Chapter Text
Here’s a fun science fact:
Birds consistently run at a higher temperature than humans do. It tends to range between 99 degrees Fahrenheit up to 112 degrees.
Hawks’ own body temperature tends to self-regulate around 106 degrees.
It’s something he and Rumi discuss often, if only because Rumi liked to snuggle up to him and comments on it constantly. She has no room to talk since she also runs at a higher temperature. Granted, it’s not much higher than your usual human baseline. She runs about a hundred or a hundred and one, depending on the season.
Needless to say, Hawks is a very popular patrol partner in the winter. Add in his feathers (which are amazing insulation, despite not being meant for it) and the large fluffy jacket he’s never without, and it’s not surprising that he’s almost never alone in the cooler weather, even if most of his companions can’t keep up with him once he gets going.
Neither his feathers nor his jacket are doing him any good right now, as soaked through as they are. His day had gone from bad (a long day topped off with a meeting Dabi ‘forgot’ to tell him about) to worse (an incoming cold front) to absolutely terrible (a storm that was preceding the cold front, resulting in rain, sleet, snow, or all three since this was Japan after all).
As soon as the sky opened up, Hawks insisted they take shelter. He’d herded Dabi towards the closest abandoned warehouse. He ignored the expression Dabi sported as he broke in. He didn’t care what the villain thought or how entertained he was by the action. He was a practical man and it was abandoned. Besides, if he didn’t get out of the wind and rain, he was at serious risk of going into torpor. The gear he was wearing today wasn’t meant for repelling water and it was about as much use as an icepack in winter.
There were a list of things he didn’t want to happen around Dabi, and going into torpor was fairly high up on that list, alongside bullet points such as ‘getting drunk’, ‘getting high’ and ‘running into another hero’. The best Hawks could expect from Dabi was for the villain to light his feathers on fire. At worst, he figured Dabi wouldn’t be the only burnt nugget around after he was finished with Hawks.
“Hey birdie, I’m not opposed to a show but take me out for dinner first.” Dabi said, watching as Hawks shrugged out of his coat and feathers in one fluid movement, catching his jacket before it fell off completely. He let his feathers fall to the ground with a disgusting splat. Laundering those would be less of a hassle than laundering his jacket. He draped his jacket over a nearby box in the vain hope that it might dry a little. It probably wouldn’t, but who knows. Maybe if he annoys Dabi enough, the fire-quirk user might raise the temperature in the warehouse by a few degrees.
“Ha. Ha. Not everyone has a fire quirk, asshole.” Hawks replied, giving what remained of his wings a shake to get as much of the water out. A quick look around the warehouse revealed it wasn’t as secure as he had thought, with great gaping holes in several of the walls. He shivered as the wind blew through them and started looking for anywhere that would provide a barrier between himself and the wind. He watched enviously for a moment as Dabi rolled his shoulders and began steaming slightly, burning the moisture out of his clothes and coat.
He spotted a pile of boxes, with several piled up on three sides to make a small nook and started to walk towards it.
“So, what do you have for me?” He asked, sitting down and scooting until he hit the back ‘wall’ of boxes.
Dabi shrugged. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d come.” He replied.
Hawks stared at him, not quite believing what he just heard.
Dabi’s growing grin cemented the fact that he had not, in fact, misheard.
“You’re an asshole. You seriously just called me out here on a whim? I’ve got better things to do, Dabi.”
“What, rescue people? In this weather? I think not.” Dabi said, slinking towards Hawks. Instead of taking a seat on the box directly in front of him, Dabi decided that the best place to sit was practically in Hawks’ lap. He shoved the hero over and leaned against one of the boxes that made up a makeshift wall and smiled at Hawks, daring him to do anything about it.
“Dick. So what now? Are you going to suggest we play Shiritori or I-Spy to pass the time? Since you invited me out for a playdate, we might as well.”
“That is not what I did.”
“You did it on a whim. It sounds like either a playdate or you miiiiiiiiiissed meeee.” Hawks said in a sing-song tone, delighting in the way it made Dabi’s face scrunch up in irritation.
“We could play ‘how many burnt feathers does it take to get to the crispy chicken center’.” Dabi held up a palm, a blue flame flickering to life in the center of it. Hawks looked between the flame and Dabi’s face and, very pointedly, brought his hands up to warm them.
“Thanks. My fingers were getting cold.”
Dabi huffed and closed his fist, snuffing the fire out.
When the bird actually showed up in the storm, Dabi wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He certainly wasn’t expecting the hero to stick around, let alone break into a building. Especially not the way he had. In the split second between Hawks looking at the door and breaking in, he’d assumed the hero would use a feather to lock-pick it. It seemed like something the hero would do- sufficiently flashy enough and sounded like the sort of party trick the pigeon would learn. Instead, Hawks had pulled out one of his larger feathers, slid it into the bend of the padlock and twisted it, using the feather like a lever and cracking the lock off with brute strength.
He wouldn’t say it intrigued him, but it was damn close.
There were still things about the bird he didn’t know and he was still half-convinced the hero was a spy, but shit like that definitely made him question that assumption.
The hero also annoyed the ever-loving hell out of him. More than Toga or Twice did, so he was hoping the bird would slip up and he’d have an excuse to roast the number two hero.
The storm outside had rolled in completely, throwing the warehouse into almost complete darkness. He and Hawks had stopped sniping at each other almost half an hour ago, the warehouse filled with the sound of screaming winds and hammering rain. He was pretty sure this was a new record for Hawks. If he gave a shit, he’d say something about being impressed. He didn’t give a shit and he was more interested in figuring out what the fuck was making that weird noise. It kept disturbing the quiet of the warehouse; it was almost a peeping squeak, like a chain swinging in the wind, but far more organic.
He lit up one of his palms, peering out into the darkness to see if he could spot the noise. All it did was make the shadows worse and throw the hero into an eerie light. The hero was sitting with his eyes closed, and as Dabi watched, about every third exhale the bird would shiver slightly and let out that peeping noise.
Was that… Hawks’ version of a snore?
Pretty ballsy of the hero to fall asleep next to him. Ballsy and stupid as hell. Slowly, he brought his hand closer to the bird, intent on setting at least one wing on fire.
Gold eyes blinked open, unfocused.
Dabi froze, waiting for the bird to react.
Hawks did, but not in a way Dabi had been expecting.
“Fucking hell-” Dabi spat as Hawks leaned against him.
The bird was freezing.
It was like getting hit by a wet washcloth that had been sitting in a freezer, and within moments he could feel the water seeping through his clothes. The bird was freezing and soaking wet.
Then the bird shivered again, almost cuddling into Dabi’s arms. Hawks’ eyes had closed again and it left Dabi with an armful of bird and no good idea how to handle this or how to feel about it.
Logically, Hawks was probably seeking out the warmth, and hell, maybe he was like Spinner. Spinner hated the cold and was about as tolerant of it as Dabi was of the heat. Guess that might explain the sleepy-thing. Spinner mentioned something about torpor once. Dabi hadn’t been listening because Spinner was goddamn annoying.
He brought his legs up, shifting Hawks so that he was sitting sideways and half on Dabi’s lap. One of his hands came up and, against his better judgement, settled on the remaining plumage Hawks had left on his wings. They looked comically small like this, and he had been wondering about how they felt.
Right now, they felt wet and cold.
He tsked and slowly heated his hand up, combing his hand through the feathers.
Slowly, they went from feeling like wet paper to delightfully smooth and soft.
Normally, Hawks enjoyed waking up. He had a nice bed and decadent sheets. He usually woke with the sun, and despite having an early shift, that still usually left him with an hour he could spend just basking in the delight of a nice bed. If he left the shades open, he could do so in a puddle of sunlight.
His bed didn’t feel right this morning. Too lumpy and for a moment he tried to recall if he had brought anyone home the night before. There was a hand combing through his hair, so there was a very distinct possibility that he had left the warehouse the night before and-
His eyes flew open at the thought.
He didn’t remember leaving the warehouse and-
“Chill your tits, bird brain. Just me.” Dabi said, giving a light tug on a lock of Hawks’ hair. He ignored the pleasant way it sent shivers down his spine.
“What the fuck.”
“Yeah. That was my thought too. Lemme guess- you go into torpor?” Dabi asked.
“Do I even need to answer that right now?” Hawks’ shoulders slumped and he groaned.
Fantastic. He did exactly the thing he hadn’t wanted to do. Dabi let out a soft huff, almost a laugh but not quite. Hawks leaned back, feeling an arm against his back and keeping him from going too far. Dabi didn’t look peeved, and that raised his hackles. His eye narrowed as he tried to figure out what happened.
“What?”
“You did something.” Hawks stated, running through a checklist in his mind. He didn’t feel any burns. Nothing smelled like ash. The only real change from before he went into torpor was his hair and wings were fully dry and his clothes felt, well, not dry but not sopping wet anymore.
Oh.
OH.
Dabi noticed the grin on Hawks’ face, and started spluttering. “You were just-”
“You preened meeee.” Hawks sang, laughing at the affronted expression on Dabi’s face.
“I did not. You were dripping everywhere.”
“Uh-huh. And that included drying my wings… why?”
“....Because they were there. So shoot me if I wanted to know if you had greasy bird feathers.”
“Nope. That the same reason you decided to sweetly comb through my hair? I mean, really Dabi. If you wanted to play with my hair and wings that much, you could have at least gotten me dinner first.” Hawks teased, stifling a laugh as Dabi’s expression went from affronted to a grouchy embarrassment, before then actually lifting Hawks up and dumping him on the ground.
One- Damn.
Hawks’ wasn’t heavy but he was mostly muscle so. Damn.
Two- He was just laughing harder now.
To think that Dabi got shy about being caught playing with hair.
He got to his feet, trying to brush the dust from his pants before giving it up as a lost cause.
“Well Hotstuff, thanks for the preen and playing heating pad. Guess we did get to know each other a little better tonight.”
Dabi flipped him off, sliding off the crates and making his way towards the door they came in through.
“Dabi?” Hawks called out. To his surprise, Dabi stopped, turning to look at him, dubiously waiting for the rest of his question. “For the next meeting, can I play with your hair?”
A moment later he was scrambling away from the fireball Dabi sent his way, despite knowing that it wasn’t a true attack and Dabi was only trying to get him to stop talking and hide his frazzled expression. Hawks watched Dabi make a beeline out the door, wheezing on his laughter as he gathered up his jacket and feathers.
Teasing Dabi was going to be so much fun.