Archive of Our Own

1. Stress Grip

Natsuo knew quirk drawbacks. He was genetically programmed to be intimately aware of them, since he was practically quirkless and born into a family of fire. Touya would come home with purple burns stretching his skin and his father was so insensitive to heat that even as his skin melted and his blood boiled he would continue to burn just as brightly. 

So yeah, Natsuo knew a bit about quirk drawbacks. He had spent his whole life cleaning up after messes caused by men with egos so big that they blocked their view of their own imminent self-destruction. Meeting Hawks just proved to be even more of a headache.

It wasn’t like Natsuo wasn’t used to Endeavour fans. He had been cornered in the street, at school, in shops just for the slightest chance that for some reason he might give up his father’s phone number up to some crazed stalker. 

Hawks was different though. He didn’t like Endeavour because he was flashy or strong or attractive, he liked him for the same reason that people liked good men like All Might: Hawks viewed Endeavour as a symbol when he had no right to. 

Natsuo had watched interviews with Hawks, interviews where he talked about the need for competition in the heroing business, the need for people to actually try to surpass All Might instead of being content within the top 5, top 10, top 100.

A part of Natsuo knew that Hawks wasn’t aware that the things he glorified had destroyed their family. Hawks hadn’t known that the thirst for victory had driven his father into some violent, hollow form in the shape of the man he used to be. Still, the dominant part of Natsuo screamed at Hawks for his naivety, his blindness to the insanity he promoted. 

Then they met and Natsuo’s hatred melted into distant, bitter pity. Hawks was delusional but in no way malicious. 

“I’m Hawks, It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His smile was lazy as he offered a gloved hand for a handshake.

“Natsuo.” He introduced himself but didn’t take the offered palm. Fuyumi did though, grabbing it with two pale hands and shaking vigorously!

“I’m Fuyumi. I want to thank you for sticking by my father.” Her voice was soft and her face gentle. Natsuo wanted to scoff at how painfully good of a person she was, but he couldn’t find it within himself to hate someone who loved as earnestly as Fuyumi did. 

His father stood behind Hawks, all broad shoulders and averted gaze. This was the man Natsuo had resigned himself to hating; the grudge was sharp, it cut and tore at his chest, but it would be more painful to dislodge it, so it sayed, nested deep inside him. 

Hawks smiled warmly at Fuyumi but his gaze kept flickering back to Natsuo, cautious and uncertain. 

“Hawks is staying for dinner; would that be alright Fuyumi?” Enji asked, voice gruff but calmer than it had been in years. The meer fact that he asked instead of demanding was a marked improvement. 

“Of course! Shouto is coming as well so I made extra anyway.” 

Natsuo swallowed the bitter lump that had formed in his throat as the stranger was invited into their home so casually. Hawks kicked off his shoes at the doorway; his sockwere Best Jeanist themed and dirty. 

“I hope you don’t mind spicy curry.” Fuyumi said as she led Hawks to the kitchen. “Natsuo likes his food hotter than most sane people.” 

Hawks chuckled; it was a warm sound and Natsuo sneered. Warmth didn’t have a place in this house, only scalding heat did.

 “I don’t mind. I have dined with your father enough times to grow accustomed to the Todoroki taste buds.”

Enji grumbled but he didn’t protest the jab. Natsuo was so prepared for a sudden flare of heat, a sudden shout at a perceived insult, that when all that happened was a scoff he somehow felt empty. 

He hated that Endeavour had left him like this, so prepared for maltreatment that anything else felt foreign. Even when there was no reason for an exchange to bring him rage it did because how dare he? How dare he have acted like that all those years when he had the capacity to be like this, subdued, almost gentle. 

Either those years of abuse were needless, the product of something controllable, or this current Endeavour was fragile, a ceramic pot placed in the kiln with one too many air bubbles. Natsuo didn’t want to be around when he finally shattered, but he also couldn’t leave Fuyumi, couldn’t love Shoto or his mum. 

They sat round the wooden table; it was too small for all of them so Hawks’ shoulder was pressed against Natsuo’s. The only ones who seemed capable of conversation were Hawks and Fuyumi, chatting amicably about work and current events. 

Natsuo stayed silent and Enji only chipped in when directly addressed. It was awkward but Natsuo was grateful for Fuyumi’s presence or it would have been intolerable. 

The doorbell rang after half an hour of conversation and Fuyumi went to answer it without hesitation as if it was her job to tend to every mundane little household task. Enji watched her leave with sad eyes and Hawks coughed awkwardly into a clenched fist. 

“So, Endeavour-san tells me you’re studying medicine?” Hawks asks, craning his neck at a painful angle to face him despite their proximity. 

“Medical Welfare.” Natsuo corrects. Enji flinches. Hawks’ smile doesn’t even falter, the power of a public figure was immense. 

“How are you enjoying it? Medical school isn’t easy to get into, you must be bright.” 

Natsuo controls the urge to sneer at the cheap compliment. “I am enjoying it a lot since my quirk is too useless for me to ever become a hero. I thought this route might be the best way to help people.” He spat. 

Endeavour shrank in on himself, curling his shoulders and bringing his hands in. It was a pathetic display but Hawks didn’t stop. 

“Very admirable! I would have liked to have gone to college but alas,” he fluffed his wings as if that explained why he couldn’t get a higher education. Natsuo didn’t press further. It wasn’t like he cared. 

“Shouto’s here!” Fuyumi called, cutting through the rapidly settling tension. As promised she arrived in the kitchen doorway with Shouto at her side. He was as eerily as still as always, blinking slowly and hands steady at his sides. 

“Natsuo.” He greeted with a small bow then nodded to his father, face level but something bitter lingered there that hadn't before. “Hawks, Tokoyami has told me a lot about you. It is an honour to meet such an admirable hero.” 

Hawks brightened at that, chin tipping up and eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. “The honour is mine! your class is certainly putting us pros to shame.” He chuckled but there was such a painful truth to the statement that he laughed alone. 

Shouto nodded in acceptance, not one to deny obvious truths even when it made him look slightly conceited. It was something Natsuo had hated in their younger years but now it just made him proud, even if he had no right to be (too distant, too bitter to feel as fond of Shouto as he should). 

Shouto sat next to Fuyumi, folding his legs under himself methodically and still not addressing Endeavour’s presence. 

“It’s good to see you, Shouto.” Endeavour tried, his voice was strained. “Eraserhead tells me you are performing well.” 

Natsuo saw Hawks wince from the corner of his eyes, it seemed like a fair reaction when the whole reason their family was left like this, chipped and cracked, was Endeavour’s obsession with Shouto’s performance. 

“How long until dinner is ready?” Shouto ignored Endeavour, directing his question at Fuyumi. 

“5 more minutes. I’m sorry, I should have started preparing it sooner.” 

Shouto shook his head at the apology “No, it’s fine. I was just curious.” 

Then silence settled, not slowly but so rapid that it was almost painful. It was oppressive, choking and suffocating. Endeavour looked the most bothered by it, fidgeting and shifting in a way that would have made Natsuo feel pity for any other person in the world but he held no sympathy for this husk of a man before him.

The only sound was the sizzle of the curry on the hob and breathing. It was tense but Natsuo had grown up in a frozen home, it wasn’t like he struggled with prolonged silences like this- in fact watching Hawks’ squirm with discomfort was almost funny. 

The five minutes stretched for longer than should have been possible, only interrupted by Fuyumi’s brief attempts to make conversation with Shouto which were met with one word answers and nods. 

Fuyumi pushed up from her seat, smile strained but still there. “I’m going to start serving. so if anyone has any portion preferences let me know.”

“Ah, I’ll only have a small amount, please.” Hawks requested, patting his stomach as if in explanation when really it only drew attention to how thin he was. 

Endeavour’s lips parted, words bubbling up but they morphed into a cough. Natsuo couldn’t help but be glad for it; a tense family dinner was probably not the place to have that type of discussion however necessary it may be. 

Fuyumi looked uncertain, but she nodded and turned to begin serving. As unfamiliar as the setting was, riddled with unaddressed tensions and unexplored uncertainties, the curry was a comfort. 

Fuyumi had been following the same recipe since she had first been allowed to start cooking. Natsuo must have had it thousands of times, but he was nowhere close to being bored of it; rather the emotions evoked were nostalgic, almost sad. 

“It smells great, Fuyumi.” Endeavour tried, hands curling into fists atop the table. 

“Thank you!” Fuyumi turned back around, two bowls in either hand. She set them before Shouto and Hawks and then turned back for more “I’m not the best chef but better than Natsuo.” 

She giggled. It was strained and clearly Endeavour wasn’t sure whether he had permission to laugh as he made hesitant eye contact with Natsuo over the table. Natsuo held it with a steely fervour, unwilling to relent, until eventually Endeavour broke the gaze to take the bowl offered by Fuyumi.

Fuyumi was the first to start eating but was quickly followed by the rest, as if permission had been granted. Conversation didn’t flow constantly but they didn’t sit in complete silence like they had at other dinners. 

Natsuo wasn’t sure whether or not to be thankful or annoyed at Hawks’ involvement in that. On one side, it was clear having someone new to talk to made Fuyumi infinitely more comfortable, but on the other Natsuo revelled in the disquiet he could create, the twitch to his father’s eyebrow, the nervous glances and the obvious embarrassment. 

Hawks filled whatever gaps in conversation he could, all charismatic and charming. He was endearing, certainly, and Natsuo could see the appeal in a hero like him- atypical in build and methods but still unfailingly good. 

In the middle of one particular story that Natsuo had zoned out for the majority of, focusing instead on the bottom of his now empty bowl, Hawks flung out an arm to gesture wildly and knocked his own bowl over. 

Unfortunately it had been full and broth was sent all over the carpet. For a few moments silence reigned once more save for the drip of liquid off the table then too much happened at once to process. 

Fuyumi stood to get a cloth at the same time as Endeavour did, banging against each other awkwardly in the process of standing up whilst Hawks began a panicked attempt at clearing up his mess. 

He shuffled back at an inhuman speed and pressed the bottom of his shirt into the carpet in a pathetic attempt to clean. All the while apologies spilled from his lips. Natsuo sat, feeling awfully removed from the situation, as Hawks, the number two hero, went through what looked like a panic attack. 

He made no move to help, whether it was shock or malice that froze him in place even he didn’t know. 

“I’m so sorry. It was an accident.” Hawks' voice had risen an octave and had a submissive note that made Natsuo’s head hurt. “I- I just I didn’t mean to.” 

He looked up suddenly, still dabbing the wet patch, and made eye contact with Natsuo. His eyes weren’t glazed over, he wasn’t trapped in a memory- he knew where he was and still thought he was in danger. 

Natsuo had never hated himself more.

Fuyumi came to clean the mess with a damp cloth whilst Endeavour stood by the sink. He didn’t seem surprised by the display; his expression was more troubled than shocked. 

“Hawks, it isn’t a problem. Allow Fuyumi to clean it.” Endeavour tried, moving closer to guide Hawks away. He went pliently, the only protest was a choked warble as Endeavour’s hand met his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry.” He gasped, turning his attention to Endeavour. For a brief moment Natsuo considered the thought that maybe his father was responsible for this preconditioned expectation of punishment but he shook it away. 

His father had no reason to hurt Hawks; the reason for his treatment of his family had always been a wish for them to exceed and however selfish and cruel that may have been, it wasn’t born of rage or any other emotion that may have been applicable to his relationship with Hawks. 

“It’s okay, Hawks. Fuyumi has cleaned it up.” Endeavour tried to comfort, his voice was softened but still gruff and Hawks flinched away from it, wings tensing and hands moving suddenly. 

His gloved hands latched onto Endeavour’s forearm, gripping so tightly that Endeavour’s face twitched in what looked like pain. Hawks blanched, from where Natsuo was sitting he couldn’t see much, but he could tell that whatever was happening had only served to further Hawks’ anxiety. 

“Hawks,” Endeavour’s voice was tight. “Could you let go?” 

The urge to intervene kicked in as Endeavour steadily grew more annoyed, a big brother instinct kicked in. Natsuo knew that this whole thing was not something Endeavour was going to handle well, and it was apparent that Hawks’ extremely delicate emotional state was dependent on this being dealt with properly. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit.” Hawks grew more and more panicked with each word as he tried to pull his hands off Endeavour. His eyes were wide, pupils mere pinpricks in pools of gold, and his bottom lip was trembling as he tugged so frantically it looked more like a muscle spasm than an intended action.

Natsuo met Shouto’s gaze over the table and even he seemed completely out of his depth, eyes wide and hands twitching with the need to do something. 

“I swear I’m trying to let go.” Hawks’ voice took on a sickening pleading quality. “It’s a raptor thing. Just when I get stressed I have to grab onto something. I thought I had grown out of it. I’m so sorry, Endeavour-san.” 

Endeavour took a shuddering breath. “How long until you can let go?” 

Natsuo winced internally, Endeavour couldn’t sound any more fed up. Hawks must have picked up on the tone too as his attempts to separate grew more desperate (this had the opposite of the intended effect as a rivulet of blood dripped down Endeavour’s arm where Hawks’ nails had dug in). 

“I just-” The winged hero takes a breath, wheezing and strained, “I need to calm down.” 

Endeavour’s face twisted. He was not intentionally being mean, he just didn’t have enough experience with being soft, with having people that needed him for emotional reassurance rather than just punching a villain, but that doesn’t matter- not when Hawks was as out of it as he was. 

“I’m trying, I promise!” Hawks attempted to reassure him again. 

“Hawks, no one is angry at you, just take your time.” Fuyumi intervened and the relief was obvious on Endeavour’s face as Hawks’ attention was drawn away from him. 

As soon as Fuyumi took charge, guiding Hawks through a tactic to get his breathing under control, the situation deescalated significantly. Natsuo watched with something between amazement and concern as Fuyumi handled the disaster with a practiced ease. 

It spoke of someone aged beyond their years, someone far too well equipped to deal with a mental crisis. Natsuo was proud of his sister, it was impossible not to be even as they grew more and more distant with each passing day, but he was also concerned- she didn’t need the extra responsibility. 

After 10 minutes, Hawks finally let go but his fingers were twitching and his eyes were rimmed with red. He looked shamefaced as he apologised, all curled in shoulders and tucked wings. 

“You have no need to apologise, Hawks.” Shouto finally said, but his voice had lost its monotony, replaced with uncertainty and hesitance. 

Hawks smiled. It was weak and watery but not entirely fake. “I think it’s best I head home. I truly am sorry, I will book some more training sessions to deal with my control.” 

The way he spoke made the ‘training sessions’ sound like a death sentence. Natsuo wanted to ask why the number two hero still needed to book training sessions like some teenage student searching for permission. 

He stood, looking down at the family with that same shaky smile, and bowed deeply. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Endeavour-san.” His playful tone was a mere mockery of what it had been earlier on in the evening. “Thank you for the lovely meal ,Fuyumi, and thank you all for your company.” 

Then he left and no one said anything for many long seconds. 

“What the fuck.” Natsuo finally breathed. “What the fuck was that?” 

He was aware his voice was rising, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care or get it back under control. 

Endeavour shrugged hopelessly, he looked downright miserable. “I’m going to go check on him.” 

It didn’t sound like a smart idea given that he had previously only managed to make the situation worse but Natsuo didn’t protest. 

“Please tell him that he is welcome whenever.” Fuyumi said, her voice was rough with emotion but she seemed eager to forget the whole debacle. 

Endeavour nodded then pulled on his jacket and left. 

That night Endeavour didn’t return and after Shouto had been seen off, Natsuo returned to his own home. He didn’t sleep.  Instead, he stared at the ceiling and tried to wipe his brain clear of the memories of Hawks’ panic, his gloves stained with his father’s blood, his hair falling out of style and over his eyes. 

He wasn’t successful and it wasn’t until many years later that he managed to see Hawks without thinking of that evening. 

2.Preening

Maybe it was obvious that Hawks would need to preen. He did have wings afterall. Managing them was sure to be a long and tedious process. For some reason the thought never really crossed Natsuo’s mind, even with all the time they now spent in each others’ company thanks to Endeavour’s attempts to fix the family. 

Despite the frankly tragic performance at their first meeting (the memory of Hawks’ panicked face, his desperate keening still made Natsuo feel sick, he didn’t really dedicate that much thought into worrying about Hawks. 

The guy almost definitely had a rough childhood, it was practically undeniable at this point, but Natsuo still couldn’t find it within himself to care more than an impersonal concern, vague worry like walking passed a homeless man on the street- those few moments of guilt are vibrant but quickly snuffed once Hawks was out of sight. 

They had met three times total now and each had been slightly better than the last. Hawks became less grating and maybe Natsuo became less hostile. Still, delivering the hero’s jacket to him after he forgot it at their house didn’t exactly match the level of friendship they were at. 

But Fuyumi had asked him and she had looked even more frayed than usual so any complaints Natsuo had were kept internal. 

“Thank you so much, Natsuo. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Fuyumi threw on her coat, already late as she set off to work. It hurt how much Fuyumi assumed every responsibility was hers to bear. 

“It’s no problem. I have a day off anyway.” 

Fuyumi smiled at him, it was strained but not disingenuous, and then she left, bag slung over her shoulder and hair wild. It’s a good job she worked with nursery kids who probably thought her frazzled look was cool and not adults who might question her sanity. 

Natsuo tucked the jacket under his arm and set off on the route to Hawks’ agency. He had been visiting last night and loudly complained the whole time about the mountain of paperwork he had waiting for him at the office,  so Natsuo didn’t have to worry about missing him. 

It was a mild day, bordering on cold, and Natsuo was almost tempted to try the jacket on, an odd compulsion which frankly scared him a little. He clenched his arm closer to his torso, trapping the jacket in his armpit so that whatever that impulse was, it would never be listened to. 

Natsuo only knew where Hawks’ agency was thanks to his father, who had taken up the habit of giving regular updates on his day even though Natsuo consistently left him on read. Updates on Endeavour’s day for some reason included being sent gps locations at random intervals. 

Maybe it was a safety precaution. Maybe it was a not so subtle way of letting Natsuo know he was in the area. Whatever the reason, it was fucking annoying, but it did allow Natsuo to find where he was supposed to be without too much difficulty. 

It was a large building, sleet grey walls and large windows. It didn’t look like the kind of place that Natsuo would associate with Hawks but then again it wasn’t like they were close. Natsuo entered the reception and the man behind the desk was immediately greeting him. 

“Hi! How can I help you today?” His quirk was a mutation, ram horns curled from his mop of blond hair and his pupils were horizontal bars in his white-less eyes. 

“I have a delivery for Hawks.” Natsuo responded, offering up the jacket as an explanation. 

The man bleated a laugh, “You one of the Todoroki kids?” Natsuo nodded “Hawks’ office is on the third floor;  if you ask someone for directions when you get up there you’ll be able to find it no problem.” 

He gestured at the lift with a flick of his head and gave a quick little thumbs up. “He’s in a bit of a weird mood, good luck.” 

Natsuo swallowed a sigh, he had little tolerance for hyper, happy Hawks and probably even less for a moodier version. He gave a sharp nod in thanks to the receptionist and then he pressed the button for the lift. 

It came down fast and on the journey up it moved cleanly, without the jerkiness Natsuo had come to associate with lifts thanks to cheap accommodation at university. A bell chimed pleasantly as the doors opened up to the third floor. 

Three heads turned to face him in synchronization as he stepped out of the lift. They were all faces that Natsuo vaguely recognised from minor news stories on rescues. All of them had mutation quirks, two with wings and one had a pair of cat ears twitching atop their head. 

“I’m here to return Hawks’ jacket.” Natsuo said to answer the unasked question. 

One of the winged employees, a muscular woman with tiny wings visibly relaxed at this. “His office is down the hallway.” She said. her voice was croaky like that of a chainsmoker. 

“Thanks.” Natsuo tried not to be curt but if he wasn’t making a conscious effort it was a state he seemed to revert to, innately grumpy and foul. He attempted to soften his face with a smile but the woman was already back to work. 

The hallway did in fact lead him to a door. Natsuo opened it without a thought, an instinctual need to break boundaries ground into him from years of annoying his siblings. He had spent so much of his life forcing his way into Touya’s room to care about knocking- even in situations when it was pretty much expected of him. 

“Wait-” Hawks let out an aborted cry but it was too late Natsuo had flung the door open and was forced to process the scene laid out before him. Hawks was sitting on his desk, shirt off and back bent in a way that was certainly uncomfortable. 

In his hands was a bunch of feathers and blood spotted from the places where they had presumably been ripped from. 

“Natsuo, it’s good to see you.” Hawks croaked, somehow still smiling as he jumped off the table and turned so his bleeding back was directed at the window instead of Natsuo. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Natsuo ignored the greeting and Hawks wilted. 

“Just a bit of preening, got to keep my wings glossy.” It was almost respectable- Hawks’ dedication to pretending to be fine. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to preen feathers if it makes you bleed.” 

Hawks laughed, a weak thready sound, “What would you know about wing care?” 

“More than you apparently,” Natsuo found his arms out, suddenly impassioned. “You can’t pull out feathers that are still supposed to be there you fuckwit. Every idiot knows that you can’t just randomly tug off body parts if they look a bit scruffy.” 

Hawks winced, his shirt was now back on but the open back of it (usually covered by the jacket that Natsuo was still holding) didn’t hide any of the carnage. He sat himself in the chair by the desk, repositioning his wings with a poorly concealed pained expression, so they weren’t touching the leather. 

“I’ve been doing this for 20 years, Natsuo. I appreciate your concern but it’s misplaced.” 

Rage bubbled like magma. Natsuo knew unhealthy habits when he saw them and for Hawks to take such a reckless approach to his well being when he was someone so important was frustrating. 

“Fuck that! Just ‘cause you’re used to it or whatever doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be pissed about it. You need to get a grip, You’re a fully grown adult, relying on stupid teenage habits isn’t how you should be acting. Fuck off with that ‘20 years’ shit.” Natsuo spat, chest heaving with the force of his anger. 

Hawks blinked, his wings had tucked closer to him despite the obvious pain during the rant. It made Natsuo falter briefly, he had gone too far. 

“I came to return this.” He threw the jacket onto the desk and turned to leave when Hawks spoke. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Hawks' voice was soft but strong, steady in its calm. “It was stupid of me to try to justify something like that.” 

He had shrunken in on himself slightly, wings tucked back and shoulders raised. It was disconcerting to see a man who usually seemed set on exuding confidence curl in on himself like Hawks was. 

The fragment of Natsuo that still clung to his position of older brother faltered at the sight. He rubbed a hand down his face, a futile attempt to wipe away the stress. 

“I shouldn’t have gotten so mad, sorry.” It was a surprisingly easy confession to make, Natsuo had never considered himself a proud man, but apologies always seemed to come out forced- this one however was genuine. “Just- take better care of yourself ‘kay?” 

If Natsuo wasn’t himself, wasn’t hateful and was instead more like Fuyumi or Rei or Shouto, it may have been a nice sentiment but from his lips it sounded like a foreign language, like a rehearsed speech rather than a moment of spontaneous kindness. 

Hawks clearly couldn’t afford to be picky about what kindnesses he accepted though as he beamed at the meager amount of care. “Thank you, Todoroki-san, I promise to try harder.” 

Natsuo bit down the urge to correct him, this wasn’t about effort or skill- Natsuo wasn’t criticising Hawks and the automatic assumption that Natsuo’s reaction had been disapproving was genuinely horrifying. 

“Just wait a few more days before molting.” Natsuo tried to make his voice come out gruff, to force himself back in the shell of being unbothered but even he could hear the softness to the demand. 

Hawks smiled to himself, face directed at the table but the pink to his cheeks was visible. “I promise.” he responded. Natsuo felt content that at least one part of Hawks’ unhealthy lifestyle was  being dealt with.  

For now.

Natsuo nodded once to himself, a sharp movement in affirmation. “And don’t lose your jacket. It’s part of your signature look.” 

Hawks smiled, it was a small thing but more precious than any of the smirks or grins that Natsuo had seen before. A part of him wanted to treasure it, hold the memory of that tiny twitch of the lip close to his heart forever. 

“Of course not, Todoroki-san. Thank you for coming all the way out here for me.” 

Natsuo wanted to say it was no problem, but that would be a lie (the image of blood caked feathers, shaking hands still pulling at them despite how pained his face was, would stay with Natsuo forever).

 Instead he left without another word, his heart considerably heavier. 

3.Chirps

“- and then he decided to pull the whole tragic backstory spiel so I knew immediately he was a nutcase” Hawks babbled on and Natsuo listened with all the patience he could muster.

They had been spending more time together, not by either’s choice but more of a matter of convenience. It’s too much effort to avoid someone who you see nearly every day so Natsuo swallowed the hostility- Hawks was too hard to hate anyway. 

As to why Endeavour was quite so eager to have Hawks engage with his family was a mystery to Natsuo. Maybe it was guilt born from the disaster that was the first meeting. Maybe he wished for genuine friendship. Maybe he was trying to impress them with an actually respectable pro hero. 

Either way, Hawks was becoming an increasingly constant presence and Natsuo’s feelings were shifting with the frequency of meetings.

It was more a kind of controllable distaste now.

He was annoying, too touchy and too comfortable with intruding. He was chatty, something Natsuo wasn’t exactly known for liking, and what came out of his mouth was rarely insightful. He was incapable of taking care of himself- a glorified teenager more than anything else. 

But whilst all that may be true, and it most definitely was, it was equally as undeniable that he was cute: styled hair that too easily fell out of place, eyes eager to watch and learn and follow, fidgeting hands and twitching muscles. 

“He spat at me! Fucking spat! It was nasty!” Hawks exclaimed and Natsuo was brought out of his reverie. “His quirk made it all sticky as well, I had to throw away my favourite trousers.” 

He pouted and a new compulsion settled over Natsuo, not one of hatred like their first meeting or of distaste like their second, not even pity like their third, but something entirely different. The compulsion to kiss the frown from Hawks’ lips was so new and so frightening that Natsuo flinched violently in his seat. 

Hawks flinched with him, startled by the sudden movement from his previously still listener. 

“Jeez, it wasn’t that bad.” Hawks muttered,ruffling his feathers and slicking his hair back with a gloved hand. 

Natsuo didn’t respond, he dared not even breathe for fear of somehow communicating the thought that had ruled his brain for a brief second.  It wasn’t like he hadn't known Hawks was attractive- everyone with eyes knew that- but kissable? That was a completely separate matter. 

Hawks carried on talking about his day.It made good background noise for Natsuo’s careful consideration. Hawks gesticulated with his arms a lot, like the need to move was ingrained into his DNA- maybe it was. Natsuo didn’t know enough about mutation quirks to know just how deep the animal traits went; Hawks seemed to prove they went fairly deep. 

It was a habit he had noticed on their first meeting and had found annoying. How long had it been since he started thinking it was endearing? Since when had Hawks changed in his mind? 

It was probably as a direct result of his bird traits, not in a creepy fetish way. It was just ironic how deeply human the quirks made him. Before meeting, before getting to know him, Natsuo could sort Hawks into a box and be done with him, but the problem with getting to know someone is it takes more effort to hate someone than to consider their good qualities. 

The stress grip had been scary, as had the yanking of feathers, but it made Hawks' humanity an apparent, unavoidable truth.  Natsuo had always liked too easily, too fast to give away chunks of an already tarnished heart, and Hawks acted as proof of that innate part of him.

No matter how hard he tried to become someone strong and unforgiving, he would remain the same foolish boy just with less friends and more reasons to hate himself. 

“-so that was pretty sick! How was your day, Todoroki-san?” Hawks suddenly asked. 

Natsuo was snapped out of his train of thought so rapidly that his brain was yet to catch up with his mouth by the time he was blurting out the first thing he could. “Call me Natsuo.” 

Both men stopped stock still. Natsuo was shocked by his own words, but Hawks’ face told of even more emotions, ones that Natsuo wasn’t even sure he recognised. 

“You want me to call you Natsuo?” Hawks sounded choked, like there was a tennis ball lodged in his throat. “You don’t even know my real name and you want me to call you Natsuo?” 

It was ill planned but not incorrect, so Natsuo found himself nodding. “I want you to call me Natsuo, I’ll call you whatever you want me to.” 

It was honest and the most right thing Natsuo had ever said in Hawks’ presence. Hawks flushed red, crimson spreading across the bridge of his nose and up to the tips of his ears and then he chirped, a small pleased little sound. 

It didn’t stop at one, three tiny melodies spilled out before Hawks slapped his hands over his mouth. The sound was snuffed out and the loss disappointed Natsuo. He had never heard Hawks make that sound before but it was so utterly pleasant that he knew he would sell his soul just to hear it again. 

“Sorry, I’ve not done that in a while.” Hawks chuckled self-deprecatingly and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Thought I had it under control.”

“Why d’ya make it stop?” 

Hawks was caught off guard by the question, eyes widening and fingers fidgeting anxiously. “It’s not exactly the kind of sound you want to hear from a grown man is it?” 

“I thought it was cute.” Natsuo responded, ignoring the heat that came to his face and averting his eyes. 

“Cute?” Hawks whispered, primarily to himself, as if in wonder. “You thought my bird sounds were cute?” 

Natsuo doesn’t hesitate to nod, but he accompanies it with a heavy shrug, a pathetic attempt to appear nonchalant. He didn’t like the almost awed tone to Hawks’ voice- like he had never been told that he was cute, or even likeable before. 

It made Natsuo ache, the sheer goodness of Hawks that the hero himself seemed to have no awareness of. He wanted to say something, his tongue itched with the consuming need to correct whatever lies had been drilled into Hawks’ head. 

But he couldn’t. 

It wasn’t his place, it probably never would be no matter how much closer they got, how far they tested the boundaries of this fragile kinsmanship. It was written into their DNA to live in different worlds, the powerful, charismatic hero and the man with a quirk so useless his father cast him aside. 

So he didn’t make a big deal of Hawks’ blushing face or his nervous fidgeting, and when he chirped in the future, quickly picking up confidence and frequency, Natsuo went out of his way to not give any reaction other than passive acceptance. 

Maybe distaste was too harsh a word for how Natsuo felt towards Hawks. Maybe fondness had bled in.

4.Talons

Natsuo watched it happen, glued to his phone as he viewed the live broadcast of Hawks fall. It was a villain attack on some office blocks, something that had become worryingly mundane in this new world riddled with men who claimed the world was evil by killing innocent people. 

Hawks and Miruko had arrived on the scene to start with and it had been going well for the first 5 seconds of the fight. Then Miruko was caught off guard, hit from behind by some fire quirked fucker. 

It all went to shit. Hawks sacrificed too many feathers to stopping the flame attack; Natsuo winced as the feathers turned to ash- one of the things Hawks had confessed to him in the sparse moments of weakness was how much it hurt when those extensions of his body were burnt. 

The major problem however wasn’t the pain, it was Hawks’ sudden struggle to support himself- wings flapping faster and faster as more feathers were lost to the constant need to attack and defend and save. 

It happened slowly. Hawks finally lost one too many feathers and he was falling. It wasn’t from a fatal height but certainly a bone breaking one, tumbling and writhing in the air, his hand raised up as if to grab onto something but it was a futile attempt. 

Natsuo dropped his phone as Hawks hit the ground. He had no wish to see whatever state the hero was in, he didn’t have the stomach. He also didn’t have the power to turn the phone off, to pretend it wasn’t happening, so he stayed sitting on his bed, phone on the floor. He just listened to any updates. 

“-And finally, backup has arrived! Endeavour has come, fists already blazing and vengeance in his eyes!” The reporter cheered, panic bleeding into relief. 

Natsuo was too numb to feel anything other than uncertainty and it wasn’t until finally the battle was won that he allowed himself to breathe fully again. He had come to terms with the fact that he respected, maybe even liked, Hawks and no matter how much he hated him, Natsuo was grateful for his father’s interference. 

He processed the rest of the fight in a tense daze, not fully with it but present enough to panic. When the victory was announced he felt every single muscle in his body relax at once. It felt like he had just reached the top of a mountain, he was Sisyphus- standing with his boulder in a final triumph against the gods. 

“Ah- it looks like Hawks is refusing medical treatment.” The reporter sounded confused and entirely out of her depth. Doubtless she didn’t get paid enough for the danger she had just put herself in by being so close to a villain fight. “Oh! I guess he’s off.” 

Natsuo picked his phone up off the food, curiosity finally winning over dread. On the small screen Natsuo watched Hawks fly off, wings still far too small and burnt to possibly be at full strength. He was flying slower than usual and the brief glimpse the camera caught of his face was enough for Natsuo to know he was in a lot of pain. 

“Right well um- Endeavour is here to provide some final comments about what just transpired.” 

Natsuo clicked his phone off and covered his face with shaking hands. It was scary how much that had impacted him, just how deep the fear had been. His emotions towards Hawks were complex ones, not ruled by a single cohesive thought or a logical process. 

It was twisted by a unique perspective on the hero world, on an all too intimate knowledge of what heroics did to a person but even with the burden of reality it was impossible not to be attracted by Hawks magnetism. 

It wasn’t Hawks he liked, slicked back hair and easy smirks and leather jackets. He liked the man with deep eye bags and messy feathers and an ugly wheezing laugh. Natsuo had no connection to the winged hero but he would do anything for the person who shared his face. 

It was with that conclusion that Natsuo decided to check on Hawks; visit his flat and make sure he hadn’t somehow ended up dead. He had only been round to Hawks’ place a few times but he knew the way well enough to get there on his own. 

It was getting dark as he walked, evening coming on fast as the orange sky turned purple, and the people Natsuo passed became increasingly suspicious. The building Hawks lived in was towering, all white walls and tiny windows. 

It was the kind of place single business men returned to after earning far too much money for a made up job. Even from a distance it looked lonely, impersonal in its featureless walls. 

It was the last place Natsuo had expected Hawks to live. When he thought of Hawks, he thought of vibrancy, he thought of mess and style. This building lacked all of that. 

Natsuo pushed open the door and pushed the up button for the lift. The only flat in the entirety of the world that actually had a working lift and Hawks had managed to find it. 

The doors opened smoothly and inside played sweet classical music; it was slightly distorted and out of tune enough that it only served to further Natsuo’s stress. He wasn’t a stranger to panic, to the thrum of a too fast heart and the cold fear that washed through his blood, but this was new. 

He clenched his eyes shut but all he could see was Hawks’ bleeding out on the floor of his flat. What if Natsuo was too late? What if by the time he arrived Hawks was already dead? 

The doors opened up again with a cheerful ding and Natsuo made his way to Hawks’ door like a dead man walking. He felt numb as he knocked and it wasn’t until he heard movement behind the locked door that he allowed himself to feel something- relief so pure and simple. 

He released a breath and when Hawks opened the door he almost collapsed with the force of the respite. But something wasn’t right. 

Hawks’ gaze was directed downwards and his eyes glassy. Blood had matted his hair and bruises were already visibly forming on his face and arms. There was a tremor to his whole body, even his wings were shaking. 

He had somehow managed to change clothes in his battered state; he now wore a T-shirt and shorts rather than his hero costume. The whole situation was wrong. 

“Hawks?” Natsuo tested the waters. Hawks looked up so fast his neck cracked, eyes wide and still glazed. 

“Natsuo?” He sounded so confused, so shocked that it hurt. “What are you doing here?” 

There was a roughness to his voice, a panic that put Natsuo on edge. 

“I saw you on the news.” Hawks flinched back. “I wanted to check you’re alright?” 

Hawks didn’t respond to the question, instead he pushed past Natsuo and checked down the corridor. Then he smiled, seemingly content that they were alone. “Would you like to come in?” 

His voice was wrecked, hoarse and strained and dry. 

“Sure.” Natsuo shrugged as if his heart wasn’t racing, as if he wasn’t analysing every smeer of mud, every hair out of place, every missing feather. 

Hawks opened the door wider to allow Natsuo in. “Mi casa es su casa.” 

Any other day Natsuo would have written off the slight oddities to Hawks’ behaviour, but this time it was too dangerous to just move on, to act as if this was normal.  

Natsuo took in the flat. He had been a few times, but each time he had needed a moment to process that this was actually how Hawks lived. The walls were white, the furniture grey and black. On the wall hung expensive looking modern art and every ornament was exactly where it should be, angled to perfection to catch the sun. 

“Sit down. I’ll get you a drink.” Hawks offered, clicking the door shut and wringing his hands together nervously. Natsuo complied, sitting on the stiff sofa hesitantly. It felt wrong to disturb the perfection. 

Hawks pulled out a cup and filled it with water quickly before returning to Natsuo. His hand was shaking but he managed not to spill too much. Natsuo took the glass, the water was lukewarm and a white precipitate was visible at the bottom, probably something that Natsuo really did not want to know the origin of. 

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” He asked with little consideration, placing the cup down without taking a sip. 

Hawks stilled suddenly, not a calm stillness, rather it was like the hush before a storm. His head dropped slightly, chin now resting on his chest, his fists clenched tighter until Natsuo was certain that he must be drawing blood. 

“Not allowed. The commision takes care of my injuries.” It was said with the cadence of someone who knew how deeply fucked up the situation was but had little power in the way of stopping it. 

“But they haven’t. You’re still injured.” Natsuo pushed. 

Hawks rubbed a hand down his face as he sighed and it was only then that Natsuo noticed the absence of gloves. He had never really noted the fact that Hawks always wore gloves until he was faced with his bare hands. 

The fingers were bent slightly, like bones had been broken and fixed incorrectly, his knuckles were lined with faded white calluses and where fingernails should be were talons, dark and jagged. They appeared to have been filed down so the point, instead of sharp, was flat and bumpy. 

Natsuo bit his tongue to stop a remark but, Hawks caught where his gaze lingered. Quickly, Hawks shoved his hands into his pockets and curled his toes to hide the talons that grew there as well. 

“Sorry,” He muttered, voice barely more than a whisper “I can go find some gloves to put on if you want? I know they can be disturbing to some people.” 

Maybe they would have been disturbing to Natsuo. Maybe the sight of abused fingers and building scar tissue would have repulsed him if he hadn’t grown up with Touya. His stomach was strengthened by years of tending to burns and injuries. Talons weren't enough to scare him away. 

“I didn’t know you had talons.” He responded, not directly addressing the offer. 

Hawks fiddled with the bottom of his shirt, twisting and stretching the material. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly like to advertise the fact. Wings are pretty, everything else- not so much.” 

Natsuo nodded. Hawks' whole reputation was built on his likeability, his constant approachability to the public that other heroes (i.e Endeavour) lacked. There was sense to be found in the inhumane and somehow that made it all the more sickening. 

Hawks tried to sit but he winced as his wings shifted, reminding Natsuo of why he had come in the first place. 

“When will the Commission healer be here?” 

Hawks shrugged. “Later. Maybe tomorrow. I’m alright for now so no need to expend unnecessary resources.” 

The instinctual offering up of an excuse, even as his voice was dead and clearly unbelieving of the fact, was pitiful. It suggested a routine, either the answer had been drilled into him or he had grown so used to saying it that it was now as second nature as flight to him.

“Tomorrow isn’t good enough, Hawks. You’re seriously injured. Even if it isn’t fatal, you’re still in pain.” Natsuo tried, resting a hand on Hawks’ shoulder to offer comfort. Instead of leaning into the touch like he normally would, a man starved of affection, Hawks curled away. 

No response, just the flick of a nervous darting tongue along dry lips and a twitch of the eye. 

“I could fix up the worst of it?” Natsuo offered. He dragged his hand away with some difficulty. It was in his blood to fix and mend even when all he seemed capable of was destruction. He was an older brother after all. 

Hawks looked up at last. He looked small in the dim light of his flat. The feathers lost and the slump to his posture shrunk him so immensely that he looked lost rather than the confidence he usually exuded. 

He bit his lip nervously, wracked by indecision. Before, finally, he nodded. 

Natsuo wasn’t sure if the smile showed on his face, too numb to tell, but he certainly felt it lighten his chest. “Where’s your first aid kit?” 

Hawks pointed to a cupboard in his kitchen and then cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry about this, Natsuo.” He seemed embarrassed, too embarrassed to even notice how the first name slipped out. Natsuo certainly did though, cheeks heating slightly and heart thumping just that bit faster. 

It didn’t feel wrong, despite the fact that Natsuo didn’t even know Hawks’ real name, let alone use it freely. 

“Don’t be sorry.” He said at last, swallowing around the lump in his throat, as he brought the first aid kit down and placed it on the island unit. “If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t.” 

The truth in that statement shocked even himself. He had never been good at pretending, whether that be mocking forgiveness for Fuyumi’s sake or playing pretend friendship with Hawks. 

Hawks remained silent, pushing himself up so he was sat on the countertop. His hands supported him, talons on show with little shame. 

Natsuo scanned him for injuries: the most pressing one was the gash on his head and the pain around the shoulder muscles (made obvious by Hawks’ near constant wincing and gasping). The rest was probably best left to a healer, bruises and cuts that were sore looking but not in desperate need of attention. 

He wet a cloth under the sink and began the process of cleaning away the blood from Hawks’ face. Natsuo had done it a million times before, he had read about head wounds countless times in textbooks and he had seen injured heroes more than he could care to recount but still the quantity of blood scared him. 

Head wounds bleed alot- it’s a fact but not one that made the situation any less scary. Still, Natsuo continued, methodically wetting and wringing the cloth until the dried blood was all gone and all that was left was a still weeping laceration. 

Dressing the wound was easier than cleaning. Once the majority of the blood was gone, Natsuo could convince himself the situation was manageable. He wrapped the gauze tightly until red was hidden by white. 

“Right. I’ll need you to take your top so I can see your back.” Natsuo tried to keep his voice level as he made the request. It was a necessity, but knowing that he would probably take pleasure in seeing Hawks shirtless in any other scenario made him feel dirty, a cruel man taking advantage. 

He clenched his eyes shut to banish the thought. He wasn’t taking advantage, it was a legitimate reason, a simple requirement.

And Hawks didn’t seem too bothered by it, shrugging the top off without a single complaint. The chest under was skinny, no fat, only muscle and bone. Around his shoulders ran deep purple rings of bruises. 

“Do you have any ice?” Natsuo swallowed back bile at the sight of the injuries. His quirk often left his hands aching and sore, at the very least shaky, and he needed full mobility in order to care for Hawks with the delicacy he derived.

“Probably, check the freezer.” Hawks’ voice had taken on a placidity. 

Natsuo did as commanded and opened the freezer to find two bags of ice cubes. They were small but passable for the time being. Natsuo opened his mouth to tell Hawks to hold the bags to the areas that ached but then realized with that level of bruising, holding the bags would probably quickly become agony. 

So instead he placed them on the counter. Hawks’ flat was cold enough that it would probably take a while for them to begin to melt, giving Natsuo enough time to find some painkillers. He rummaged into the first aid kit, pulling out plasters and cough sweets and wipes but no medical drugs of any kind. 

“You haven’t got any ibuprofen.” Natsuo said, it wasn’t a question but Hawks’ answered like it was one. 

“The handlers don’t like me having access to stuff like that. They’ll bring me some if I’m super hurt.” He said it like it was a comfort. Like medicine being withheld from a grown man with no past issues with addiction was a kindness. 

“Of course, makes sense. Not like you're a fully grown adult or anything.” Natsuo spat. 

Hawks tried to shrug but couldn’t quite manage it, a problem that could be fixed with pain medication. The whole situation was so profoundly wrong, it reeked of corruption and cruelty, but Natsuo was helpless to do anything other than heal as best as he could.

His hands shook and his mind drifted, providing horrifying reason after horrifying reason as to why Hawks would be so utterly under the thumb of the commission, but muscle memory did its job and Hawks was sufficiently wrapped up for the time being. 

Natsuo folded the bandages back into the first aid kit, shut the lid and allowed silence to settle. He had little will to break the quiet. Anything he wanted to say: you need help, this isn’t right, are you okay, would be rebutted by Hawks. 

Then Natsuo looked down and the tentative peace was shattered as swiftly and efficiently as a glass vase hitting a concrete floor. Where toenails should have been on Hawks’ feet was what could only be described as a mess. 

Scars ran up each toe, clearly old but still vibrant and ugly, the digits were malformed, like the bones had been twisted and black talons, cut short and jagged, grew. Natsuo didn’t know he reacted but his surprise (maybe even disgust) must have shown on his face because Hawks flinched back. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry, Natsuo. I normally remember to wear socks- I was just tired and hurt and I know that’s not an excuse but I promise that I can cover them up right now!” Hawks’ tone was unplaceable- an impossible to decipher mix of panic and acceptance. 

Natsuo swallowed back bile. “It’s fine, Hawks. My brother used to burn his own skin off- it’s not the worst I’ve ever seen.” He tried a smile but it must have fallen short because Hawks’ face only grew more pinched. 

“The Commission wanted me to have surgeries when I was younger to make me more approachable to the public, more ‘human’. Obviously, they didn’t work- just fucked it all up even more.” His voice lacked bitterness, lacked any emotion at all. 

Natsuo nodded. He didn’t feel inclined to respond; he lacked all capabilities in dealing with situations like these. Not for the first time, Natsuo wished he was even an iota more like Fuyumi- held even an inch of her patience. 

In the dim light of the too neat kitchen, Natsuo remained silent.

He was a coward afterall.

5.Gifts

Natsuo was not accustomed to intimacy. Not in the way his ex-girlfriends had wanted him to be. Hugs and kisses and gentle touches were rationed- as if there was a daily limit on affection. So when Hawks started leaving gifts, Natsuo kept a mental tally. 

The first gift he left was normal enough, a box of expensive chocolates the day after Nastuo had tended to his injuries. That normalcy was soon lost. 

Weeks passed and the gifts morphed from chocolates left in his postbox to buying snacks every time they met to shiny things he would pick up off the floor. Each time something glittery caught Hawks eye, whether it be a bottlecap or a lost ring, he would pick it up and hand it to Natsuo with a too proud smile. 

The first time, Natsuo had laughed and put it in the nearest bin- Hawks’ crestfallen face prevented that from ever happening again. Now he accepted the presents with a smile but no further acknowledgment, for some reason addressing the silent ritual would have shattered the fragile peace. 

So a shrine slowly grew on Natsuo’s bedside table. A shrine of litter and treasured memories because even if Natsuo could find no value in the things Hawks gave him, he could find value in the shared smiles.

When sleep evaded him (which had become less and less common) there was a small comfort to be found in the growing pile. It was a clear reminder that as lonely as he felt, as much as isolation gnawed at his bones, someone in this world wanted him around. 

Someone who had no obligation created by shared blood, valued him as he valued them and that was enough to create a temporary reprieve. 

“We should try that new ramen place.” Natsuo said one day on one of their shared walks which had become increasingly more like the walks that friends took together. “It’s supposed to be pretty good.” 

The friendships that had formed was something Natsuo had very little experience with, but he was strangely comfortable with these exchanges. The distaste had been slow to thaw but ,as soon as it had, new emotions were quick to replace it. 

Hawks hummed non-committedly, bending down to pick up a penny from the floor. He examined it for a minute, holding it to the sun to test the shine, before slipping it into Natsuo’s hand without a word. 

Natsuo rolled it in his fingers before tucking it safe and sound in his pocket. 

“I’m free tomorrow for lunch if you’re free then?” Hawks offered. 

Hawks was made of two entirely contrasting parts. There was this Hawks, casual and sauve, slicked hair and easy smiles. He was charismatic and easy to get along with. Then there was the other Hawks, the one who had spent so long under the thumb of people who valued appearances above all else. 

Hawks was the hero, the symbol of reform and protection. Whoever the other person was, the small uncertain thing, they belonged to the name Hawks had long since shed, the name that Natsuo didn’t know. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” 

For a second, Natsuo could feel Hawks' gaze, feel it lingering. Moments like these were becoming increasingly less rare. Moments where the rest of the world seemed to fade away, devoid of colour compared to the vibrancy that was each others’ company. 

The joy of merely having someone made Natsuo want to laugh, joy bubbling in his chest. Loneliness was an easy thing to grow accustomed to, but as soon as you grow aware of what you have missed out on, the relief is palpable. 

They came to a stop at a bench, a silent communication. The penny was heavy in Natsuo’s pocket; the weight of unanswered questions was the only thing that stopped Natsuo from feeling fully content. 

Earlier problems still existed, the apparent respect Hawks held for Endeavour being a major one, and they needed to be addressed but it was clear now that Hawks was a genuinely good person. He wanted the best for the world, and Natsuo was confident in his assumption when he finally found the words to communicate with Hawks that it would all turn out fine. 

      +1. 

There were few people in his life Natsuo trusted. 

His sister, Fuyumi, with all her eternal kindness and benevolence made it impossible not to trust her. Natsuo would place his beating heart in her small hands and have no fear for his safety, no reason for worry. 

At one point he had trusted Touya, his older brother who had been so eager. He was rough and harsh and had value for things that Natsuo would scoff at, but before he had been tainted by their father’s cruelty he had possessed a similar kindness to Fuyumi. It wasn’t as soft but it was a genuine wish to help others, an admiration for the brave that made it impossible for Natsuo not to trust him fully. 

There was nothing left to trust in Touya anymore. 

For much of Natsuo’s teenage years that had been it; he was too distant from his mother and Shouto to allow them that privilege and his father had never earned anything more than his ire. Trusting Hawks was not something he had expected. 

There was no distinct moment in Natsuo’s life that he could point to and say ‘this is the moment I knew that my feelings were genuine’. Any realisations were too slow to be remarked upon. But as difficult as it was to pinpoint a moment, the result of the process was still certain. 

Nastuo was irrevocably, irrevocably in love with Hawks. 

His heart was not built for love but now he wanted little more than to give all he could offer to Hawks.  Even if his offerings were useless, they were laid out bare. 

This realisation changed very little. Hawks was still overworked, still under the thumb of the commission, still so utterly convinced of his own uselessness if he wasn’t perfectly obedient, faultless in his compliance, and Natsuo was still useless. 

He wasn’t capable of fighting a government agency, all he could do was patch Hawks up after missions to save him the clinical cruelty of his handler, offer a shoulder to lean on and allow Hawks to choose the restaurant they ate at. 

They were small luxuries and Hawks relished in them as much as Natsuo did his joy. This softness was new to Natsuo. He was prepared to hate, to pity Hawks and maybe he did, but the man with a name he did not know who masqueraded as Hawks, it was impossible to avoid loving him- it was as inevitable as death. 

On one of those quiet nights when pretending things were okay wasn’t impossible, when a brief reprieve could be found in each others’ company in a way that was wholly unfamiliar, Natsuo felt the compulsion to ask Hawks just what had left him so adamant that the bird traits he held were freakish or disturbed. 

Questions would form in his mind and almost reach his lips, touching the tip of his tongue, but they would never be released to the open air, never be voiced aloud. This thing they had cobbled together was fragile and Natsuo’s curiosity was a flimsy reason to destroy it. 

Still, one evening when Hawks came round to Natsuo’s flat for the night, all chirps and tweets, the want to ask him how he had ever thought the sounds anything other than endearing was burning.

But he swallowed it back and smiled. 

“It’s good to see you, Hawks.” And he found that from the very bottom of his heart he meant it.

The hero smiled. The shape of it was soft, nothing like the smirk plastered on the front of magazines or the sides of buildings. It was a smile that spoke of genuine care, fondness beyond imagining. 

“You don’t need to greet me so formally, we’re friends now.” He responded, flicking off his shoes and tucking them into the side of the welcoming corridor. 

Friends. Of course. Nothing less and nothing more. They were close but not close . Hawks did not cling to this affection like Natsuo did. Where Natsuo was desperate, Hawks was reserved. He made no inclinations that he wished for their relationship to change beyond the occasional lingering eye, and that was not enough for Natsuo to risk it all. 

They heated up leftover Thai food. A comfortable silence settled over the two as they worked around each other in the kitchen, a natural dance of weaving and dodging like this was their ballroom, a poorly lit kitchen with only the bubbling pot on the hob as witness to their waltz. 

As Hawks poured two drinks the timer signaling the food was ready went off in Natsuo’s pocket. He switched it off and spooned two even portions of noodle broth into their bowls. One had a chip in it, barely noticeable but certainly there. 

It was the bowl Hawks used every time he was around. There was a sense of intimacy in Hawks having his own bowl that Natsuo didn’t like to dwell on. False hope was the beginning of the path to rejection. 

They sat opposite each other at the island unit. Eating in a kind of comfortable silence until Hawks decided to break it. 

He swallowed a piece of chicken and then “Do you remember the first time we met? When I freaked out and grabbed Endeavour?”

There was no way Natsuo could forget that night. He nodded hesitantly. 

“I never thanked your family properly for that.” His voice had grown weary. “I was raised by the Hero Commission; that kind of behaviour was punished swiftly.” 

Natsuo did not want to know what constituted punishment in the Hero Commission’s books. 

“Mutant quirks are often not received well by the public and it did not help that my quirk was so widespread. When I was younger, before the commission, I struggled to even walk without fucking hopping. I haven’t been allowed to display such traits since I was taken in.” 

Golden eyes met grey. An understanding was reached. 

“This past year I have met a great many people who helped me learn how I should be treated. You were one of them, Natsuo, and I will never stop thanking you for that. Without you-” He hesitated, choking on a breath, “Without you, I imagine I would be a very different person.” 

He was still smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners and dimples on show. Moving his hand so it rested atop Hawks’ was natural, near instinct the lack of thought that went into it. His palm was larger than Hawks’, encompassing it completely. 

Hawks didn’t flinch away. He remained steady in his gaze.

“My name is Keigo. I have been calling you Natsuo for too long without returning the favour.” 

The weight of that confession was palpable. It was thick and heavy in the air. 

“Keigo.” Natsuo tried the sound on his tongue. It felt right. 

Hawks’- No, Keigo’s wings fluttered at the name. A chirp escaped his lips and his fingers flexed under Natsuo’s hold. 

There was little else to describe how Natsuo felt other than warm. Pleasant heat from his head to his chest. 

Natsuo knew quirk drawbacks, but looking at Hawks’ golden eyes, hearing his perfect chirps and holding his hand, Natsuo also learnt that for all the hatred he could find in the world, and himself, he could also find the beauty in the oddities of mankind.