Chapter Text
The second time it happens, Hawks is pissed off, and freezing cold (again). Shigaraki sent him on some wild goose chase to a seedy warehouse for a USB drive full of “top secret intel,” and then he’d had to make a pit stop to see Spinner on the roof of a high rise building to get a second stupid USB drive, and then he was directed to fly into the middle of fucking nowhere to hand them both off to Dabi, who’s going to pass them to Toga, who is going to—who cares. Hawks is just glad he’s earned more trust, but it’s a double-edged sword.
So he bats his wings against icy rain and chunky sleet as he swoops above a mountain trail. This path is way out of town and dark as obsidian; if he didn’t have such great vision, it would be a nightmare. He wipes his goggles for the hundredth time, clearing away moisture.
He’s been flying for what feels like hours tonight, so the squat cabin is a welcome sight. It’s deep brown, nestled between a thick spray of bare trees. Slush batters hard against the roof. Hawks’ boots land on the frozen dirt beside it and he sags, relieved for once to be on solid ground.
He pats his pocket for the drives (wouldn’t it be a crap show if he had lost them?) and then stomps to the front door. There isn’t an overhang, so the weather continues to drench him after he knocks, and waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Maybe Dabi isn’t even here yet. Hawks slaps the hardwood again, jiggles the doorknob. He’ll let himself in, he just wants out of the elements. He grits his teeth and shoves his weight into it, hard.
Definitely locked. So annoying.
He rears back and slams into it again, only for it to open, and for his shoulder to collide with Dabi’s sternum.
The other man coughs in surprise and stumbles backward at the unexpected impact. They topple through the doorframe and Hawks falls flat into him, so they’re nose-to-nose.
“Couldn’t give me five fucking seconds?” Dabi hisses with a glare. His eyes glower, iridescent and blue.
Hawks blinks and catches his breath. His train of thought screeches to a grinding halt at their position. Memories from a few weeks ago flit through his brain—but he cuts them off. This is the first time they’ve been alone since then. (And among company, they act like it never happened.) He’s determined to be normal.
Hawks’ wings beat against the air to help him stand, quickly. Disgruntled, he wipes off the front of his jacket.
“It’s cold. And I didn’t think you were here.” Hawks grumbles. He turns and shuts the door while Dabi stands up. He had been slow, Hawks isn’t going to apologize.
The cabin is plain and mostly empty. There’s a rickety dining table with two chairs, a small, bare mattress, and an open fireplace, devoid of kindling. An old, wood-burning stove and a mini-fridge are in the “kitchen.” A cubicle-sized bathroom is connected. Only three windows decorate the walls but they’re covered with dark curtains. One single, yellow lightbulb buzzes overhead, casting sepia shadows in every corner.
“Cry me a river.” Dabi rolls his eyes. He holds out a waiting hand. “Do you have what Shigaraki asked for?”
Hawks digs into his pocket and deposits the plastic baggie in Dabi’s palm. Both USB drives are inside, perfectly dry.
“Here you go, delivery complete.” Hawks pulls out his phone and jots a quick text to Shigaraki; his part is done. He hears Dabi tapping away, doing the same. Two updates are better than one.
But it’s still practically hailing. Hawks sure as hell doesn’t want to fly home in this.
He puts his phone away and casts his eyes around the room again. It’s not the Ritz-Carlton, but he’s certainly camped out in worse digs.
“I’m gonna wait out the weather for a bit, so tell me how to lock up, or whatever.” Hawks turns around as he speaks. He starts to peel off his coat, releasing a ton of feathers to easily fit his wings through the zippers in the back. Once his jacket is hanging on the chair to dry, he calls his feathers to return. They each flick off droplets of water before snuggling back into place. Better already.
“That was weird.” Dabi quips, after a beat of silence.
Hawks stiffens, feeling awkward. He doesn’t face him.
“My clothes and wings are waterlogged. Flying back in this will be a pain so I’m just gonna hang here for a little. So, like I said, gimme the key or something.”
To his surprise, he hears Dabi drag out a chair. When Hawks finally looks over his shoulder, the other is seated at the table, cheek resting on his hand. His eyes are glazed and bored.
“I’m not meeting Toga until two AM.” Dabi explains with a shrug. “She’s ‘busy.’”
What does that mean, is Hawks supposed to leave? He glances down, then back to Dabi, brows furrowed. Sensing his discomfort, Dabi smirks.
“Don’t get those feathers in a bunch, Birdie. You can keep me company while you warm up.”
If “warm up” is said with any innuendo, Hawks ignores it. He also ignores “Birdie.”
But he sighs and decides fuck it. The blowjob—that was a one-time thing. That was a crazy, stupid, delirium-driven thing. Hawks is thinking more clearly today. He’s tired, but he’s had way more sleep than that night. All he’s going to do is dry off, wait for the storm to clear up, and then go. He refuses to fall into any flirty trap. (Even if Dabi’s a dangerous kind of handsome. Even if Hawks notices it more and more every League meeting.)
Hawks shucks out of his boots and tosses them by the door. He folds his goggles and earmuffs and sets them down on the table, slips off his gloves, then settles into the other chair.
Dabi’s still staring at him. Hawks pointedly doesn’t make eye contact, instead tugs out his phone to catch up on emails. Service out here is shit though, they take forever to load. He can’t reply to any of them.
The silence stretches, except for the steady thrum of sleet outside. It plicks against the glass windowpanes. Dabi taps his fingers against the tabletop, slowly. Hawks wishes he could play some music, anything.
“I can’t remember the last time I was cold.” Dabi says, out of nowhere. Hawks finally looks up, locking eyes with him. The villain tilts his head, like he’s studying him. Like the very idea of being cold is perplexing.
“Remind me what it’s like?” Dabi says, and Hawks can’t tell if it’s genuine, or if he’s being tested.
What is this, an olive branch? Is this how it is, in the League? They can have regular ass conversations, they don’t just yammer on about the flaws of society all the time? Is Hawks supposed to snark something back at him or answer honestly? Which earns him another wrung up the ladder? Are they really supposed to just chat like regular, old coworkers?
“Uh.” Hawks sets his phone down, decides to give it a go. “I dunno. It’s, it’s being cold? I don’t know how to articulate that. The opposite of being hot. Instead of sweating you’re shivering. You’re usually, like, wet, too, like in rain or snow.”
Dabi raises an eyebrow. “Wet?”
Got it. Okay. He’s going there. Hawks immediately feels stupid, he’s being played with, lured in. Dabi’s a cat and Hawks is a mouse.
“Yeah.” Hawks rolls his eyes. He pinches his shirt, lifts it from laying flush against his skin, feeling self-conscious. Feeling pinned-down.
“For sure.” Dabi nods. His elbow slides further down the table, he’s looking up at Hawks. “You sure are wet right now, aren’t you, Hawks?”
Hawks sucks his teeth. Right.
What’s the best course of action, here? Sarcasm? Something petty? Telling Dabi to cut that shit out? Give up and leave?
No, the weather rages. Wind whips against the door, thudding loudly. Hawks startles, tries not to jump.
Leaving is a no-go.
“Hawks?”
Hawks’ sharp eyes cut back to Dabi. The man across from him pushes to sit back up, crossing his arms over his chest. The neckline of his shirt hangs low, revealing a pale stretch of chest under those purple scars.
“Got hypothermia over there?” His lip turns up at the corner, revealing a sharp canine. “Freezing up?”
Hawks scoffs through his nose. This is dumb. He’s not gonna fall for it.
And two can play at this game. If Dabi’s trying to scare him off or get in his pants again, Hawks isn’t going to let him win.
“Yeah. I’m an ice cube. And I’m soaked.” He lays on the emphasis, crosses his own arms. Mirrors the cocky body language like he’s been taught to do to keep a foot up on someone. Never let them think they’re better. His wings stretch wide, posturing on their own accord.
He catches Dabi eyeing them. His gaze roams from the lithe, smooth ends to—to the base, or what he can see of it, at least.
Hawks remembers that moment in a flash. Hot hands in his down, yanking, fisting…coming into oblivion.
Hawks flaps them and clears his throat, tucks them back close to his shoulder blades. Which, in this case is a sign of inferiority, but he tips his chin up to counter. Forces a casual air.
“Huh.” Dabi nods, like he’s considering that. “Well, no, doesn’t ring any bells. I’m always toasty. I’d offer to light a fire for you over there, but, no firewood. What a shame.”
Hawks tsks. “Yeah, what a shame.”
He looks over to the charred fireplace, full of powdery ash. God, it would be nice. He almost suggests using the chair he’s sitting in, but it would come off as extremely desperate.
And Hawks is not desperate.
Not for a fire, not for Dabi’s advances. (Even if giving Dabi head had scratched every itch he has.)
He hums and shrugs. “I’ll be fine. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“It shouldn’t?”
“No, these winter storms always end quick.”
Dabi clasps his hands and places them on the table. “Right. Even if the forecast says it’s supposed to last until midmorning. But you never know.”
Hawks clenches his jaw. So he hadn’t checked the weather. Fine. Once he’s rested up, he’ll just chance it.
Dabi knocks his joined hands on the wood, steeples his fingers. Then he slides his palms together, quick, until they shine just a little bit blue.
The heat is immediate. It wafts outward like a sauna, fans over Hawks’ torso, and then it’s dashed. Dabi’s hands lose their luster and he drums over the wood again.
Fucking asshole.
“Sorry.” Dabi says, but he’s clearly not sorry. He’s actually grinning, sly like a fox. His stapled cheek dimples. “Force of habit. Like a tic. Sometimes I’m just boiling with my Quirk, I gotta let it out.”
“Mmhm.” Hawks leans back into the chair, kicks his feet up on the table to put distance between them. Like he definitely doesn’t need the goddamn fire. No sir.
Hawks picks up his phone again, determined to ignore Dabi’s teasing. He scrolls through his emails and starts to draft one, to send when he has service. Tries to put a wall between them.
A rock hard wall.
Hawks’ mind starts to slant and he erects the wall even higher.
Erects.
Motherfucker.
Meanwhile, Dabi keeps doing that damn thing, like it’s a “habit,” a bored routine, yeah, right. He’s “absentmindedly” sending out waves of warmth. Hawks shifts in his chair, tries not to sigh when they caress his face. His feathers tingle, turning towards the invisible clouds like flowers to the sun. Damn them.
Hawks makes seventeen typos and tries to fix his sentence three times. Gonna be a great email.
…Can Dabi feel it, whatever his heat touches? Is it like his feathers? Extra sensitive, an extension of himself?
Another bursts over him, curves along his neck. Hawks can’t help it, he closes his eyes, breathes deep.
“Hawks.”
Fuck.
“What.” Not a question. Not an invitation. He glares back at Dabi.
The warmth cuts off, vanishes suddenly, dousing Hawks like a plunge into a frigid pool. It sucks.
Dabi smiles back at him, licks his lips slowly, intentionally. Like he wants to eat him. “When are you going to stop?”
Hawks pretends not to know, even though his heart starts to beat harder. His wings curl closer to his back, reacting to the drop in temperature. Outside, the hail is incessant.
“Stop what?” He growls.
Dabi actually stands up and Hawks’ stomach plummets. He leans into Hawks’ space, splays his palms flat on each side of Hawks’ calves. His fucking feathers poof in surprise and Hawks feels a blush creep up his neck.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
“When are you going to stop acting…like you don’t want me to touch you?”
Shit. Fucking shit.
Dabi’s eyes light up with amusement at Hawks’ unschooled expression. Every rational part of Hawks’ brain tells him no, don’t do this again.
“But you know the rules I have, Birdie.” Dabi lifts a hand and runs his finger over Hawks’ ankle. The reaction is fucking immediate, Hawks twitches.
(Shit’s tough, okay? He doesn’t get laid a lot. People think he does, but, his schedule is atrocious, and he can be kinda private about the weird bird stuff, and—)
Dabi squeezes right over his knee, into the meat of his thigh. Hawks grabs those rational-brain-parts and shoves them out a mental window.
Fuck this, he gives up. He gives in. Yeah, okay, Dabi wins. His heart catapults into his throat.
“‘Rules’?” Hawks parrots back. His thigh tenses when warmth spreads from Dabi’s hand.
Oh, God, this is gonna be a train wreck.
Dabi lets go, cutting him off. He raps on the tabletop again. “You’ve gotta tell me you want it, or I won’t give it to you.”
Hawks inhales.
“Don’t you want me to warm you up?” Another blast, a cozy, summer wind that drifts from Dabi’s being, over Hawks’ whole body. He hums.
Yeah. He really does. He wants Dabi to warm him up and dick him down, holy hell.
A voice in his head says, “No, Hawks, don’t worry, you’re nailing the ‘not being extremely desperate’ thing.”
Hawks swallows, throat thick. Pathetic, how quickly he caves.
“I do.”
Dabi makes a quiet, pleased sound. He backs off, but then steps around the table to loom over Hawks. With a strong hand he knocks Hawks’ feet back to the floor, tilts his chair so he’s sitting straight. Dabi steals his phone, throws it onto the mattress across the room, then immediately clutches the hair at the back of his head. And, oh—oh, yeah. Familiar lust swirls through Hawks’ groin.
“Good. Step one done, wasn’t that easy?” He tightens his grip and Hawks grunts. “Now tell me how you want it, hero.”
Literally any way, Hawks’ resolve is crumbling. He’s demolishing that wall he put up with a sledgehammer.
He remembers last time, Dabi’s impatience. Hawks jumbles together an answer.
“You could fuck me.”
Oh, shit, okay, logic’s definitely out the window. Hawks’ inner animal wants Dabi to jump straight from oral to fucking and that’s—
Dabi laughs, close to his cheek. He lowers his lips to Hawks’ jaw and licks near his ear, suckles. Heat emanates out from the spot. Dabi moves like molasses, dragging his lips until they meet Hawks’ own. He kisses him stupid, his tongue is hot, and Hawks chases it with a broken moan.
“God, Hawks,” Dabi whispers against his mouth, “You try so hard not to be, but, you’re such a fucking slut. Can’t even help it, can you? You wanted me the minute you walked in here.”
Dabi releases his hair and the sudden lack of tension makes the room spin. Before Hawks can put two and two together, the villain is yanking him by the wrist, pulling him to stand—and then shoving him into the dining table, bent in half.
Hawks huffs out a sharp breath of pain when his stomach is jammed into the table’s edge. His chest flattens to it and he has just enough instinct to flutter his wings, saving his face from slamming into the wood.
Dabi apparently likes that. He wastes no time in catching his wings, gripping the soft edges and forcing them to be still. He pulls them apart, stretches them wide, and Hawks’ dicks springs to attention.
“Fuck.” He groans, back arching involuntarily. “Ah—that’s—ah!”
That’s a surefire way to make him come in his pants.
“Too much, too soon?” Dabi teases from behind. His body is flush against Hawks’ ass. Hawks’ socked foot slips on the floor and Dabi pushes against him, keeps him in place. He feels the curve of his hard cock and it makes his mouth water.
“I thought that was the point, Birdie.” Dabi’s fingers slide down, magma in their wake, and delve into his downy feathers.
Holy fucking overload.
“Shit.”
Dabi massages, mussing them up, kneading down like Hawks is made of pizza dough. Then he’s gone, leaving Hawks panting. His abdomen jumps and his hands finally make purchase on the table, half-holding himself up. Mostly just keeping himself from drowning in his own puddle of drool.
“Take this off.” Dabi demands, untucking his shirt. He pulls it up, towards Hawks’ armpits. “Let me see them better.”
Hawks exhales and blearily sends his feathers flying. They swirl in a circle, listless, while Dabi wriggles him out of his shirt. It makes a wet thwap when it hits the floor. Dabi snatches one red petal from the air, runs a finger over it.
Hawks shivers, feels it in his core.
“You’re gonna be a fun fuck, aren’t you, Hawks?”
He groans into the tabletop. “Jesus Christ.”
His feathers surge and swirl then find their way back home. Hawks’ wings beat quickly, hopelessly, excitedly. Dabi lets go of the one piece he’s pinching, and it wiggles in to join the masses.
Dabi’s palms strike into his shoulder blades, sizzling, and skate down, down, down, roaming into the fuzz of his back once more. He plays with the base of his wings until Hawks can’t breathe, rutting uselessly into nothing. He chirps and bangs his head down, so turned on he might explode.
“You know,” Dabi says, conversationally, like he’s not killing him. “I thought I liked filling up your mouth, getting you to shut the hell up. But to be honest you sound really good like this. Can you come like this, from just this? Have you tried?”
Has he tried? Is Dabi joking? He’s been doing it since he was thirteen.
“Mmm—yeah.” Hawks gasps, stifling an insanely loud moan. His fingernails, sharp like talons, dig into the varnish. “Doesn’t—fuck—take much like this.”
Dabi stops cold and Hawks almost screeches like the raptor he is. He bites his knuckle and squirms.
“Huh. Maybe some other time.” Dabi peruses. Then his hot palms are running down Hawks’ sides, to the waistband of his pants. He tugs his hips forward, humps against him, and reaches around to undo the button and zipper. He yanks them down with Hawks’ underwear in one smooth motion, bunching them to his knees.
“Cute.” Dabi chuckles, running his fingers over the curve of Hawks’ ass, down to his upper thighs. His touch melts like candle wax.
Hawks whines and pushes up to his tiptoes. Maybe he is a whore. Whatever.
Then.
Crack.
A slap stings over Hawks’ asscheek, aided by Dabi’s Quirk, scalding like a brand. Hawks wails and presses his forehead into the table, squeezing his eyes shut.
That’s—
“So good.” He keens. Trills sing from inside his chest, he can’t keep them down. Again, whatever. Dabi clearly enjoys them.
Dabi laughs in surprise, smooths over the spot he just smacked.
And does it again.
“Nnngh!” Hawks feels it up his spine. His cock aches, untouched.
“Stay like that.” Dabi commands, though Hawks has no plans to move. His wings flit uselessly, struggling with overstimulation.
Hawks distantly hears Dabi walk across the floor to root around in the bathroom. Clatter rings as he apparently chucks shit out of a medicine cabinet.
“Maybe we need to start keeping this place more stocked.” Dabi complains, returning. Hawks swallows and breathes hard, looking over his shoulder. He can’t imagine how red his face is. The villain smirks at him and holds up a bottle of strawberry-scented lotion.
“This’ll have to do, Birdie.”
Honestly?
Hawks would’ve taken him dry, at that point.
“Sure, whatever.” Hawks breathes. He ogles Dabi while he undoes his pants. His wings flick up with anticipation. Dabi undoes his fly and pulls the waistband down just enough to take his cock out, like before. Goosebumps zip over Hawks’ skin at the heat that nudges suddenly between his ass. He whimpers and shifts his weight back, leaning into it, arcing his head down again.
“Tell me you want it.” Dabi’s voice is low, rough. A fruity, floral scent hits the air the minute the bottle is uncapped. Hawks will never be able to eat strawberries the same way again. Not after this.
Two slippery fingers teases him, brushing over his rim. Hawks fucking cheeps, god dammit.
“C’mon, Birdie.” Dabi’s warm, wet mouth sucks a hickey onto his hip. “Remember what I said before? I won’t assault someone, so I need to hear you say it.”
Hawks doesn’t remember how to speak human language. His eyes screw shut at the light petting.
“Hawks.” Dabi warns.
Then, holy fuck, he slaps his ass again.
“Nnnn—! Shit, yeah, fuck me, Dabi. Fuck.”
There’s not much foreplay. Dabi hums and pistons his fingers into Hawks a few times, earning a strangled, choked sound. Maybe he just picks up Hawks’ urgency, matches his energy as he thrusts his hips back to meet it.
Maybe there just isn’t a need for foreplay, in whatever the fuck this thing between them is.
Dabi’s cock is a lot bigger than his fingers are, Hawks remembers how it felt hitting his throat. It’s one million times better hitting his prostate.
“Da—Christ.” Hawks grips the edge of the table, feeling untethered. His dick leaks with precum and his wings bunch up tight.
Dabi squeezes the daylights out of his waist, hands scorching. He fucks into Hawks so hard that the table scrapes along the floor. The sound is ear-splitting, but Hawks’ moaning drowns it out. He can’t get his footing in socks, ends up smushed even more into the wood. His accessories rattle to the floor.
“You’re tight as shit,” Dabi hisses, unrelenting. “When’s the last time somebody pounded you, hero?”
Hawks’ arm finally slips and his cheek slams down. He doesn’t even care anymore. The ache is good, everywhere. His ass, his face, his legs—he wants Dabi to fuck him senseless.
And he can’t remember how it feels to be cold, either.
“I—I don’t know.” Hawks answers honestly. It had been a long while, somebody at a club, months ago? Last year? He’d shed most of his feathers to hide his identity under a hoodie and let a random guy bone him in a bathroom stall. Normally, it’s just him and his right hand.
“Fucking hot.” Dabi appreciates. One hand pulls the small of Hawks’ back, forcing him into an arch, and the other trails dangerously close to the base of his wings, steamrolling him into the table.
Hawks whimpers. He wants to touch himself but he can’t, held down like this.
And that’s thrilling.
Dabi fucks him harder and Hawks feels lotion squish out from the force. Long, angled strokes, all the way out, all the way in. Fast as shit. The noises are vulgar, wet, way more than Hawks was when he walked in tonight.
God, he could come already. If he could just jerk himself off.
But he also never wants this to end. It can sleet, and hail, and storm forever. And Toga can get her stupid USB drives in the morning.
“Haah. Ah, fuck.” Hawks groans at a particularly heavy roll of hips. Dabi pitches deeper, shortens his ministrations, grinds down into the cleft of Hawks’ ass.
“You feel amazing.” Dabi praises. He leans forward, burrows his fist in Hawks’ tiny, fluffy feathers again and makes a goddamn nest there.
“Oooooh!” Hawks cries out. He feels himself clench around Dabi’s cock. His wings flail at the sensation, almost knocking into the man behind him. A huge gust of air hits the wall.
“Nn, and that feels extra amazing.” Dabi does it again, rabbits into him as he winds tighter and tighter. “Yeah, Birdie, fuck.”
Hawks isn’t forming words anymore, just chittering out inhuman sounds and tweets. He can’t even try to be humiliated. Dabi fucks way too good. His chest unravels with the intensity of it. His animal brain begs to be bred like this.
“You close?” Dabi rasps. “‘Cause if not, you’re about to be.”
That’s—Good God. Longing flares through Hawks like a firework. Or maybe that’s the heat from Dabi’s body, he isn’t really sure. But he rubs over his feathers like they’re a goddamn clit and hits him from the back with so much intensity that Hawks’ entire frame tremors. Ripples of pleasure rush through him, erupting from where they connect.
“Ah—ahhhh, fuck!”
Hawks blows his load, painting the floor. He mashes his face into the hardwood and practically sobs. Dabi keeps fucking him, plowing through his orgasm, seeking his own.
Using him.
It’s so sexy, Hawks almost comes twice.
“Shit, yeah, come on my cock, Hawks. God, you’re pretty—you—fuck.” Words spill from Dabi, increasingly frantic. His pace jerks and stutters, but doesn’t cease. His fingers twist into Hawks’ feathers and his palm blazes over Hawks’ hip and then—
“Yeah, Hawks—nghh,” Dabi moans, pumping hot cum into him. Doesn’t quit until he’s totally done, gushing his spend out of Hawks’ ass and onto his skin. He rocks slowly for a long time, riding it out, then finally stops.
Hawks shakes in the aftermath, he’s never been fucked like this. Never been satisfied like this. His wings contract and his back still spasms under Dabi’s ironclad fingers. Everything droops in exhaustion when the other finally lets go.
Dabi pulls out and pinches Hawks’ asscheek again, like he’s admiring his work. He wonders how dark the handprints are.
“Think you might feel that tomorrow, hero.” He remarks, zipping back up.
Hawks has flatlined.
No, not really. He’s just empty-headed and complacent.
He swallows, throat raw from yelling and from his funky bird calls. Switching between the two always feels strange.
He hears Dabi tapping his foot behind him.
“…Are you…okay?” Sounds like it’s foreign, coming from him.
“…Mmhm.” Hawks eventually answers, weakly. He wipes back his sweaty hair from his forehead—hah, he’s not cold at all anymore. Somebody open a fucking window. Speaking of, thick rain still pours down outside.
“…All right, well. Here.”
There’s a metallic clink as a key is lobbed onto the table. Hawks registers it slowly.
“Huh?” He asks, still in a fog, even though it’s lifting.
“To lock up?” Dabi replies with irritation, like Hawks is a child asking why the sky is blue. “Bring that back to the compound next time you’re there.”
Hawks blinks at the golden thing, glinting in the amber light of the single bulb.
“…I thought you said…Toga was busy?”
Dabi chuckles, low and dark, and Hawks turns back to look at him. The douchebag actually grins. Then he skims his fingertips over Hawks’ ass again, flicks one cheek so it bounces. Hawks tenses, frazzled and confused.
“Yeah, well, I lied.”
Hawks goes red all over. Hook, line, and sinker, this motherfucker got him. Again.
“Bye, Hawks. See you next time.”
Hawks watches, mouth agape like a fucking fish, as Dabi walks to the door. He waves his fingers and leaves. The sleet sizzles and evaporates right as it hits him and the door slams shut with a squall of wind.
Hawks thumps his head into the tabletop.
Next time. Yeah. He’s done it now, cinched it with this one. One time is an accident, but twice isn’t always just coincidence.
Dabi just gave him the best lay of his life and they both know, with certainty, there will be a next time.