Chapter Text
At the end of a grueling workday, as Hawks finally opens his agency's door, a fresh breeze is in the air. The weather is perfect for flying. It's relatively warm for the end of October and there's barely a cloud in sight. A grin lights up his face and he closes his eyes to enjoy the wind tousling his blonde hair, his ruby red wings stretching.
Then he takes off.
Once the city is far below him and the people look like ants, Hawks finds an air current and lets himself be carried in the direction of his destination. Just thinking about it, a giggle threatens to escape from his lips. It makes him giddy, though it really shouldn't. He's on his way to meet Dabi, his contact from the League of Villains, a criminal group he's trying to infiltrate.
Hawks knows he's compromised, knows he should abandon the mission before he turns coat, but he can't stomach the thought of possibly never seeing Dabi's sarcastic mug again. So he keeps on heading towards the inevitable fork in the road. Towards the choice of whether to betray the Hero Public Safety Commission, the organization that raised him from a young age, or the man he's fallen for.
A shrill ringing disturbs the quiet and Hawks huffs in slight annoyance as he pulls his phone from his flight jacket. At the name on the display, his mood brightens again. The caller is the rabbit hero Miruko, also known as his best friend Usagiyama Rumi.
“‘Ello?” he answers the phone.
“Hawks! I hope you got off work on time today. Haven't forgotten our yearly Halloween-a-thon, have you?”
Crap. He has, indeed, forgotten. Too excited for his meeting with Dabi. Guilt churns in his gut as he answers: “I'm sorry, Rumi. I'm on my way to meeting someone and don't know how long it'll take.”
A gasp sounds from the other end of the line. “Don't tell me… You've got a date! Spill! Who is the lucky gentleman? Do I know him?”
Blood rushes to Hawks’ face, and for a moment, he doesn't know what to say. A date. With Dabi. If only…
No! He's a criminal. No dates with criminals!
“It's not a date!”
Rumi chuckles. “Come on. Don't be shy. Why else would you blow me off like that? And especially our Halloween-a-thon! I know you love crappy old horror movies.”
A guilty smile pulls at his lips. His friend has been rooting for him to go out with someone for ages. She wants him to be happy, after all. He hates disappointing her. Again.
“It really isn't a date. It's work. I- I forgot our Halloween-a-thon for work. Heck, until you called, I didn't even know it was Halloween today.”
After a long pause, in which Hawks almost flies into a building due to nerves, his bunny friend says: “You'll have to make it up to me. You know that, right?” The disappointment in her voice hurts. He's being a bad friend. Has been for a while now.
He lands on an empty side street not far from where he is to meet Dabi. “I'm really sorry, Rumi. I'll make it up to you.”
“You damn sure will!” Rumi answers. “Next Saturday, you'll take the whole day off and we'll treat ourselves to a nice spa day. Understood? No work. Just us, some face masks, loads of snacks and those crappy movies you're missing today. Capiche?”
A chuckle escapes Hawks’ lips. “Capiche.” Rumi is one of the only people who can get him to take a break, and while it can be annoying when he's in the workflow, in the end he's usually glad for it.
“Good. A promise is a promise. I'll leave you to your heroing now. Bye.”
Hawks can't help but smile. “Yeah. Promise. Bye.” He ends the call and puts his phone away, before he casually walks onto the main road that leads to where Dabi asked to meet him: the local cemetery.
Its big wooden gate looms over him as he approaches. It creaks with age when he opens it, but its sturdy build reassures him that it won't crumble under his touch. Once inside, Hawks tentatively looks around, taking in the rows upon rows of well-kept graves.
The sector in which Dabi is waiting for him is not far off. The villain's lean figure looks kind of lonely among the countless slabs of stone. His long, thin fingers are tracing the edge of a headstone, the black-haired male seeming lost in thought.
The gravel crunches under Hawks' boots as he approaches, catching the other man's attention. The moment their eyes meet, a wide, sharp grin stretches Dabi's lips, pulling at the staples holding his scarred face together. The sight causes butterflies to wreak havoc in Hawks’ tummy and he, mortifyingly, feels a blush rising to his cheeks.
“Pumpkin spice is a scam,” are the first words his League of Villains contact speaks, catching him completely off guard.
“Wh-?”
Before he can continue, Dabi elaborates: “There's no pumpkin in pumpkin spice. I'd expect there to be pumpkin in something called pumpkin spice.”
Hawks blinks, confused. “Uhm. It's spice for pumpkin? There's no bread in bread spice either…”
Dabi looks thoughtful for a moment. Then: “But pumpkin spice is mostly used for stuff other than pumpkin. I've never heard of bread spice being used for something other than bread.”
The blonde feels as though he's in the twilight zone. Here he is, expecting to be sent on some inane errand by Dabi, like he usually is when they meet up, but his contact instead talks about pumpkin spice of all things. “Uhm. True. Still. It was originally a spice used for making pumpkin stuff. Why are we discussing this? Don't you have something for me to do?”
Dabi looks thoughtful for a second, before his grin returns, even wider than before. “Nope.”
Frustration rises up in Hawks’ chest. He's had a long day and could be chilling with his best friend right now. Nay. Should be. Instead he's here, in the cold, talking about pumpkin spice.
“Then why am I here?” It comes out harsher than intended, but Dabi doesn't seem to mind, not reacting at all.
After a few seconds, he mutters: “Just felt like hanging out…” The unsaid ‘with you’ rings loudly in Hawks’ ears, heat shooting to his face and tingling in his chest. Maybe…
“If you wanted to go on a date, you could've just said so.” Hawks grins, hoping he looks like he's joking and not as flustered as he feels.
Another long pause in which Hawks begins to shift uncomfortably.
Looking up at Dabi, he does a double take. The healthy parts of the usually unflappable man's cheeks are tinted a slight pink. Could it be-?
Suddenly a look of determination crosses the criminal's face and he stomps closer. His long-fingered hands reach up to grasp Hawks’ face, and then there are lips against his own. For a moment, Hawks’ not sure how to react and once his brain catches up to the situation, Dabi is already distancing himself again.
With butterflies in his tummy and a thundering heart, he reaches out to the retreating man. “Wait…” he mumbles, biting his bottom lip. And this time he's ready when Dabi kisses him again, wrapping his arms around the taller man, pressing closer, wanting to devour him.
When they part, the blonde is out of breath and his face must look like a tomato, but he's happy. Happier than he can ever remember being. A huge grin on his face, he pulls his phone from his pocket to send Rumi a text: ‘It's a date after all :)’