Chapter Text
Bright lights flicker through the windows, shining down on Dabi’s face unpleasantly. He winced slightly, feeling a stabbing pain go through his eyes before turning over and locking eyes with his bad decision from the night before. The villain smiles, knowing he would do it over again if possible.
Hawks lies beside him, one arm draped over Dabi’s waist, the other hand tucked beneath his chin. It’s pleasant, the warmth and security of a bed that isn’t his. The pain in his head is persistent, though, forcing Dabi to sit up gently.
The hero groans. “Lay back down,” he mumbles gruffly, voice still rough from sleep. The villain just runs his hand through Hawks’ hair. He doesn’t want to get up, in fact, he’d much rather stay in bed. Curled up on his side with his arms wrapped around his lover.
God, that word still feels weird on his tongue.
He would never say it out loud, of course. Hawks was just a good time, all of the time, almost every night, and often in the mornings.
Dabi pushes those thoughts away.
The amount of time they spend together has no impact on their “relationship” if it could even be called that.
“I’m getting up, birdie” he whispers gently. He always wakes up early, but today he really needs to get up and out of Hawks’ apartment. This headache isn’t letting up, and Dabi knows himself well enough to foresee the migraine that’s approaching.
It’s not ideal, but it’s a fact of life, more specifically his life and not others’ lives, but that isn’t important. What is important is that he has to leave, but not without making breakfast for his birdie.
“No, please, Dabs, we can eat later, just stay” Hawks begs, curling further into the villain. Dabi just laughs, “You’ll see me soon”, and gets up.
The kitchen is clean, thanks to the hero from the night before. They have a routine. How domestic is that. Hawks knows that Dabi will cook in the morning, granted that the kitchen is tidy. With this calming revelation, the villain gets to work on making pancakes for them both.
His head still hurts, but the hero will catch him if he tries to get pain meds right now, and they won’t be worth the trouble they start.
Dabi enjoyed making more complicated breakfasts for them, eggs were something Hawks could usually make on his own, so they were avoided.
(“Holy shit, what happened in here” Dabi laughed. Smoke was rising through the kitchen from a pan on the stove. Hawks stood by it, coughing like he was trying to puke up a lung. “Woah woah woah birdie, slow down. Come here, let’s get out of this room.”
The arsonist led him to the living room, holding him gently as they walked. “I’m gonna get the pan, stay here. We both know I’m way better at dealing with fires than you are.” Hawks just coughs, still struggling to regain his breath.
By the time Dabi is ready to return, having successfully cleared out most of the smoke by opening a window, he sees eggshells on the counter. He tries to hide a snicker as he walks back to Hawks, failing miserably when the hero makes eye contact and realizes why he was laughing.
“Eggs?” he chokes out between breaths. “You almost burnt your house down, frying your own children?”
Hawks just rolls his eyes. “I’m not a chicken.” he groans.
“You’re a bird, it’s still cannibalism if you’re the same species,” Dabi laughs.
“I’m not a bird either, I’m human!” Hawks yells. This just causes the villain to double over in laughter once more.
“It would be cannibalism if you ate it, you burnt fuck.” The hero grumbles, and Dabi just wraps his arms around his neck, bringing them together once again.)
Making breakfast was enjoyable. Maybe less so today, with the splitting pain right above his left eye. The villain sighed quietly to himself. He could finish these pancakes before his vision started to get really bad. He just hoped that Hawks wouldn’t get up until he was done.
Maybe it was the hero instincts, or the bird instincts, or whatever thing inside of Hawks that gave him the ability to read Dabi like a headline.
No matter how stealthy he thought he was being, the hero would be able to find out that he wasn’t doing great.
He poured the pancake mix and water into a bowl, blending them together until smooth. It didn’t take long for the pan to warm up, but while it did, he got out a cutting board.
Hawks liked strawberries with his breakfast, and Dabi had been cutting up fruit for him for a while now. His vision blurred slightly as he picked up the knife.
He was fine. Completely and utterly fine, he just needed to wake up.
The villain shook his head, increasing the pain drastically. His hand trembled as he cut the strawberries into slices. Fuck would he even be able to finish at this point.
It felt like everything was happening way too soon. Sometimes the numbness in his hands would happen at the same time as the vision loss. This was unfortunately one of those times.
Dabi gripped the counter. He could slice some fruit, it wasn’t a hard task. With this new determination, he wrapped his hands around the knife again, pressing down hard.
The movement sent a dagger of pain through his skull, and he fumbled to keep hold of the knife, accidentally cutting his palm in the process. The side of his hand throbbed as blood trickled onto the cutting board. “Shit” he said sharply, stumbling backwards as he lost his balance.
There was blood on the floor now too. A quick glance down told him that his shirt wasn’t spared from the mess either, leaving red streaks where he had accidentally touched. The blood dripped off his hands in a thick stream. He’d just cut himself a bit. Why was there this much blood?
Dabi wasn’t squeamish, he couldn’t be with the way he was pieced together. But the combination of the migraine and the nausea he was feeling beforehand led him to feel even more lightheaded at the sight of it.
“Dabs?” a hesitant voice asked. Shit Hawks wasn’t supposed to be here. “What’s up birdie? I’m not done cooking yet, you can go back to bed,” he said shakily.
“Oh crap, you’re bleeding hot stuff” the hero gasps, pulling Dabi away from the counter. The villain yelped at the sensation as his head reeled in pain from being moved so fast.
He lowered himself to the floor, shaking as he sat down and tucked his knees to his chin. Tears started to pool in his eyes.
What the fuck was happening.
He just needed to make breakfast and get out, but now he was sitting on a hero’s floor crying like a child. The red hot tears ran down his face, adding to the blood already dripping onto the floor.
“Just give me a second, I’m fine,” he choked out, words bitter and sharp. Spat like poison at the winged hero’s feet.
“Hey, I’m sorry, but you don’t look fine Dabi” Hawks said gently.
“Please just,” he pauses, “just go back to bed, I’ll finish in a second.”
He didn’t want the hero to see him like this, he’d know something was wrong. He’d probably make fun of him if he knew that a migraine was the thing making all these problems.
Fucking pathetic.
His weak body failing him again, rotting him from the inside out.
Hawks sat down beside him, his little wings fluttering at his side. He was nervous. “I’m gonna patch you up at least, you can leave after, but let me clean your hand,” he offered.
Dabi looked up at him, blood streaking his cheeks. “I don’t want that.” he said firmly.
“Please? Let me help.”
Those words break his heart. Hawks doesn’t want to help. He wants to save, he wants to rescue, he wants to cure. Dabi is beyond saving. He will never be cured.
There are limits to what Hawks can do, and the hero will only become frustrated when he learns that this is a recurring issue.
Dabi blinks and realizes that while he was thinking it over, Hawks has grabbed his first aid kit from the hall closet, only a few steps away from where he sits.
The hero silently opens it, pulling out gauze and antiseptic.
“Can I?” he asks softly.
“You don’t have to,” Dabi whispers back.
“I want to,” Hawks reassures, and the villain inhales sharply.
A reality where this hero wants to help him feels unreal. He must be dreaming. There's an angel in front of him, staring with golden eyes at his wounded hand, asking to help.
It’s too much, so much, so much that Dabi has needed for so long.
His head aches, and the numbness is spreading over his hands. He wants to collapse in Hawks' arms but he won’t. He simply gives up his hand to the hero, feeling his chest hurt as he does.
What has he done to deserve this kindness?
Hawks didn’t yell, didn’t get angry, his voice got softer when he saw Dabi hurt. Nothing in him sought to exploit that, to put the villain below him. He got down to his level.
It’s too sweet. Like birthday cake, the sprinkles are stuck in his teeth, the frosting coats his mouth. It feels sticky, his skin is too hot. He is burning, burning out like the candles on top of those cakes.
It takes so much to feel so little all of the time, and everything is crashing into him now.
He chokes, half from the emotional tidal wave washing over him and half from the pain that’s intensifying in his head. His hands are still numb and tingly, he can’t feel the wound, which takes away his grounding technique.
“It’s okay, I’m almost done hot stuff,” Hawks promises easily.
This tone stops when he makes eye contact with Dabi.
“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“I’m okay,” he rasps.
The hand is fine, he can fix that and move on, migraines aren't as easy. Another wave of pain makes the decision for him as he’s forced to curl into himself to escape the small bits of light that have made their way into the room.
“Shhh shhh shhh, talk to me baby. What happened?”
“Headache,” Dabi states plainly. A slight lie, the pain in his head is more than that.
Hawks looks him up and down, “Seems like a bit more than that.”
Dabi groans, turning away and pulling his hand into his lap. This only encourages the hero to come closer, shuffling across the floor until he’s practically in Dabi’s lap.
Hawks thumbs at the small part of his cheek that is still visible, softly running his fingers over the staples. The sensation is nice, slightly painful but calming. However, when Hawks lowers his hand, the villain takes it as his sign to move. It was sweet but the hero has to leave, and so does Dabi.
He’ll crash at the hideout down the street that he claimed for this specific purpose. On the mornings where his birdie isn’t enough to soothe his body into cooperating, he’ll walk down and pass out in the worn out building. Dabi presses his feet against the floor, struggling to stand but still managing to get upright.
“Woah, where are you going, hot stuff?” Hawks asks urgently.
“I’ve got,” he pauses, panting, “things to do.”
It hurts to speak, hurts even more to speak these things. How he’s going to survive walking down a street in broad daylight while missing parts of his vision is beyond him.
The movement of standing causes nausea to rise in his throat. Almost instantly, he’s overwhelmed by the need to vomit, holding a hand over his face. He opens his mouth to reassure the hero again before realizing that he can’t just wait this out.
He’s going to throw up on Hawks' floor if he doesn’t move. Right. Now.
He pushes past the hero, not caring about the fact that it’s too rough. He arrives at the bathroom just in time, leaning in front of the toilet before emptying the contents of his stomach into it. The cold tile digs into his knees, and the world shifts around him.
Bright flashes of color overwhelm him. He’s lost feeling in half his limbs, the other half is so sensitive that Hawks' hand on his shoulder feels like he’s been punched. Dabi recoils, not even aware that the hero followed him.
He can’t see him, blindly reaching to push him away before collapsing onto the floor. He still feels nauseous, but he’s not going to be sick again.
This is just how it goes.
He is stuck in a cycle of pain and fear, just spinning and spinning.
All he wants is to get off this fucked up carousel and go home. Home is away from this, away from prying eyes and reaching hands. Away from loud voices and harsh touches. Home is safe, and cool, and calm.
Home is a winged hero with golden eyes and soft hands. He wants to be with Hawks. But he can’t put that on the hero. Pulling him into this horrible game of hit or miss with happiness.
Hawks doesn’t deserve to deal with this every week, to have to pick him up over and over again. It’s not his fault that he’s here, but it is his problem. And he can handle his own problems.
“Dabs, it’s okay, I’m right here” the hero whispers, cutting through Dabi’s thoughts.
His vision is slowly coming back, but the pounding in his head has increased. It hurts to breathe, but he looks up at Hawks. His face is pinched in concern, eyes focused on him alone.
Hawks looks over the man sitting before him. Sweat covers his body, tears on his face, blood dripping onto his bathroom floor.
He has an idea of what is going on.
Unfortunately, he also suffered from migraines every once in a while and could recognize the warning signs from a mile away.
Dabi obviously couldn’t see very clearly, and the way that he was struggling to control his movements earlier meant that he had likely lost feeling in his hands. The villain looks up at him, fear and shame present in his eyes.
“Sorry,” he chokes out. “I need to go. I made a mess in your house.”
Hawks just leans forward, catching Dabi as he tries and fails to stand.
“Just sit for a second. I’m not mad, you don’t need to apologize. Everyone gets sick sometimes.”
“I’m not sick,” he mumbles, the only thing worse than having a migraine right now would be having an illness. He’d never forgive himself if Hawks came down with something that he gave him.
“Yeah? You having a migraine then?” The hero asks gently.
“Doesn’t hurt that bad. I’m okay really.”
Hawks rolls his eyes, aware that Dabi can’t see him.
“Your vision is all off, and the curtains were closed in the kitchen this morning. I’m not blind hot stuff.”
The villain just scoffs and murmurs, “Yeah, I have a migraine, but I can handle it.”
“Sure you can, now are you ready to go out?”
The best method for taking care of Dabi, who was intent on never receiving help, seemed to be just doing shit and hoping he was weak enough to not protest too much.
The hero picks him up, ignoring the sounds of surprise that come from him as he’s cradled. The arsonist is surprisingly light, and Hawks fights the urge to immediately order food so that Dabi doesn’t feel like he’s starving.
These instincts have always been strong, even when they first met.
(Dabi crawled through the window, ignoring the open balcony door that Hawks had so graciously left ajar.
“Hey birdie, good to see you.” He smirks, sitting down on the couch and kicking his feet onto the coffee table.
“What are you doing here? We don’t even have a meeting.” Hawks said exasperated.
He does move closer to the villain though, practically cuddling with him when Dabi turns to face him.
He moves his legs so that he’s facing the hero, clearly showing that he’s open to whatever Hawks wants to do. So he obliges and puts a hand under the villain’s torso, surprised when he feels every bone in his spine sticking out like daggers.
Hawks knew Dabi was skinny, not missing the way that he shook slightly in the cold despite having a fire quirk, and the way his clothes never seemed to fit quite right.
His discovery is only cemented by the way that the villain's stomach growls between them. Dabi’s face turns red when Hawks goes to look at him, avoiding eye contact.
“You hungry hot stuff? It’s about time for me to eat too.”
The villain rolls his eyes.
“I’ll just order us some food, you good with chicken and rice?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” It’ll be delivered soon, but the hero hates the idea of Dabi being hungry in his house when he has the ability to feed him.
A warm feeling spreads through him when he sees Dabi relax after eating the food an hour later. He doesn’t miss the way the villain mumbles thank you and finishes his meal quickly.)
Unfortunately, Dabi is still frail despite all of Hawks' efforts to make sure that he ordered food for both of them around the time that the villain usually stopped by.
Dabi groans, his head still pounding as he gets carried to Hawks’ bed. The hero sets him down gently, making sure that it’s on the cooler side of the bed to ease the pain Dabi is likely feeling from the numbness.
“I’ll be right back,” he reassures calmly before walking to the kitchen.
He has to shuffle through the freezer before finding a cool ice pack, the constant injuries he gains while on patrol make these a necessity.
He also grabs painkillers, a heating pad, water, and a lavender candle that Dabi really likes. He liked to light it when the villain’s insomnia reached unbearable levels, but it might be helpful now as well.
Dabi, thankfully, hasn’t moved from where Hawks sat him down. He lets the hero fuss over him for a bit, shivering whenever he gets touched. Like comfort is so foreign that his body can’t accept it.
He takes the pills without complaint or any water, which causes Hawks to scowl and hand him the glass he brought. After forcing the villain to drink some, it gets set on the nightstand while the hero continues to set things up.
He puts the ice pack on Dabi’s head and the heating pad on his feet before turning to him again and asking a question.
“You know that candle that helps you sleep? Do you wanna use it now? I can light it and leave it across the room so the smell isn’t too strong.”
Dabi just shrugs before whispering, “You’ve done enough birdie, I’m okay.”
Hawks just sighs, “I’ve done a few things, and this one thing will help, so would you like it?”
“Yeah, okay, won’t hurt” he complies, figuring it’s easier to just let it happen. The hero runs his hand through Dabi’s hair, only stopping to light the candle and crawl into bed beside him.
The villain freezes.
He didn’t even expect Hawks to give him Tylenol, let alone stay with him while he was practically immobile. It’s not like he was able to offer the hero anything like this.
The ice pack slips to underneath his head when Hawks shifts them both. His thoughts slowing when a gentle hand returns to his hair, Hawks is cradling him to his chest and using his fingers to gently scratch at Dabi’s scalp.
Between the cool relief on the back of his skull and the soothing motions on his forehead, the villain relaxes. He melts into the mattress, arms and legs going limp as he gets closer and closer to sleep.
“It’s alright, Dabs, you can sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” He just sighs, slipping farther and farther away from reality as he lies in the hero’s arms.