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"So birdie, what’s your day off this week? Shigaraki wants to do a Smash Bros tournament and is insisting that you be there,” Dabi frowned as he analyzed the contents of the fridge, remembering his conversation with Hawks. He'd thought Hawks would pick Thursday because that was the bird’s birthday, and the only day of he'd probably get.
“I-uh-I don’t have a day off this week. There’s a mission in Naha on Okinawa from the next Monday until next Thursday, and I took two days off last week to do that job for the League. The Commission wants me to be visible until I leave for Okinawa. Tell Shigaraki we can go head-to-head when I get back. Sorry, I’d really like to.” The hell of it was that the bird really had sounded apologetic.
Had Hawks lied? He probably wanted to preserve his relationship with Dabi and the League while also grinding up on some other heroes. He was always around the bunny bitch and bisexuals existed. Yeah, Dabi thought, some nightclub full of heroes and civilians ready to suck their dicks or whatever. They’d probably give him a crown. Schoolchildren would make “Hawks Day” cards. The mayor of Fukuoka would give him the keys to the city, and—
“What bug crawled up your ass?” Shigaraki growled. “You’ve been standing there for fucking ever. Your seams are smoking. I wouldn’t normally give a shit, but I want the milk.”
Dabi took the milk out of the fridge and chugged all but maybe a mouthful. Then he handed it to Shigaraki and left the kitchen without another word. He wouldn’t have left their leader even that much, but he’d shaken Dabi out of his spiral.
What the fuck did he care what the bird did on his birthday or who he did it with? It wasn’t like they were official boyfriends.
On Thursday Dabi was walking back to the base after picking up some food for everyone when a villain fight broke out in the middle of the street. Some asshole with a gigantification quirk was spouting off something about women and rejection. Dabi tuned his rant out. The only thing of note was that the man was between him and the train station.
He considered his options. Kurogiri’s quirk was overextended after transporting Twice and Toga to Nagasaki and back, so calling him would be cruel and possibly fruitless. Best to reserve that for an emergency. A car service would refuse to go to the part of the city the base was located in, and he didn’t want to risk it even if they would. Patience it would be.
The first hero on scene was Jeanist. He ordered bystanders away, and plenty left…but plenty stayed and took out their phones to record. Typical. Dabi glanced at his phone—only six-thirty. Jeanist would probably wrap this up in another five to ten minutes and they could still warm up the food and eat at a reasonable hour.
Just as Jeanist’s threads had wrapped the villain to his thighs, the man took something tiny out of his pocket and touched it to his neck. Dabi realized what it was before the hero did—Trigger patch. Instead of an injectable, a gang had decided to develop a patch version of the drug. Some claimed it lasted longer than the injection, but primarily it was great for people who couldn’t manipulate a needle, or whose skin might be too hard for the needle but could still absorb the drug. He grew another ten feet or so, breaking the fibers holding his legs together, and casually pulled a streetlight out of the ground.
At this the rest of the citizenry dispersed. Dabi shrank back in the alley.
“Hey, big guy—” A voice Dabi wasn’t expecting boomed as the flapping of wings sounded over the alley. “—let’s talk about this.”
Hawks hovered in front of the villain’s face and seemed to be negotiating. The food continued to cool, Dabi wincing at the time. There were multiple missed messages in the group chat.
Dabi: I’m delayed, not dead. Quit your bitching, you’ll eat eventually.
Dabi: {pic}
Dabi wondered just what Hawks said to the villain to get him to put down the streetlight (although it fell on a line of cars, something that made Dabi snicker). Then he shrank, and sheepishly extended his hands. Jeanist took possession of the villain and left.
Hawks pulled a bottle of water from the inside pocket and guzzled it. His hands scrubbed over his face, the light hitting it just right for Dabi to see the hero. Hawks wasn’t heading to a party, he was heading to a hospital if he kept this up—he looked exhausted. He had deep purple bags under his eyes. His wings looked a little dull, maybe even a little messy—something Hawks had told him only really happened if he got messed up in a fight or if he worked non-stop for too long without resting.
When was the bird’s last day off from hero work that he hadn’t spent with the League? He’d invited Dabi over to make fun of bad movies a few weeks ago. Dabi had spent a very enjoyable night, practically ready to sing in the shower in the morning. Was that it? Dabi found himself hoping Hawks had taken a day off from everyone recently. Closed his curtains, slept the day away, given himself a mud mask or whatever stupid shit the chicken did to take care of himself.
Moreover, it was the bird’s birthday. He knew firsthand that hero work didn’t care about birthdays, but this wasn’t a hero called away from a celebration with friends and family. This was someone who was working until he fell over. He’d probably get an iv or two and go or be sent back into the field. Hawks took off, and Dabi frowned. He turned, not in the direction of the trains, but towards Hawks’ apartment.
When he got back to the base, Dabi took a deep breath. He didn’t often yell loud enough to shake the walls—it made him feel like his father. But he needed the full League and he needed them now.
“Everyone get your asses to the living room now or I’ll burn your shit!”
The membership trickled in slowly, most bitching at him about the food taking too long or about his yelling or about his threat
“I could dust your shit as easily as you could burn mine” Shigaraki grumbled as he threw himself down into his gamer’s chair in front of the television and turned it to face Dabi.
“Hawks showed up at the villain fight. He looked like this,” Dabi passed his phone to Shigaraki who took one look at it and hissed. Dabi had taken a picture of Hawks in the stark illumination of a streetlight.
When it reached Twice, his head tilted to the side. “He looks like shit. Prettiest man I’ve ever seen.”
When the phone made its way back to Dabi, he slid it into his back pocket. “He looks like that and today is his birthday. I don’t think there’s anyone he’s celebrating with.”
No one there knew he’d ever been over to Hawks’ house, and he was going to keep it that way. He wasn’t going to tell them that he’d broken in and there wasn’t so much as an uneaten cupcake or deflating balloon. Hell, it looked like the Commission couldn’t even be bothered to send him flowers at home. And on the train there hadn’t been so much as a whisper that it was Hawks’ birthday on the various news websites. Hell, when he looked up Hawks’ official info pages on the fan wikis and his own website, there wasn’t a field for birthday at all.
“Tomura,” Kurogiri said.
Shigaraki nodded. “Listen up, assholes. Dabi, go buy or steal food. Kurogiri and Compress, cook food. Twice and Toga, presents. Spinner, decorations.”
“What about you? Going to sit on your Switch and wait for us to come back?” Dabi crossed his hands over his chest.
“I’ll get the bird here.”
“It’s going to take more than a call,” Dabi said. “I already said you had ordered him over for a Smash tournament. He said to say sorry.”
Shigaraki smiled and Dabi was immediately worried. He didn’t particularly want to go get food when Shigaraki was flashing his less than sane smile. But he also knew staying and pushing Shigaraki was only going to make things worse. He rushed through the grocery store, grabbing treats he’d seen at Hawks’ or similar foods. When he got back to base, Shigaraki was gone.
About ten minutes later, Spinner walked in carrying several bags. The first bag was full of flowers, heavy on red. Probably for Christmas, but Dabi knew red was Hawks’ favorite color, too. They probably wouldn’t make more than another day or two before they’d die, but they still looked festive tonight. The second bag had…valentine’s stuff in it. Red with white hearts all over them. Dabi looked up.
“There was a box outside the back door. It was full of those plates, napkins and cups. They’re nicer than the dented ones that were in the dumpster.” Spinner said, and Dabi nodded.
“Someone should tell them leaving things outside their back door at night is just asking for them to be stolen,” Dabi said, and Spinner snickered.
The third bag wasn’t as full. It had several banners in it—Happy Anniversary, Happy New Year, and a violently pink and glittery Happy First Birthday—all missing some letters, as well as some bent paper noisemakers and a package of balloons.
Shigaraki rolled back in to see Dabi arranging cups of flowers all over the living room. “He’ll be here in the next hour.” His eyes scanned the flowers, the balloons taped to the walls, and the mishmash of colors and letters spelling out “Happy Birthday,” and he nodded his approval. He wandered to the kitchen where his eyes grew wide at the cake.
Dabi was worried he might actually draw blood with how hard he’d had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing when Kurogiri smacked their leader’s hand with a wooden spoon.
“Not until Hawks is here, Tomura Shigaraki.” A smoky face that wasn’t a real face still managed to convey disapproval.
“Hawksie!” Toga ran into the room, and then her face fell. Her eyes fell on her beloved fashion magazines, and the scissors and tape Dabi and Spinner had been using earlier. “I’m going to go wrap the presents! Twice said he was going to get a different sort of gift. He promised to be back soon.”
Dabi thought Shigaraki had been overly confident as the hour ticked by. At ten minutes until Shigaraki’s deadline Twice came back. He was carrying a bottle of sake. Shigaraki looked up, frowned, and looked back at his game. With two minutes until the deadline, they all heard the snick of the front door. Footsteps pounded down the hall.
Wild-eyed, Hawks hit the doorframe. “I’m here! I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, don’t dust—” Hawks froze. “What…”
“Hey, pretty bird,” Dabi said, standing up. “Sorry we had to use underhanded methods of getting you here.”
Hawks stared at him for a full minute. “But, you said,” he turned to Shigaraki, “that if I didn’t get Dabi under control you were going to dust him, and that I only had an hour…” His voice trailed off. The League picked up on when Hawks actually saw the room. His head slowly swiveled from one side to the other. “I don’t understand.”
Oh, shit, did Hawks not know his birthday? Until the League, Dabi’s birthdays were fairly miserable experiences, but at least he knew when his birthday was. It was true for all of them.
Hawks swallowed, several times. “Did you—” His eyes met Dabi’s. “Did you do this…for me?”
“Happy birthday, pretty bird.”
“Happy birthday, Hawksie!” Toga shrieked it.
They all tensed when Hawks put on the mask of his public persona, offering a sunny smile, only for his face to crumple. They all looked to Dabi, who held up a hand, to say Let me handle this.
“Hawks?” Dabi put his hand on Hawks’ shoulder. When the hero forced them open, gold eyes were swimming with tears. He pulled Hawks close, and whispered in his ear, “overwhelmed or unhappy?”
He heard the leather of Hawks’ gloves creak, and they settled on Dabi’s slim hips. An inhale, followed by a shaky exhale. “Overwhelmed.”
Dabi nodded. “Give him a minute,” he tossed over his shoulder. He locked eyes with Hawks. “I would’ve warned you, baby bird, but you would’ve shrugged us off and continued to hero your way into a hospital bed. I saw you at the villain fight with the gigantification quirk. But…since you’re here…”
Hawks sniffled. Compress offered a cotton handkerchief and Hawks accepted it with a soft thank you. He took several deep breaths, then nodded. Dabi stepped out of the way.
“Sorry, guys, no one has ever done something like this for me.” Hawks toured the room, looking for all the world like a big kid staring at something elaborate instead of a make-shift party pulled together at the last second. His wings rustled happily, and a soft trill came out of his mouth when he saw the Happy Birthday sign. That was when Dabi knew the masks were gone. His pigeon didn’t coo unless he was sure that anyone who might tell the Commission was far away and he was content. “Thank you.”
Shigaraki tolerated approximately four minutes of “how did you pull this off?” with various League members ready to spill the beans about their contribution before he interrupted Spinner’s decorations story. “Are we ever going to have cake? You said we had to wait until Hawks was here, and he’s been here for at least twenty minutes.”
Kurogiri chuckled.
“Cake?” Hawks’ eyes were alight with hope.
“Might have dumpster dove for that, too. Sure you wanna see?” Dabi laughed when Hawks glared at him.
“Dabi.” Great, now Dadgiri was reprimanding him.
Instead of apologizing, Dabi led Hawks to the kitchen.
“Oh my God,” Hawks whispered reverently. “Kurogiri, you?”
“And Compress. It was a team effort,” Kurogiri said, handing Hawks the knife so he could make the first cut into it.
After the cake, they shared the curry Dabi had picked up and Compress had reheated. Toga finished first, and she dashed out of the room to fetch the birthday present. Dabi was half sure that she’d gotten him nail polish or something. But he also knew his bird well enough to know that whatever it was, even if not used, would be put somewhere special and treasured. He knew for a fact that the boxes of letters and cards he stored under his bed were more valuable to Hawks than a commendation from the PM, even if the latter was publicly displayed in his agency.
“Are you ready?” She was practically vibrating with excitement. “This is from me.”
Hawks opened the gift carefully, peeling back tape, unbending the paper. Fuyumi was the fussiest present opener known to humankind—although Hawks was doing his best to rival her. Shigaraki opened his mouth to complain but Dabi very subtly shook his head.
“This is my first birthday present!”
And, fuck, but Dabi wished he could steal a credit card off Endeavor and buy his hero the world. Because the excitement on Hawks’ face at the sight of a makeup palette he could’ve bought for himself a million times over made something twist in Dabi’s belly.
“Toga, this is amazing! We’re going to have so much fun doing makeup together. I’ll need a tutorial and practice, but you’re going to help me look phenomenal.”
Toga beamed at the adults.
“This is from the rest of us,” Twice said, handing over a paper bag. “It’s from just me!
Lighter fluid was probably better alcohol than this sake, but Hawks seemed excited all the same. “Let’s crack this open. None for you, Toga.” She rolled her eyes, but started searching up eyeshadow tutorials.
Hours flew by. Every scrap of food was eaten. Even drop of sake was consumed. One by one, they wished Hawks a happy birthday, and took themselves to bed until it was just Dabi and Hawks.
“Time for bed, dove.”
Hawks yawned and snuggled up against Dabi. Dabi rolled his eyes and picked up the hero, carrying him to his room. Hawks curled around Dabi’s pillow, until the villain got into bed, when Hawks abandoned the pillow for the warmth of his whatever-they-were.
“Dabi?”
“Pretty bird?”
Hawks yawned and gave Dabi a smile that did things to his insides. “Thank you, for everything. I know this was all you.”
Dabi brushed his forehead with a kiss. “You deserve more this.”
“Honestly, I don’t want to know how you learned when my birthday was unless it’s a safety concern. But no one has ever thrown me a birthday party. Not as a kid. Not growing up at the Commission. And then the Commission restricted my birthday, so no one even knows when it is. Actually acknowledging it? Wanting to celebrate it? Wanting my friends to share it with me? You’ll never know how much it means to me. I’ve had parties in my honor, but they’re thrown by people who want publicity, who want to meet the model Hawks, or who would be weirded out if I trilled. You guys are my friends. The closest thing I have to a family. So, no, I don’t deserve better, Dabi.” Hawks absently drew on Dabi with a talon. It had taken them months of talking, months of being together, a month past Hawks leaving the window to his apartment unlocked before he’d felt comfortable even showing Dabi his talons, much less felt comfortable touching Dabi with them.
He reflected that it was probably a good thing that his tear ducts were burnt shut. He’d be crying for Hawks. He’d been so isolated from everyone by the Commission that he’d never had anything beyond the superficial. Restricting his birthday—it was just so fucking petty, just another way they owned him. Dabi swallowed to ensure his voice wouldn’t waver. “You’re the first hero any of us have ever rooted for. You’re our friend. That’s why when I shared that it was your birthday, and that the Commission was working you to the bone, everyone wanted to show you that we care about you and that we’re in your corner. And, dove, I only did it after I checked your apartment and found it as empty as ever and realizing we weren’t celebrating National Hawks Day. I wouldn’t have stepped on your toes and pulled you away from a party with your friends, but you looked so worn down, and you’re probably won’t get a day off this month. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”
Hawks sighed. “You’re an idiot if you think you aren’t the top person on my list of people I’d like to share my birthday with. When you asked about Smash Bros I wanted to tell you tonight. That way I would’ve spent it with you. I wouldn’t have said it was my birthday because I’ve never told anyone when it is. But I would’ve been with you.”
“Happy birthday, pretty bird.” Dabi rubbed light circles on Hawks’ low back, the way the hero liked.
“Keigo.” It was barely a breath of air. Another few centimeters and he might not have heard it. “Another thing I’m forbidden to share.” He pulled back so their eyes could meet in the dim light filtering in from a streetlight.
Dabi leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Keigo.” A deeper kiss. If Keigo could trust him like that with something incredibly personal. Would the world stop turning if Japan learned Keigo’s name? No. But he would deeply wound a man he respected, maybe even loved. “My name is Touya.” He didn’t need to say his family name to an Endeavor fanboy like Hawks.
Keigo’s talons scratched him lightly as his hand twitched. “I’m really that blind. How many people within the last thirty years have had blue flames? How hasn’t the Commission figured it out? How hasn’t Endeavor? You survived the peak. But they found a jawbone. No, must have forged a jawbone. Because you were gone when they got there?”
“See, you’re such a smart bird that it really is embarrassing for you. I stopped worrying that you’d put the pieces together after month three or four.” Touya teased. “We’ll do my long and tragic backstory another night. You need to sleep. When is your patrol tomorrow?”
Keigo snickered. “See, I kind of made you out to be inflexible. That you’d threatened to shut me out if I didn’t attend the meeting. Around two? I think? I texted my handler that Shigaraki wanted me to spy on a potential rival just starting to pull focus. There is a group, I’m on top of it, I’ll keep you apprised, but I’ve been holding back this information because nothing of note has happened. It was something to keep in my back pocket if I needed a day or two for my mental health. You’ve convinced me it was time to use it. It’s going to be good for at least one, but maybe even two days. Can I stay, Touya?”
“You know you can, Keigo.”