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Hawks was not an emotional man.
You don’t make it this far into pro hero work by being emotional, after all. If he’d reacted to all the dead bodies and dismembered body parts he’d seen in his first year of hero work, he would have earned himself a ticket to group therapy with the majority of people in the HPSC building. In general, Hawks was most definitely not an emotional man.
But there comes a fucking point.
For starters, his train had been cancelled. A small thing, for sure, but he liked to think it was symbolic of the bitch of a day he was about to have. He could have flown, but he already had exhausted wings from a recent increased number of patrols. So, naturally, due to the train, he’d arrived at the HSPC late, which prompted a very angry tirade from his handler.
Handler.
Hawks hated that word. It made him sound like a child - or an animal. Not the Number 2 Hero.
Anyways, his handler had insisted on putting him through an excessively taxing series of workouts to “make up for it”. How exactly a late train would lead to his physical strength being depleted, he had no idea. In fact, he was pretty sure it was impossible, leading him to pin the reason for the over-the-top exercise on his handler’s own bitterness that he could be so “lax” about punctuality.
However, that was something to unpack for another time.
Cue afternoon patrol. Of course, Hawks arrived completely physically drained, with a pounding headache and aching all over. What more could the universe possibly inflict on him, you ask?
A whole fucking lot, apparently.
That’s right. The universe had unfortunately decided that on top of his physical pain, it had to add a whole truckload of mental turmoil on top. Why, on this day of all days, did he have to witness an innocent child get flattened by a building, he questioned. Riddle me that, universe. Riddle me that.
By the time evening rolled around, Hawks was very much ready to go home. But of course, the Hero Public Safety Commission wouldn't let that happen. Long story short, Hawks had been called into a meeting with the president.
Not a pleasant one.
Honestly, he… wasn’t really paying attention. What he did catch of it, however, did nothing to boost his already shitty self-esteem. A couple choice phrases he noted were “dropping approval ratings”, “looking tired lately”, and, perhaps worst of all, "disappointing performance.”
A weaker man would have broken down on the spot.
Not Hawks though. No, Hawks had the amazing emotional resilience to last until he reached his flat. Never mind the fact that he rushed out of that meeting without a proper goodbye. Never mind the fact he had to fly there because his whole train service was cancelled. Never mind the fact that he felt like he was about to collapse. At least he could go home and cry in peace.
Joking, of course he couldn’t.
Mainly because there, standing outside his door, in his long-ass coat and his mischievous-ass smirk, was Dabi.
Fucking Dabi.
Hawks barely got near the door before bursting out, “What in the ever loving hell are you doing here?”
Dabi raised an eyebrow, “Just paying my favourite heroic contact a visit.”
“What do you want?” Hawks snapped in response.
“Jeez, okay. Straight to the point. I don’t even get invited in?”
“There is no world where I would willingly invite you into my flat.” Hawks retaliated, though it came out slightly weaker than he hoped. He brushed past Dabi, retrieving his key from his pockets and attempting to jam it into the keyhole.
Unsuccessfully.
Oh god. Not fucking now. Not now, Hawks internally begged himself. This could not be the last straw. A fucking keyhole? Unfortunately, he could already feel the familiar sting of tears in his eyes, and an unwelcome jamming in his throat. Not here. Not in front of him. Seriously?
“Ouch,” Dabi clutched one hand over his heart in mock-hurt. “Anyways…”
Hawks could vaguely hear him talking about something to do with information and the HPSC, but he was more preoccupied with trying to stop tears from clouding his vision as he continued to shove the key into the keyhole (and miss). Fuck.
“So I was thinking- hey, birdie, you good?”
“What?” Hawks tried to snap through tears. “I’m fine.” It came out sounding slightly pathetic.
“You don’t look like it.”
Of course. Of fucking course.
Of course Dabi had to say that, because there was nothing that made Hawks feel worse than being told that he didn’t look fine. The crying had properly started. At least he was turned away.
Not for long, though.
Dabi smoothly sidled his way round next to Hawks, trying to get a look at his face.
“You sure? Because, I swear, if you collapse on me- shit!”
Ahh. That was that then. Hawks’ worst enemy, the individual that managed to piss him off the most, had seen him crying like a teenager.
Fuck you, universe.
“Oh, shit, you’re actually crying.”
“F-Fuck you, asshole.” Hawks managed to choke out, before finally, finally, sliding his key into the door and managing to open it. Without even missing a beat, he fled inside, thankful to finally be free of Dabi, and collapsed on the couch, breaking down completely. Crying. No, sobbing.
So why, why, did Dabi have to walk in five seconds later?
Shit. He must have left the door open. Of course Dabi had to walk in. Of course he couldn’t just leave it. Nosy asshole.
Upon seeing Hawks as a crying, distraught mess on the couch, his jaw (literally) dropped open. His brain (not literally) short circuited. How the hell was he meant to deal with this?
“Dammit, are you okay?” the words slipped out of him without thinking.
Hawks looked up, realised who was standing in front of him, let out a noise between a squeak and a yelp, turned an embarrassing shade of scarlet, and resorted to his only remaining protective measure.
Which was to draw his thick, red wings across his face and body, hiding him as much as possible from Dabi.
Yup, it was official. He had reached new levels of humiliation.
Dabi’s eyes widened in horror. “Shit- wait- don’t hide-”
From his perspective, this was probably equally as mortifying. How was he meant to deal with this.
Dabi sighed, and sat down on the couch next to the impromptu pair of red curtains.
“Hey. Bir- Hawks. Come on. Don’t hide from me. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. Just… try me,” there was a pause. “...and I’ll leave if you want me to.”
The wings rustled reluctantly. Then:
“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“Tell anyo- of course I won’t fucking tell anyone!” Dabi gaped.
Well, if the breakdown was the flood gates, then Dabi’s promise had just opened them. Hawks unfurled his wings and crashed into Dabi, wrapping his arms around, his head tucked under his head, sobbing incoherently about “patrols” and “the HPSC”.
Dabi froze. How could you not freeze? He’s never been one for physical touch, much less like this. Hawks’ wings are brushing his sides, sending a strange tingling through his body, and the intimate position they’re in is worryingly comfortable. Eventually, his brain recovers enough to process what he just heard.
The HPSC.
It’s always the fucking HPSC.
His eyes darkened. He looked down at the crying form in front of him.
“They did this to you?”
“Th-They didn’t… th-they just- I-” Hawks stammered through blurry tears.
“Hey, it’s okay,.” the comfort slipped out of him surprisingly easily. Those bastards.
“I’m sorry-”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I.. I just couldn’t fucking do it anymore.”
“I get it.” Dabi said quietly. Hawks snapped. We all do. He hesitated. Thought about it. Then slowly, carefully, ran his hand gently over one wing.
Hawks let out an involuntary gasp at the touch. Throughout the years, people have preened, cleaned, and manhandled his wings to get him media-ready, but no one's ever touched him like this. Softly. Gently. He paused for a second, unsure, then gave in with a relieved whimper, arching into Dabi’s hand.
“Hey, don’t worry. It’s okay.” Dabi soothed, running his hand through the supple feathers, other hand looping around Hawks’ waist. When the fuck did I get so… domestic?
After a few minutes, the crying faded, though tear tracks still showed on Hawks’ face. Neither man moved from their position. It was almost ludicrous. Two sworn enemies, firmly on different sides of the war, cuddling on a couch like a married couple.
What the hell am I doing?
That was Dabi’s last thought before falling asleep. Hawks’ last thought?
I’m going to regret this in the morning.