Chapter Text
The first time it happens, Hawks is at his breaking point. Maybe that’s why it happens, maybe not, but it’s enough of a catalyst.
He’s running on forty-three minutes of sleep. And that’s generous. Exhausted, down to the bone, run completely ragged. He’s sore as hell, even his teeth hurt.
His eyes glaze over in one of Shigaraki’s bullshit meetings and the two burner phones in his pockets blow up the entire time. The vibrations against his thighs are new orders, texts, voicemails, emails, memos, contracts, incident reports, intern applications, overdue bills, other miscellaneous agency paperwork, evil doctrines, or whatever. The Commission works him like a dog, while the League gives him all the gritty grunt crap because they still don’t totally trust him. So Hawks has been struggling to keep his head above water.
When the meeting finally ends he books it outside, into the inky black. Masses of Shigaraki’s followers spill into the courtyard and Hawks beelines it in the other direction to a secluded corner, rounds the wall and leans against chilly concrete by himself. He eyeballs the eight million notifications on each phone and then shoves them back in their respective pockets. He’ll go crosseyed trying to deal with all that right now.
It’s bitter cold tonight, little snowflakes float down from above. The air bites his hands even through the gloves. Hawks’ wings nestle close to his body and he shivers.
He sighs heavily, a steamy puff of dragon-breath into the air. Hawks shoves his goggles into his hair and rubs his face until bursts of color appear behind his eyelids.
“Goddamn.” He exhales.
He pats his jacket for a cigarette and is relieved to find one left in the crumpled box. Yeah, yeah, smoking’s a bad habit, but the Commission drug tests him all the time, so what else is he supposed to do?
Hawks wiggles out the cigarette and folds the box back where it came from. Clicks open his lighter and…
Fuck. It’s dead.
He thumbs it obsessively, over and over in the hopes of a spark. This has gotta be a joke, right? Sour cherry on top of a shit sundae.
Nothing. Not even a wisp.
Hawks’ phones continue to go off. He wants to crack them in half, fly as high as he can and let them plummet to the ground. He wants to hurl them into the ocean and shed this uniform and swoop away, just for a few days.
He kinda wants to cry?
That’s super out of character for him, he must really be tired.
With an aggressive grunt, Hawks lobs the lighter into the snow. It doesn’t bounce, just sinks, forms a wet indent. Not even satisfying, he wanted it to shatter.
“What a fucking day.” He mumbles, shoving the cig into his mouth just to feel something. Tobacco on his tongue.
“Need a light?”
Hawks does not screech like a bird, no he doesn’t. A perfectly human noise squeals from his throat.
“What the hell, man? You a ghost or something?!”
Dabi’s to his left, several feet away but leaning on the same wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and levels Hawks with a cool stare.
Huh. So maybe those tingles weren’t the phones, just now. Maybe his feathers were saying, “hey, idiot, look, somebody’s here.”
“Surprised you didn’t hear me. Losing your touch?”
Hawks really isn’t in the mood. He’d normally screw around, say something playful, but he can’t muster it.
“Think so.” He grumbles, still coming down from the scare. His poofy wings flutter, flatten to normal size, then snuggle back to his shoulder blades.
Hawks shouldn’t let an extremely dangerous villain like Dabi see him so vulnerable, but he’s a zombie at the moment.
“Such a shame.” Dabi replies, checking his nails. “We were starting to think you were useful.”
“Yeah, right.” Hawks settles his goggles back into place. Better to hide his eyes. Better to conceal how haggard he looks.
Several quiet beats pass between them. Far away, the ruckus of the rest of the League echoes into the night. Everyone always goes buck wild after these meetings, all riled up.
Dabi holds his hand out. In the shadows it’s hard to see his face, even with Hawks’ eyesight.
“Light?” He offers again, flicking his fingers together. A tiny blue flame pops into existence in his palm and dances against the dark. It’s…sort of beautiful. Like a miniature star.
“…Yeah.” Hawks nods minutely and bridges the gap, stepping closer. He dips the cigarette into the small fire and lifts his hand to shield it from the wind.
Dabi shakes his head. “It won’t go out on its own. Don’t insult me, Birdie.”
Hm. Hawks isn’t sure if it’s the funny nickname or the first breath of nicotine, but he gets a head rush.
“Thanks.” He says, blowing out a cloud of smoke. Warmer already.
Dabi shakes out his hand like it’s wet and the flame vanishes. They’re bathed in darkness again but for the glow of the cigarette butt. A pinprick of orange.
Quiet again. Weird. They definitely aren’t friends, they’re barely even colleagues. Hawks lets the silence droop over them like a blanket while Dabi stares into the woods.
Maybe now’s a good time to go for a walk. Hawks’ll do a lap, finish his cigarette, and then retire to his shitty coat closet of a room at the compound and Dabi can brood here by himself. Maybe this is his usual brooding spot? Perhaps Hawks stepped onto his unspoken territory.
“Well…I’ll see you later.” Hawks gives a two-finger salute and turns to go.
Only one boot crunches into the snow before Dabi speaks up.
“That’s it, huh? That’s all the thanks I get?”
Hawks scoffs and closes his eyes. He takes another deep drag. The smoke itches his esophagus, rumbles into his lungs. He doesn’t have enough energy for banter. It makes him a little mean.
“Yeah? I said ‘thanks,’ didn’t I?” Hawks doesn’t turn around. He’s so over everything, it’s not even funny. “You want me to suck your dick or something?”
Huh.
What a weird thing to say. Like Hawks is just a hooker on the street. Offering himself up.
Why did he say that?
He shouldn’t have said that.
Dabi laughs, bright with surprise. Smoke wafts into the air and Hawks’ brain goes up, up, and away with it.
“Wow. I just wanted to bum a cig, but, if you’re offering, I won’t turn you down, hero.”
Oh.
That’s…huh.
Unexpected.
Hawks can’t fight it, his wings twitch. He’s caught off guard.
Wayyyy off guard.
Dabi chuckles darkly, but it’s a little closer now. He’s taken a few steps forward.
“What now, cat got your tongue? Gonna backtrack on that? It’s okay if you do.” Hawks can hear the smugness in his voice. “I see right through you, Hawks. Always the cool, casual guy, but I know you’re all talk.”
Anger boils in Hawks’ gut. Anger and…something else he won’t name right now because it requires too much self-reflection.
He’s not all talk, he’s actually earned his number two ranking. He’s busting his ass right now infiltrating the League, and keeping up his regular work schedule, and mentoring, and doing paperwork until his eyes bleed, and going to so many meetings, and—and—damn it.
He puffs one more time, slow, deliberate, heavy.
Hawks gulps as much smoke as he can and tosses the cigarette into the snow. It dies with a quiet fizzle.
Fuck it.
“That was my last one, actually, so. Don’t have any to give you.”
“Ah.” Dabi hums. He’s two feet behind him now. Hawks’ back is bathed in body heat, just from proximity. “…So, that means…?”
Hawks’ wings betray him as usual. In the supercharged air, they tremble with anticipation.
It’s been a while.
“…Yeah.”
Before Hawks can turn around, a hand gruffly catches the back of his jacket, right at the neckline. He jolts and almost trips over his own feet as Dabi stumbles them forward, into the forest. Not far, but out of sight from anyone passing. Twigs snap against their stomping shoes and branches slap him in the face.
Hawks is whirled around to face Dabi and immediately shoved into the trunk of a tree. His back hits it hard, knocking the wind out of him. A hot hand tears the glasses from his face, the muffs from his ears, and both are dropped unceremoniously into the dead foliage and slush.
And then they’re kissing.
Hawks chokes on a high, avian sound, startled. Dabi kissing him before a blowjob had definitely not been on his bingo card tonight.
Neither had the blowjob, but like.
Shocking.
It’s more ferocious than kissing, really. Less lips, more teeth. Vicious tongues and too-hard bites. He’s going to bruise at this rate.
And it’s good.
Dabi clutches the back of his hair and angles Hawks to press deeper against his mouth. The sting at his scalp sends a prickle down Hawks’ spine.
“Mmm.” He moans quietly, unable to hold it back. The fingers knotted into his curls yank again, holding him still, and Dabi breaks free to suck his jaw. And that’s—that’s really good.
Hawks’ mouth falls open with a shaky breath.
“You like it rough, Birdie?”
His mind is full of white noise. He can’t answer, he’s laser-focused on the hickey Dabi’s giving him and the thigh shoving between his own to spread his legs. It pushes hard into his sudden boner.
Dabi’s free hand runs down his torso. His fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt and almost burn. He untucks it with one quick motion and skates over Hawks’ bare abdomen, earning another embarrassing, chirpy sound.
“Answer me.” Dabi hisses suddenly against his neck. “So I know how to treat you.”
That same hand is now cupping Hawks’ hard-on through his pants. Maybe if he comes hard enough he’ll forget his own name and stop having to deal with all the BS in his life.
“Hawks.” Dabi growls, demanding attention. He wrenches hard on his hair again and tilts Hawks’ face forward to look at him.
Flushed, Hawks exhales sharply through the nose. Dabi’s eyes are an electric blue, almost a light source. They pierce through him.
“I’m a villain but I’m not a savage.” Dabi explains, voice raspy. “I’m only gonna fuck your throat if you want me to.”
Oh, wow. Hawks’ own eyes flutter closed. Is this a fantasy? Is he dreaming? Weird dream.
With all his strut and pomp, everybody thinks he wants to dominate. Nobody ever wants to bat him around the way he really likes.
“We don’t have all night, hero.” Dabi spits at him. Hawks’ heart skips when flecks of it hit his cheek. Please, yeah, spit on him. “Somebody’s always fucking looking for one of us, so make up your mind before I leave you here to rub one out alone.”
“I—yeah.” Hawks answers finally, quickly, cracking his lids. His chest expands and contracts. “I want that. Yeah.”
Dabi smirks. His scarred chin dimples and his eyebrows raise.
Sort of sexy.
“Look at you.” He snickers. “You’re falling apart from a little heavy petting. Who knew big bad Hawks was such a bitch?”
Heat licks up Hawks’ back, curls around to pool in his stomach. Desire tears through him in a flash. Fuck, why does he like that so much?
“Get on your knees for me.” Dabi says, but doesn’t give Hawks the chance to move himself. His hair is jerked downward in an iron grip, forcing Hawks to kneel.
“Ah.” Hawks gasps, sliding into position. His knees mash into the cold ground, his wings bunch up uncomfortably against the bark of the tree.
And he’s so hard it hurts. Shit.
Dabi releases his hair but keeps him in place with a shin to the chest. He could crack his sternum, if he wanted to. Break him open. Hawks buzzes, watches with rapt attention as the man over him unbuttons his pants and pulls down his zipper. He’s hypnotized. Dabi could kill him right now and Hawks would probably just come.
In the next motion, Dabi shoves his pants and underwear to his pale thighs and frees his dick. Fuck. He’s gorgeous, and big. Hawks almost whimpers.
A hot left hand snares into Hawks’ hair again, tight at the roots near his hairline. The sear reminds him of the makeup team getting a curling iron too close to his scalp. It’s tantalizing. It’s crazy juxtaposition against the freezing cold of the air. With his right hand, Dabi holds his cock at the base and juts forward to rub the tip against Hawks’ chin.
It’s wet, it’s warm, it makes Hawks shiver. Precum dots his bottom lip and Hawks’ tongue pokes out to chase it. God. He touches himself through the tent of his pants. It feels fantastic. Behind him, Hawks’ squished wings flap uselessly.
“Finally got that sassy mouth to shut up, didn’t I?” Dabi grumbles. He presses forward, sloppily painting Hawks’ face like it’s a damn tube of lipstick. It’s like lightning on his skin. All sharp and zinging.
Hawks whines, squeezes his eyes closed. He opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue like a slut because it’s been way too long since he got laid and this is fulfilling some kind of fucked-up pipe dream. Everyone’s always ordering him around, might as well let it bleed into the bedroom. He might as well do a good job, like he’s always told to.
Dabi lets out a small grunt, like he likes that.
“Who knew you were such a pretty bird?” He hums, and Hawks preens. The praise sends molten lava to bubble in his pelvis. “You wanna swallow my dick, Hawks?”
Shit. He sure fucking does. Hawks’ toes curl in his leather boots. His knees are starting to ache from the ground but he tips his head back as an invitation, pants obscenely. His garbage night is really turning around.
Dabi lets go of his hair to slide down to his jaw. His scarred hand glues to it, fastens Hawks into a good position. His warm thumb presses into the corner of Hawks’ mouth and Hawks swears he sees a twinkle of blue. A stray flame, popping up haphazardly like Dabi can’t stop it. It’s quickly dashed.
“Lemme hear you say it.” He orders, stroking lazily over his dick. Expectantly.
Hawks grapples with his own fly and shoves one hand clumsily into his pants, breathing hard against the hold. His other hand aimlessly reaches forward, grips onto Dabi’s calf so he doesn’t drift away into space. His skin is a million degrees, grounding in the chill.
“Earth to Hawks?” Dabi urges, shoving a fiery thumb into his mouth. Hawks gasps around it.
“F-fuck, I do.” He groans, garbled, shuffling a palm into his own underwear. Hawks cringes at how fucking dry it is but he can’t even care. Feels amazing anyway. “Please.”
Dabi chuckles at him. He inches his cock forward again, slips out his thumb and replaces it with something way, way better. The wet sound is music to Hawks’ ears.
"Since you asked so politely, hero.” Dabi snarks. He manhandles Hawks by the shirt collar, eggs him on.
Hawks wastes no time. One first, tentative, lick and then he takes Dabi as far as he can go. He chokes at first impact, out of practice, and then bobs his head the best way he knows how. Rumbles at the feeling. It makes his eyes water.
“Ah—” Dabi breathes sharply in surprise. “Shit, you’re good, huh?”
Yes, he’s good. He can be better.
Dabi’s hips pick up, canting against Hawks’ face. He widens his jaw, lets Dabi slide in deeper. Hawks shifts his hands around to cup under Dabi’s ass cheeks, encourages him to go faster with minute pushes.
It’s so hot, holy shit. A funny trill purrs from Hawks’ chest but he doesn’t have the clarity to be embarrassed. Just means he’s really turned on.
“That’s cute, Birdie.” Dabi mumbles. His abs flutter, Hawks feels it against his nose. “Had no idea how much of a whore you are.”
“Mmm—,” Is all Hawks can exclaim. His fists his own cock again, overwhelmed. Dabi’s speed continually increases, and it’s a totally minor case of asphyxiation, but it’s enough for Hawks’ mind to cut off completely. All caution thrown to the fucking wind. He’ll do this all night.
“You like that?” Dabi mashes the heel of his hand into Hawks’ forehead suddenly. It doesn’t hurt, but Hawks gets knocked off his dick with a pop. He’s shoved further against the tree, back of his head colliding with the trunk. His wings scream at him, anxious at being so immobilized, but Hawks isn’t complaining.
“Like when I call you a whore?” Dabi teases. He breathes hard, like he was close. His scarred chest peeks through his jacket and Hawks lifts a hand to trace down it. Dabi’s muscles jump.
Hawks is close too, with spit dribbling down his cheek. He wipes it with the back of his hand and lathers it over himself to keep pumping. He nods without speaking, forgets how cold he was earlier. Everything’s cranked up, off the charts now. The snow near their feet steams. He tries not to arch his back.
“Good.” Dabi proclaims. “Finish me like one then.”
God damn.
Dabi surges forward again, leaning down to kiss him this time. Deft fingers play along Hawks’ throat, squeezing, releasing. His head spins. Dabi must taste himself in Hawks’ mouth and the thought of that makes Hawks squeak.
Both of Dabi’s hands clutch the front of his hair. Hawks coughs into the return of the blowjob but hollows his cheeks the second he recovers. Fuck, he’s gonna lose his voice tomorrow for this.
No regrets.
“That’s right.” Dabi murmurs. “Open up for me.”
It’s so hot, so hot, so hot. Literally, physically, mentally, sexually. Hawks actually squirms. His feathers crinkle the wrong direction. His jaw aches but it’s with satisfaction.
Dabi lets go of his bangs with one hand and without warning grasps the ridge of Hawks’ wing. Too tight, skims down the edge, furls his overheated fingers into the downy part of it. He fumbles lower to the base and tugs upward. Pins it back against the tree.
And Hawks comes. With a yell around the cock in his mouth.
“Ahhh—!” He shouts unintelligibly, blowing his load onto his khaki pants.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” spills from him, but it’s impossible to make out. Hawks goes slack, lets Dabi keep fucking him, tries to be as pliant as he can in the blur of the aftermath. Tremors roll through him, sky-high pleasure. Let the world hear him fucking chirping.
He wants to cry again, but, like, in such a good way.
“Shit, Birdie.” Dabi grunts. His eyebrows knit together as he takes in the sight below. His simmering fingers weave against Hawks’ feathers and another full-body shudder wracks through him. That’s usually a weird sex thing Hawks tries to hide, but, well, cards on the table now. Dabi figured it out all on his own.
“Fuck.” Dabi swears. He tips Hawks’ chin up, looks like he wants to lick the tears streaming down his face. Hawks has ascended, having an out of body experience, floating on a rainbow.
“Yeah. Choke on my cum, hero.” Dabi palms the back of his neck roughly. “Take it so good.”
His motions grow uneven, quick little jerks into the warmth of Hawks’ mouth. Three more snaps forward and Dabi comes down his throat with a strangled moan. Rocks against him until he’s finished, milking every last bit.
Hawks fights his gag reflex and swallows hard. If he knows how to do anything, it’s get the job fucking done.
Dabi stays still a few moments, soaking in the sensation, making Hawks feel so full. He pulls off slowly and urges Hawks to lick his work clean. Hawks appeases, doesn’t mind the salt. Adrenaline buzzes through him like the first time he tried flying. He’s still shaking.
Once he’s satisfied, Dabi zips himself back up. He wipes his hands on his shirt and smirks.
Hawks scrambles through the fog to find his decency again. Maybe it’s gone forever, though.
He puts his dick away and rubs a gloved hand over the mess on his pants. No fixing that. Still on the ground, he collects his glasses, his earmuffs, puts them both back in place. They’re both damp and cold from the snow.
Dabi watches the entire time with his arms crossed. Looks like he just won the lottery. Doesn’t offer to help when Hawks rises on unsteady legs.
“Huh.” Dabi finally says, tilting his head. Blue eyes glint in the dark. “Weird night.”
Hawks breathes deeply. Weird night for sure. Simultaneously one of the worst and best he’s had in months. He doesn’t really know what to say.
“Yeah.” Hawks sighs. He leans back against the christened tree, letting his wings flex wide. Feathers skewer every which way, but the stretch calms him. His heart rate’s still coming down from probably three-hundred beats-per-minute.
Dabi shrugs. “Anyway. See you around, hero.”
He turns on his heel, leaving Hawks to blink in confusion. Not that he expected—what, aftercare? But, maybe just more conversation, or something? Dabi’s not really the type though, he supposes. And Hawks is a big boy, he’ll be fine, even if his jaw falls off tomorrow. He lightly brushes over a sensitive spot near his ear. How many hickies can he hide?
Was this the worst idea he’s ever had? Maybe?
Probably not.
“Oh,” Dabi says, pausing. His jacket flaps in the sudden wind. It’s freezing again, now that Hawks’ main heat source has vanished. “Here you go. Since you couldn’t finish yours.”
Something small lobs over Dabi’s shoulder to land in the snow at Hawks’ feet. He squints down at it while the villain stalks away. Once he’s out of sight, Hawks reaches down.
It’s a little box, barely any weight to it. Hawks flicks open the cover curiously.
Ah.
A half-empty carton of cigarettes.
That’s…interesting.
Hawks’ feathers quiver in the breeze.