Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dabi shivered, pulling his overcoat around him a little tighter. He didn't get cold, useless body compensating for a quirk that never manifested, but the fact that he was sweating bullets told him it wasn't the weather. He was prone to getting sick, but it wasn't like he had a way of getting more than some aspirin on the streets, so he'd learned to ignore it for the most part over the years.

This though, his fucking heat. It hadn't bothered him in years, and he'd started to think that his body had finally gotten the hint about the fact that it was a useless husk with no need for attracting a mate. Shop closed, cobwebs, all that. But apparently he wasn't that lucky, because all of a sudden, he was in pre-heat and looking for a place to crash that was anywhere except with the League. Last he checked, they were still hanging around Dr. Creepy, and Dabi had no desire to find out what he'd do if he caught wind of the fact that he was a…"functioning" omega. He still didn't know what exactly the man had found out in the three years he'd been unconscious, and he was sure he didn't want to know at this point.

No, the League was too risky. He didn't want them asking questions. His second option wasn't much better, but at least Birdbrain already knew he was an omega.

He wasn't proud of it, okay? He'd tried to hide it, but Hawks was there and it wasn't like he was getting any other offers, especially from people who were— well, not nice, but not going to do anything Dabi didn't ask for. And even with his dysfunctional scent glands, it wasn't hard to figure out his designation once they were naked and hormone hazy in warehouse together after another rendezvous.

Truth was, Dabi liked pulling the bird's pigtails so to speak, and it had seemed like a harmless way to blow off some steam, while getting prettyboy Hawks to let his guard down and maybe let some things slip. But now, it seemed like a little fun had woken his body up, and sent signals that maybe its services were needed after all.

So, with one more pissed off thought that really, this was Hawks' own fault, he knocked on the window to his balcony.

He better be home, Dabi thought, clutching at his coat a little tighter.

Thankfully, it only took a minute or so before he heard the telltale sound of Hawks unlatching the window. He had to stifle a laugh at the muffled sound of the hero cursing as it stuck a moment.

"Hey, Birdie."

"Dabi?" Hawks asked, brow furrowed. "We didn't have a meeting tonight."

Dabi rolled his eyes. He did not have time for this. "Obviously. You gonna let me in?"

Hawks looked at him for a second, and Dabi kept his face neutral despite worrying that he was about to get dumped out on his ass. Finally, he sighed and moved so Dabi could scramble in.

He'd only been to Hawks' place a few times, mostly to prove that it was no good keeping secrets from him and that Dabi would get what he wanted anyway. It was as sparse as he'd remembered, beige furniture and white walls. A fitting facade for the man in front of him, all mask and no real personality.

Still, it wasn't like Dabi had the luxury of being choosy, so he made himself comfortable on the couch, deceptively casual for how shaky he'd felt on his feet clambering in.

Hawks shut the window and remained standing, looking down at him as he usually did, half annoyed, half curious. "By all means, make yourself at home."

Dabi shivered, this time half at the commanding tone and half at the implication. His dumb hindbrain wanted nothing more than to roll around on the couch, gather every pillow and blanket in the apartment and show Hawks exactly how at home he could be.

See how nice my nest is? Don't you want to come in with me? I can be good, I can make it so good for you.

He shook it off though. He was in control here. "Aww, see, when you talk like that you make a guy feel unwanted."

Hawks ran a hand through his hair. Dabi could see the muscles in his arms, the strip of stomach as his shirt rode up. He had to wet his lips as Hawks took his time before responding.

"What do you want, Dabi? You're lucky I was even home." His eyes narrowed a little, predator pupils turning to slits. "Is something wrong? You usually at least text first."

Dabi shrugged. "Told you. Can't I just want to stop by?"

Hawks tilted his head and Dabi could practically see as he shifted into hero mode. It was a testament to how far gone he was that he found it hot rather than irritating. "Told me what?" He looked Dabi over before raising his eyebrows. "Your pupils are crazy…shit, are you in heat?"

"Pre-heat, keep your pants on," Dabi mumbled. His brain helpfully supplied that it very much wanted Hawks' pants off, but he waved that thought away.

Hawks' eyes widened slightly, before his expression settled back into its neutral mask. "And you came here?"

"Where else would I go?" Dabi retorted, looking around. "You really think I'd be here if I had some nice nest somewhere? How charmingly naive of you."

"Fuck" Hawks mumbled under his breath. "You need— I don't have anything for helping with heats."

Dabi chuckled. "No? And here I thought you were supposed to be Japan's most eligible." It's not jealousy that stokes his words. Not Dabi's omega imagining Hawks wrapped up in some long line of bimbos flaunting everything they could give him that Dabi couldn't.

"You can— fuck. I have some extra sheets and blankets you can use. Take my room, I'll stay on the couch." Hawks was already digging through a closet, feathers flying every which way as they gathered the supplies Hawks thought he needed. His back stayed to Dabi, and anger flared in his chest at being ignored. Here he was, practically gift-wrapping himself for the hero and he wanted to talk about extra sheets, like he couldn't wait to throw them out the second Dabi was done with them, like his scent would sully them.

A whine left his throat and it seemed to jolt Hawks out of what he was doing. "Don't want your leftovers," Dabi ground out. "Or your pity."

"You're the one that came to me," Hawks said, turning to look at him over his shoulder. "You really wanna argue? Right now?"

"Want you to fuck me," he said, half because it was true and half because of the beautiful look on Hawks' face.

The other man blinked, eyes wide and wings fluttering nervously. Dabi was pretty sure he watched a feather that had been gathering materials careen itself into the wall. "That…is a very bad idea."

"Like it wasn't a bad idea the first fifteen times?" Dabi said, letting his legs spread a little more.

Hawks' eyes darted down to the sight before he forced them back to Dabi's face. "You know what I mean," he said, face taking on a rare softer set. "I'm not taking advantage of you."

He should have guessed Hawks would be all good and noble about this. He had no problem shoving Dabi to his knees so hard he felt it for days, yet he didn't trust Dabi to know his own mind well enough to ask for what he wanted.

"I'm fine, Birdie. You think, what, fifteen percent of the population just stops being able to function for a third of the year?" He moved to stand, ignoring how wobbly it made him. "You don't want me, I'll figure something else out."

He felt feathers grab at his shoulders and elbows, a surprisingly strong grip. "I'd ask if you get off on being difficult, but I know the answer to that already. Just…sit down."

Dabi returned to his position, smirking in triumph. "You gonna help me, then?"

"Yeah. I'll help you." He dragged a tired hand over his face, though he was more with it then he acted, as the feathers zipping around moving things made evident.

Dabi shifted down into the couch. "Don't gotta make it sound like a charity mission."

"Is there anything you won't complain about?"

"Not really." He grinned again. "I'm always up to be proven wrong though. Think you got in in you, hero?"

Hawks made his way over to the couch quickly, leading Dabi to blink sleepily up at him. He was lifted into his arms before he could protest the treatment.

Not that he wanted to. His omega wanted nothing more than to nuzzle into the scent glands he was so close to now. Hawks was strong in addition to being pretty.

Hawks' gaze flickered as he glanced down at him, hand wavering before he flicked hair from Dabi's overheated forehead. "You're sure about this?"

"You gonna make me beg?"

Hawks groaned, moving them into his bedroom. "I'm trying to be nice."

Dabi looked around. Besides the mountain of soft looking things Hawks' feathers had sent in, it was pretty bare. Functional. Nothing to betray the kind of person that lived here.

It made Dabi's omega, which needed home and comfort, itch.

Hawks set him down gently enough to make his teeth ache, too close to what he couldn't have. Set in his course, he ignored Hawks' complaining and his own stupid feelings in favor of beginning to arrange the items. He snarled at how scentless the extra blankets were and started pawing through the used pillows and blankets to start covering the new items with Hawks' and his own scent.

"I didn't know building a nest was this violent," Hawks said, leaning against the wall with a vaguely alarmed expression.

"You ever seen birds? I mean real ones," he said with a toothy grin, sitting back on his heels. "They can really tear each other apart during mating season."

Hawks' eyes narrowed, though he didn't seem genuinely offended. He stayed back, not getting in the way of Dabi's machinations.

After a few minutes, he was able to sit back and feel, if not happy, then at least satisfied with the makeshift nest. Still, something felt unsettled, and he let out a frustrated whine as he tried to figure it out. Once he did, though, his gaze snapped to Hawks.

"Shirt. Off."

Hawks chuckled, though he obediently reached down to peel it off. "That eager?"

Dabi rolled his eyes. "You wish. Need it for the nest. Don't throw it on the floor!" He grabbed it out of Hawks' grip and settled it carefully around a pillow he had scented. He noted with smug satisfaction that Hawks would need to wash everything he owned and Dabi's scent would probably still linger in the space.

Looking up, he noticed Hawks staring at him, eyes trailing over him like his body had finally gotten with the program and realized there was a willing omega in (almost) heat in front of him and Dabi licked his lips when he saw how his fangs were starting to peek out. He could feel more of his own scent flare out and clearly Hawks could sense it, because he kneeled on the bed to join Dabi, hand shaky as he cupped his elbows.

"You're sure about this?"

Dabi swallowed to try and speak through his dry throat. "You know better than to do something dumb like mate me. Other than that, you don't scare me, Birdie."

"What about—" The feathers Hawks hadn't bothered to discard quivered lightly. "There's more to worry about than that."

Dabi flinched a little inwardly, shutting down memories racing through his mind. "Not something to worry about," Dabi said simply, trailing one hand down over the scarring wrapped around his midsection.

Hawks seemed to take that admission in stride, but his hands tensed on his arms, talons digging in with the force of holding himself back.

Dabi shivered at the feeling and wrapped his own hands around Hawks'. "Come on," he rasped. "You already know what to do."

Dragging their hands lower, he watched Hawks swallow before finally, finally pitching forward to bring their lips together, pushing them down into the nest and sending Dabi's thoughts into sweet oblivion with them.

—

It was still dark when Dabi cracked his eyes open hours later, though he could see the first edges of sunrise starting to lighten the sky. At his left, Hawks slept, face creased against the pillow, one arm thrown across Dabi, a leftover from the past few hours.

He peeled his arm away, sitting up and letting the blankets pool around his waist. Now that the wave had passed, he felt cold again, this time from the sweat cooling on his remaining healthy skin. He let his arms rest on his knees, curled into his chest as thoughts swirled around him.

In the haze of last night, Hawks had really seemed like the best option. But now that he'd worked it out, and the buzzing under his skin had stopped, he worried the hero was too good of an option. Normally, things between them were quick, angry, a little mean. But here, he could still feel the phantom touch of Hawks' hands on his hips, the way his fingers had traced around his scars, the ghost of his lips on his back, following his instructions and staying away from his neck, ruined glands or no.

He'd had every option to see the red flags and run, but then, when had he ever done what was good for him?

It fit, somehow, that he didn't care about all the times Hawks had fisted his hands in Dabi's hair and pulled, the times they had bruised and pushed and bit, but this, gentle hands and kisses, had his mind scrambling.

He didn't want to think about what would happen when Hawks woke up. Dabi didn't know whether his heat would flare again—his fucked up body was unpredictable like that. Would Hawks expect another round anyway?

No— he was a liar and a fake, but he wasn't cruel like that. He would probably do something worse, like ask Dabi how he was feeling, play hero and try to take care of him and Dabi didn't think— like this, he would say yes, and that would fuck up every single thing he's been working toward, what he's so close to achieving. He needed Hawks close, but not that kind of close.

Besides. It wasn't like Dabi would exist in a few months anyway. If things progressed as fast as the Doctor said, a few months and they'd be ready to move. He only needed to keep the bird on a string a little longer.

No, he couldn't stay. Mercifully, his clothes were in the nest, so it was easy to slip them on and ignore the way something in him settled at Hawks' scent still lingering on them. He didn't look back as he left the room, out the window the same way he came, back onto the street, leaving Hawks in the broken nest.

His head cleared as soon as he was tucked away in the familiar alleyways, away from the mixed scents and the domesticity. It was still too early for the streets to fill, so he was able to take his time walking and coming back to himself.

Distantly, he wondered about whether he should find a morning after pill, just in case the universe needed one last laugh from him, but he didn't have the money, and stealing it was too risky at this point— he was too recognizable, and the collateral damage wasn't worth the trouble. He could always ask the doctor, but he wasn't entirely sure he would give it to him if he asked, and he didn't want to owe that fucker anything.

Besides, he knew nothing was likely to come of it. The last time…well, he knew his body was held together mostly by spite and very dubious medical experimentation. His insides were probably just as rotted as the rest of him. The last time, whatever cells had taken root had evacuated themselves as quickly as they'd appeared. Dabi hadn't even known anything was different until he was bleeding in a bathroom and they— it— was already gone.

After that, he hadn't had a heat and Dabi assumed that meant the coffin of his…womb had finally cemented itself shut. All for the better.

Before long, the sun had started coming up in earnest, and with it, the city yawned and started exhibiting signs of life. And so, Dabi went out, taking the fire escapes until he reached the roof of a nearby building, where people weren't going to bother looking for at least a while. He needed to keep moving soon, maybe make his way back to some of the new recruits he'd been scouting, but for now no one needed him.

He could look across the city from the bird's view, imagining if this is what he saw when he looked at the city from this angle.

Chapter Text

The sky on the horizon was fuzzy, a haze of purple and black as Hawks struggled to keep his eyes open. Someone was talking above him, but his ears were ringing too loudly to make out anything clear.

He allowed his head to loll to the side, instincts kicking in hard enough to at least let him scramble for an exit. The pool of blood at his side wasn't an encouraging sight.

Kicking his legs out, he tried to wiggle away. If he could just get a little further, someone would see him and he could get to help…maybe Tokoyami and Dark Shadow would be high enough to spot him.

"No, no Birdie, stop that," a voice broke through the noise, and Hawks groaned, a garbled noise as he tried to answer, but the blood was bubbling in his mouth and his lungs refused to cooperate.

He felt himself being tugged by his foot and couldn't help the startled cry that burst out of him as he was yanked back harshly.

"I'll just put you in here until I'm done, okay? I just need to kill a few more of your friends and then I'll come back for ya. Can't have you dying on me before the good stuff!"

A few more agonizing seconds passed before Hawks was unceremoniously dumped inside the room where he'd fought Twice.

Twice…

He didn't get to linger on that thought before his head was wrenched up violently, fingers digging into his chin as met blue eyes.

"Look at me, Birdie. Don't close your eyes yet. I've got some stuff to do, but you're gonna stay here, and everything is going to be fine. It's all gonna work out the way we planned."

Hawks had no clue what the fuck Dabi was talking about, but he was unable to do anything except nod his head until he dropped his hand, grinning widely.

"Good job! Knew you were strong." He dusted himself off, even though the only thing staining his overcoat was sticky blood that wouldn't budge. "I've gotta go pay dear old Dad a visit. Wish me luck!"

Hawks watched him go, slumped against the wall. At least this way he would die sitting up, even if the twin wounds on his back screamed from the pressure. He didn't have it in him to keep his head up anymore, so he let it fall back against the wall as his eyes fluttered shut.

Even as he let oblivion take him, he heard the screams echo in the distance, oblivious to his own name among them.

—

Hawks woke groggily, head pulsing behind his eyes. His vision swam and he closed them again, hoping not to throw up as he fought the sensory onslaught. Slowly this time, he cracked one eye open, then the other, looking at the ground rather than up. His stomach still rolled, but he was able to keep his wits about him a little more easily.

Despite the pain, his instincts kicked in, and he locked the pain away so he could take in his surroundings. The room around him was sparse. Nothing marked the walls, and there were no windows to speak of which could have given him a hint to where he was. He moved to send some feathers out to investigate, only for his back to burst into red-hot pain.

His body tried to scream, but all that came out was a hoarse wheeze, accompanied with its own share of pain, this one sharp and nettling like he'd swallowed glass. He locked all of his muscles as he moved back into a laying position, before slowly releasing each muscle group in isolation.

Okay, he decided once he could breathe again. More important than his surroundings was figuring out what state his body was in. With trembling fingers, he moved his hand up to his throat first, meeting rough bandages instead of skin. Tracing them up, his fingers came away wet with blood, though whether that was from tearing something in his throat or biting his own lip he wasn't entirely sure.

There were more bandages around the crown of his skull, though touching there was more bruiselike than anything. It was tricky to observe his torso when he couldn't lay on his back, so he used his hands to crawl back up, thankful for once that his talons hadn't been filed down recently to make up for the lack of muscle strength in his hands. A quick glance down revealed yet more bandages all across his stomach and chest, which he expected.

He already knew what he would find once he moved to his back, but being prepared didn't stop the ice cold dread from filling his lungs as he confirmed what his body was telling him.

His wings were gone, burnt up stumps pushing feebly against where they'd been wrapped up.

Painfully, slowly, he willed his lungs to take in one shallow breath, than another. The lungs were a muscle, so they could be tricked and calmed down and Hawks was not safe here— he couldn't let his emotions get the best of him. He could afford to break down about his wings (his wings) later. What he couldn't afford was all this uncertainty, not knowing where he was or how he'd gotten here. Being injured was no surprise, but the fact that he was alive was. In the state he was in right now, if he had been left alone, he would be dead. So why hadn't they let him? Who was willing to injure him this badly, only to patch him up once he was unconscious?

He wracked his memory, trying to sort through the chaos of the battle. He remembered…he remembered ambushing the PLF. He remembered Twice, though he almost wished he didn't.

He remembered Dabi, and burning, screaming pain, a name shared triumphantly. Todoroki Touya.

It was after that when things got blurry. Dabi had stared at him with his eyes wide and manic grin even wider. He had burned away Hawks' wings like it was nothing. If Dabi had wanted him dead, he would be.

So who had wrapped his injuries? Burns like the ones Hawks suffered left lasting damage— Dabi of all people would know that— so why hadn't he let his flames finish the job? Or had someone else collected him and brought him here? Did the PLF even have a medic? He had been in all these meetings, but he'd never had cause to learn that much about the aftermath, assuming arrogantly to be on the other side when it happened.

The next obvious track was to start moving towards escape, but whoever had brought him here had taken pains, and there seemed to only be one clear route, and he had no doubt that he was being guarded heavily.

The real question was why?

While he doubted he would find the answers he was looking for, he didn't have to wait long to at least see who was guarding him.

Part of him was grateful to see it was Spinner dispatched to check on him. Hawks wasn't close with him, but he knew Spinner to be one of the more level headed of the League, and though his loyalty to Shigaraki meant he wouldn't be easy to sway, he was less likely than Dabi, or worse, Toga, to kill him instantly.

Hawks could tell talking was going to hurt like a bitch though, so he waited Spinner out instead, attempting to look defiant rather than intimidated.

Spinner crouched down beside his bed. "You killed Twice."

Instead of answering, or placating, Hawks simply nodded. Let them call him a traitor, but he wasn't a liar. He would be held accountable, something the League members knew nothing about.

Instead of angry, Spinner just looked resigned. Or tired. Probably both. Another clue that things hadn't gone the way the PLF had expected, not entirely. "He trusted you. He was good. Is this really what heroes do? Dispense justice by stabbing a guy who's running away?"

"Had to," Hawks croaked out. There was more to say, of course, more swimming around his head, but his lungs wheezed and protested.

Spinner shook his head. "There is always a choice. That is what heroes like you can't understand. At least we have conviction. You just, what? Kill because they told you to? You knew us. Bubaigawara…" Spinner swallowed. "Dabi."

"He's— okay?" He shouldn't care, Dabi had burned him, but something inside him still wanted to know.

The look Spinner gave him was one shade shy of hateful. "I would worry more about yourself."

Hawks fought the warring impulses inside him. He needed to use this time to his advantage. If he could get Spinner to slip up, even a little, it could give him information to use later. On the other hand, it was difficult to ignore the emotions raging inside him.

He had liked Bubaigawara, he hadn't lied. Dabi was a more complicated case, but there was still— he'd saved him, hadn't he? He'd brought Hawks here, for one reason or another. Spinner sure as hell hadn't.

Painfuly, he tried to cobble his thoughts together into as few words as he could. "Why'm I alive?"

Spinner ran a hand over his neck. He didn't look unscathed by half, bandages over his biceps and peeking out of his shirt. He looked absolutely exhausted. "You'd have to ask Dabi. But no way in hell are we going to let that happen."

So it was Dabi. He could live a thousand lives and never be any closer to decoding whatever passed for a thought process in that fucked up head.

Sensing Hawks wasn't willing or able to say any more, Spinner moved to leave. But first, he fixed him with a hard look. "You know, we would have given you more than the heroes could." He paused to look over the bandages where his wings would have been. "They'd throw you out the second you weren't useful."

Hawks fixes him with a hard stare of his own. He fought through the burn in his throat to say, "Does it really matter if we're both being used? I'd think about who you're answering to."

Instead of taking the bait, Spinner just looked at him with pity. "If it doesn't matter, than at least I know I made the choice."

Hawks watched him leave, managing to wait until he heard a door shut before gasping at the pain in his throat from the exertion, spitting some blood out over the side of the bed. He'd always been told running his mouth would be his downfall.

Still, as much as Spinner wanted to believe he'd left in triumph, he'd given up some valuable information. His anger meant he'd given up that it really was Dabi who'd kept him alive, which meant that at least for now, the rest of the League wouldn't kill him without risking Dabi's wrath. They'd always been more interested in letting individuals settle petty grudges than working as a unit. What Spinner called "freedom" made them disjointed, more concerned with individual whims than a true ideology. Even with the PLF, the League was full of wildcards.

Secondly, while things hadn't looked good by the time Hawks was taken off the board, Spinner's look wasn't one of a man whose worries were gone. The heroes hadn't lost. Hawks might not know exactly what happened with Shigaraki, but the League was on the run again.

And even if it was only because he was useful, he knew that if the heroes were still out there, they would be looking for him. He would hold onto that, even if it was by his fingertips.

Chapter Text

"He's awake," Spinner said once he left Hawks' room, face an unreadable thundercloud as usual.

Dabi looked up from his current position shoved into a corner of the room, shabby pillows at his back. He smirked slightly, twirling a coin he'd found on the floor between his fingers idly. "Oh good. I didn't want the birdie bowing out too early. Hate when a character dies off in the first act."

Spinner sent him an unimpressed look. "I'm glad this is funny to you."

Dabi shrugged. "What's the saying? If I don't laugh, I'll cry?"

Spinner sighed again and sat on a crate in the other corner of the room. "Explain to me again why we are wasting resources keeping him alive when he was selling us out to the heroes the entire time?"

Dabi pat low on his stomach. There wasn't a bump there yet— he was only four months and his body hadn't fully gotten the memo— but that didn't mean Dabi wasn't going to use the only trump card he had. "I've got it under control. He'll change his mind."

"Forgive me for being skeptical," Spinner said dryly.

"Where's your optimism?" Dabi asked, voice dripping with contempt.

"I think I left it somewhere in Kyoto."

Dabi laughed, without any true mirth in it. Optimism wasn't something he believed in either, but it was dear Hawks' bread and butter, and wouldn't it be so satisfying to pull that from him too? See, Dabi knew Hawks, knew that his fall from grace could be so perfect, if he could just let it happen. Without all that shiny hero bullshit pushed on him, on them both, he would see how much sweeter freedom tasted.

But, he supposed, Dabi's own view of the future had changed of late. Because of the bird, and his stupid pheromones, and the stupid way he had let Dabi plead his way into his bed. The way he had taken Dabi at his word about the possibility of a baby. Why hadn't he pushed? Why did he trust everyone so easily? He was supposed to be super spy, why hadn't he asked a single question?

The point was, it wasn't love or anything earth-shattering as that. Dabi's capacity for caring had died out with his nerve endings. It was just chemistry and as hard as he'd wished for the needy, pathetic omega in him to die with Touya, it hadn't, and when it became too loud to bear, Hawks was its favorite flavor. Dabi had given in to a moment of weakness, and now he was paying for it. Was it so wrong to use the situation to his advantage?

Spinner regarded him warily. "You know, it's not too late to-"

"No," Dabi snapped at him, pointing a finger in warning. "I'm telling you, this is gonna work. Hawks isn't going to be able to abandon his own kid."

"And you're positive he'll believe you?"

"You callin' me a whore?"

Spinner frowned. "I'm calling you annoying," he muttered, but continued. "I'm saying, while we know it's true, what is stopping him from just denying it?"

Because he wants it to be true, Dabi thought to himself. Deep in his gut, he knew that Hawks wanted a family. He wouldn't give that up.

"He'll remember."

He knew that Hawks had that half heat they'd shared seared into his brain the same as Dabi. All the shit that Hawks had whispered in his ear still rattled around in his skull. Even if it wasn't real, they'd both been too pheromone drunk and stupid for it not to be true.

"Could take good care of you, promise."

"Yeah?" Dabi panted. "Keep me locked away in your pretty cage?"

Hawks shook his head against Dabi's shoulder, his too long, sweat lank bangs dragging across the spot. "No. Not locked up, just safe, with me."

There was no such thing as safe for people like Dabi, or Hawks, just survival until something finally wiped them off the map, but he indulged him for now.

"That a promise, hero?" Dabi mocked, breathy from Hawks' movement. "There's a war coming if you hadn't noticed."

"Trust me," he said. "I can- can make us disappear."

Dabi hummed and curled his legs tighter around Hawks so he could whisper in his ear. "I'll believe it when I see it."

His hand drifted to his stomach again and Spinner let out a resigned sigh. "We are barely holding it together as it is. Compress is captured, Toga's missing, Twice is-"

"Dead," Dabi finished for him.

"Dead because of the spy you are trying to play house with! You're lucky Toga isn't here. When she finds out what you're doing-"

"Toga is a fucking kid. If she wants to start something with me, she can feel free."

"Shigaraki isn't in a position to make any decisions right now. But you're going to have to answer to him eventually."

Dabi scoffed and sank deeper into the corner. "I really don't think he's in charge of jack shit right now. The PLF cut and ran. Jailbreakers should buy us some time, but we're back where we were before all this." He sneered, spreading his arms wide. "And once again, who here has bagged us someone useful against the heroes? Not Shigaraki! Who has the heroes' reputation on the ropes? Me!"

"We would be dead without him," Spinner said, deadly serious.

"You don't know that," Dabi sing-songed.

Spinner looked at Dabi the way he always did, like he was caught between pity and contempt. The former curdled in Dabi's stomach, while the latter simmered. "If you're determined to do this, you're going to need our help eventually. You can't have a baby and be on the run from heroes and All for One on your own."

"Watch me," Dabi said, with more venom and conviction than he actually felt.

With one more withering look, Spinner stood and headed toward where Shigaraki was recovering. "I'll let you know when Hawks is talking. And no, you can't see him before then."

Dabi sighed as he left the room, finally leaning into the wave of nausea cresting over him. He kept his bile in, but coughed wetly, rattling his fire worn lungs so hard his vision crackled for a moment. Once he came back to himself, he sank down the wall until he was laying more than sitting.

The anger he'd put on for Spinner evaporated and was replaced with the fatigue that had been his constant companion for the past month. He had written off the headaches and the snappishness as stress— no one had ever claimed Dabi was emotionally stable, least of all himself— but once he started throwing up, it didn't take long to see the writing on the wall.

After all, it wasn't like this was the first time.

"I get it, you're pissed off at me," he said absently to his stomach. It felt ironic— he wasn't eating enough to have much other than stomach acid to upchuck, but the kid still found it in them to riot. His damn kid all right.

It was easier to be angry. Anger fit like a glove, a tailored piece of the well worn coat that made up Dabi. Anger had kept him shambling on, one foot in front of the other for eight years. But once he'd figured it out, he hadn't been angry.

He'd felt powerful.

This was his. His choice to make, his bargaining chip, his— his fucking kid. So, stupid or not, suicidal or not, no one and nothing else was going to tell him what to do.

And, even better, this was Hawks' kid as much as his. Let the hero think he had the upper hand the whole time. He'd been stupid, and slipped up, and Dabi could expose him for the hypocrite that he was.

He would probably let Dabi too. Easy mark, his pretty bird.

It was enough to almost make him want to see his face. But it wouldn't be satisfying until the songbird had his voice back. And Dabi was patient.

—

A month passed while Dabi waited for Hawks to get better, and Spinner waited for Shigaraki to be conscious for more than an hour a day and it was so boring that Dabi had half a mind to set the place on fire just to do something.

He spent his days either vomiting up what feels like his internal organs, or pacing around like a tiger until his body complained enough to make him sit, begging for sleep in the form of a nap. Dabi was good at biding his time, but this was torture, playing a waiting game until they could move.

There was at least a little interest introduced when Toga made her way back to them. She was quieter than Dabi had ever known her, sullen instead of manic. He didn't know if it was Twice or her own personal shit making her this way, but Dabi didn't have it in him to make her feel better. He had his own shit going on.

Still, he thought to himself, if he was going to have a kid, he might as well practice flexing whatever parental instinct he might have inside him. If his parents were anything to go by, it wasn't much, but spite was a strong motivator and even if the bar was in hell, he would be better than Enji.

Spinner beat him to it though, speaking up one day as the three of them killed time in the main room as always. "Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked Toga, voice kind in a way Dabi didn't think he could manage if he tried.

Toga shrugged. "It was what I expected."

Spinner nodded. "I'm sorry they couldn't understand. But I am glad you came back."

Toga sniffed and looked away, staring at a point on the wall for so long Dabi was tempted to check what she was looking at. "All I want is to live in a way that makes sense to me. That was what Jin-kun wanted too. And heroes killed him for it." She turned to glare at Dabi. "And you kept him alive."

He wasn't interested in indulging whatever teenage histrionics Toga was gearing up for, so he fixed her with a warning look. "Yeah. I did. Which means you don't fucking touch him."

Okay, so that was more angry older brother than budding parent.

The look Toga gave him was more sad than murderous, but she hefted herself up on the crate next to his and looked down with the imperiousness only a seventeen year old could master. "Why do you get to have all the fun?"

"It's not about fun," Dabi protested. "Nothing about this is fun. It's about getting the upper hand. I'm gonna get the bird on our side for real this time, which is better revenge than just killing him." Kid aside, imagining the look on Endeavor's face when Dabi paraded out a turncloak Hawks was beautiful in its own right.

"No it isn't," Toga protested. She looked at Spinner for backup. "None of that gets me closer to what I want."

"Well maybe it isn't all about you, pipsqueak," Dabi retorted.

"Cut it out," Spinner said, finally getting between them. "Neither of you are helping at all right now. Toga, come help me out over here and I'll tell you what you missed. Dabi— the boss is awake and wants to talk to you anyway."

"Joy of joys," he said, wincing as he stood. He hadn't started really showing yet, but his hips had started sliding out of their joints every so often, a side effect of the deep tissue damage from his burn. He refused to show how much pain he was in though, merely sending a sarcastic salute to Spinner and a smirk to Toga, who stuck her tongue out at him before stomping off.

Well. Time to pay the piper, he supposed.

—

When Dabi entered the room, Shigaraki was indeed sitting up, though he thought awake was quite a generous assessment for Spinner to make. His eyes had always been beady and red, but now they just seemed gaunt, empty, like a pool of white with the tiniest hint of iris. His entire torso was wrapped, his arms and legs propped up like puppet limbs.

"You look like shit," Dabi supplied helpfully.

Shigaraki takes a long time to take a labored breath, before delivering a surprisingly withering glare for someone who looked one step up from a corpse. Dabi would know. "Fuck you."

"And already back to your cheery self."

One bony finger raised up to flip him off and Dabi grinned to himself as he sat in the chair he assumed Spinner had been practically living in for the past month.

Shigaraki didn't bother turning his head, or maybe he couldn't. "Spinner said we have a stowaway."

Dabi shrugged. "I prefer the term hostage, but sure."

"I don't have time to watch over your pet bird, Dabi. Or is it Touya now?"

"Call me what you want. It doesn't matter." He didn't comment on the Hawks problem yet. He wanted to wait until he knew more about Shigaraki's state of mind first.

"If you would have told me, we could have helped you."

"I didn't need help," Dabi said. "Clearly, considering I accomplished what I wanted to. The pieces fall into place." He brought his hands behind his head, the very picture of satisfaction.

Shigaraki's eyes fell to where Dabi's shirt rode up, exposing the subtle swell of his lower belly. "So this was part of the plan then?"

"No. But it's useful."

Another skeptical glance was thrown his way. "How is a baby in an active war zone a useful item equip?"

Ignoring the fact that Shigaraki had just referred to his unborn kid as an item, Dabi crossed his arms. "It gets Hawks on our side. For real this time."

A mean smile. "Forgive me for remaining unconvinced. Your word only means as much to me as your actions. And from what I can tell, your actions lost me a very valuable player, and gained me a pretty shit problem."

Dabi was used to dealing with fuckers like this by blasting them with fire, but this is Shigaraki. Despite Dabi's obvious and sundry issues with authority, he didn't actually want him dead. Partially because he was the fastest route to Endeavor dead, but also because he was the only route to a world where his kid had a shot with a parent like him.

"I was using the wrong tactics last time."

Shigaraki snorted. "You mean corpse skin graft pussy wasn't enough to seal the deal?"

Dabi very charitably ignored his obvious needling. "I know he doesn't give a shit about me. And I couldn't care less about the bird. But I know shit about him. I know about his fucked up family. So I know that he won't leave his kid out to dry." He knew it because the kinds of broken homes the two of them came from meant that he would rather be dead than know his kid was out there, struggling, and ignore it.

"The last thing we need is a fucking hero leak right now," Shigaraki said, biting at his already bleeding lip. "We have no allies, and none of us are at full strength. You're putting yourself out of commission for who knows how long—"

"Four months. Give or take a few weeks."

"Holy fuck," Shigaraki groaned, letting his head loll back against the wall. "Dabi, what the fuck are we going to do with a baby in four months?"

Dabi tapped his foot impatiently. He didn't know, okay? The baby was less important than what it symbolized— a reason for Hawks to stay and help. He would figure out the actual baby part when it got here.

"Well, hopefully we won't still be living in this shit hole in four months."

"Yeah, because in all likelihood we will be fucking dead," Shigaraki croaked. "Dabi. The jailbreaks we did bought us maybe three months. Maybe." He held his hand up as Dabi started protesting. "I'm not worried about the heroes. I know we can handle them. What worries me is that Sensei knows how to find me. Even still locked up in Tartarus, he invaded my brain. Even now, I can—" He shook his head, like trying to ward off persistent bees. "He is going to use everything in his arsenal to find me and I can't move 80% of my body. And it sounds like every word you've said just highlights how we're fucked in ways I hadn't even imagined possible."

Dabi frowned. He hated that in the last few months Shigaraki had become something approaching reasonable. It was easier when he was just another whiny brat that Dabi could use or ignore. "Hawks is smart," he said slowly, "and persistent. He knows shit about both sides. He can help us figure out a plan. With more resources." Dabi definitely didn't want to deal with any heroes, but he wouldn't mind stealing from them for his own benefit.

"If you can even convince him to. Spinner said you burned his wings off? If you wanted him to stick around so much, maybe almost killing him was a poor strategy?"

Dabi didn't have an answer to that besides that he was angry— about Twice and how Hawks had messed up his plan— but also about how he had landed Dabi in this situation in the first place. If he had never found out about this baby, he could have forged on, uncaring of what would happen to him. None of it would have mattered. It was so simple.

But now, things were complicated. He had to include other people in his future. He had to care, all because the dumb bird had managed to find the one thing capable of jolting Dabi out of his one track mind.

"Wasn't gonna kill him. Got him here, didn't it?"

Shigaraki looked both unimpressed and unconvinced, though that could just as easily be his injuries obscuring any expression. "If Spinner says he's talking, I'll allow it. Be smart when you talk to him. No temper tantrums."

Dabi chafed at being "allowed" to do anything. This was his strategy, his win. But he also knew that he was fighting an uphill battle, and he needed to be smart.

Still, it would be a cold day in hell before he thanked Shigaraki for it, so he merely nodded.

"You better know what you're doing," Shigaraki said, as Dabi moved to depart.

Dabi smirked and tapped his temple. "I always do. Long game is my specialty."

Now, he just had a bird to convince of his logic.

Chapter Text

Time floated and blurred for Hawks. At first, he mostly slept, with pain keeping him from perceiving much, the difference between sleep and wakefulness tenuous. However, eventually he made it to a point where he was conscious more often than not, which meant he could take stock of where Dabi had dragged him off to and where the League was holding him.

The room was small, sparse, but not barren. Aside from the relative comfort of the mansion, all his dealings with Dabi had been in industrial warehouses, abandoned and cold. This wasn't that austere— there was artwork on the wall, a clock on a nightstand, though the electricity seemed faulty, which told him that the power grid was intermittent, and that energy was probably being siphoned some other way. The gray-blue paint was chipped along the trim, and the windows had been shoddily blacked out.

Someone's guest room, haphazardly picked cleaned and abandoned in the confusion. Because heroes had failed. Hawks had failed.

His hand hurt when he clenched his fists against the sheets, but the pain helped to clear his head. They clearly didn't want hin to know what the world looked like outside, but Hawks' imagination was enough to send him spiraling. He was optimistic to a fault, but even his resolve was no match for the listlessness of staring at these dull walls day in and day out, not being able to help, stuck in a bed with only a broken clock to mock him.

In the absence of other options, he started to mark time in his own way. He could tell they weren't bringing him food every day, or at least not on a consistent schedule, though whether that was spite or lack of resources was anyone's guess. It was fine--he had been spoiled in the last few years, but it wasn't like he was unused to going without food. The Commission had learned early on that food was an easy way to train a starving kid, and he had needed to get it under control. Who knew when a mission would make it so he'd need to go without a few days? He wouldn't break for something so trivial.

The lack of windows made it difficult to distinguish between day and night as well. That he understood as a method to make people break. Hawks could stay awake for days, but without anything to mark it, it felt like an endless stretch, one long hellish day that never ended. And so, Hawks resorted to the one method he had at his disposal— his wings.

It was slow going and less than comfortable, at turns painful and itching, but they were beginning to grow back. It started with the downy baby feathers, practically just molting fodder, but it eventually gave way to the beginnings of some primaries. He could feel them, twitching and settling at his back, and he felt himself shaking out the tension there, a muscle that hadn't been used in too long.

Still, as elated he was to have them back in any capacity, he knew that the League wouldn't let him keep them if they knew they were growing back. It was a liability, and they knew Hawks was able to defend himself. He imagined the loss of them was the only reason he was alive.

That would also be their downfall though, because even though they had the foresight to keep Hawks secured when he wasn't being watched, even the smallest feathers were his to command, and when he was alone, he sent them soaring about, checking to see what the room held that he could use to his advantage. Most immediately helpful was the loose floorboard on one end of the room. There, he could hide the feathers away as they grew, amassing a subtle collection of them without giving away that they were growing back at all.

Other than that, it was a matter of biding his time. No one so far had spoken to him besides Spinner, who didn't give much away, aside from his perpetual state of exhaustion. That told him that things outside of Hawks' little room were not going as well as he pretended. If they hadn't moved, or abandoned him, Shigaraki was likely injured, badly.

But then, why hadn't All for One made a move? Wasn't he invested in his successor's recovery?

He would just need to be patient. Once he had enough feathers, bigger ones, he could manage to send some out and learn more. Unfortunately, patience was not a virtue that came easily to Hawks.

So, he waited. He sat, miserably, in this room with his pile of feathers and his questions, holding on to his sanity and optimism by the tips of his talons.

With little to do, his thoughts often drifted to Dabi. Why he'd saved him, why he'd burned him, how they'd gotten here.

Things between then had started out as tactical. He knew Dabi was suspicious of him, but he'd also seen the flare of interest in his eyes when Hawks flirted, the way his pupils dilated. Little things that Hawks' predator instincts were attuned to.

At first, that's all it was. If Hawks was getting used, why couldn't he use Dabi back? The Commission had told him to do whatever it took to gain the League's trust, and he knew from experience that meant anything was on the table. Hawks had stopped being precious about his body a long time ago. Despite his attitude, there was an alluring quality to Dabi's patchwork of scars and staples, and the stress of work had left him with a crazy amount of pent-up energy— he'd practically shredded a stack of paperwork one evening, led by too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

They were like that for a while. Pushing each other's buttons during the endless string of errands Dabi sent him on to prove his loyalty shifted to Hawks turning the tables on him, pinning him to the walls, the floor, any surface they could find. It was good, a way to feel like they were on equal ground after running around catering to whatever Dabi felt like making him do. A balm from chafing against the Commission's constant expectations.

But then, Dabi had shown up in the midst of pre-heat, trusting him? And he'd looked vulnerable and asked for his help and Hawks hadn't been strong enough to say no, not when he was like a gift-wrapped version of everything he'd been told he couldn't have. He wasn't allowed things like friends, or mates, but with Dabi, there was no risk of that. Dabi didn't want serious, so Hawks didn't have to pretend like it was his to give.

Of course, that hadn't stopped his instincts from losing it when he woke up to a ruined nest and Dabi gone. Why the fuck had he bothered showing up if he was just going to leave once his heat started? It felt like spite, the way he purposely plucked out every inch of the nest that was him. It had taken him almost an hour to calm down, something primal he thought had been ripped out crying out in panic.

And then, Dabi had acted like nothing happened when they saw each other again at the mansion, and so Hawks threw himself in with Twice and preparing and—

And now they were here.

With nothing else to do, these were the cheery thoughts that remained Hawks' companion as he recovered. So normal was his routine that he barely looked up when the door opened and shut, measured footsteps making their way to him and creaking against the floor. Spinner, again. Hawks wasn't really in the mood to talk today, so he leaned back against the pillows and didn't bother to look up, hoping the other man would take the hint and leave. Instead of retreating footsteps, though, he felt sinking as someone sat on the edge of the bed. Confused, Hawks turned his head, and hoped he controlled his expression at what he saw.

"Dabi?"

"Hey, pretty bird," the other man said, flashing a sharp grin without any actually joy behind it. "You look like shit."

Hawks took a moment to scan over Dabi. The most obvious change was the shock of bright white hair, no trace of the black mop he was used to. There were more pronounced scars too, the staples at his cheeks connecting to his eyes now. His hands too, were worse off than before.

He looked tired, Hawks thought to himself. Things must be as rough as he had imagined. Even as he was obviously here to gloat, his shoulders hunched, his overcoat looking even larger on his frame than usual.

"You don't look so hot yourself," Hawks spat back, wary of why Dabi had chosen now to come look at his prize. He wasn't afraid of Dabi. But he was unsettled by him and his unreadable expressions, his smiles that didn't reach his eyes. The way he moved so carefully, but too quickly.

Dabi laughed and shrugged. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about little old me." His eyes raked back over Hawks with a lazy tilt of the head. "Not grounded as you are."

Hawks' eyes narrowed. "I'm not worried. Just disappointed. Come back to look at your handiwork?"

"Disappointed you couldn't take two of us out with one shot, hero?"

Hawks' jaw tensed with the effort not to flinch. He wasn't going to give Dabi the satisfaction. "You and I both know that isn't how it happened."

"Do we both know that? You seem to think you know a lot of things."

Hawks was too tired to ignore Dabi's stupid mind games. Every conversation was an endless string of assumptions and double meanings, and Hawks had been in a box for at least a month, by the looks of his wings.

Dabi was playing with his food, it seemed. So, Hawks would play back. "Spinner said you're the reason I'm here and not dead on a battlefield. You wanna explain that?"

He tapped his foot, bringing one leg up to rest on the bed next to his chest. It was an oddly vulnerable position, but Dabi's posture was anything but soft. "Maybe I decided you were more fun alive."

Nothing about Dabi's words were making any sense. He was the scorched earth type, and Hawks remembered what he had looked like standing above him. Beneath the anger, there had been freedom, like he had nothing to lose. He'd told Hawks his true name, something he was sure he wouldn't have unless something had changed.

Irritated with being out of the loop, Hawks sighed and turned away from him, trying to look bored. "What do you want, Dabi?"

Dabi's shoulders sunk slightly as he curled in closer on himself. "You really can't just be grateful for being alive and leave it at that?"

"You burned my wings off and I'm supposed to thank you?" Hawks said, venom in the quiet of his voice. Dabi's anger was explosive, but Hawks had learned the power in keeping a lid on it.

"I couldn't have you flying away," Dabi said, but instead of mocking, it's raspy and a little quiet, which had Hawks narrowing his eyes.

"Why not? It would've given you revenge and taken me off the board. All wins, as far as you're concerned."

"Didn't give a shit about revenge against you. Just screwed up my plans. You're always sticking yourself in where you don't belong and messing things up."

"Your plans to get revenge on— on your father?" Hawks can't make himself say Endeavor, can't believe that the man in front of him is truly related to his mentor, his friend. It was just more Dabi bullshit.

Let it never be said that Hawks couldn't pretty up an ugly truth.

When Hawks looked back at Dabi, his eyes were hazy, unfocused, like he was far away from being in the room with Hawks. It was unnerving, when in every other interaction with him, he was almost scarily observant, eyes flitting about manically.

What had happened? Was Endeavor even alive? Dabi wouldn't tell him, but maybe in this state, Hawks could get him to slip.

He pushed his anger down deep, flipping into a softer version of himself— honey and vinegar and all that.

"Dabi, what happened? I can help you. I'm sure if people found out…whatever happened to you, something could be done—" He reached a hand out a hand to Dabi, trying to summon comfort as his muscles tensed and his stomach rolled.

"Like you helped Twice? Fuck off," Dabi said, slapping his hand away. So much for that plan. "I don't need your fucking help, hero. Don't you get it? You all think you're helping, but you're no different from us. Just helping yourselves."

Frustration set Hawks' teeth on edge, but he kept his face neutral. Dabi may have stretched his patience to the very limits of his training, but this was still a mission, and he could still be useful, even captured and wingless.

"I did want to help Bubaigawara," he said softly, ignoring the bile in his stomach. When Dabi scoffed, he pressed on. "You don't have to believe me, but I did. I don't want more people I care about to die. On either side."

Dabi jerked his gaze away. "Don't. You don't give a shit about me, and I don't care about you. So just…spare me."

"I do care about you," he pressed on, hating himself for how easy it was to lie, for the kernel of truth there despite the pile of feathers he could feel huddled underneath the floorboards. "And I know you do, you would have just killed me. You saved me. Who's the one with the savior complex here?"

"I didn't do it for you," Dabi snapped, like a cornered animal. "I'm fucking pregnant, okay? So I did it for them."

Every coherent thought fled Hawks' mind in an instant. Dabi was…so did that mean…

Dabi chuckled darkly. "Doing the math, pigeon?"

Hawks was doing the math, even though he knew before starting that it would add up. They'd been sleeping together for the better part of a year, it made sense.

Still, this was Dabi. He'd lied about his name, his past, why wouldn't he lie about this, if it meant having Hawks where he wanted him?

"Why should I believe you?"

Dabi rolled his eyes. "Why would I lie?"

Hawks scoffed. "As if anything you've said to me has been real. We both knew what this was."

Something physical. Something mutually destructive. Something with a clear and obvious expiration date.

The look Dabi sent him was long and tired. "Believe what you want. But I'm not fuckin' lying about this. If it wasn't half your fault, I would've left you there to burn. But if I gotta live through this, then so do you."

Dabi was a liar. Hawks knew he was a liar and yet, nothing rang false in his explanation. He had been wracking his brain for months wondering why Dabi had left him alive, and yet no one had laid a finger on him. Spinner had made it seem like most of the League had wanted nothing more than to dispose of him themselves, but he'd said they stayed their hand for Dabi. Why? He'd assumed it was because he wanted to do the torturing himself, but the reality was that he didn't need to.

He'd already found the one scenario Hawks never wanted for himself. Cold. Calculating. Dabi was capable of this.

Had it all been a setup? No, Dabi clearly looked upset, like this had ruined his plans. Like it was Hawks' fault. But Dabi had said it wasn't a problem. Fuck, fuck, why hadn't he asked more questions?

Despite his desire to appear unaffected, his breath came faster. "Dabi," he said, voice rough, "You can't— we can't have a kid. You can't think this is a good idea."

Trapped, trapped in a room, in a box they can't leave—

The look Dabi turned on him was quick and murderous. "I'm getting really tired of people telling me what I can and can't do."

Hawks tried appealing to the pragmatist in him. "Dabi, please. You— I don't even know where we are, but it doesn't take a genius to know that we're in the middle of nowhere, with no resources, on the run. When the heroes find you, do you think they'll care? Or worse. There's no way All for One doesn't know, and—"

"You don't know anything," Dabi said, cold. "I have a plan. It'll be fine."

A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up out of Hawks' throat, but he managed to keep it in. "Fine?" he gritted out, hands gripping the sheets. "Dabi, what are you gonna do, run to the convenience store whenever they need something? Is there even a doctor? You could both die."

"And what do you know about it? Cushy life as a hero— when have you wanted for anything?" A mean smirk curled his lips up like a sneer. "Besides, people are resilient. You'd know that. You made it eight years with parents who didn't give a shit, didn't you?"

At Hawks' sharp intake of breath, he continued. "You think I didn't do my homework? That I wouldn't know who I was literally getting in bed with? You think there's something for you to go back to out there? Everyone knows who you are now. I made sure of it. So don't threaten me with heroes who are just as likely to toss you out."

Hawks felt his chest tighten at the words, at not knowing the truth of what was transpiring beyond these walls. Still, he pushed the panic aside to deal with the problem in front of him, like he had thousands of times before. "Well, you told me who you are, Touya. So I guess that makes us equal. And if you listened, you'd know I'm not threatening. I'm trying to help you—"

"I don't need your help. I can do this. Just— you know now, so stay out of my way and do what I tell you."

Dabi stood then, and Hawks noted the way he seemed unsteady on his feet, the way he swayed. He'd always been thin, but he seemed gaunt, despite what Hawks now knew he was hiding under his coat. Almost against his will, he felt a pang of concern, hand twitching like it wanted to help support him.

This was Dabi though. He wasn't going to take help easily.

Hawks watched him leave. Distantly, some instinct told him to make a run for it, to slip past Dabi out into freedom, to fight. He was stronger now— not by much, but enough to fight off the weakened League.

But his feet didn't move to follow, just watched him leave with a new heaviness in his heart.