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There was pressure on his wings.
They were sensitive enough that Hawks could often feel the sensory input they picked up in his sleep. Such as what was happening right now.
His feathers tingled pleasantly from the pressure, immediately judged as harmless from the tender way it caressed downwards. No touch could ever be threatening when it was this calculated. The pressure stopped and returned in a constant motion, going in a cycle of rubbing from the base of his wings and down towards the very end of it before repeating, smoothing out stray and ruffled feathers along the way.
Whatever this pressure was, it was delightfully warm as well— soothing the metaphorical kinks in his feathers from yesterday’s hard work, chasing away the cold that clung to it with relentless heat.
A chirp unknowingly escaped from Hawks’ lips. He snuggled closer towards the source of the heat, face squishing further into a comfortable, albeit slightly scratchy, pillow. What a nice dream this was.
“It’s not a dream, pretty bird,” A voice whispered, soft and gentle yet capable enough to pull Hawks from the dregs of sleep.
Huh. Did he say that out loud?
Hawks blinked once, twice, fighting against the remnants of slumber that clung to his eyes, insisting that he should close them instead. The bright sunlight that filtered in through his bedroom’s floor-to-ceiling window assaulted his eyes, and there was absolutely no way of going back to sleep when the brilliant illumination chased what was left of the darkness in his room away.
A figure shifted in his vision, blissfully blocking the light from further attacking his eyes. Hawks could make out a bleary mix of pale and purple skin paired with a shock of teal eyes.
“Dabi?” Hawks croaked, relaxing once he recognized the voice. Without much thought, Hawks hid his face back onto Dabi’s chest— which he had wrongfully mistaken as one of his pillows —before croaking, “What time is it?”
The pressure of Quirk-warmed hands returned to his wings, and Hawks melted further into Dabi’s arms, elated chirps resonating in the air.
“Only 6 am,” Dabi whispered. He readjusted his position in Hawks’ bed, left hand continuing its job of playing with red wings while the right one was draped over a toned back. “I could wake you up in another 5 minutes if you’d like.”
By the laws of their superpower-enhanced society, the two of them should never have mingled like this. Tangled together in crisp white sheets, basked in the golden sunlight. Listening to a steady heartbeat beneath scarred skin, wings preened by a warm, loving hand. Talking in hushed voices about stealing precious minutes for a well-needed sleep.
But here they were: hero and villain, the corner of their eyes speckled by a hint of sleep crust, the whiff of morning breath escaping from each other's lips. Dabi, glancing down with a fond expression that conveyed a love he never dared to announce. Hawks, lips pulled into an earnest smile, eyes sparkling with immense adoration that put all of his public smiles into shame.
And what did Hawks think of their domestic and forbidden relationship?
“Nah, I’m good,” Hawks answered. Wiggling free from Dabi’s hold, Hawks took their first kiss of the day; chaste and short because they both needed to brush their teeth first, but still addicting. It took all of him to not claim another one. “Are you staying for breakfast?”
“Yup,” Dabi confirmed. Sluggish bodies fought their way from the cocoon of sheets they found themselves in, stumbling and balancing each other in their journey. “You need to go grocery shopping, though. I think we only have two eggs and enough rice for the both of us.”
Hawks laughed, two hands raised in a sheepish surrender. “We can share! I’ll give you more rice since you don’t like eggs.”
(This was where he belonged.)