Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’re… letting me meet the league? Just like that?”

From in front of Hawks, sight of the distant streetlight obscured by the figure before him, Dabi flicked ash from his cigarette towards his red wings. Hawks held back the indignant squawk.

“Don’t sell yourself short, hero. You follow through as promised. Even brought us the body of the number three hero. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Hawks could feel his shoulders tensing in anticipation. Realistically, it should be enough to garner their trust, though the question seemed rhetorical, so he grinned lazily. “Yeah, I work my ass off to gain rank, but I wouldn’t put it past you to make me run a few more dirty errands. Like a grocery run, or-“

A scarred hand placed itself on the wall to the right of Hawk’s head, trapping him in. His hand was heated, and Hawks’ feathers involuntarily shivered down to the spine at just the thought of fire singing them. It was honest work to keep the grin from falling from his face as Dabi tilted his head downwards.

It would have been menacing if Hawks wasn’t already ass tired from his 48 hour patrol partnered with rigorous commission training and running on little food. Plus, Dabi’s eyes were shiny in the lowlight, and Hawks liked shiny things.

And-

Oh, he was talking.

Hawks must have been more exhausted than he thought.

”-Idiot. Birdie, are you even listening to me?”

”Ah, sorry,” Hawks sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “Rough patrol today, I’m still a little out of it.”

The villain scoffed, “you better not let that happen at the league meetings. Don’t make me regret this.”

”Yes boss.”

”And just because I’m giving you this opportunity doesn't mean I trust you further than I can throw you.”

Hawks kept his lips zipped and failed to mention the fact that his bones were hollow and Dabi could probably lug him pretty far if he really put his mind to it.

Dabi pushed away from the wall, and Hawks didn’t realize how suffocating the position had been until he could no longer feel the heat emanating off of the villain.

Hawks forced himself to pull away because the warmth wasn’t hot enough to burn him, and it was just the beginning of a long winter in Kyushu. He was cold. He missed the warmth.

Whatever happened next was simply a blur in Hawk’s mind because after Dabi dismissed him with a nod, he flew all forty minutes back and ended up in bed (still in his hero costume) what only felt like ten minutes later.

With no energy nor confidence in his crooked gait to stand up and traverse to change his clothes, his eyes slid shut…

Only to open back up a few minutes later.

Or perhaps, three hours later when his alarm clock rang.

Because he was never allowed to sleep for more than six hours, and the League infiltration mission cut into that time. Hawks could quite confidently say that he did not have another twenty four hour shift plus a hero meeting and photo shoot in him, but he had claimed that before, and what the president did in retaliation was a lot worse than any hypothetical ‘struggling’ he would endure.

With a sigh, he lifted himself from the mattress and gained his bearings using the bland one bedroom apartment wall to lead him to the restroom.

He was the one who wanted to be a hero, after all.

No matter how exhausting Hawk’s job may be, he would always do it, just for the satisfaction of helping the helpless of the world. Even if the collar around his neck wound tighter and tighter.

Chapter Text

The next morning went by like both molasses and the fastest moving train that Hawk’s had ever been on. It was miserable and cold and Hawks was unsure of how his sleep deprived mind was even faring at the moment.

Years of training.

Sheer willpower.

A mixture of both, maybe.

That morning he proceeded to fly slightly higher in altitude during his midday patrol and successfully nailed an entire flock of birds. “Dammit,” he groaned, the icy wind curling its fingers through his wild hair as he grabbed one of the birds with his hand, tossing it to the side.

Another hit him square in the face, breaking his visor.

The rest just decided to shit on his jacket.

Around lunchtime, he flew closer to the ground. Thankfully, it was a fairly uneventful day with only a few purse snatchers to worry about. He even got to perch on the rooftop of a company building for an hour, the most rest he had gotten in a while.

Then, of course, because the universe wanted to spit on his face, he ran into a window.

Was Hawks a human? Yes. Did he still have issues seeing glass?… Also yes.

“Hawks!” A civilian from down below gasped and pointed as if that would help the giant welt on his forehead.

“Ugh,” he fluttered his wings extra, pumping to get higher into the air and avoid the building he had just ran into. He caught sight of his reflection and his wings puffed and-

No, dammit. He was not going to fight his own reflection.

The commission had trained him out of that a while ago.

He bit the inside of his cheek, tasting copper as cameras clicked and-

Yeah, this would definitely be a headline within the next few hours.

The afternoon activities were impossible, even more tedious than running into buildings and tasting other birds feathers.

The photo shoot the commission had lined him up to participate in was nothing short of torture. As soon as he stepped into the studio, his stomach curled in on itself as the fragrance of meat filled the air.

Meat that Hawks was very much not allowed to have.

He stilled the instinctive whine when he caught sight of the white cloth covered tables with stacks and finger foods, the cameramen and staff eating and enjoying themselves before Hawks was due to take his pictures.

The chauffeur must have noticed his lingering gaze, because she raised an eyebrow, “Do you want some food? It’s open table for everyone..”

Saliva pooled into the back of his throat, but before he could confirm or deny, a voice interjected. “He’ll be fine, thank you very much.”

His handler stepped between him and the food, blocking his vision from the gloriousness. He would have to stick to his microwaved pre-planed meals.

Hawks could only wonder exactly why his handler had shown up at a photoshoot as he was led to the dressing closet.

“Sir,” he greeted as the door closed, bowing his head slightly.

“Hawks,” he said flatly, no intonation. “Get dressed, we have plenty to do today.”

As if Hawks hasn’t already done plenty enough.

Hawks really should have bothered to ask exactly what company he was shooting for. He then realized just why his handler had come with a sick feeling bubbling in his gut. He swallowed down the growing nausea as he picked up the first set of… clothes.

“What is this?” He asked, stretching the fabric, “isn’t this supposed to be a winter photoshoot? This is basically nothing.”

“You’ll wear a jacket over the outfit.”

‘Outfit’ was a modest word to use to describe the clothing.

“Remember Hawks, you gave up the life of privacy when you signed to be a pro-hero,” his handler got closer, leaning to the shell of his ear. Hawks forced himself to remain stalk still, “We can take that away from you. You’re lucky to even have an opportunity to shoot for this company, ungrateful brat.”

Hawks bowed his head, fingers gripping into the sheer fabric. “I apologize,”

His handler’s gaze softened, “most all of these pictures won’t be published, though you are the first winged user they want and they wish to see how their clothesline shapes up. You, obviously, are a proper specimen for it, along with the fact that your popularity votes have been on a downwards curve lately…”

Specimen.

Hawk’s wasn’t a human. He was a thing.

He resolutely ignored the clenching in his empty stomach as he situated himself into the outfit, the only thing on his mind that none of the shoot would be published… unless his popularity shot down even more.

It was all just a veiled threat, a mind game to convince Hawks to do better. To work faster, To work harder. Unless he wanted the pictures of him on the front of a magazine.

“What do you think, Hawks?” A woman, the designer of the clothesline he assumed, asked as he posed yet again. At least his handler was correct in the fact that he had a leather jacket to wear. It hid the ugly junction of where his skin met his wings. “Don’t be afraid to tell me how it feels, I want this clothesline to be wing friendly.”

The leather was uncomfortable and ripped at his feathers. He could feel where some of his already molting feathers were dislodging against his spine, blood pricking slightly. With a glance to his handler, he smiled brightly. “Nope! It’s very comfortable! Think I look good?” He winked to the camera and smirked.

The woman flushed.

Hawks resolutely ignored the cameramen at work. Ignored the woman still measuring him, her fingertips brushing his skin and setting fire underneath it. When his wings ruffled, the feathers puffing up, his handler shook his head and immediately he shrank back.

Almost an eternity later found him sitting on a plush couch, back in his hero outfit for the last part of the photoshoot, the interview that would perhaps be posted in small clips as a tease to the fans that he had, in fact, strutted around in men’s shape wear.

He stamped down the humiliation.

Heroes only feel pride, his handler had whispered into his ear before the camera was pressed to record. His hand rested on the back of his neck, a silent warning.

The questions, thankfully, were nothing like the shoot.

Typical.

“What does the love life of Hawks look like? Any maidens back at home to mention?”

A bright smile.

“No ma’am, still as single as ever, though I’m sure these bright wings will attract a mate sometime in the future, don’t you think?”

A blush.

“For sure, they are lovely looking, aren’t they? And how did the clothes today make you feel? Empowered?”

”Ah, well I think more people should be comfortable in their own skin, and a perfect way to express themselves is with what they wear!”

”That is a good motto, though that dosn’t address the fact of whether you personally condone-“

Hawk’s eyebrow twitched and the talons underneath his gloves shifted, grinding against the fabric in search of something to grab onto. In the end, he choose his own thigh.

“-Hawks? Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes…” Suddenly the room around him was much too bright, the luminescent lights flashing bright and hot against his sensitive skin. He itched all over and his eyes hurt with the sheer amount of effort it took not to blink, flinch, or even just fall asleep on the spot.

He hurt.

His bones hurt.

”Hawks,” a deeper voice interjected, and the dots that Hawks hadn't even realized were obscuring his vision, dissipated. His handler stood before him, that lithe and paralyzing hand clamped onto the back of his neck.

Hawks was speechless, frozen.

He had never liked his handlers paralyzation quirk. It was useful in shutting him up.

“Are you with us now?” The man, because Hawks was never allowed to learn his name, asked. He was monotone, not even pretending to care other than the fact that Hawks was ruining the interview.

“Yes sir,” Hawks affirmed with a weak voice, swallowing down the lump in his throat. The world tipped on its axis as hhis handler backed away, hand leaving its place. He was replaced with a worried looking woman, shoving a glass of water into his hands.

“Mr. Hawks, are you okay? We can call medical if you need-“

”There is no need for that,” his handler held a hand out, watching Hawks closely as he sipped tentatively on the water. The substance, somehow, made him feel immensely better.

He gave the woman a reassuring smile, “Sorry about that, sometimes hero work can catch up to you at the worst times!”

She nodded, as if she understood. “I see. Keep the water and take a break if you need it.”

As an apology, Hawks gave her an autograph and reviewed the clothing line a five out of five leaving the magazine cover (that would probably be of him rather than some other man like he had been hoping. After that stunt, there was no way he stood a chance of keeping his pride.) with a quote.

Once outside, the air hit his face and suddenly he felt rejuvenated. Or, he would have if his handler hadn’t sneered down at him. “You’ll report back to the commission at the proper check in time for your punishment.”

Hawks tasted iron as he nodded.

Play stupid games, get stupid prizes.

Loose stupid games, get stupid punishments.

“Hawks,” Endeavour, number one hero and a pain in his ass on a good day, announced as he walked into the room. “If you claim to be the fastest hero alive, how is it that you’re the last one at the meeting?”

Hawks would have had time to make it if he hadn’t ended up puking in some back alley dumpster.

He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, the photoshoot went on longer than planned. They had me wearing some real intricate items, I think you’d look great in some of them.”

The humor was lost on the room, and when the article was published, Hawks will enjoy the mental laugh he received from them.

“Just sit down.”

”Aye aye,” Hawks lazily saluted as he plopped down into the chair, wings awkwardly tucked into his sides to prevent them from being crushed. It was nice to get some weight off of his legs and wings, like the sky had been momentarily opened up with spring rain to trickle onto him.

As Endeavour continued to yap, Hawks distantly felt eyes boring into the side of his skull. He met eye contact with the underground hero, Eraserhead, and sent him a two finger wave.

The man looked homeless, and was quite creepy because for some reason he always seemed to stare whenever Hawks was in the room. He strained back to remember what he possibly could have done to get on the mans bad side, but came up empty.

Oh well.

Not everyone would like Hawks, though not for the commissions lack of trying.

“-So everyone should put in their seasonal outfit change request before it gets too cold.” The fire hero concluded, most heroes giving Midnight a side eye. She never changed her outfit, no matter how revealing it may be.

Hawks wished he had a choice in the matter.

If it were up to him, he would have no shoes at all to better allow him to grip onto ledges, likewise with the gloves, though the abominations that remained hidden underneath should never be allowed to be seen by anyone.

Then there was the halter top.

It was cold dammit, especially when he was flying.

He doubted a long sleeve top would hinder him too much in fighting-

“-Hawks, are you paying attention?”

Hawks perked up at his name, only to feel at least thirty pairs of eyes on him. “I was just thinking about my winter suit! Do you think I should go pink?”

A stray flame on the number one hero's face ignited, and much to Hawk’s surprise, he reigned it in. “You never change costumes, bird, and you never will. Do you have anything you would wish to add on the discussion of influx of Nomu?”

Hawks zipped his lips shut as a non answer.

He never would consider Endeavours voice to be ‘comforting’ or even ‘calming’ but it was a drone in the background of his rampant mind. Pinching himself with clawed fingertips to keep himself awake. To keep himself from falling out of the chair and curling his exhausted body up into a heap on the floor.

Exactly an hour later on the dot, the end of the meeting, Eraserhead stooped in front of the window, blocking Hawk’s exit. The sky outside was purpling with the sunset. It was getting darker a lot earlier now.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? An autograph, maybe?”

”You can drop the act,” the underground hero said gruffly as the other heroes started to filter out of the room, some still mingling with each other. They didn’t look too out of place, though they were the oddest pair in the room. Hawk’s had never talked to the man in his life.

The smile almost slipped from his face. Almost.

“Dunno what you’re talking about man-“

”Aizawa.” He interrupted, “You can call me Aizawa.”

”Alright then… Aizawa. Look, unless you needed something, I really gotta get going now-“

The man was stronger than he looked, because he stopped Hawks with one hand to his shoulder. “I suggest you go home, and call in tomorrow. If not for your own sake, then for the sake of the civilians.”

Hawk’s eyebrows slowly rose to his hairline. He waited a beat to see if the man’s as joking, but he got the notion that he didn’t joke a whole lot, if his homeless persona was anything to go by.

”I can’t say that I know what you’re talking about.”

Eraserhead- Aizawa- eyed him as if he was the dullest person he had ever come across. Hawks was used to those looks, mainly from his handler and Endeavour. “You’re exhausted,” he elaborated. “Could barley keep yourself awake during the meeting.”

”Well yeah, but the meetings were a lot more fun when All might was leading them. He’s got more of a boisterous presence-“

”You logged a 48 hour patrol the other day,” the man interrupted. Hawks hid the wince. He sure did his research, huh? No wonder he was staring at him the entire time. “That exceeds the healthy limit of any pro hero. I don’t know or care if you’re doing it for the overtime money, but-“

Hawks couldn’t stop the humorless laugh from bubbling past his lips. Like dead leaves against the pavement. Hawk’s didn’t get paid, most all of his checks funneled their way back into the commissions hands. A way to repay them for training him. He only received a quarter of the funds. The usage of such money was monitored heavily.

It sat in the commission's savings account anyway.

“You find this funny?” The underground hero raised an eyebrow. “Or are you lacking in so much sleep that you’re delusional?”

Hawks honestly didn’t know that answer himself.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, this is nothing I haven’t done before. I am well trained to do my hero duties as I please.”

As the commission pleased.

“Someone’s gotta be Kyushu’s guardian anyway. You know?”

Aizawa looked like he very much didn’t understand. By now, the sun had sank below the skyline of the city, and Hawks really needed to go.

“Sorry man,” he pushed past the hero, and he let him this time. “I’ve got a super hot date to catch.”

Those black eyes watched as he unlatched the window and took flight.

He could feel them tracking him, even when he was out of sight.

The burner phone kept in his jacket pocket buzzed. Hawks made sure he wasn’t in danger of hitting any more birds as he reached to click his phone on. It was hard to read and fly at the same time.

Hot stuff: Meet at the pinned location in ten minutes
[Hot stuff has shared location]

Hawks didn’t know whether to feel elated or borderline crazed. On one hand, Dabi was finally introducing him to the rest of the league. On the other… This would cut into his sleep time after his punishment.

He sighed, breath misting into the turbulent winds. It was starting to rain.

‘Be there in a few.’

He shot a quick text to his handler to alert him of the situation before diving down to the alleys and darker parts of the city.

‘This won’t prevent your punishment’ his handler reassured once he landed in front of the rundown building, ‘just prolong it.’

Not that Hawks had expected any different.

The hideout was just as he had been expecting, a bar similar to the last one with an upstairs, presumably leading to separate rooms, and a big room in the center with rundown couches and armchairs, looking like they had been collected from the curb of separate garage sells.

“Welcome,” The smoky one was the first to notice his entrance- Kurogiri, if he remembered correctly. “If you need a towel, there are some behind the bar.”

Hawks waved off the offer, shaking the rainwater from his wings. They immediately fluffed back to normal, and from behind him, a teenage girl giggled.

“What pretty feathers you have!” She jumped onto his back. Hawks stayed stock still as she held the knife to his throat. This would be Toga, then. “I want to see them bleed!”

Her elbow jutted into his right wing uncomfortably, and she frowned. “Aren’t you a hero Hawksie? Why don’t you fight back?”

Wouldn’t that defeat the entire purpose of meeting the league? To fight them?

”You can ignore her,” Dabi’s familiar presence eased Hawks as he batted the teen from off of his back.

Wow. Hawks must really be tired if Dabi was the one giving him reassurance.

“She won’t take your blood unless you give her express permission,” another chimed in, a masked magician. ”Correct?”

Toga pouted, but nodded nevertheless,

The rest of the league tended to their own activities, barely acknowledging Hawks. Shigaraki, the esteemed leader, sat on a recliner and kicked his feet as he smashed his fingers onto the buttons of a game boy.

Hawks sweat dropped. “Erm… Aren’t we having a meeting?”

“Dabi didn’t tell you that the there’s no meeting?” Twice asked, then, “Fuck you, we don’t want you here. Leave.”

Hawks shot Dabi an annoyed look, and the villain only shrugged, not looking guilty in the slightest.

“If there’s no meeting, then why did you invite me here in the first place?”

Toga, the creepy little thing, appeared from behind him once again. She made his feathers ruffle. She proudly held up a remote controller. “Tonight’s game night, silly birdie!”

Hawks let out a noise of confusion that could be passed well enough as slightly human. “Game… night?”

Hawks tried to bite back the annoyance. He could have been sleeping by now.

“Just take a seat already, you’re hard to look at right now.” Dabi pushed him down onto the sofa, taking the vacant cushion next to him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just wanted to see me.” He batted his eyes and Dabi simply put a hand on his face, pushing him away. (And thankfully, not frying him on the spot.)

Though maybe if he was fried, he could get some sleep.

Spinner, the reptile mutant quirk user, placed a controller into his gloved hands, eyeing them strangely, Hawks tensed. Could he see through the fabric somehow? His fingers curled in on themselves and Spinner only rolled his eyes to continue distributing the controllers.

For such a run down place, the television worked perfectly fine.

“What is this?” Hawks found himself asking, more to himself than to anyone else, as the screen loaded into bright colors and pixels. He himself had never been allowed to own any technology besides his commission equipped phone.

The leagues heads all shot to him.

Even Shigaraki.

Hawks swallowed, ready to be decimated on the spot.

“You don’t know what smash brothers is?” Toga asked, as if her little heart had been broken. Tears welled up in her eyes and Hawks scrambled to pat her on her shoulder awkwardly from her place on the other side of him.

“Ah- sorry.”

”Oh she’ll be fine,” Spinner shook the controller in his hand, “but this just means that you have to learn now. If you want to be one of us, that is.”

And yes, if Hawk’s initiation to the group would be succeeding in this… smash brothers… game, then he would pass.

(He wouldn’t. He lost at least twelve straight rounds before Dabi, next to him, told him the correct buttons to smash with his clumsy bird fingers.)

Hawks was sure he would be better at any other game. Like blackjack, or strip poker even.

The league overall, were weird, but… pleasant?

During his time there, not one of them had asked him about his personal life or hero work. Not one of them had drilled him for information or to prove himself or even about his validity as a human rather than a bird.

Toga bit her nails when she was nervous. She always kept stuffed animals around herself and treated them as Live pets. Apparently, she wasn’t allowed to have those or she’d eat them.

Dabi occasionally shot spurts of hot air over to spinner to prevent him from falling into hibernation, and Hawks himself felt like his bones were being thawed from a cold winter at the heat.

Kurogiri was a calming presence as Shigaraki whined like a little kid when he lost the video game.

Hawks was surprised he didn’t fall asleep on the couch then and there, lulled by the clicking of controllers and the frequent complaints of others. Before he could relax fully (In a villain's din. Bad Spy work, on his part,) Dabi interrupted his near slumber.

“You’re too stupid to be thinking that hard.”

Hawks sighed and adjusted himself in the seat. His legs were falling asleep. “Just because I’m a bird doesn't mean I have the brain of one. Or the other traits, for that matter.”

Dabi grinned, staples pulling at his mouth. It was not a nice sight. “Sensitive subject?”

”None of your business, hot stuff.”

“Villains are people too. You came here for a meeting, but we’re having game night. Does that make you pissed? That villains do normal people things?”

Hawks, taken back by the question, turned his head to finally make eye contact with the villain. “I’ve…. Never had a game night.” He admitted. “The thought of villains doing normal humane things never crossed my mind.”

”Because you’re not really normal yourself, bird.”

Hawks shrugged. He would take what he could get. “I suppose.”

Dabi’s body heat next to him was warm, and Hawks firmly held his place on the couch no matter how cold on the inside he felt. He wondered if the heat was his natural body temperature, or if he was purposefully using his quirk.

Either way, he made it a point not to ask.

“Hawksie, can I play with your wings?” The teenage girl next to him asked once she seemed to get bored of the video game. Her gold eyes, a shade paler than his own, locked onto his back. “There’s some ruffled feathers. All out of place.”

A small avian section of Hawk’s heart squeezed at the comment.

“Oh, uhh…” he really didn’t want the villains anywhere near his wings, but then again, she couldn’t possibly be worse than the commission. “Go ahead,” he relented, and she squealed in pure glee as Hawks shifted to give her his back. In this new position, he was facing a smug looking Dabi, and Hawk discreetly flashed him the middle finger.

It was always a challenge for Hawks to preen his wings, having to bend at awkward angles to get to the roots and his non-flight feathers. While occasionally, Toga’s nails would dig just a bit too deep into his sensitive nerves, or scratch at the tired feathers, it was… nice.

“Oh! What’s this!”

“Hm?” Hawks questioned, half asleep and coming back down to his body as the league gathered around in curiosity. Like he was a bird in an exhibit.

Dabi hummed, and Hawks could practically feel his chest vibrate with how close he was, peeking over his back. “I thought your feathers were all red, birdbrain?”

Panic shot down Hawk’s spine like a red hot fire as he straightened up.

No.

Red feathers only.

Any other feathers looked horrendous and were unnatural.

Instinctively, he scrambled to reach back and pluck the singled feather out, despite the league's protest from around him. His brain was fuzzy, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen, and he was starting to feel like he felt earlier, at the photoshoot.

Humiliated.

Light Headed.

“You just plucked out your own feather,” Spinner looked at him in disgust, Like he was gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. He was background noise to Hawks as he held the small golden feather in his thick gloved hands.

This meant he would molt soon. New feathers sprouting with different sizes and colors, though they never let him keep those. At least, the ones that weren’t red, no matter how itchy they got.

He had a few weeks at least before the rest came in.

“Hawks?” Toga asked, looking significantly more serious than he had ever seen her in the short time of knowing her.

“Here,” Hawks smiled as loosely as he could, reaching to tuck the feather behind her ear, “you can keep it as a souvenir. Our first time meeting.”

She tilted her head. “Didn’t it hurt?”

”Hmm? No, not really.”

There was no recovery from the tense atmosphere Hawks had created, He felt trapped. He needed to leave. Spinner opened his mouth, like he would call Hawks out on his bullshit, before Dabi held up a phone.

Hawk’s phone.

“You’re getting blown up,” he lazily held the device between two fingers as Hawks’ snatched it back from him. “Looks like your girlfriend really wants you home, bird.”

Hawk’s first thought would have been ‘What girlfriend’ if he hadn't seen the contact and felt like he had been kicked in the gut. The commission wanted him back, and they wanted him back now.

He had their contact saved under a fake name.

Aoi Akeda was currently texting him of his failure to check in.

Hawks pocketed his phone and got up to retrieve his heavy cargo jacket from the coat wrack. Outside, the storm had only wavered once, back at full force. “I need to get back, thanks for your hospitality and-“

”You can wait the storm out, if you wish,” Kurogiri offered, and if he had a face, Hawks was sure he would look worried.

“Do what you want,” Shigaraki waved a dismissive hand, eyes not leaving his game boy. The best yes he would ever get.

“Hate to burst the party, but I’ve really gotta go-“

”Hawks?” Toga asked in a soft voice, halting him in his tracks from pushing the creaky door, about to fall off of its hinges. She held out the golden feather carefully hustled between her palms, “Thanks for the feather, I won’t lose it.”

She may be a crazy little thing that gave Hawk’s the creeps, but… he reached out to ruffle her hair, and she looked as if he had hung the moon.

“Fly safe!” Twice shouted, “Get away from Toga, I hate your ass!”

On his way back to the commission's stark white building, his phone rang with a text.

Hot stuff: Good work, feathers. They like you well enough I still hate you, though.

Hawks scoffed, pushing away that warm feeling that the very corner of his bird instincts felt. This flock liked him.

Then he forced himself to remember that people were humans, and there was no such thing as flocks. They were a metaphorical thing for him, something out of reach that, even if real, he could never attain

The moment his feet touched upon the rooftop of the commission building, his handler was there to cup the back of his neck and force him inside.

Chapter Text

“You do understand that we were lenient with you today, correct, Hawks?” His handler asked, though over the static buzz flooding the heroes brain, he sounded underwater.

The metallic ceiling above him twisted and warped, like one of Kurogiri’s portals. The floor underneath him was blessedly cold, but he refused the urge to twist and nestle into it.

They let him keep his clothes, the undergear, then ran him through rigorous training modules. Soaked to the bone from the drowning, hot from the flashes of salt that had been added to scrapes. Legs jelly from the miles ran with wings tied behind his back.

”I understand,” he admitted, through gasps. Because his handler was looking down at him expectantly.

This was nice of them.

No broken bones or lost wings, this time around.

“For such a large mistake. That interview could have gone a lot worse if it had been live. To add on, you were late for your check in.”

The interview. The pictures.

Hawks bit back the urge to argue that the entire reason he was late to his check in was because they were doing the jobs that they gave him, but decided against that. Because instead, he could only open that stupid mouth of his to ask even stupider questions.

“T-the pictures?” He asked.

Just as the room started to steady itself, he could only catch a glimpse of the man's darkening expression before there was an iron tipped boot colliding with his face.

Hawks guessed that was his answer.

“You’re ungrateful. I can run you through twice the exercises and double your patrol tomorrow if I wish. But since I’m so lenient with you, I’ll let it go.”

Hawks could only clutch onto his nose and nod, because they never liked to not be acknowledged even if he was on the verge of passing out.

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

”Next time we will not be so nice,” he sneered, eyeing the boots that covered Hawk’s ugly talons. He curled his feet closer to him, talons shrinking painfully underneath the thick fabric of the too small socks.

“You have been gracious with me sir.”

And that seemed to work because the handler stepped away, the look of hate never falling from his face because he truly hated Hawks. When Hawks was younger, he had made a mistake and hugged his handler, a woman who would sometimes even offer pats on the backs when he did good, but he hadn’t seen her since he had hugged her.

“Get up. You’ll report to your apartment and check in for patrol tomorrow as scheduled.”

Hawks’ legs shook underneath him as he drug his body from off of the floor. Scraps of fabric hung loosely from his torso. Hands on his knees and body half bent, he held his head down. “Thank you for handling me, sir.”

The words were dry on his lips. They felt manufactured, fake. But Hawks knew that it was hard to see his own appreciation for the commission now, when he was beaten and bloody. Later on, soaring through the air and saving people, he would find his deep appreciation for all the commission has done to make him the number two hero.

His handlers lips drew into a thin line.

At this moment, Hawks could pretend that he didn’t hate him so much. That he was proud of him.

“Go home.”

”Yes sir.”

Hawks was thankful for the fact that the commission gave him a grey sweatshirt and pants to change into, because if the public caught sight of him on the way to his apartment, beaten and bloodied, it would make headlines.

Possibly, even more headlines than him hitting a damn window.

Everything with the commission was grey.

Using his wings to lug his exhausted body to the balcony and through the sliding glass doors, Hawks couldn’t help but fall directly to the floor, feeling like a bag of bones.

The tile felt nice against his hot skin.

Here, with no prying eyes, he let out a distinctly bird sound from his chest. He could only feel momentarily guilty about if before he nuzzled into the coldness, body seeping into the floor…

“Hey birdie.”

God fucking dammit.

Hawks didn’t have the energy to jump in surprise, only opening one half lidded eye to look up at the villain perched on his couch, staring down at him.

“You could have at least fallen onto the couch. It’s like, two feet away.”

”Too tired.” His cheek felt sore against the floor. The nasty cut on his jawline was probably bleeding, the rest hidden underneath his commission issued clothes.

“That’s what your damn wings are for.”

”Too tired,” Hawks repeated. His wings felt like they would fall off of his back at any moment, the junction connecting to his shoulder blades cramping with red hot intensity.

Dabi frowned and Hawks would have called him out on his concern if it didn’t feel like his mouth was stuffed with cotton.

“What got stuck up your ass? Can’t even get off of the floor.”

”Patrol, hot stuff,’ Hawks struggled to get up to his elbows (which had been slit with a jagged knife in perfectly symmetrical slices on either end. He didn’t cry out.) “Some of us- ugh- have working jobs.”

A boot was placed onto his back, and pressed down. Hawks stifled a hiss as Dabi pushed him back to the floor, thankfully, with only a little force. He kept his boot between his wings, bending down to stare at Hawks with heated intensity. “That’s weird, cuz’ I didn’t see any major fights on the news.”

Hawks raised an eyebrow, and yea, his jaw was definitely bleeding. “You look out for me on the news, hot stuff?”

“Shut the fuck up.” The boot left his back, and Hawks would have missed the pressure if it wasn’t focused on such a sore area. “Lie all you want birdie, but don’t lie to yourself.”

Or whatever that meant.

Hawks didn’t have the patience nor energy to flesh that out.

His bones felt like weights, sinking him to the depths of the ocean. His chest constricted, uneven against the floor. “I think I’ll just…”

He felt his eyes closing against his will.

And, well, if Dabi wanted to kill him in his sleep, than at least he’d know sooner rather than later if the villain really trusted him. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, because at least then he’d get some rest.

The first thing Hawks noticed upon waking up was the stiff floor underneath him and the sunlight filtering through his balcony.

Then the drool all over the floor.

Then the blanket that had been draped across his body haphazardly, pillow under his head, and the bandage that covered his jawline. He didn’t remember patching that up before promptly passing out.

Body feeling significantly less leadened, he made quick work of cleaning the drying cuts from his body under the stream of the shower. Then, when he opened the fridge to microwave one of his commission planned meals-

A bag of takeout shoved his puny vegetables and rice to the very back.

And it smelled absolutely appetizing.

If his handler found this in his refrigerator, they would hold any meals from him for an entire week.

Swallowing down the saliva and biting back a slightly hurt chortle from his throat, he immediately took the takeout with one hand and stuffed it in the trash can, shoving it below the other trash for good measure.

It smelled like meat.

There was so much meat in there.

Hawks was hungry.

The kind of hunger that couldn’t be fixed from his rice and vegetables.

The commission was lenient enough to grant him the morning to collect himself and lick his wounds before an afternoon patrol, so by the time he got back out, he felt the most refreshed he had been in the past month minus the constant pounding in the back of his head begging him for more sleep.

And food.

And water.

And a thicker halter top underneath his hero jacket.

By the time the sun had just begun to set, Hawks didn’t have to do very much villain busting. He liked to perch in the alcove of the library building, a place where no one could see him from down below, and watch the sunset. Oranges and reds swirling with purples and blues to paint the serine picture of Kyushu at its best. This was Hawk’s favorite pastime. Sometimes, he would imagine himself flying with the flocks of birds. He didn’t know exactly where, but somewhere free. Somewhere warmer.

Just as his wings barely flapped to land him, there was a distant crash that he otherwise would have not heard if not for the vibrations sensed from his weathers.

He heaved a heavy sigh.

”Maybe another time.”

He waved the passing birds farewell, and really, he wouldn’t have been so annoyed if he hadn’t spotted a Nomu down below, throwing cars around like some cheesy King Kong reenactment.

Shigaraki really needed to calm down with the Nomu bullshit. Or at least, get them to act less like typical birdbrains.

As a car flew past him and Hawks outstretched a hand to snatch the driver from the vehicle midair, he wondered if Dabi was sitting down on one of those raggedy couches, laughing at him and eating his popcorn.

“Thank you,” the woman babbled as he set her safely down onto cracked pavement. “No problem, follow the others and evacuate yourself.”

He needed to focus on the civilians, they were his number one priority.

Dispersing his feathers to lead the citizens away while dodging things thrown his direction by the creature, he opened his phone that automatically connected to the Kyushu police station.

”Hawks here, hero ID A-1007, I’m going to need at least a three block evacuation radius about a mile southbound of Kyushu library. Go ahead and air a villain alert to any nearby electronics.”

There was distant tapping on the other end of the phone as Hawks grunted, dodging yet another hurl of pavement sent his way.

The nomu seemed to have super strength, but nothing more than that.

Hawks was not good against power quirks, more for rescue and long range support.

“Are you going to need any backup sent, sir?”

Hawks opened his mouth, then closed it again.

‘I suggest you call in tomorrow, if not for your sake, then for the civilians.’

The man had been right, as annoying as he was. Hawk’s head pounded, begging for relief, but he was too focused on the feathers around him, scooping people up and depositing them a mile away.

“Yes, send any available units and heroes, please.”

Hopefully the commission wouldn’t be too rough on him for getting other pro’s involved, but Hawk’s had the best save record of any other hero and he was not about to let that drop now.

Hawks felt himself lock in as the onslaught continued. The commission didn’t like it when he did that. Told him it looked unnatural, like a predator analyzing prey when he stared too long and didn’t blink.

The best course of action would be to continue distracting the Nomu while carting civilians who stayed behind to record on their phones up and away.

Hawks loved the people of Kyushu. He really did enjoy being somewhat of a guardian angel, but sometimes they got a bit too comfortable with him.

“Need assistance?” A familiar voice asked as pro hero Eraserhead emerged from…. Wherever he came from. What was he doing in Hawk’s city?

“Would have been nice if they sent a power type quirk, but this’ll do. Can you help with evacuation while I go on offense? Maybe see if erasing its quirk will help.”

Aizawa nodded in understanding, clutching into his capture scarf. “If it’s a power quirk, chances are that my erasure won’t do much.”

Hawks waved a hand “don’t worry about it man, this is my city, I can do the heavy lifting.”

He didn’t get the older man’s response, too busy flapping away to avert the nomus attention.

“Over here, big ugly!”

It must understand English because it did look over, away from Aizawa.

“Now to find your weak spot…” he squinted his eyes, vision zeroing in and pupils dilating. His handler also did not like it when he did this, but he wore a visor so no one would see.

They couldn’t train him out of fighting instinct.

He experimentally sent a few red feathers, recalling the rest from the civilians, to swat an onslaught of them at the nomu.

It only seemed to be mildly bothered by the feathers, and….

It feigned to the right a little too recklessly when the feather aimed for its neck nearly hit.

The head…

Did Hawks seriously need to chop this things head off?

Realistically, he already knew they were inhuman creatures, but….

Better be safe than sorry.

“Hey eraser!” He called out to the man who had just used his capture weapon to clear the last of the people away. “You don’t think these things are living, do you?”

“They’re deceased people,” the man answered without looking up, “their bodies have been modified. Do what you must.”

Hawks was not a violent person.

He wouldn’t normally go straight for chopping the head off of any villain but… his head was pounding and his body was aching and he needed to get this over with quick.

Landing on a nearby rooftop, he sharpened a dozen feathers and sent them out in all angles, aimed directly for the neck.

The nomu let out an inhuman screech, spinning in a circle and creating a whirlwind strong enough to knock his feathers off balance.

Dammit.

“I’m going to need to get in close,” he gritted his teeth, “can you erase the strength momentarily while I go in?”

As an answer, The underground hero unraveled the scarf, lassoing it around the nomu. Before the monster could bat him away, he activated his quirk, holding it momentarily weak.

Hawks was just glad there were no civilians around to see when he drew one of his larger flight feathers, sharpening it and closing his wings around him to swoop into a dive.

“Thanks eraser!” He shouted into the wind. He felt alive like this. Predatory. Free.

The momentary distraction Aizawa created was enough for Hawks to dive bomb the nomu, slicing its head clean off with his sharpened flight feather.

The head fell to the ground with a deafening thud.

Almost as deafening as the buildings support caving in, directly next to hawks.

“Hawks!” Aizawa shouted, sounding less like a hero and more like a concerned authority. He looked to where the underground hero was pointing, all the way to the cowering child they must have missed in all the ruckus.

Wherever Dabi was watching at the moment, he could go fuck Himself.

Working on instinct, he knelt into a crouch and dove above the child before any debris could Hit Him, sacrificing his own aching body.

He couldn’t really remember much after that.

Aizawa didn’t know what to think of the number two pro hero. He was seemingly perfect, poised for the cameras, molded for the limelight. When fighting, there was an avian sheen in his eyes, like he was hunting down prey, a mice between his talons.

It was off putting, to say the least.

Aizawa had never seen any specifically animalistic traits to Hawks besides the obvious and the sheer aura he gave off when he swooped in to slice the Nomu’s head clean off, though sometimes his eyes would linger. Linger on the awkward gait in those too big boots or the gloves slightly too oversized for a normal hand.

Even so, he respected him, no matter how standoffish he seemed about his personal life. (A paradox to the ‘chill hero’ persona he gave to the camera everyday.) He had an unmatched save count and a diffusing mood to him.

Even if he was no doubt the commission's first project.

Aizawa was no idiot. He knew that realistically, a hero who was tied so close to the commission and with no otherwise ties to hero schools had to get their training from somewhere.

He was their pride and joy. Or so, he should have been.

But he was clearly exhausted.

Not exhausted enough to fail to dive in front of the child and block him from the debris form the falling building.

As soon as the dust settled, he dove to the area, clearing rubble away until he felt a familiar cargo jacket.

“Help!” He heard the whimpering child under the winged hero.

“I’m here, kid.” Aizawa said gruffly, grunting as he tugged and pulled on the jacket until Hawks finally rolled over onto his lap, body soot covered.

“Are you okay?” He asked the uninjured child as he poked his head out from the rubble, tears streaming down his ashen face. He looked to be about ten.

“Is-is he okay?” He asked, bottom lip wobbling.

Aizawa spared a glance down to the unmoving hero, but could feel the rise and fall of his back on his knees along with the unconscious twitching of red wings.

“He’s alive, can I give you a job?”

The boy stifled a sob, rubbing his nose with a dirty arm as he nodded.

“Run along down the street and don’t stop until you find people, if you see any medics, send them to the collapsed building.”

“I can- I can do that!” The Boy put on a brave face as he ran down the street like his life depended on it. That was one problem out of the way.

He looked down to Hawks, carding hands through golden hair until he felt the bump on the back of his head. “Hawks,” he attempted, lightly tapping his cheek. It wouldn’t be good to remain unconscious with a head injury. “Hawks.”

Summoned from unconsciousness, the man groaned and shifted slightly in his lap, but Aizawa held his shoulder down before he could attempt to sit up.

”Stay down,” he ordered, “you were out for more than a minute.”

”’M okay,” he slurred, cracking open half-lidded eyes.

“Right,” he said, somewhat sarcastically as he held up a finger, “follow this.”

The unfocused eyes dragged slowly.

“You failed.”

”Not a concussion… let me up.”

The wound above his eyebrow started to bleed over his eye. Another head wound.

Aizawa poked at it and the younger hero hissed, clumsily attempting to swat him away. He missed. “ Ge’ off.”

”You may need stitches for that one.”

”Go…way.”

”No.”

Just as Hawks was obviously about to throw a concussion hazed tantrum, there was the sound of distant voices approaching. The team of paramedics tediously dodged through the rubble, ambulance parked as close as possible before the destruction became too much.

The team of three all knelt down and Hawks tensed immensely on top of him, feathers puffing up in agitation.

“Take a step back,” Aizawa ordered plainly. Thankfully, the confused workers didn’t ask, scooting a respectable distance away and unloading their packs.

Hawks made a noise.

“Come again?” Aizawa tilted his head closer to better hear.

”No… hos’ital.”

”You… don’t want to go to the hospital?”

“Can’t…”

And there was a lot to unpack there. He wouldn’t ask about it though. Not here and not now. He looked back up to the paramedics, “I can take it from here.”

One of the women frowned, “but sir-“

”He’s not in life-threatening danger and I have the same medical training. Leave a medical kit here.” It wasn’t a question, it was an order, and thankfully Aizawa’s unpleasant demeanor always seemed to scare people away.

“You owe me,” he grumbled as he held gauze up to the head wound. Injuries over the eyes always bled excessively. He would worry about it when it became an actual problem. Just as he was about to slip his phone out to call Yamada for a ride and recovery girl for an emergency visit, a darker limo pulled up ahead of the retreating paramedics.

A woman stepped out, flanked by two other men.

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. The commission president, here to clean up her mess. Her heels clacked against the rubble, and the sound was enough for Hawks to involuntarily shudder in his hold, leaning closer to Aizawa.

“If you are here to drag him back to the commission, I suggest you get him looked at.” Aizawa stated once the woman stopped in front of them. “I’ll take him with me. He can be back on Duty once he’s recovered.”

“Rest assured,” the woman said, monotone. Not reassuring. “He will be very cared for by the commissions medical team, while I appreciate your effort to keep him safe, we will take him from here.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, staring the woman down though she was standing and he was crouched with an overgrown bird trembling in his arms. “On what grounds do you have to take him to the commission rather than the hospital? As a pro hero, if you take him, I can report you for kidnapping.”

The woman looked smug, as if there were no single loophole she had not thought of. “We are his emergency contact, and as you see, he is not in the clear headspace to make choices for himself, meaning we are next in kin to make his decisions.”

“Do you own him.” Aizawa’s question was more of a statement.

The woman’s expression did not change.

“No, we simply care for him very much. We like to be assured he is in the best care possible.”

Aizawa had never felt like a weaker man as he watched Hawks balanced precariously between the two larger men, arms over shoulders and feet dragging against the concrete haphazardly, lugged into the back of the limo.

“Man, that was boring! Can we watch a movie!” Toga complained, despite her face practically shoved against the TV screen.

“Yeah! Let’s watch a movie!” Twice agreed, “Hawk’s sucks and I wish the Nomu killed him!”

Dabi only blinked mildly, placing the bowl of popcorn back onto the concrete ground. He was getting tired of that shit anyway. “Well?” He asked, flicking an unpopped seed at their fearless leader where he was perched on the armchair.

“He will be useful to us.”

”What’re you talking about, he barely took the thing down,” Spinner complained from his place on the floor, reaching out for the popcorn bucket. Dabi let him slide it away.

“No, the fashion in which he did it,” Kurogiri announced from his place at the bar, all heads turning to him because the bartender rarely gave his own opinion. “Brutal accuracy. If I didn't know any better, I’d say he could make a beautiful assassin.”

“I don’t know if beautiful is the right word to use…”

At Spinner's comment, the rest of the voices of the league fell into the background like a stream as Dabi narrowed his eyes at the TV. Live helicopter footage of the wreckage created, a bird's eye view,

Wait a damn minute.

He reached for the remote, pausing it before rewinding fifteen seconds.

In the background, there he was. Bleeding and being lugged by two heavy and suited men when obviously the idiot needed medical help.

He kept it paused and stood from the couch, tossing the remote down for Toga to watch whatever stupid chick flick she wanted. “Let’s not send one of those bastards out again unless we have an actual agenda. We just wasted a nomu.”

Toga dove for the remote, unsettling eyes of hers blinking up at him as an excited blush spread across her face, “You care about the birdie! That’s why you don’t want us to attack again, right? I don’t blame you, I just wanna taste of that blood…”

Dabi put a hand on her head, shoving her face down into the couch cushion before he retreated outside. He needed a smoke.

“I’d just rather roast him myself.”

“Nedzu.”

”Aizawa, how rare of you to call me. Is there an issue.”

”I need to use UA’s information line. Give me all of the files you have on the HPSC, along with the number two hero Hawks.”

”I see. It’ll be faxed over shortly. Do keep your investigation under wraps for now, we wouldn’t want to stir any pots.”

”If the pot is already stirred, I may have no choice.”

”I see.”

Chapter Text

“I wanna see Hawksie again!” Toga complained, because she always got what she wanted, in the end. Being a sixteen year old girl living with a group of adult men made it easier for the crazy psycho to get them to bend to her will.

”Be quiet for once,” Dabi snarked, immediately dodging when she jumped over the back of the couch, knife up, to slit is throat. “Dammit! You crazy little-“

”Dabi,” Kurogiri warned from the bar as he wrestled Toga down to the floor, placing a knee on her back. She just giggled and squirmed like a little worm until she tapped his thigh twice in surrender.

Dabi got up off of her, dusting his hands off, ignoring Twice as he swooped in to dote over the overdramatic teenager.

“You almost got him Toga. Kill his ass next time!”

For once, Shigaraki stopped whatever it was that he was playing on his game boy. Dabi didn’t know, nor would he ever really care. “Villain class vampirism makes an interesting point.”

”Class? Like a video game?” Spinner asked, right as Toga shrieked in laughter.

“I think it is time for Hawks to shed his skin as an NPC.”

Dabi felt his eyebrow twitch, “NPC? Didn’t he just take down your Nomu-“

”Call the bird, class; Avian. It’s time we start using him.”

”Sir, if I may,” Compress chimed in from his place on the armchair, bunny earring the page of his book to set it down. He didn’t wear his mask around them, not anymore, and seeing his face was still somewhat unnerving to Dabi because he was the only one of them who could pass as a normal civilian.

Shigaraki narrowed his eyes, “what is it?”

”After the Nomu attack as of yesterday, the news reporter announced that Hawks would be taking hero work off for a week to recover from the battle.”

”Well,” their leader leaned back into the ripped couch cushion, stuffing falling from the right corner. “This isn’t hero work, now is it? Call him anyway.”

Apparently, a concussion wasn’t enough of an excuse to keep Hawks out of a rigorous training regimen. Apparently, it was the excuse the commission had been looking for to pull him from Kyushu’s streets for a week to ‘take care’ of his molting feathers.

“Strip.” His handler ordered once he was finally coherent enough to walk in a straight line. If his muddled brain had to guess, it wouldn’t be long now before the headache and sensitivity to lights finally ended.

He’d had many head injuries before.

Unfortunately, they made him slow with the input of orders because his handler had to repeat himself.

“Did you not hear me the first time? Strip.”

”Yes sir.”

The room was barren and white, somewhat like a medical office minus the caring doctors.

There in the middle sat a wooden chair, and once he was down to his commission issued undergarments, nothing on his torso to block the handler from his wings, he sat in it backwards, chest to the back of the chair. It felt cold and sterile against his chest when he straddled it, but decidedly deemed himself Lucky.

They never tied him down anymore after he stopped struggling. Where would he even go? Right back to the chair for them to Finish their job.

Instead, his talons dug trenches into the wooded chairs back when two helpers grabbed either one of his ugly, molting wings, stretching them out at an angle that burned uncomfortably against his spine.

“Bite down,” his handler ordered, “I don’t want to hear anything from you.”

They were gracious enough to gift him with a cloth. A gag. Tied around the back of his head, digging into the head wound he received. The stinging sensation was too grounding, especially when at times like these, he imagined himself in the sky. Disassociated anywhere but here.

They didn’t like it when he made ugly bird noises.

Those ugly ugly chortles and chirps and coos-

By the time his handler dealt with the larger feathers, fingers digging around the more brittle plumage and, without the use of any tools, simply yanking it out, he got to the more sensitive area, closer to his spine.

He felt the pinpricks of blood, trickling down his spine.

Heard the distant humming of the air conditioning and his own breath. Why was he breathing so hard? A deep, hurtful rumble in his chest that hopefully his handler couldn’t hear.

“Why must you burden us with taking care of you like this,” his handler hissed into the shell of his right ear as a gloved hand (he never touched Hawks with his bare hands. Always covered should he have to touch a freak like him) traced over the tip of his wing.

‘I’m sorry’ he would have said if he wasn’t gagged. ‘I’ll do better. I’ll be better.’

As unwelcome hands skirted down his wings, examining, he couldn’t help but conjure up the comparison to Toga’s own fingers. Small and thin and gentle and a little rough, but not harmful.

“Maybe we should clip your flight feathers while we’re at it, keep you to the ground for a little while. You’ve been bad lately. Too many mistakes.”

Hawks resisted the urge to lean backwards off of the chair as his wing was manhandled into a vicious twist.

He didn’t want to lose his flight feathers.

He could lose the molted, ugly, mismatched colored ones. But not his flight-

His mind disconnected from his body as his handler slowly plucked his right wing down to the bare necessities, whispering words into his ear that didn’t translate in his pain-addled mind.

He’s been bad.

This is his fault.

If only he had been good.

Those latex covered hands skimmed, tracing the plumage all the way to the base of the wing where it hurt the most. He scouted out an off-color brown one, twisting it once, twice, three times before yanking it up and down in a borderline erotic gesture, loosening the follicle before yanking some more.

Hawks could only put his head down into his arms, forcing the tears back. His entire body felt hot and overwhelmed.

It hurt. It hurt so much more than normal.

Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe it was the kindness he had felt from the league a few days ago. Maybe it was the rapid shifting weather, cold seeping between his feathers, but he was so much more sensitive than normal.

Instinctively, he arched out of the chair when a particularly large feather had been twisted and bent too much- still attached to his wing.

“Hawks,” his handler warned, though it was too late for him, his talons were already extending as he reached to stress grip the nearest doctor's arm.

He hadn’t done such a thing in years.

Almost immediately, he was kicked to the floor, chair clattering underneath him as a weight settled down on his chest. His handler. His wings screamed in pain from underneath him as the first hit came. Then the second. Then the third.

Hawks lost track until his handler produced a sharp tool, bracketing his head against the floor with one hand to his hair and aiming down with the other. The sharp end of the tool dug deep into the stitched up cut just above his eyebrow- the one he had received saving the child from the collapsing building.

‘Shiny’

was what his stupid bird brain thought before it succumbed to the pain of his stitches being viciously yanked and torn.

After another round of metal tipped boots aginst cracked ribs, he was in a daze as they pulled him back up to the chair, this time tying his torso down around the backside of it to keep him secure.

His wings cried and twitched at him, begging to be taken care of.

“All of your flight feathers will be gone. This is where disobedience leads you, Hawks.”

Hawks couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

At least he could get a nap in, even if it was involuntary and out of pain.

It wasn’t a slap to the face that woke Hawks up, nor the gut wrenching pain (though it was a close second.) It was his phone, consistently and annoyingly buzzing right next to his face.

He groaned to himself, letting it go to voicemail before it started to ring again.

Half-delirious, he groped for the phone before blindly hitting answer with a bloodied hand. “What.”

”What’s got your feathers in a ruffle?” a familiar, deep voice crackled over the phone.

“Don’t remind me,” Hawks groaned as he rolled over, sitting up. He had been dumped down right at his doorway. The wings on his back felt like bricks, pitifully small.

He would have bolted upwards at the sound of Dabi’s once, had it not been for the cracked ribs. “Is there something you want?”

”I texted you. You didn’t answer.”

Crap.

Hawks looked down to see previous notifications of ‘hot stuff’ demanding he fly over immediately. And a few other well wishes from other pro heroes on a speedy recovery.

“Come over now, we have important business to discuss.”

Hawks couldn’t help himself. He was in pain and running on short fumes. “Sure it’s not just a game night this time?”

There was shuffling over the other end, and Hawks could hear the ghost of a breath against the speaker. “Don’t get snappy with me, birdie. Care to try that again?”

Shit. Shit.

He messed up. He said something bad-

“Yes sir.” He blabbered, before the movement on the other side stopped completely,

Hawks went to cover his mouth with broken fingers. The fingers they had twisted and pried to keep him from stress gripping.

He couldn't do anything right.

“Never call me that again.” Dabi said, before promptly hanging up.

Any other time, Hawks would have been excited to be considered trustworthy enough for the league to involve him in their planning. He just wished he was aware enough to bask in the fact that he was close with the villains and not a complete failure.

Hawks was met with a low whistle as he entered the run down layer. Thankfully, this time it wasn’t raining so he opted to keep his coat on. Both to shield the fact that he had to slump over to aid his bruised ribs and ward away the biting chill.

“Where did you get those bruises from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Compress asked. Or at least, Hawks assumed it was compress. He didn’t have a mask on.

Toga let out a strangled cry the moment she laid eyes on him, dropping the brush she had been using to style twice’s hair. “Your wings! They’re so small!”

Yeah. He knew.

Hawks had been forced to walk instead of fly across town.

Sliding an easygoing smile on his face was harder than he had thought, considering any face movement tugged at the frayed stitches, “one of your Nomu got the one up on me. I’m lucky to see the light of day after that!”

Then there was Dabi, in all of his suspicious glory, staring Hawks down from his place at the bar. “That nomu didn’t do shit to your feathers.”

Before Dabi could further call him out on any other lies, Kurogiri bent below the bar and offered a medical kit. “Do you need assistance in cleaning your wound, Hawks? The stitches on your face seemed to have come undone.”

Oh.

Hawks tilted his head in confusion. “You want to… help?”

“Yes,” Kurogiri nodded, unphased by his confusion, “only if you are comfortable. If not, you may use the medical kit to your own desires.”

Hawks was plenty confused because the commission never offered him any help, either patching him up when he was unconscious or forcing him to do it on his own time. No hospitals allowed.

“Erm… I can fix them when I get home, no need to waste your resources!”

The group gave him an odd look, but didn’t push any further.

“At least sit down, you look like a walking bruise,” Dabi manhandled him down onto the couch. The same place where he sat last time.

“Do you find that attractive, hot stuff?”

“On anyone but you, bird.”

Dabi sat down next to him, close enough for their shoulders to touch but too far away for Hawk’s liking. His body was like a furnace and Hawks couldn’t help but instinctively shift closer as the rest of the league gathered into the room, some sitting and some standing.

He wondered if Dabi was still mad at him for calling him sir.

“So,” Hawks shifted uncomfortably under the entire leagues gazes. Barley hiding the wince when his mangled wings hit the back of the couch. “Why’d you decide to call me here?”

”Well you are a member, dipshit, are you not?” Dabi asked.

”Oh…. I guess so.” Hawks wasn’t used to being apart of something other than the commission. “What’s up?”

”We're struggling to decide our next move of play,” Kurogiri elaborated, “while we want an event that will prove our point of a flawed hero society, we do not wish to waste resources as we have been doing.”

”Too many characters wasted on NPC’s” Shigaraki agreed.

“You want… me to pick your next target?”

”Make it a good one. I don’t give a shit and I don’t trust you!”

Hawks ignored that last bit, painstakingly resting an elbow on his knee and propping his chin up on his fist. What was the right answer here? Obviously, he couldn’t have them attack any innocents, nor any top ranking heroes if he didn’t want to get himself too involved.

He breifley considered having them attack the commission to set the trap and apprehend them, but for some reason the thought of that send a sharp twist in is gut. He couldn’t do that to them.

He… still needed to gain more trust.

He… didn’t need anyone else to be treated like him.

“You need to make a statement on your cause, right?” He finally decided, “I feel like that’s getting lost, given that you keep on attacking teenagers rather than actual heroes.”

At the thinly veiled insult, Shigaraki immediately jumped form his chair like a moody boy who just lost his game, aiming a mangled hand out to decimate Hawk’s feathers and-

Before he could squirm away, Dabi held a grip on Shigaraki’s wrist, looking unimpressed at their leader. “Get your shit together. He has a point.”

Shigaraki stared at Hawks, and he brought his wings close to himself. They burned with the movement, but his flinch was lost among everyone else.

“He wont dust your wings, bird. He’s all talk and no action.” Dabi released his grip on the leader's wrist, and he simply started to scratch at the flaking skin on his neck.

“He does have a point, if I may,” Kurogiri interjected.

“Yeah, let him continue! Shut his bird trap up permanently!”

“What I was saying…” he had to think fast. Quick on his feet. He was trained for this. “Why not target more underground areas first? Unroot the corruption from the darkness and bring it to the light?”

At this, the group perked up. Compress played with marbles between nifty fingertips, “and where do you suggest we start with that?”

“There are illegal quirk fighting rings. Some in Kyushu, though I don’t deal with them because it’s more of a stealth job. A lot of times the people who fight are people who need to use their quirks, like mutants, or those deemed too dangerous by society.”

At that, spinner narrowed his eyes. He always kept a distance between himself and Hawks. Not that Hawks minded, his bird instincts told him to stay far away from the reptile. ”You want us to attack other villains? We aren’t heroes like you.”

“I know, but think about it. Majority of the fighters are people that the hero society have failed. Then there are the select few heroes who fight there too, for extra money.”

This caught their attention.

”How do you know this?” Kurogiri pushed,

Hawks would have shrugged if it wouldn’t send a jabbing pain down his entire body, so instead, he cocked his head slightly. “There’s a light and dark side to every society and if you want to exploit it, the dark is the best place to start. If you go straight to the light, like those hero students, then they will automatically deem you a villain.”

“Thank you for your input, this is very helpful.” Compress nodded in approval, and Hawks bit back the urge to preen at the compliment.

“I have contacts with an underground hero who can give me more information on the rings. You’ll just have to give me a week.”

Shigaraki nodded, albeit grudgingly, “You have proven yourself, avian. You have a week before we meet again.”

With that, the meeting dispersed. Spinner ran off too… wherever he went when Hawks was present, while the others remained.

“You should stay for a little while, Hawksie!” Toga begged from the other side of him, already flipping through the TV channels, “we can have another game night!”

As much as Hawks would genuinely enjoy that, he could feel his body shutting down on itself, begging for multiple things that he could not have. He gave an apologetic smile, “I think I’ve gotta go- meeting with the heroes on your Nomu and whatnot-“

”Before you leave, let me pet your wings! Pretty please!”

Before Hawks could deny her, she was already reaching, small hands tangling themselves into what little feathers he had left.

Hawks physically could not stop the pained chirp that left his mouth as white hot pain flashed over his entire body, convulsing and scrambling to get away from the hands.

Those hands were bad.

Bad.

He’s been bad.

He deserved this. He deserved to have all of his feathers plucked away, One by one.

“-awks. Hawks. Hawks? Are you with me?” The same, smokers voice asked, pulling him from his pained delusion. There were hands on him, but not hurting hands. No, there were warm and gentle, one on his chest and the other looped around his back to keep him supported.

When Hawks drifted back to awareness, he realized he had fallen over onto Dabi’s Lap to get away from Toga, and the teenager looked absolutely frightened, tears pooling in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to!” She blubbered as twice patted her hair, “I- I’m sorry Hawksie!”

Hawks let out a shaky exhale, only taking a moment to enjoy the hot and soothing Hands keeping him warm, calming him down and straightening out his sensitive feathers.

How was it that a villain’s touch was kinder than any other heroes he’d felt?

”I gotta- I gotta go.” He bit back nausea as he stumbled to his feet, Dabi grabbing his arm and straightening him to prevent him from falling when his knees buckled.

“You’re injured,” Kurogiri pointed out. Whoa. When did he get there? On the backside of the couch with Compress, the rest of the league watched as Hawks made a fool of himself.

“It’s- it’s okay, I can fix it when I get home.” He assured, escaping Dabi’s support once he was sure he could balance himself. “Toga- it’s okay,” he repeated, “You’re okay.”

He backed out of the crumbled bar they called home, and no one stopped him.

Toga sniffled, wiping her eyes on her uniform sleeve,

“His pretty feathers. They’re all gone.”

Chapter Text

‘Do you happen to know anything about the underground fighting rings in Kyushu?”

It was a text, short and to the point, but the underground hero answered within a single minute.

‘I’ll tell you more if you come over for dinner.’

Dinner?

Hawks guessed he could handle that, if it was for hero purposes. There was no way the commission would approve of it during his work time, but during the single slot of free time he had later in the week (three hours) he guessed he could twist it…

‘Friday, 7:00. Be here’
Shouta Aizawa has dropped a location.’

Well, it looked like he had no choice now.

Hawks has been added to the group chat ‘league of villains.’

Toga: Yayyyyy! He’s here!

Twice: welcome! Fuck off and die.

Hawks: oh… what’s this now?

Kurogiri: It is a group chat for us to keep contact with each other should an unsavory situation occur.

Dabi: ‘unsavory situation’ Tf? People just post here.

Hawks: ah, I’ve made the group chat.

Spinner: oh.

Hawks: tf you mean ‘oh.’ ???

Spinner: just oh.

After a long few days of grueling patrols, back and forth text messages with Dabi (he had been added to the league group chat, after he turned in Jeanist’s body.) Friday came.

He got clearance from the commission to do with his free time as he wanted- as long as it wasn’t illegal. They kept a tracker in his skin and he knew as much, though he couldn’t just dig it out. He belonged to them.

Though that didn’t change the fact that he was still visiting somewhere that they didn’t want him.

Well, it was for work.

He assured himself as he landed down on the front doorstep of the quaint two story house. It was yellow, Hawks noted, with wind chimes and a cute little mailbox.

The complete opposite of what he expected from the underground hero.

Before he could even lift a hand to knock on the door, it swung open, creating a whirlwind that shifted his hair slightly.

It wasn’t Aizawa who answered the door, but rather, a man with stark blonde hair wrapped in a bun and glasses perched upon his nose. Hawks almost didn’t recognize present mic not in his hero uniform.

Before he could open his mouth to ask just why he was here, the man grabbed his arm and pulled him inside the house. “Come in come in!”

Inside of the house had the same vibe as the outside, just as he suspected. Warm lighting that wasn’t harsh like the commissions and didn’t make Hawk’s eyes hurt. Dark oak wood floors with a plush rug. Hawks would contemplate sleeping on that rug then and there if the couch right next to it didn’t look so comforting.

The only thing that stopped him from resting his sore and tired body on the couch was present mic, hand still on his arm and burning into it with its intensity, leading him to the kitchen.

“We don’t manhandle our guest,” a monotone voice said from the dark granite countertop. It only took Hawks a few moments to zero in on…

Aizawa with a pink apron on, slicing through vegetables like it was a normal occurrence.

Or, maybe it was a normal occurrence and Hawks was the weird one.

“Sorry,” present mic immediately let him go, and the lack of contact was a relief despite the fact that Hawks still chased it slightly.

“Erm… that’s okay…”

Hawks trailed off, and the man immediately straightened up. “Oh! I’m off duty so you can call me Yamada! What should we call you?”

Hawks stiffened, and cursed himself when Aizawa’s sharp eyes caught the movement, even if he was cutting vegetables with a frilly apron, he still looked intimidating.

“Um, Just Hawks is Fine.”

“Oh?” The blonde man in front of him looked slightly crestfallen, like he had killed his puppy.

“It’s nothing personal,” Hawks scrambled, “just- it’s what I go by.”

Yamada brightened up, but still looked confused.

The silence was only awkward for a moment before Aizawa dumped the vegetables into the boiling water. “The food should be ready in about ten minutes. Make yourself at home until then.”

Not knowing what else to do, he awkwardly sat down on the couch and thought.

How contradictory this life was to the one of a heroes.

Before he could linger too far, there was a small “meow.” A shiver ran up his spine when he made eye contact with animals, particularly predatory ones.

Realistically, a bird should be over a cat in the hierarchy of the animal kingdom, but not when this cat was currently looking at him like that.

“Princess,” Aizawa’s ordered, leaning over the back of the couch to bat the black cat away with a paper towel roll. “Sorry,” he apologized, not sounding very sorry, “she likes to intimidate our guest. Are you scared of cats?”

It was a genuine question, not a judgmental one.

“No,” he lied, “animals are just off putting.”

They made him feel like a freak, like those bird traits of his-

“Foods ready,” The man derailed his quickly spiraling train of thought.

Wordlessly, Hawks followed the man as if he was tied by the collar, all the way to the dining room table set for… four people.

”Eri!” Present mic- Yamada- suddenly called, effectively causing his feathers to ruffle at the sudden noise. Aizawa’s glared at his- was he his… partner?- but the man didn’t seem to notice as he continued putting on a racket until the small little pitter patter of footsteps could be heard.

Hawks didn’t know what he had expected, but certainly not a small white haired little girl with the largest smile he had ever seen. She stopped at the bottom of the wooded stairs when she saw Hawks, her big red eyes going wide with wonder when she spotted his wings.

It was common in children.

If only the commission thought the same way about his wings. Maybe then they wouldn’t be torn off every other month.

”Hello,” Hawks waved awkwardly. He as never usually so emotionally stunted around fans. Bottom line, it had been trained into him. But here, in the stagnant atmosphere of the homey room, he couldn’t help but not know what to do with his hands.

”Are you… Hawks?” The little girl asked as she approached, “I see you on TV sometimes. Do you work with my dads?”

Dads?

Hold up- Dads?

Present Mic and Eraser were together. And they had a daughter.

If the commission found out-

Aizawa cleared his throat somewhat threateningly and Hawks blatantly realized he had ignored the question. “Yes,” he scrambled, leaning down in a crouch to be eye level with the girl. “I see them sometimes and they were nice enough to invite me to dinner.”

He reached a gloved hand out for the girl to take, and she gently put her hand in his own.

“I’m Eri.”

”Nice to meet you Eri, you can call me Hawks.”

Carmine eyes roved over him in a concerned manner. “Are you hurt, Mr. Hawks?”

He stiffened in suprise, hand freezing in front of him while the girl retracted her own. “I don’t think so, do I look it?”

”Mmmm, no, but your eyes do.”

His eyes?

He glanced at the horn in her hair and before he could ask just what type of quirk she had, the two of them were bring ushered away to sit at the table, Eri next to Hawks because apparently she liked to look at his pretty wings.

The back of the chair was stiff and wooden against his wings, but he managed by folding them flat against his back, straightening his posture to avoid hurting the already sensitive feathers.

Hawks didn’t know what exactly the meal in front of him was, but the aroma of it made his mouth water. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been granted to eat something other than his ready made meals.

“What are you doing.” Aizawa raised a brow, and Hawk’s stiffened. “You obviously don’t fit into the chair. Next time this happens, ask for a new one.”

Before Hawks could retaliate, a stool the approximate height of the chair was replaced with the chair under him by Yamada and he was suddenly…. A lot more comfortable.

Aizawa watched. Almost as if this had been planned.

Even so, no one had bothered to assure his comfort. Maybe the league, a couple of times.

Speaking of.

“So, these underground rings-“

Eraserhead reached across the table to whack his hand. “No hero talk at the dinner table.”

The blonde next to him looked at him apologetically, “a small rule we have.”

The silverware clinked around him almost painstakingly as the family around him began to eat.

Him picking at his food, unfortunately, was very noticed. “Is there a problem with the food? Sorry we didn’t check for any dietary restrictions-“

“No no,” Hawks waved a still gloved hand. (He didn’t kick his shoes off at the door either, much to the men’s dismay. Wearing shoes was better than the alternative.) “I’m sure it’s fine, I’m just not too hungry.”

As if to betray him, his stomach growled.

He winced.

Present mic looked at him, up and down, nervously. “Well, eat as much as you can, okay?”

“…right.”

And he really wanted to.

A small part inside of him shrilled and chirped and forced him to reach out to the fork, the brain part of him told him that he would be punished severely.

The instinctual part of him won out.

The flavors burst on his tongue and he inhaled the rest, not even knowing when Yamada took his plate to serve him seconds.

He was so hungry that he couldn’t feel embarrassed at the fact that he had just pigged out in front of two of his co-workers.

“Mr. Hawks?” Eri asked, nearly making him choke on his food. He lifted his face from the plate to give the little girl his full and undivided attention.

“Where did you get those?” She asked, little finger pointing to the stitched cut on his face along with the plethora of bruises.

He looked to Aizawa, as if asking permission to discuss such a topic, but the man nodded anyway.

He pulled a reassuring smile, “oh, this thing? It’s just a little hurt, but nothing that some first aid can’t fix!”

A beat of silence.

“Did a villain do that?”

“We’ll… some people have different morals than you and me, depending on their own situation, see? Sometimes we have a little dispute over that, and it can get a little heated.”

“I don’t recall some of those other injuries,” Eraserhead pointed out, calling Hawks out in front of his entire family.

Hawks shrugged, the movement pulling at his growing feathers. “They come with the job, you would know.”

Before the two of them could have a stare down, Eri reached for Hawk’s face to pull him down to her level. “Can I help you heal it? I know the secret to healing.”

“Oh? What is that now?”

The little girl grabbed either side of his face with tiny hands and kissed him directly where the injury was. Gentle hands, much more than anyone else had given him when breaking him and taping him back together.

A smile grew on his face, “wow, it feels better already. Thanks!”

She just smiled up at him.

By the end of the meal, Yamada had gone with Eri to help her get ready for bed while Aizawa passed him a vanilla folder. “Didn’t take you for the underground heroing type.”

“I’m not, just something I’m looking into.”

Black eyes stared into the side of his head, “you can come to me with anything you may need.”

Hawks resisted the urge to reel back at the shifted atmosphere. The air felt dangerous, something the commission would not approve of. They would tell him to get out and cut his losses while he could.

Instead, he remained firmly planted in the cozy house with the nice and warm fireplace cracking to his right.

Without any prompting, the man slid a piece of paper into the hand that wasn’t stress gripping the folder. As if they were being watched.

“On this paper is my emergency cell line, along with UA’s. Call if you need anything.” Eyes finally slid away from him, as if trying to get him to understand some underlying message. If he was, then Hawk’s wasn’t getting it.

“Yeah… sure thing boss.”

As soon as Hawks got home, his knees hit the floor harshly with a crack and he leaned over the toilet.

Eating a family dinner with people who acted like they genuinely cared for him was nice.

Having a game night with a group of well known villains, some borderline psychotic, was nice.

He would be skinned alive if he ever vocalized as much, so instead he shoved a gloved finger down his throat and gagged on it.

He has grown soft.

And that was how league of villains member Dabi found him in his own restroom, on his knees with two fingers shoved down his throat.

He only sighed, sinking down next to him, not that Hawks could focus much on the movements with the hot flashes wracking down his body.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this bird brain.”

For some reason, long fingers carded through his hair and held it back from his face in an almost predatory way, gripping just tight enough to mildly sting.

Hawk’s bones were tired

It didn’t help that he was probably hallucinating.

After the entirety of the homemade meal had made its way into the toilet, Hawks slumped down, sapped of energy, placing his cheek against the toilet lid.

He couldn’t get up if he tried.

Those warm hands left him and retreated back to where he couldn’t follow.

Footsteps receded, the faucet running, and soon enough a cool rag was placed on the back of his sweaty neck.

Oh. That was nice.

He shifted to look up, the rag falling from its perch on his neck.

“You sick?” The gruff voice asked. Hawks should have been intimidated, but he could only push himself further to the cool surface of the toilet. Gross.

“Jus’ Ate somethin’ unpleasant earlier. You know how it is.”

“So… you’re forcing yourself to throw it up?”

“Yeah, basically.”

The villain sighed and crouched lower, slightly brushing against his right wing as he plucked the fallen rag. Hawks didn’t struggle against him when those hands grabbed his chin and lifted his heavy head up, angling it so that he could use the rag to wipe the remaining vomit from his face.

Hawks held still.

So still.

Bone still.

The times his handler grabbed him like this, they never liked it when he talked. Yet… they never wiped his mouth off for him, and their grip on his jawline was always bruising.

This was worlds different.

Hawks was confused.

So confused that he couldn’t hold in the questioning chirp that rumbled in his chest.

Before he could make a move to silence himself, Dabi gently placed his head back down on the seat. “Don’t overthink it. You’ve proven yourself to the league, we need you Alive now.”

Hawks severely doubted that “keeping him alive” counted as wiping his face off of his own bodily fluid, but he wouldn’t call him out on it.

Hawks could only watch, eyes half lidded, as the villain tossed the rag into the nearby hamper.

“Why'd you come over here?”

“To crash. The league gets loud as hell.”

Hawks groaned, putting a hand up to pinch his nose. “Go ahead and take the couch.”

Dabi didn’t give him a thanks as he left the room, not that hawks was expecting one.

Once again, Hawks fell asleep on the metallic floor of his sad empty apartment, and once again, he woke up with a blanket strewn over him and a pillow under his head.

No villain in sight.

Chapter Text

“Hey Dabi, do you think Hawks likes when we pet his wings?”

“We’ll I know he doesn't like it when you pet his wings.”

“Hey, don’t be mean! I heard he once lifted a truck.”

“What the fuck? Why would he lift a truck? How could he lift a truck?”

“I dunno Dabs, I think a villain made him mad or something.”

“My brother in Christ he is the size of my pinky finger there is no way he lifted a truck.”

“Then explain the dent on your tailgate, Dabi. Hide your kids, hide your wives.”

“… where is the birdbrain right now anyway, don’t we have a meeting?”

“Your moms house.”

It only took a single month for the cold weather to fully sink into Kyushu, and subsequently, Hawks.

He was never good with the colder weather, the bird in him wanted to fly far away where it was warmer, though he would never be able to entertain such a thing with the Leash the commission had on him.

Only a month has passed since his molting, and since then, his workload had only increased by double. His meetings with the villains had become more frequent with their grand plan to attack the fighting rings and we’ll, hawks figured he had killed two birds with one stone in having them attack the organization. Less work for him to do during the daytime.

(Work was still work.)

Hawks also received more work this time of year because, to put it frankly, the heroes always got bitchier around Christmas time. Apparently the commission received a lot of complaints from ‘pesky’ low rankers and high rankers alike, apparently trying to sue.

What they could possibly be trying to sue the hero commission, the backbone of heroes in Japan, for? Hawks was kept well out of the loop, so he figured he would never know.

Hawks’ breath puffed around his head like a halo, crystallizing in the air. He was currently on hour fourty eight of not sleeping and it was very apparently catching up to him. His eyes felt heavy inside of his skull.

He was tasked to team up with number one hero Endeavour, apparently to boost rankings. Ever since he ran into a window, his rankings skyrocketed but not in the ‘good light’ as the commission would have wished it to be.

But to Hawks, attention was attention and would thus boost him in the charts no matter what.

It was cold outside, and he could feel Torper setting in. A stupid bird train he had been trained out of, but could always feel bubbling under his skin when he was cold.

“Are you paying attention,” the number ones voice disrupted him from his sleep. Startled, he realized his head had been slowly drifting down to his chest. Oh.

”Of course I am!”

”What did I just say?”

”Uhhh… That I’m your favorite hero to stake out with and there’s never a dull moment with me around?”

The mans lips tilted downwards, his flaming mustache twitching. Hawks wondered if his fingers would burn if he touched it…

”What are you doing.” Endeavour stated, less of a question, and grabbed Hawk’s wrist before he could touch his face.

“Oh, my bad. Intrusive thoughts!”

Hawks chuckled sheepishly as the man tossed his arm to the side. It hurt, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“I’m bored,” he whined as he shifted out of his crouch position, butt against the pavement. The rooftop was cold and there was nothing besides the flaming man beside him to keep his mind occupied from drifting.

“Just shut up and keep an eye for the info drop,” the man gruffed, relinquishing his fire completely. Hawks understood why he did it, the torchlight he emitted created a warm glow in the night sky ever since the sun set an hour ago.

They had been waiting for four hours now.

Hawks grumbled to himself as he rested his face on his knuckles, counting the twinkling stars in the sky. The pollution of the city, of course, covered it up, but they were still evident enough for him to wish he could fly up there and embrace them.

The sky..

The horizon of the city…

The dull chatter down below…

”Hawks,” the same deep voice startled from his slumber, and with a jolt, he realized he had fallen onto the mans shoulder. Uncomfortable and stiff and hard as rock.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, immediately shifting away from the man before-

Before-

He was tugged back with the iron grip he had on the others arm, hands not big enough to wrap fully around.

Shit.

The talons underneath his glove, even though trimmed, flexed and nearly tore the fabric.

“This some joke?” Endevour hissed under his breath, almost dangerously as he tried to yank his arm away, only to pull Hawks with him.

“I’ll let go in a few- in a few seconds,” he tried to explain as he was dragged around like a rag doll, body swinging over his lap. “It’s just a part of my quirk, it should unlatch soon.”

“So it is a joke then. Get off now.”

It was the deepest part of Hawk’s quirk that he despised. Shame pooled in his gut when he felt those ugly talons digging and digging and digging, strong but not thick enough to break flesh as they should be.

Hawks nearly whined in frustration as he, with the joint effort of Endeavour, tried to pull away.

“This is only making it worse,” Hawks said through gritted teeth, face red with embarrassment. The number one hero didn’t seem to care though, as he tugged once more before his other hand moved to dig underneath his grip to pry fingers away.

He was going to break them.

Just like the commission did.

Even though he was used to the harsh treatment, the small human part of him cried inside at the thought of setting all broken fingers back.

“Don’t do it.” It wasn’t a beg, but close.

“The men are here, if you haven’t noticed.” Endeavour nodded his head down to the city below where a limousine pulled up to the curb. With fear pooling in his gut, Hawks realized he was right.

He sucked in a breath through his nose.

Then out his mouth.

And solidified himself.

”Break them.”

Instead of nodding and squeezing tighter. Instead of twisting and yanking until bones cracked underneath his grip, talons still flexing in despair, the number one hero simply gave him a blank look.

“You are asking me to break your fingers?”

Hawks opened his eyes. He didn’t realize that they had been closed in the first place.

“Uh… yeah? If you want me detached quick, man, sometimes it's the only way to get me to let go.”

Hawks was too tired to fight anymore.

His body hung too heavy for him to even pull away when his childhood hero wrapped a hand around his wrist, then flung Hawks onto his back to where his hand could still reach their grip spot.

”What… are you doing?”

Endeavor grunted as he stood up and Hawks placed his boots onto his back to keep balance.

He nearly squaked.

Nearly.

“We have a case to deal with,” was all the man said before he lit his fire and… wow… it didn’t burn.

By the end of the night, the meeting had been crashed and a few thugs had been taken in for questioning.

Hawks eventually let go sometime after, his fingers flexing and talons retracting.

“If you are feeling too unwell to do your job, you should not come to work.” Endeavor grunted, the police lights around them flashing hues of reds and blues across his face. Hawks had too look up to meet his eyes.

He felt like a child being scolded but…

It was better than his fingers being broken one by one.

Being slashed and kicked and pummeled.

“It’s a part of my quirk.”

”Falling asleep during a mission? Stress gripping? You should get it under control.”

This time Hawks really did look down like a kicked child. “I’m so-“

”Don’t apologize,” he chided, and only the commission president could make him feel so small. (Minus the nausea and the fear that accompanied that feeling.) ”Just do better. Schedule shifts that aren’t fourty eight hours long, I’m sure Kyushu could stand without their pigeon in the skies.”

And Hawks wished he could shorten his patrols. He wished he didn’t have cameras monitoring his every move. He wished he could control his own bank accounts. He really did.

”You are dismissed. Go home, Hawks.”

It felt like both a failure and a success at the same time.

On the way back, wings flapping heavily and unorganized, he spotted a shadow running alongside him. Eraserhead.

12:39 (PM)

Toga: Gamepidgon (crazy 8)

Twice has joined

Shigaraki has joined

Compress has joined

Kurogiri has joined

Spinner has joined

Dabi has joined

Hawks has joined

1:02 (AM)

Hawks has won game

Dabi: oh fuck y’all, three plus fours in a row is crazy

Toga; your moms crazy.

“So yeah, that’s how I fell asleep on the number one hero. Really cool, right?”

The room was all dead silent to the point where a pin drop could be heard. The league all stared at him with a mixture of different emotions on their faces.

Hawks had flown to the league base not long after his team up with Endeavour, stopping only to chug a coffee mixed with energy drink on his way. Their meeting had been short and sweet, Hawks delivering coordinates and trying not to fall asleep while Shigaraki poured over the information.

The league’s rundown bar didn’t have a heater.

He could still see his breath.

He tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly. “Was that not a funny story?”

”Uhh,” Compress didn’t look too impressed, the card tower he had been building toppling down to the floor. He stared down at it sadly before continuing his thought. “Are you sure you are okay to fly home?”

Hawks reeled back into the couch, not expecting the genuine question. He had texted and flown. He had flown with broken bones. Flying a little tired wouldn’t hurt him. Too bad.

“What? Pshhh, yeah, I have a few energy drinks in my system.” Hawks wondered what would happen if he added a shot of vodka to that too. Not that he was allowed to consume alcohol.

Hawks had been swooping by the villains hideout lately so much that he had his own blanket. It was soft and rather threadbare, but it was his.

He clutched it closer to his chest as Spinner looked up from his video game system, eyes blinking like a frog. “Birds hate the cold too. They migrate and shit.”

Hawks shook his head. “That’s not true, he’s delusional, don’t believe a single thing he says.”

Instead of replying, Spinner snored.

”Dabi,” Shigaraki whined, shoving Spinner with his foot in an attempt to wake up his video game partner. “He’s going under.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Dabi barked as he shot a puff of sapphire fire above the reptiles head. The warmth emitted from his body and Hawks scooted a little closer on the couch.

Dabi pretended not to notice.

Spinner adding more smart ass facts about birds and birds being tired in the colder weather was what led to blankets getting thrown at him whenever he dipped by. Blankets all smelling like their owners. A small part of him, a warmth inside of his chest, was happy that he managed to nestle himself into such a position.

The other, larger part, knew that eventually he would leave them, and even destroy their little family. He didn’t even know if he had that power in him, even if it was an inevitable possibility.

“You’re overworked,” Dabi said flatly once the attention was away from them and onto the video game on the screen. Hawks had elected not to play this round and instead watched the bright fuzzy light pass by.

He rolled his shoulders, “I’m just a little tired, hot stuff. I’m sure you’d be after a little patrol too.”

Dabi shifted to tap his chest, and with his upright position, not wanting to crush his wings on the back of the couch, he fell over. Dabi, like some kind of future seeing God, grabbed him by the arm before he could topple over onto Toga.

”Go the hell to sleep before I knock you out.”

Four months ago, Hawks would have taken it as a genuine threat, but he knew how Dabi hid his worry. Something that also four months ago Hawks didn’t know villains were capable of.

“You want me to sleep?” His eyes roved over the room, “here?”

”Yeah, where else?”

Hawks scrambled for an excuse, “what about the rest of the meeting?”

”Screw the meeting, it’s been over for a while now. Shigaraki just lied to keep you here longer.”

Despite being in a layer full of deadly villains, most of whom were murderers, Hawk’s eyes dragged downwards against his will, his wings flopping down bonelessly.

He had never slept so well in his life.

“Move over,” Dabi pushed a socked foot onto Toga’s shoulder, forcing her away from the couch as she squealed in abject terror.

“You have a hole in your sock!”

“Yeah, too chase you away. Now keep your voice down.”

It was then that those unsettling eyes of hers looked down and recognized that Hawks has slumped backwards onto the couch, neck barred for all of them.

Fangs poked past her lips and Dabi gave her the stank eye.

”Don’t even think about sucking his blood, crazy.”

She hissed like the crazy she-demon she was and Dabi watched her retreat to bother Shigaraki and spinner. Good.

He pushed Hawk’s down with the heel of his foot until the man's head rested against the armrest, mouth slightly open and already drooling.

Dabi snorted. He must have been damn tired to look so shit faced just moments after falling asleep.

He wasn’t a fool. None of them were fools. The concealer didn’t do much about those eyebags.

“Here,” Kurogiri materialized from behind the couch, offering a stack of blankets. If anyone was the most observant, it was him. “He’s cold, is he not?”

Yeah, Hawks was shivering under those red wings of his. Like a bird on a telephone wire in a snowstorm.

They worked to drape the blankets over him, and it honestly felt like a habit to Dabi at this point. One he would rather break.

Hawks settled into the warmth, shifting into it, right as his phone rang. They all winced, waiting for it to wake the hero up, but he was dead asleep.

”Who is it, who is it?” Toga whisper chanted as Dabi plucked the phone from the discarded jacket on the floor. Even Shigaraki had paused his video game when he noticed the wince on Dabi’s face, pulling at his staples.

”It’s the same girl who was calling ‘em earlier. Aoi… whatever her name is.”

”OOOh, a secret lover? Answer it!” She squealed. Hawks let out a small noise and shifted, and Spinner slapped a hand over her mouth to shut her up.

Despite the glare he sent her, Dabi answered the phone and put it on speaker.

It was silent for a moment, before the voice of a much older woman answered. “Hawks- report.”

Oh, this certainly was not a secret girlfriend.

They all shared a glance before Dabi cleared his throat. “Reporting…”

Another beat of silence before the woman sighed. “What have we taught you, Hawks? You know the correct way to respond to a higher up. Yes ma’am?” She asked, as if expecting Dabi to reply. Instead, he remained silent.

She tisked, as if talking to a grade schooler. “You are to report back to the commission immediately. President floor. We have received a report of concern from your fellow hero, Endeavor, questioning your patrol routine and asking us to adjust it. We heard they you fell asleep on the job, is this true?”

Dabi bit his tongue to not cuss, and the fire from his hands almost reduced the phone to a pile of ash.

“Well, whether this is true or not, you are to report for punishment and reevaluation.”

Dabi should not have been the one holding the phone, because he cursed and threw the thing to the ash stained floor. The line beeped as the phone clattered in a deafening sound.

Only Hawk’s sleepy noises in the background.

Dabi knew that realistically the hero society was fucked up. He knew that realistically it all stemmed from somewhere. He just didn’t realize that it stemmed from such a deep root. That the corruption was targeting Hawks and punishing him for doing his job.

“I need a smoke,” he growled, standing on the couch. The loss of his weight shifted Hawks down more.

And he couldn’t even enjoy a moment of peace for himself, because as soon as he lit the end of the cigarette with a blue flame, watching the smoke waft into the dark sky, a keening cry came from inside the hideout, sounding almost inhumane.

“God fucking-“ he stomped the lit bud out and stormed into the cold building to see Hawks scrambling backwards against the wall, Toga with an arm reaching out, pouting.

Hawk’s chest heaved underneath his flight suit.

“You- you did what?” His face looked paler than Dabi had ever seen it.

“That mean lady called you,” Toga answered, as if not understanding the sensitive topic. “So we smashed your phone so that she could never call you again!”

”No no no,” Hawks scampered over to the remains of his phone. It was a sad sight to see him try to put it together.

”I didn’t think buying a new phone would put a dent in that hero salary of yours,” Spinner grunted from the corner, not pausing his game, and that seemed to be the thing that broke him because Hawks shot Spinner the Deadliest look that he had possibly ever seen.

Dark marks around his eyes narrowed, dull gold looking absolutely venomous in the low lighting.

Dabi couldn’t help the cold yet exhilarated shiver that ran down his side.

Hawks looked downright predatory.

Dabi would have been gleeful if those eyes hadn’t met his.

“Out of all of these people,” he hissed, low voice seeming to drain the oxygen from the room. “I expected you to have the decency to privacy. To let me fit in without poking and prodding me like you own me.”

And obviously, this hatred was coming from somewhere else, but it was causing Toga to sob and Shigaraki’s fingers to twitch.

“We’re villains,” Dabi said, matter of factly.

Before he could even move, those beautiful carnivorous eyes locked onto him like a laser beam and Hawks was directly in front of him, looking hateful and hurt.

“This,” he held the phone up, voice cracking, “Isn’t something a family does.”

Family?

the staples at Dabi’s jaw tugged.

He was almost regretful, but didn’t have time to think with those wings of his rippling with unease and the sweat beading along his face, like he was running on pure exhaustion.

”Bird, this is your defense mechanism.” Dabi slowly reached an arm out, cupping it around the back of Hawk’s neck. “You need to chill the hell out. Now.”

Almost immediately, as if on instinct, Hawk’s eyes grew dull and he fell to his knees, face to the floor.

Finally, the video games paused once again and Toga sobbed harder into Kurogiri, almost howling.

“…Hawks?” Dabi asked, receiving no response besides from the full body shivering of the other. He was looking down to the ground, so Dabi weaved his fingers through his hair to force his head upwards. A little harsher than necessary.

“Bird?” He asked, looking into dull eyes. Were they watering? “Are you in there?”

A noise escaped his throat, something between a keen and a chirp, and Dabi immediately backed away. “It’s a panic response.” He said bitterly.

“This commission is quite… intricate,” Shigaraki spoke, scratching at peeling skin as if Hawks wasn’t currently curled into a ball on their floor, wings protectively hovering over him.

”Hawks,” he tried again, stepping down to a crouch. “You’re with the league right now. No one here would ever… do that to you.”

That referring to some unseen punishment that none of them knew the details of.

It made him sick to his stomach.

Slowly, Hawks poked his head out from his ball of feathers, looking around in such a confused way that it squeezed Dabi’s chest.

“The league,” Hawks repeated, eyes slowly shifting back to focus.

“You back with us?”

And apparently, it was the wrong question to ask because Hawks shot back to his feet, swaying and looking like an animal backed into a corner. Feral.

A gloved hand clapped to his mouth and he looked absolutely sick. Like he had been when Dabi found him throwing up in his restroom a month back. “I- I need to go.”

Toga held a hand out, tears tracking down her face, “wait! Hawksie! Don’t go back there. They aren’t nice to you.”

A man on a mission, Hawks flapped his wings out, never giving the league his back as he stumbled to the nearest window. “I need to go now.”

Something restricted Dabi’s throat, suffocating him like smoke, and his voice failed to function before the man was already out the window.

Chapter Text

Hawks was in shit.

He was in really deep shit.

He should have never let his guard down so much. To trust that the league was something of a family because he still had a mission to uphold and he was going to betray them anyways dammit.

Nevertheless, the beating in his chest, like his tiny little heart was shaking around in its cage, set him on edge. His instincts were screaming at him to turn back around. To fly back to his flock and let them keep him safe.

Even though they were the last thing he should be considering safe.

The commission was safe.

The commission and it’s predictable white walls and sterile rooms. The commission never strayed from their ideals. They never confused Hawks. When they cupped the back of his neck, he was paralyzed for a beating.

They didn’t… they didn’t calm him down. They never offered comfort.

They were steady and repetitive and that was what Hawks needed in his life.

What they told him he needed.

So when he landed on the landing pad of the president's office window, his wings fluffed because he was doing the right thing. He was following orders.

“Hawks.”

His handler was already waiting for him directly to the right of the window. The president sat in her chair. While he had run through many handlers, she always remained the same, though with such time and Hawks growth, it was getting hard for her to hide her wrinkles with the makeup compacted on top of her face.

Her perfume smelled. It made Hawk’s nose twitch and burn.

“Welcome back. There will be repercussions to your actions and your failure to proceed with your nightly check in’s. As well as those pesky traits of yours. We have video footage of the events that have taken place with endeavor, as well as a report from the man himself of what has transpired.”

The pin held between her sharp fingertips, almost as long as his own, tapped inconspicuously as she shifted.

It was a sign. A signal for his handler to stoop in behind him and place that hand on the back of his neck. The hand that was harsh and firm and so unlike Dabi’s.

He sunk to his knees, unable to move. His mouth, reduced to pins and needles, hung open slightly.

“Yes ma’am.” He heard himself say. Monotone and blank.

“We have decided to assist you in dealing with these bird qualities because you have not been able to train out of them yourself. Understand?”

Fear wrapped around Hawk’s neck like a noose, tightening itself until it was digging itself into skin.

The talons underneath his gloves and his boots flexed and flexed.

“The operation we have planned will be your recalibration, and the training after will be your reconditioning.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The noose was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe.

The next few hours went by in flashes of pain. Unbearable pain that he should have expected, should have been accustomed to, but still couldn’t help but plead and beg on the inside for it to stop. 

No matter how much of a hero he was, the commission couldn’t completely pull away his pain receptors.

His handler dragged his limo body upwards as more men entered the room, pushing and shoving him out into the hallways. 

As they passed the office section of the building, workers shot glances and quickly looked away, as if they hadn’t seen the number two hero getting dragged down the hallway painfully like a rag doll.

This was always a part of his training. The humiliation. 

Shoved in the typical blank room, a metal table in the center, was different. 

Where was the wooden chair? 

Where was-

The men’s hands were all over him and he couldn’t help but stand stock still as he was undressed, a hospital gown shoved onto him. 

This was different.

This was new.

Hawks coughed back his panic. 

There was nothing new that the commission could have ever introduced to him after his teenage years. No new torture. Yet, here he was, being pushed back down onto the metal table, restraints locking his wrists and ankles down.

The handler's hand left his neck, a look of disgust as he grabbed the nearest sanitization station out the door, washing the hand that Hawks had dirtied. 

“Wha-“ Hawk’s bottom lip wobbled no matter how hard he tried to stop it. The fluorescent light above him was painful on his eyes. 

“Take ‘em off,” one of the men- who he blatantly realized was a doctor- ordered as hands worked to take the boots from his feet.

They never took his boots off.

No one wanted to look at his talons.

No one wanted to-

His eyes glanced to the medical tools placed to the right of his head. The bone saw. 

Nausea suddenly hit him like a freight train, washing over him in waves. He was half afraid he was going to choke on his own vomit, not able to turn to the side, but before he could do just that, a fist met his face like an unforgiving kiss.

And another one.

And more until his eyes were swollen shut, pupils rolling to the back of his head.

He saw stars. 

And he must have been knocked unconscious for the first few moments because in a flash when he opened his eyes again, more people were grabbing onto his ugly feet, sterilizing them and filing the nails down to the nub. 

The first time he whimpered, there was another punch, plus a distant “put the hood on him” before it was dark again. The last time he saw his talons, he saw double. 

At least he couldn’t see the light anymore.

He could hear the buzz of the bone saw, grating, mingling with the sounds of the own pained bird noises he was making. 

Eventually, he was gagged.

Then, headphones placed over his ears in an attempt to thwart the distressed noises.

Hawks would have rather looked down to see them saw off his talons, his toes practically shrinking down to half the size. 

The pain was the worst he had felt, sending fire up his nerves. From his toes to his thighs then all the way up to his skull, reverberating there for minutes on end.

It was painful.

It was torture.

When Hawks finally passed out, it was a blessing.

“Man, why is he still making noise? Isn’t he unconscious?” 

“They said we could beat ‘em more if he keeps chirping.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Thud.

Hawks was being moved. The chains released from his ankles and wrist where they had been held too tight. 

Hands tried to force him to stand, but when he couldn’t scramble with his new feet from under him, they dragged him up, wings dragging on the ground behind him.

“Take him down the hallway.”

“Here?”

“Yeah… they said it was some isolation room or somethin’”

“Oh right, Here. Let’s just throw him down.”

The sliding of a door.

Hawk’s wings were crushed as he hit the floor.

The gag, headphones, and hood remained on.

He tried to open his crusty eyes, but could feel that they were swollen shut.

Other than the utter pain shocking his system like lighting to water, he could feel the red hot burn of fever. 

“Too bad he’s too beat up to look pretty anymore.”

“Yeah man, the commission said we could have our way with him, but I’m not much into people who look like a corpse.”

“Maybe if you were desperate enough…”

The voices faded away.

Hawks lost consciousness again.

The commission always talked about just how bad and unneeded his bird traits, such as his talons, were.

They never mentioned just how much the avian part inside of him would shriek and shrill at the loss is something so instinctual such as the talons on his feet. 

He thought that once the corruption would be gone, that he would feel better. Be a better hero. But the following week in the isolation room of the commission, he fell apart. Unraveled.

The talons that were no longer on his feet were a phantom pain. His feet clenching and twisting on instinct in an attempt to draw the talons out of the empty jail bed. No more gripping, no more balance.

He could no longer stand. 

The few times he attempted, he toppled right over onto the glass covered floor. 

The bandages wrapped around his feet bled through on multiple occasions, but even if the commission sent nurses in to replace the bandages, the bleeding simply wouldn’t stop. 

Crimson trails smeared across the floor until he couldn’t even find the motivation to get up. 

He was depressed.

A small chirruping in his chest mourned. 

Even when the commission left food, it remained untouched.

Hawks clawed at the walls and whined some more.

A week later found the men dumping him down onto his apartment doorstep. They had dragged him the full way, as he couldn’t even stand on his own. 

His handler was there, standing above him.

“You get a week off from hero work. In a month, we plan to move onto the talons on your fingers.” 

Hawks couldn’t find it in himself to reply. 

Instead, he only stayed on the floor and looked across dully.

He didn’t register when they left him alone, flicking the lights off

It had been nearly a week in a half since the league had even heard from their undercover agent, and Dabi was starting to lose his shit.

“I’m sure he’s just ghosting you cuz you looked through his phone!” Toga supplied, rather unhelpful. He knew it was just her halfhearted attempt to diffuse the situation, but he could see the worry that lingered in those crazy eyes of hers.

They were all twitchy.

“I’m gonna go see if he finally dropped home. All this Sittin’ around isn’t doing shit.”

“He hasn’t been there for the past week, what makes you think this will be any different?” 

He pointedly ignored Spinner's snark as he kicked the rickety door of the bar closed. 

And this time, however, was different because when Dabi climbed through the window, there was a giant red ball of fluff on the floor directly in front of the front door.

Holy shit.

“Hawks.”

His voice did not crack.

It didn’t.

His feathers barely moved, not even a ruffle as Dabi brushed his limp wings aside to reveal Hawk’s face, beaten and battered, body wearing nothing but a thin hospital gown. 

He shivered.

Dried blood married the tiled floor around him and Dabi couldn’t help but wonder just how long he had been laying here.

It didn’t look like he had even moved recently.

“Hawks,” he gently nudged his shoulder, only to receive no reaction. Upon further inspection, his eyes were half open and just… staring.

Lifeless.

A shiver ran down Dabi’s spine. He would have thought the hero was dead if his chest wasn’t slowly rising and falling as if In hibernation.

“You’re dissociating, can you hear me?”

Still no response.

The entire apartment smelled like cleaning chemicals and rotting flesh. Normally, he was accustomed to smells when he burnt people alive, but this was so much worse in a clinical way.

He moved to put a hand on his cheek, but pulled back when he saw those bruises that bloomed and festered over his face. Molted together until Dabi couldn’t even see his true tan skin color.

“I’m going to take you away.” He decided. “Away from here.”

Hawks was either too tired to answer, or having an out of body experience, because he only let out a low groan when Dabi shifted him into his arms.

The thin gown fluttered and Dabi could only throw his jacket over the man before calling for a warp. 

“I don’t know what the fuck they did to you, or what the hell you think, but you are not going back there.”

As they walked into the portal, he could only feel the deadweight in his arms shuffle slightly closer. 

Chapter Text

It doesn't take long to get Hawks to the safety of the rundown bar, just a phone call to Kurogiri to create a portal.

Of course, immediately after the call he had expected the others to crowd around as he half dragged half carried the unresponsive body all the way to the couch, Toga shooting questions at him non stop until he finally silenced her with a glare.

“What can we do?” Kurogiri, thank god, simply asked, and Dabi pulled away, his fingers numb as he looked down at the fallen hero on the couch.

He looked… broken.

Like he had never seen such a prideful person before.

He should like to see someone from the hero society in such pain. It was all he had ever wanted, but now, he could only stare and stare down like it would change the fact that his empty stomach was twisting.

On the couch, normal vibrant, now pale, wings were limp, one over the back and the other falling down, tip brushing the concrete floor. Eyes half lidded and unfocused, glossed over.

Was that drool?

“I don’t-“ he hissed, clenching his fist as he looked down at the pitiful sight. “I don’t know.”

“That is okay,” Kurogiri moved from around the back of the couch, as if he had expected the question. “Allow me to help?”

Dabi hadn’t realized he was standing close to Hawks, blocking him from the others, until Kurogiri politely asked him to step back.

Dabi relinquished.

He watched as Kurogiri put a hand on Hawk’s forehead, brushing limp blonde hair back. “He has a high fever.”

And now that Hawks looked close enough, Hawk’s was pale, but his cheeks were still flushed. He had felt warm when Dabi had dragged him, but he originally assumed it was his own body heat.

He finally ripped his eyes away from Hawks.

“What do we do?”

“Our best,” Kurogiri lifted his hand away, and Hawks subconsciously chased the contact. “If one of you could grab the medical kit? And then Dabi, I suppose this hospital gown isn’t all too comfortable on him.”

It was a veiled order to grab him some more clothes, so Dabi only listened as Toga sadly fussed over the hero as he disappeared into his room, digging through the clean clothes hamper until he found a loose tank top.

“Shit,” he cursed to himself as more sounds came from the next room. He hurriedly felt for the pocket knife in his pants, then flipped it open to cut two wing-sized holes into the back.

When he returned, Toga was leaning over the side of the couch and waving in front of the man’s face to catch his attention while Shigaraki and Spinner watched Kirogiri unpack the medical kit onto the floor.

“These’ll work,” Dabi laid the sweatpants and newly cut tank top over the back of the couch. Meeting gazes with Kurogiri for a brief moment, he then reached over the flick Toga on the forehead.

“Hey brat, we gotta change Hawks.”

Immediately, she opened her mouth to whine, but Kurogiri quickly shushed her. “I’m sure he would greatly appreciate it if you grabbed his blankets for him, no?”

Like a charm, she brightened up. Dabi wondered why he was so good with kids. (Or teenage psychopaths.)

Once she was gone, the room darkened.

“Help me with his feet, I think the fever was caused by infection, and I cannot see any signs of deep injuries under the hospital gown aside from the ones already there.”

“So you think… it’s his feet?” Dabi then realized just why Kurogiri thought so as he looked down to the man’s heavily bandaged feet.

Oh.

He had never seen Hawk’s feet before, he always wore boots even when inside. Heavy boots that he thought no way feet his size could fit in.

And yeah, those bandages around his feet have clear crimson oozing from them steadily.

Righteous anger flooded Dabi like a wave as he helped Kurogiri unwrap the bandages…

Only to see horribly molted feet, all stitched up at the tip. From the blood smearing his toes, he couldn’t even see where they stopped, only that they looked shorter than normal and with no toe nails whatsoever.

At the invasion of his privacy, Hawks made the first noise Dabi had heard since he had seen him, and it was a pained groan. Hawks’s gaze was glazed over as he looked down at his feet, bottom lip wobbling and brows furrowing.

Dabi was quick to move and cup a hand over his eyes. “Don’t look at it, it’ll only make it worse.”

Hawks made a grumbling noise under his breath, like the sad sound of a bird looking for its mother.

“What was that?” Dabi shifted closer, ear facing him. “Say it again.”

A small voice.

“Talons… took… ‘m talons.”

Dabi froze in place, Kurogiri also pausing in his rewrapping of Hawk’s wounds.

“Can’t… stand.” Hawks continued, Like it was his fault. “M sorry.”

“They took your damn talons,” Dabi had to take a breath to restrain himself. “And you can’t stand. They took away your nails, and you can’t- it’s not your fault. Ya hear me?”

“Dabi,” Kurogiri said, ever so gently.

That was when he noticed that Hawks had slumped back, eyes shut. He couldn’t tell if he had passed out, or simply gone to sleep.

Dabi’s hands twitched. He needed to burn someone.

“Help him with his clothes while I finish wrapping his feet. As long as we keep the… surgery… sights clean, they should heal up.”

Dabi wordlessly grabbed Hawks by his shoulders, gently hauling him up to a sitting position. His head slumped down to his chest.

“Hawks, ‘m gonna change you, alright?”

The only response he got was a sleepy grumble, and Dabi had to assume he was okay with him reaching around the back of his head and untying the strings of the thin hospital gown.

He made light work of arranging limp limbs to slide his tank on, then legs to slide on the sweatpants. Toga arrived just as he tugged on the drawstrings to tie them tight, bundles of blankets piled high in her arms.

“Here!” She cried as she dumped them all onto the couch. Then, curiously, “is birdie okay?”

Kurogiri pulled away, done with the medical kit.

“He shall be fine as long as we keep him well rested and help him bring his fever down. I have already given him medication, but when he wakes back up we need to get some substance and fluids into him.”

Toga nodded to the bartender's instruction, very focused. “I can go make soup!”

“I am going to follow her to assure the safety of our kitchen,” Kurogiri dismissed himself to follow behind the teenager, leaving Dabi with Hawks and the rest of the idiots now playing video games. (Hovering around to pretend they were lurking in worry.)

Dabi sighed and glared at the others who were very pointedly pretending not to look as he judged Hawks back downwards, pushing a pillow under his head to drape the blankets over his shivering form.

“Take a nap and come back, bird.” He ordered, plopping a wet rag onto his boiling forehead.

Just as he sat down, back to the couch, his ears caught onto the faint cracking of the radio they always kept on the news station at the bar.

“Just in, number two pro hero Hawks has officially been reported missing, thanks to recent information from the hero commission. He has been out of public spotlight for a week now because of a reported national mission, though has yet to report safely. If any citizens are to catch sight of him-“

Shigaraki reduced the old radio to a pile of ashes.

“That commission…. It’s corrupt, all of them.” He scratched the skin off of neck until it visibly flakes under his dull nails. “They don’t deserve to report him missing.”

Not when they were the ones who caused the damage in the first place.

Declawing an animal was torture.

Declawing Hawks was torture.

Dabi settled down into place, only slightly uncomfortable with the puffing of Hawk’s breath against the back of his neck as he sat infront of him.

The first time Hawks woke up, it was because Dabi had been forced to.

Hours later, he had well past zoned out with the sound of video games in the background and the clatter of Kurogiri trying to salvage whatever mess Toga had created in the kitchen.

He almost missed when Hawk’s breathing stuttered into low moans and small bird noises and Dabi was hearing more and more of lately. It was only when they evolved to words that Dabi turned around to face the sick man to see if he was in need of more fever reducer…

Though his eyes were still closed, eyebrows pinched together as if he was in pain.

If possible, he looked even sicker than before, face drained of color and cheeks flushed.

“Please… no.” He mumbled, shifting into his side. Dabi had to dodge the wing that he draped over himself. “I’ll be good. No more.”

“Geez,” Dabi shifted to a crouch, patting the man’s back between the wings. His feathers fluffed up at the movement. He knew not to wake up someone having a fevered dream, but…

“I can’t. No. Please.”

Please.

Dabi couldn’t hear that word again.

“Hawks,” he moved a hand up to nudge the hero awake, “wake up. You’re not there anymore, you’re at the league's hideout.”

He shook him a few more times until half-lidded eyes finally opened, blinking slowly into wakefulness.

“That’s it. Look at me.”

Hawks’s panicked eyes rolled around the room, sliding from Dabi to the background until finally settling back onto Dabi.

“…D’abi?” He asked, and as an answer, he pressed harder onto his back.

“You’re back here. Good.”

“Mmm.” Hawks winced at the hoarseness of his own voice, and he at least seemed more aware than last time.

“Sit up,” Dabi demanded, helping push him upwards until he leaned heavily against the back of the work couch. “You need water before you go back to sleep.”

“M… gonna puke it.”

“No you won’t,” Dabi lied, because he probably would. Even so, it didn’t change the fact that he still needed sustenance to fight off the infection and fever.

Better now, when he was more aware, than later when he was out of it once again.

“…M’kay.”

Dabi reached to his side to grab the water bottle and uncap it, holding it up to Hawk’s lips. “I’m not even gonna try and let you drink it on your own,” he explained as he tipped the bottle back, “I won’t clean a mess up on the couch when you drop it.”

Hawks didn’t reply, too busy gulping down water like a man in the desert.

“That’s enough,” he pulled the bottle away, and water trailed from Hawk’s bottom lip. Dabi reached to wipe it off with his sleeve.

Not that he cared, it would just annoy him.

“Thanks,” Hawks managed, and he already looked like he was going to sleep, as if drinking half a water bottle was enough to tire him out completely.

“You can eat later, go back to sleep.”

“Mmhm.”

Hawks laid back down, on his stomach this time to let both his wings rest peacefully on his back.

His breathing uneven and choppy.

Dabi reached a hand over without thinking and tangled them through dirty blonde hair. It was an instinct, an old memory of what he used to do for his siblings when they fell sick.

When he realized what he was doing, he nearly pulled away until he noticed Hawks relax under the touch.

Dabi wasn’t good with touching. Prolonged contact with skin to skin felt like his own fire burning him alive.

But he would let Hawk’s have this for once, because he knew that Hawks often felt the same.

The second time Hawks woke up, Dabi nearly tripped over his own feet and fell onto his ass on his way back into the room from the kitchen.

The soup had gone cold, so he poured it into the one clean container they had and shoved it to the back of their half working fridge.

And now, Hawks had crawled his way onto the floor in his sleep, and was on all fours, looking down at the ground as if it personally offended him.

After Dabi got over his mild heart attack, he approached the man like a cornered animal. “… Bird?”

“The floor,” he slurred, then looked up to Dabi with fevered hazed eyes, not all there. “They’re all over the floor.”

Dabi’s eyebrow twitched, “what’s all over the floor?”

Hawk’s bottom lip quivered, and Dabi was tired of seeing it. “Eggs. All cracked.”

There were certainly not cracked eggs on the floor, as far as Dabi could see. Which meant he was hallucinating.

“Is your brain so fried that you’re seeing shit?” He knelt down, hooking one of Hawk’s arms over his shoulder to heft him back up. “Come on, back to bed.”

“But. Eggs?” He asked as Dabi dragged his ass all the way back to the nest he had created on the couch.

“Sorry bird, no eggs for you.” He plopped him back down. He nestled back down and went right to sleep.

Dabi ignored the fact that he had called to the floor because he didn’t know how to walk anymore, not without his talons. He was clumsy at best.

What kind of weird bird hallucinations he was having, Dabi thought was weird at the time. He wished they’d stay that way though, because later throughout the night they only got worse and worse as he worked on getting him to eat soup and drink water.

When he mentioned the shadow man behind Dabi, he nearly jumped out of his damn skin.

And when he mentioned that the commission was there to take him away, well, Dabi reassured him that they wouldn’t.

The third time was around four in the morning, and it was the time where Dabi truly needed to calm himself down enough not to burn the hideout down to ashes.

By the time Hawks was up and alert, his eyes were still glazed over and unaware. He attempted to sit up and struggle around, but Dabi easily kept him rooted to the couch. It only took a palm to the forehead to realize that his fever had risen significantly.

He wouldn’t just be able to sweat it out. They needed to do something, now.

“Kurogiri,” he hissed to the man behind the bar. The rest of the league had gathered around to spread across the living room and nap, forced by Toga to have a sleepover.

The mist of a body appeared behind the couch, yellow eyes scouting the situation.

“We need to douse him in cold water before his fever gets higher. A hospital is out of the option, not if we wish for him to remain missing to society.”

“What will we do when he’s aware enough to fly right back to the commission? They won’t consider him missing for much longer.”

“We will not let him do such a thing,” Kurogiri answered as he took Hawk’s right side, Dabi aiding the other. “And nor will the boss.”

“What a possessive Little shit.”

It didn’t take long for them to drag the now unconscious man to their small shared restroom. It wasn’t much to meet the eye, a small tub that Hawk’s wings would dip over the edge of and cracked tile all over the floor. If Dabi squinted, he could possibly even see mold between the cracks.

Dabi sat him down on the toilet while Kurogiri filled the tub up. They wordlessly worked in silence, Dabi hooking his arms under the man’s armpits to dump him into the chilly water.

Like a switch had been flicked, the moment he was into the water, he gasped and his eyes flew open. For once, he appeared to be present.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dabi leaned away. He caught sight of Hawk’s bandaged toes sticking out over the edge, luckily dry. “had to cool your temperature down.”

“By… dumping me in cold water?” Hawks winced, teeth chattering.

Dabi shrugged dismissively with one shoulder. “Don’t blame me, it was Kurogiri’s idea.”

“We will keep you in here for only a little, I apologize.” Kurogiri explained like some kind of fake gentlemen. “Though while you are finally awake, what would you like us to do?”

Hawks shivered in the tub, his feathers fluffing and flattening, crushed to the sides of the tub. He wrapped his arms around his torso, and without his gloves, Dabi would see that he also had talons on his hands. They were filed down to only dull nails. They were sad to look at.

“What- what do you mean?”

“The commission. Should I burn ‘em?” Dabi held up a hand with blue flames. Hawks flinched back, causing the water to slosh over the edge of the tub.

He flinched.

Dabi regretfully stamped out his flames.

“I don’ wanna go back,” Hawks finally decided after a long moment. “I… can’t. Not there. But- they need me back or- or-“

“Or nothing,” Dabi shut him up. “If you don’t wanna go back, you won’t. We’ll keep you here, at least until you have a clear enough head to make choices for yourself.”

And at that, Hawk’s entire body seemed to loosen like it had been caught in a spring trap. His eyes slid shut and by the time he fell asleep once again, he was back on the couch and bundled up with the blankets Toga threw on top of him.

Chapter Text

Hawks had never felt so Miserable In his life. Not when he had crashed into a glass window that one time and it made news headlines, and not when he got sick and was forced to patrol anyways.

But despite that, he had never been so cared for in his life.

This time around, when he woke up from fevered dreams, rather than sobbing alone by himself, half out of his mind, there were warm hands that weaved through his hair to calm him down.

This time, when his entire body ached with pain and his feet refused to work under him, arms picked him up to carry him to the restroom to vomit his guts up.

This time was not any different.

Hawks didn’t know how long he had been walking the tightrope of limbo, awareness and fevered delusion. He did know, though, that his stomach was cramping up on him and nausea was hitting him like turbulent waves on a dock.

He let an audible sound slip past his chapped lips as he attempted to roll over on the couch to gain comfort. Something above his head moved, the pressure shifting.

“Okay?” The low voice asked. At first Hawks didn’t recognize who it was. Normally, he would be on edge but the voice was one his gut told him to trust.

“Mmmph” he buried his head into the cushion. It was a rough cushion, kind of denim feeling. Like that one time he was knocked out on field and best jeanist had thrown him over his shoulder.

“Nausea?” The same voice asked, and Hawks didn’t care how feverish he was at the moment, because he let out a chirp and not even boiling his brain could excuse such an action-

“It’s okay, Bird.” The voice- Dabi, he recognized- said, and his denim pillow moved away.

Oh, it was Dabi’s leg.

Hawks tried not to pathetically chase after the warmth, but his head was splitting in half and his face was burning but his brain was cold cold cold.

“M not going away. We can get you to the restroom, it’s about time you douse yourself in more cold water anyway.”

The thought of water made Hawks shiver, but the voice was nice and he would follow it anywhere at the moment.

“Okay, it’s time to get up.”

Hawk’s entire body ached, the inside felt like caramelized syrup, slow and molten, and the outside felt like a cracked shell.

Like chocolate.

He had never been allowed to eat that.

The somber though somehow punched a pained laugh from his lungs. Or maybe it was a wheeze. The voice above him sounded worried.

“I dunno what you’re hallucinating right now, but it better not be about eggs again.” It grumbled.

Eggs?

Hawks liked eggs.

Before he could attempt to vocalize just how much he liked eggs, arms wrapped around his torso like a hug, pulling him all the way up to his feet.

Which Hawks didn’t understand, because if Dabi was actually the one helping him to his feet, then shouldn’t he have let go of him by now instead of the near carry he had him in?

Dabi wouldn’t do that. He had no reason to, Hawks could move just fi-

He collapsed to the floor the moment he attempted to move a foot in front of him. An uncovered foot with bandages wrapped around. The pain was so severe and quick that he almost lost it in the soreness that followed.

“Shit,” Dabi’s voice above him cursed as he got to a crouch down to Hawk’s level.

But it was too late.

He had looked down and seen the abomination of what was left of his feet. Felt the emptiness of talon beds.

If all came back to him at once, the utter loss of such a trait made him keen as he stared down at his mangled feet.

“Shit,” Dabi Said again. This time more sympathetic.

Which made Hawks want to cry even more because he didn’t want sympathy, he just wanted his talons back. He was stressed. He wanted to sleep.
How long had it been since he’d slept?

Or had he been sleeping this whole time?

Maybe this was all just a bad nightmare.

“That's right, it’s okay.” Dabi said, and Hawks realized that his scattered brain had just distracted itself from the fact that he was missing a major part of himself.

Now Hawks really felt like he was going to throw up.

Dabi must have seen it on his face, because he was quick to once again toss Hawks’ arm over his shoulder and army crawl them to the restroom just a few steps away. It took all the remaining energy he had to simply wrap his (ungloved) hands around the (thankfully clean) toilet seat and hang his head down in shame.

It was hard to cry and throw up at the same time, but he managed to do just that while a heated hand patted his back.

Tears mingled with the drool on his chin, but the villain didn’t seem to mind because he wiped it from his face with no fuss. Hawks swallowed thickly and hiccuped because he tried to wiggle his toes and it hurt. The loss of the phantom pain hurt more than the injuries themselves.

“I know,” Dabi grumbled, and strangely enough, pulled him closer to his chest so that Hawks could no longer look down at his ravaged feet. “I know.”

He didn’t, but the words were enough for Hawks.

So he let himself curl up a bit more in an attempt to ward the rolling sickness away, even if the fever was burning him from the inside out.

Ironically, the most cooling thing was Dabi’s hand through his hair.

“-ink he’s okay?”

“Well, he’s alive.”

“That should be enough for me, call me if he flatlines.”

“That's not even funny boss! Not funny at all!”

“Shush. You’ll wake him.”

All of the voices around Hawk’s faded into nothingness.

“You’re pathetic.” She said in front of him.

He was back at the commission, as he had expected. He always found his way back here. He knew where he belonged, and it was on his knees in front of the commission desk with his handler's hand wrapped around the back of his pathetic neck like a collar.

He swallowed thickly.

“I apologize ma’am.”

“You need to do better.”

“I will ma’am.”

“Do you know what you’ve done wrong?”

He didn’t.

Even so.

“I do, ma’am.”

She peered down at him, unconvinced. He could see it in the way the crows feet around her eyes crinkled. He tensed as much as his paralyzed body currently could, apprehensive.

“I don’t believe you. Take him away.”

And there it was, the fear bubbling in his gut as he was dragged away. The humiliation of eyes watching. The pain of the fingers along his wings, pulling and tugging and plucking and rubbing-

The fever burst through his head like a drum, echoing through his skull like some kind of demented symphony.

“Put it in there, the perfect place.” A shadowy voice ordered, along with the accompanying piercing pain in the back of his neck. It clicked and blinked and roiled under his skin like a maggot under a dead corpse.

Maybe that was what he was. Dead.

He could accept that, if it was what would cause the pain to stop.

“Hawks.” A voice jolted from … somewhere.

It sounded like he was in the isolation room, clawing at the walls. But… it wasn’t coming from outside the room, it was in there with him. The commission never let any living beings enter during punishment aside from himself, not even an ant.

“Hawks.” It said again, sounding closer. Like breath on his face.

“Hmm?” He dared to make a noise. He wasn’t allowed to, and if he did, then they may kill him, but he had already decided it was okay to die at this point, so why bother?

“Come back to me, thats right birdie.”

Birdie?

They never called him that, only…

Blue flames licked the back of his neck in a vice grip, then engulfed the rest of his body.

When Hawks finally decided to open his eyes, Dabi was above him and the lights around were dim, like the isolation room but warmer and cozier. He would have heard the soft radio in the background if it wasn’t for the heaviness of his own breathing.

“Look at me, you’re not there.”

“M’not?” He found himself asking, but the voice didn’t sound like something that came from his own body. Detached.

“No, you’re here with me. At the league's base.”

That would explain the video game static in the far distance, as well as the nice fuzzy blankets wrapping him up like a toddler. He didn’t know it that was the reason he was so sweltering, or if his fever was coming to a pitch.

“The league,” that same voice came from his chest. But it wasn’t him. Nothing had been truly him since-

Since-

The maggot wiggled under his skin, pulsing and angry.

“It’s there,” he mumbled, wriggling himself loose from his cage of blankets. Dabi reluctantly reached to help him in his mission, and that was good because his wings were twitching in pain and the little worm inside of him was crying and clicking and oozing-

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Dabi asked, the exact moment Hawks sharpened the talons he still had on his hands.

“Get it out,” he feverently scratched at the back of his neck, where he could feel the swollen skin raised.

“Get what out?” Hawks could almost hear Dabi’s freaked out voice over the scratch scratch scratching noise of nails on his skin. Distantly, he could feel Dabi wrap thin fingers around his wrist to pull away, but Hawks quickly shook him off.

“Hawks, you need to tell me what's wrong, I can- we can help dammit!”

With a crash Hawks hit the floor and scooted himself back to the nearest wall because Dabi was important but not more important than the worm under his dead skin. He needed it out.

A blood trail smeared across the floor from his feet.

Finally, with no hands there to stop him, Hawks desperately reached back to dig deep down into the meat of his lower neck, just between the shoulder blades of the ripped tank top. He didn’t feel satisfied until he could feel thick crimson, like molasses, trickle down his back.

But it was still moving.

It was still alive.

“-awks. Hawks!” Dabi’s hands were there again and he was crouching in front of him, forcefully pulling his arms back to his side, trapping him.

“It out, get it out!” his voice was hoarse and practically a whisper, but it was enough for Dabi to hear.

“Enough!” Dabi yelled, significantly louder. Far away, Hawks could hear the video games pause. There was shuffling, and not like the ants waiting outside for him in the silent room. “Enough,” Dabi shook him by the shoulders until Hawks’ brain snapped back on top of his spine.

“Sorry,” Hawks said, habitually. “I’m sorry.”

He sounded so broken, like shattered glass on the floor that Dabi was trying to pick up with his bare hands.

The world around him came back to focus, and the league members shuffled around in the background, lights flickering on. In Front of him, Dabi looked more bothered than Hawks had ever seen the villain. Like he had just witnessed Hawks kick his childhood puppy.

“What did you need to get out?” Dabi finally asked, and Hawks didn’t have the energy to answer, not with the fever ravaging his body. Instead, he crumpled down until his stomach was to his knees and his forehead was touching the floor. “My neck,” he wheezed, “there's a- a tracker. I didn’t know about it.”

It made him wonder what else he didn’t know about.

He wrapped himself into a ball as Dabi wordlessly carded a hand through his hair, leaving a flaming sensation all the way down to where the blood sprouted.

“Here are bandages,” a distant voice said.

“And some disinfectant too,” another one.

“Leave it there and go away,” Dabi grumbled, voice close to the back of Hawk’s neck as he pressed down onto the fresh wound.

“Do you see it?” Hawks asked, voice muffled by his mouth being shoved against his own knees in his strange origami folded position.

“Shush,” Dabi ordered, and Hawks clamped his mouth shut as Dabi, with little ask, pressed down onto the back of his neck. Hawks could feel the pinprick of pressure, all the way up until, almost painfully, Dabi dug tweezers into the flesh and pulled the maggot from out of him.

“Hawks, c’mon,” Dabi pulled him back upwards from his position until his back was to the wall. The tweezers were shoved into his face and it took his fevered eyes a few moments to adjust to the metal glinting underneath the bar light.

And there it was, the tiny thing, just barely large enough to be the worm that had been wiggling around in him all these years.

“There it is,” Dabi took the tracker between two fingers, crushing it to little tiny fibers, spread across the bar's concrete floor. “That's more like it.”

Hawk’s wings felt heavy on his back with relief, and on either side of him, they drooped. “Couch,” he asked as his body weighed itself down to the floor like an anchor, “can we go back?”

“Tch, you were the one who left it in the first place.” Despite his words, Dabi once again lugged him up and back to the couch like a soldier. If he was a soldier, he wouldn’t be a pawn. Not like the one Hawks used to be.

“Thank you Dabi,” he mumbled, half asleep once he finally settled down to lay on his stomach. He would have thrown up again if he had anything in his stomach.

“Don’t go to sleep now,” Dabi ordered, and it was hard for Hawks to keep his weighted eyes open, but he did so anyway. Because Dabi asked him to.

Hawks could only distantly wonder what the cloth feeling against his neck was, then realized that he was cleaning his self inflicted wound. Washing the blood away with ease to see the damage, then wrapping it once he realized there would be no lasting damage without stitches.

“Wow,” a girl's voice cooed and Toga was poking him on the forehead, forcing him to stop staring into the distance and focus in on her. “Your blood is so pretty Hawksie, I wanna taste!”

“...Maybe later,” he grumbled into the cushion of the couch. The weight on his back shifted, and that was when he realized Dabi was sitting on him to reach his neck, like he was some sort of horse.

He was like a weighted blanket.

“I have some water,” she continued, ignoring the denial of her request. “Oh! And soup, but its a bit frozen. I can get Dabi to dethaw it with his quirk! If you want fresh water I can go outside and get some snow to melt…”

Her voice grew distant, even when she forced him to take some medicine and drink water. Hopefully not dethawed snow.

Eventually, his tired body drifted off again.

He didn’t know if it was the fever that caused him to hallucinate warm hands, preening and straightening each and every feather on his wings until he was a puddle on the couch.

Toga: Aww look at them napping together! Aren’t they so cute!
jpeg.img_Hawks and Dabi napping

Spinner: That is the most disgusting shit I have ever seen.

Shigaraki: ^

Compress: ^

Kurogiri: Do not worry Toga, I think it is cute.

Toga: Giri is the only bitch in here who cares about me :(

Spinner: ^

Shigaraki: ^

Compress: ^

“Why did you do it?” Shigaraki asked, once the lights had once again been dimmed to the minimum and a chorus of small snores and sleepy noises echoed through the layer. One of which, came from next to Dabi on the couch. It didn’t take much to get Hawks back to sleep.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dabi lied, simply ignoring the annoying teenaged creep to look back down at his phone. He would need to find a way to delete that picture from existence. But he hadn’t slept in the week since Hawks had gotten sick and he didn’t plan on falling asleep to nap again with Toga anywhere near him.

“The tracker,” Shigaraki pressed even further into his business, and from his place on Dabi’s chest, Hawks did not stutter or falter. He was well and truly asleep.

“What about it?”

Shigaraki moved closer, and the alarm bells in Dabi’s head rang. He wasn’t wearing gloves to cover his fingers. “He was too sick to realize that it was simply the blade of a razor. One of the ones you have attached to your coat,” Shigaraki reached out and tugged at one of the many metals that decorated his coat. “So i’ll ask again, why did you pretend he had a tracker inside of him.”’

Dabi shoved the boss's hand away from his coat.

“I thought it was obvious enough. He was freaking out to dig it out, and obviously the commission did some fucked up shit to him, but if he had a tracker in him, we’d know. They’d be here for him immediately. I’m guessing they just pretended to put one in him when he was younger because they were confident of the control they had over him. No matter what happened, he would always come flying back to them like a good little bird.”

Shigaraki pulled back, for once, looking somewhat thoughtful. “So you think he’ll fly back now?”

And just the very thought of it made Dabi want to go back to his original plan of burning the entirety of hero society to the ground.

“He can’t even stand. He’s not going anywhere.”

“It hasn’t stopped him before.”

Dabi sighed. He needed a smoke.

“We’ll see, you flakey bastard.”

Chapter Text

Hawks had slept for a total of a week after that.

Dabi was sure the man had never slept so much before in his life, which explained a lot about him.

The fever had persisted all the way up until the second week mark, where he became too exhausted with the ordeal to stay awake. Dabi had been put on babysitting duty the entirety of the time, forcing him to eat and drink and then dragging him to throw it all up again. Like some kind of cruel cycle.

And then, finally, when he was back and alert, came the hard part.

“What will you do?” Dabi asked, late one night with only the clattering of the kitchen in the background. Kurogiri had claimed he was going to make a home cooked meal since Hawks was finally able to keep his food down.

The TV light was a soft hue against the hero's sunken cheekbones. If he kept that poor diet up, he would loose the little muscle he had. He looked contemplative as he resolutely stared off to the wall in front of them.

“The view can’t be that interesting. Answer the question.”

“I don’t know.” Hawks answered honestly. He looked like a shell of what he once was, and for some reason, Dabi preferred the look on him to the fake mask he wore in public and on TV. It was honest, but empty. He was like broken pottery, molten poured between the cracks to create a process of healing. It was ugly. Dabi couldn’t look away.

“You have time to decide,” Dabi relented.

“I can’t go back, I- But I have to-”

“You don’t have to do anything. We won’t make you go back, but we can’t make you stay here.” Dabi stood up from the couch once Toga called their names from the kitchen, “first thing you need to focus on is getting better again.” He offered an arm, and Hawks reached out to latch onto it. He ignored the when the talons dug into his skin, just a bit too deep.

Dabi preferred him without the damn gloves anyway.

Relearning how to walk was harder than Hawks had been expecting it to be.

During his sleep cycles, he collapsed onto the couch for hours at a time, but the small amount fo times he was awake to eat and drink (and hopefully not throw up,) he took it upon himself to struggle to his feet, hand protectively on the back of the couch, and struggle his way to relearn his balance.

He could feel Dabi’s eyes on him, somewhere from the shadows of the hideout, but he didn’t offer any help because he knew that getting back onto his own feet was something that Hawks needed to do for himself.

Just one step in front of the other.

Hawks looked down at his ugly, scarred feet. The bandages covered the worst of the damage, but he could see the puckered scars protruding from the fabric. Blood welled from the stitches with each step, weight pressed upon them.

He was useless like this, but at least he could still fly.

Landing, though, would be a challenge. Getting balance with boots on was hard enough, but without his talons…

He would learn how to walk first.

He already got three steps in, but on an unlucky twist of his ankle, he was reduced to a pile of red wings on the floor. They flapped in an attempt to get him back up, and it would have worked if he hadn’t stress gripped onto the couch.

Sweat dripped down his brow in exertion as he hauled himself back up, and that was when Dabi finally emerged from his place in the shadows. He had probably been laughing at him this entire time.

Not that Hawks cared.

“That's enough,” he said, taking Hawk’s shoulder to steady him. “It’s late, if you wake up the rest of the league, i’ll have to deal with their whiny asses when they wake up.”

In other words, get some rest.

“Don’t beat around the bush,” Hawks settled down onto the couch, pulling the blanket all the way up to his chin. “Jus’ tell me you want me to go to sleep.”

“Okay then,” Dabi cupped a hand over his eyes, and it would have been restricting like the hood the commission often place on him if it wasn’t Dabi. “Go to sleep.”

“Wow look at him go, he’s like a newborn deer!”

“It’s not nice to make fun of him, Spinner. You crawl around like a lizard anyway you freak.”

“You literally drink people's blood!”

“Fuck you, go teach him how to crawl, maybe it’ll be easier for him.”

There the stupid hero's phone was. Ringing over and over and over again in the pocket of his pants pocket. The pants Dabi had disposed of in his dirty laundry hamper. They had decided to keep his phone away from him while he healed.

It was a good thing, because that stupid commission contact had called him a plethora of times. Along with a few pro heroes who were asking about his condition and whereabouts. Some, apparently, thought he was taking a well needed secret vacation.

But one in particular was quite annoying with his consistency in his phone calls. At least three times a day, once in the morning, once during lunch, and the last one in the evening.

‘Eraserhead’ was the contact. An underground pro hero and the teacher of that class 1-A. He must have been Hawk’s contact in regards to the underground fighting ring, but this went much further than a business contact.

He was worried.

One of the only ones out of them who genuinely thought Hawks was in any danger.

So by the time Dabi finally saw it fit to give Hawks’ phone back, the bird stared blankly at the screen.

“You gonna reply to any of them?”

Hawks threw his phone to the other end of the couch. “Nah. I’m tired.”

When he curled up once again, Dabi couldn’t help but wonder if his energy was sapped from the healing, or if he was feeling depressed.

Probably a mixture of both.

Hawks was awoken from the vibrant ringing of whatever basic ringtone his phone had originally came with.

He wanted to smash the thing between his talons.

He didn’t even know they got his hero outfit, but apparently, it had been folded up by his discarded body in his apartment, and Dabi had seen it fit to hold it hostage with his own belongings.

He could have looked through his phone, if he really wanted. It wasn't password protected.

He cracked his eyes open and groped around the nest he had built on the couch until his hand came in contact with the cool metallic device. In his sleepiness, he hit the ‘answer call’ button on the screen instead of ‘end call.’

“Damn,” he grumbled, twisting away from the enclosure of his blankets.

Before he could throw the phone across the room and break the thing, a gruff voice answered, and it was certainly not the commission. “Hawks,” he sounded urgent, almost relieved. “You’re alive.”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled before he could change his mind. The light from his phone screen illuminated the darkness around him.

“Come again?”

“Nevermind,” he dragged a hand through his hair. Without filing his nails down, his talons were getting longer and curved. They caught on a few strands of his bedhead. “I’m okay, just laying low.”

“By laying low, you mean scaring the general public into thinking you’re dead?”

“That's not-” he lowered his voice. “No, that's not what I intended. Look, Aizawa. All you need to know is that I'm safe, and I’ll be back soon, one way or another.”

“I’m not telling you to come back,” The man said, almost immediately. “It would be in your best interest to take as much time as you need away from the public eye before returning.” There was a pause, like he was contemplating what to say next. “Look, the commission is under fire right now, and it’s about to be in even deeper shit. UA is planning on placing a lawsuit with you at the center of it, along with all of their other mistreatments of heroes.”

Hawk’s mouth went dry.

“There's no way you can do that, they won’t go down that easy. They have plenty of ammunition-”

“None of that matters,” Aizawa interrupted him. “I will not sit by and let this corruption continue. As an underground hero, I see a lot of it, and there's not much I can do. But with this case, I am confident UA has the firepower to play as a public front. We’ll do it with, or without your help.”

“You have no proof.”

“We have files, photos, statements,” he continued. “We have you.”

Something rolled in his gut, and if he hadn’t already gotten sick the past weeks, he would have thought he was about to hurl. But this was different, because he had never heard the man sound so firm before. So worried. The emotional range he had only heard from him had only ever been exhaustion.

He couldn’t handle this right now. Not when he just wanted to ignore the world around him and remain in his safe little bubble.

“Good luck,” he tapped on the ‘end call’ button before he could regret it.

“Anything yet?” Hizashi asked from across the table.

“Yeah, the idiot finally answered. I was able to stay on the line long enough to pin the location.” Aizawa answered. They were breaking the rules of ‘no hero talk’ at the dinner table, but Eri was worried and it would be nice for her to hear that Hawks was actually alive.

The rumors the news reporters were coming up with were vile.

The commission attempted their best to remain calm, claiming he was still missing but receiving status updates all the same, but some had assumed they were trying to cover up a scheme.

Some thought he was retiring, and others thought he was dead.

“Where is he?” Eri asked, voice small and eyes big.

“Kyushu,” Aizawa replied shortly. He wasn’t going to tell her that it was the shady part of Kyushu where drug deals and gang activity was at its highest. The part where not even the substitute pro heroes covering for Hawks in his absences would wander off to.

It was worth it, to see the big smile that spread across her face,

“I knew he’d be okay!”

And when Aizawa traveled that night to find where the location was dropped, he turned a blind eye when he stumbled upon the league of villains base. When Dabi was helping a beaten and bruised looking Hawks across the room, the hero hobbled painfully.

When Himiko Toga brushed his wings out with small fingers and a giant smile on her face.

When Kurogiri and compress worked hard on a home cooked meal, probably one of the only pones Hawks had ever received aside from when Aizawa invited him to his own home.

There was no need to report the league, as long as they weren’t harming any civilians or attacking his students again.

He would need to keep tabs on this.