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Hawks' apartment was simple. A single door opened to a regular-sized kitchen across from a quaint living room. Another door, adorned with absolutely nothing, led into the only bedroom. Which was somehow even more bland. The closet was nothing but hero costumes and clothing from sponsored brands. A large box filled with selected fanmail and gifts lay open in the corner of the room. The only thing of slight interest was a wooden desk next to the curtainless window; dusty books stacked next to dollar store pens and a wall shelf with a dead succulent. A dead succulent.
Dabi held the pot, cringing at the remains. How did he manage to kill a succulent?, he thought. Even Toga could manage the plants at whatever home they phrogged. He placed the pot down gently, not trusting Hawks to properly nail a shelf to the wall. His hands wandered to the books, the only unclean items.
At least the hero could keep the place sanitary. Too sanitary, in Dabi's opinion. It was as if the apartment was unused. But Dabi was sure this was his place; he confirmed it with Skeptic's hidden cameras to stalk him. Eventually, along with following the hero a couple times (hiding his presence in busy streets), he was able to pin it down to this apartment building in Fukuoka.
It was nothing special. An unremarkable apartment in an equally unremarkable building. Even the lobby was minimalistic (not that Dabi went inside. He observed from the ground floor, and proceeded to climb the fire escape to Hawks' window.). It was shocking how little security the building had, knowing the number two hero resided here. Or maybe they don't know. Dabi hoped to find a copy of his lease in the desk or closet, get a glimpse of Hawks' real name. The books were interesting though - a few copies of ReDestro's manifesto along with a handful of political commentaries. It was heavy reading, and judging by the dust he had finished the books some time ago. It was certainly not what Dabi expected the 22-year-old to be interested in.
He placed the books down, eyeing the king-sized bed, the only sign of some financial self-indulgence. Until Dabi eyed the loose threads and small tears in the bedding. Seriously? Dabi grazed the neat, cheap microfiber duvet, a plain grey with a strong smell of detergent.
Eyeing the digital clock on the desk, Dabi noted he still has three hours until the end of Hawks' patrol. He sighed loudly at the thought of returning to the league currently hiding out at PLF headquarters. Skeptic freaked him out, muttering to himself and chewing with his mouth open. Toga and Twice were far too restless nowadays, gossiping about the new villains they met. He peeked into the living room, where there's a couch so clean and soft it could be sold at a designer furniture store and a TV unused. Dabi figured his plans for the evening.
An unpleasant odor hit Dabi in the face after he climbed up the fire escape again a week later. He paused, listening for any sign of movement, which couldn't be Hawks. No, Hawks was being livestreamed on the TV that was currently left on a news channel. Some group of idiots dressed as minions raided a building while Hawks laughed his ass off (And the news reporter criticizing his lack of action). The movement belonged to a purring furball with round eyes and fish breath.
Biscuits made on the duvet led to even more loose threads than Dabi could handle witnessing.
"…Hello." Dabi remained on the windowsill as the cat meowed back, falling over to display their tummy. That was easy. Lucky for the cat, Dabi had a soft spot for strays.
And it seems so did the hero. The cat was scrawny and had a scar along its hind leg. The calico coat was matted somewhat, as though someone had tried to brush it and gave up. Dabi figured that's exactly what happened, as he spotted the hair brush still full of fur next to two metal dog bowls. Far too big for the cat, barely over three kilograms (read: seven pounds). As Dabi scratched behind the ears, the cat purred loudly, paws digging into the microfiber.
"You're lucky your new owner doesn't care for interior design." He earned a lick on his palm, "Well, I guess when you're this cute, you can get away with anything."
He walked to the kitchen, the cat following him with soft meowing. "I see where the smell comes from."
On the counter, there were two bags of dried cat food as well as open cans of various wet food brands. Dabi could imagine Hawks walking into a pet store having done no research, getting frustrated, and deciding to buy everything. He snickered to himself, before turning to the cat and calling them spoiled. He sat on the couch, letting the calico climb and rub all over his lap. The TV was obnoxiously loud, having moved onto corny commercials and shitty TV show teasers. Maybe it was the long night listening to Toga's crime podcasts or getting crossfaded with Spinner at 2 AM, but before Dabi knew it, his eyes had drifted shut into a dreamless slumber.
Dreamless because his sleep was disturbed by the slamming of a door and a feather at his throat.
"Fuck." Dabi groaned, rubbing his eyes awake. He felt a light weight picked up from his lap, presumably from the angry bird staring him down.
"What the fuck, Dabi? The hell are you doing here?" Hawks' sharp tone dragged Dabi out of his drowsiness. What the hell was he thinking, letting himself fall asleep on his enemy's couch. His really comfy couch. That he doesn't even use.
"It's a waste, really." Dabi was mainly talking to himself. The feather yielded from his throat and the deadly look in Hawks' eyes shifted to concern.
"What?"
"Your couch. Its nice." Dabi slurred as he leaned his head back against the cushion, manspreading like he staked a claim on it, "Y'know, you really shouldn't leave your window unlocked if you come in through the front door."
Hawks sighed in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face, "Yeah, I leave it unlocked for emergencies, not for your bum ass to climb in."
Dabi picked his head up, "'Bum ass'? You're on Twitter too much." It was shit Toga would say while on her hourly doom scrolls. "Besides, don't you have like a shit ton of fans? Who says they can't figure out where you live and break in? You have no security cameras." His head whirled around the apartment before he whispered to himself, "It's kinda crazy if you ask me…"
"Well, I didn't ask. And usually people don't think to climb into a random window on the 20th floor." Hawks flopped on the sofa next to Dabi, "I thought it was just Skeptic watching me, I wasn't expecting you too."
Dabi turned to grab the calico from Hawks' arms, "Yeah, I got my eye on you, birdie."
Hawks didn't respond for a moment, before he decided to take the cat back, "Are you trying to steal KFC? What's your deal?"
Fucking hell. "You named that shit KFC? Like, the fucking fried chicken place?"
"Yeah? I like fried chicken, that's like my whole thing." Hawks had the audacity to look genuinely confused. "And don't call her 'that shit', it's insulting. The hell is wrong with you?"
Loaded question, Dabi thought, and Hawks seemed to agree. He looked at Dabi expectantly, and Dabi realized he sort of owes Hawks an explanation.
"Bored." Dabi said simply, leaning back to close his eyes. He didn't need to open his eyes to imagine Hawk's dumbfounded expression.
"Ran out of street villains to burn alive?" Hawks sat up, moving to the kitchen. KFC returned to Dabi's lap. "If KFC ends up liking you more than me, I'm turning you into the police."
"Streets are full of trash." KFC was hoisted into the air by Dabi wearing a smirk, "But you are not so trashy."
Behind the couch, Hawks audibly shuddered, "Ew, I never thought I'd hear you say something nice. Ugh."
Another week went by before Dabi paid KFC a visit. Yes, that was his excuse now.
"So, are you on a budget or something?" Dabi leaned against the kitchen counter, twirling a soggy cigarette between his fingers. His climb up to Hawks' apartment was interrupted by autumn rain. His jacket covered enough of his skin to not let water drip into the staples on his skin, but the open pocket drenched his precious taro-flavored cigarettes. Smuggled from China but a guy Toga knew who knew a guy. He probably needed to talk to Toga about being in contact with random drug dealers as a founding member of the league.
Hawks sat on the floor petting KFC as she ate her dinner, having finally figured out her favorite food brand.
"No? Why do you ask that?" Hawks stood up to stand next to Dabi, who eyed the open cabinets like they personally offended him.
"…This is sad." A warped nonstick frying pan, one saucepan with no lid in sight, three forks laid out, and a spatula with a chopped off corner. Somehow. Dabi leaned his chin in his hand, investigating the crime scene.
"How is that sad? I'm one guy, this is everything I need." Hawks crossed his arms over his chest defensively.
"You don't even have a spoon?"
"I don't eat soup like that. If I want it, I'll order it."
"You dumbass, that's not the only thing you need a spoon-" Dabi groaned loudly, "Y'know what, nevermind."
Hawks watched half in amusement and half in concern as Dabi made his way to the desk in his bedroom, grabbed a pen and scratch paper, as if the man were settled in. Hawks blinked to himself. It was scary, but for a moment there (several moments), Dabi didn't feel like a villain he was meant to be buttering up for an infiltration.
The sound of pen scribbling on paper broke Hawks' train of thought.
"First, you need to throw out the nonstick. Fucking atrocity." Dabi gestured with his hands in a way Hawks had never seen before, and he guessed this is how Dabi acted over something he was genuinely passionate about. He stayed silent, filing every passing second into a special drawer in his memory, "Get a cast-iron skillet. Take care of it, and your great-grandchildren will thank you. A heavy-bottom saucepan, tri-ply, will do you justice." Scribble, scribble. "Not whatever that aluminum shit in your cabinet is. I agree with not having a lot of pots and pans. Quality over quantity is the way to go. You only need a few to go a long way. However, you not only have barely enough to scrape by, you also have bullshit."
Hawks watched in stunned silence as Dabi went through his empty drawers.
"Damn, you don't even have tongs? The fuck do you cook?"
"I use the spatula."
"For noodles?"
"…Yeah? I mean I don't really make noodles often. The spatula does the trick though so, is it really that big of a deal?"
Dabi turned from behind the opened cabinet door to face Hawks, who sported a sheepish expression. His hand scratched the back of his head, and his wings fluttered lightly, the red color matching the slight blush on his cheeks. Hawks was… flustered?
That's new. Dabi closed the cabinet door, walking into Hawks' personal space. Up close, the golden irises seemed to glitter under the kitchen lights. Dabi didn't speak for a moment, letting Hawks question his intentions without so much as a flicker of emotion on his face. The only change was the widening and contracting of his pupils, which was, for some reason, mesmerizing to watch. Hawks opened his mouth to speak, but only a pathetic noise escaped.
Dabi raised an eyebrow, setting the wretched spatula down next to where he pushed Hawks against the counter, "What is it, feathers?"
"…Did you grow up rich or something?"
"Excuse me?"
"How else would you know so much about kitchenware? Like, what the fuck is a tri-ply? Is that not referring to fancy toilet paper?" The blush drained from Hawks' face as he recovered from his moment of weakness. He picked up the piece of paper Dabi scribbled in and shoved it into the other's face, "You're like, Gordon Ramsay if he was emo."
Dabi pushed Hawks' hand out of his face, "This is standard shit, man. You're the moron here. Did you grow up in a hut or something?"
And just like that, Hawks showed another moment of weakness. Face contorted and glitter no longer lingering in gold.
"…Kinda?" Hawks was… avoiding eye contact? What?
"Damn, birdie. Was not expecting that from our number two hero." Time to get more info. Dabi couldn't get too comfortable afterall. A lazy smirk rested on his face as he asked, "From rags to riches, yeah? How come you don't talk about your childhood, then? I bet the people would love to hear about the humble origins of Japan's sweetheart."
Hawks' face hardened into a mask eerily similar to his hero one, much to Dabi's dismay. Yeah, in hindsight, he could've been smoother.
"Nice try."
As the orange leaves on trees shriveled up and fell to the floor, Christmas lights lit up the streets of Fukuoka. It was simultaneously Hawks' favorite and least favorite time of year. Colder temperatures and snowed-in work days off meant less crime. More time for Hawks to indulge in street food and interact with the people of Fukuoka.
He patted the pocket of his jacket, where a little girl's (attempt at a) drawing of a red-tailed hawk resided. He returned the gift with a feather he had shed off, smiling as the girl's face lit up. Truthfully, in moments like that, he couldn't care less about approval ratings or if anyone saw his kind acts. All he wanted was to see the smile on a kid's face as they wandered the snowy streets, the excitement of a street vendor with slow business realizing the number two hero cared enough to try his products, and what that could mean for future sales (considering everywhere Hawks went ended up on a list of "Must-Trys in Japan!").
The holidays were lonely. Especially for Keigo.
But this year was a little better. Hawks checked the time on his watch, counting down the hours 'till he could see KFC and surprise her with a tiny christmas hat his sidekick gifted.
Hawks had gotten better at providing for KFC. Dabi's comments on the bleak state of his kitchen inspired him to do more research. He had at first let her play with feathers he controlled to tease her, but realized she might attack his wings one day thinking they're toys. So, for the first time ever, he splurged. Just about maxed out his credit card the HPSC gave him.
"So, you're spending all of this money… on a cat?" Madam President had questioned with raised eyebrows, hands crossed over her desk. He spotted his credit card statement balance printed on her desk and laughed nervously.
It was so out of character for him. The HPSC had given him his necessities since he was taken. A room with air conditioning, a window, and a bed. Space to store his training uniform and hero costume. Three or more meals a day (depending on how well he performed that day). Vitamins to ensure his wings grew steadily. He had never desired anything else.
"Did you grow up in a hut or something?" His wings twitched in discomfort. Was he that obvious? What was he missing? Other than some fancy ass pots and pans.
But he knew what KFC was missing: a larger litter box, sturdy scratching posts, a window perch so she can eavesdrop (he would still leave the TV on for her. Just in case), string toys, and biweekly visits to a local groomer for nail clipping. God bless Reddit.
Red feathers fluffed up to provide insulation against a sharp, cold wind. It was hard for Hawks to scope out crime in snowy weather like this. He perched himself on a construction crane, where winter air bit at his face despite the coverage his wings provided. His breath came out in slow white puffs. Against his will, his bird quality made him drop a few degrees to conserve energy, which made it difficult for him to spend energy excessively. So, he moved to a rooftop with less wind. He had to pick his battles carefully after all.
And speak of the devil, after a while on the rooftop, his feathers had picked one for him.
"Long time, no see, hotstuff." Hawks felt heavy boots stepping in his direction and recognized them instantly.
"Miss me?" Hawks snorted in response to the raspy voice.
"Yeah, you wish." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dabi light up a cigarette with a lit finger, "Guess the snow isn't enough to make you quit."
"Are you kidding? This is the perfect weather to smoke. All depressing and shit." Dabi let out a large breath that was somehow entirely all smoke, no fog. Interesting.
Hawks pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, placing it on his lips. He took a huff, and coughed in surprise, "Why's it taste like that?"
"Apparently, it's milk tea inspired. Now give it back, this shit ain't cheap." Hawks let out an unsure laugh as he held the cig away from Dabi, not believing the edgelord would smoke some shit like milk tea, "…It's Toga's."
Hawks threw his head back in a cackle, handing it back after taking another puff, "Sure it is."
A scowl, and then a soft laugh.
Once again, the both of them found themselves lost in the moment, whatever mission or goal they're aiming for put on the backburner. Dabi leaned on the rooftop wall Hawks was perched on, staying silent to let Hawks keep watch over the streets below. The hero was the first to break the silence of twenty minutes.
"Your body runs cold, doesn't it?"
The finished cigarette body fell from Dabi's scarred fingers to litter the white floor.
"The fuck are you on about?"
"You don't have a visible breath. Usually that would mean something very bad, but you seem fine." Hawks sat to face Dabi, body language reading as casual as possible - hooded eyes, relaxed shoulders, and a soft smile. He didn't want to set Dabi on edge, "Well, as fine as you can be after smoking half a pack a day."
Dabi stayed quiet, pulling out another milk tea from his pocket, struggling to light this one. For some reason. Hawks makes a comment about his own body temperature running warmer than the average human due to being part-bird, which seems to get Dabi's attention for a grand total of two seconds. Hawks then decided to drop the topic, fluffing up his wings to gather more heat.
"Come to my place again. KFC misses you." Olive branch extended.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all shops and stores were still open because it is not considered a holiday in Japan. But Hawks was determined to treat it like one. Since adopting KFC, he decided to work hard enough to request the HPSC he has Christmas Eve and Day off. It's the first time he had ever requested two days in a row, and was fully expecting it to be denied. Alas, he was gifted a Christmas miracle.
For Dabi, too, who had been freezing his ass off in the streets of Fukuoka in an effort to avoid Toga's truth or dare challenges. It didn't take long for him to climb up a certain fire escape and into the warmth of a small, not-so-plain-anymore apartment.
"It's like you moved into a cat' apartment, not the other way around." Dabi snickered, teasing KFC with a string toy.
Hawks rolled his eyes, pulling out the forbidden nonstick pan he hadn't bothered to replace. Some shitty American reality TV show was streaming on the television. Something about an island and finding love. Hawks tuned in every now and then when the drama started.
Hawks felt Dabi walk around his apartment before peeking over Hawks shoulder. What he didn't feel was Dabi's face falling.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Hawks furrowed his eyebrows, holding up the pan, "Fucking steak. What do you think it is, dipshit?"
"Oh my god. In a nonstick pan? At a simmer? That is not how you make steak, what the fuck?"
"I put salt and butter on it, it'll taste good."
"That shit is raw. You're not even cooking it, you're hardly warming up the pan!"
"Yeah, I can't put the heat up 'cause-" The hero gestured to KFC, who's oddly focused on the flames. She made a movement towards it with her paw, only for Hawks' feather to push her away. The two men stared at her as she jumped at the sight of her own tail.
"Did she hit her head or something?"
Hawks sighed, "No… Maybe… I don't know. The more I turn up the heat, the more she tries."
"Why don't you lock her up while you cook?" Dabi suggested, only to earn a furious look by the hero, "Not like a cage, but maybe your room?"
"It's not that serious." Um? "We prefer our meat cooked this way anyways."
"We?" Dabi gagged as Hawks placed the pink meat on a cutting board to slice into cubes. There was hardly a tint of brown to the steak that Dabi almost swore he saw take a breath, "Yeah, so, that's fucking raw."
"Hey, man, I would do more but the meat would lose its flavor if it's not a little rare. " Hawks shoved a piece into his mouth, myoglobin dripping down his chin. Dabi watched in horror.
"Hawks, the muscle is twitching. That's not a little rare." So the hero is a carnivore, good to know.
"You crash into my apartment and judge my cooking skills? No steak for you."
"Thank fucking God."