Chapter Text
If it weren’t for the fact that Hawks was already nearing the end of his patrol, maybe he would’ve gone home an hour ago. But it’s Christmas Eve and somehow the idea of rushing home to spend the evening alone seems sadder than finishing up his shift even in the poor condition he’s in. He’s pretty sure he’d developed a fever a few hours ago based on the persistent body aches, but he can always attribute that to exhaustion and the freezing cold. It’s only when he nearly comes crashing down from the sky that he stops fighting the obvious, resolving to walk the rest of the way home. He’s not terribly far, but it’s not a particularly well-lit area he’s walking—not stumbling—through.
Dabi's finishing the last few drags of his cigarette before stomping it out on the sidewalk. He's not really thinking of much, just enjoying the nicotine as he keeps leaning against the brick wall of whatever building is behind him. The fact that it's Christmas Eve barely registers and he wants to keep it that way, too many memories that cause too much pain in the hollow place that used to hold his heart. No, he's more than content to just go about his night before he's ready to stalk back to his apartment and sleep tomorrow away.
As Hawks continues his trek down the road, he stiffens as his feathers pick up on someone lurking nearby. Outside of his quirk, there’s a sinking feeling he can’t quite describe. Maybe it’s intuition. So he picks up his pace, ignoring the aching feeling in his thighs and the way snow starts seeping into his somewhat inappropriate footwear, stinging his ankles and making his socks unbearably damp. In his defense he didn’t think he’d be walking. And then he swears his heart almost stops, blood running impossibly colder than he’d already been feeling as he sees a figure that can’t be who he’s thinking of.
Dabi's just about to start walking when something catches his attention. The area is mostly filled with similar seedy looking people, hoods up and face masks donned. None of these low lifes should even be worth his time, so why does he suddenly feel so on fucking edge?? He sees the flash of dull red before he even comprehends what he's seeing and he freezes. His eyes widen and before he knows it he's already trying to figure out if he'll be able to outrun the Fastest Hero. God he's fucked.
Hawks takes a closer look which he truthfully doesn’t need even in this miserable state. He’d recognize Dabi anywhere. Or Touya. Or whatever the hell he goes by now. He grabs a feather in each hand for protection as he forces his wings to retract as far as they’ll go. He’s on pure adrenaline, and if he had more energy, would just flee. Instead his legs are starting to quit on him. Do not interact. Do not interact. Easier said than done when Dabi’s standing in his path and they’re locking eyes. He doesn’t even trust his voice to sound threatening or strong.
Dabi can feel his throat drying out, voice getting stuck and trapped even if he wanted to speak. Then he sees Hawks grab those feathers in each hand. He's got an intimate knowledge of just how soft they can be, especially when they're pinning him to Hawks' huge bed and teasing his healthy skin. These feathers aren't sharp at all. They'll slit his throat faster than he can even blink if he's not careful. And yet. He can't deny that the hero has every damn right to want him dead. The scar along his face feels like another one of Dabi's own burns, as if he can feel the phantom pain from it. Part of Dabi agrees that he probably does deserve to die by Hawks' hand. But....he can't move. He can fucking move and Hawks is giving him that look like a wild and predatory animal that's ready to strike and fuck why can't he just move ???
Time is moving too slowly as neither of them speak. Hawks’ brain screams run but his legs ache in protest, and there’s no way he can fly. There’s no way he can pull out his wings in front of Dabi. They took so long to grow back. His chest feels tight and restrictive, and even the shallow breathing sets off a barrage of coughs that he chokes down, tilting into the fleece of the neck of his coat. Even then anyone can hear how congested and disgusting it is, but worst of all it’s a dead giveaway of the state he’s in. He’s breaking into a cold sweat, vision blurry as he forces his eyes open. The only thing keeping him from collapsing is fear and the knowledge that he won’t survive if he does.
Dabi snaps out of his panic when he hears Hawks' start to cough. Unless the damn goody two-shoes turned bad boy and picked up smoking, that cough means he's seriously sick. On instinct he takes a step forward and raises his hand outwards, only to freeze again when he sees the look on Hawks' face.
Hawks eyes go wide as he realizes that he is in fact about to die. Dabi’s going to kill him right here and now. His wings took so long to grow back. They took so long to grow back. His chest is constricting making it impossible to breathe. It’s making him cough more which is making it harder for him to breathe and he’s going to die. He’s either suffocating or Dabi’s going to burn him again but won’t leave him a chance to grow back his wings. That wheezing sound is him and his lungs fucking up and he’s going to suffocate. He hasn’t panicked like this in years but there’s nothing he can do because it’s absolutely warranted. It’s what his body is choosing to do before he dies and of course he’s going to go out in this pathetic state.
Dabi's eyes wide even further and the sheer panic and terror he sees in Hawks' eyes and he immediately takes a step back, pull his hand away and up in a show of surrender but it's too late. Hawks is already hunched over and hyperventilating and it's not surprising at all that he's sputtering like this. Dabi's had more than his fair share of panic attacks to recognize one when he sees one. He realizes all at once that this is no place for Hawks to be when he's like this, not with so many prying eyes around. "Birdie," he starts, slow and soft and as placatingly as he can, trying to speak just loud enough for Hawks to hear him without being overheard by others. "I....I'm not going to hurt you. But you need to get away from this place. I'm going to come closer, okay?" He warns, inching his way closer to the hero, wary of those feather blades still in hand and ready to jump back at a moment's notice.
Everything is crashing down on Hawks, and the fact that he wants to focus on the voice telling him to follow it is concerning. It’s still Dabi. Dabi wants to take him somewhere quiet to kill him with no witnesses. But what’s Hawks going to do? He can’t fight right now. He can’t even fucking breathe. He’s stress gripping on the feather swords and can’t let go. And yet, he can’t swing them around either. He thinks Dabi’s coming closer and he’s sure silent tears are falling because after all that work all of the things Hawks has done, this is how he goes out. Just when he’s started to sleep at night.
Dabi can't tell if Hawks can even hear him, so he just keeps talking with the hopes that something will get through. "It's okay. You're having a panic attack," he says with a forced calm. He makes sure to keep his hands up and steady where the hero can see them. He's still bent over and wheezing, coughing and fuck Dabi swears he can see tears rolling down his cheeks now that he's closer. "I'm not-....I won't touch you. Let's just get you somewhere quieter," he says, only a few feet away from the hero now. He wants to keep his promise, he really does. But at the rate this is going, he might have to manually move Hawks out of here to someplace else where he can calm down. Dabi's not sure he'll have his hands left attached to him by then.
Hawks forces himself to stand up straighter, gasping and wheezing as he does. He needs to watch Dabi better. This situation has just gotten even harder for him to understand. Maybe if he weren’t so feverish and exhausted on top of all of the trauma he’d be able to pull it together. But that’s not the case. He trembles, deciding to follow Dabi rather than any rational response. Staying here is dangerous too. He might suffocate. He might stop breathing if he doesn’t stop taking these labored breaths that only lead to sputtering and coughing. He’s going to end up seen by someone else in this state if he stays, and somehow a part of him just wants to follow the voice that’s talking to him. It’s the tone Dabi used to use with him ages ago and the familiarity makes it all the more painful.
Dabi thanks whatever fucking god is out there that Hawks is actually following him. He maintains his distance of a few feet, walking at an odd angle so that he can keep facing the hero while also guiding him to a tucked away spot of an abandoned building. It's nowhere to stay long term, especially not on a night as cold as this one. But no one will bother them here and it's quiet. Dabi goes to sit on an old milk crate, still keeping his hands visible and as nonthreatening as he can. He pats a crate next to him. "Just take a seat. Need to get you breathing better first," he says softly, remembering vividly the way his own last panic attack had gripped at his lungs, choking him and robbing him of all oxygen.
As he slowly and painfully walks over, Hawks forces his eyes to stay wide, save for the blinking he has to do to clear the tears that embarrassingly won’t stop falling. He does sit, wanting to put his head between his knees, but also not wanting to turn his back on Dabi. Fuck. Everything burns. It takes too much effort to remind himself that the burning is coming from himself and not Dabi.
Dabi let's himself feel a bit of relief before returning his full focus to the man next to him. "Alright, good birdie. Now just...try to follow my lead," he instructs as he starts to take loud, exaggerated deep breaths for Hawks to mimic. It's hard, especially when Dabi feels panicked himself. But he forces himself to maintain steady inhales, holding it for a few moments before exhaling through his nose.
Hawks forces himself to follow. He knows he has to breathe. If he can’t breathe he’ll die. He was already feeling dead on his feet. No need to hyperventilate himself to the point of unconsciousness. He does his best, occasionally coughing and not quite able to breathe from his nose with the budding congestion.
"Yeah, just like that, birdie," Dabi encourages gently. It's still cold in this space but he doesn't dare try to heat it up. Not when he's finally getting Hawks to calm down. "Do you....is there anyone that can come get you? You're pretty far from your apartment," he asks, figuring that Hawks will want to get away from here as soon as possible. Away from Dabi as soon as possible.
Hawks feels his chest tighten at the new question. Oh god. No. No, there’s really not unless he wants to dial up random pro heroes—which is probably a better idea than staying here and admitting nobody will come for him. He should run. He still can’t let go of his feathers to go to his phone because of his stupid bird instinct. He’d be lucky if his phone hadn't shut off from the cold like it’s been doing all week. Fuck. He needs to focus on breathing.
Dabi's concerned when the hero doesn't immediately name someone. Fuck. Dabi's not a hero and he can't figure out why he's apparently so hellbent on playing one right now. He should just walk away, run away really, and let Hawks figure this out himself. He's already done more than he would've in the past. Maybe it's because of the mind numbing apathy that's finally lifted from his brain, even if it's only been replaced with fear and panic. He hadn't realized how much his anger and revenge had been driving him, and since his scumbag father finally kicked the bucket, pathetic and anticlimactically at that, Dabi's felt nothing. Fuck. "My place is close by....if you want to wait it out there," he offers before he can stop himself. Never thought he'd invite his likely killer into his own home, but self preservation hasn't been high on his list lately.
Hawks tries to keep a neutral expression—an impossible task. Think! There had to be someone! Maybe Rumi would help him, but she’s nowhere near the area right now. She’s hours away visiting friends for the holiday. Fuck, stop panicking! What is happening? How did he end up in this situation? It’s his own fucking fault for not calling out or for just generally not being strong enough. He’s racked with another coughing fit, chest scorching with pain.
Dabi's own lungs feel like they're constricting in sympathy, or maybe it's just panic at now knowing how to handle this whole thing. He has to stomp down the urge to reach out and touch and soothe for fear that he'll only make things worse. "I can....fuck, I can take you there an leave if you want. You can just stay there till you're ready to go home and I won't bother you." He's getting desperate in a way that he hasn't felt in years.
That doesn’t even make sense. Why would Dabi be offering this to him? For old time sake? To absolutely torture him? To lull him into a false sense of security to maim him again? He’s shaking and still for the literal life of him can’t pull it together. The images and sensations of that time are coming back and bombarding him. He can feel the fire on his wings and back, consuming and destroying everything. “Why?” he grits out.
Dabi's throat closes up. He doesn't know why . At the very least he's unwilling to admit it, even to himself. Because you look like shit and I can't bring myself to not care . He stands up abruptly. "Just follow me," he forces himself to say, hoping it sounds commanding and not as desperate and pleading as it feels.
Hawks feels the blood draining from his face as he just follows Dabi. Breathe. He’s still holding his feathers, having given up on releasing his stress grip. Besides, he’s being led away to god-knows-where.
Dabi leads Hawks similarly to how he did the first time, making sure his hands are visible and moving slowly and deliberately. The frigid cold air greets them once more as they leave the abandoned building. It doesn't help with Hawks' labored breaths. Instead of commenting on it, Dabi moves even faster towards his apartment. Less than 5 minutes later he says, "We're here," in front of a rather run down but sturdy looking building.
By the time they get there, Hawks feels dangerously close to collapsing. He’s starting to come down from the fight or flight, and maybe that’s what Dabi wants so he can kill him without a fight. Hawks just nods. Above everything else his instincts are telling him to go and get warm, so he follows Dabi into the apartment, finally able to sheath his weapons for now.
Dabi leads the way inside, unlocking the door to his unit and going inside first for Hawks to follow. It's not spacious by any means, especially not compared to the hero's place. But it's warmer than outside and out of the wind. Dabi shucks his hoodie to drape over a chair and discards the mask. "You can sit wherever," he says, unsure of how to be hospitable when he's certain Hawks still sees him as hostile. It's an awkward amount of time before the hero even moves and Dabi has to fight the urge to fidget. Fuck. When did he become so fucking weak and soft? "I uh....I can still leave if you want me gone," he offers, trying to sound like it's no big deal.
Hawks is shivering too much and the room is spinning too much for him to start moving. And then the sudden change in temperature has another undesirable effect. He throws a gloved hand over his twitching nose, feeling sore and triggering the offset of a fit of wet sneezes that scrape against his sore throat. “ ”hGh’Shhhu! Ih-…hih’KSSHhhu-KSHhu! hh….hhih …fugk sorry… TZsshhu!”
Dabi realized belatedly that he's staring at Hawks' sneezing fit and pointedly looks away. "S'fine....bless you," he mumbles, feeling awkward. The amount of just.... vulnerability Hawks is showing right now is unnerving. He can only imagine how bad it must be for the hero to actually show any signs of weakness right now, especially when it's so clear he's just as terrified. He doesn't exactly keep the luxury of tissues or cold medicine stocked in his apartment so he feels at a loss.
Hawks sniffles back the mess that threatens to leak out, finally coming to his senses enough to sit down before his knees buckle and choose for him. He shivers as he slowly starts to warm up, keeping an eye on Dabi. “What are you gonnda do?” he asks as evenly as he can.
Dabi looks away, staring at the carpet as if it's not the same shitty stained one that he's been staring at for the past few years. "I can leave if you want," he repeats, continuing to force himself to sound as if he doesn't care. "Or I can....I dunno, I got some canned soup if you want some," he offers. Not exactly a festive, but then again, he'd been planning on ignoring the rest of today and tomorrow.
Hawks stares blankly at the villain. Is he serious? The man burned him alive not long ago because Hawks had killed Twice. He can’t sense any hint of deception in Dabi’s voice; in fact, he looks pretty uncomfortable himself. But the scary thing is how good at mind games he is. How good at mind games they both were. “Why would you help me?” Hawks asks, voice raspy and hoarse.
Dabi glares before remembering that he fucking deserves the distrust and suspicion. He huffs and looks away once more. He doesn't have a good reason. Not one that'll make any sense at least. 'I feel so numb I might as well be dead and you make me feel things still' probably isn't going to cut it. "Maybe I'm just in a festive spirit," he lies, trying to sound indignant.
Hawks almost chokes on air as he holds back a dry laugh from how ridiculous of an explanation that is. Dabi of all people is not festive in any way. Unless settling the streets aflame like a Yule log counts. It doesn’t. Hawks coughs again, remembering that he’s not exactly in any shape to negotiate. Best he can do is recuperate and run like hell. He clears his throat. “If you say so.”
Dabi huffs through his nose, grateful Hawks isn't trying to pry a better answer out of him. "Whatever. I'm going to heat the soup. Grab a blanket or something unless you wanna keep shaking like a baby chick," he grumbles, walking away to the small kitchenette, relieved and also nervous about not being in Hawks' line of sight any more.
Hawks stares numbly as Dabi leaves before looking around for a blanket. As undignified as the dig was, Dabi’s right. He’s trembling. He finds one nearby and pulls it over his lap. His whole lower half is aching and cold and he can feel the feverish heat coming off of him with the extra layer on. He sniffles again, trying to keep it quiet, but he needs to do it a few more times in order to keep from becoming even more of a mess. His cheeks are still wet from his earlier panic attack, he realizes. He rubs hard at them, leaving his gloves to absorb it.
Dabi feels.... awkward being in his kitchen like this, knowing that Hawks of all people is right around the corner. Fuck. This is all too weird. He can hear the sound of muffled sniffles and he tries to ignore it. Unfortunately (fortunately?) the soup doesn't take long to heat and Dabi's returning with with the bowl for Hawks. The pale face with rosy cheeks and nose hits him like a brick. Outside he hadn't been able to properly see the hero, and up until now he'd mostly been avoiding eye contact. Fuck. The man truly looks like shit. Dabi walks over slowly but making a point to not be too quiet and accidentally startle him, setting the soup down on the coffee table in front of Hawks.
Hawks feels himself tense up as Dabi comes over with the soup. Maybe he’s gotten hungry enough to actually eat out of the hand of someone who supposedly doesn’t care if he lives or dies. He’s already made a long series of mistakes tonight. The mistakes which probably will be outlined in some documentary in the future. He nods, and slowly moves to start eating it. Poisoning isn’t like Dabi. He’d be more likely to burn him the second he takes a bite. He fully expects to get hit with a wall of flame as he starts eating, the hot broth soothing on his throat. He can feel his nose threaten to run again and he’s sniffling even more as he continues to eat. “It’s good.” he mumbles between sniffles and bites, feeling like he should say something.
Dabi scoffs but it's not scathing like usual. "'S just off-brand canned soup," he counters, a disgruntled mutter. He's sitting down now on one of the chairs and he's afraid to move. Afraid of doing something that will set Hawks off to slice his throat, or worse, afraid of making Hawks even more fearful of him. He used to crave and desire that amount of power more than the nicotine in his cigarettes. Now the knowledge that he has it just makes him sick to his stomach.
Hawks nods again, finishing about half the bowl before setting it down on the coffee table. The heat and steam feel good, but it’s started to have another undesired effect. He sniffles hard against the back of his hand before the tickle becomes too much. And it’s going to be a mess. Fuck. He pinches his nose shut as he succumbs to a sneezing fit. “ihh…gXT…huh. ndh…hh…H’gt…nXt’shh huhh…” He lets out a shaky breath, ears popped and congestion crackling behind them.
Dabi makes a point of looking away as Hawks eats, scrolling through his phone, just to give him some semblance of privacy. He looks back up when the hero starts sniffling again, only to wince at the painful sounding pinched off stifles. Fuck. "Here....I'll be right back," he says, getting up and going to his bedroom to grab the intended item before returning. "S'all I got...sorry," he says, handing Hawks a worn but still clean and soft handkerchief.
Hawks has the decency to blush, face fully going red as he accepts the handkerchief. He mutters a very congested sounding thank you as he does take it. It’s that or letting go of his nose and becoming a real mess. He puts it to his nose, blowing it gently and hoping to avoid another sneezing fit as the congestion shifts.
Once again Dabi makes a point to look away, not that it stops him from hearing the gurgling blows. It sounds messy and he frowns at the sympathy he feels for the winged hero. He's all too glad for the distraction his phone provides when he hears it buzz, only to groan when he sees what it is. "Fucking 'winter storm' warning," he grumbles, dropping the device back onto the table.
Hawks refuses to start panicking again. He can do this. Maybe he’s tired but if he has enough willpower, he’ll get home. “Better get out before it starts.” Hawks mumbles, moving to stand up.
Dabi isn't sure why the thought of Hawks leaving has him feeling so freaked out. He could lie and say it's simply for the sake of Hawks' health. But he'll be honest with himself just this once and admit that he's afraid if Hawks leaves now, he'll never see him again. Not unless Hawks is staring him down from the other end of one of his feather blades. "Birdie I don't think-” he cuts himself off. He's not ready to admit that he's worried about the man, not yet. "I mean, I don't care if you wait out the storm here," he tries instead. Hawks isn't even standing yet and already the hero looks shaky from the effort.
Waves of dizziness hit Hawks too hard for him to remain standing, and of course he has to be this weak and vulnerable in front of Dabi. He’s starting to sway and forces himself to sit back down before he collapses in front of Dabi. He pales as he realizes he’s essentially stuck here. Even if Dabi’s offering. He can’t even think of a response right now, so he just sits there, the world spinning and crashing around him.
Dabi flinches from the effort it takes to not move and catch Hawks as he practically falls back down onto the couch. Shit . He needs to make sure Hawks doesn't panic again. "Birdie I know I-....fuck I mean-” Dabi can't find the right words. They're either too scary to say out loud or he simply can't think of them. He ends up going with, "I won't touch you." It's the best he can seem to manage right now.
Hawks feels so utterly pathetic in this moment that all he can do is nod. How could he have put himself in this situation? He steals a glance at Dabi, doing his best to keep his gaze hard and calculating. This looks nothing like the Dabi he’d seen last. He’s not nearly as manic or angry. He’s making him soup and promising not to touch him. Breathe. He keeps reminding himself to breathe normally—or as normally as he can while this ill.
Dabi gulps, and wills his expression back into something neutral. He's been letting too much slip through and it scares him. Fuck. How the fuck of the logistics of this going to work? Does Hawks sleep on the couch? Does Dabi sleep on the couch? He's also just now realizing that the fact that his heat not being the greatest, while normally not a concern, is now a big problem. Sure it's better than outside but if Hawks is left to shiver all night things will only get worse. Fuck fuck fuck . This is such a mess. And usually the damn hero can't stop babbling about one thing or another but this entire encounter he's been quiet and withdrawn and Dabi doesn't know how to respond or react. How much of this is because Hawks is sick versus being on edge? Fuck..... Okay. One thing at a time. "Uh, are you warm enough?"
Hawks is not. He’s cold and wet, save for the unnatural heat coming off of him. The blanket had felt at least nice before. “Ndot…not really.” he admits, sighing only to cough again.
Shit, he knew it. "My uh, my heat doesn't work the best. I can....warm the place up a bit myself if you want," he offers carefully, unsure how Hawks will react to Dabi using his quirk even in the slightest.
Hawks feels his heart hammering hard in his chest at the suggestion. It has to be better than freezing to death, but fuck. “Sure.” he mutters, averting his gaze.
Dabi gives a minute nod, increasing the heat coming off of him just slightly. He sits back down in the chair, the growing silence becoming uncomfortable and god Dabi has never been one for small talk but he also can't stand the idea of talking about anything real right now.
Is subtle, but Hawks can feel the heat coming from Dabi. He sneaks a glance and there’s not much of a difference in his appearance as he activated his quirk. He wishes he could stop shivering or think of something to fill the silence with. Pretty much all of their past is off limits for a variety of reasons. He coughs again and clears this throat. “Whend’s the storm supposed to start?” He should know this, but of course doesn’t. His phone has actually shut off from the cold—he needs to replace this one. It’s been doing this all week, and if he’d fixed it sooner, maybe he wouldn’t be in this predicament.
Dabi checks his phone but the point ends up being moot when a harsh gust of wind rattles the window. "....Right about now, it looks like," he grumbles, going over to the window to make sure it was secured shut. Fuck Dabi wishes he had a tv or something. Anything to fill the silence. Hawks still looks cold so Dabi goes back to his room, bringing the comforter with him and handing it to the hero.
Hawks accepts it, shivering even as he layers the comforter over the blanket. Fuck, Dabi’s being surprisingly…kind about letting him stay. He’s always been erratic. Who knows. He sets his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. He could warm himself faster if he’d fluff up his feathers, but he wants to keep his wings as small as physically possible.
Dabi's relieved that Hawks seems to be a little less on edge. But the less he's able to focus on worrying over Hawks, the more his own unease threatens to take over. He needs something else to do. Fuck. He's helped him get warmer, gave him food. No medicine to offer. Part of him wishes Hawks would just ask him to leave because he doesn't know how to handle all this tension.
Now that Hawks isn’t freezing and panicking, he can think rationally. Or. He can kind of do that. The fever is making it even harder to make heads or tails of this situation. He’s going to be stuck here indefinitely in Dabi’s apartment. With Dabi. His body is begging for sleep, but he refuses to let it.
Dabi risks increasing the heat by just another notch. Hawks' wings still look damp and out of place, but he's not going to comment on it, not going to mention a single thing about even the smallest feather. Dabi catches his leg bouncing from nerves and forces it to stop.
Hawks’ head throbs harder as he returns to another bout of coughing. It’s relentless, leaving tears leaking from his eyes as he continues coughing and coughing, barely able to breathe in between. The sound is awful, and it feels even worse. Even his stomach feels queasy by the time it’s over. (edited)
Dabi's given up on trying to not stare by now because fuck it and he watches with no small amount of unease how harsh and painful that coughing fit sounds. He can see the way Hawks' entire body spasms at the mercy of his lungs. He wants to reach out, wants to ask if the birdie's okay, but he knows the want isn't mutual.
Hawks breaks out in a cold sweat as everything just feels increasingly worse. He wheezes slightly as he tries to ignore the wave of nausea that’s arising. Even breaths, he tells himself. This isn’t happening. You’re not fucking throwing up. You’re fine. You’re—oh fuck. “Dabi,” he grits out, hurriedly removing himself from the blankets. “I’m gonna be sick.” He’s clasping a hand to his mouth, feeling the blood rush away from his face, body cold and shaking.
Dabi's eyes widen as a softly muttered shit escapes his lips. He gets up and rushes to the bathroom to grab the small waste bin he keeps in there, hurrying to bring it back out and thrusts it under the hero's chin. He's not sure what to expect so he doesn't let go or expect Hawks to take hold of the bin instead, he just keeps it securely right below Hawks' mouth as he waits for the inevitable.
Hawks is relieved to have at least waited long enough to have something to throw up into before he loses control. Fuck, he feels so weak in this moment as he hurls. He’s lucky he hadn’t eaten much today. He grasps the bin in front of him, shaking all throughout his body as he continues to heave, even past the point of anything coming up besides the pitiful gags and probably whatever dignity he has left.
Dabi flinches at the sounds of retching but doesn't move away, doesn't move at all really because this is the closest he's been to Hawks all day and the idea terrifies and thrills him a little bit. "S'ok birdie, just let it out," he mumbles softly, knowing firsthand how awful throwing up is. From motion sickness to all the drugs he's done in his life. Once it seems to slow down Dabi let's himself relax a fraction. "Birdie, I need to check you for a fever, see how bad it is, 'kay? I'm just gonna touch your forehead, nothing more," he says, moving a hand up slowly, giving Hawks plenty of time to stop him.
Hawks can feel that his eyes are watering and even his nose is starting to run again. He’s barely processing Dabi’s words up until he says he’s going to touch Hawks. “Wait.” he says hurriedly, throat stinging from the effort of speaking. “It’s not that bad. Don’t.”
Dabi's hand freezes just inches from Hawks' forehead. He feels something deflate in him but ignores it. "Alright," he says, pulling his hand back. Pretends it doesn't hurt. It's not a fucking rejection so stop acting like it was he scolds himself. He pretends he's not as dejected as he feels. Setting the bin down between the hero's legs, Dabi stands up. "I'll get you some water."
Hawks nods dumbly, watching Dabi leave. He focuses back on breathing normally, not needing a repeat of this outcome. But fuck, he feels weak. He knows he was lying; this doesn’t feel like a low fever by any means. But the idea of Dabi touching him in any capacity right now frightens him too much. And yet the villain is still helping him? Why? Oh right he’s in a “festive mood.” Hawks’ head is spinning too much now.
Dabi returns with the cup of water, refusing to take his eyes off Hawks in case he turns green again. Though currently, he just looks a sickly pale aside from the flush of his cheeks and dark bags under his eyes. He hands him the cup, not quite willing to move away in case the hero is too shaky and drops it. Last thing he needs is to get even more cold and wet.
Hawks’ hand shakes as he accepts the glass. He drinks slowly, trying not to cough in between. Dabi’s still so close to him, observing him and when they lock eyes, the murderous blaze Hawks had seen before all that time ago isn’t there anymore. If anything Dabi looks afraid too.
Dabi freezes when they look at each other, forces himself to look away. As much as he knows he deserves whatever judgment Hawks might give him, he still doesn't want to face it, not right now at least. "I um..." He tries, desperate for something other than this stifling and oppressive silence. "I get how shitty puking is. So....if there's anything else you need just...let me know I guess," he says, feeling dumb and useless for not having anything better to offer. "I uh...I got books, if you need a distraction?"
Hawks’ eyes widen as he realizes Dabi is empathizing with him. This day is just full of surprises. “I…don’t think I can read right now.” Hawks admits. Even reading this conversation is exhausting. “But…thanks.”
Dabi's nods, already regretting his next words. "I could....I could read out loud. If you want a distraction or something," he offers, looking away and never felt more relief to know he doesn't have enough healthy skin left to blush. God this is so fucking stupid. He should just go to his room and leave the hero alone.
“That’s…” Nice. Hawks clears his throat. “Okay…if you’re offering.” It’d be better than sitting here in silence indefinitely.
Dabi nods again, feeling much more eager but trying to not let it show. He goes over to his small shelf of used and worn books, some of them more in tatters than others. Selecting one of his favorites, he goes back to sit down and opens to the first page. He's read this one so many times, it's easy to read aloud without stumbling or tripping over the words.
Hawks watches Dabi’s expression change and feels a little less anxious as he starts reading. He leans back, maybe slightly in the direction Dabi’s sitting in. He lets his fever-addled mind start to visualize the scene Dabi’s narrating. His voice is low and easy to listen to, and even during all of their time together, he can’t remember Dabi talking this much. Especially this calmly.
Dabi willingly loses himself in the book, almost forgetting that he's reading aloud. Forgetting every shitty thing about him and his life besides the story. He's not sure how much time passes, but eventually the first three chapters are done so he pauses to look over at Hawks.
Hawks notes the sudden pause and looks up to lock eyes with Dabi in a sudden snap back to reality. And fuck, too much time couldn’t have passed, but looking at Dabi doesn’t fill him with fear and disgust anymore. He sniffles again, wondering if he should say something. He’s lost touch with his charismatic side entirely tonight and it’s showing.
They maintain the eye contact for a few more moments before Dabi's the first to break away. "It's getting late." It was late before they even ran into each other. "I can go to the room if you want to sleep," he offers, seeing how exhausted Hawks looks, even more than when they were still outside. He figures either the bird will kill him in his sleep or be gone before he even wakes up. Either way, Dabi's pretty sure he doesn't have the room to complain.
Hawks kind of doesn’t want Dabi to stop reading, as he’s finding it comforting. He shouldn’t, but he does. So instead of a real answer, he just shrugs and says, “Okay.”
Dabi nods, folding the corner of the page to save the spot and closing the book to set it down. He stands up and pauses awkwardly before going to his room brusquely, only to return after a moment. "Here," is all he says as he hands Hawks a pillow. The only one he has but the hero doesn't need to know that.
There’s a part of Hawks that wants to ask Dabi to stay, to not leave him alone here, but he ultimately decides against it. “Thank you.” he murmurs.
Dabi nods, giving a hollow yeah before letting Hawks be. He goes to his room, leaving the door cracked. Maybe to hear if Hawks leaves. Maybe so he won't hear if he tries to come in to slit his throat. Dabi lays down on his bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. 1:19am. Merry fucking Christmas he thinks. With the pillow and comforter with Hawks on the couch, his bed is empty. Not that Dabi needs to worry about the cold, and he's slept in worse places for longer stretches of time so this doesn't bother him. For better or worse, he falls asleep quickly.