Work Text:
Hawks…does not remember how he got here. Or where here is. Or…a great number of other things he should probably be able to recall. Like what he was doing before this, and if anyone was with him. After several very long moments of trying to see anything at all in the swirling black void where he’s found himself, he realizes that his eyes were closed the entire time. He’s pretty sure he’s laying down. Was he asleep? He does not remember falling asleep. But he doesn’t remember what he was doing, so maybe he was sleeping?
Did he and Miruko go out for drinks?
With a monumental effort, he grabs hold of consciousness and yanks himself towards it. His eyes snap open, and he attempt to propel himself upright, but an instant wave of nausea has him curling in on himself, and he ends up just pathetically flopping onto his side. His vision refuses to focus, and wherever he is, it’s still dark, and the incessant pounding in his head makes it impossible to think straight. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get up.
His body does not listen.
And then an unfamiliar, gruff voice asks, “Hawks? Are you back with me?”
Instinctively, he sends several feathers flying in the direction of the voice, assuming an enemy. But before they can fully detach, something ice-cold slips through his body and his wings go dead.
The world goes quiet.
Hawks blinks. There’s a man standing over him, clad entirely in black, blending in with the shadows surrounding him. His eyes won’t focus enough to make out any distinct features, or even fully separate his figure from the darkness. Fuck. Is this how he dies? Why won’t his wings work? Why won’t his wings work—
“Hawks,” the man says. “Calm down. I’m Eraserhead, an underground hero.”
Eraserhead. Okay, yeah, Hawks recognizes that name. Eraserhead. The guy who can erase quirks with a single look.
A hysterical laugh rips its way out of Hawks’ throat. ERASERHEAD????? Of all people to find him like this, it had to be the one who could force him into an even more vulnerable position—who can rip away the very thing that makes Hawks invincible and render him as weak as any common man. When he first learned about Eraserhead from his tutors at the Commission, the thought of an erasure quirk terrified him.
As Eraserhead kneels at his side, Hawks could be convinced this is a nightmare.
“What happened?” Hawks can vaguely make out the movement if Eraserhead tilting his head from the piercing red glow of his eyes. When Hawks remains silent, he adds, “I’ll release my quirk once I know you aren’t going to attack me.”
Hawks swallows thickly. What happened? What happened? He was…on patrol, or something? No. It’s the middle of the night. He was restless because he couldn’t sleep, so he decided to fly around the city for a while. Right. And then he ran into some villains. And then…
The fight is hazy. He knows there was a fight, but it didn’t last long because…
Ah, shit. One of them had a gaseous quirk that must’ve knocked him out.
“Villains,” he answers vaguely. It’s a difficult enough battle to get his tongue to cooperate for just that one word.
Eraserhead grunts. The red glow dies, and feeling rushes back to Hawks’ wings. The feathers he’d sent after his presumed attacker, which had dropped dead to the ground as soon as his quirk was erased, clumsily reattach themselves to his wings. He’s feeling a bit more steady now that his quirk is working again, but he fails to heave himself into a sitting position because his vision blacks out as soon as he tries.
What the fuck was that quirk he got hit by?
Eraserhead sighs. “Don’t push yourself. You’ll never be able to take care of yourself in this state.”
So are you just going to stand there and look at me? Hawks thinks. He can’t form a sentence that long right now, though, and as soon as the thought has tumbled its way through his brain, Eraserhead is sliding one hand under Hawks’ back, guiding him upright.
“I’d just carry you if it weren’t for those massive wings,” he grumbles. “Annoying.”
Hawks tries for a smile. “‘s part a my charm…”
Eraserhead raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. At least he’s mostly in-focus now. Or maybe that’s just because of how close they are. At least his hand on Hawks’ back is carefully avoiding his wings. He’s not sure he’d be able to prevent an instinctive reaction if Eraserhead were to touch them, and he’s honestly not sure if hurting the guy trying to help him or having his quirk erased again would be worse.
It’s slow-going, but eventually, Eraserhead manages to help Hawks to his feet. He’s leaning heavily against the other man for support, one arm hooked around his neck with the wrist held firmly in Eraser’s grip.
“Where ‘r we goin’?” he mumbles, head resting on Eraser’s shoulder. Standing up was so much effort he’s honestly not sure how much longer he can stay awake. Already, his eyelids are drooping. Between the darkness of the night and his still-fuzzy vision, he can’t quite tell when his eyes are open and when they’re closed. He’s relying entirely on Eraser to drag him in the right direction as he stumbles over his own feet.
It’s kinda funny. His Commission teachers made Eraserhead sound so scary, but now that Hawks has met him, he thinks that—apart from his quirk—he’s a pretty nice guy. Erasure itself is the worst thing Hawks has ever experienced, but the man who wields it has only touched him kindly.
“Just to the main road,” Eraser answers. “Nem— Midnight will pick us up in a car there. I’m not dragging your ass all the way to the hospital like this.”
Hawks snickers. “You’re funny, Eraser.”
“I will drop you right here,” he threatens. But his grip on Hawks remains tight, and he keeps pushing forward despite Hawks essentially being a dead weight. He knows he isn’t light, either, given the two large wings sprouting from his back and the fact that they’re currently at full strength. Eraser must be seriously strong.
“Nuh-uh.” Hawks’ eyes flutter shut. “You wouldn’t.”
Eraser heaves out a sigh. But he doesn’t drop Hawks; he carries him all the way to the street where Midnight’s car is waiting.