dabi had them delivered straight to his bedroom. Quiet and dimly lit; a perfect place to ride out a bad trip.
“How you holding up?” Dabi asked. Hawks was like putty in his arms, weak and pliant.
“Been better,” Hawks replied. His face was bloodless— walking would have sucked unilaterally, but being teleported must have been hellish in its own way too.
Dabi eased Hawks out of his jacket and boots, then his shirt, and then— with a momentary pause to allow for a refusal from Hawks, and proceeding when he received none— his pants.
“Bed,” he instructed, and Hawks plopped down on the mattress without complaint. “You can lie down if you want, but stay on your stomach.”
Hawks shook his head and shifted uncomfortably, palming his chest as he swallowed hard.
“I’m… I don't think—” He let out a queasy hiccup. “Sorry, I’m still—”
“Don't apologize.” Dabi retrieved the trash bin in the corner and set it next to Hawks on the bed. Hawks curled around it and let his head droop over the rim, eyes closed and breathing ragged. Another hiccup rocked him slightly, followed by a retch.
“You'll get it out of your system by morning,” Dabi told him.
“Promise?” Hawks croaked.
“Cross my heart,” he said. “You gonna be okay by yourself for a minute?”
Hawks nodded, and Dabi slipped out into the hallway.
Only once he was down the hall did he realize how fast his heart was beating. He had Hawks in his room— his room. Helpless and needing his help.
“Burning Man!”
Twice was huddled next to one of the kitchen windows, letting the smoke from his cigarette waft outside. His mask was pulled up to expose his mouth and the stubble along his jaw.
“Hey, Twice.”
“Didn't see you come in.” Twice gestured to the window.
"Yeah, we went straight to my room."
“You having some fun with him? ”
Dabi snorted and rummaged through the fridge for a can of ginger ale. “He's tripping on E, man.”
“He okay?”
“Aside from nearly breaking my arm and hurling all over the alley, he's peachy.”
Twice's nose wrinkled. “Gross. You need help?”
“No,” he answered way too quickly, teetering on harsh. At the fall of Twice's expression, he added, “sorry, I didn't mean that. He's just kind of rattled right now. Don't wanna overwhelm him.”
“Uh huh.” Twice sounded like he was reading into Dabi’s words, like he’d caught onto something that had gone unsaid. “I get it, sparky. He's all yours.”
A bolt of heat shot through him. He’s mine. “That's not—”
“Save it.” Twice offered a grin, his cigarette dangling from his teeth. “I won't believe you.”
Sufficiently red in the face, Dabi found the can of soda he'd been looking for and quickly exited the kitchen without another word.
He's mine.
In his bedroom, Hawks had spread his wings behind him, crimson feathers trailing down his back and laid out across the sheets. They beat weakly, twitching, probably more of an unconscious reflex than a deliberate movement.
“Hey.” Dabi locked the door behind him and cracked the can open with a metallic pop. “Any updates I should know about?”
“Feel really warm,” Hawks said.
“Yeah, sometimes you'll get hot flashes.” He sat next to Hawks on the bed.
“No, no…” Hawks shook his head. “Warm, like…” He patted his chest. “Here.”
“Oh. Okay.” He passed Hawks the can of ginger ale. “Try some of this, it'll help your stomach.”
Hawks obediently took a sip. “You’re sweet to me.”
“I’m not sweet.”
“You are to me.”
He's high, Dabi reminded himself. He's high and he doesn’t mean anything he's saying.
“Sure, Tweety.” He peeled Hawks off the trash can and set it on the floor. “If you're lucky, you won't remember this tomorrow.”
“I wanna remember.”
A shiver ran down Hawks’ bare spine, ruffling his feathers, and Dabi grabbed his blanket from its crumpled pile at the foot of his bed. He draped it over Hawks’ shoulders and Hawks welcomed it, pulling it tight.
“Drink a little more and then you can lie down,” Dabi instructed, and Hawks did as he was told. It sent a burst of warmth through Dabi’s body, Hawks being docile like this.
“‘Kay…” Hawks extended the can to him, which he took and set on the bedside table. Hawks curled over himself until he was nearly in a fetal position, doubled over his knees on Dabi’s mattress.
“Yeah, there you go.” He patted Hawks on the back, over his blanket. “You're gonna be wiped out in the morning. Should try to get some rest.”
Hawks nodded in agreement and adjusted into a more comfortable position, shuffling closer to the pillow.
“I didn't think you'd be so at home in my bed,” Dabi said.
Hawks blinked up at him; his eyeliner was smudged beyond recognition. “I’m at home around you,” he replied.
Hawks may as well have hit him with a truck. He wasn’t built to be a home; he was all sharp corners and jagged edges. He was barely a home for himself. His body was almost uninhabitable, and his disposition was just the same. He’d done that on purpose. No one could hurt him if he didn’t welcome them in. But Hawks had somehow made himself a nest anyways.
“You're high as shit,” Dabi said, trying to brush off Hawks’ words as empty.
“That doesn't mean I’m lying.” Hawks wormed one of his hands out from under the blanket, searching for Dabi and finding his knee. It wasn't the too-tight, two-ton grip from before; it was feather-light, with his talons scratching gently against Dabi’s skin where the denim of his jeans was torn.
“You don't know what you're saying.” Dabi peeled Hawks’ hand from him and tucked it back under the blanket. “You're not yourself.”
“I am too myself,” Hawks protested.
“You're blitzed.”
“So? What, you think the way I am out there is more real than this?”
Dabi opened his mouth to argue, but faltered.
“I’m…” Hawks’ mouth twisted as he tried to find the right words. “I don't think I've been myself in a while. Whoever people want me to be, that's who I become.”
“Who are you when you're with me?” Dabi couldn't help from asking.
Hawks thought for a moment.
“I don't know,” he answered. “Someone new.”
This time Hawks found his hand instead of his knee, and he didn’t pull away. No one had been this determined with him before, had tried this hard. A lump formed in his throat.
“You can stay here,” he said with hot, flushed cheeks. “I mean, until you’re okay.”
Hawks hummed in understanding and burrowed deeper under the blanket, still latched onto Dabi’s hand. Dabi tentatively adjusted the grip so their fingers were laced, and was awash with relief when Hawks didn’t protest. Every moment that passed was a threat of Hawks suddenly coming to his senses and recoiling in disgust. But the moment never came.
Dabi remained motionless, watching him, until his breathing evened out into sleep.