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Touya can’t explain why he feels so uneasy sitting in the packed waiting room of his local vet. There isn’t even anything wrong with his sweet girl. She’s lying protectively over his feet as always, service animal vest in place.
It’s a routine check-up, nothing more.
Maybe it’s the papercraft suns and rainbows that have been strung up all over the walls for some spirit week or whatnot. Reminding him just a little bit too much of waking up in a body that felt stiff and too big.
Maybe it’s the wary glances from parents of the small children who whisper and point at the guy with the forearm crutch and high-tech prosthetic arm.
He’d refused the surely exorbitantly-priced piece at first until he was promised it wasn’t Enji who’d footed the entire bill. Which of course left the question of who did. Thing is, Touya can count on exactly one finger the amount of people he knows who might have been able to accomplish such a feat. When he realized, he’d almost been more offended than if it were just Enji’s stupid atonement money.
He doesn’t want anyone’s pity. Least of all from the guy who hasn’t had the balls to speak to him even once in the five years that have passed since the war.
Touya wonders if the parents recognize him. If it’s the piercings he’s finally healed enough to be able to get again, much to the chagrin of more than a few medical professionals. If it’s the scars that, while healthier than when he was Dabi, still mar his flesh in a way that’s oddly comforting. A reminder of what he’s lived through. Of the choices he made and the ones he didn’t.
Sometimes he’ll shoot them a friendly wave, just to watch them squirm.
So, okay. Maybe it’s not a complete mystery. He’s only been allowed to leave the house on his own for about half a year now. Of course he’s going to be a little paranoid. It’s a hard habit him and his therapist have been trying to kick for a long, long time now.
Chica pushes her muzzle into his palm, offering curly tufts of soft brown fur for him to thread his fingers into.
Another name is called. A woman with a small crate walks up to the counter before heading into an examination room. Touya takes a breath. In for three, out for five. Then another. The front door of the vet opens again with a soft jingle, making him glance up instinctively at the noise.
The man stepping inside now also has a crate in one hand, the other reaching up to remove a pair of sunglasses to reveal golden eyes that make Touya’s stomach lurch violently.
He swears his heart skips a few beats entirely.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
You’ve got to be fucking joking.
Leave it to the universe to play such a cruel joke on him as always.
He considers making a run for it. Do them both the favor. But all he can do is sit and stare uselessly as Hawks—HPSC President Takami fucking Keigo—approaches the front desk sporting a harassed but charmingly friendly grin and the ugliest coat Touya has ever seen.
It’s almost comforting to know his fashion sense hasn’t improved whatsoever and he still doesn’t seem capable of growing a full beard.
Touya wishes he could say he hasn’t kept up with what Hawks—Keigo, whatever—looks like these days but that would be a blatant lie. Seeing him in person is another thing entirely, though.
The lack of wings is still jarring even after all this time, the flat fall of his coat over his back making Touya feel sick to his stomach with a swirl of guilt and that familiar simmering anger he just doesn’t have the energy to hold onto anymore.
There’s a weariness that hangs over him like he still doesn’t know what a healthy amount of sleep is, aging him the full five years. But there’s also something undeniably lighter about him. Like maybe he doesn’t mind the early mornings and long nights because they’re finally his choice.
From what he’s heard from Shoto (and okay maybe he’s been internet stalking him a bit, sue him, he has to make stupid decisions once in a while) Mister President has been extremely busy trying to restructure the entire hero billboard charts. Among tens of other philanthropic avenues, not the least of which was the very program that helped Touya and the other surviving League members get access to rehabilitation instead of a life sentence in Tartarus.
He’s always hated how much he feels like he owes Keigo. How undeserving of it he still feels sometimes despite his therapist’s best efforts. How he never even fucking vis—
“You mind if I sit here? Sorry. All the other seats are taken,” A sheepish voice suddenly says to him, unoccupied hand pointing at the seat on the other side of the corner Touya may or may not have been trying to disappear into.
Touya takes another steadying breath, knowing there’s no getting out of this now. Their seats will be practically facing each other and there’s no way Keigo won’t recognize him the second he speaks anyway.
Chica sits up and gives Keigo a sniff, not seeming convinced of his good intentions just yet.
“Hello, beautiful,” Keigo coos, though he seems to clock the service animal vest and thankfully keeps his hands to himself.
Touya opens his mouth to speak and for some fucking reason what comes out is, “What? You rescuing sick baby kittens off the street now or something, birdie?”
Keigo jolts like he’s been shot, eyes going impossibly wide as Touya tilts his head up to look at him.
A pleased feeling curls in Touya’s stomach at the way Keigo just continues to stare, mouth agape. Not that he can blame him. He barely recognizes himself in the mirror some days, though they’ve been getting fewer and farther between.
“D—“ Keigo starts but catches himself. He swallows. Hesitates. “Touya.”
“Keigo,” Touya returns, throat tightening unexpectedly as memories of the last time he called him that try to resurface.
Last time he’d wanted it to hurt. Had wanted to punish him for proving what he already knew to be true of hero society.
This time it feels like a peace offering. One he’s genuinely not sure Keigo will accept from him.
If he didn’t know Keigo better he’d assume any silent acts of kindness from him have been to assuage his own guilt over what transpired between them. To wipe his hands clean of it.
But Keigo is too nice for that. Too kind. Too self-sacrificing. He probably could’ve retired at twenty-four if he’d really wanted to after the Commission’s collapse. And yet . . .
Chica lays her head and a paw on Touya’s thigh, bumping her nose against his hand again. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He gives her a few scratches, letting the thump of her tail against his leg ground him as air doesn’t quite manage to fill his lungs fully.
Looking back up at Keigo who hasn’t stopped staring, eyes still birdlike in their intensity even without his quirk, Touya almost wants to laugh.
“Gonna sit down or not?” Touya prods calmly, enjoying himself maybe just a little bit.
Keigo shakes himself. “You never—“ He huffs, shooting him a look that’s so familiarly petulant it makes Touya’s chest ache. Seeming to accept his fate, Keigo sighs and sits, gently resting the carrier on his lap.
A suffocating silence falls over them.
It’s not like a vet front office is the ideal place for them to talk about. Well. Anything that happened between them, really.
Happy to sit and let him suffer, he’s not all that surprised when Keigo finally breaks the silence.
“A poodle, huh? Always took you for a cat guy.”
Touya just about facepalms. Something in his chest loosens though at the attempt. Proof that Keigo wants to try and reach out. It’s better than he was expecting, to be completely honest.
“I am,” Touya replies, directing a small but genuine smile at Chica as he continues to pet her head. “A cat can’t exactly catch me if my body decides to give out on me though. And Chica here wouldn’t leave my side from the moment she saw me. Felt like an insult at the time.”
He glances back up to find Keigo watching him with a softer sort of surprise. Like he wasn’t expecting Touya to answer truthfully, if at all.
Turning to look at the poodle, Keigo addresses her again. “Hi Chica! What a cute name, huh?”
Touya snorts, not wanting to admit to himself that he might be horribly endeared by him. “It’s short for Fried Chicken.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m serious. Listen when they call us up.”
Keigo looks at her for a moment, considering her curly brown fur and then sighing, seeming to fight off a smile. “Okay. Yeah. I can see how we got there.”
“Careful, he might eat you,” Touya warns the dog.
“I would not!”
Touya shoots him a sideways glance, smirking.
Keigo looks away for a moment, seeming to gather himself before offering him a hesitant smile.
His heart makes a valiant effort to pound right out of his chest as the thought, ‘Oh god I’ve missed the dumb bird,’ fills his head.
There’s a lot of grief there too, and plenty of anger and hurt. They’ll need to talk about everything before he can let them try and move forward. If that’s even what Keigo wants.
But there’s acceptance too.
They both did what felt necessary at the time and now have to live with the consequences. They made their choices then, but maybe they deserve the chance to make different ones now.
Keigo reaches around to open the front of his carrier just enough for Touya to see a scraggly lump of black and white fur he’s pretty sure is a cat.
“Always took you for a dog guy,” Touya says, genuinely surprised.
“I am,” Keigo replies sheepishly. “But this little guy has been hanging around my apartment complex for a while now. Keeps climbing up the fire escapes, the little asshole.”
The fondness in his voice is undeniable.
“I’ve been feeding him for a few weeks now. Figured I should at least get him neutered.”
“Slippery slope,” Touya teases.
Keigo cringes. “Think I sealed my fate when I named him.”
Touya barks out a laugh. “Alright. Let’s hear it then, birdie.”
Keigo blanches and then smothers his face in the top of the crate as he clicks the door back shut. “Oh god, you’re gonna think it’s so stupid.”
“Aww, c’mon. Don’t leave us hanging.”
“Y’know it’s actually really cute her name is Fried Chicken. It’s like you two match—“
Touya rolls his eyes but finds himself starting to laugh, soft and raspy, at the dig. “If anyones the fried chicken here it’s you.”
He panics for a moment, thinking surely this isn’t the time to bring up the worst thing he ever did to him. The one thing he’s wanted to apologize to him for for years now. But Keigo just sighs, smiling in spite of himself.
“Ha. Ha.”
“Come on. What did you name the poor thing?”
“Well I—“ Keigo huffs again, going quiet for a moment too long.
Even Chica seems to sense his sudden shift in demeanor. She sniffs at his leg for a moment, nudging her nose against him in support before returning dutifully to Touya as his heart continues to hammer away in his chest.
“He kinda reminded me of a certain other someone who used to scale the fire escape to my apartment. And he’s got these little white patches around his face and paws so…” Keigo cringes again, cheeks looking suspiciously pinker than before as he shows Touya a photo of the cat on his phone. “Tell me he doesn’t look like a Staples to you.”
Touya snorts so hard it stings his nose. “Staples?”
“Cats get named after inanimate objects all the time!” Keigo defends himself and Touya just laughs harder, chest fluttering as he realizes the sentimental idiot has gone and named the cat after him. After his medical staples.
His eyes sting a little as he catches his breath.
“Careful, he might start getting ideas and come back with a nose piercing.”
Keigo shoots him a glare that’s more pout than anything. “Gonna have to take the knobs off my stove so he doesn’t burn my house down.”
“Not like you use it anyway.”
“Actually…” Keigo starts but trails off, seeming to get distracted looking at Touya. This time he seems to really process the changes in his face. The lack of staples. The studs returned to his nose. The new ones added to his eyebrow and ears.
He’s been considering getting some in his cheeks for old times’ sake but hasn’t managed to get around to it yet. His jaw is busted enough as it is so he’s been a little more hesitant to get any on or near his mouth thus far, though he has kept the tongue piercing.
“I uhh,” Keigo continues, looking steadily more flustered as Touya just grins slowly at him. “Got into cooking a few years ago. Therapist said I needed a hobby. It’s really fun actually now that I know what I’m doing.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, bird brain.”
“You could come over to my place,” Keigo blurts out and then instantly looks like he wants to take the reckless words back.
Not sure why he feels inclined to take pity on him (he knows exactly why), Touya lets him flounder a little longer before replying. “Yeah, pretty bird?”
The lowly spoken pet name makes Keigo’s breath stutter just like it used to five years ago. “I’m sorry— that’s— I’m not—“ Keigo cringes again but doesn’t look away this time, finding a surge of unexpectedly shy determination. “I’d like to talk.”
“That not what we’re doing?”
“Asshole. You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
Keigo huffs, expression turning remorseful. “I’d like to get the chance to apologize. If you’ll hear me out. But not…“ He glances around, cringing and waving apologetically at the disapproving looks he receives from parents and elderly folks for his earlier expletives.
“At a vet?”
His answering smile looks more like a grimace.
Touya’s stomach churns, body prickling with heat despite the quirk canceling cuff he still has to wear. Keigo falls silent, giving him the space to think for which he’s grateful.
It’s a stupid idea. A really, really stupid idea. But when have Keigo and him ever been rational when it comes to each other? He can’t deny that he’s missed him—had maybe even loved him—never quite feeling right without him like his arm wasn’t the only limb he lost in the war.
Touya selfishly likes to believe Keigo feels the same. While he does seem much more at peace than he did before the war, finally free from the Commission’s cage and able to make his own decisions. To be a ‘hero’ on his own terms. To be a catalyst for real, lasting positive change. He still seems so alone. Like he wishes more than anything that he had someone to share it all with.
And that’s a sentiment Touya finds he shares.
His family means the world to him. He would go through it all in a heartbeat to be able to be with his siblings and mom again. Would rip off his cuff and burn anyone who dared lay a hand on them or his beloved Chica, lifetime in Tartarus be damned.
But Keigo saw him for who he was as Dabi. Had lied in bed talking with him until the sun rose, and shared cigarettes on his balcony, and brought him takeout when he couldn’t afford food. Had touched him like something worthy of love and devotion.
So that when the time came for Dabi to make good on every revenge plot he ever crafted against Endeavor, the thought of leaving Hawks behind made him hesitate.
But then he killed Jin. Keigo made his choice and Touya was able to make his, heart broken and bleeding out the hope that had been festering in his chest since he let him get too close. Just more fuel for his funeral pyre.
He’d almost thanked him for cutting that last tie.
“Miss Fried Chicken?” A voice calls out and Touya jolts back to the present, world around him slowly swimming back into focus.
A rough tongue continues licking his hand until he pets brown fur again, whispering reassurances to her that he’s okay.
Chica lets out a huff of air like she doesn’t quite believe him.
Smiling a little, Touya focuses on the softness of her fur, tapping each finger one at a time until awareness returns more assuredly to his body. Prosthetic fingers swipe absently at the moisture that started to gather on his lash lines, still relieved every time his fingers don’t come away bloody. When he feels a little more in control again, he shoots an apologetic wave at the woman waiting for him who just smiles patiently. “Take your time, sir.”
“Think I’ve had enough of that, actually,” Touya mutters to himself, turning to face Keigo who hasn’t stopped looking.
His expression is so earnest and hopeful that Touya almost forgets what he’s supposed to say next (like his answer was ever going to be anything but a yes).
Feeling a little wrong-footed all of a sudden, Touya swallows thickly. “You’re lucky I don’t have any plans tonight.” Not after he sends a very apologetic text to Shoto, anyway. Though he thinks his little brother who’s always been a little too eager to bring up Keigo around him will manage to forgive him.
Keigo’s breath hitches, eyes going wide. “So you’ll—“
Chica stands at Touya’s command, steadying him as he grabs his forearm crutch and pushes himself up onto his feet. “Think you’ve left me waiting long enough, don’t you?”
I’d wait another five years if it meant having you.
“You still like cold soba? I learned how to make and cut the noodles myself,” Keigo replies rapidly, sounding out of breath.
Touya laughs, shooting him a half-lidded look as his heart soars at him remembering. “See you later, Keigo.”
Keigo sucks in a breath, staring openly up at Touya like he hung the stars in the sky. “See you later…Touya.”
Right before the door to the examination room closes he hears Keigo swear to himself. “Shit. How long does it take to get a cat neutered?”
Touya smiles.
He’ll wait as long as it takes.