[ How did Dabi wind up here, leaning up against the wall near the #2 hero's door at 4 in the damn morning? Well, it's a story. One that starts with that neither of them really knew where "here" was. Cartesio, yeah, yeah, but it wasn't Japan and given everything that had happened in the past 20 hours or so, it wasn't anywhere in the world they were familiar with either. A warp power stronger than Kurogiri's wasn't something that had ever crossed his mind, but it was the only thing that made sense. Which was hard to come by nowadays—even their quirks weren't functioning properly.
That was how this all started, anyway. Dabi had tested out his quirk briefly with Nine, and it was immediately apparent that something was very, very wrong—it only took him two, maybe three seconds tops to call forth enough fire to completely incinerate a small city block. But here? It felt like he was trying to ignite a spark with damp tinder, which was enough to light a hand sized fireball and nothing more. Least his flames were still the same searing blue, cause he might not have been able to stand if they were red. And at least he wasn't the only one who was dealing with dampened powers. Turns out it wasn't just a barrier or something around this place that made it hard for the winged hero to fly. The number two villain and number hero had both discovered that together after their initial exchange went about how it usually does (after a brief pause to meet with the sheriff), with casual threats overlaid with snark and way too much bravado. So they had tested each other's quirks out, all the time keeping as much intel to themselves as possible like usual. By the time they were done it was far past the dead of night, and snark about being scared of the dark was all but expected when Hawks fluffed up his wings for a completely unrelated reason.
"Not afraid of the dark are you, hero? Or are you just scared that someone's gonna take that idiot up on his offer?"
It wouldn't have surprised Dabi, honestly. Someone was either gonna kill tonight, or it was gonna be a while. Just how those things tended to go. He personally wasn't interested, 'cause he had one boss (who he didn't listen to half the time anyway), and 'cause anyone who trusted the Sergeant was a complete and total moron. None of that was particularly voiced though, passed on in favor of something not helpful in the least.
"You don't need me to hold your hand, do you birdy? Or wing."
But snark begets snark, and when Hawks had indignantly taken him up on that offer he wasn't about to back down. On a day when he was in less of a mood he might have, but it was clear from the entirety of their fight that Dabi was just yearning to control something. That and let his flames burn free on all of the trash here. But one thing had led to another, and somehow a sarcastic offer of hand holding turned into staying the night for faux safety.
...and so Dabi was outside of Hawk's door, holding up the wall while waiting for the pro hero to let himself in through the window. He's already conceded the point of "staying over", he wasn't about to let himself get carried into the other man's room too. That would be stupid. ]
[The longer this day goes, the more Hawks is sure everything about being in 'Cartesio' will be troublesome. Not only is a major villain here, but the UA student most in conflict with that villain is also here. If it was just one, Hawks wouldn't have had a problem working with them towards leaving here, but with both he gets to play a delicate balancing act that's really going to get old. It doesn't help that their quirks aren't working right. Dabi and Bakugou might have been able to get around their quirks being less functioning with the help of items, or even just being a bit more clever, but Hawks feels stuck. He can work to be more conservative, maybe, but if it comes to a fight there's not much he can do but hope he has enough strength to end it fast.
Jeers about caged birds and clipped wings have never felt more piercing.
The idea of the other tourists, none of whom seem to even know what quirks are let alone possess them, doing something and going along with the Sergeant is lurking in the back of Hawks' mind too. Even if his balancing act is enough to keep the villain and the hero in training on the straight and narrow, is he going to have to watch out for the other people as well? Is he even able too, with the state of his quirk?
Maybe the morning will bring better clarity, though he can't say he's going to get much sleep tonight. He has a "sleep over." It's one way to keep an eye on the villain, that's for sure...even if this was something that spiraled way away from where either of them thought their night would go. It would be 'safety in numbers' as well, though Hawks knows both of them are probably the last people to really need protection at this point.
At least he has a second floor room with a window big enough to come in through. Everyone else should be asleep, but Hawks feels better if he doesn't have to run into anyone in the hallways and explain why he wasn't sleeping. He even offered to give Dabi a lift, though the Look he was shot was a clear enough rejection. The villain doesn't look like he gets a lot of sleep anyway, no one will probably care seeing him walk around.
Once inside it's easy enough to drop his jacket on the bed. He doesn't have any personal effects here besides that, so it's in no time at all that he was at the door popping it open.]
Welcome, welcome. We're all ready to have even more fun, aren't we?
[ The fact that this had all gotten away from them and it's not even been a full 24 hours yet is an understatement. Strolling in, and giving the room a quick appraisal. ]
We is awfully optimistic of you, birdie. [ The words are more play than bite, at least compared to how they were earlier. Fighting had dampened most of the fire in his chest to a manageable level, thankfully. Dabi was willing enough to let this night elapse without pinning Hawks up against a wall again (probably). ]
We'll see if you're better company than an insane serial killer and a fanatical lizard. [ No love lost there clearly, and Hawks even gets some small amount of intel for free. Not that Dabi cares in this case, both of those are basically freebies and Moonfish is in Tartarus even. The thought of them both makes him shake his head—who was gonna steer the Vangard while he was here? Mr. Compress probably, and he'd need all the luck he could get. Or fake. It's with the thought of his fellow villains floating through his mind that he assumes a seat on the floor, one leg outstretched into the middle of the room. ]
[Hawks perches himself on the bed crosslegged, his hands resting on his ankles. He has half a mind to lob a pillow at Dabi and pretend to be some kind of a gracious host, but would rather not risk the pillow. He might need that later.]
Not like we can just leave here, so it's pretty pessimistic of you to not make the most of it. [Hawks has learned that lesson pretty early--making the most of what his life is has been what he's done since he was small.]
If that's what your standards are at, maybe it's a good thing I'm here. Fanatics don't make great conversationalists.[Hawks reconsiders the pillow. Eh, he can find another one if the villain risks it.
Toss.] Don't compare me to your weird lizard. I'm insulted you'd think a Stain wannabe and I are on the same level. [He doesn't really sound offended, but he still doesn't think they're alike at all. Not all animal quirks are created equal, after all.]
[ In the grand scheme of things, he's had a hell of lot worse days. Days where his scarred skin wouldn't stop itching, days where the fire that burned inside him threatened to spill over and consume everything. Days even, where he had to corral everyone in the Vanguard to stay on task despite their collective efforts to the contrary.
Today by comparison, was pretty mild. Still, the irritation from today ate at him all the same. He didn't care about being accused, and he didn't care about the insinuation that him and the pro hero were what—fucking? It was nonsense. The thing he had cared about, about keeping the actual nature of their alliance secret, had gone smoothly enough.
So why was he annoyed? Because having to listen to the whining, ranting and wanton selfishness that ensued after Nine confessed reminded him of all the shit he hated about society. The numerous checks didn't help either. He was just in a mood when it got down to it, and after trying to clear his head by walking around he had found himself outside a familiar door.
Knock, knock. ]
Oi Hero, babysitting call. [ Most everyone should be asleep, and if they're not his tone is far from friendly. What villain wouldn't be pissed off about having a hero insinuate that he's watching over him? ]
[Hawks spent more than enough time today lost in thought.
The idea he could have found a way to intercept Nine and Moloch's fight kept circling around, his very own vulture after his peace of mind. It's not the death that's bothering him quite so much, although that's never something to be flippant about, but that he should have been able to prevent this. He has the power, and the reputation, and the lack of other commitments here. There should be nothing that's keeping him from being able to keep the peace.
His body is exhausted from little sleep and long patrols on wings that won't work as effortlessly as he's used to them being, but he still can't sleep tonight.
The knock knock is actually a welcome distraction-- a promise of other things to think about. The voice that follows is almost as gratifying as it is nerve racking.
Dabi keeps him on his toes, which is good for keeping his mind occupied, but he's also probably the person here Hawks has the most solid understanding of, which is very relaxing.]
Coming, coming. [Up off the floor and answering the door with a wave to the room, He waits until the door is shut before continuing.] Make yourself at home. Your pillow is on the end of the bed, feel free to perch there.
[ Another late night alone in a bedroom together, another lengthy stare earned by Hawks. Weirdly enough, the welcome does diffuse him slightly (though his tone outside the door was half for show). If he's gonna be called out for the pillow he's sure as hell going to grab it and plop himself down on the end of the bed. Not something he would have done without the goading (intentional or not), but that's fine. And the plushness of the bed is nice too, especially after today. ]
Guess next time I'll just say tadaima. [ Sarcastically of course, but now he might actually do it just to prove a point. A moment to throw the pillow against the wall, fold his arms behind his head and lean back. Comfortable enough, even with his legs hanging off the bed. His boots aren't coming off, but it's not the worst considering he's not laying lengthwise on the bed. ]
[Hawks takes a step towards the bed, planning to sit at the head of it before thinking better of it and leaning against the wall. His one hand fidgets with an earring while the other is shoved in a pocket. He's not sure he wouldn't fall asleep if he got too distracted or relaxed next to the villain, as odd a thought as that would have been a week ago.]
I'll be sure to say okaeri properly for you.
[Hawks rises to that challenge easily, and is only slightly slower to respond to the second comment.]
It sure was something. Can't say it was a particularly entertaining show.
[ This is routine by now, isn't it? Eh, better not to think about it. Dabi doesn't stick around after the executioner was decided—he hadn't expected to be picked but no half measures. Trial was over, and so was that shitty week. Even with his unease towards defending Sting he's in a better mood than he has been in a while. Bakugou's death was a waste, but it simplified things.
So he doesn't think much of stopping by his room and grabbing that bottle of sake he had received after that little field trip this week. He doesn't need it really, but he knows someone who probably does. (...) This was just about squaring up from the last week and hey, drinking after a mission was very much a League thing. This time he doesn't even bother knocking, he trusts that Hawk is expecting hinm by now and of course he doesn't give a damn about being rude. Strolling in and closing the door behind, bottle of high end sake in hand. ]
[Hawks doesn't stick around either--the whole day he's just had this wretched guilt twisting inside of him. He was the last one to see Bakugou alive, the last friendly at least. He spent hours ineffectually trying to argue with his killer over whether she did it, when she was clearly lying. It came close too, so many of the tourists still didn't believe it was her.
Hawks isn't sure what he would have done, if there hadn't been a correct conviction.
In a twisted way, he was almost happy when Dabi stepped up to the plate, even if ultamitely he wasn't chosen. It wasn't justice like a hero would desire--justice doesn't mix judge, jury and executioner--but it soothed some of the rotten feeling to know Clarisse would get part of what she deserved.
Once the executioner was decided though, Hawks left immediately. He couldn't stand to listen to more talk of the still-living Clarisse or callous chatter about the dead. He makes his way to his room, through the express route.
However long it takes Dabi to meander over, he'll find Hawks at the head of his bed, wings wrapped around his shoulders. There's more than enough room for Dabi to join him on the bed.]
Welcome back, I hope it's better than spoons.
[He definitely heard that conversation earlier, but the delivery is flatter than it'd be any other day. He doesn't plan on putting too much effort into teasing over it either, since it was mostly an attempt at saying something not self deprecating.]
Sake. [ Holding up the bottle and after a second of thought, plopping down onto the bed. He has a feeling he's gonna be here a while, so getting comfortable and therefore sitting crosslegged it is. Sorry not sorry about the boots. ]
Could go and get spoons if you're jealous. [ From the fact that he's settled onto the bed and his tone he's clearly just being snarky. One of them has to be. Sake should help though, so he peels off the seal and screws off the top. Offering any kind of sympathy (and honestly he doesn't feel any about Bakugou, this is just about a job being done in his eyes) is off the table, but he can offer Hawks the first drink. ]
Honey, I'm home! [ His tone is naturally layered in sarcasm from start to finish, even if the declaration is strikingly accurate in some ways. No point thinking about that though—Dabi wastes no time in kicking off his boots and closing the door behind him. There's something on his mind other than the usual Cartesio nonsense. ]
No stupid promises for senile old ladies to misunderstand this week, huh? [ It actually kind of bugs him that this is first motive he's had to care about in a while, even if he's making a mild effort to cover it in snark. ]
[Hawks has spent the afternoon in increasingly interesting seated positions around the room. When Dabi walks in, he was lying on his back, his feet on the wall and his head hanging off. His wings and arms are thrown wide, Dabi's pillow clutched in one hand. That hand and wing fold up over his chest, a silent invitation for Dabi if he wants to join him.]
[ Company is the reason he's here (in both meanings of the word), though that'll go unsaid. Dabi walks over to the bed once he's done straightening out his boots like he would if this room had a genkan; some habits die hard ok.
Once he's close to Hawks, Dabi just stares for a few seconds. What is this position, even. He's not sure how he's supposed to lay here but he doesn't want to think about it too hard. That position wouldn't really be comfortable for him given his height, so he opts instead to sit down and then rolls Hawks on top of him, repositioning so they're laying lengthwise on the bed. ]
[At this point it would be weirder if Dabi didn't stop by for some form of 'company.'
When Dabi approaches and stares, Hawks stares back--mildly amused at this standoff, despite his general troubled mood. When the maneuvering starts, he goes along with it easily. He helpfully shifts his wings around, until the two are settled, where they then drape off to the sides. Hawks rests his chin on his crossed arms from his place above Dabi.]
It's a lot more concerning than the last "suggestions" have been.
[ When they had become entangled in one another following the events of Friday morning, he was sure the way his heart still thundered after was only natural due to finally being true to his nature. He could be patient, but he wasn't really cut out for it anymore. 'specially not in an environment like this. But as a little bird had so truthfully chirped, he did find relief in other ways. Combining the two had to be the reason he had felt like his ribcage was going to break open—a rare one time occurrence.
Feeling this way for a second time proved his previous assumption entirely wrong, not to mention he was technically dead. His heart wasn't the only traitor this time, either. His skin felt like it was on fire, even the scarred parts, and what should have been a familiar comfort was all wrong. There wasn't any physical warmth to it, at all. He couldn't vent this kind of heat, but did he really want to? He gave up on running from his flames another lifetime ago, and he wasn't about to change that now.
Shoving those thoughts aside, Dabi runs his fingers through sandy blonde hair. The action is gentle in contrast to how he feels; no pulling out locks or staples. He could have easily reached for feathers instead, but it's more than laziness that decides his choice of target. Not to say he wasn't comfortable with his partner nestled on top of him, though. The only thing that was missing was the solace of being the only mind awake. ]
Go to sleep birdie—you're a bluebird not a nightingale.
[The warmth under him, the steady heartbeat under his ear, the fingers through his hair, not to mention the pleasant ache from an enjoyable workout--he should be asleep. He even shut his eyes and tried to pretend to sleep, as if he could trick his brain into slowing down.
It didn't work when he was a kid and it wasn't working now.
Dabi speaking up was the final straw. There's no point to pretending if no one is going to play along. The words slur slightly, since Hawks doesn't bother lighting his head from Dabi's chest.]
That's too bad birdie, bedtime story was a one time deal. [ There's clear amusement in Dabi's tone, that reverberates lightly in how his chest rises and falls. After a beat, he opts to ruffle the other man's hair in a faux play of escalation. Bemused would be more apt in all honesty—bringing up their night in jail, and with that the name he hadn't spoken in years wasn't intentional. Hoping Hawks wouldn't notice was foolish, but hoping they could move on to other distractions didn't have the worse odds. ]
[ For the better part of the past two weeks, Dabi's been even more of a vagabond than normal. Their first night back he dipped sometime in the early hours of the morning (he hadn't slept, his mind inundated with thoughts) without a word. He needed time to think, and that was actually impossible when a pretty bird kept stealing all his intention.
A quick pitstop the day after at a flower shop to drop off that feather, and Dabi was determined to get back to business as usual. The league reunion was both a pain in the ass and a welcome homecoming, though the more detailed Hawks bits were left out. He wasn't ready to have a talk with Hawks yet, like hell he'd give one to Shigaraki about...whatever they were. Not like he protested either when Shigaraki wanted a different liaison for Hawks, though he did push to make sure Mr. Compress got the job instead of Spinner or Toga. After that a few days he spends just falling back into the old routine of burning up the trash roaming the streets. One trashrun in particular finds him searing a "16" with his fire into the sidewalk. It wasn't the most intentional (the result of a wandering mind that kept snapping back to familiar comforts), but it was better than searing a dove or a flower.
It's been two weeks by the time Dabi shows up at Hawks apartment again. The twenty eight of December to be exact, and whether that was intentional or not isn't something he wants to think about. Purposely, he shows up around 9, knowing that Hawks wouldn't be back for a while with birthday festivities. He needs more time to think on whether he really wants to be here when the hero gets back anyway. Or that's what he tells himself, cause he never once thinks about leaving once he's arrived. Whenever Hawks gets back he'll find Dabi sprawled on his couch with a plate full of spent cigarettes on the ground, boots hanging off the side. ]
[When they had finally gotten their way back home, it had been natural to head to Hawks' place. It was more secure, and private, than any other place they could think to scrounge up. The whole time, Hawks talked. If he let out enough inane chatter, his thoughts could continue their circling and maybe then he could get a perfect solution to the mess that is their everything. His cover was blown to Dabi, whatever flimsy version of it existed before all of this. Endeavor would have to... what? Number two hero or no, he couldn't exactly approach it all on the word of a villain, not without proof and that would take time and probably throw the country in chaos. Hawks isn't exactly number one hero material, either.
His thoughts don't stop until late in the night, and even then only just long enough to fall into bed.
When he wakes up alone, he tells himself he didn't expect anything else, which is fairly true. It doesn't stop the feeling of disappointment from curling in his gut. He feels for the feather he gave Dabi all those weeks ago, but he knows Dabi is too smart to keep it on him. When he checks where it is, he sighs but feels a measure of reassurance. A flower shop was a positive for them.
He gets just enough inner peace to not jump when his phone chooses that moment to start going off. Looks like his sidekicks and the Commission have gotten wind he was flying about. He shoots off texts first, before heading to meet up with the two groups in person. Between them and Miruko, who shows up later that night at his apartment and chooses not to leave, he doesn't have near enough free time to think over the next several weeks. The price of going AWOL for three weeks, even if he can blame it on the Hero Commission asking him to investigate something, and a mandatory, surprise exercise with the League of Villains respectively.
In between meetings and getting back to patrolling (and setting up a meeting with 'Mr. Compress' for New Years, when he's finally being scrutinized less), Hawks keeps an eye out for signs Dabi had been around. The burnt alleys were most common, but the singed "16" had his wings fluffing from anticipation. he was walking on air when he made a pitstop at the grocery store after work. Miruko would have a fit if she could see how many flavors of poptarts his pantry has now in celebration.
Christmas came and went, his sidekicks teased him about staring at his phone too much, wondering what 'pretty bird' he was expecting to contact him. He brushed it off, laughing that he was excited to get home to his fried chicken. For once, he would much rather have a hunk of extra crispy bacon than his usual. Nothing of note happens though, until he finally gets himself free from his own party on the 28th. Hawks enters his apartment from the balcony, rushing to enter when he notices the faint light through the curtains. Not enough for warning bells normally, but more than there should have been. He wants to launch over at Dabi and groan when he takes in the scene. As is it, he kicks off his shoes on the welcome mat he keeps at the window and walks over to make himself comfortable laying on top of Dabi. Old habits and favorite positions don't just go away.]
It also looks great and resists stains, what of it?
[ Old habits don't die hard. Not even when you try to bury them in a field of bodies, or the ashes of buildings old and new. Whoever said time fixed all things was full of shit, even if they were probably more patient than to cave after two weeks—but who's counting?
The tension that leaves his body after they fit together seemlessly again is proof that trying to burn his feelings was a futile effort. It's simulatanously both a relief and an irritation, enough to cause a brief flare in temperature. Two weeks is a long time to go without touch, even if it's an isolation of his own making. And two seconds is all it takes for him to push down his indecision, scarred hands weaving their way amongst scarlet feathers fervently.
With things settled into how they should be, it takes Dabi several seconds to respond. Enough for Hawks to notice that while some things haven't changed, a few things have. There's noticeably less give to Dabi's torso (not that there ever was much in Cartesio), but fourteen days is more than enough to fall back into disastrous eating habits. The helix piercings in his left ear are gold now too, catching the light when he tilts his head with a thin smile. ]
Nothin, birdie. Would be cruel of me to deny you your fried chicken dreams.
[ By the time morning comes around, Hawks bed will again be disappointingly empty. His kitchen however, is not. Dabi's sitting at the table on his phone (just boxers and undershirt for now, it's apparently too early for the rest of his edgy ensemble) half an eaten apple pie poptart in his mouth. The plate he used for cigarettes is in the sink, unwashed—but hey he at least went to the effort to make sure the used butts wound up in the trash.
His attention is focused on his phone screen, but he does mumble through a mouth full of poptart when he catches a glimpse of bright red in his periphery. ]
If you bought all these to experiment with the meaning of popcorn chicken, I'm burning 'em.
[When Hawks wakes up, the empty space next to him where his villain was supposed to be is more disappointing than when it happened last time. Thinking that he would at least stay for breakfast, and hoping that he’d stay for longer. Hawks had told everyone he wouldn’t be in today even— though without someone thing to occupy him, he might reconsider and go anyway.
Sighing, he shucks on sweats before trudging towards the kitchen. Once at the doorway he stares in confusion, head cocking to the side. He hadn’t expected this sight, that was for sure.
When Dabi speaks up, the annoyed huff Hawks makes can’t smother the warmth nesting in his chest. He shakes his head and pretends his feathers aren’t puffing up in response to his fondness and pleasant surprise. It takes him several steps into the room, but he’s also going to pretend nonchalance in that he didn’t put on a shirt, and he’s probably got some outstanding hickies to show how well they had been celebrating last night.]
You should only be worried about that if you find pie crusts in the fridge.
[Once he finishes crossing the kitchen to start some coffee in the machine’s tucked away corner on the counter, Hawks returns to drape himself over Dabi’s back and shoulders.]
Are you really going to only have pop tarts for breakfast?
[ ...pie crusts? Dabi really doesn't want to know, and his eyes snap to Hawks in one of his typical deadpan stares. The attention is short lived, cause his eyes dart back to his phone again (also because he had looked in the fridge and it was thankfully pie crust free). What's holding his attention is clear when Hawks settles behind him—well kinda. Of all the things Dabi could be doing when he first wakes up, playing a game is apparently what he's chosen. Not just any game either, but Temple Run—there's a lot of fast side scrolling going on until his character fails to slide under a tree.
That's that. He tilts his head upward, the other half of the poptart sliding into his mouth while he stares at Hawks again for good measure, admiring his handiwork from last night. Don't worry, he's rude but not that trashy to speak with his mouth full. Munch, munch, swallow. ]
Do I have any other choice? Still waiting on that breakfast in bed, y'know.
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week 1 night 1/2 bc they're amazing at this
That was how this all started, anyway. Dabi had tested out his quirk briefly with Nine, and it was immediately apparent that something was very, very wrong—it only took him two, maybe three seconds tops to call forth enough fire to completely incinerate a small city block. But here? It felt like he was trying to ignite a spark with damp tinder, which was enough to light a hand sized fireball and nothing more. Least his flames were still the same searing blue, cause he might not have been able to stand if they were red. And at least he wasn't the only one who was dealing with dampened powers. Turns out it wasn't just a barrier or something around this place that made it hard for the winged hero to fly. The number two villain and number hero had both discovered that together after their initial exchange went about how it usually does (after a brief pause to meet with the sheriff), with casual threats overlaid with snark and way too much bravado. So they had tested each other's quirks out, all the time keeping as much intel to themselves as possible like usual. By the time they were done it was far past the dead of night, and snark about being scared of the dark was all but expected when Hawks fluffed up his wings for a completely unrelated reason.
"Not afraid of the dark are you, hero? Or are you just scared that someone's gonna take that idiot up on his offer?"
It wouldn't have surprised Dabi, honestly. Someone was either gonna kill tonight, or it was gonna be a while. Just how those things tended to go. He personally wasn't interested, 'cause he had one boss (who he didn't listen to half the time anyway), and 'cause anyone who trusted the Sergeant was a complete and total moron. None of that was particularly voiced though, passed on in favor of something not helpful in the least.
"You don't need me to hold your hand, do you birdy? Or wing."
But snark begets snark, and when Hawks had indignantly taken him up on that offer he wasn't about to back down. On a day when he was in less of a mood he might have, but it was clear from the entirety of their fight that Dabi was just yearning to control something. That and let his flames burn free on all of the trash here. But one thing had led to another, and somehow a sarcastic offer of hand holding turned into staying the night for faux safety.
...and so Dabi was outside of Hawk's door, holding up the wall while waiting for the pro hero to let himself in through the window. He's already conceded the point of "staying over", he wasn't about to let himself get carried into the other man's room too. That would be stupid. ]
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Jeers about caged birds and clipped wings have never felt more piercing.
The idea of the other tourists, none of whom seem to even know what quirks are let alone possess them, doing something and going along with the Sergeant is lurking in the back of Hawks' mind too. Even if his balancing act is enough to keep the villain and the hero in training on the straight and narrow, is he going to have to watch out for the other people as well? Is he even able too, with the state of his quirk?
Maybe the morning will bring better clarity, though he can't say he's going to get much sleep tonight. He has a "sleep over." It's one way to keep an eye on the villain, that's for sure...even if this was something that spiraled way away from where either of them thought their night would go. It would be 'safety in numbers' as well, though Hawks knows both of them are probably the last people to really need protection at this point.
At least he has a second floor room with a window big enough to come in through. Everyone else should be asleep, but Hawks feels better if he doesn't have to run into anyone in the hallways and explain why he wasn't sleeping. He even offered to give Dabi a lift, though the Look he was shot was a clear enough rejection. The villain doesn't look like he gets a lot of sleep anyway, no one will probably care seeing him walk around.
Once inside it's easy enough to drop his jacket on the bed. He doesn't have any personal effects here besides that, so it's in no time at all that he was at the door popping it open.]
Welcome, welcome. We're all ready to have even more fun, aren't we?
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We is awfully optimistic of you, birdie. [ The words are more play than bite, at least compared to how they were earlier. Fighting had dampened most of the fire in his chest to a manageable level, thankfully. Dabi was willing enough to let this night elapse without pinning Hawks up against a wall again (probably). ]
We'll see if you're better company than an insane serial killer and a fanatical lizard. [ No love lost there clearly, and Hawks even gets some small amount of intel for free. Not that Dabi cares in this case, both of those are basically freebies and Moonfish is in Tartarus even. The thought of them both makes him shake his head—who was gonna steer the Vangard while he was here? Mr. Compress probably, and he'd need all the luck he could get. Or fake. It's with the thought of his fellow villains floating through his mind that he assumes a seat on the floor, one leg outstretched into the middle of the room. ]
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Not like we can just leave here, so it's pretty pessimistic of you to not make the most of it. [Hawks has learned that lesson pretty early--making the most of what his life is has been what he's done since he was small.]
If that's what your standards are at, maybe it's a good thing I'm here. Fanatics don't make great conversationalists.[Hawks reconsiders the pillow. Eh, he can find another one if the villain risks it.
Toss.] Don't compare me to your weird lizard. I'm insulted you'd think a Stain wannabe and I are on the same level. [He doesn't really sound offended, but he still doesn't think they're alike at all. Not all animal quirks are created equal, after all.]
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Today by comparison, was pretty mild. Still, the irritation from today ate at him all the same. He didn't care about being accused, and he didn't care about the insinuation that him and the pro hero were what—fucking? It was nonsense. The thing he had cared about, about keeping the actual nature of their alliance secret, had gone smoothly enough.
So why was he annoyed? Because having to listen to the whining, ranting and wanton selfishness that ensued after Nine confessed reminded him of all the shit he hated about society. The numerous checks didn't help either. He was just in a mood when it got down to it, and after trying to clear his head by walking around he had found himself outside a familiar door.
Knock, knock. ]
Oi Hero, babysitting call. [ Most everyone should be asleep, and if they're not his tone is far from friendly. What villain wouldn't be pissed off about having a hero insinuate that he's watching over him? ]
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The idea he could have found a way to intercept Nine and Moloch's fight kept circling around, his very own vulture after his peace of mind. It's not the death that's bothering him quite so much, although that's never something to be flippant about, but that he should have been able to prevent this. He has the power, and the reputation, and the lack of other commitments here. There should be nothing that's keeping him from being able to keep the peace.
His body is exhausted from little sleep and long patrols on wings that won't work as effortlessly as he's used to them being, but he still can't sleep tonight.
The knock knock is actually a welcome distraction-- a promise of other things to think about. The voice that follows is almost as gratifying as it is nerve racking.
Dabi keeps him on his toes, which is good for keeping his mind occupied, but he's also probably the person here Hawks has the most solid understanding of, which is very relaxing.]
Coming, coming. [Up off the floor and answering the door with a wave to the room, He waits until the door is shut before continuing.] Make yourself at home. Your pillow is on the end of the bed, feel free to perch there.
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Guess next time I'll just say tadaima. [ Sarcastically of course, but now he might actually do it just to prove a point. A moment to throw the pillow against the wall, fold his arms behind his head and lean back. Comfortable enough, even with his legs hanging off the bed. His boots aren't coming off, but it's not the worst considering he's not laying lengthwise on the bed. ]
That was a show today.
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I'll be sure to say okaeri properly for you.
[Hawks rises to that challenge easily, and is only slightly slower to respond to the second comment.]
It sure was something. Can't say it was a particularly entertaining show.
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week 3 post trial (i can remember to date these)
So he doesn't think much of stopping by his room and grabbing that bottle of sake he had received after that little field trip this week. He doesn't need it really, but he knows someone who probably does. (...) This was just about squaring up from the last week and hey, drinking after a mission was very much a League thing. This time he doesn't even bother knocking, he trusts that Hawk is expecting hinm by now and of course he doesn't give a damn about being rude. Strolling in and closing the door behind, bottle of high end sake in hand. ]
Tweet tweet, birdie. Got somethin' for you.
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Hawks isn't sure what he would have done, if there hadn't been a correct conviction.
In a twisted way, he was almost happy when Dabi stepped up to the plate, even if ultamitely he wasn't chosen. It wasn't justice like a hero would desire--justice doesn't mix judge, jury and executioner--but it soothed some of the rotten feeling to know Clarisse would get part of what she deserved.
Once the executioner was decided though, Hawks left immediately. He couldn't stand to listen to more talk of the still-living Clarisse or callous chatter about the dead. He makes his way to his room, through the express route.
However long it takes Dabi to meander over, he'll find Hawks at the head of his bed, wings wrapped around his shoulders. There's more than enough room for Dabi to join him on the bed.]
Welcome back, I hope it's better than spoons.
[He definitely heard that conversation earlier, but the delivery is flatter than it'd be any other day. He doesn't plan on putting too much effort into teasing over it either, since it was mostly an attempt at saying something not self deprecating.]
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Could go and get spoons if you're jealous. [ From the fact that he's settled onto the bed and his tone he's clearly just being snarky. One of them has to be. Sake should help though, so he peels off the seal and screws off the top. Offering any kind of sympathy (and honestly he doesn't feel any about Bakugou, this is just about a job being done in his eyes) is off the table, but he can offer Hawks the first drink. ]
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After Dabi cracks it open, Hawks gratefully holds a hand out to take a drink. His wings shift to the sides, just enough to not be cocooned in them.]
Thanks but no thanks, I like this a hell of a lot better than spoons.
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week 6 Tuesday Night
No stupid promises for senile old ladies to misunderstand this week, huh? [ It actually kind of bugs him that this is first motive he's had to care about in a while, even if he's making a mild effort to cover it in snark. ]
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[Hawks has spent the afternoon in increasingly interesting seated positions around the room. When Dabi walks in, he was lying on his back, his feet on the wall and his head hanging off. His wings and arms are thrown wide, Dabi's pillow clutched in one hand. That hand and wing fold up over his chest, a silent invitation for Dabi if he wants to join him.]
No, can't say this one can be misinterpreted.
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Once he's close to Hawks, Dabi just stares for a few seconds. What is this position, even. He's not sure how he's supposed to lay here but he doesn't want to think about it too hard. That position wouldn't really be comfortable for him given his height, so he opts instead to sit down and then rolls Hawks on top of him, repositioning so they're laying lengthwise on the bed. ]
That's what got you batty, birdbrain?
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When Dabi approaches and stares, Hawks stares back--mildly amused at this standoff, despite his general troubled mood. When the maneuvering starts, he goes along with it easily. He helpfully shifts his wings around, until the two are settled, where they then drape off to the sides. Hawks rests his chin on his crossed arms from his place above Dabi.]
It's a lot more concerning than the last "suggestions" have been.
1/2
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gyy
Feeling this way for a second time proved his previous assumption entirely wrong, not to mention he was technically dead. His heart wasn't the only traitor this time, either. His skin felt like it was on fire, even the scarred parts, and what should have been a familiar comfort was all wrong. There wasn't any physical warmth to it, at all. He couldn't vent this kind of heat, but did he really want to? He gave up on running from his flames another lifetime ago, and he wasn't about to change that now.
Shoving those thoughts aside, Dabi runs his fingers through sandy blonde hair. The action is gentle in contrast to how he feels; no pulling out locks or staples. He could have easily reached for feathers instead, but it's more than laziness that decides his choice of target. Not to say he wasn't comfortable with his partner nestled on top of him, though. The only thing that was missing was the solace of being the only mind awake. ]
Go to sleep birdie—you're a bluebird not a nightingale.
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It didn't work when he was a kid and it wasn't working now.
Dabi speaking up was the final straw. There's no point to pretending if no one is going to play along. The words slur slightly, since Hawks doesn't bother lighting his head from Dabi's chest.]
Woulda if I coulda. 'S easier said th'n done.
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homecoming
A quick pitstop the day after at a flower shop to drop off that feather, and Dabi was determined to get back to business as usual. The league reunion was both a pain in the ass and a welcome homecoming, though the more detailed Hawks bits were left out. He wasn't ready to have a talk with Hawks yet, like hell he'd give one to Shigaraki about...whatever they were. Not like he protested either when Shigaraki wanted a different liaison for Hawks, though he did push to make sure Mr. Compress got the job instead of Spinner or Toga. After that a few days he spends just falling back into the old routine of burning up the trash roaming the streets. One trashrun in particular finds him searing a "16" with his fire into the sidewalk. It wasn't the most intentional (the result of a wandering mind that kept snapping back to familiar comforts), but it was better than searing a dove or a flower.
It's been two weeks by the time Dabi shows up at Hawks apartment again. The twenty eight of December to be exact, and whether that was intentional or not isn't something he wants to think about. Purposely, he shows up around 9, knowing that Hawks wouldn't be back for a while with birthday festivities. He needs more time to think on whether he really wants to be here when the hero gets back anyway. Or that's what he tells himself, cause he never once thinks about leaving once he's arrived. Whenever Hawks gets back he'll find Dabi sprawled on his couch with a plate full of spent cigarettes on the ground, boots hanging off the side. ]
Didn't anyone tell you that leather traps heat?
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His thoughts don't stop until late in the night, and even then only just long enough to fall into bed.
When he wakes up alone, he tells himself he didn't expect anything else, which is fairly true. It doesn't stop the feeling of disappointment from curling in his gut. He feels for the feather he gave Dabi all those weeks ago, but he knows Dabi is too smart to keep it on him. When he checks where it is, he sighs but feels a measure of reassurance. A flower shop was a positive for them.
He gets just enough inner peace to not jump when his phone chooses that moment to start going off. Looks like his sidekicks and the Commission have gotten wind he was flying about. He shoots off texts first, before heading to meet up with the two groups in person. Between them and Miruko, who shows up later that night at his apartment and chooses not to leave, he doesn't have near enough free time to think over the next several weeks. The price of going AWOL for three weeks, even if he can blame it on the Hero Commission asking him to investigate something, and a mandatory, surprise exercise with the League of Villains respectively.
In between meetings and getting back to patrolling (and setting up a meeting with 'Mr. Compress' for New Years, when he's finally being scrutinized less), Hawks keeps an eye out for signs Dabi had been around. The burnt alleys were most common, but the singed "16" had his wings fluffing from anticipation. he was walking on air when he made a pitstop at the grocery store after work. Miruko would have a fit if she could see how many flavors of poptarts his pantry has now in celebration.
Christmas came and went, his sidekicks teased him about staring at his phone too much, wondering what 'pretty bird' he was expecting to contact him. He brushed it off, laughing that he was excited to get home to his fried chicken. For once, he would much rather have a hunk of extra crispy bacon than his usual. Nothing of note happens though, until he finally gets himself free from his own party on the 28th. Hawks enters his apartment from the balcony, rushing to enter when he notices the faint light through the curtains. Not enough for warning bells normally, but more than there should have been. He wants to launch over at Dabi and groan when he takes in the scene. As is it, he kicks off his shoes on the welcome mat he keeps at the window and walks over to make himself comfortable laying on top of Dabi. Old habits and favorite positions don't just go away.]
It also looks great and resists stains, what of it?
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The tension that leaves his body after they fit together seemlessly again is proof that trying to burn his feelings was a futile effort. It's simulatanously both a relief and an irritation, enough to cause a brief flare in temperature. Two weeks is a long time to go without touch, even if it's an isolation of his own making. And two seconds is all it takes for him to push down his indecision, scarred hands weaving their way amongst scarlet feathers fervently.
With things settled into how they should be, it takes Dabi several seconds to respond. Enough for Hawks to notice that while some things haven't changed, a few things have. There's noticeably less give to Dabi's torso (not that there ever was much in Cartesio), but fourteen days is more than enough to fall back into disastrous eating habits. The helix piercings in his left ear are gold now too, catching the light when he tilts his head with a thin smile. ]
Nothin, birdie. Would be cruel of me to deny you your fried chicken dreams.
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winter fluff \o\
His attention is focused on his phone screen, but he does mumble through a mouth full of poptart when he catches a glimpse of bright red in his periphery. ]
If you bought all these to experiment with the meaning of popcorn chicken, I'm burning 'em.
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onething to occupy him, he might reconsider and go anyway.Sighing, he shucks on sweats before trudging towards the kitchen. Once at the doorway he stares in confusion, head cocking to the side. He hadn’t expected this sight, that was for sure.
When Dabi speaks up, the annoyed huff Hawks makes can’t smother the warmth nesting in his chest. He shakes his head and pretends his feathers aren’t puffing up in response to his fondness and pleasant surprise. It takes him several steps into the room, but he’s also going to pretend nonchalance in that he didn’t put on a shirt, and he’s probably got some outstanding hickies to show how well they had been celebrating last night.]
You should only be worried about that if you find pie crusts in the fridge.
[Once he finishes crossing the kitchen to start some coffee in the machine’s tucked away corner on the counter, Hawks returns to drape himself over Dabi’s back and shoulders.]
Are you really going to only have pop tarts for breakfast?
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That's that. He tilts his head upward, the other half of the poptart sliding into his mouth while he stares at Hawks again for good measure, admiring his handiwork from last night. Don't worry, he's rude but not that trashy to speak with his mouth full. Munch, munch, swallow. ]
Do I have any other choice? Still waiting on that breakfast in bed, y'know.
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