Chapter Text
Keigo had made a mistake.
He liked to think that it wasn’t completely his fault. Working for the Commission and the Liberation Front at the same time was exhausting work - he had to fly back and forth between their respective bases often, sometimes multiple times a day. When he wasn’t helping out the Liberation Front in some way, lying his mouth off the entire time, he was reporting his findings to the Commission, speaking in code to avoid detection. Then it was back to being on the streets, patrolling the skies and performing his expected duties as the number two hero. When he wasn’t doing any of these things, then there were interviews, photoshoots, and meetings.
Keigo was fast. He could perform any of these duties flawlessly, flashing his usual grins and portraying the perfect picture of a hero who was relaxed, confident, and comfortable in his role. The Commission wanted him to provide a source of security for the public, so that’s what Keigo did. On the flip side of things, the Liberation needed to see anger at the hero society, and a deep seated conviction to change things in their favor. They needed to see fire and dedication and service, as well as the belief in the cause.
Both the Commission and Liberation were fully confident in their thoughts on his behavior, as far as Keigo was aware. He hoped to keep it that way.
What Keigo needed was sleep, a hot shower, and a decent meal that didn’t consist of something he’d snagged from a fast food restaurant. Regarding his own thoughts on this double-agent act… Keigo didn’t know. Involving himself on both sides, where the consequences of betrayal would be dangerous no matter whom he betrayed, was dizzying and disorienting and exhausting. The Commission told him the villains were nothing but bad news: meeting characters like Twice challenged that view, while ones like Re-Destro confirmed it. The Liberation saw society as being locked in a cage - which Keigo hadn’t agreed with until he took a closer look at his own life, and then he wasn’t sure what to think - and felt they needed to liberate the country to a point that would cause it to implode.
Nothing was black and white. It was utter chaos.
Keigo hadn’t been raised to make sense of that chaos, regardless of how he personally felt. He was raised to follow orders: orders that started with stay inside and only grew harder to follow from there. He knew deep down that some orders shouldn’t be followed, but Keigo had been conditioned, like a dog to a bell or an electric shock collar. He followed his orders even when his body cried out in fatigue and his eyes were drooping shut despite all the caffeine in his system. He followed his orders when his instincts were warning him not to take to the skies that night, despite the air being calm and the sky clear.
Yes, Keigo had made a mistake by flying back to Commission Headquarters that night, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. If the Liberation Front and the Commission had truly wanted to get the best results out of him, maybe they shouldn’t have given him so many damn orders .
It couldn’t be helped. Keigo couldn’t spare precious energy thinking about it now, because he was currently fighting for his life in the middle of a raging thunderstorm.
The storm had emerged from seemingly nowhere. Keigo had been high in the air, high enough that because he’d been facing forward, he hadn’t noticed the clouds gathering beneath him. He’d been so tired… was still so tired… that it was only when he started to feel the gusts of wind and the static on the air that he realized what had happened. By the time Keigo had started to make his descent, hoping he could slip through the cloud cover and land before the storm truly hit its stride, it was too late. It was like the storm had waited for him to descend into the clouds, then it fully let loose.
In what felt like an instant, Keigo was soaked with icy rain, his thick coat and pants soaking up the water and dragging him down. The wind clawed at his hair and feathers, yanking them out in handfuls, screaming past his ears and driving icy needle-like raindrops against any exposed skin. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed around him, each thunderclap sending stabbing pains through his skull as the sound sent shockwaves through his sensitive feathers. The lightning threatened to spear him as the strikes grew closer and more frequent.
Keigo didn’t think he’d ever been more scared in his entire life.
It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d flown through a storm. He’d had to chase villains through them on many occasions. But that had been closer to the ground, where the buildings had acted as buffers to break up the currents and lightning rods protected him from stray blasts of electricity. Here, Keigo was exposed to the full fury of the sky - a single leaf on the wind, thrown to and fro with little control over his direction. It was taking all of his strength to simply keep himself in the air at this point, and he had very little strength left to begin with. His senses were all but useless - his visor was more of a hindrance than an aid against the rain, where the water ran in sheets down the glass and blurred his vision. His hearing and sensory perceptions were being thrown off by the thunder. Even his internal compass was askew, the electricity in the air throwing off his sense of direction.
Keigo was lost, a ship being tossed about on a stormy sea of clouds and wind, freezing and terrified.
And the ship was starting to sink.
Keigo hadn’t even realized how low he’d gotten until he nearly slammed into the side of a building, where the gray-tinted glass had loomed up in front of him. With a shout of shock, he’d managed to swerve to the side, catching sight of his bedraggled wings in the glass’s reflection. He only had about half of his feathers left - the wind had torn the rest of them out and scattered them on the wind. He was in trouble - if he lost too many more, he’d fall out of the sky. And even from this lower altitude, a fall like that could be fatal.
Think, Keigo! He thought frantically to himself, trying not to panic. His thoughts were racing, trying to keep track of his location in the sky, trying to keep his exhausted body upright and his stiff, aching wings still beating. His eyes scanned the foggy forms of the buildings below, shadowed in a darkness that would have been unbreachable for most others, illuminated in silver whenever lightning struck. Where was he? Surely he could recognize someplace below, which would tell him where he needed to fly in order to reach a place of safety.
Luckily, it didn’t take too much longer before Keigo caught sight of a place he recognized. Unluckily, it wasn’t a place of safety.
Dabi’s apartment building.
Dabi liked to live apart from the rest of the Liberation Front, maintaining his independence even though he came to work with them. It was fortunate that he did, since it helped Keigo keep in touch with him and meet with him in person. Dabi had never explicitly told Keigo where he lived, but the Commission had extensive records on the villain at this point and had managed to pinpoint his location.
Dabi didn’t like him. Keigo got the sense that Dabi was merely tolerating him, and was still suspicious of him. He wasn’t afraid to call Keigo out when he thought he was lying, and never failed to come up with new, creative ways for Keigo to prove his allegiance to the Liberation. It was a pain in the ass to deal with on a logistical standpoint, but oddly amusing whenever Keigo managed to push Dabi’s buttons.
He was definitely about to push them now, but it couldn’t be helped. If Keigo didn’t land soon then he was going to crash and die only a few minutes later, and there was no other recognizable building in sight. In Keigo’s current state, landing right now would leave him vulnerable to villains - and in this part of the city, there were plenty. Keigo wasn't the kind of guy to underestimate common thugs - any one of them might very well decide it was worth it to try and take out the number two hero while in his current state.
Hope you’re ready for visitors, Dabi , Keigo couldn’t help but think as he started to descend in a ragged spiral, unable to keep himself aloft any longer. He hoped the man would value his position as their “inside man” enough that he wouldn’t simply just kill him. Keigo fixed his weary eyes on Dabi’s balcony, readying himself for what was probably going to be a rough and uncomfortable landing.
I’m coming in!
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Dabi liked storms.
He’d always liked them. They were loud and fierce, filled with a wild sort of beauty. Lightning lit up the sky in jagged spears of flame. The sound of the wind rushing around combined with the spattering of rain was music to his ears.
His apartment, however small and decrepit, had one redeeming quality: the balcony. Dabi had the door open now so the sounds of the storm could waft inside, along with the smell of the rain. He leaned back in his chair, head tilted back, inhaling the fresh air and listening to the thunder boom outside. The wind blasted inside, scattering smaller items across the floor and the counters of his tiny kitchen, but Dabi didn’t care. It wasn’t like he kept things clean, anyways. Dabi was a functional person - aesthetics didn’t matter. As long as the stuff in his apartment was usable, it didn’t matter where it was or how it looked.
He was glad to be away from the League - no, the Paranormal Liberation Front now, God, what a stupid name. Twice would have been freaking out about the storm, and Toga would have gone along with his shenanigans. Shigaraki and Spinner probably would have vanished into the halls of the compound, their oh-so-powerful leader and his loyal bodyguard. Dabi liked them well enough - it was the natural consequence of spending so much time with them, after all - but he needed his space. He couldn’t be smashed together with that group all the time. He needed moments like this, alone and at peace listening to the monster of a thunderstorm brewing outside.
The sound came suddenly without warning, a frantic yelp followed by a loud thud from the balcony. Dabi jerked in his chair, cursing in surprise as the back legs slipped and he tipped over backwards, landing flat on his back. For a few moments he sat stunned, wheezing as he tried to suck air back into his flattened lungs. Then, as he glanced up, he caught sight of a single red feather being blown inside from the cracked-open balcony door.
Oh for God’s sake .
“What the hell?” Dabi groaned, his mood slipping from confused to angry in milliseconds. Heat sizzled under his patchwork skin as blue flames flickered on his fingertips, the sudden contrast of hot and cold air causing wisps of fog to develop around him. They continued to grow as Dabi got to his feet and stormed towards the balcony. “How the hell did you find this place, bird brain -”
He stopped at the sight of blood on the glass door, and the sight of a crumpled form on the balcony. Dabi took a few hesitant steps forward, eyes wide. His heartbeat had started to pound in his chest, but he wasn’t sure why. Was Hawks injured? Was it worse?
What was the idiot doing here?
Dabi didn’t like Hawks - the hero was too quippy, too laid-back, too much of a liar. Dabi hadn’t believed his little locked-in-a-cage spiel for a second. Hawks was living it up out there in his penthouse agency, popular, handsome, carefree. Dabi saw how the people loved him, and he knew how much money poured in from all the advertisements he modeled in, and all the merchandise he sold. For all his words about breaking the system, he was one of the biggest benefactors from it.
No, Dabi didn’t like him at all. Not one bit. Given the chance, he’d lock his balcony door and let Hawks sort himself out. The idiot deserved it after smashing into his balcony door like a bird into a window.
The image made him cringe. He’d seen birds do that, killing themselves with a single hit. Suddenly Dabi felt kind of uneasy, and he couldn’t help but take a few more steps forward, standing by the cracked-open doorway and looking down at the slumped body on his balcony. He couldn’t see much - Hawks looked less like a body and more like a pile of soaked clothing and feathers. He could see blood on the balcony floor. Damn it, that was going to stain.
The pile started to shift, Hawks groaning as he slowly got to his hands and knees. He was alive, then. Dabi rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall and raising his voice to be heard over the wind and rain, “Seems like you underestimated the weather! Unless you really thought you could fly through this, you cocky bastard.”
He watched Hawks shakily get to his feet, awaiting what he sure was going to be a pained by snappy reply. Instead, his body stiffened in shock as Hawks reached his full height, then immediately pitched forward towards the railing of the balcony. Dabi shut his eyes in disgust as the hero’s body heaved and his ragged wings shuddered. Gross.
“If all you’re going to do is show up and hurl off the side of my balcony then you can leave.” Dabi said flatly, folding his arms. “Flap your way to the fire escape and then take the stairs so you don’t smash into any other windows”
“S-sorry for crashing your house, man.” Hawks stammered, and Dabi straightened, his eyes narrowing. That didn’t feel right - the hero’s tone of voice was all weird. Hawks dragged himself off of the railing and flopped to the ground again, sitting with his back against the railing and his small wings pathetically hunched against his sides like feathery shields. The hero had a stupid grin plastered onto his face, his golden eyes were huge and - to Dabi’s immediate interest and slight concern - they were dazed and cloudy. In fact, Dabi was pretty sure that one of his pupils was larger than the others. That wasn’t good. Not only that, but there was a lot of blood streaming down the left side of his face - Dabi was pretty sure some of it was rainwater but it sure as hell was scary to look at.
“S-shoulda’ s-s-stayed at the Liberation F-front.” Hawks continued to say, giggling a little. He had started to shiver uncontrollably, his teeth audibly chattering. “S-saw your apartment and had t-to make a c-crash landing.”
“I saw that.” Dabi continued to stare at the hero, taking in the shivering, the clear and obvious signs of a concussion. The blood on his face, now staining his coat, was brilliant crimson against his pale skin, the color of Hawks’ feathers.
“I can s-stay here.” Hawks stuttered out, catching sight of Dabi’s face. “J-just fine out here. C-coat’s warm.” As if to give some emphasis, he huddled a little deeper into his soaked coat, wrapping his wings as tightly as he could on top of it in an effort to cocoon himself.
It, frankly, was pretty pathetic to look at. Dabi found his anger and irritation fading - tried to summon it back - and failed. This didn’t look like the number two hero. This didn’t even look like a hero, period. Hawks looked small and injured and pathetic, his feathery hair plastered to his head, practically drowning in his oversized coat.
He wasn’t going to give in. Nope, there was no way he was going to let a hero - not even a random hero but Hawks of all people - into his apartment, nevermind take care of them! Dabi should turn around, lock his door, and pretend like none of this ever happened.
But damn it, the Liberation Front needed Hawks - he was their inside man. Regardless of how much truth he actually spilled, he was clearly willing to take risks in order to gain the Liberation’s trust. Shigaraki would not be happy if Hawks died because Dabi had been too stubborn to get him out of the rain. Besides, Dabi had been planning on doing a little digging on Hawks for a while now. It would be incredibly satisfying if he could implement the hero into his plans with Endeavor.
But for any of this to happen, Hawks needed to be alive. And Dabi didn’t think the hero would last that long if he left him out in the rain with a head injury and a concussion.
Dabi sighed and gently rubbed his eyes. He was going to regret this.
“Bird brain.” Dabi said, opening his eyes and fully pulling the balcony door open, wincing in surprise as he was immediately slapped in the face by a wave of wind and icy rain. It felt nice though, and he quickly relaxed. “Get in here before you die. The Liberation wouldn’t want that.”
Hawks’ eyes went wide and his jaw slack, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dabi fought the urge to smirk - it made the hero look even more pathetic. The urge immediately faded when Hawks got to his knees, slowly and shakily, then got to his feet, only to fall back onto his knees with a gagging sound, clearly trying to not throw up. Dabi sighed and closed his eyes once again, listening to the sounds of the stupid, imbicilic pro-hero trying not to throw his guts up on his balconey.
Yeah, definitely going to regret this.