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Keigo came back into consciousness in a blurry haze, like an out of focus watercolor hovering at the edges of his gaze.
It was an oddly gentle awakening, he noted, feeling like he was floating rather than being slammed with the onset of pain he could tell was hovering in the wings. And, literally, in his wings, given that he couldn’t quite feel them right. But there were arms wrapped around him gently, holding him aloft but careful, and there was something about them that soothed the ragged edges of his instincts.
Whoever was carrying him was warm, in the way he’d only known a handful of people to be. Warm, with a tight, almost possessive grip wrapped around him, and yet -
Precious, his mind whispered, awestruck and satisfied, as the deeply primal part of him preened at the very thought. Which meant, really, that it could only be -
“‘-abi?” he rasped, the sound coming out like a hoarse, steel strained whisper, and it sent sparks of pain stinging across the side of his face and his throat. He almost whimpered at the sudden surge as it tugged at his attention, but those slim-strong arms shifted under him, grip tightening, and it distracted him.
“Awake, birdie?” Dabi’s voice was rougher than usual, dark and raspy with a tone of something foreboding that would’ve usually had Keigo straightening, alert. Instead, still in a half-way haze rousing from the remnants of unconsciousness, Keigo let slip a soothing coo, hoping the sound would ease his mate’s mind.
Keigo blinked his eyes open just in time to see Dabi’s lips twitch blurrily, blue eyes darting down to fix him with a look Keigo wondered dizzily if he should be worried about, before his mind started to wander at how oddly stressed his mate looked. He chirped in concern.
“Don’t even try it, dove,” his mate admonished him, and Keigo’s brows furrowed as he tried to wrangle his thoughts through the cloudy haze of reality and the pain waiting just on the other side, “Stubborn, self-sacrificing little shit.”
Had Keigo done something to worry him? The thought was worrying, for as long as Keigo could pin it down. He was still feeling oddly floaty….
Dabi’s grip on him shifted, and pain spiked through him at the sudden pressure on his back - an injury Keigo hadn’t been aware of until this exact moment. He didn’t hear the pained shriek that ripped from him, but he could definitely feel the renewed pain from his already sore throat. The world hazed again, this cloud nothing as nice as the bliss of earlier, and he only barely noticed the way Dabi hastily shifted his grip again to ease the pressure as Keigo buried his face into his mate’s shoulder.
The world only sharpened back into a half-hearted focus a little while later, Keigo first becoming aware of the soft, sweetly pained cheeps escaping him, which followed by him abruptly trying to choke down the sounds. The next, was the soft pressure and soothing relief against his back. Surprise flooded him, as best it could, and Keigo shifted without opening his eyes, trying to pin down what was different. It felt like he was laying down on his side, but there was something so soothing and cool pressing against his back, where the pain had been -
“Feel better, birdie?”
Dabi!
All coherent thought slid straight out of his head, the smaller, more instinctual part of his brain activated from the pain taking the reins.
His mate was here, his mate had eased the pain from earlier - Keigo was safe. He let go of the stranglehold on his vocal cords in time to let a whistle of greeting slip through. A warm hand settled onto his shoulder - mindful of an injury that Keigo was only vaguely cognizant of, but firm enough that he could feel it.
He blinked through the haze of that pained sleep and smiled up at concerned blue eyes.
His mate’s next exhale was shaky, and Keigo wasn’t floaty enough to miss how Dabi’s shoulders seemed to relax. His next chirp was inquisitive.
“You got hurt bad, pretty bird,” his mate told him quietly, kneeling in front where Keigo was laying - on a familiar couch, he thought idly in the back of his mind, though he couldn’t pin down where, “Kurogiri went to grab some of the good shit from Garaki, but you’re still healing up.”
Keigo scrunched up his nose at the mention of the doctor, earning a huff of amusement from his mate. Neither of them liked the doctor, let alone that he had any information about Keigo at all. The League they trusted. The doctor…he was All for One’s man.
But if his mate had gone to the doctor…well, there were very few people Keigo trusted like he trusted his mate.
Keigo grumbled but chirped his acceptance at the fact, moving to shift his wings so his mate could sit with him on the couch. Keigo may dislike when Dabi exaggerated his shortness - he was fun-sized, hot-stuff! - but it meant they could both snuggle on the couch if they spooned. Only…why couldn’t he feel his wings?
An alarmed cheep escaped him, only soothed briefly by his mate’s gentle hand curling around his face, pained blue eyes distracting him.
“You got hurt, pretty bird,” his mate told him again, “Your wings took the brunt of it. But we’re taking care of it, biride. They’ll heal just fine, I promise.”
His mate’s voice was soothing, distracting - and not lying to him. Keigo could still feel the bones and the muscles connecting to his wings, even if he couldn’t see-hear-feel feathers, so his mate must be right. His mate was taking care of everything, just like he promised.
Keigo was without his wings, but he was still safe - his mate was watching out for him. That was good, especially since everything seemed to be floating away again.
“I’ll be right back, yeah?” Dabi said, voice soothing, coming at him as if from the distance, and Keigo hummed, a whistling chirp escaping his throat in the affirmative as his eyes drifted shut once more. A rustle sounded, and something was draped over him, smelling of safety and warmth and mate. Keigo cooed to himself softly and snuggled into the material. A hand carded through his hair, warm thumb brushing gently across his cheek.
In the background, a radio droned on.
“...ber two pro-hero Hawks missing in action after being knocked out mid-fight while rescuing a trio of college students from a redirected ball of flame…”
The darkness was warm and welcoming, and Keigo let sleep close over him like a blanket with a hand in his hair and the scent of safe-mate-home filling him to the brim.
“What do you mean Hawks is missing?” Miruko’s voice had never sounded so intimidating - which, honestly, was warning enough on its own. The Rabbit Hero was a terror in her own right, even with her boisterous personality slotting into a gleeful partnership whenever she was with Hawks and the younger hero’s usually chill and laid-back pretty boy vibes. But now, no one looking on could see an ounce of rowdy cheer or good humor in the dark-skinned hero’s face.
Not that anyone blamed her.
“He took the blow for us,” they were told by one of the three civilians Hawks had apparently rescued mid-fight while Endeavor and Miruko - fresh off a huge hero publicity event - had tackled the spontaneous turf war that had erupted between the League and another encroaching villain group. She was pale and looked half a breath from a panic attack, singed with light burns covering the exposed skin - though she’d fared a lot better than Hawks had, from her own words. “I just - remember all the fire heading our way. And even if I ran - and I couldn’t, it was like everything was happening in slow motion and I couldn’t move,” her breath hitched on a sob, even as one of her friends reached out to pat at her hand gently. “There was so much,” she continued, “and then he was there, shoving us out of the way - but his wings were already small, and he couldn’t get us all out before the flames hit.” She swallowed, words choking down in her throat - and then, she couldn’t get them out.
Her grim looking friend squeezed her unburned hand tightly, turning to the heroes with a stubborn, grim look on their face.
“He used his wings as a shield against the flames,” they said solemnly, “as he pushed us out of the way. I know he was hit - I heard him - ,” they swallowed, unwilling to complete the statement everyone knew was on the tip of their tongue.
I heard him scream.
“But then I was out - ,” they grimaced again, “My quirk makes me highly sensitive to heat, and I couldn’t handle the influx of it. I passed out before the shockwave of impact could even knock me out.”
Their shuddering friend - the first civilian - took back over, “I was knocked out, too,” she admitted, “But it was the impact that got me - I hit my head on the concrete.” The paramedics around her twitched, “But I - I remember waking up, everything hazy. And I remember looking around - because everything, everything looked so different when you’re in a daze. It was - almost peaceful. Except I - I heard footsteps.”
“Footsteps?” Endeavor jumped in, brows furrowing, as several of the other heroes exchanged glances, one of the detectives on the scene noting it down.
The civilian nodded, twisting her hands together severely, even to the point where she hissed, having agitated her own burn wounds. There was something in her gaze that had the whole team on edge.
“I thought - at first, I thought it was a hero,” she said, voice quavering, “I hoped it was Hawks - because that meant, that would mean he was okay. But I - if I looked to the right, I could,” she swallowed, “I saw him. On the ground. Breathing, but out cold. He was a haze to me, but his uniform was pretty distinctive - so I recognized it.” She shuddered, “And then, I realized the footsteps were coming towards us, so I tried to turn. It - made everything worse.”
She swallowed, staring at them with something verging on despair, “I - when I could see straight again, I realized that the footsteps - they were near Hawks. And when I looked, there was a dark blur - a tall, dark blur - standing over him.”
Her voice shook as she continued, “The blur bent down - and, I think I heard them say something about ‘moronic pigeons’?” she shook her head, still not sure she’d heard that right, even though Miruko had twitched at that particular epithet, “And then, they picked Hawks up and left.”
Her voice trembled and the very air seemed to stand still.
“I’m so sorry,” she wheezed hysterically, “I didn’t see who took him, I was barely even awake to register he was there, and then he wasn’t - I’m so - ,” the hysteric wheezing quickly morphed into a rapidly evolving panic attack, and the paramedics rushed over without another beat.
Even with the civilians now taken care of, none of them were at ease. Every hero glanced at each other, something like trembling terror and growing rage burning bright. Dying in the line of duty had never been something foreign to any of them. Had Hawks died tonight, they would’ve mourned - but it was a part of a hero’s life.
But being taken… when no one had realized he’d been hurt in the first place….
Their Number Two was missing, and they were going to get him back.
Dabi felt almost naked without his signature raggedy, ink-dark jacket. The white v-neck stood out in stark relief against the weave of scarred and healthy skin, soft enough to avoid being caught in his staples, but while it was normal wear for him it was striking without the usual black mantle to cover it.
His jacket was being put to a much better use, though, so Dabi didn’t mind too much.
The image of Keigo snuggling into the collar of his jacket, curling it close to him as if he couldn’t bear to part with it, made a primal part of his mind sing with possessive satisfaction. He let it indulge, for once, without relegating it to the back of his mind for later. Mostly, since it was the only reason he hadn’t given into the rising aura of black murder burning away under his skin. The only reason he hadn’t set off to take his temper out at those infuriating wannabe villains that had thought to challenge them or - worse - the so-called heroes who hadn’t bothered to make sure one of their own was okay.
Fresh steam wafted from his seams, and he huffed a snarling, steamy breath, trying to rein himself in.
He thought of Spinner’s wary gaze by the bar, hand tight over his katana as he’d watched Dabi pace. Of Shigaraki’s distracted twitch as he tried to play Mario Kart but couldn’t stop glancing over at the sight Dabi made. Of Toga’s bouncing that tried to conceal her own concern, while Twice had to leave the room for a breather, as undecided as he was. Of Compress and Kurogiri talking together, voices quiet as they discussed the situation, one eye on Dabi’s deteriorating temper.
Another breath, long and deep to remind himself that if he exploded in a temper, he wouldn’t be the only casualty.
Only the thought of Keigo asleep in Dabi’s shitty studio apartment in the next building over, well within the reach of the flames, forced his calm. And even then, the reason Keigo was there - still injured, in and out of consciousness, so out of it that he hadn’t even processed why Dabi was there, was only happy to see him… another breath. Dabi couldn’t afford to lose his temper here.
Not after today’s events.
It had been impulse that had Dabi retrieving an injured Hawks from the battlefield under the cover of smoke. Impulse and fury and no small modicum of guilt, since the flame that had hit his lover had been half his own volley.
That the other half had been Endeavor’s redirection blaze didn’t help the fury building into a frothing rage in the core of his heart.
But that fury was only half the devastating rage that ravaged him, knowing that no one had been aware enough of Hawks to see him get hit. To help him in that moment where he’d needed it. That - in that long moment where Dabi had held his bird in his arms and waited as he watched the paramedics and first responders flood the scene - not a single hero had noticed Hawks wasn’t there, wasn’t alright, wasn’t chiming in an affirmative response to the role call they’d called in over their comms….
On top of the HPSC’s blatant exploitation and negligence of his partner’s wellbeing, to see him so mistreated by the very comrades Keigo claimed to care for…well. The black rage in Dabi’s heart only grew.
If heroes were going to mishandle and neglect his birdie, then they couldn’t keep him.
It was an irrational thought, an irrational move with a heap of consequences looming as heady as the aura from Kamino’s clash of titans. Dabi knew he was going to have to give his birdie back at some point. The manhunt threatening to swallow down the city alone was a daunting thing to factor in, even with Kurogiri concerned and ready to help him move them about.
But fuck, everyone had been concerned the moment Dabi had stormed into the base with their injured pro-hero knocked out in his arms. Keigo had gotten under their skin, and maybe Dabi would’ve been more worried if he hadn’t known they’d done the exact same thing to him. Keigo was theirs.
Keigo was his.
Fuck, Dabi twisted to bury his face in his hands with a frustrated cut-off scream, he’d really screwed up.
There was a goddamn manhunt underway, heroes and civilians looking high and low for any sign of their beloved Number 2 Hero. And Dabi didn’t have the slightest idea how they were going to get Keigo back into the public space without a whole heap of questions crashing over the bird about where were you? Who took you? How are you okay?
And if the HPSC even began to suspect that Keigo had started moving away from the obedient little puppet they’d fashioned him into, that he’d started caring for the League, sympathizing with them even if he disagreed with their methods….
Dabi felt blue flames twitch into existence, winding seamlessly around his arms, coiling about him in a seething, possessive blaze. Dabi would utterly annihilate that shady fucking government bastion before he let them hurt his bird. Not again.
Not ever again.
But Dabi was the one who’d thrown Keigo into this conundrum now, by rescuing his pretty, injured bird from the battlefield. He just - he just hadn’t been able to stop himself.
Hawks had just been laying there. And no one had noticed.
Hell, only one of the civilians in a half-conscious daze had even noticed Hawks was there, let alone that he was hurt. None of the pros had even twitched in their direction. Not a single one had even asked over their comms, where was Hawks? Dabi had just stood there, for what’d felt like eons, just waiting. It had been something like agony, waiting like that. For someone to notice.
For someone to care.
Until Dabi had been unable to bear the heart-rending agony of it anymore, and gone to retrieve birdie himself. Like he should’ve done in the first place, instead of leaving it to the heroes who’d made their priorities very clear.
Heh, look at that, a part of his mind mused, more darkly amused than it should be, looks like I still had some faith in hero society after all.
Or maybe birdie’s pragmatic optimism was rubbing off on him. Yeah, that sounded a lot more reasonable. Even if the situation they were in was anything but.
Fuck - what a clusterfuck this was.
How the fuck was he even going to tell Keigo about the situation? What words could he use to describe how he’d just moved - just run for the downed hero - the moment he realized no one was coming?
“Dabi,” Kurogiri’s soothing voice drew his attention away from his spiraling thoughts and to the doorway, where yellow eyes blinked at him from a calm face, “I do believe young Keigo should wake up soon.”
His heart felt like it was in his throat, the deafening pulse almost drowning out anything else even as the line of tension in his shoulders slumped. Keigo was waking up. Keigo was going to be okay.
Anything else that came from this impulsive chaos, they could work through it.
They’d do it together.
end.