Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Birds and Cats.  Cats and birds.  They just…didn’t typically mix.  Now, the norm was that cats ate birds, unless they were hawks like Hawks, and then birds ate cats.  Well, sometimes.  Really it could go either way, Hawks imagined that large birds of prey and cats would be rather evenly matched.

So, they had a long history of eating one another and really, they reminded Hawks of the relationship he shared with Dabi—without the, you know, eating part.  Dabi in his mind was a wiry, sleek-furred cat with luminous eyes and intelligence sharp enough to slice.  Something like the Cheshire cat, but less playful.  Hawks was a bird with vivid colours to disguise the danger beneath the beautiful feathers.  It was still undecided who would come out on top in a fight if it came to it. 

“Musty rooftops again.” He mused, grinning patronizingly into the darkness around.  “I didn’t even know rooftops could be musty, what d’ya know?”

“Shut up birdbrain.” Dabi muttered concisely, leaning over the ledge to look into the abyss below.  Hawks didn’t think he could see anything, but then, his own night vision was terrible compared to his normal sight because of his hawk mutation, and with the way Dabi’s eyes seemed to legitimately glow, casting blue into the air around them, Hawks wouldn’t put it past him to be able to see better than him in the dark.

Dabi leaned further over, eyes looking somewhat glazed in the shadow.  Hawks’ wings puffed slightly.  This was the part where he’d normally grab the civilian’s arm and tell them they’d fall if they weren’t careful, flash a smile bright enough to distract them because in most cases they just wanted him to catch them.  Here, there was no railing, just a slight step up that Dabi was already standing on.  His gaze was quiet, thoughtful even, and he leaned further again, until almost all of his weight was over the edge.  A breath’s worth of air would push him over now.

Hawks felt his chest tighten.  Was this a…test?  To see whether he’d save one of the League members if they fell, or let them die and eliminate one very powerful villain in a freak ‘accident’?  He glanced over his shoulder.  It could be that someone else from the League was watching, could be that Kurogiri’s portal was at the bottom of the alleyway to catch Dabi if he did fall, could be that his loyalties were being fact checked. 

Hawks, if you see an opportunity to let one of them ‘accidentally’ sustain a lethal wound, say in a fight or territory brawl if the League begins to engage in expansion, take it.  We need to cull their numbers as much as possible. 

The Commission President had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t to protect the League. 

“Dabi?” Hawks asked carefully instead, keeping his tone even so as not to startle him because he was clearly lost in thought.  “You going to give me any tasks today or are we just here to sightsee, cos honestly, my night vision is pretty trash and those uh…beautiful mold-encrusted alleyways down there are a little hard to make out.”

Dabi blinked and leaned back, trance breaking, something akin to shock in his eyes.  He stepped off the ledge and Hawks thought the movement was too quick, too skittish, for any of this to have been a test. 

“Impatient bird,” he eventually muttered, yanking out a pile of paper from his shirt.  “Always in such a rush.  I would’ve thought these ‘mold-encrusted’ alleyways would be a nice change of scenery for a high-ranked hero.  Let you see the real world for a moment.”

“Mm.” Hawks agreed noncommittedly.

Dabi’s gaze flicked through the files in his hands as though he hadn’t yet looked at them himself, skimming the contents with a faint frown.  Hawks blinked in surprise when he risked a step closer and realised they were all written in English.  He glanced at Dabi again, who was scanning through them with as much fluency as if he was reading Japanese. 

So…not an education from the slums then?  Only the more exclusive schools taught English to that extent.  Although Dabi had been on the streets long enough that he couldn’t have finished school, so to be that fluent, was he part foreigner?  He looked Japanese, so perhaps he was born to a more prestigious family.  Huh…

“Are you even listening?” Dabi asked.

Hawks startled, straightening.  “Huh?  Yeah, uh…”

Dabi sighed and then waved the papers in his face, surprisingly patient for all the short-tempered threats he was always making.  “These are from the Commission database.” He clarified.  “All the files on Best Jeanist, in English because he’s of English heritage and they think it makes their secret files more secret.” He snorted humourlessly and passed them over.  “Kill him and Shigaraki might want to meet you.”

Hawks’ eyes widened.  “Kil—” He was quick to cut his word off, almost biting his tongue with the force he snapped his mouth shut.  Something strange passed across Dabi’s face, something like…remorse. 

“Yeah.” The villain said, turning aside.  “Shouldn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Dabi’s voice was stiff, almost.  Like the words were spoken through gritted teeth.  He turned back right before he reached the door and added, patronising smirk that was more like the ‘Dabi’ the Commission records depicted already in place, “Feel free to fail, Hero.  I won’t even kill you for it.”

And for some reason, those last few words sounded more genuine than any before that. 

Dabi slipped down the stairs, door clicking shut behind him and Hawks looked at the papers in his hands.  “Kill him, eh?”  The Commission could sort something out.  The more he thought about it the more he realised that this was basically a gift in disguise.  It would be easy to pull up a dead body using someone’s quirk and make it look like Best Jeanist, and because it was such a loud gesture of loyalty maybe he really would be able to meet Shigaraki.  He tucked the paper into his pocket and stepped off the balcony, wings tented open enough that he just sailed down to the ground, landing lightly.  He glanced around.  Nothing noteworthy.  Just another alley.

He wished he knew what Dabi had been thinking about when he’d been staring down here, eyebrows pinched, mind far away.

Dabi was…difficult to understand.  In a way that Hawks didn’t usually find people.  Dabi was too unpredictable, too intelligent, too distrustful, too much of an untypical villain.  His body counts ticked up and up and up more every day, with police reporting burnt out corpses to the Commission weekly.  He was more of a lone wolf type than the other League members seemed to be, and whether it was self-imposed or not was uncertain.  He was also…not unkind to Hawks.  He wasn’t kind, exactly, but he was far more mild than he was made out to be.  Heck, Hawks had fans that unsettled him more than Dabi did.  Dabi had never pulled his feathers, or tried to pluck his hairs as trophies, or tear the buttons off his shirt or tug his gloves off or—the list went on for quite a while, actually.  Had Dabi ever even touched Hawks?  So far, the worst thing about Dabi was the jobs he gave him.  They were unpleasant, to say the least.  This whole ‘being forced to infiltrate the League of Villains as an untrained spy’ thing was unpleasant. 

His phone began to ring incessantly in his pocket.  Ah, right.  The Commission President wanted to speak to him today.  What a pleasure, gosh he was so looking forward to that. 

- - -

“Hello Madam President,” He greeted, tapping down on her balcony and stepping inside as it was opened by one of her—hm, basically servants but technically called secretaries—and he was allowed in.  “How are you on this fine, radiantly raining day?”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and didn’t answer.  “Hawks.  I want an update on your infiltrating the League.  Have you met Tomura Shigaraki yet?”

Straight to it then.  “I’ve met up with Dabi multiple times,” he began, tapping his jaw with a glove-clad talon.  He tilted his head and smiled, already knowing how annoyed it made her.  “He’s actually quite hospitable, I gotta say.  He gives me a time and he’s there at said time, although he never sends me the address until half an hour before—probably so I can’t set up an ambush—which is a strain on my wings.  I was late once…ya know, he didn’t even yell at me.  More than I can say about you, Lady President.” He winked.  “And he’s guarded, sure, and suspicious, and a little paranoid, and sometimes gets distracted by wide looming black cavernous alleyways—okay, yeah, that’s only happened once but—”

“Hawks.”

“I was really curious about what he was thinking about, he’s kinda pretty, up close.  And from a distance too…Look, I know you said no, but are you sure you don’t want me to try my hand at this honeytrap thing?  The offer’s only on the table for Dabi at this point, I’m not one for crusty-faced, barely-considered-an-adult, hand-obsessed dudes like Shigaraki, but Dabi is definitely—”

“Hawks. Be quiet.”

Hawks grinned.  Silently.

“I asked for a status report.  Give me one, as you’ve been trained to, right now.”

Damn, he thought, tucking his patronising smile away, I hoped if I talked long enough she’d just send me away.  “No large updates.” He said, tone sobering as he sighed.  “He wants me to kill Best Jeanist, but I’m sure we can arrange something.  If I succeed I was given the impression I’d be able to meet with Shigaraki—sad, I kinda like my one-on-one meetings with Dab—”

“Hawks—”

“It doesn’t seem like he’ll give me too many other jobs if I succeed, although if I fail any sort of belief he has that I truly want to be a villain will dissipate, I get the feeling Dabi still doesn’t believe me, he seemed to want to give me a way out of killing Jeanist.” He paused, gaze downcast as he traced the patterns in the leather of his glove absently with his eyes.  “Like I said last time…Dabi doesn’t make sense to me.  It’s almost like he doesn’t hate my guts, which is interesting sure, but just…not what I expected, considering his disgust of the number one hero, you’d think he’d be a little more malicious towards the number two...” He caught his tone at the last minute, realising it had become far too serious, and added.  “But like, he might like-like me, ya know?  Sooo, the honeytrap thing would be—”

“Hawks, leave.” The Commission president said, rubbing her temples.  ‘Write me a full report, multiple pages, nothing left out, and have it on my desk by tomorrow.”

Hawks winced.  Okay, no sleeping tonight then.

“And report back first thing in the morning.”

He nodded, relieved at least that he could go home finally, even if it was only to spend all night writing a report. 

“Oh.” She said, and he felt all his newfound relief sink into a pool of dread in the pit of his stomach.  “Actually you can put the report off, I want you to go back to the rooftop you saw Dabi at today and trace him back to wherever he lives.  We believe we have a vague notion of where the League base is, but Dabi appears to not reside with them.  He is too unknown.”

He didn’t ask, how am I supposed to ‘trace’ him? or you do realise there’s no way for me to know which direction he left in without having left one of my feathers on him, which I don’t.  He just pulled his lips up in what really wasn’t a smile and nodded.

She gave him a tight-lipped grimace.  “Now leave, and practise some more professionalism before our next meeting.”

He watched her a moment longer, and then gave her a two fingered salute and hopped out the window and into the air.

- - -

Well, he was right.  Dabi was untraceable. 

He walked along the road for a long while, having picked one at random because it gave him faint Dabi-ish vibes, hands in his pockets, whistling tunelessly because he was boring like that.  “Haah.” He sighed, for the ninetieth time.  “I’m not a tracker dog.  Why don’t they just employ someone else to do this?”  And he couldn’t even trace Dabi from the sky because his sight was shit at night.  He drummed his fingers against the inside of his pocket, still wandering aimlessly.  The night was cool, it was somewhat nice when he really thought about it.  Better than a report though?  Well, that was debatable—

To his left, something shattered.  He started, wings flaring out, when someone was abruptly thrown out of a bar and onto the closest pile of junk.  Things clattered everywhere, a tyre wheel rolling over to settle at Hawks’ feet.  “Uh…are you alright?” He began, leaning closer to better see.

The woman, who was clearly extremely intoxicated, stood up.  She glared at him for a long moment.  “‘R ya Hawks?” She eventually slurred in an accent that was definitely not Japanese. 

“Yeah…?” he agreed uncertainly.

“Ha.  My girlfriend likes you.”

He stepped closer and helped her move away from the junk pile and over to the wall of the bar, where she could lean against it and stand somewhat straight.  “Tell her hi from me then.” He said cheerily.  Fans he could deal with, but it was always hit or miss in these parts.  They either hated your guts or they loved them.

Her glare intensified.  “Ma’ girlfriend jus’ threw me out of her bar and dumped me fer bein’ a drunk.  Apparently I’s acting like an animal.  How ironic.”

“Oh.” He said nervously, letting go of her arm.  Too late though, she latched onto him and something molten hot flowed out of her fingertips and up his arm.  He’d been in too many painful situations to still instinctively cry out, so the only sound he made was a sharp gasp as his breath caught in his throat. 

“I can show ‘er what it’s like to be an animal, I’ll make ‘er favourite dancin’ dirty ‘ero into an animal for a week er two.” 

Hawks stomped on her foot, spearing his wings to throw him backwards, the training of thousands of fights kicking back in.  He slid away from her, hands raised pacifyingly.  “Look, I’m leaving, okay?”

She snorted.  “No yer not.”

And he realised with some surprise that she was right, his vision spitting with little crackling coloured dots and his body filling with cement all at once. 

- - -

Hawks came-to when something started snuffling against his face, a wet nose and pointy whiskers prodding into his cheek.  He groaned, and it sounded a little different from how it was meant to.

“What’ve you got over there?” Someone asked, someone vaguely familiar-sounding.  “Is that…did someone poison one of you?”

Hands slipped around Hawks’ body, and suddenly he was carefully lifted up.  Warm hands, and then he was held loosely against a warm chest and he shifted a little closer to nuzzle into it because why not?  Affection and touch were definitely his love languages.

“You okay there, little one?” Someone asked softly, and Hawks blearily opened his eyes.  The first thing he saw was about a dozen cats sitting on the ground, faces tilted up, just like dogs begging for food.  Okay, so…that was strange.  The next thing he processed was that his gaze was a bit short-sighted.  He couldn’t see half as far as he normally could.  And then he realised that in fact, he could see his nose.  And it was furry.  And tawny-red coloured.  And he had a black nose.  Black, like a cat’s.

Huh, he thought, totally disconnected, I’m a cat right now, aren’t I? 

So, that would be what that crazy drunk from last night had been ranting about. 

Warm fingers probed against his head, feeling his ears as though checking there was no damage to him anywhere.  It felt good, and then to his shock he was purring. 

“You have golden eyes.” That voice said again.  “Didn’t know that was a thing.”

The fingers left his fur and he was placed on the ground to stand on shaky feet and Hawks looked up to find…Dabi.  

Wow, the sheer coincidence.

Dabi crouched down and all the other cats swarmed over to him, curling around his legs and hopping up onto his lap.  He seemed amused by it, running his fingers through the fur of whichever cat butted most persistently against his hand, uncaring of how ragged or dirty they were.

Hawks sat there silently, tail wrapped around his body, just staring, for a very long time.  Dabi paid no particular attention to him, content to keep patting the other cats.  He wasn’t pushy about it, didn’t force any of them near him.  He didn’t appear to be feeding them either, so Hawks wasn’t even sure why they flocked to him so persistently. 

But…Dabi.  This was an A—almost S—ranked villain who murdered people daily.  Patting cats.  Okay.  This was fine.  Hawks was fine. 

Dabi stayed with the cats for a surprising amount of time before he straightened, brushing the fur off his coat and letting it fall back to hang around his knees.  “See ya.” He said, flicking a wave over his shoulder like they were humans except that he wasn’t that polite to humans.

The cats meowed back at him, a discordant harmony if Hawks ever heard one, and then they scattered.  Clearly this was routine.

Hawks blinked owlishly and quickly ran after Dabi.  He looked both ways once he breached the end of the alleyway, worried he’d already be gone, but there was those dark boots strolling comfortably down the dingy street to his left, hands in pockets.  Hawks trotted quickly after him, falling into step at his side. 

Dabi paused.  Hawks also paused.  He sat back on his haunches and looked up at him, ears flicking about.

The pyromaniac sighed.  “Look fuzzface, I’ve already told you all a hundred times, you can’t come back with me.  I’m not a very safe person to hang around with.”

Hawks marvelled at the way he managed to make ‘fuzzface’ sound like the most complimentary and endearing nickname he’d ever heard.  He was kinda honoured to be called it actually.

Hawks opened his mouth and meowed.  The option to talk no longer existed apparently.  Dabi looked at him for another long minute before he continued walking. 

Hawks trotted after him.

“You better only be heading this way.” The villain told him.  “Because you’re not coming back to my house.”

They walked for a while, until Hawks was comfortable enough in this body to be jumping around and pouncing on things, tail swaying.  Dabi appeared to be lost in thought, chewing on the inside of his cheek absently, eyes watching the ground he was walking on.  Occasionally he’d glance at Hawks and his eyes would soften.

The first time it had happened Hawks had tripped over.  He wanted to blame it on the literal two left feet, but he’d just never…seen that expression on anyone.  And to see it on Dabi, well, he’d already thought Dabi was startlingly pretty.  It made his insides do weird things, made him feel nervous and all bubbly like it was Christmas eve at once.

Eventually Dabi reached an apartment complex and slipped inside faultlessly enough that Hawks had actually continued trotting on for a few moments before he’d jerked to a startled stop upon realising the villain was gone. 

He ran back and slid inside the closing door in just the nick of time.

Or so he’d thought.

Some extra limb that was a bit like his wings but far longer suddenly erupted in pain and he collapsed to a heap on the ground, crying out helplessly at the sharp unfamiliar feeling.

Footsteps fell loudly near his head and then the door clicked open again and the pain lessened significantly.  He was scooped into those warm arms once more and hot fingers combed through the fur at his ears until he went quiet and leaned his snout on Dabi’s shoulder, purring.  “You idiot,” The villain said, still stroking his back as he carried him through the halls.  “You got your tail stuck in the door trying to follow me, this is why I told you not to come.  You have to leave once I make sure none of the bones are broken, alright?”

They reached room number 193 and Dabi slipped a key out of his pocket to unlock it.  Only one lock?  That was surprising.  Hawks would have thought that Dabi would want to be a little safer than that, what with being a villain and everything.  When he glanced around, even the other rooms in the complex had two or three locks. 

Dabi took him inside and placed him on a very uncomfortable couch, snatching a rather threadbare blanket out of another room before lifting him again to place it underneath him.  Well, it was a little more comfortable at least.

“Let me see your tail, cat-that-jumps-around-like-it-thinks-it’s-a-bird.”

Hawks looked up indignantly.  He hadn’t been hopping around that much, he’d just been getting used to his new body.  And he was a bird!  So what did it matter!?

Dabi lifted him onto his lap and Hawks let him, body lax like he was a slinky.  The villain inspected his tail, brushing his fingers over it in the same gentle way he’d been displaying all day.  It was so bizarre, it was the most gentle and soft he’d ever seen anybody, and it was Dabi.  Hawks didn’t know many soft people, sure, he had few friends and his life was essentially fighting villains that constantly wanted him dead.  Kindness wasn’t plentiful.  This was strange, it made Hawks a little glad he was a cat, even if it was just for this moment.  Nobody had ever touched him so carefully, or cared if he was injured, or spoken to him openly, without a hint of suspicion or ulterior motive.  His tail didn’t hurt anymore, so Hawks yawned and settled onto Dabi’s lap, laying his head on his paws and closing his eyes.  This was about as close to a holiday he would ever get, he shouldn’t waste it being worried that the A-Ranked villain treating him like he was important would suddenly recognise him and everything would change.  He was naturally a pretty easy-going person, he was happy to just let things play out.  Maybe he’d pick up on some extra information to make the Commission less mad at him for disappearing for however long this animal quirk lasted.

“Don’t go to sleep.” Dabi chided, poking him.  “You’re leaving, remember?”

Hawks bit his finger when it poked him next and Dabi sighed dramatically, throwing his head back on the backrest of the couch.  “Insufferable little thing, aren’t you?  You’re about as bossy as Hawks, you gonna start demanding I let you into the League too?  And look, you’ve got those crazy eyebrows to boot.”

Hawks’ ears perked, tilting towards Dabi.  The villain took that to mean he was listening and raised an eyebrow.  “What’s this?  Don’t tell me you’re a fan of the birdbrain too.”

Hawks sat back up, looking up at the villain inquiringly.  Dabi snorted and ruffled his ears again.  “He’s this bird that wants to be a villain, except he’s a really bad liar and he’s clearly a hero.”

Hawks’ eyes widened slightly.  Dabi sounded certain.  Without a doubt.  But not angry, he almost sounded…was it fond?  Couldn’t be, but he sounded like something when he spoke of Hawks.

Dabi drew his hand back from Hawks to scratch his own nose and then absently bit his thumbnail, glancing out the window beside them.  “I’ve got to figure out more ways to keep him away from the League, they’ll chew him up.  But Shigaraki’s going to dust me soon if I don’t let them meet, and the Commission is no doubt getting antsy with the featherhead too…”

Hawks sat very still on his lap, shocked.

Dabi was…was it—protecting him?

Shigaraki wanted to meet him?

He knew that the Commission had put him up to it?

Hawks looked down at his paws, eyes wide.  That was a lot of information to process.  Dabi was…shockingly intelligent.  He’d make a far better spy than Hawks did.  He clearly picked up on tells Hawks wasn’t even aware he was exhibiting.

“You know,” the dark-haired villain mused idly.  “He’s about the only hero that I really like—well, like is a strong word.  I mean, there’s some UA teachers that aren’t bad, and the odd low-ranking hero.  But at the top…there’s just my bastard father and those other fakes, and then there’s Hawks, who’s somehow survived whatever the Commission has put him through and retained his integrity.  He helps people.  Just to help them.  For no other reason and always at the cost of himself.”

Hawks wasn’t quite sure that he was breathing.  All the praise was overwhelming, and so…so was the admission that one of the high-ranking pros was Dabi’s father.  How could that—how could that even be?  It, wasn’t possible, who…

“Ow—” Dabi suddenly exclaimed, pulling Hawks up so that his claws were no longer piercing into his leg.  “Careful of the staples, bird-cat!”

Hawks forced the claws to retract, trying to back up with Dabi’s hands holding his shoulders.

Dabi set him back down, looking apologetic.  “Sorry for shouting,” He murmured, rubbing Hawks’ ears again.  “You don’t need to look so shaken.  Hey, are you hungry?”

He set Hawks down beside him on the uncomfortable couch and stood up. 

“I mean, I know if I feed you I’ll never be able to get rid of you, but you’ve been in the wars today, huh little fella?  First you were lying on the ground like you were dead, and then you got your tail jammed in the door for following me, and now you’ve had the fright of your life so I suppose I owe you some food.”

He reached into a cupboard that looked empty and pulled out a can of tuna from the back before opening it carefully, without spilling anything.  He tipped it into a bowl, oil and all, and then scrounged through the draws until he found a spoon. 

Hawks watched him, hungry all at once.  At least he wasn’t going to be forced to eat cat food, that was a nice benefit. 

Dabi ate about four mouthfuls as he walked over and then set it on the ground, the spoon still in his mouth.  “Here.” He murmured, before standing again and walking away.  Hawks finished off the tuna in his absence, surprised to find that it tasted a lot better than normal now that he was a cat.  When Dabi returned he wasn’t wearing his villain clothes anymore, but a pair of tracksuit pants with a hole in each knee that were particularly ragged around his ankles.  He had a faded shirt on too, patternless and brandless.  It was a little big for him, Hawks thought, tilting his head.  Dabi had his villain coat in his hand, and he slipped it on over the top as he walked over and picked up Hawks’ spotless bowl.  Hawks licked his lips pointedly, still feeling a little peckish. 

Dabi laughed.  “Wow, aren’t you polite.” He said facetiously.  “Go catch your own food, you mangy stray.”

He washed the bowl and spoon and put them away and then wondered back over to select a worn book out of a shelf that only housed six books in total, all equally worn.  They must’ve been read at least seventy times each to be looking like that. 

When he settled back onto the couch Hawks gave up on begging for food, and climbed up too, with a very human-sounding sigh.  At least he could still sigh.  Small mercies. 

He sat beside Dabi for a while, bored, his tail flicking about.  At some point he shoved his nose into the side of Dabi’s leg enough times that the villain began absently tracing his fingers through the fur on Hawks’ back and that made the boredom go away because it felt nice and Dabi’s hands were warm and no one ever touched Hawks unless they were being pervy. 

The sun dipped below the horizon sometime later and Dabi sighed and set the book back on the shelf without marking the page he was up to.  Huh, odd.  He probably knew the story too well to need a bookmark. 

Hawks hopped up and followed him when he walked over to the second room in the house, peeking past his ankles to look into the bedroom.  Well, it did have a bed.  But that was the only ‘bedroomy’ thing about it.  He could see a closed wardrobe and that was…all there was.  Dabi grabbed whatever he’d come in to get, and pushed Hawks gently out the door with his foot before closing it behind him and leading the way to the bathroom.  Hawks growled a little at not being able to snoop further and begrudgingly followed him again.  The bathroom was clean, but empty.  If a bathroom could be empty.  There was a toilet and a shower cramped into the space, and a vanity with a scratched mirror that showed a warped reflection.  It was hard to make out because it was so dark.  Hawks meowed pointedly, scratching at the wall beneath the light switch.  Dabi shooed him away with his foot.

“Oh stop complaining,” he complained, “There’s no electricity.  You’re a cat, you can definitely see in the dark.  And if you’re just scratching my wall to annoy me—the more realistic option seeing as you’re a cat and cats don’t comprehend electricity—I’ll lock you outside and you can go back to wherever you came from.”

Hawks groaned and rolled onto his back, letting Dabi try to shove him out the door with his foot again but making himself as loose and heavy as he could so that it didn’t really work.

Dabi barked out a laugh at his antics and went back to brushing his teeth, unconcerned.  When he was done, he walked over to the window and leaned out.  “It’s a warm night,” He murmured, “That’s good.”

Hawks hopped up onto the windowsill beside him and poked his nose under Dabi’s arm to inspect.  He didn’t think it was particularly warm out there.  It was just…not freezing yet.  He shrugged and darted back down before hopping onto the uncomfortable couch and curling into the threadbare blanket.  He might as well stay the night.  There wasn’t much else he could do. 

Dabi raised an eyebrow.  “You want the blanket huh…I suppose that’s okay.  You can have it for tonight.”

And he slipped into his own room, closing the door with a soft click.

It wasn’t until much later that night, when Hawks was shifting about on the uncomfortable couch to find a spot that was a little more soft, that he paused.  Dabi hadn’t…eaten anything other than those few mouthfuls of tuna.  Had he…eaten earlier in the day?  It couldn’t have been since at least lunch, because Hawks had been with him.  He glanced over at the kitchen, and there was no refrigerator either.  Oh, no power, right…but that was strange too.  Surely an apartment like this place had power.  It was dingy to an unbelievable level, but everything had power these days. 

He settled back down, frowning a little.  Well, whatever…

Chapter Text

Hawks was woken up by Dabi even earlier than he would normally get up to begin hero work.  He typically rose at 5.30 or 6, but Dabi was up at 3.30, when it was definitely still dark. 

“Sorry to wake you,” He murmured quietly as he passed, closing the window.  “You can go back to sleep, don’t worry.”

Hawks made a small sleepy sound and curled a little more into the threadbare blanket.  It was cold now, enough so that Dabi’s breath turned the air white.  He was still wearing his villain coat, had he really slept in it?  Wow, that was a new extreme.  Villains and their aesthetics. 

Now being awake, Hawks found that he didn’t enjoy the faint discomfort of the cold touching his fur, he shifted again and Dabi noticed this time.  He flared his flame for a moment before he seemed satisfied and leaned down to run his now quirk-warmed hands through Hawks’ fur.  Hawks arched into the touch.  Oh so waaarm. 

Dabi’s fingers were…trembling.  But maybe Hawks was imagining it.

“You’re cold, right?” The villain asked.  “Sorry, here.”

He tugged off his coat and draped it across Hawks, who dived beneath it with a pleased exclamation.  It was warm from Dabi’s body, and smelled good too, faintly of forest fire, the interesting mix of burning pine oil, and the rough smell of singed wood.  It also smelt of old books, clearly the ones Dabi had read so many times that they’d become a part of his scent.  And there was something that was just registered as Dabi in Hawks’ head.  That was the strongest smell, and wasn’t really like anything else. 

When he poked his head back out of the collar of the coat, Dabi was leaning against the back of the couch, absently running his hands up and down his arms, tremors wracking his surprisingly thin body.  He was much bigger than Hawks now that he was locked in a cat’s body, but right in the moment, curled a little forward and gazing dazed and exhausted at nothing, he looked…small.  Hawks paused. 

Was he…he was cold?

But, he’d given Hawks his coat, and he had a fire quirk, and when Hawks had seen his bed he hadn’t had any blankets on it, so he surely ran hot.

Hawks leaned forward enough to bat his head against the villain’s arm, nearly recoiling back from how icy his skin was.  Dabi started, “Sorry.” He said again, and his fire flared in his hand once more before he pressed it to his arm for a moment until his eyebrows scrunched in pain and he let go.  “It’ll be warmer now.”

But Hawks could smell…burning.  He’d just burnt himself.  When he hopped onto the back of the couch, he could see that Dabi’s hand was red, one of the staples a little melted in the corner.  Did Dabi burn that quickly?  Even though he had a fire quirk?  Hawks knew he overheated in battle, but Dabi always made it seem like he could last at least an hour or so.  Just now though…he’d burnt in moments.  Hawks pressed his nose against Dabi’s arm, and sure, the skin was warm but Dabi pressed his lips together the slightest bit and Hawks knew it hurt him.  After a moment, the villain was shivering again, hunching over to conserve warmth, hands tucked under his armpits.

Hawks jumped back down to the couch, pawing at the coat in distress.  Like always, Dabi noticed in just a moment.  “Useless cat,” he said softly, smiling slightly.  “Here.”

He picked Hawks up, warm fingers slipping under his chest, and wrapped the coat around him, setting him back on the couch.  But that—that wasn’t what Hawks wanted.  He wanted Dabi to take back the coat, because Hawks was covered in fur and hadn’t even been cold enough to be shivering.  Dabi’s lips looked blue, even in the dark, and his skin was covered in goosebumps. 

Hawks made another loud, upset noise, and Dabi reached down to pat him, losing the meagre bubble of warmth he’d just created by being hunched over.  “It’s alright bird-cat,” he murmured kindly.  “Go back to sleep.”  He stroked him silently for a long moment before he continued, softer now.  “You’re lucky, I’m so tired…but it’s too cold to sleep.  It’s better if I’m awake and moving.  Just a couple more hours until dawn.” He looked at his wrist with the melted staple, expression going bitter.  “It’d be nice if my quirk wasn’t so useless, then I could use the flame to read, but no, my skin starts melting.”

As it was, Hawks didn’t sleep.  He stayed awake, watching Dabi tremble for hours, unable to do anything about it.  He had no wings to wrap him in—and even the thought of wrapping Dabi in his wings was surprising.  Hawks didn’t like people touching his wings, he didn’t like it when they grabbed his feathers, or asked him to hold a wing around their shoulders for a picture.  But he wanted so badly to wrap this shivering villain in his wings and cocoon him in warmth, so badly that it was startling.  Every time he tried to climb out of the coat and lean against Dabi, the villain would just carefully push him back in and start stroking his back, like he thought Hawks was looking for attention.  Stretching his arm out like that revealed the whole left side of his chest to the cold though, and it made the villain’s trembling worse so Hawks was quick to stop, left with no other option but to try not to whine aloud. 

Finally, finally, the sun rose high enough into the sky that it started to warm.  At about eight, Dabi walked over to his bedroom and returned wearing the villain clothes he always wore.  He knelt before Hawks and ruffled his ears.  “Come on, little cat.  Let’s go back to your friends now.  I have to do stuff for the League.” He chuckled.  “I might need my coat back too.”

He scooped up Hawks, who took the opportunity to squirm out of the coat and press as much of his body as he could to Dabi’s neck in an effort to warm him.  It was about when they got to the door that Hawks realised something, shoving himself out of the villain’s arms and running back into the kitchen.  He pawed pointedly at the cupboard door.

Dabi’s expression fell a little.  “I thought cats were only supposed to eat one meal a day, fuzzface.  Are you really that hungry?”

Hawks pawed at it more incessantly, it wasn’t him that he was worried about.  Dabi had to eat, he must’ve been starving.  All he’d had last night had been four measly mouthfuls of tuna, and he’d given most of it to Hawks, who was currently a random stray cat. 

Dabi knelt before the cupboard and opened it, and Hawks actually backed up a little in shock at how empty it was, eyes wide as they flicked from thing to thing.  There was one more can of tuna, and a half empty packet of rice, and two random cans of corn.  Dabi reached for the tuna and again tipped it into a bowl, not wasting any of the oil.  He looked at it for a long moment before he seemed to break and grabbed a spoon to eat a single mouthful before he set it before Hawks.

Hawks backed up again, shaking in distress.

No—No.  He didn’t want it, he wanted Dabi to eat it.

Dabi’s expression turned miserable, his eyes dimming.  He laughed, but it didn’t sound happy.  “Sorry little one,” He murmured, stroking Hawks’ back.  “I don’t have anything else, you’ll have to settle for the tuna.  I thought cats liked tuna.  Pretty sure you don’t eat corn…”

Hawks turned and pressed his face into Dabi’s hand, nuzzling against it.  He wanted to cry.  He wanted his mouth back, the one that could make words.  He wanted his wings back, and he wanted his hands back too. 

Did the villain really live like this?  Did he really eat nothing?  Would he really give what tiny tiny amount of food he seemed to have to a cat?

Hawks tried, he tried to push the food back to Dabi, but the villain just looked to the corn like he was considering seeing if Hawks really would prefer it and Hawks had eaten the tuna, because he didn’t want Dabi to give him any more. 

When the bowl was washed and Hawks was sitting silently on the floor, his ears drooping low enough to almost cover his eyes, Dabi carefully picked him up again.  “C’mon little cat, don’t look so sad.” He chided gently, rubbing the fur around Hawks’ scruff.  “You’ve got a full belly now, you can’t be that unhappy.” He sighed.  “I’ll take you back to the other cats, maybe you’ll be happier with your friends.”

Hawks looked up at Dabi, his golden eyes settling heavily on him.  Friends…? He wondered.  He wasn’t friends with those cats.  It was only Dabi that he had any interest in.  He walked morosely by his feet as Dabi led the way back to the strays from the day before.  Dabi picked him up one more time before he left him, ruffling his fur with achingly gentle fingers.  “Don’t tell them,” he whispered with a grin that was too boyish to be Dabi’s, surely.  It—jarringly—made Hawks want to kiss him.  Made him want to trap it beneath his mouth and mould it’s feel into his skin so that he couldn’t forget such expression. “But I think you’re the softest cat here.  You’re warm too, like a little waterbottle.  Thanks for staying the night, bird-cat.  It’s less lonely to have company, you know?”

And then he was placed so carefully that it hurt, back on the ground beside the other felines.  Really, he should take this time to find the way back to the Commission and see if he could somehow let them know what had happened.  He could always return to Dabi for more…spying, after.  He knew where he lived now.  But then his paws were padding off without his consent, darting through the shadows after the villain as he walked away, following him because he couldn’t bear to leave him alone. 

Dabi walked for a long time.  When he finally stopped, it was with a heavy sigh of dread.  He stood at the entrance of an alleyway, silently considering whatever was inside it, and then he slipped his hands out of his pockets and walked closer. 

Hawks ran up to the entrance and froze, stock still.  Inside…were bodies.  About four of them.  Two bore cuts—Spinner or Toga, one was partially dusted—Shigaraki, and the last was lying beside a shattered marble, cause of death uncertain.  Mr Compress then, presumably. 

Dabi knelt at the side of the first and his hand ignited, carefully surrounding the body in blue flame.  There was no joy in his expression when he moved onto the second, or the third—and then all four bodies were slowly burning away to nothing, returned to the earth.  Finally he stood and walked back towards where Hawks was, stepping straight past the garbage can Hawks was crouched behind. 

Hawks looked back at the corpses.

Dabi had a body count that increased every week.

Dabi was the primary killer in the League

Dabi was prone to being short tempered, prone to burning his victims to piles of ash on the ground, prone to being merciless and leaving no survivors.  No one who had survived a League attack had ever said it had been Dabi they’d been fighting.

It wasn’t because Dabi didn’t leave survivors.

It was because Dabi didn’t fight them.

Dabi wasn’t the primary killer in the League.  He was just their personal crematorium. 

- - -

Hawks trailed after Dabi for most of the day, stuck in a cycle of shock.  He returned two more bodies to the earth they came from, and then slipped into a small run-down supermarket to buy food.  Not much, he only bought more rice, more tuna, canned beans, and a small packet of eggs.  He also snatched a cheap box of black hair dye off the shelf and Hawks blinked, surprised to realise that…Dabi’s hair wasn’t naturally black?

The villain wore a face mask and some scratched sunglasses, his hair falling over his ears to somewhat hide the scars.  Nonetheless, when he was leaned over, reading the prices of the dyes, Hawks’ ears picked up a gasp a little down the aisle, and he looked up to see a child staring at Dabi, pointing in recognition.

Hawks sprung out of his hiding spot beneath the fruit trays and streaked down the aisle to roll onto his back before her, wriggling around.  The girl, who couldn’t be older than nine, shrieked in excitement and stopped tugging on her mother’s arm to get her attention, immediately dropping down to pat him instead.  He purred as loudly as he could, but it was a little difficult to do because he didn’t like being touched by this girl even half as much as he did by Dabi.  Her small fingers caught in his fur and they weren’t soft and warm.  There was no deep chuckle, or fond cerulean eyes watching him like he was terribly adorable.  Her touch didn’t make his chest feel like it was glowing, didn’t make him sleepy and comfortable.  Her hands didn’t smell like old books, they smelt like sugar from where she must’ve been eating a lollipop.

When Hawks looked back up, Dabi had disappeared, presumably having paid at the self-serve boxes and left.  He launched to his feet and bolted out the door after him.

He came to a screeching stop out the front, head swinging back and forth as he tried to figure out where he’d gone.  Hawks’ directional sense while on the ground was substantially worse than when he was in the air, if he lost him now who knew how long it would take to find him again.

A hand settled on the scruff of his neck, picking him up.  “I thought that was you.” Dabi sighed, and Hawks realised he’d been leaning against the side of the building behind him.  “Little cat, I’m serious, you can’t just follow me around like that.”

Hawks meowed at him and wagged his tail.  Dabi squinted at him, looking confused. 

Ah, right.  Wrong animal.

He stopped wagging his tail. 

Damn, he needed a manual for this body.  How did cats express excitement?  Were they even capable of it?  Nasty little things probably weren’t, with the amount of innocent bird lives that they ended.

Dabi set him back down on the ground, laughing as he shook his head.  “The expressions you make are out of this world little cat.  Okay fine.” He said. “Just for a little longer.  Come on then, we’ll go home.  I want to have a shower before it’s too cold.”

And Hawks shifted to walk just a little closer to his legs because clearly Dabi didn’t have hot water if he had to have a shower when it wasn’t cold. 

Dabi pulled his phone out of his pocket, a cheap burner phone that Hawks had always presumed was his second phone for contacting Hawks but now wondered otherwise.  Dabi sighed and put it away again.  Hawks tilted his head at him.  “The hero.” He clarified, like talking to a cat was an everyday occurrence that was totally normal.  “The one I told you about, remember?  Hawks.  He’s not answering, it’s just weird, he’s usually pretty quick about stuff like that.  I hope Shigaraki hasn’t…”

Ah, right.  His phone.  He had no idea where it was.  He also had no idea where his clothes or anything else was either. 

They walked by a television shop, and Dabi paused, looking through the window at the many broadcasts playing.  Two young boys were sitting on the ground out the front, chatting animatedly as they unabashedly watched the TV through the window.  They were on the hero news channel, watching all the livestreams.  “Has Hawks been on today?” Dabi asked them, falling to a stop.

One of the boys looked up.  “Nah,” He said, sounding bummed.  “He hasn’t fought anyone.  Hawks is always on TV!  Maybe he’s sick today…”

“Chill.” His friend said with a casual shrug.  “We get to see more Endeavor, so who cares?  I wanna see All Might again, why is he never on TV anymore?”

Dabi rolled his eyes and continued walking.  He looked at his phone twice more as they walked before he gave up.  When they got to his apartment he let Hawks in, holding the door so his tail didn’t get stuck again.  He was set on the couch and then Dabi disappeared into the bathroom.

After what felt like forever, the door opened again and Dabi walked out.  Hawks looked up.

His breath caught audibly enough in his throat that Dabi glanced at him.

He was just wearing his villain pants, nothing else.  A dark coloured towel around his neck.  But his hair…it was…

White. 

Not a dirty white, an entire white.  A snow white.  The colour of new paper, and the moon on its brightest night.  The colour of clouds, and white roses, and jasmine flowers, and marshmallows.

“Yeah,” Dabi murmured, running his hand through it.  “Pretty startling, right?  It was red when I was born, bright red, like blood.  But then…my world turned to hell and my hair turned white.  There’s a name for it, a woman’s name, like Marie?  Marie Antoinette syndrome, I think….  My father always said that it because my mother had white hair, but when I asked her, she told me she didn’t believe that.” He sighed.  “The stupid dye won’t stay in it at all though.  I put it under water for a moment and it just washes straight out.  I don’t know if it’s because the dye is cheap or because my hair is just stubbornly trying to stay white.  I’ll re-dye it in a moment I guess, but—” He suddenly paused, staggering a step, his hand coming up to clutch at his face.  He sunk unsteadily to the ground, eyes squeezed shut.

Hawks leapt off the couch and ran over.  What was going on?  Was he injured?!

Hawks nudged against his hand, but Dabi didn’t seem to notice.  His breaths were sharp, and Hawks pressed more firmly against him, trying to see what was wrong.  After a second Dabi curled over himself, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed to the ground.  Another moment passed and then Dabi drew in a long breath and opened his eyes.  They looked hazy, not entirely focused.

He finally noticed Hawks, his gaze flicking to the cat before he sat slowly up and let his fingers sink into the fur around Hawks’ ears.  Hawks mewled in distress, turning his head to let Dabi pat him as much as he wanted to. 

“It’s okay, little cat.” The villain finally murmured.  “I’m just hungry.  It makes me dizzy sometimes, and my chest hurts.  Sometimes it’s hard to breath…it’s nothing too bad.” He leaned his head back against the back of the couch, closing his eyes like it was too hard to keep them open. 

Anemia, Hawks realised, whining softly, shit Dabi…

Dabi eventually stood up and walked over to the small pile of shopping he’d left on the table.  He lit the stove with an ignited finger and cooked rice in a small dented saucepan.  His movements were sluggish though, and he kept shaking his head lightly like he was still dizzy.  He hissed at one point, when he burnt his hand on the flame, but he just shook his hand out like he’d spilt water on it instead and continued.  Burns were every day for Dabi, and the gas flame wasn’t as intense as his own flame. 

Hawks sat on his foot and leaned against his leg, frustrated almost to tears at how useless he was.  He looped his tail tightly around the villain’s ankle, pressing his face into the loose fabric of his pants.  Wasn’t he supposed to be a hero?  What kind of hero was he, if he could call Dabi a villain?  What even was a villain?  What were the requirements?  How did the Commission label them?  What made one a villain?  What was the grand old difference from a hero?  Was it just the situation you were in?  Were the most unlucky people in their society the ones they called ‘villains’?  Were the least privileged people ‘villains’?  Were the people who could survive on nothing the best, were they ‘villains’?

When the rice was cooked Dabi opened a little can of beans too and tipped them on top, absently stirring them through.  He ate in silence, gaze far away.  Hawks slipped onto his lap and curled up.

Dabi finished, dropping his forehead onto the table.  He grinned down at Hawks.  “Food always tastes better when you’re hungry, did you know?” He laughed slightly.  “Probably why I love food so much.  Although fish…it always tastes pretty bad.  Tuna just happens to be cheap sadly…”

And Hawks would’ve started silently crying if Dabi hadn’t looked genuinely content for the first time since he’d been turned into a cat.

“I’m going to dye my hair.” Dabi told him, setting him down on the ground.  Hawks followed him, ignoring the raised eyebrow it got him.  Bathrooms were dangerous places, what if Dabi got dizzy again?  He might smack his head on the tile.

He perched regally upon the closed toilet, watching as Dabi’s hair was returned to its normal black.  He thought he knew who Dabi’s father was.  He wanted to pretend he didn’t, but he thought he knew.

1. Endeavor
2. Himself
3. Best Jeanist
4. Edgeshot
5. Miruko
6. Crust
7. Kamui Woods
8. Wash
9. Equipped Hero Yoroi Musha
10. Ryuuku

Out of them, the ones eliminated immediately were the girls and the mutant types—since Dabi was an emitter type—leaving only Endeavor, Jeanist, Edgeshot, Crust, and Yoroi.  Edgeshot, Crust, and Jeanist were too young and Yoroi was too old.

Which neatly drew the list down to 1.

Fire. Eyes. White hair. Hatred of the flame hero. Quirk that burned his body. Lack of existence prior to a few years ago.

There was nothing that didn’t check out.

Hawks blocked out all the thoughts and questions that came to his mind.  He didn’t want to think about it right now.  Or ever, really.

- - -

“It’s a cold night today.” Dabi said softly, leaning out the window as the sun dropped.  He growled in annoyance and turned to go to his room.  Hawks followed hot on his trail.  “What, you’re coming are you?” Dabi asked wryly, turning back to the couch to grab the threadbare blanket and his villain coat.  “Alright, little waterbottle, I’ll allow it.”

The night, Hawks curled up against his chest, and hoped that the villain was shivering less than normal.

- - -

Another two days passed like this, with Hawks trailing after Dabi everywhere he went.  The villain was better company than most people Hawks knew, even if he was talking to a cat like it was totally normal.  He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from him when he spoke, uncaring of what the topic was.  He sometimes spoke about random things that entered his mind, like food, or how ugly certain shops were, or which alleyway he should go down—the one with less people or the one that got him there faster.  But he also spoke about hero society, small comments about his siblings and the League, an offside mention that he wasn’t the only hungry one in their group.  He checked his phone a lot, too.  And he sometimes spoke about Hawks.  Infrequently, but he also hadn’t said anything bad about him yet.  It was sort of amazing, Hawks hadn’t imagined that Dabi might actually like him.  But the villain harboured none of the resentment towards him that he did towards Endeavor and the other heroes.  Dabi respected that Hawks was so friendly with his fans, that he didn’t break any of their hearts by not living up to their perceptions of him.  He liked that Hawks was careful not to kill the villains he fought.  He liked that he questioned their society, and broke their hero norms.  He’d even mentioned once, somewhat longingly, that Hawks’ wish for a world that was happy enough that heroes weren’t needed sounded like a good thing to believe in, no matter how unrealistic it was.

Dabi was…really not the person that the Commission databanks portrayed him as.

On the fifth morning, when Dabi got up he was silent.  He cooked a bowl of rice and ate it with corn rather than beans this time.  He gave Hawks more tuna, too.  Then he snatched up his coat and disappeared out the door.

It was only when they turned in a direction that Dabi had never led them before that Hawks really thought something was different.

And then the streets began to get nicer, more crowded, and he stepped closer to Dabi’s legs, confused.  The villain pulled a mask and sunglasses on at some point, tugging a cap low over his eyes.

Then all at once the street was familiar and Hawks jolted, looking up at Dabi.  He pawed at Dabi’s leg, meowing to get his attention.  Dabi scooped him up and grinned.  “You know who lives up there?” He whispered, slipping around the back of a building and pulling down the fire escape ladder.  “Hawks does, but don’t tell him I know or he’ll definitely drop me off the edge of a tall building, and I happen to hate heights.”

Hawks blinked silently, rather surprised.  Then he yowled, incredulous.  Just who did Dabi think he was?!  Hawks only dropped people off small buildings. 

And Dabi…no, he wouldn’t do that to this deceptively gentle villain.  Especially not if he was scared of heights.  The idea made him queasy, he didn’t want to think about Dabi falling like that, didn’t want to imagine it, to see the glow leave his luminous eyes cold and glassy.

Dabi reached the top quicker than Hawks would have thought, but then he no doubt wanted to get up before anyone spotted him.  He leaned against the balcony railing for a long moment, eyes hazy like they were when he was dizzy from hunger, and Hawks was quick to grab his sleeve in his teeth and tug him towards the door.

“Feeling playful today, huh, little cat?” Dabi huffed, sounding exhausted but amused.  He walked over to the balcony and slid open the sliding glass, looking only slightly surprised to find it unlocked.  “Figures that the idiot doesn’t know what a door lock is.” He snorted.  “What was his plan if a villain broke in?”

Skewer them with my wings…Hawks thought mildly, I mean, I have feathers everywhere, so it’s practically my own alarm system.  A little useless right now though, I must say. 

“Hawks?” Dabi called into the dark apartment.  “Hey, look, it’d be nice if you didn’t stab me, so if you’re here can you hear me out first?”

He leaned around the wall to peer into the bedroom, frowning.  “What the hell…?” He murmured, opening the door.  “He’s seriously not here?”

He walked back out into the main room, flicking the light on.  His gaze caught on the desk against the wall, Hawks’ paperwork still sprawled exactly how he’d left it, laptop lid not even closed.  Dabi sunk into his chair and clicked the power button, turning it on.  Hawks hopped onto the table beside him as he hummed tunelessly, staring at the password screen that had sprung up.  With a sigh, Hawks nudged the empty box of KFC on the table over to him with his nose and Dabi ruffled his ears, not paying attention.  Then his cerulean gaze flicked back to it.  “Huuuh,” He said, “I bet his password is something stupid.”

Hawks watched, amazed, as Dabi typed ‘KentuckyFriedChicken’ into the password bar and hit enter.  You know…he thought, I didn’t think that would work.  My password is either way too transparent or you’re a literal genius Dabi.

The computer opened, password accepted.  Dabi snorted.  “Wow.”

He opened an internet tab first, and looked up ‘Hawks’, filtering it to only show results from the last four days.  No results came up in the news tab, and it suddenly hit Hawks all at once what they were doing here.

Dabi was looking for him.

Out of all the people that could have noticed his absence, it was Dabi that was worried.  Hawks stared at him in utter shock.  The Commission hadn’t issued any missing person’s files to the media, even though the last contact they’d had with him had been them sending him off into a villain’s lair.  He wasn’t surprised at that one, after all, he was just a pawn to the Commission.  But the other heroes, Endeavor hadn’t noted his absence, Miruko hadn’t kicked in the front door or even been in here—she always left muddy footprints, so of that he was certain—and his agency hadn’t reported it either.  His fans hadn’t commented and the apartment keepers must’ve either been too blind to see all the delivery boxes that were no doubt sitting out the front of his door where they’d been left unclaimed or they just thought he didn’t care.  The only one who seemed to know him well enough to know he would never take a day off without a good reason was Dabi.  Everyone else had fallen for his lazy exterior.

Dabi’s fingers drummed quickly against the table as he thought.  He closed the internet tab and tilted the computer up to see beneath it.  On the bottom was a little sticker with the Commission logo on it.  “Commission certified…” He murmured.  He hit the central button on the computer and searched through it until he came to the app that all Commission certified computers were installed with.  Their central databank. 

Hawks tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.  What interest did Dabi have with the Commission’s virtual databank?  There was no way for him to log into it, because it logged out immediately after the app was closed, or timed out after five minutes of disuse.  Hawks couldn’t tell him the password either, because the ID login codes were quite literally an iris scan and a blood sample.  The Commission computers had a little section on the side where disks with a smear of blood could be inserted and removed, and they had an internal scanning system that some quirk genius had come up with to make sure the person logging in was who they claimed they were.

And since Hawks was currently a cat, Dabi definitely couldn’t log in through his account. 

“You want to know something funny?” Dabi asked, turning to the side draw of the desk and rifling through it until he found a small stack of the blood disks.  “The Commission has anti-hacking technology about as high profile as you can get all throughout their programs and online folders, but they also have a system that doesn’t delete pre-existing accounts.  They call them ‘dead accounts’, because the person the account belongs to is literally dead, but they remain in the database.  To open confidential files, you have to have an account with a ranking above S.  All accounts have a ranking, take Hawks’, I think it’s SS, so he should be able to access almost everything confidential.  Best Jeanist has an account ranked A, so he can’t access any of their torture files, but most other stuff is fair game.  Dead accounts however, have no ranking.  They just so happen to bypass everything.  No ranking, and suddenly you can access the whole network.” He scoffed.  “It’s almost stupid how easy it is.”

Dabi pressed his finger against the pin in the middle of the disk until a drop of blood welled up, then he slid it into the side of the computer.  Hawks’ eyes widened.  There was no way…

“I was enrolled in a Commission training program when I was eight.  I never actually got to do it, because my father pulled me out last minute when he decided I was too useless for such a thing, but, like I said, pre-existing accounts aren’t deleted if the person is dead.”

He leaned forward when the iris scan began glowing.  There was a small dinging noise, and then the AI installed in the computer activated.

“ID login accepted.  Welcome, Touya Todoroki.”

Hawks stared at it, not sure he was breathing.  Touya…was that Dabi’s real name?  It suited him.  Hawks liked it.  A lot. 

But ah, this whole thing with Dabi hacking into the entire Commission databank was kinda…uh, well, incredible really.

Dabi skimmed through the files.  He searched for the file under ‘Hawks’ first, but there was no recent entries or updates added so with a soft sigh he closed it.  “You know what else, little cat?  Those bastards keep all the nasty stuff they do to Hawks under his real name.  Fucked up idiots.”

Hawks’ eyes widened.

Dabi clicked the search bar and casually opened a file under ‘Keigo Takami’, like it wasn’t another of the many ground-breaking things he just casually did while Hawks was a cat. 

Now…Hawks didn’t even know that file existed.  It was certainly locked to his account, he’d never seen it before.

Dabi skimmed through it and Hawks stared and stared.  Stared as years of ‘training’ routines popped up, moments when he’d been punished unfairly for failing at tasks, or ‘fasting’ that had really been them starving him to make sure he had a figure that was ideal for magazines, or removing the feathers that weren’t on his wings, like the ones on his wrists and shoulders, the smattering that had one been on his cheeks and in his hair.  And at the bottom of all that were all the report files on his infiltration of the League.

Hawks slowly looked at Dabi, but the villain only seemed resigned.  He sighed, “Well, I already guessed he was a traitor I suppose, shouldn’t be surprised…oh, he knows I hate fish.  How the fuck did he figure that out?” He leaned back on the chair, laughing.  “What, is the Commission gonna throw fish on me in the next fight…might actually work.  Best strategy they’ve come up with yet really.”

Hawks settled down, laying his face on his paws.  If he’d been able to he would have snickered.  Dabi had actually mentioned it once, although he couldn’t remember the conversation they’d been having that had led to that.

Dabi reached the end of the file and let the chair legs fall back onto the ground as he straightened.  “Well.” He said.  “This has been completely useless.  He’s not here and the Commission has no idea where he is either.  Oh little cat, where is that dumb bird?”

Hawks nuzzled against his shoulder and Dabi smiled, lifting him up.  “Might as well look around for a bit, see if he’s been here recently…” He said softly, standing and then setting Hawks down on the counter in the kitchen.  Hawks immediately ran over to the nearest doorless cupboard and closed his teeth around the cardboard box of protein bars, dragging them over to Dabi and depositing them next to him.  He trotted back for a box of chocolates someone had given him that he’d never eaten and dragged them over too, and it was as he was running back to get the bag of quick noodles that Dabi finally noticed the growing pile next to his elbow and plucked him up.  “No, little cat!” He admonished, scooping up the boxes and quickly putting them back.  “You little thief, you can’t just steal stuff that you want!” He snorted, and added quietly, “You are very clearly the pet of a villain.”

Hawks whined loudly, struggling to escape Dabi’s gentle grasp so he could go back and get them again.  Dabi had to eat more food.  He was going end up in a fight one day soon, a fight he wouldn’t be strong enough to win, and that thought terrified Hawks.  He was worried about the moments when Dabi suddenly swayed and sunk to his knees, eyes going hazy with anemia.  He felt like crying every time they went to bed and Dabi’s stomach growled, felt like crying when Dabi just silently tightened the arms he had wrapped around Hawks and didn’t complain.  He wanted Dabi to be soft with health, wanted his stomach to be full with warm food and his ribs to disappear beneath a layer of healthy fat.

Dabi shushed his whining quietly, bringing him to his chest so that he could stroke his back.  “You can have more food when we get home,” He said softly, “I’ll even give you the whole tin of tuna this time, I won’t eat any of it, promise.  I made you walk such a long way today, you must be starving.  I know how hungry I am, I wonder if there’s an egg left...”

Hawks whimpered.

“Don’t cry, little cat,” Dabi murmured helplessly.  “You can’t steal Hawks’ food, he’ll have even more reason to dislike me.”

Hawks shoved his nose into Dabi’s collarbone, knowing that could never be true and wishing he could tell him just how little Dabi would be able to do to make Hawks dislike him.  Dabi just ran soothing hands down his back, still quietly apologising into his fur like any of this was his fault.

When they got to his bedroom, Hawks hopped out of his arms and ran to the cupboard, dragging out the fluffiest blanket there and hauling it over to Dabi.  He had to take this at least, if he wouldn’t take the food he had to take one of the twenty blankets that Hawks had messily stacked in the cupboard, he was clearly in no shortage of them. 

Dabi startled when it brushed against his bare ankle, glancing down.  He smiled faintly.  “You like the fluffy blanket, huh?” He sat down beside him and pulled both Hawks and the blanket into his lap.  “Trust Hawks to have something like this, it’s so obnoxiously fuzzy…” Dabi buried his face in it and Hawks begged anything that would listen that the stupid selfless villain would act more like his namesake and just take this single thing from someone who clearly had plenty when he had so little himself.

Hawks had never felt so entitled or spoilt or stupidly rich before in his entire life, and he’d grown up in a household where food had been more uncommon then common, so that was saying something.  How had he so easily forgotten what hunger felt like?

“It smells good…” Dabi murmured, and Hawks startled, glancing up at him.  He had this expression Hawks had never seen before, soft and longing.  “It smells just like the dumb idiot, I bet he likes this one.  It’s warm and furry, I would like it too if it was mine.”

It was perhaps the most overwhelmingly adorable expression Hawks had ever seen, and he felt speechless, staring at Dabi because he wanted to paint the image of him like this into his mind, curled around Hawks’ blanket, so unguarded and soft, acknowledging that at some point Hawks had walked past him and Dabi had been paying enough attention to notice his scent and remember it.  Just how long had Dabi been watching him?  While Hawks had looked on, unaware that there was anything more to villain than the cold exterior he portrayed.  Dabi was so careful not to let anyone in, so determined not to drag anyone down with him while he suffered quietly, all alone, his kindness reserved for stray cats that would never return his gentle touches.  Nobody was ever soft with Dabi.  Nobody stroked his hair, or kept him warm, or ever hugged him—or even just touched him like he was a person, rather than a monster that couldn't be loved.  Did he even know that there was such a thing as unconditional affection?

Dabi stood up and folded the blanket carefully, setting it down on the end of the bed and smoothing it down with his hands.  He turned away after a moment, sliding his hands into his pockets, and Hawks just fell to the ground in an upset jumble, curling into a ball because Dabi wouldn’t take it, he already knew. 

“Little cat…” Dabi said gently when he saw how inconsolable he was, reaching out to comfort him and then pausing before his fingers touched his fur.  The villain suddenly dropped his head, swallowing thickly.  “You know…” he whispered.  “Little cat, if you stay here, I’m sure Hawks would look after you.  You’d be much happier, he’d probably let you sleep on that fluffy blanket, and you could eat anything you wanted, proper cat food, like you’re really supposed to.  Probably the nicest cuts of meat.  I’m sure he has a heater here, and you’d love his feathers.  You could bat them around all day.  Hawks is…well.  If I left a note on his bench, I’m sure he would take you in.  He’s like that.”

Hawks sat there looking up at him, and his chest crumpled.  Because the villain was smiling fondly at him, like always, but he looked like he should have been crying instead.

“I don’t know why you’ve been following me around, anyway.” He breathed, and his voice trembled slightly.

Dabi was...so lonely.  So alone and so sad and so...and so kind, and it hurt Hawks in a way nothing else ever had because this wasn't fair.  Why?  Why had the world turned around and swore its hatred upon Dabi?  Why did it have to hurt him so much?

Hawks knew he wanted to see every part of Dabi, wanted to see the different smiles he bore, wanted to hear every detail he wanted to tell, wanted to touch his neck and his face and bury his hands in his hair and kiss his forehead.  Wanted to see what he would do if Hawks kissed his lips too, or wrapped him in his wings, or proved to him that he didn’t care about the mission the Commission had assigned him anymore.

Dabi stood up and walked out of the bedroom without glancing back, heading towards the glass door of the balcony.

Hawks streaked after him all at once, because he’d realised—it didn’t matter how lonely Dabi was.  Didn’t matter how much he cared about the cat he thought Hawks was.  He’d leave Hawks here without a second glance if he thought it would give him a happier life.  He ran straight between his legs and extended his claws to dig them deep into the leather of Dabi’s boots.  Dabi very nearly tripped over, quickly righting himself and scooping Hawks’ small body up, panic clear on his features as he ran hands over him looking for injuries.  “Little cat!” He breathed sharply, “Don’t do that!  Did I step on you?!  Are you alright?  Please don’t be hu—” Hawks licked his nose gently.

Dabi sunk to the ground, burying his face in Hawks’ chest.  “Idiot.” He whispered.  “No running between my feet.  Especially not if you want to stay in my freezing box of a home over this nice place.”

Hawks nuzzled into his coat, purring loud enough that the fabric trembled where it touched his body.

He wouldn’t leave him. 

He would stay with Dabi and not let him drown in loneliness again.

Chapter Text

“Dabsie!” Someone sung outside the door, late the next night.  Hawks blinked blearily from where he was curled up on Dabi’s stomach, purring like an engine.  The villain closed the book he was reading—no doubt for the 120^th time—looking equally sleepy, and set Hawks down on the uncomfortable couch to go and answer the door.

Much to Hawks’ shock, it was Toga who danced in cheerily. 

“Dabsie!” She shrieked, throwing herself on him in a fierce hug.  “I need your help.” She stepped back and turned slightly to show him the side of her skirt.  “Look, it’s torn almost the whole way up…”

Dabi’s eyes widened slightly.  “Did you get hur—”

“Nah,” She said with a smile when he reached out like he was going to grab her shoulders and start checking her over for injuries.  “It wasn’t an attack, it’s just old.  The stitching is gone.”

She grabbed the threadbare blanket off the couch and slung it around her waist, shimmying out of the skirt to hand it to Dabi, who held it up to the light streaming in from the window.

“I can fix this.” He said eventually.  “Give me a moment.”

“Mmhm!” She nodded, “Thanks Da—cat!!  You have a cat?!!!”

Dabi flinched, but waved her in Hawks’ direction.  “Yeah, you can pat him if he lets you but just…don’t scare him away.” He rolled his eyes in her direction before disappearing into his room with the skirt. 

Toga slowly walked closer, eyes wide and excited.  “Oh my gosh…” She whispered, “You’re so cute…!”

She delicately settled beside him, not touching him, but buzzing with enough excitement that Hawks shook his head in silent laugher and moved his head so that she could touch his back.  He would endure.

“You know, Catsie,” She said cheerily, “Dabi is the only reason I’m alive.” Her expression went wistful, and Hawks wondered if it was normal in the League of Villains to strike up random conversations with random cats.  “At the base, there wasn’t enough rooms for everyone, and Dabi said he didn’t want to live with us because we were brats, but it was really because he wanted me to have somewhere safe to sleep.” Her expression changed to one more sombre than he’d thought a teenager like her capable of making.  Her face was lined with hardships, her eyes filled with the intelligence of someone who’s known hunger and pain and a bad life.  “He gave me a blanket too, and I don’t think he’s bought a new one for himself yet.  And he fixes all my clothes, and when I come over he gives me food.  He thinks that because I’m a teenager that I’m growing and I need it more than him.” Her gaze dropped to the floor.  “He’s just like a real brother, Catsie.  I’m pretty good at stealing things, with my quirk, but when I eat that food I still feel hungry after, you know?  It’s like it’s not a real meal if I take it from someone else.” She beamed at him, breaking out of the more subdued tone she’d taken on.  “I’m glad you’re keeping him company, you know, look after him for me, alright?!  He’s not very friendly, but he’s only like that because he doesn’t want people to get attached to him when he thinks he probably won’t live very long.  I bet he hasn’t even given you a name, but don’t let it fool you, Dabi loves things with his entire being, why do you think he was so hurt that his father never cared for him back?” She sighed loudly.  “Still, none of us are going to live very long.  There’s no way out.  We’re stuck in a loop of jail, death, or success, and I don’t think that Dabi really wants the kind of ‘success’ that Shigaraki does…and Shigi almost didn’t let Dabi into the League because Dabi often refuses to kill, he hates it—”

“Toga, why are you talking to a cat?” Dabi asked skeptically as he came back out, handing her the stitched skirt.

Hawks very nearly snorted out loud.  Like he was one to speak.

“Oh, like you don’t talk to him too!” She stuck her tongue out.  “Look at his eyebrows, they’re exactly like Hawksie’s!  That’s why you’ve kept him, isn’t it, because you sooooo have a crush on Hawksie!  You’re a total fan—”

“Mm, shut up now Crazy.”

“Ooooh, and he doesn’t even deny it.”

She settled onto the couch, proudly examining the now-fixed skirt.  “Oh, speaking of Hawksie!  Look at all these feathers I found!!” She dug into the pocket of her sweater and produced a handful of what were certainly his feathers.  Hawks hopped forward to examine them at the exact moment Dabi went stock-still.

“Where did you find them?” The pyromaniac breathed.  He shot to his feet.  “Show me.”

Toga must’ve heard the urgency in his voice because her cheeriness evaporated.  “Uh-huh,” she said simply, leading the way out the door.

In less than three minutes they were in the alleyway that Hawks recognised only by the bar on the left side.  Toga pointed to the doorway.  “They were just over there, blowing around like leaves…”

Her and Dabi simultaneously went pale.  Because a gust of wind had just blown out a dozen more red quills, dancing along the cracked concrete street.  Toga ran to pick them up, but Dabi rushed straight past her and down towards the back of the alley.  He stopped sharply, Hawks tumbling through his legs and onto the cap of his boot at the sudden halt.

Ah shit…Hawks thought, upon seeing what was there, this looks bad.

Half a metre in front of them, was Hawks’ entire wings worth of loose feathers.  And other things too.  His coat and his phone, the screen cracked and black.  His gloves and his goggles and his earrings, both of them.  What wasn’t there was his compression layer, pants, belt or boots.  It was like the things that were touching enough of his skin had disappeared with him, while the rest remained.

Silently, Dabi moved. 

He picked up each of the feathers, carefully lying them in Hawks’ coat before bundling the entire thing up and tucking it under his arm.  Toga passed him the dozen she’d collected and then knelt to say goodbye to Hawks, rubbing his furry ears before she waved at Dabi, and said uncertainly, “He’s not dead, Dabsie.  It’s okay…”

Dabi touched her shoulder in goodbye and was silent on the entire walk back to his apartment, Hawks trotting at his heels just to keep up with his lengthy paces.  When they got back, the villain set all of Hawks’ things on the table and then turned again.  He’d climbed out the window and up the side of the balcony almost quicker than Hawks could follow, and Hawks jumped out after him and scampered up the fire escape ladder with less difficulty than he had imagined, joining the villain on the roof, but something was wrong.

“You think he’s dead?” Dabi whispered like he was talking about the weather, sitting on the ledge of the roof, so close to the edge.  Hawks jumped onto his lap, if only so his weight would stop Dabi just being blown over the side like a petal in the wind.  He chuckled, sounding shocked, and his voice changed to the panic that Hawks could almost feel brewing beneath his skin.  “There’s no way Hawks would just leave his feathers there—what if he was hit with a quirk—I tried to keep him away from the League…this might be my fault, I told him to kill somebody, because I was certain he wouldn’t do it, but what if someone overheard and they—I mean, even Shigaraki might have…” He trailed off, freezing.  Then all at once he yanked his phone out of his pocket and it was chiming lightly as it called.

“Dabi,” the person on the other side groaned.  “What do you want?  It’s like 11 at night.”

“Shigaraki, did you kill Hawks?”

There was a long pause on the other side.  Hawks tried butting persistently against Dabi’s chest but the villain was oblivious to his attempts to calm him.

“Hawks is dead?” The leader of the League of Villains eventually muttered. “Seriously?  How is that…really?”

“You didn’t?” Dabi muttered, fingers tightening on the phone.

“Hah?  No, I didn’t kill the blond bimbo, are you telling me you don’t know who did?  My quirk is pretty recognisable you realis—”

“I don’t think he’s dead.”

“But you just said—”

“No, he’s not dead.”

“Dabi, are you high—”

“Bye boss.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me yo—”

Beep beep.

Well, Hawks thought distractedly, I can see that Dabi treats his boss very differently to how I am expected to treat mine.

Despite Dabi’s firm words, Hawks could still see the unease in the set of his shoulders.  Far from the first time, he wished he could just turn back and explain all of this.  But the woman had said one or two weeks and Hawks still had at least two days left.

“I don’t like killing things.” Dabi said abruptly, his gaze lost in the dark abyss of the alleyway as he stared down it.  The absence in his eyes was jarringly similar to the look he’d had all that time ago on the roof, when Hawks had had wings instead of fur.  “And I do it anyway.  Just like I told Hawks to kill somebody.  What if the Commission forces him to?!  He’ll never forgive himself…Little cat, I’ve killed exactly fourteen people, and the irony in that is that my father tried to kill me when I was fourteen.  I know all their faces, and names.  I can’t forget them even if I wanted to.”

Hawks stared at Dabi, horrified beyond belief.

Endeavor had tried to kill him?  Those…all those scars, were they…and…

Fourteen…Hawks thought, swallowing thickly, your file says around four hundred, you know, hotstuff.  Hawks knew heroes that had killed more villains than that.

Dabi laughed, the sound unhinged.  “I think it’s driven me insane.” He pressed a hand over his eye, gaze still fogged.  “I think about it and I want to laugh hysterically, because it’s not funny at all, and I’ve destroyed families exactly like my father destroyed mine.  How many of those people had someone waiting for them to come home?  I should check, but I don’t think it would make me feel better either way.  Maybe that’s the point…maybe I should check.”

He fell silent, and his wild grin melted entirely away, leaving him with something that made Hawks think, just for a second, that he looked like a hollow husk.

“My father used to push me off buildings like this.” He whispered.  Hawks felt his ears flick up, felt his body freeze.  “He’d wait till it was dark, like tonight, and I couldn’t see the bottom to tell how far it was.  Then he’d push me and I’d have to expel enough flame to slow my descent.  It always burnt the shit out of me, because the sheer amount of power you need to keep yourself aloft is crazy.  I got the worst bruises from that type of training, too.  I think I broke my wrist at least four times,” He laughed humourlessly.  “And my knees used to be black and blue with welts.  He always said that it was to test my strength under pressure, in a life or death situation, but I’m pretty sure secretly he was always hoping I’d just fail and disappear.  It’d be easily passed off as suicide, and those deaths are easy to cover up.  You have a good reason not to tell the media, and there’s no way for them to accuse you of murder.  I think I was…about ten.  Guess it doesn’t take long to be able to tell that someone’s useless, huh?”

Hawks was so still in his arms that he wasn’t sure he was breathing.  He thought that if he’d been human, he might’ve been crying at the quiet exhaustion lining Dabi’s voice.

“You know,” the villain eventually said, much softer than earlier.  “I wonder a lot if that might’ve been better…I’ve done such horrible things.  I’d definitely deserve it.  Maybe…” His gaze flicked over the edge, the flames in his eyes dimming further.  “I should just…”

Hawks’ body unfroze all at once.  So fast his vision went blurry, he twisted and stretched up onto Dabi’s chest, leaning his paws on his collarbones and pressing their noses together.  Dabi’s eyes widened, his chest shifting beneath Hawks’ paws as his breath caught in his throat.

“No…” Hawks whispered, and the only sound it made was a soft mewl of distress. 

Dabi looked away, the shiny haze that had been in his eyes evaporating.  “Sorry,” He murmured, coming back to himself.  “I make pretty miserable company, huh?  You’d really be better off finding another human.”

Hawks pressed closer to him, nuzzling against his cheek in soundless denial and then Dabi’s expression changed, breaking, and he scooped Hawks into his arms and pressed his face into his tawny fur, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Silent, like he'd never been aloud to cry out loud.

Dabi was so much more fragile than Hawks had ever thought.  His arms that looped around Hawks’ body were shaking, his body was slim to the point where it was as delicate as the fairies in children’s books.  Hawks wanted to tuck him against his chest and wrap his wings around him.  To coo into his hair and inhale his scent, the soft traces of forest fire and old books and something inherently Dabi.  He wanted to claim him as his mate and not let him be cold, or hungry, or let himself believe that the world would be a better place if he was dead, ever again.

But all Hawks could do was bat his head against Dabi’s shoulder and purr softly, curling against the villain to let him clutch at his fur like it would slip through his fingers the moment he let go, and cry silently against him. 

- - -

“Are we friends?” Dabi asked seriously, leaning on his arms on the table and staring at Hawks, who was licking the last traces of tuna from a bowl, also on the table. 

Hawks struggled not to grin, who knew what sort of expression that would translate to in cat.  Slowly, he nodded twice.

Dabi’s jaw fell open, his eyebrows dipping in denial.  “Hey,” He accused, “Did you just nod?!”

Hawks nodded again. 

Dabi narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  “Didn’t know cats could physically do that.” He muttered to himself, apparently offended that Hawks was capable of nodding.  “Wow, you’re toying with my heartstrings there little bud, bet you’re a heartbreaker with all the other cats.”

Hawks scowled.  He’d definitely never broken the heart of a cat.  That he knew of.

Dabi stood up and scooped Hawks into his arms, falling back onto the uncomfortable green couch, his long legs hanging over the edge.  He grinned at Hawks affectionately.  “You’re such a weird cat.”

Hawks nuzzled into his cheek, his whiskers brushing Dabi’s nose.

He decided then and there that he’d never heard anything prettier than Dabi’s laugh.

- - -

Hawks had always presumed that Dabi would smoke, or maybe even take drugs.  He wasn’t sure what had started that misconception, but he vaguely recalled at some point showing up to one of their meetings and noticing that Dabi breathed out a lungful of smoke, the thick greyish-white twirling and dancing in the air, and presuming he’d been smoking. 

Now, he realised that that happened when his quirk was burning him up from the inside.

Dabi didn’t wake up when the coldest hours of the night struck, like usual, but Hawks did.  Not because it was cold, but because it was too hot.  The entire room was sweltering, smelling of smoke, waves of heat washing off the body he was lying atop of.  He claimed his feet, worried before he’d even opened his eyes.

Dabi was sweating, his face twisted like he was in pain even in sleep, curled on his side.  He muttered something, too jumbled for Hawks to make out and Hawks began to worry because he’d never seen Dabi like this before.  Then he had to step back, because all at once blue flames flickered in Dabi’s hair and along his shoulders, singing a fair part of the already thin blanket that covered him.  Hawks mourned its loss immediately, because he couldn’t bear the thought of Dabi losing any more of the little means of warmth he had. 

He darted forward and nosed against the villain’s face, persistent enough that after a moment Dabi shifted and eyes the colour of his flames ignited as he woke.  His gaze was so glassy, too glassy to be safe.

You’re sick, Hawks realised, horrified, as Dabi sat up and swayed, arm trembling where he held himself up.

“Hi little cat,” He murmured, and his voice sounded like his throat had been scorched by fire.  He pressed a hand to his burning face and then collapsed back onto the bed, curling back up.  “It’s one of those days, huh…”

One of what day’s? Hawks wanted to know, pressing insistently into Dabi. What’s wrong, you’re hurt—why are you hurt?

“It’s okay…” Dabi slurred, sounding delirious.  “Some of my staples need to be changed, they’re probably starting to get infected.  It happens…all the time…”

He said that far too casually, even if his voice drifted in and out of a haze of sleep and exhaustion.  The thought of him like this, alone and in more pain, for who knew how long, made Hawks’ insides tighten and sharpen.  He slunk under his arm, mindless of the heat, to lick Dabi’s chin.  Dabi laughed like a little kid, and it was adorable, but it made Hawks scared because Dabi was definitely not as lucid as normal.  Again and again, Hawks felt hopeless.  How could he help Dabi like this?  He couldn’t pick him up, no matter how thin the villain was.  He couldn’t take him to a hospital, or buy anything from shops.  He just had to sit in some cruel twist of fate and watch Dabi suffer silently, because the villain never complained about anything, and even to a cat he downplayed all his pain. 

Hawks licked him again, more persistently, and Dabi finally got up.  He stumbled into the bathroom and sunk onto the ground, pulling out first three candles which he lit with a match—that sent alarm bells ringing in Hawks’ head, surely Dabi would just use his quirk—and then opened the cupboard. 

“I can normally burn infections out of my system pretty easily, you know?  They’re no big deal.  But sometimes my quirk recedes a little, like now, and it leaves me like this.  I think it’s because somewhere in my body, there’s two quirks.  I have components of an ice quirk too, and it unbalances eveeeeerything…” Dabi leaned his head against the vanity, the thump loud, and then winced.  “Ow,” he muttered, touching his head.  “That was closer than it looked.”

He finally seemed to rouse enough energy to pull out a small tub of antibiotic cream and Hawks had a feeling that most of Dabi’s money went to buying medical supplies, and they were no cheap thing.

The villain clumsily pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the expanse of clear and scarred skin that mottled around his body before he looked down at the staples on his stomach.  “Here.” He murmured drowsily, wincing when he touched a section that looked too blotchy red to be healthy.  “Oh that’s good, little cat, the staples are actually fine, it just needs antibiotic cream for a bit until my curse of a quirk decides to stop hating me again.” He snorted.  “Ha, well, not that it ever stops hating me, but…”

He carefully smeared the cream over the red sections, focusing particularly on the seams between healthy and scarred skin, and then he snatched a bandage out of the cupboard and wound it around his torso. 

When Hawks looked outside the room, the sun had risen, and Dabi blew out the candles as though to preserve them from melting to nothing for as long as he could.  He reached for his shirt and then suddenly shuddered and hunched over, breaths sharp.  “Ow…” He gasped.

Hawks ran to his side in alarm, whining in a long continuous keen.  What’s wrong?  Dabi, shit, what’s wrong?  Don’t you have painkillers anywhere?  No, they’re too expensive, aren’t they…

His villain drew in a shaky breath and reached for the cream again.  He looked in the mirror, eyes gaunt in the shifting morning light, and touched his shoulder.  “Shoot,” He murmured.  “It’s infected here too, I don’t even remember melting these staples…”

Hawks looked where he was focused and grit his teeth together.  There was three staples that were just misshaped bars of silver digging nastily into the angry skin where it bled sluggishly.  Dabi closed his eyes a moment and then with three shuddering winces, tugged them out of his skin.  There was no question about how much it hurt him, no doubt in Hawks’ mind about it.  Dabi rubbed the antibiotic cream over the wound, still bleeding lazily, and then pulled out a staple gun from the draw.  Without hesitation, like he just wanted to get it over with as quickly as he could, he pinched the skin together and with two sharp cracking noises there was new staples holding his arm together.  He lifted the gun again for the third, but it wavered a moment as Dabi grit his teeth together, eyes squeezed tightly shut, breathing unsteadily.  “Hurts…” He finally breathed, and Hawks’ gaze caught on the welling tear of blood on the corner of his lip, where he’d grit his teeth enough to have split his mouth.  Abruptly, Dabi pinched the skin and pulled the trigger and the third staple was replaced too.

He sat there silently with his eyes still screwed shut, swaying precariously.  Finally he dropped the staple gun back into the cupboard and used his free hand to brace himself against it, a slow breath leaving his mouth, shoulders hollowing out when he slumped forward.

Hawks whimpered low in his throat and crawled onto his lap, his tail between his legs and his ears flat back against his head.  The villain just sat there motionlessly, staring at nothing, eyes hazy with pain.  He eventually twitched his good arm up enough to run his fingers through the fuzzy fur on the side of Hawks’ body, but it looked like the movement still hurt him.  “They pull a little.” He eventually muttered.  “The new staples.  It’ll be okay once my skin heals and stretches, not too painful, like a piercing.  Funny, you’d think I’d be in pain all the time, but it’s actually alright.  Hunger is worse.” He snorted.  “Being a villain sure doesn’t pay well.  But still, I have to change the world, even just a bit.  I can’t let someone like my father call himself a hero, because that means that even the best people in the world are bad people, and how can humanity survive that?”

Why not? Hawks laughed hysterically in his mind, no sound coming from his mouth, of course that’s why you do this.  What else was I expecting?  That you enjoyed hurting people?  That you had fun overheating yourself?  What the fuck is the difference between you and me, Dabi?  Why are you a villain and I a hero?

Hawks didn’t want to think about a younger Dabi with a softer face and white hair sitting in a room just like this bathroom, stapling together not just his shoulder but his entire body.  Didn’t want to imagine his eyes going hollow as he stapled closed his face, or his small form hunching over or shuddering and sobbing as he stapled a bangle of them around his wrist, like a morbid decoration.

The villain looked up, and his eyes caught on the mirror.  In this blanched light, they looked more grey than blue, the purple under them more like heavy black bags and his skin pallid and white.  Dabi stared at his reflection for a long moment before he looked away, and the expression that had twisted his beautiful sprite-like features and had him recoiling from the mirror was…self-loathing.  So bold that it had been startling in its intensity, shocking Hawks like an electrical current.

Dabi laughed softly, mirthlessly.  “What do you think, little cat?  Unpleasant enough to chase away children?  Definitely ugly enough to scare away pretty birds…like a scarecrow, huh?”

He pressed his lips tightly together, but he looked young again.  Small and heartbreakingly sad, too hurt to be here huddled on the ground and not wrapped  in Hawks’ wings where he was supposed to be.

What are you talking about…? Hawks wanted to know.  How could someone so gorgeous be so shockingly unaware of it?  How could he not notice the delicate shape of his nose, with its way of wrinkling at the crest when he laughed.  Or his sharp little eyeteeth that poked out mischievously when he grinned.  Or the way his gaze glistened like right now, when he got that hopelessly longing expression on his face that quickly faded into an easy acceptance that broke Hawks’ heart.

“Definitely too horrible for pretty birds…” He decided finally, shoulders drooping, and Hawks would’ve bitten him angrily if he thought it would have done any good.

With a deep breath, Dabi pulled his shirt back on and climbed unsteadily to his feet, glancing into the kitchen. 

 “We’re out of food again,” He said, falsely cheerful, and he seemed to be talking more to himself for once.  Hawks was still worried by the lack of clarity in his gaze.  Dabi was definitely not thinking straight.  The delirium seemed to strengthen right before his eyes.  “Let’s go buy some!”

Hawks felt dread pooling in his stomach.  He tried to hop onto Dabi’s foot, to tell him this was a bad idea, they should just stay home for a bit.  But it was useless, Dabi simply scooped him up and hummed into his fur, muttering about how cute he was and being awfully cute himself in doing so.  And Hawks knew Dabi hadn’t eaten for almost seventeen hours now, they had no food, he was right. 

This was too dangerous though.

Dabi left the house, locking the door before Hawks could sniff out his mask and sunglasses so he could disguise himself, and Dabi didn’t even seem to hear his persistent cry as he tried to get back in, scratching at the wood over his shoulder.  “Come on, little cat.” He said.  “I’ll let you pick the type of tuna you want.  I kinda feel like I’m bribing you, but I don’t really mind if you’ll just stay a little longer.” He hummed softly, “I wonder when you’ll get bored of me…cats are independent, aren’t they?” Hawks meowed, a soft trilling sound he hadn’t known cats could make rumbling from his throat.  Dabi grinned, “It’s okay little one, I would never hold it against you.  It’d be better really, because who knows which fight will be the one I won’t survive.”

Hawks curled a little closer to him, resting his nose against the pulse in his neck.  No.  Hawks didn’t want him to die.  Not at all.

He slipped out the back of the apartment complex and traced the now familiar path to the small rundown supermarket he always picked.  It wouldn’t be empty.  It was the busiest time for shopping right now, the worst time for Dabi to come.  Hawks crowded back against Dabi’s chest, trying to tell him over and over that this was a bad idea, but the villain wasn’t thinking straight.  He was hurt, and his eyes were still hazy with fever and pain, his body still hot and his movements unbalanced.  But his hold on Hawks was always gentle, despite it all.

Even with Hawks’ enhanced animal senses, Dabi still fell to a stop before Hawks noticed them, years of living on the streets and his nurtured sense of suspicion giving him an ability to perceive danger quicker than even Hawks. 

The villain stepped back, and a glinting projectile whizzed through the air and hit the wall across from them.  Almost quicker than Hawks could blink, he was being placed behind a bin, pushed into the darkest shadows away from harm and then Dabi had stepped away from him and turned his head to see around the corner.

“You’re Dabi, eh?” A cocky voice wondered aloud, sending chills down Hawks’ back with enough vigour that his hackles rose. 

No.  This couldn’t be happening.  Not yet.  Hawks would change back to a human soon, not yet.  Dabi had to stay safe for just a little longer.  Just one more day.

“And who’re you?” Dabi drawled, but Hawks could hear the way the words ‘who are’ slid together in a more slurred pronunciation than Dabi’s normal silken way of speaking.

“Your old buddy Tomura Shigaraki paid me and my lads a visit the other day.” The man continued, not answering. 

Hawks rushed out from around the bins, darting to just behind Dabi and coming to a sliding stop as he saw more of them.  Three.  Four men in total.  One woman lurking a little further back.

Too many too many, something in him yelled in alarm, he’s sick, he can’t fight them, no!  No no no!

“Oh, yeah?” Dabi asked, but his voice wasn’t threatening enough to be a drawl this time.  He shook his head once ever so slightly, the movement subtle but enough to make Hawks’ fear double.  “What about?”

“Oh well, we paid the old Doctor Ujiko a visit one time in the past, those Nomus should be shared, don’tcha think?  A villain thing, they should be used for the greater good, accessible to all.  We thought we might borrow some for a bit, pull a stunt like yours, go after some nice heroes, help out the cause.”

Dabi opened his mouth to breathe, panting softly, gaze unfocused, and Hawks wondered if he could even hear what they were saying.  Hawks cast his gaze desperately around, trying to find any way to get Dabi away from these people, any way to protect him.  He was a hero damnit!  He was supposed to be able to find solutions to fights, he’d been in hundreds of them. 

But he’d always had his quirk.  He’d never been stuck in such a helpless form before.  He’d never cared about anyone in the same overwhelming way he needed to protect this cerulean-eyed villain before him, because he could see it in flashes right before him.  Could see the light fade from his gaze, feel the heat leach away from his skin, imagine his fire going out.  And that thought was all at once the most terrifying thing Hawks had ever known.  Dabi had to learn what it felt like to be touched as softly as he touched Hawks’ fur, he had to learn what it was like to be warmed by another’s skin and Hawks wanted to make him flush from all the sweet nothings he would whisper to him—for years if he wanted.  He deserved it in a way no one else Hawks had ever met did.  Dabi had been pushed down time and time again, shoved around and torn, stapled shut so his bleeding edges didn’t fall apart.  He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve all of this hurt and hatred, all this nastiness the world told him he was entitled to. 

“But do you know what we got?  Bad reception!  Unbelievable, eh?  We were just gonna borrow ‘em for a bit, and then your old boss dropped by with the hands of the men I sent to fetch ‘em and told me he didn’t appreciate it.  Said that if I really wanted to be a villain I’d have to pass your judgement or some shit.  Said you were picky about who you allowed into the League.  You’re what?  Their safeguard, their little guard dog?  Cerberus of the League, think you know what makes a good villain?  I’ve had some good friends of mine turn up as ash on the pavement after going to you for judgement, and I know they were good villains.  Merciless, they were good at their job.  Take old Burner, he’s been picking off all the pretty lady heroes in the ranks for years!  Think he had a thing for that little psycho in your little club too, what was her name, Himiko?”

Dabi’s gaze sharpened slightly.  “Toga…” He murmured.  “Not Himiko.  She never said you could call her name.”

The man tutted, shaking his head.  “See?  This right here!  You all think you’re better than everyone else!  You think there’s different calibres of villain, but there’s not!  We’re all the same, and you’re just as lowly as us!  You ain’t no better, you ain’t no stronger, you get what you want a couple of times and you start thinking the world should be handed to you on a golden platter!  Ha!  Well I think I might just show your boss that I can make a better entry into the League than by simply getting your approval.  Why shouldn’t I make a larger splash?!  Villains like death, especially ones like you, so I’ll give you a taste of it.  Heck, I’ll give you more than a taste!  You can have the whole damn feast.”

Dabi swayed back, footwork unsteady, and then the man was right in front of him, his hand turning into a massive mace right before their eyes.  Dabi caught the man’s wrist and suddenly he was screaming as the bludgeon melted from silvery metal back to blood and bone and he jerked back, clutching his burned arm.  “You bastard!” He hissed at Dabi. 

Hawks had a feeling Dabi would normally grin menacingly at him, but the blue-gazed villain only looked on uncomprehendingly. 

“What?  You an idiot or something?!” His attacker growled, shaking his other hand out and forming it into a stone hammer this time.  “They said you were clever, but you look as stupid as anything!”

Hawks’ blood was a chill in his veins, but Dabi still said nothing.  When the man lunged at him again, he only barely managed to pull off the same move, catching the weapon and melting it before the impact hit him.  The edge of the man’s fist collided with Dabi’s ribs and Hawks heard the soft, startled whimper that his sick villain made, breath catching in his throat. 

Hawks’ leapt onto the bin, running along the low ledge of the window beside it until he was crouched on the corner of the building.

Dabi threw his hand out to the side and the entire alleyway abruptly erupted into screams and fire.  His flame was more purple than blue, the heat from it far less significant compared to what Hawks was familiar.  He didn’t know if it was because Dabi was sick, or because he didn’t want to kill them.  When the flame petered out, all three of the men had dropped to the ground, all moving or groaning, but burnt.  Still, it was nowhere near the extent of burn injuries that Dabi had.  The fourth man was cradling his injured hands, glaring spitefully at the League’s arsonist, still too near to Dabi for Hawks to relax.

“You bastard.” He hissed, but made no move to come closer.

Hawks slowly drew in a small breath for the first time it felt since they had shown up.  It was easy to forget just how strong Dabi was.  He may have been nothing but gentle towards cats, but nobody challenged as many seasoned heroes as Dabi did—including his own father, the top ranking hero—and walked away unhurt unless they were powerful. 

Dabi watched him another moment, gaze still glazed, and then turned away, back towards where he’d left Hawks.  Hawks was about to jump down from the ledge and run to his side when a soft ‘tsk’ caught his attention.

Far too many things overlapped and happened at once then.

Hawks turned as though in slow motion, eyes widening as he realised that the female villain he’d entirely forgotten about was running forward, a transparent shield of what might have been air covering the front of her body in a half-circle.  Her gaze was dark, focused entirely on Dabi’s turned back.

Hawks saw Dabi’s shoulders cord tight and then his head turned, dark hair shifting as he noticed her, flames brewing around his hand.  Something was also manifesting around the woman’s hand, more hardened air to make a weapon similar to brass knuckles.     

Hawks crouched low and sprung, unwilling to watch this happen and do nothing about it.  He couldn’t sit here and watch Dabi die, right before his eyes while he did nothing.  Something about his movement though, caught both Dabi and the woman’s attention simultaneously. 

A flash of blue.  Then everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Hawks was curled, frozen, mind lost in haze because it had all happened at once.  All at the exact same moment. 

No…his mind whispered.  Nonononono.

Dabi he’d—he’d…

“No!” Hawks shouted, but it made no proper sound.  He pushed out from beneath Dabi’s coat, his entire body feeling cold as wave after wave of despair crashed through him.  He finally squirmed free of the arms that had wrapped so firmly around his body and pulled him close, away from that woman’s attack, away from anything that could hurt him, sheltered by Dabi’s own body instead.

“No…” He sobbed again, nosing into his dark hair.

He could still hear it, the hitch of his breath, in pain, that Dabi had made.  And the way the impact of the hit had been enough that Hawks had still felt it, even through his thin villain’s body.

He stood there, a far off noise of grief that he knew was his own too loud in his ears. 

His body felt hot, disconnected from reality, stretching and moulding like he was physically being torn apart from all the unnameable emotions roiling beneath his skin.

He reached out and touched Dabi’s face, but the villain was motionless enough to be lifeless on the ground, still curled around where Hawks had resided in his arms, his coat a wild disarray around him, his face tucked to his chest, eyes closed, his hair thick where it touched the ground—thick with blood, Hawks realised distantly, because he couldn’t think over the weighty silence in his mind.

“Hawks—” The woman gasped behind him and he turned to her with blank golden eyes. 

She was pinned to the wall by small hardened feathers a moment later—the one’s closest to his back because all of his others were on Dabi’s kitchen table—and Hawks murmured softly, “You hurt him.”

And then one of his feathers had gone through her shoulder and pinned her to the wall.  The scream she made was loud, high pitched and more of a shriek of outrage and disbelief than repentance.  It was nothing like the way Dabi locked his noises in his chest, nothing like the way he bore his pain uncomplainingly, as though he deserved it.  It was enough that almost without Hawks’ conscious consent, another feather wedged itself through her hand, neatly skirting between the bones and tendons.  He wasn’t cruel enough for them to be permanent injuries, but he wondered if she would have deserved it if they had been.  He looked at Dabi.  He decided she would have.    

In moments he was crouching back beside the curled villain, the woman taunt behind him, unmoving and still pinned, like she knew what he would do if she shifted.  Hawks carefully scooped Dabi into his arms, calling to his wings.  A moment later, when they’d all wiggled beneath the window that was opened a crack in Dabi’s bathroom and swarmed around his body to reform on his back, he flicked them wide and swept into the air.

He didn’t take him back to his cold room, warmed only by Dabi’s own presence, but instead took him back to his own outrageously large apartment, landing on the balcony with his arms bundled full of his delicate villain that didn’t weigh enough and had disrupted his entire world in just a couple of days. 

Hawks had always been flippant.  He knew hundreds of people, but they meant as little to him as he had meant to his own parents.  Except that he would never sell anyone to anyone else.  He saved people, and he enjoyed their presence—enjoyed meeting them and knowing they existed, and was grateful to have protected their lives, but at the end of the day he’d never thought of them for longer than that.  He was labelled a playboy by the media, a selling point that the Commission had always encouraged, even spread rumours about.  He’d been accused of having sex with multiple people on a daily rotation, and while that may have been a hard myth he wasn’t a virgin either, he had had partners before.  Nothing serious or frequent, but…he’d tried relationships and he’d pursued people of interest, played the game of love and chased after those who played hard to get.  But truly, he didn’t really care for any of them.  When they ended it or he did, it was easy to smile and agree.  He’d thought it was just how love was, just how he was.

And now there was Dabi, who was by no rights his—but at the same time he was.  And Hawks wanted him more than anything.  He was Hawks’ villain that grinned boyishly when no human was watching, that talked about whatever he pleased without even a trace of spite, that didn’t complain about anything, that took all the pain the world oh so kindly dropped at his feet and picked up the shattered pieces with nothing but a slight droop in his shoulders and an expression of hearty resignation.  It was Dabi that was the only one that had noticed that Hawks had disappeared, even when Hawks had never given the villain any reason to care for him.  Dabi who wouldn’t steal from him and didn’t want to be disliked by him and buried his face in his blankets so adorably with a soft longing in his words that made Hawks want to give him everything.  How it was that Hawks hadn’t noticed Dabi’s attention until he’d been a cat forced to look was beyond him.

Hawks pressed his nose to Dabi’s hair and tried not to sob.  He’d woken up sometime in the flight, but Hawks’ relief had been far too short-lived, because he’d just leaned the side of his head against Hawks’ compression layer and stared at nothing, almost as unresponsive as when he’d been unconscious.  Hawks jerked the balcony door open and sunk to his knees before the couch, carefully placing Dabi amongst the cushions and discarded blankets from where Hawks had made himself a nest to watch TV, all those nights ago.  He was glad to have made such a place now, because Dabi fit in it so perfectly.

The villain’s fingers remained tangled in his shirt when he set him down, and Hawks gently caught his wrists to pull them away.  “Dabi,” He murmured softly.  “Wait here, alright?  I’m going to get my medical supplies.”

Dull cerulean eyes flickered at hearing his name, and he slowly looked up, tilting his head slightly.  “Hawks…” Dabi realised, eyes glazed.

“You have a concussion, sweetheart.” Hawks murmured, brushing his hand through the hair that wasn’t matted with blood and tilting Dabi’s face up to look at him.  “Stay here a moment, alright?”

“No wait!” Dabi grabbed his wrist.  “The cat I was with, Hawks, he’s my friend, don’t let him die—not because of me.”

He sounded spooked, like he couldn’t imagine anything worse, and Hawks’ heart cracked. 

“No,” He whispered, pulling Dabi into his arms.  “Not dead, I promise.” He sighed slowly.  There was no easy way to explain that without sounding like a lunatic.  “I’m right here, see?”

Dabi glanced at him uncomprehendingly.  His skin was so hot still. 

“I got hit by a quirk…” Hawks murmured. “It turned me into a cat, and you walked past…so I followed you back to your house.”

When Dabi said nothing Hawks leaned down.  “Hey, Dabs, what’s your least favourite food?”

Dabi still gazed at him, too stunned to really process anything.  He eventually muttered, “Fish,” and Hawks placed him back on the couch. 

“You definitely have a concussion,” he stroked his hand through Dabi’s hair, avoiding the side that was matted with blood.  “But you have to stay here, I need to get things for it, okay?  It hurts, right?  I can make it stop hurting.”

Dabi still didn’t untangle his hands from Hawks’ compression layer.  “It doesn’t matter.” He said, “It always hurts.  Don’t leave again, Hawks.”

“Ah shit hotstuff…” Hawks curled over, leaning his head against the side of Dabi’s chest.  “I didn’t leave.  I didn’t leave you.  Shit, I can’t do this.”

He shot a dozen of his feathers across the room to fetch the home phone because his mobile was still a shattered hunk of glass on Dabi’s table and dialled Rumi’s number the moment it hit his hands.  She picked up on the fourth ring, always diligent.  “Hello?” Was the tinny question.

“It’s Hawks,” He said, “You fight close combat, so I presume you’ve had concussions before?”

“Hawks?!  Hey bud, I haven’t heard from you in ages!  What’ve you been up to?  Was it your holiday period already?  Man, I need to hit up my own agency for a holiday peri—”

“Rumi, please.” He said a little desperately.  “I need your help!”

There was a beat of silence on the other end.  “Did you get a concussion?”

“No, but he…my, friend?  He’s hurt and he’s stunned to within an inch of his life, and he’s about the cleverest person I know, sharp as a tack, and I’ve never seen him like this—”

“Woah, woah, Hawks baby, you need to calm down right now.  You’re no help to anyone if you’re freaking out.  Friend, you say?  Yeah, I don’t believe you on that one.  Take him to the hospital.”

Hawks shook his head silently, still carding his fingers through Dabi’s hair.  “I can’t.” He whispered.

“Hawks, who—you know what, it doesn’t matter.  Concussion, okay, um…dim room, rest, if there’s a wound you might need to stitch it up, try and avoid flashing lights like TV and phones and loud noises too.  Pain medication is fine to take, you could press an icebag wrapped in a thin fabric to the injury in intervals of ten minutes.  Hawks—if he’s vomiting and can’t stand and can’t remember shit or talk, you gotta take him to the hospital.”

“He’s not.  He’s just dazed and slow to respond to simple questions, and he was sick before the injury with a fever from an infection.  But he got punched in the ribs too.”

“He’s a hero?  Why was he fighting sick?”

“Didn’t have a choice…”

“Are his ribs broken?”

“No.”

“Has he taken antibiotics for the infection?”

“Yeah, his quirk helps him fight it off too.  I’m not as worried about that as the head injury.”

“Ah, okay.  So, food and water as well.  Fluids are good but no caffeine or alcohol, and try light meals to see if it makes him sick or not.  Is he stressed?  You have to try and make him as calm as you can because adrenaline is your enemy here.”

“Is that everything?”

“Unless it gets worse, yeah.”

“Thanks.” He said, and ended the call. 

“Was that a hero?” Dabi asked, something in his voice sounding more like himself, more bitter and coiled.  “Selling me out already, birdie?  That only took five minutes.”

“Nah Dabs,” Hawks said gently, sending his feathers to fetch things for him because Dabi wasn’t supposed to be stressed and Hawks leaving had freaked him out.  “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Dabi’s eyebrows pinched slightly.  “Why…wouldn’t you?” He asked, confusion softening his voice.

Hawks clenched his teeth together and shook his head silently, because he was probably going to cry otherwise.  “I don’t want to.  I don’t want to hurt you, Dabi.”

“You don’t?” The skepticism stung, Hawks wouldn’t lie.  But he didn’t think it was him personally, Hawks had a feeling Dabi thought most people would want to hurt him if they could.  Because most people would.

Hawks wouldn’t let them though.

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be warm and healthy and safe.  I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Dabi still didn’t understand, Hawks could tell.  But Hawks would convince him, however long it took.  He wouldn’t leave him. 

He snatched a wet cloth out of the air and leaned forward to trickle it through Dabi’s matted hair, letting it run off onto the towel he dropped next to Dabi’s elbow. The water ran out red, and he was careful and slow because he was well aware the villain wouldn’t tell him if he was in pain, but eventually he could see the gash.  The woman had landed a hit straight to Dabi’s head, and a second to his ribs.  The ribs were already starting to bruise, and Hawks would have thought Dabi’s bones would have caved under the pressure and cracked, but the villain had always been sturdier than the world gave him credit for.  He ran his fingers along his chest anyway, pretending to ignore the way Dabi turned away, the tip of his nose going red.

He became more lucid by the minute, Hawks could tell by the growing snarkiness and the sharper sense of suspicion.

“The cat.” Dabi repeated after a moment.  “What happened to it?”

Hawks reached for the ice and wrapped it in the damp cloth, pressing it to Dabi’s head.  “Why did you…protect a cat with your body?  You could’ve died, you know?” He said instead.

Dabi stared blankly at him for a long moment.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you almost died!” Hawks repeated, sharper than he’d meant to, angrier than he’d realised he was.

Dabi turned away.  “Seriously?” He breathed, like it should have been obvious.  “You’re starting to sound like you’d rather me be alive than a cat.”

Hawks went still, staring at him.

“Villain, remember?” Dabi continued, still talking to the couch, like he thought this entire notion was ridiculous, but his shoulders curled forward like he could hide.  “War?  Enemies?  We’re not friends, I’m worth nothing to you.  Less maybe.  I might as well die protecting a cat.  He was small, and cute and warm.  It wasn’t lonely.” And then so faintly Hawks almost didn’t catch it, too faintly to have been meant for him to hear, “He sorta reminded me of you…”

“Would you die to protect me as well?” Hawks whispered hollowly.

Dabi’s eyes shuttered, his gaze closing over like a frozen lake.  He leaned his head on the side of the couch with a soft sigh.  “Don’t be dumb…” And he made it sound like the answer was no, but Hawks knew Dabi a little too well these days.

Of course I would birdbrain.  You’re the only real hero out there.

Hawks shuddered, hands coming up to rub fruitlessly at his eyes.  It wasn’t like it was enough to chase away the tears, or the silent sobs, or the way everything in him shook, but it was something.

- - -

Hawks woke up sleeping on his knees, with his upper body draped across his couch and the stiff fabric of what had to be Dabi’s coat beneath his face.  He de-stuck himself from it and rubbed the indent it had left in his skin, frowning sleepily and groaning softly. 

And then he remembered everything that had happened yesterday, at the same time he perceived that he was no longer a cat.  His gaze settled on Dabi, who was curled on his side on the couch and had apparently fallen asleep before Hawks had and not woken up yet because otherwise Hawks was certain he would no longer be in his apartment.

Which meant…he still had a chance to catch him. 

He reached forward, brushing his fingers through Dabi's hair, tracing his thumb across the shape of his jaw.  He was warm.  Hawks had wrapped him in all the warmth he could without stifling him, and he wanted Dabi to sleep for longer, until he wasn't always exhausted.

He loosened an entire wing’s worth of feathers atop the sleeping villain, curled on his side like always and so much smaller now that Hawks was bigger, and let them flutter down onto the cushions around him so that Hawks would know when he woke up.  He also twisted his hands through the blankets, dragging them up and twining them around until Dabi was a part of the nest, so bundled up in blankets that Hawks had half a thought he might overheat.  And…how long had it been since Dabi had been warm like now?  Warm, not overheating and not freezing.  Reluctantly he stopped fussing, if only because he was still afraid he would wake him up before he could set his trap.

He darted straight to his kitchen.  See, the common misconception was that Hawks couldn’t cook.  The common misconception was wrong.  Hawks could cook, he just never had time to.  So it wasn’t surprising that he had all the ingredients he needed sitting unused in the cupboards and fridge for what he wanted to make.  He tossed frozen broth into a saucepan to melt and got to slicing vegetables—a quick, almost offensively easy task with his feathers.  He had egg noodles and mushrooms floating around, and the meat in his fridge had gone bad in the time he’d been gone, but he had more chicken in the freezer.  He wasn’t exactly sure if it could go straight into the soup frozen, but Google told him that wasn’t a problem so it went in as well.

Like his timing was smack-on, but probably more likely that the smell of cooked food had roused him, Hawks felt Dabi shift and stand up, padding softly into the room Hawks was in.

He stood against the doorframe, staring at him with a stunned expression—one side of his hair was spiked erratically up, and his shirt had ridden up his waist a little and caught in a bunch around his belt.  Hawks thought he looked terribly cute, even if Dabi was squinting like he was questioning how lucid he was.  “Hawks?” He finally settled on.  And then much more dangerously, “What’s going on?”

Hawks grinned at him.  “What do you mean hotstuff?  I’m cooking, clearly.”

Dabi took a double take at the new nickname—or at least it was the first time he’d paid attention to it because Hawks called him that in his head all the time—his frown deepening substantially.  His fingers caught and uncaught in the loose fabric of his pants, and Hawks could read him like a book now that he knew all his tells.  Flustered, was that one.  He was pretty confident he could break this harder exterior to get to the villain he was more familiar with, his bet was on flustering him enough he forgot they were enemies. 

“No,” The villain growled.  “What’s going on?  Why am I here, this is your fancy apartment, right?  Not to mention, you were…” He trailed off uncertainly, one hand raising to press against the side of his head.  “Missing.” He finally realised.  “Hey, where were you?”

Hawks put down the frying pan he’d been holding and walked over, tilting Dabi’s jaw up to examine his eyes—or more specifically his pupils.  They seemed alright though.  The villain’s mouth dropped open in shock at the casual touch, but Hawks paid him no mind.  “Say…” He murmured.  “Do you remember yesterday?”

Dabi jerked back, and Hawks let him.  “Yesterday?” He scowled.  “Why wouldn’t I remember…yester—” He shook his head abruptly, his hand finally finding the gash on the side of his head.

“Concussion.” Hawks explained lightly.  “But I think you’re okay, you should remember soon, nothing long term.  I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Dabi warily followed him with his eyes as he returned to the bubbling soup, pulling it off the stove.  “What?” He eventually drawled dryly.  “What possibly could have happened yesterday to make you all buddy-buddy with me?  You know I’m in your home, right?  What makes you so sure I won’t just melt the both of us down to nothing and be done with it?”

He poured the soup into two bowls, humming tunelessly.  “Well, it wasn’t yesterday exactly.  Try all of last week and then some.”

Dabi ground his teeth together.  “I haven’t seen you for at least that long, you disappeared remember?”

Hawks gestured for him to follow and led them into his dining room, setting the bowls down on the table proudly.  It was nice to be able to cook for someone else after so long.  “Here, Dabs.” He chirped, passing one to the villain.

Dabi paused.

He stared blankly at the warm bowl in his hands for a long time, Hawks watching him carefully, before he swallowed quietly and handed it back.

“Not hungry.” He muttered.  “And I’m leaving now anyway, have a nice dinner birdie.”

Hawks smiled softly, because anything else he could’ve done would’ve resulted in tears.  He set the bowl back down on the table and caught Dabi around the waist as he made to leave, tugging him back against his chest and dropping his forehead onto his shoulder.  “The way I see it,” He murmured softly, fingers tightening on his hips. “Is that either you know how important food is in a way few others do, and don’t want to take mine, or you think you’ll put me off my meal simply by existing, right Dabi?”

Dabi was entirely still and completely silent in his grasp, but Hawks felt his skin steadily getting hotter and hotter and hotter beneath his arms.  He was warm, and soft.  His jacket was thick and stiff but it smelt like smoke and Dabi.  Hawks’ arms fit well around him, clasping easily again at his front.  Having Dabi’s tangible, existing, real form in his arms after being stuck in a much smaller form for so long was as reassuring as it was new and familiar.  He couldn’t quite explain it, he knew Dabi, but his body didn’t.  Yet. 

He chuckled and released the villain, stepping back to watch the way it broke the spell and had Dabi whipping around to face him, cheeks and nose flushing red and gaping at him like it was impossible to comprehend such a thing.  “What did you—” He gasped.  “You just—are you mad?!”

“But I like hugging you.” Hawks said innocently, and that successfully shut the villain up.  His voice sobered somewhat.  “Although realistically, you’re gonna get anemic again real soon if you don’t eat.” He brightened.  “Besides, who better to insult my meal than you, right?  Do your worst.”

He practically pushed Dabi back to the table and set him down, placing the food before him. 

Dabi stared only at Hawks as his hand fumbled once and then clasped the spoon, his expression somewhere between incredulity and straight out disbelief.  “You want me to insult your food?”

“Yeah! As much as you can!”

Dabi’s scowl deepened quite perceptibly.  Still looking far more suspicious than Hawks thought he deserved—he was an angel, alright.  Why would anyone be suspicious of him?—he ate a tentative mouthful.  “Hm, dry.” He muttered, and proceeded to eat the entire thing. 

“It’s soup!” Hawks squawked immediately, hand slamming down on the table.  “How can it be dry?!”

Dabi finished the soup before he answered, in what was clearly a very well thought out, articulate and educated response.  “Just is.” At the disbelieving silence he received, he tacked on the equally intelligent: “Stop bugging me hero, you wanted an insult.”

“Dry…” Hawks grumbled anyway, focusing on his own for a moment.  “There’s more in the pot.” He added, pointing with his spoon but not looking up.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, thought not.” Hawks grumbled again, eyebrow twitching.  And then with all the maturity of a twenty-two year old—read: twelve year old—he tipped his bowl up and finished it off before hopping to his feet and chasing after Dabi, who’d already made it to the kitchen to wash his own bowl.  He plucked it from the arsonist’s hands and refilled it in about one second, feathers assisting, and then handed it back. 

Dabi blinked.

“I just said—” He began, his normal villainous ‘I’m going to set you on fire very soon if you keep this up’ irritation appearing.

“Oh, you don’t want it?” Hawks chimed, grinning brightly and hoping it looked fake.  “You can throw it out then. Bin’s over there.”

Dabi stared at him again.

And when the villain turned away and tipped the bowl up, drinking the soup straight from it this time since he’d already washed his spoon and making a sound of disgust at Hawks’ suggestion, Hawks’ wings finally stopped rustling and fluttering anxiously about.  Okay, step one, feed mate complete.

Record scratch.  Rewind.

What?!

He clutched a hand to his head and turned aside, sighing sharply.  Mate, huh?  Well, the thought had crossed his mind before, but it had never been so demanding before.  He glanced through his slitted fingers at Dabi, eyes catching on the light that haloed his hair shining in from the morning outside and then lingering on the soft lilac it turned his scars into, and the rosy gold it made his silver staples, and the gentle round shape his mouth and cheeks were when he was focused like that.  Dabi rinsed his bowl out absently, thoughts clearly on something else, and the gravity of just how far gone Hawks was narrowly sunk into his being.    

Sorry madam President…you’ve raised a spy who fell in love with the bad guy.

Not that Dabi was…anything like the villain he was made out to be.  Fear twisted perceptions almost beyond belief, and the media was definitely afraid of such destructive capabilities as those Dabi possessed.

All at once Dabi swung around to face him, eyes wide, and Hawks had a stricken moment when he wondered if somehow he might have spoken aloud. 

“You said…” Dabi whispered, and he really must’ve been flustered to speak so openly, not a trace of threat or smug or smirk in his voice.  “A cat—what did you say yesterday—oh my god, your eyebrows, and electricity—no cat knows what electricity is—are you kidding me, but you—I mean, I uh…wait I…and then too, I…said…”

Hawks stared.

Was he alright?

He’d never heard anyone speak like that before, too many thoughts all jumbled up and out of order, like they were stumbling out of his mouth at the same rate as his mind but he could only get out half the sentence before his head had moved on. 

So Hawks had the ever-intelligent reply of, “Huh?” sitting stupidly on his tongue. 

Dabi stood vacantly for a moment, turned mostly to face him and becoming whiter and whiter with each frozen moment that passed.  And then all at once his eyes skirted sideways and he pressed a hand over his mouth.  “…blanket.” He finished, whatever grand rollercoaster of thoughts that had gone through his head finally concluding.

Hawks watched him with nothing short of amazement as he turned redder and redder, and shrunk further and further into his coat like it was possible to disappear into it, still not looking at him. 

“That’s so creepy.” Dabi whispered, and it finally—finally clicked in Hawks’ mind.

“Huh…” He repeated, because well shit, Dabi was adorable.

Madam President…not only have I fallen in love with a villain, but you and the rest of the world are no longer able to set eyes on him for there is great risk that anyone who does will also fall in love with him.  He’s mine now, fuck off.

Because…well, blanket.  Dabi was embarrassed about the whole scene with the blanket.  He must’ve finally remembered that Hawks had admitted to being the cat that had essentially infiltrated his home and eaten all his food and the most prominent repercussion he could think of was the fact that he’d curled himself around one of Hawks’ blankets and buried his nose in it while the object of his thoughts had sat on his foot and stared at him and tumbled straight off the cliff of love never to climb back up it—that was his first thought?  Not that he’d admitted to being Endeavor’s son, not that Hawks knew where his home was, not that he’d been open about every ideal and secret he had, it was that he’d snuck into Hawks’ house—exactly what Hawks had done to his—and left the blanket folded nicer than when he’d come—well Hawks had done a lot worse at his house, so he didn’t know why he was so red about just hugging one blanket.  But…Hawks’ chest near swelled out of his skin with way too many feelings and thoughts seeing it.  He just couldn’t with this villain.  He’d had no hope.  Right from the start.  From the second those stupidly warm, stupidly gentle hands had scooped him up in that alleyway and Dabi had been the first person to ask him if he was alright in about five years, Hawks should’ve keyed on and run away.

“Aw man…” He muttered, resigned.  In about two steps he’d caught Dabi by the beltloops, who’d been glancing concerningly over at the balcony like he was debating the repercussions of jumping straight off it.  “No.” Hawks clarified, leaning forward until they were nose to nose.  “No defenestration, self-orchestrated or otherwise, is allowed in my house.”

“You jump off it dail—”

“Semantics.”

“Hawks.”

“Yeah, hotstuff?” He purred, and he really couldn’t help the grin that curved his mouth.  He liked being this close to Dabi now, when he could feel the shape of his breath on the air between them.  When he could see the flecks of live fire in his gaze—which was level enough to be a glare despite the slash of flush across his healthy skin—and when he could trace the shape of mismatched lips with his eyes.  When Dabi didn’t respond, Hawks’ gaze flicked back up.  “Please.” He breathed, shifting so imperceptibly closer he barely even realised he was doing it, fingers tightening where they were twisted through Dabi’s belt.

Dabi’s eyes widened in disbelief when he grasped what he was asking.

“Please,” Hawks repeated.  “You’re killing me here, Dabs.  You’ve had your hands in my fur all week.  I’ve watched you do the cutest things and been able to do nothing.  I’ve watched you be cold and hungry and stupidly selfless, and before, I watched you nearly be killed, right in front of me.  How well do you think my hero instincts took that?”

Dabi swallowed, pink slowly spreading again from his nose down his face, and Hawks’ wings snapped wide entirely without his consent.  And even though Hawks knew Dabi didn’t know what it meant, didn’t know that the instincts that were a by-product of his mutation quirk were seeping into all Hawks’ gestures now—when his mouth parted slightly and his pretty eyes hooked on the plumage, Hawks very nearly allowed something irreversible to happen. 

But shit if it hadn’t already happened.  He wasn’t quite sure it was still reversible at all, he didn’t think he’d be acting like this if it was reversible.  His fingers twitched, tightening on Dabi, itching to just shift his thumbs slightly further up and brush the skin above the waistband of his pants.

“But why would you want—” Dabi began, sounding choked.  “Just open your eyes already, are you mad?!”

And there was that look again, that flicker of self-disgust and that longing in the way his gaze too, flicked to Hawks’ mouth for a moment before it dulled to resigned.

“Haaah.” Hawks exhaled, shaking his head slowly.  “You stupid pretty thing, you’re driving me mad quicker than I anticipated alright, how can you not know?” He tugged on the thumbs he’d hooked through his belt, pulled Dabi’s light body straight into his own and then immediately bent himself around him, kissing his throat, tucking his wings forward against his sides, relishing in the surprised way Dabi drew up, accidentally arching into the touch.  Hawks was right, if there was a cat here it wasn’t him.

“You’re insane…” Dabi breathed, sounding delightfully strained to Hawks’ ears.

“And you’re beautiful enough I might just eat you.”

Dabi huffed a hysterical laugh against his neck.  It sounded a bit like a sob.  “Right, so there’s definitely heroes in the other room to arrest me.  What sounds the most humiliating on record, Hawks?  Oh, I’m narcissistic and villainous enough that I think I look edgy and hot like this, does that suffice?  I knew all this was too bizarre to be genuine.”

Hawks sighed, a gentle smile twisting his lips.  “You’re such an idiot.” He breathed, dragging his hand up out of his belt to thread it through Dabi’s hair.  “Such an idiot if you think I’m not helplessly enamoured with you, but I always thought you were hot, ask the Commission President, I write it in my reports all the time.  She banned me from using the words ‘honeytrap’ and ‘sexy’ because I made too many insinuations about sleeping with you.  Although, now that I know you, I think I was a fool to want to so readily dive down your pants.  You deserve to be loved, not fucked.” Dabi’s temperature was rising steadily in his arms and against his mouth where he was still kissing a path along his jaw.  It was probably time to stop, before the pyro actually started overheating in his grasp, but that was fine.  Hawks wanted him as his mate, he wanted their whole lives.  He didn’t think he could pick anyone else anymore, he was pretty sure his instincts—which were keyed onto the whole ‘permanent, forever, lifelong, mine’ thing—had already latched onto the gentle hands that had scooped him up when he’d been lying in danger, who’d brushed away the hurt when he’d gotten his tail caught in the door, who thought less about himself than anyone else Hawks knew, that would never ask for protection or kindness—afterall, he was so certain he didn’t deserve it—but who really did deserve it, in multitudes in fact.  Too late, Hawks knew, my instincts only want you.  You’re the only one they want to spoil, and keep warm, and lock in feathers, and coo to and nuzzle against.  Dabi, Dabi, Dabi Dabi, my mate.

He stepped back.  Gazed at Dabi, whose lip trembled ever so lightly, a substitute to his eyes filling with tears, like he was angry to be letting himself listen when he knew it was a trick.  “I’m not lying.” Hawks cooed gently.

Dabi clenched his jaw together.  “I don’t get it…” He breathed, too fragile.  And it flashed in Hawks’ mind for just a second, another world where Dabi was right and there were heroes in the other room, where Hawks had brought them here to snatch Dabi away and hurt him hurt him hurt him more and more and more and again and again like he’d been hurt his whole life, without understanding him, without knowing him.  Hawks knew that the way Dabi was looking up at him was open and genuine enough that heroes barging in now would break him completely, right to the core.  Just one more betrayal, one more instance of not being good enough or worth anything.  Why bother recovering from such a thing if it was just going to happen again?  It was easier to just break, easier to let your eyes go dull as death and your mind freeze over into numbness.  Just like a husk.

Hawks slowly sunk to his knees, his arms untangling from Dabi’s belt to slide around his waist and tug him into a hug so he could bury his face in his stomach.  His wings spilled out behind him like a liquid curtain of blood red quills, the smallest feathers like droplets tumbling across the floor.  “You’re more important to me than the Hero Commission, and the other heroes, you know.” He admitted softly, so truthful that it tasted odd in his mouth to say.

“You’re insane.” Dabi said in response, but his voice wasn’t so breakable anymore.  It was like normal, that same rasp, although still tinged a little with shock, and a little with disbelief, and a little with awe, too. 

“I’m going to convince you.”

And he waited through the long silence that followed, waiting until…

“…okay.”

Hawks laughed breathily into Dabi’s shirt, tightening his arms around him.  He hopped back to his feet, grin wide, and then let himself smirk, so relieved that he could have fallen back down.  “But in the meantime, about the whole making love to you thing…”

“Like I’d let you.” Dabi growled, flinty glint returning to his gaze.  “Other way around birdie.”

Hawks’ wings twitched in interest, his head tilting to the side in an unmistakably bird-like way.  Dabi gaped at him, disbelieving, when he said, “Why not do both ways, I say.”

“You horny little—”

“Yeah, it’s too close to spring for me to be having this conversation.”

“Spring.” Dabi’s eyebrows drew down in confusion, an expression more flabbergasted than Hawks had seen on the villain before.  “Spring?  The fuck does spring have to—”

“Mating season.” Hawks clarified lowly, eyes darkening.  “Has everything to do with cold villains that trigger my coddling instincts about as much as they can be triggered.  Physical activity is a good way to warm up, I hear.  Skin to skin is even better.” His eyes trailed along Dabi, with his sprite-like body, delicate enough to be a fairie’s.  A shit-eating grin morphed onto his face.  “Although, I wonder how long your stamina would last.”

Dabi scowled and straightened, taller than Hawks again when he stood like that.  “Plenty long you obnoxious peacock.”

“I’m sure it will once I’ve fattened you up more!  Did you like my cooking?  I’m pretty good at it, right?”

A smirk began to form on Dabi’s face.  “It was—”

“It was not dry!!”

Dabi snorted, and Hawks remembered how much he liked Dabi’s laugh. 

“Live with me.” He said, taken aback by how real his voice had all at once become.

Dabi stopped laughing and just stared at him instead.

“I mean,” Hawks backtracked.  “We practically lived together when I was a cat, and it’s not that different except that my house is bigger and warmer and I have a lot of blankets so…”

“You’re so mad.” Dabi breathed again, shaking his head slowly.  “Seriously, I thought I was insane.  So many steps to your house, and there’s no way I would let you fly me down.  You live in this crazy fancy part of town, and I’d have to bother with a proper disguise when I went out.  I bet heroes stop by, and paparazzi monitor it like crazy.  You don’t even know my name, birdie.”

Hawks just waited, breath lodged so firmly in his throat it was a miracle he wasn’t suffocating.  “You’ll be lonely…without a cat, or coincidentally maybe a bird, to keep you company.”

He felt like grimacing at the thought of the cold rundown apartment Dabi owned, and he’d never even been there alone before, so he could only imagine how Dabi felt thinking about it.

“Sounds like a hassle.” Dabi leaned back, gaze tipping up to the ceiling like he hadn’t heard what Hawks had said.  “Your house has no decorations anywhere, no paintings or plants or posters.  Your soup is dry, looking out your balcony would make me nauseous every time I did it, and you’re lazy enough that your first thought when you got turned into a cat was to freeload at the nearest person’s house, villain or not, so I can only imagine how often you send your feathers to fetch things for you instead of getting up yourself…do you even wash your own clothes?  There’s no washing baskets in your house and there’s a little stamp sheet on the back of the door that’s been ticked by who I can only presume to be weekly cleaning staff.  Also, your television remote still has the plastic sticker that you have to remove before you can put batteries in it…so presumably you don’t have Netflix.  What a turn off…”

Dabi’s eyes softened.  Around his mouth, the faintest traces of amusement could be read in the way the corner of his lips was upturned. 

“But okay.”

Chapter Text

“Hawks, four weeks ago you disappeared for almost nine days with no explanation, forewarning, proof of ailment or illness, or even a measly text, and now you wish to tell me you’re…”

“Resigning on Saturdays, Sundays and every second Wednesday exclusively.” He said brightly, grinning.  “If I have forewarning of say, a month, then I can shuffle my days maybe if you need me, or if there’s a massive emergency, but that’s about it.  Endeavor works the weekends doesn’t he?  Sounds to me like he’s avoiding family dinners but I don’t know the big guy well enough to know for sure.”

The Commission President’s eyebrow twitched rather aggressively.  Hawks took that as his cue to keep jovially rambling. 

“So you see, if he’s working weekends, and I’m working Monday and Tuesday when he has his days off, there’s absolutely no problem.  Besides, there’s like five hundred odd other heroes, so I feel like it’ll be fine.”

Her eyebrow twitching increased.  A strange smile was stuck on her face, like someone had glued it there.  It looked to be a very pained smile.  “What,” She began through gritted teeth.  “Brought this on, Hawks?”

He tapped his fingers against his chin.  “My mate told me that if I didn’t stop working so much he was going to start inviting his friends over when I was gone.”

Her twitchy eyebrows drew down so sharply at the word ‘mate’ that Hawks almost couldn’t see her eyes.  And yet all she said, in a rather faint tone, was, “I don’t see the problem.”

Hawks grinned without amusement.  “You haven’t met his friends.”

“No, I mean, ugh.” She cleared her throat, still looking like she was desperately out of her depth.  “Mate…” she clarified.  “So, who is…he?  Have you catalogued, him, in the system as your current sexual partner yet?”

Hawks’ eyes turned sharp.  “I don’t believe I’m obliged to answer the first question, nor am I going to do the second.  I’d say sorry if I was, except when I think about it, it all sounds terribly ridiculous to me that I ever did that in the first place.  It’s got nothing to do with you, Lady President.” 

She sighed heavily.  “Look, Hawks,” She began.  “Can’t you just…pick another mate?  Say, one of the girls that we picked out for you?  I can have the list printed again if you’d like.”

“No.”

Her jaw clenched.  Her nasty little smile became incredibly petty, and Hawks half wanted to laugh.  “So I take it then that you’re no longer enamoured with Dabi at least.”

The jibe made him chuckle.  “Huh?  Having a mate doesn’t make me blind you know, Dabi’s about the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen.  Literally smoking hot~”

Her eyes bugged out of her head.  “You can’t—” She choked.  “You can’t resign.  It wasn’t part of your contract for you to resign—”

Her rapid change of topic barely deterred Hawks.  She really should have realised what she was in for when she brought up Dabi, who was essentially a banned topic at this point.  “Hang on, hang on.  I was telling you about how sexy Dabi is, lemme finish.”

She reached for a cup of water like she needed the distraction and it was vodka.  The opportunity was way too golden to pass up. 

“Like, if sex had eyes, they would be a glittering cerulean blue the same colour as Dabi’s.”

Ah, he never thought he’d see the Commission President cough water through her nose.  What a sight. 

He took the opportunity to sober his voice and straighten from where he’d been dramatically leaning against the table, swooning.  “Alright, back to business though—before it starts getting too steamy in here.” He fanned himself off for emphasise.  “Heroes are legally permitted two days a week of rest if they so choose.  They also cannot be forced to work more than ten hours a day.  Since you’ve disregarded such legalities for the past, hm, ten years, if I add up the days, I think I should get a couple years of paid vacation at least.  Since I won’t go to the court about your violation of human rights in Japan, nor will I ask for those straight years off, I will be taking those days I requested for myself.  It’s not really up to discussion sorry.”

She spluttered at him.

Hawks however, wasn’t listening anymore.  He’d been distracted by the far off signal of one of his feathers that he’d left at home being tampered with.  It wasn’t Dabi’s gentle hands shifting it like he did when he was cleaning, or Toga’s grabby ones whenever she invited herself over and took a fancy to them.  It was a sensation he didn’t recognise.  Like something had thrown the feather up in the air and was then batting it back to the ground immediately after.  Another of his feathers buzzed and he received the same sort of input.  And then two more.  He tilted his head, trying to clarify his connection and figure out what was happening.  “Sorry…” He said, waving absently to the indignant Commission President, whose hair had come loose at some point and it really made her look like the banshee she was.  “I gotta go.  See you on Monday though!”

“Hawks!” She screeched after him when he jumped out the window.  “Monday?!  It’s Friday today!!”

He landed easily on his balcony railing not too long after, hopping down and pulling the door open.  He couldn’t…see anything amiss exactly.  Although the feathers he usually left as an internal alarm system had all been moved. 

He stepped inside and wondered over to the open loungeroom, leaning around the corner to find Dabi sitting on the ground, most of his body obscured by the edge of the couch, his gaze tilted down and that soft grin on his mouth at whatever he was looking at. 

“Hey Dabs, wh—holy hell!”

The terrified yelp Hawks made was entirely, definitely, very masculine and mature.  Not at all undignified or anything.  What was he supposed to have done though?!  One moment, it was just Dabi, and then he’d spoke and like true demons from hell all at once at least a dozen small heads had suddenly poked up from everywhere.  There was…one, two, three sitting on the couch looking at him.  Four on Dabi’s lap.  One sitting on the coffee table—he’d thought it was a goddamn pillow before it had moved—two more tangled amongst the cushions of his couch nest, and one streaking across the space between the couch and the kitchen like a freaking rat.  And there was one more sprawled under his bookshelf, golden eyes lit by the blueish light of a phon—oh wait, that one was Toga. 

“Cats, Dabi?!  Why are they here?!!”  He didn’t acknowledge that his voice had gone up two octaves on that last word.  Well that explained the feather sensation however.  They were quite literally getting batted around and played with.  By cats.

Dabi grinned at him, and now it was very much wolfish.  “You don’t recognise them, birdie?”

Hawks looked closer, and to his horror, they were indeed the cats from the alleyway that Dabi always visited. 

“Um…you know, cats and birds really don’t—”

“I’m going to name them.” Dabi said, a soft determination in his gaze.  “Since it’s safe here.”

Since it’s safe here.

And just like that, Hawks calmed.

His feathers, which had puffed up wildly when the demons had made themselves known, receded back to their normal state.  He felt everything in his being soften and he slid his hands into his pockets, drawing in a long breath.

Safe. 

Yeah, it was safe here. 

Hawks would make it safe always, and Dabi probably would too. 

I think that that’s…home. 

“Well,” He untucked one of his hands from his pocket and pointed at the nearest, a skinny grey thing with ribs that could be counted, a nick on its ear that Dabi had closed for it with a single staple that made it look like a pirate cat, and a soft pink nose.  “Then that one’s called Fuzzface.”

Dabi followed his hand and his eyes lit up.  “Yeah…” He agreed, and Hawks thought he was the most beautiful thing to ever exist.

Hawks couldn’t help just looking at him.  At his long arms, visible because he was only wearing one of Hawks’ white shirts—the slits in the back gave it away—and some loose pants that tightened around the cuff of his ankles.  The way his legs were tucked easily beneath him, one knee under his body, the other up so he could lean his elbow on it, his feet bare because the fluffy carpet wasn’t cold tiles.  His hair was a messy tumble of mottled grey, black and pale snow strands because he’d forgotten to dye it again the night before and didn’t seem to care as much anymore.  The light of the sun shone gently in from the high window above the kitchen, now framed by dangling strings of vines and curling leaves and all manner of happy, reaching plants that sat on the window ledge.  Spinner had been dragged by on one of Toga’s uninvited visits and had taken one look at the plain ceramic pots and randomly begun painting them, so now they were an intricate swirl of yellows and reds and blues and greens and purples and oranges.  Hawks hadn’t known the lizard mutant knew how to paint, but then, he didn’t know enough about the people that society had declared war on.  Not at all.

The warmth of the sun had caused most of the cats to twist onto their backs and curl into weird shapes beneath its soft glow.  With the sleepy way Dabi watched them, Hawks wondered how long it would take him to join them.  Even Toga had rolled out from beneath the bookcase to rest her head on Dabi’s leg, her tongue stuck out one corner of her mouth in concentration as she smashed buttons on whatever game was on her phone. 

Hawks stretched his wings out behind him and smiled so wide and fond that he hadn’t known it was an expression he could make.  He dropped himself down on Dabi’s other side, leaning his head against him too, and pulled out his phone.  “Hey Toga, think you could download as many games as you can think of onto my phone?”

She made a delighted sound.  “Absolutely!  Oh, but Shigy should do it!  He knows waaay better games than me, he chose all of the ones I play.  He’s like Dabi you know,” She giggled, “If you give him some food too I think be more than happy to do whatever.  We can have a slumber party!  Have them for dinner Hawksie!!  Since you’re rich!!”

“Yeah Hawksie,” Dabi crooned.  “Don’t you want to meet the League?”

Hawks swallowed.  “At my house?”

He swallowed again, clearing his throat.  “Sure.” He hummed a little nervously. 

Dabi clicked his mouth in mock annoyance at being used as a pillow and shifted to stretch his legs out, but Hawks could practically feel the contentment rippling from his body.  He really should’ve been a cat, then he could’ve been purring.  “You’ll like them.” He decided. 

Hawks snorted.  Still, strangely enough, he believed him.

Toga squealed so suddenly that Hawks nearly leapt out of his skin.  “And I know exactly what we can read over dinner!” She rummaged wildly around her coat for half a second before triumphantly pulling out a small bundle of severely crumpled pages that Hawks thought looked kind of familiar.  He squinted at them, trying to read the fine black words from where he was. 

She flipped to a random page.  “But really Madam President,” She began, “Dabi is seriously sexy, I think you should reconsider the notion of a honeypot mi—”

The pages were ripped out of her hands and combusted into blue flames before a single other letter could get past her mouth.

“Where did you find that?” Hawks asked mildly, a somewhat smug grin creeping over his face, at the same moment Toga said, “They were on your desk!” And Dabi swung around to face him, looking far beyond aghast at this point.

“You were serious?!”