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The first thing Hawks notices as he steps into the League of Villains' hideout is the tree.
It’s huge, sprawled across the floor like it—or whoever dragged it here—gave up halfway through the job. A real Christmas tree. Beside it, vibrating with barely contained excitement, is Toga—bouncing on her toes, hands clasped tight like some wind-up toy.
Her grin is wide and feral, bright enough it almost hurts to look at—as if the sun itself has grown teeth and become a blood-sucking villain.
“Hawksiee!!” Toga gasps the moment she sees the somewhat stunned hero. “I got a Christmas tree!!”
He blinks once. “Yeah,” he says, slowly regaining his composure. “I can see that.”
“And I told her no,” Dabi mutters from his seat at the bar, not even bothering to acknowledge Hawks' arrival. His glare flicks briefly to Toga, then back to Hawks. “Several times.”
Toga ignores him completely. Hawks does not.
“Hello to you too hotstuff.~” The hero's voice is practically dripping with playful seduction.
If looks could kill, Hawks would surely be dead by now. Not because Dabi is so attractive, but because the flame user’s stare promised consequences he was absolutely asking for. Hawks loves to find his way under the flame user's skin. He loves to annoy the villain and feel the repercussions later on—hell, he looks forward to it.
“But it’ll be so nice once it’s set up!” The teenager insists, pacing around the tree as if it might run away or be set on fire if she goes too far away from it. “Twice will help me decorate it, and then we’ll finally have some Christmas spirit!” She nods firmly to herself. “It’s so sad in here. We need something happy.”
She stops in front of Hawks, arms crossed, lower lip forming an exaggerated pout. Her eyes tilt upward, wide and pleading. It's not often Toga uses her puppy dog eyes—but when she does, it's scarily effective.
Hawks snorts before he can stop himself. A few feathers come loose from crimson wings to shut the door behind him as he steps inside. “I think it’s nice,” he says wholeheartedly.
He reaches out and ruffles Toga's hair as he passes, earning a delighted giggle, then drops onto the seat beside Dabi. “Could maybe get a few mistletoes,” he adds, flashing a playful grin. He winks when Dabi finally looks at him. “Really lean into the holiday spirit, ya know.”
“Yes!” Toga squeals and bounces up and down. Hawks sometimes wonder where all the energy is stored in such a tiny girl. She never seems to run out.
She darts across the room and throws her arms around Hawks from behind, squeezing tight around his neck. “I knew you’d agree, Hawksie! Will you help me get more stuff?”
She pulls back just as quickly, eyes lighting up again. “Oh! And presents too! I don’t have any money, and you’re rich! Will you buy m-, I mean us, gifts?”
Hawks raises a brow at the request. People usually aren't so blunt when it comes to asking for money or gifts.
Toga taps a finger thoughtfully against her lips as she ponders aloud. “Well… I think you’re rich. You should be, since you’re a pro hero and super popular and in sooo many magazines.”
“Money’s not a problem,” Hawks answers honestly, offering her a familiar, effortless smile. “I’ll help however I can. Especially for my favorite girl.”
“We don’t need your money,” Dabi cuts in flatly.
“Yeah, yeah, mister grumpy,” Hawks replies without missing a beat. “Relax. It is Christmas after all, and what is Christmas without gifts?”
“A very sad Christmas.” Toga declares with an exaggerated sigh.
A few downy feathers break loose from Hawks’ wings, quietly floating toward the tree still sprawled across the cold floor. With just a thought, they sweep underneath the trunk and lift it upright in one smooth motion.
Hawks glances around, searching for where it’s supposed to go.
Toga waves enthusiastically to get his attention before darting down the hallway, her laughter trailing after her as she disappears from view.
“Good thing I leave a feather on everyone,” Hawks mumbles under his breath as he gets up from the barstool, the words barely audible.
The smile he’s wearing—the polished and perfect one he was trained to perform at every event, interaction, and public outing, suddenly morphs into something different—something real.
Before he can give the realization more thought, a loud growl fills the room.
“You what?” Dabi can practically feel the flames dancing on his palm, threatening to engulf him and the oversized bird.
Hawks cocks his head to the side, eerily similar to something birdlike.
“Hm?” he hums as gold meets blue—tension fills the air, heavy and almost tangible.
Hawks have always been fond of the color blue. Blue reminds him of the sky, of freedom, and the ocean.
But blue has been permanently altered in his mind now—all he sees is Dabi. His eyes as deep as the ocean, his flames as intoxicating as the feeling of flying after weeks of being shackled to the ground, and that is all he thinks of. Hawks loves the color blue now.
He suddenly snaps out of the trance that is Dabi's eyes and shakes his head. “Gotta go!”
Before the villain can make his annoyance known, Hawks is out of the room and flying towards the room Toga is in. The Christmas tree, still held up by feathers, right behind him.
“Finally, I was waiting forever!” The teenager complains and appears from behind the couch.
Hawks chuckles and looks around the living room. It looks just about the same, except for several cardboard boxes on the floor and tinsel scattered on the couch. “Where do you want the tree, Toga?”
Toga scans the room and taps her finger to her mouth as if in deep thought, as if the placement of the tree actually matters. “There!” she suddenly says and points to the left corner of the room next to the couch. Hawks nods.
They settle the tree into a dented and duct-taped plastic bucket, its base wobbling no matter how much weight Toga shoves in around it. She keeps adding things—rocks, a stack of old magazines, something sharp that clinks against the plastic—until the bucket looks absurdly overfilled.
Hawks crouches beside it, one hand steadying the trunk. He can already tell it won’t hold. The bucket’s warped, the balance off just enough that the tree leans when he lets go.
Toga beams at it anyway, clearly pleased with their work.
He doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he lets a few feathers slip free, barely noticeable as they slide into the bucket alongside the clutter. They brace themselves against the sides, subtle and strong, adjusting just enough to counter the tilt. The tree straightens, standing obediently still.
Toga claps, delighted. “See? It likes us.”
Hawks rises to his feet, hands in his pockets, pretending that’s exactly how he planned it.
“I think I'll name it Matheo.”
When Twice makes an appearance in the doorway, he and Toga waste no time and find anything and everything they can to decorate the tree.
Toga darts around the tree like a delighted menace, hanging ornaments wherever she pleases—too high, too low, occasionally upside down—while Twice argues with himself over whether tinsel should be symmetrical or “emotionally balanced.” Hawks hovers nearby, pretending not to micromanage while quietly nudging branches into place with careful feathers, fixing whatever’s about to collapse without drawing attention to it. Laughter and bickering bleed together as ornaments clink and nearly shatter. A few feet away, Spinner and Shigaraki are planted on the floor, controllers in hand, completely absorbed in their game; Shigaraki curses under his breath while Spinner leans forward, shouting advice he doesn’t follow himself. Somewhere off to the side, half-lit and thoroughly unimpressed, Dabi lurks with his arms crossed, watching the chaos with narrowed eyes like the entire holiday has personally offended him. The room is loud, messy, and oddly warm—Christmas, League-style.