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Hawks is nothing if not prepared. He’d make for a pretty cruddy spy/hero/hitman/villain(?) if he wasn’t. Whatever it was that his job title was—which, to be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure either anymore, it all kind of falls under the umbrella of being a hero, right?—he’d be prepared. Fierce Wings isn’t his only versatile trait.
Tonight, he was prepared to stay awake. What happened in that last meeting with Dabi could absolutely not happen again. It just couldn’t. The HPSC would actually fry his ass.
He shivers, remembering Madam President’s disappointment at his reported lack of progress and his handler’s threats of potential requirements for remedial training. That image of her supercilious stare was burnt into his mind.
But if she’s so concerned about progress, why haven’t there been any improvements made to his scheduling? All the usual patrols, modeling gigs, and random publicity panels or press conferences on top of all the spy work were not doing his shaky sleeping schedule any favors. Before this new mission, he’d been getting spoiled with an average of 4-6 hours per night. Not that he’d even realized it at the time. Now, he was lucky to get that time in throughout the span of a couple days.
Hawks was never one to complain, and he knows he owes the HPSC for saving him from his previous nightmare of a fate. He’s a hero now! He gets to live his dream. But while he may be a hardworking guy, despite a certain fire-wielding villain’s bird insinuations, he was only human. Everyone has limits, and Hawks had to reluctantly admit that he was beginning to reach his own here.
But surely he’d be able to outrun this for a little while longer? He wasn’t coined the fastest hero for nothing, after all. And good heroes endured hardships, they were strong. They don’t buckle from such trivial things. Hawks thinks of the expressions of immediate gratitude and relief he'd seen on the faces of civilians whenever he arrived at the scene of a crime. He’d be a good hero, too. He was.
Thus, his preparations. He’d made a quick trip to the nearby convenience store and picked up a bunch of energy drinks. As he surveys them back at his apartment, a pit of dread fills his stomach. He arranges them in order of the colors of the rainbow.
Okay, maybe 8 is excessive. But he was tired. And all the colors were so pretty, tucked neatly on the shelf, metal cans sparkling under the lights, that he’d kept picking them up. What was the daily recommended dose of caffeine, again? It was 7 of these things, he decided. The 8th could be backup. He probably had some sort of a tolerance built up to caffeine at this point anyway, with the amount he’d already had to consume to stay coherent these last few weeks.
Hey, maybe his bird metabolism would mesh perfectly with all this! Or he’d like.. blow up or something? Get heart palpitations? Usually, he just sticks to canned coffee, but his PR team kept bugging him about it, something about there being too many paparazzi shots of him holding them..? Apparently, the public was getting worried about him, even going so far as to start requesting he take a break from work. He’d received an angry phone call yesterday from the Commission about a slight dip in his public approval rating because of it. He honestly didn’t know what they wanted him to do, it’s either caffeine or sleep, and God knows he wasn’t going to get the latter. Energy drinks it is, then. And it’s not like he’s really got a choice here unless he wants to get turned into karaage later during the meeting.
“Dabi didn’t light you up that last time, though..,” a traitorous voice whispers from the back of his mind.
He sighs loudly in the echoing silence of his empty apartment, the awaiting cans in front of him as his only audience.
None of that matters, what’s certain is that he isn’t going to these meetings to sleep or anything else, he needs to successfully infiltrate the League and save Japan. The weight of these ever-growing expectations crashing down on him from the Commission rests heavily upon his shoulders. But he was a hero. He wouldn’t break from something like this. Couldn’t. Shaking away his thoughts, he turns his attention to the cans in front of him.
He cracks open the red one.
Dabi is leaning against the wall of yet another abandoned building, waiting for the bird to show. He checks his phone screen. He’s early. But usually Hawks is earlier, so where was he? Before he could wonder further, he’s hit with a gust of wind as red feathers flash through his vision and the hero is suddenly standing in front of him.
“Always with a dramatic entrance,” the villain grouses, pushing himself off the wall.
“Hey!” Hawks says brightly.
“You’re late.”
Hawks checks the time.
“No, I’m right on time, actually,” he pronounces with a mock salute. “But it’s weird that you’re early! You feeling alright, Dabs?”
Dabi narrows his eyes at the name.
“Never better.”
“Great! Me neither.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to, I’m telling you!”
“Uh-huh.”
Hawks grins, entirely unbothered. But it really was strange that Dabi had arrived before him. Next time, he’d have to leave earlier, he supposes. He likes being able to survey their meeting locations a bit prior to their little exchanges, just in case. It helps take the edge off his nerves. Not that he was nervous or anything. A good hero faces danger head-on. And he’d do so as well, with a smile on his face.
Maybe the villain actually felt bad about being so late those last few times? He starts tapping his foot quickly against the dirty alleyway ground. Tap, tap, taptaptaptap.. Ha. Funny. Hawks smiles wider, imagining Dabi feeling even remotely sorry about such a thing. Yeah, no way in hell.
“So! What’re we doing tonight?”
With an exasperated sigh, Dabi regards him for a moment. His staples gleam in the moonlight, expression unreadable as per usual. His eyes catch sight of Hawks’ foot with annoyance and at once, the sound ceases.
Whoops.
“You tell me. You said you had something for me.”
“Oh! Right, sorry!” Hawks adjusts his feathers, mentally kicking himself as he feels them puff slightly, quickly pulling out a folded packet from one of the inside pockets of his flight jacket.
“I got you all the patrol information for the top 5 heroes in this district, you wanted it, right?”
Dabi snatches it from his outstretched hands in reply, gruffly flipping it open. Scanning the information for a minute, his eyes narrow, seemingly searching for something.
“This is current?”
“Yup! Updated as of this morning!”
“They changed the rotation. You know anything about that?”
“Mm-hm, they changed it in response to suspicious activities in the neighboring area. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, right?” Hawks asks, teasingly.
Dabi just rolls his eyes.
“You don’t get to be the one asking the questions here. Where’d you get this, anyway? This stuff isn’t exactly open access.”
“Trade secret! Maybe I’m just that good. I’m a pretty suave guy, y’know?” Hawks says with a wink.
“No, really, even as the number 2, you shouldn’t have access to this.”
“And yet.”
Dabi studies him for a long moment.
“You really want in with the League that badly, huh,” the villain’s gaze sharpens, “Enough to betray your coworkers?” he sneers.
Hawks’ smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it gets wider.
“Well, that’s the idea.”
The tapping resumes and the crimson wings behind him start twitching sporadically.
“Isn’t it written so nicely? I have a great handwriting, huh!”
“This is typed,” the villain counters.
“Exactly! I typed it beautifully!”
Dabi looks back down at the patrol routes, Endeavor’s carefully highlighted with an orange highlighter.
Despite how well this arrangement was working out in his favor, it was all too good to be true.
Hawks was too perfect, never seemed to make even a single mistake, and somehow managed to provide information that Dabi had known for a fact would be inaccessible to him. He’d asked for it on purpose to trip the hero up.
And there was simply no way that the beloved number 2 would turn his back so easily on hero society, the guy so very obviously loved his job too much. He’d seen it firsthand, Hawks joyfully waving down at swooning grannies from the sky, determinedly chasing away all the bad guys before they could lay even a single finger on any of those oh-so-precious civilians.
There’s something going on underneath these meetings.
The Commission, probably. Actually, no, there was no doubt about it, it was definitely the Commission. The bird was practically their poster boy.
He just couldn’t prove it, not yet. For now, call it a gut-feeling.
But, even so, he’d play it to his own advantage, using Hawks until he tips his hand. The intel was valuable and the hero clearly wanted to join the League badly enough to keep coming back.
So this would continue. He’d wait and maintain his current approach before the hero inevitably slipped up.
And when that happens?
Fried chicken.
He smiles a little at the thought.
At that, Hawks’ golden eyes immediately light up, his broad smile growing as he completely misreads the expression.
Dabi must be impressed!
Even if his smile looked a little murderous, it had to be because he totally liked the information! Maybe it was just the Dabi-version of looking pleased. His feathers fluffed up. The intel had worked! He’d had to pull way too many strings to get ahold of it, but all of that stress was worth it for this singular moment.
Hope pricks his heart. Maybe this was it. He was one step closer to getting into the League and one step closer to wrapping up this nightmare of an assignment. All the baddies would be locked away and he could continue his hero life as it was before. He hated playing the role of a hero-gone-bad. He was no villain. He was nothing like his father.
He’d done well. He’d had to have.
Finally.
A hum thrums through his veins and his thoughts suddenly felt like they were running on two-time speed. He couldn’t decipher if it was from the caffeine or excitement. Probably both? Well, this was definitely exciting! Everything around him seemed to be happening in 4K, his heightened senses receiving feedback from everything surrounding the alleyway doubly as clear.
He had been working so hard at trying to get into Dabi’s good graces, so if he could get this kind of reaction from the villain..
Well.
Maybe he could push his luck just a little. Seal the deal and cement his place in Dabi's good books.
“Hey,” Hawks leans in with a conspiratorial grin, “I bet I can make you laugh.”
The pyromaniac’s smile disappears.
“What.”
“Well, I technically did already!” he insists. “Remember last time?”
“I remember you passing out in the middle of our meeting, if that’s what you’re asking. Twice.”
“What, I was just resting my eyes! I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the hero blanches.
“You just keep telling yourself that.”
“It’s true!”
“You were snoring.”
“Nuh uh, I don’t snore.”
“Oh, that's right. My bad," Dabi retorts, "You were chirping."
Silence passes as Hawks pauses, face paling faintly.
“..I do not chirp! Now I know you’re lying! Ha!” he exclaims brashly with an accusatory finger pointing.
“Whatever you say, birdie.”
A beat passes. In the distance somewhere behind them, a car honks.
“..y’know.. I think that you’re just jealous,” Hawks says suddenly.
“What would I have to be jealous of you for, pigeon?” Dabi replies lowly, eyes flashing dangerously. The air heats minutely around them.
“My outstanding vocal abilities,” the hero declares, breaking the tension.
“What in the actual fuck are you talking about? Your snoring? Chirping?” the villain’s lips quirk, “tweet tweet!” he mocks.
“What! No! My singing!” Hawks exclaims indignantly, arms crossing.
“You weren’t singing.”
“Not yet.”
Oh. He’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he?
Hawks obnoxiously clears his throat, feathers twitching with dramatic effect.
“Wanna hear?”
“Absolutely not. You start singing and I’m roasting you to hell and back.”
“Too late~!” he sing-songs.
Dabi pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. What the fuck. But before he could shut down the bird’s impromptu performance, Hawks starts humming some vaguely familiar tune that’d been trending on social media last week. Toga had been rewatching some viral cat video with the song as the sound in the common room for 10 minutes straight the other day.
Really, it was barely recognizable, mostly because he kept mixing up the beat, deciding to change the melody every few phrases, and occasionally adding in unnecessary sound effects along the way. His wings were twitching again, full spasms this time.
Dabi stares at the hero for several seconds while he sings along to the horrid song. Hawks’ golden eyes are swallowed by his pupils, much more so than what should be normal, even in this dimly lit alleyway.
No way.
Was he..? Was he high? He’d shown up to their meeting high?
“You’re acting weird.”
The hero stops humming.
“Weird? This is just me though? Oh, oh! Like that one song from that movie, y’know it? About the crazy circus! You know it, right? I can sing that next!” Hawks announces excitedly, voice picking up in speed and volume as he goes.
Dabi narrows his eyes, mouth forming a firm line.
Hawks quiets, then starts chuckling awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Uh oh. He'd wanted to make the guy laugh, not angry.
“..Tough crowd...”
“What did you take?” the villain demands.
The laughter stops.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“What are you on? Drugs? Alcohol? Whatever.”
“What! I’m not on anything!”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
Hawks pauses, considering.
“Maybe you are getting to know the real me..,” he croons with a renewed glint in his eye.
He starts humming again.
And. Nope, not happening.
“Hawks! Stop!” the villain shouts, startling a few pigeons that had been perched at the top of a nearby apartment building.
Hawks beams at him again. That stupid smile. They stare at each other for a beat, it’s silent, save for..
Taptaptap..taptaptaptaptaptap..
They both look down at Hawks’ foot, seemingly moving with a mind of its own. Where was he getting all this energy? It’s like 1:30 in the morning. During their last meeting, the bird could barely stay upright.
It dawns on him, then. The twitchiness, the blown pupils, the jabber.
“..Hawks,” Dabi starts, “How many cups of coffee have you had today?”
Hawks’ eyes widen at the accusation.
“Zero, promise!” he insists, arms swinging quickly with an abortive gesture, “My agency has been giving me grief about coffee lately! I haven’t had a single one for a few days now!” he lowers his head a little, placing a gloved hand on his chin thoughtfully, “Now that I think about it, this must be some kind of personal record..,” he mumbles to himself in awe.
“You drank something else, then?”
“No.”
The answer comes too quickly, Hawks winces and his wings twitch behind him again. Damn, maybe he actually was losing his touch with this whole spy thing. He was usually better than this, at lying. Madam President would be shaking her head in disapproval at his performance here. He blames it on the incessant buzzing filling his head.
Dabi’s gaze hardens. It feels like those icy blue eyes are peering right into his soul.
“No..” the hero repeats, considerably less convincingly this time.
“Energy drinks?”
Hawks ceases all movement. Maybe it was better to just be honest, he wonders. Build trust and all that, right? The fewer lies, the better? He was trying to get the villain to believe him, it goes against the mission to lose his trust over little things like this, right? And he’d just gotten onto his good side..
For one glorious second, Dabi thought that he’d finally managed to get the hero to stop. He’d caught him.
But then, the bird’s face splits into the biggest grin he’s seen, maybe ever, on anybody.
“Seven!” he announces proudly.
Dabi’s expression goes blank.
“..Seven?”
“Yup, there were seven flavors! Well, actually, there were more than seven flavors, but there were seven colors, and I got them all! Red, orange, yellow, oh, the yellow ended up being more of a lime color, but I really did think it looked yellow under the store lights, so I think it still counts! And then there was green and blue and pink and purple and..! Wait, that was it..I think.. but anyway, they tasted like battery acid, so. Do not recommend,” Hawks rambles on, a look of disgust flashing across his features briefly before it's replaced by yet another smile.
The villain, for a long moment, says nothing.
“You drank seven energy drinks.”
“Yup. Gotta maintain all this charisma somehow!”
Dabi’s eye twitches.
“Tonight?”
“Since like, earlier today, I spread them out!”
“That does not make it better, you do realize that, right?”
“Hey, I was just following my instincts,” the hero insists defensively, “And my instincts never fail me. It’s worked pretty well, if I do say so myself, don’tcha agree? I’m not even tired right now, look!”
The large crimson wings behind him spread suddenly, sharpened feathers zipping this way and that with piercing whizzing sounds, all around the narrow alleyway before settling back in their respective spots in the plumage once more. His foot hasn’t stopped the tapping.
“Okay, never do that again unless you want all your little feathers to get torched,” Dabi snarls, “how many did you drink before coming here?”
“Uhhh..”
Hawks pauses, seemingly lost in thought. His eyebrows furrow.
“Three,” he says, after a while.
“And the other four?”
“Oh! Here,” the hero replies, gesturing vaguely to himself, eyes flicking upwards to something behind Dabi.
“What?”
“Huh?”
“What do you mean ‘here’?” the villain questions, impatience growing.
“Oh. I drank them here.”
At that, Dabi looks around.
“There are four empty cans hiding in this alley?”
“No.”
“Then where are they?”
Hawks points up.
Dabi follows his finger.. to the roof of the building behind him.
“You threw them on the roof? You know it’s a crime to litter, hero,” the villain tuts sarcastically.
“Hey! Wait, no! I was gonna grab them after our meeting, pinky promise!”
Hawks holds out his hand, pinky finger extended. He grins, golden eyes twinkling with delight at their exchange.
There it is again. That strange, unnatural wired brightness. But this time, Dabi notices what lies behind it. The hero is breathing too quickly. His pupils are huge and the offered pinky finger is shaking. Despite all the energy, there is a faint tremor running through his body.
His amusement disappears.
“Are you actually this stupid?”
Hawks gasps in mock offense, lowering his hand.
“Whoa, rude!”
“You drank seven fucking energy drinks.”
“Not consecutively!”
“That is not the defense you think it is, birdbrain.”
“Well, I’m fine, see?” the hero spins in place, rather gracefully, “Ta daaaa~!” He finishes with jazz hands.
Dabi folds his arms.
“You’ve been singing.”
“I like singing!”
“Oh yeah? You’re shit at it though.”
Hawks freezes. A frown blooms across his face. It's the first one of the night.
“Take that back, you don’t mean it.”
“No.”
“I can’t believe this. I sang my heart and soul out to you and this is the reception I get? I’m like a songbird..,” he says, voice dwindling, shifting his weight a little.
A short breath escapes Dabi's nose in amusement. It isn’t quite a laugh. But it’s close enough.
Hawks stops short from whatever he was about to say next, eyes widening in glee.
“Was that–”
“No.”
“You laughed! I made you laugh! See! I told you! I told you I could make you laugh! And you did! I knew I could do it!” Hawks boasts, excitement increasing as he goes.
This was his in, Dabi definitely liked him! At this rate, he’d be introduced to the rest of the League in no time!
“I didn’t, I exhaled,” the villain defends.
“That was a laugh, Dabs! Admit it!” Hawks exclaims.
Dabi’s mouth twitches.
“You’re unbearable.”
But the bird was looking at Dabi like he had discovered the secret to the universe or something equally as grand. He starts laughing, himself. And not the one that he’d practiced in the mirror for years under the careful watch of the HPSC, it was a genuine bright and chirpy laugh that erupts, loud in the empty alley.
He tries to stop, really he does. This is unprofessional, even for him, in the middle of his infiltration meeting.
But then he looks at Dabi’s face and starts laughing even harder than before. He wheezes, covering his mouth, “Sorry, I–”
“Stop. You’re not sorry.”
“I am!” the hero protests, laughing again.
“What’s wrong with you?”
The villain’s face is twisted between annoyance and mild confusion.
“Nothing, just–”
He breaks out into another fit of chirpy laughter, doubling over. Whew, he really needs to reign this in, the Commission would have his head over all the bird noises.
“--everything’s really funny right now.”
Dabi studies him for another few seconds as the giggling starts to die down. That’s when he notices it, the gleam of a brightly colored can sticking out of one of Hawks’ jacket pockets.
“You brought another one,” he says, voice flat.
Hawks looks up from his hunched stance, gathering himself back together.
“..No I didn’t.”
Dabi reaches forward, which causes Hawks to twist away, lightning-fast reflexes. The can flies out, clattering loudly on the pavement.
“What’s this, then?”
“My emergency caffeine ration,” Hawks deadpans in a serious voice, before smirking sheepishly.
Dabi pinches the bridge of his nose again.
“No more, you’re done,” he says, confiscating the can.
Hawks’ smile falters.
Uh oh. He’d been counting on that one for his flight home. He was already starting to feel the beginning of a crash. That can was kind of his liquid lifeline at the moment, and now it was in the hands of a villainous pyromaniac. Yeah.. he’s probably not gonna get it back, considering that he was absolutely in no position to start a fight over an energy drink. Not that he’d want to, anyway. Still.
He opts to pout instead.
Dabi just stares at him, unblinking.
This is the same Hawks who, mere weeks ago, had approached him with that irritatingly composed camera-ready smile, every movement deliberate, every sentence seemingly rehearsed to perfection.
Now, the guy was standing in front of him with seven energy drinks running through his bloodstream, foot tapping incessantly, wings twitching, moping over wanting to consume more caffeine.
Something about it all did not sit right with him.
Throughout their last meeting, the bird hadn’t even been able to keep his eyes open, and now here he was, unable to sit still.
“You’re exhausted.”
The sulking stops, Hawks regards him with surprise.
“Am not.”
“You passed out twice last time.”
“Hey, I really was just resting my eyes! I have enough manners not to fall asleep in front of company,” the hero remarks teasingly, “I wasn’t raised in a barn!”
“Like I said earlier, you were snoring.”
“Prove it or it didn’t happen.”
Dabi almost laughs again at the quip. Almost.
But Hawks, curse those keen eyes, notices it, and was now grinning at him with the force of the sun. Then, there, just for a second, the manic energy dims, like someone threw a sunshade over the brightness.
His expression shutters and wings droop.
Dabi catches it immediately.
“..Hawks?”
The hero recovers, blinking quickly. Once, twice, three times in succession. He pulls himself up and together again, so swiftly that it looks almost painful. Yikes.
“Anyway! Was there anything else you needed me to do for you?" he asks cheerily, "I’m super ready for any job you throw my way!”
“Uh. You sure you're okay?”
“Huh? What do you mean? Never been better! So?”
“Bullshit.”
“No really, I mean it! Look, I’m full of energy!” he proclaims.
His wings flare up behind him, like he was about to take off.
“I could probably even—”
He stops.
His eyes blink again, slower this time. Once, twice. His head dips forward. Then, it snaps up.
“---break my personal speed record..,” he finishes, slurring a few consonants slightly, smile still plastered to his face.
Dabi stares at him in disbelief.
“Don’t.”
“Wasn’t going to, just saying.”
“You totally were.”
Hawks looks away, avoiding his gaze.
“..maybe.”
Dabi exhales harshly through his nose. This wasn’t funny anymore, it wasn’t really in the first place. Honestly, it was a little horrifying to witness. What kind of organization was the Commission to be pushing their golden pro hero to the point where ingesting seven energy drinks at once was the best solution?
“Sit down.”
“Oh, wow. I’m getting deja vu.”
“Hawks, sit,” the villain demands, gesturing to the nearby concrete step.
Hawks considers the situation, seemingly trying to navigate the effort of conjuring up an argument from the mush of his brain, but in the end, he drops onto the step, wings adjusting with a soft rustling sound behind him.
His foot keeps tapping.
Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap..
Dabi waits, then settles down next to him. This was kind of giving him a sense of deja vu, too.
Hawks stares straight ahead, gaze transfixed on the grimy brick wall across from them.
After a few minutes, “..Dabs?”
“What.”
“Do you think birds can get caffeine poisoning?” comes the question in a soft voice.
“Probably.”
Hawks seems to mull this over for a second. He nods thoughtfully.
“Gotcha.”
Dabi glances sideways, eyebrow raised.
“That’s it?”
“Huh? Yeah?”
Silence lapses.
“..my heart feels kinda weird, though,” the hero admits, ruefully.
Dabi’s expression changes instantly.
“What kind of weird?”
Hawks thinks.
“Like there’s a jackhammer pounding away inside,” he decides, placing a shaky hand over the HPSC logo on his compression shirt.
At that, Dabi stands up.
“Alright. We’re done here."
Hawks looks up at him in bewilderment.
“What? Done with what?”
His quickened heart rate spikes. Oh no, this is it, the mission is a failure. Dabi doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore, he’d revealed too much, and now he’d been deemed useless. Madam President’s disdainful stare flashes across his vision.
“This meeting.”
Oh. Just the meeting, then, not him. Hope ignites again in his chest.
“..But I haven’t actually made you laugh again yet,” Hawks mutters quietly, a sharp contrast to his playful persona from earlier.
“You already did.”
Hawks’ eyes widen a fraction.
“I did? Really?”
Dabi hesitates.
Then, in a low voice, “yeah.”
Hawks smiles, that same gentle smile from before.
“See? I told ya..,” he trails off.
And before Dabi could reply, the bird’s head lolls sideways, his entire body following a second later. Dabi has to lunge to grab him before he tips off the step into the filthy alley, pulling a few staples in the process.
“..Hawks. Tweety.”
He tilts the blond’s head up toward him, but his eyes are already half-closed.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
The hero mumbles something unintelligible, lashes fluttering.
“What was that?”
“..seven colors..”
Dabi stares at him.
“Unbelievable.”
His eyes close. The foot finally stops tapping.