#DabiHawksWeek22 @dabihawksweek || Day 3 || Domestic || soft vibes, canon, pre-war shit ||
ââ
Theyâre having a picnic.
Sort of.
ââ
Theyâre having a picnic.
Sort of.
Itâs nearly 10 at night, so maybe âpicnicâ is a little far fetched considering the blanket that Hawksâ drug outside from the chest in his living room, and the few scattered candles that Hawks asked Dabi to light for âambiance.â
Hawks had only come back a short time earlier
Hawks had only come back a short time earlier
through the balcony doors, and heâd wandered over to see what Dabi was making a quick fried rice. He looked relaxed. Relieved even. Heâd also looked happy to see Dabi. Dabi was, like many of their joined nights together
making dinner for them since Hawks, more often than not, continued to consider canned coffee a source of protein.
Before saying that it was nice outside, and they should eat on the balcony.
Before saying that it was nice outside, and they should eat on the balcony.
After finishing making food, and after Hawks had wandered back to Dabi stripped from his day-to-day hero-clown costume and into his own joggers and a t-shirt, they took the food outside. All while Hawksâ feathers pulled a blanket outside and carried along some candles with it.
The stars above them are distant and quiet, polluted from the light of the city. Dabi thinks that maybe one day heâll take Hawks outside the city, and show him the stars and how much brighter they could be away from the noise of a city that asks too much of him.
The blue of the
The blue of the
is dimmer, like the stars, rivalling the gold of Hawksâ eyes as he begins to scarf down their food. The light from /his/ fire caresses the shadows under Hawksâ eyes, spotlighting the dappling of freckles over his cheeks and nose.
Dabi watches, leaving his food untouched, as Hawksâ cheeks puff out like a chipmunk, giving Hawksâ hero name a run for his money.
'Japanâs No. 2 Hero: Chipmunk,' he thinks.
'Japanâs No. 2 Hero: Chipmunk,' he thinks.
Dabi snorts at the thought, and Hawks looks over at him with his bushy eyebrows raised. Thereâs crumbs of rice on the corners of his mouth likening him to an animal at the speed at which he eats. At least Dabi never has to question whether or not Hawks likes what he makes.
âWhaâ you laughinâ for?â Hawks asks around his mouth full. Manners, Dabi almost says aloud but keeps that lid closed, just quirking his lips up instead.
As Hawks speaks, his ears perk a little and the light shines over the red of his earrings. Earrings that Dabi plans on
As Hawks speaks, his ears perk a little and the light shines over the red of his earrings. Earrings that Dabi plans on
replacing. The small box of the new studded blue topaz earrings sits heavy in his pocket. Heâd been carrying it around all day, and had thought momentarily about just leaving it by Hawksâ bedside table to wake up toâââbut he wants to see Hawksâ eyes light up,
wants to see Hawksâ put them on as his blue adorns Hawksâ ears.
The red studs he currently wears are a part of Hawksâ hero costume that Hawksâ never seemed to take off.
The red studs he currently wears are a part of Hawksâ hero costume that Hawksâ never seemed to take off.
How nice it is for Dabi to be the person who strips Hawks down the barest of his bones, hero costume thrown away in a corner of Hawksâ bedroom, or rumpled around his thighs on rooftops, but the earrings remained. Thereâs a fresh burning in his stomach that starts as he
imagines replacing that one last piece of Hawksâ ridiculous hero costume with a sliver of himself.
Dabi pulls his hand from the box in his pocket and reaches over to Hawksâ face, to wipe stray crumbs from around the corners of Hawksâ mouth. âYou look like a rodent.â
Dabi pulls his hand from the box in his pocket and reaches over to Hawksâ face, to wipe stray crumbs from around the corners of Hawksâ mouth. âYou look like a rodent.â
Hawksâ eyes trail over Dabiâs face, trace every corner of his expression and Dabi can feel the questions in his gaze, feel him dissecting the slight shift of mood in the air, and noting, but not asking aloud, why Dabi hadnât begun to eat yet.
âRude,â Hawks huffs but gulps down his bite. Dabi leaves the pads of his fingers over Hawksâ chin, the hair of his chin that barely makes up a goatee, runs his skin over wispily like a leaf falling to the ground. He brushes his hand past Hawks cheek to twist at a strand of
golden hair that flutters out of his digits in a sudden breeze over the balcony.
Dabi lends forward, presses a chaste kiss against Hawksâ cheek, before whispering, âHow about we celebrate?â
Dabi lends forward, presses a chaste kiss against Hawksâ cheek, before whispering, âHow about we celebrate?â
âOh?â Hawks says, putting down his fork onto his plate. âWhat would we be celebrating?â
'You,' he thinks. 'Having you here with me.'
âWho knows? Eating, being alive, us? Do you need a reason to celebrate?â
'You,' he thinks. 'Having you here with me.'
âWho knows? Eating, being alive, us? Do you need a reason to celebrate?â
Hawks puts his hand on Dabiâs face and tugs him away, gently, so he can look into his eyes. âUs?â He asks and Dabi tries not to latch onto the smile thatâs in Hawksâ voice, the sparkle that twinges in the corners of his eyes.
The part of himself that would have latched onto the look on Hawksâ face immediately is trying to surge up, but he gulps back down the pieces of Touya clawing up his throat, like a vine twisting up a trellis. He wants to throw himself into this. All of this.
The little box in his pocket is already betraying him for throwing him into a love that may or may not last. A love heâs starting to hold ontoââa love that is larger than the blue skies he used to look up to and ask for help from.
Todoroki Touya asked for help from those skies.
Todoroki Touya asked for help from those skies.
Dabi just looks at them and asks Why. Talks to the sky but doesnât expect any answers back.
Thereâs a sense of dĂ©jĂ rĂȘvĂš thatâs not lost on him. Heâs dreamed pieces of this scenario beforeââthough, the mornings he woke up after those dreams, he tried to wave it off, never dwelled on it for too long. When his endeavor to die has been his only reason for continuing to
live, he couldnât grant himself the option of dwelling and dreaming.
The boy who loved too much could only dream about having that love returned to him. Of a house to call a home, and a person to come home to.
The boy who loved too much could only dream about having that love returned to him. Of a house to call a home, and a person to come home to.
For some months now heâs had a semblance of a home to come back to. Heâs called it home. Hawks has called it home.
[+++ TWT limit]
[+++ TWT limit]
When they first met, when Dabi first showed up in Hawksâ apartment, Hawks hadnât called the place as much. It had been: âHow did you find my apartment?â
Not: "How did you find my home?"
Not: "How did you find my home?"
Now itâs bits of, "Welcome home." And, "Welcome back," whispered across each otherâs lips or said from the entryway of the apartment.
Hawks is rarely already back at the apartment when Dabi shows up, when he slips through the balcony door thatâs been left unlocked for months now
Hawks is rarely already back at the apartment when Dabi shows up, when he slips through the balcony door thatâs been left unlocked for months now
The place, with its unlocked door, is always prepared for him. Now, Hawks isnât shocked when Dabi is there in the kitchen or lounging on the couch like he owns the place, or reading one of the books that have begun to collect themselves in the apartment either.
As if that part of himself hadnât started to leak through already. It does, more and more, anytime heâs with Hawks, anytime he wakes up with Hawks still in bed and he presses his fingers over the constellation of freckles on Hawksâ cheeks and gives the constellations names of
their own. These constellations deserve to have their own name, not names stolen from the ones existing in the sky. If Hawks was going to be grounded, Dabi would give him a sky here.
Thereâs a sense of finality that is also not lost on him. He knows when people are going to wave him off, just like he waved off his dream, but heâs hoping that Hawks isnât one of those people. Itâs been an unearthly amount of time since he allowed himself to dreamââ
and now heâs dreaming about Hawks, and keeping Hawks around for the long term.
A home, far, far away.
âUs,â Dabi replies, bringing himself back to Hawksâ looking at him with an uncountable number of stars in his eyes.
A home, far, far away.
âUs,â Dabi replies, bringing himself back to Hawksâ looking at him with an uncountable number of stars in his eyes.
âWell, if weâre celebrating then, letâs do it properly,â Hawks smiles, and the smile is wide, glimmering, and has lost all the sharp edges from months previously. Dabi wonders if Hawks knows how much of the buried Takami Keigo has begun to slip through his carefully crafted cage
and coffin. Just like Dabi has noticed the shedding bits of /Dabi./
A couple of feathers zip out of Hawksâ wings and shoot through the half-opened balcony door, back into the apartment, off to get a bottle of something from the bar cart pressed against the furthest wall of the dining area in the apartment.
âNot the cheap shit,â Dabi notes, familiar with Hawks tastes. Earlier on heâd just get whatever he could at the store, until one of the first times Dabi had gone with Hawksâ to the storeâboth dressed in, albeit terrible disguisesâbut they walked the aisles and
and Dabi told Hawks about all of the best liquors. How Kurogiri would make drinks for them at the bar, and how he learned a bit from watching and trying to replicate the drinks.
Besides, who said villains couldnât have hobbies?
Besides, who said villains couldnât have hobbies?
âIt's a wonder that you have such expensive taste,â Hawks says, and he presses his nose against Dabiâs ear, leaning on the meat of his palm close to Dabi and letting his head fall on Dabiâs shoulder. âMy hero-salary has spoiled you.â
Dabi barks out a laugh that only brings a larger smile to Hawksâ face. âWhat else are you going to do with that money? Before I came around, your apartment looked like it was freshly renovated, not like someone had been living in it for years.â
Hawks tilts his head to the side and looks up to the Kyushu sky for a minute. He doesnât focus on the stars, or the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, he doesnât seem to focus on anything as he stares up, as if heâs trying to find something that doesnât exist.
Like if he stared long enough, he could conjure it to life. He hums, before saying, âMaybe you should have thought about home decor, instead of villainy.â
Dabi shifts away, moving their food off to the side, off the blanket, and he stretches out his legs in the unoccupied space. He overlaps his ankles at their hinges, and feels the weight of the box in his pocket again, heavier than before with the food out of sight.
Maybe Hawks was right. He should have been a home decorator. Or maybe, the only home he wanted to help decorate was a home with Hawks. Their own home, far away, away from the sounds, away from the light pollution. Somewhere that Touya wasnât suppressed to leaking through, but
but could bubble over and be Touya.
âI did a pretty good job,â Dabi teases.
And he did.
They did.
Since heâd been around, theyâd managed to fill the apartment so it actually looked like some lived there.
âI did a pretty good job,â Dabi teases.
And he did.
They did.
Since heâd been around, theyâd managed to fill the apartment so it actually looked like some lived there.
Like two someoneâs lived there if the two toothbrushes in Hawksâ bathroom were anything to go by. The additional clothes that lay around the bedroom. The multiple phone chargers, the extra food in the fridge, the two house slippers at the door.
Dabi wonders if there were ever HPSC people who came around sometimes, and if they checked out the place, what theyâd think of the changes. If theyâd scrunch their noses and try their best to ignore the additions, if theyâd casually imply that Hawks needed to get
rid of the additions, if theyâd go ahead and call for someone to clean it out.
If they did, then Hawks must have ignored them quite refutely considering none of the changes ever changed /back./
If they did, then Hawks must have ignored them quite refutely considering none of the changes ever changed /back./
âMaybe someone should get you a T.V. series started,â Hawks said, like it would ever be a possibility after all the shit heâs done to be a /home renovator with a T.V. series./
Dabi indulges the thought though. ââVillain Renoâs 101: What All Villain Lairs Need.â
Dabi indulges the thought though. ââVillain Renoâs 101: What All Villain Lairs Need.â
A chuckle bubbles out of Hawksâ throat before he turns his attention from the sky back to Dabi. His chin presses into the bone of Dabiâs shoulder, and Dabi gazes down at him, lets their noses brush and once again admires just how pretty Hawks is.
Relaxed and happy, genuinely happy, not whatever hero-bullshit he puts on for the media and fans in the streets.
[++++ TWT limit again, sorry
]
[++++ TWT limit again, sorry

Hawksâ feathers come back around, and tucked between a mass of coverts thereâs a bottle of Yamazaki 12 Whisky, and in a couple other feathers hang two whiskey tumblers.
âYour favorite,â Hawks says, snatching the bottle from the air as Dabi takes the two tumblers.
âYour favorite,â Hawks says, snatching the bottle from the air as Dabi takes the two tumblers.
They pull away from one another just enough to open the bottle.
âIt is,â Dabi says. Thereâs that hope again creeping up his throat, that wants to gush and wants to rush forward and take Hawksâ face in his hands and smoosh his lips between his own like it would be their last kiss
âIt is,â Dabi says. Thereâs that hope again creeping up his throat, that wants to gush and wants to rush forward and take Hawksâ face in his hands and smoosh his lips between his own like it would be their last kiss
(Itâs not the last.)
(The last though, isnât too far away.)
(The last though, isnât too far away.)
Dabi wishes he didnât feel that encroaching ending. Growing closer and closer, and maybe itâs not the end, but something is waiting in the near future. The largest change of them all, and Dabi feels it right underneath his ribcage but fucking hopes and wishes, that itâs not the
end.
So he leaves his hope simmering, and leaves it tucked with the box he has. Heâll present his hope to Hawks, and thatâll have to be enough.
So he leaves his hope simmering, and leaves it tucked with the box he has. Heâll present his hope to Hawks, and thatâll have to be enough.
The whiskey, as itâs poured into the tumblers, from the bottle in Hawksâ hand looks just like the color of Hawksâ eyes, even with the flickering of the blue flames around them. It reminds Dabi of the first time he met Hawks, and how he just held a blue flame
in the air between them to light Hawksâ faceââso he could see every lie in his expression. And how beautifully he had lied. How beautifully he continues to lie too. To the Commission. To the world about his job, and about his previous jobs: about the list of bodies in Hawksâ HPSC
file.
Dabi presses one of the tumblers into Hawksâ awaiting hand as he puts the whiskey down on the ground, near their food. Hawks takes the tumbler and raises it to the air.
Dabiâs lips lift in a smile, to mirror Hawksâ own, and follows Hawksâ movement so
Dabi presses one of the tumblers into Hawksâ awaiting hand as he puts the whiskey down on the ground, near their food. Hawks takes the tumbler and raises it to the air.
Dabiâs lips lift in a smile, to mirror Hawksâ own, and follows Hawksâ movement so
both of their glasses hover beside one another, but not quite touching.
âTo us?â Hawks says.
âTo us,â Dabi echoes, and they clink the glasses, before swallowing the liquid likened to the ichor of gods.
âTo us?â Hawks says.
âTo us,â Dabi echoes, and they clink the glasses, before swallowing the liquid likened to the ichor of gods.
Thereâs a cinnamon taste that wets Dabiâs tongue, and stays there long after heâs finished his own glass. Thatâll stay there long into the night.
He swirls the leftover liquid in the glass and turns his thoughts to the box in his pocket, and the blue topaz studs sitting quietly
He swirls the leftover liquid in the glass and turns his thoughts to the box in his pocket, and the blue topaz studs sitting quietly
in their pillow.
He may or may not have rummaged around with Giran for some off-the-booksââas if theyâre not always off-the-booksââsort of jobs so heâd be able to buy the earrings. The MLA had plenty of money to mooch from Re-Destro, if the upgrades in their own
He may or may not have rummaged around with Giran for some off-the-booksââas if theyâre not always off-the-booksââsort of jobs so heâd be able to buy the earrings. The MLA had plenty of money to mooch from Re-Destro, if the upgrades in their own
uniforms and clothing werenât enough to go by, but heâd wanted this to be one of the things he bought on his own.
Heâd not done that for as long as he can remember. Buying things for himself.
Heâd not done that for as long as he can remember. Buying things for himself.
After waking up in that goddamn hospital years earlier, after going back to the place he called home, to find out that no. It wasnât a home at all.
He'd left that place as the newly created Dabi, but years later wished heâd stopped to see his mother,
He'd left that place as the newly created Dabi, but years later wished heâd stopped to see his mother,
wished to see if she was even still there in that wood burning house. Wishes for a moment he could have warned her not to build a home of wood with fire users under its roof.
He remembers as a kid, standing at a storefront, with Rei standing behind him, her small palm over his shoulder. She kneeled down in front of him, brushed the hair out of his face, and placed a few bills in his even smaller hands, to let him go inside the store and buy the toy he
wanted. As a kid it was thrilling to feel like /he/ was buying something for himself. His first bought thing.
Then, turning his back on that home, on his mother, on his younger siblings, he lived the following years not expecting or hoping to leave a piece of him in this world.
Then, turning his back on that home, on his mother, on his younger siblings, he lived the following years not expecting or hoping to leave a piece of him in this world.
He would die, and that would be it, he would leave his ashes on the ground, hoping that those ashes would be enough for the world, for his fatherâfor the people he once called /family/âto see the ruin that had been caused due to the society of heroics
and the hell that made of him.
Dabi aches then to reach into his opposite pocket and pull out a cigarette. So he does. He drops the earring box again into its small pocketed home, and pulls out a cigarette.
Dabi aches then to reach into his opposite pocket and pull out a cigarette. So he does. He drops the earring box again into its small pocketed home, and pulls out a cigarette.
He lights it, but holds the cigarette against his lips, pulling in smoke for a solid few seconds. He hopes that in the couple moments he holds it there that some of his courage would gather itself. Because seriously, whatâs with him?
Heâs just giving him earrings.
Heâs just giving him earrings.
Just giving /Hawks,/ of all people, /earrings./ In the back of his mind though it feels like the end of giving Hawks his heart and telling him to carry it with him wherever he goes.
âWhatâs that one song?â Hawks asks, dragging him from his internal crisis.
âWhatâs that one song?â Hawks asks, dragging him from his internal crisis.
âWhich song?â Dabi asks as he flicks ashes off the cigarette, then drags in another clutch of smoke into his mouth.
Hawks hums thoughtfully. âThe one about cigarettes and coffee, you know, the one we play on my stereo sometimes.â
Hawks hums thoughtfully. âThe one about cigarettes and coffee, you know, the one we play on my stereo sometimes.â
âCigarettes and coffee,â Dabi says, looking at Hawks with raised eyebrows.
âYeah, the one about cigarettes and coffeeâsomething about it being early in the morning.â
Dabiâs smile is wiry as he says, âThatâs the name of the song. âCigarettes and Coffee.ââ
âYeah, the one about cigarettes and coffeeâsomething about it being early in the morning.â
Dabiâs smile is wiry as he says, âThatâs the name of the song. âCigarettes and Coffee.ââ
âI think we should petition to name it âCigarettes and Whiskey,â make it our whole thing. You know?â
"Didn't take you as a romantic," Dabi says.
"Didn't take you as a romantic," Dabi says.
Hawks takes the cigarette from Dabiâs fingers, mirroring Dabiâs own actions. Dabi wonders if Hawks always had the potential for vices like smoking, or if thatâs just part of Dabiâs own influence.
"Maybe I wasn't," Hawks replies, breathing the smoke back out.
"Maybe I wasn't," Hawks replies, breathing the smoke back out.
/Maybe I am with you,/ Dabi hears in the silence.
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[++++ TWT limit]
In the brief quiet, with Hawks looking away, Dabi takes the box out, rolling it between his hands. His tongue shifts in his mouth like heâs rolling pebbles and stones around in his mouth, before he says, âI have something for you.â
Hawks stares at the box. Then stares at Dabi. Dabi can see the brief moment of confusionââheâs not startled, thankfully. Almost everything in the beginning seemed to set him on edge as he tried to figure out the inâs and outâs of their relationship,
and Dabi knew too well that Hawks hadnât been in a relationship before. Or at least not a relationship that went beyond fucking and sex and the occasional morning text. Gifts werenât a part of any equation Hawks had been a part of before. Not the meaningful gift that is.
Any gift given to Hawks before had probably been to garner more attention from the No. 2 Hero.
Dabi already has Hawksâ attention. He doesnât need to do gift giving to pull that off.
But, heâs the first then, to hand over a piece of himself that doesnât want anything in return.
Dabi already has Hawksâ attention. He doesnât need to do gift giving to pull that off.
But, heâs the first then, to hand over a piece of himself that doesnât want anything in return.
That thought simpers the heaviness in his mouth and the way his chest is trying to gape open and leak and speed into handing the earrings over to Hawks.
âA gift?â Hawks asks. He presses the butt of the cigarette to the ground, letting it die. âWhatâs the occasion?â
âA gift?â Hawks asks. He presses the butt of the cigarette to the ground, letting it die. âWhatâs the occasion?â
Dabi waves to their whiskey glasses. âUs.â
Hawks eyes are sharp as they look at the box. Sharp in the questioning wayânot in the âIâm going to throw this box over the rail,â sort of way. That had to be a good sign, at least.
Hawks eyes are sharp as they look at the box. Sharp in the questioning wayânot in the âIâm going to throw this box over the rail,â sort of way. That had to be a good sign, at least.
âHere,â Dabi says, and he places the little white box into Hawks now empty and awaiting hands.
âYou gonna give me a hint or anything?â Hawks asks.
âNah, thatâd defeat the point of a surprise,â Dabi says, feigning any fear for confidence.
âYou gonna give me a hint or anything?â Hawks asks.
âNah, thatâd defeat the point of a surprise,â Dabi says, feigning any fear for confidence.
Hawks continues to survey the box: taking in the rounded corners, the black velvet, before he takes the box from Dabiâs hands. The tips of his fingers brush just over Dabiâs palm, briefly at the staples of his wrists, before he cocoons the box in both of his own hands. Dabi
canât help but tap at the ground briefly with his foot while Hawks looks over the box.
Dabiâs been a patient man for several years now for his revenge escapade but for some reasonâfor every reasonâHawks discerning a seemingly innocent box with his raptor-like attention throws
Dabiâs been a patient man for several years now for his revenge escapade but for some reasonâfor every reasonâHawks discerning a seemingly innocent box with his raptor-like attention throws
his impatience into hyperdrive.
Heâs quiet. One of the nearby candles flicks and grows higher with the rush of a breeze, and Hawksâ hair scatters across his face and forehead, while Dabi grips at the fabric of his sweats.
Heâs quiet. One of the nearby candles flicks and grows higher with the rush of a breeze, and Hawksâ hair scatters across his face and forehead, while Dabi grips at the fabric of his sweats.
With a simple flick of his pointer finger, Hawks has the box open.
And there they are, the blue topaz studs, in their little pillow. gleaming like the eyes of a snake.
Hawks draws the finger that opened the box over the small little gems, almost cautiously touching their
And there they are, the blue topaz studs, in their little pillow. gleaming like the eyes of a snake.
Hawks draws the finger that opened the box over the small little gems, almost cautiously touching their
pea-sized shapes.
âPlease donât tell me you killed someone for these,â Hawks says, but thereâs a grin on his face when he looks back at Dabi. The rock in his chest dissipates at the sight.
âPlease donât tell me you killed someone for these,â Hawks says, but thereâs a grin on his face when he looks back at Dabi. The rock in his chest dissipates at the sight.
âWell,â Dabi shrugs, shifting so his shoulder brushes against Hawksâ nearest wing, âIâm not going to use /your/ own card to buy you shit.â
Though, it should be noted that he has, on many occasions, just used Hawksâ card to buy shit, all of which Dabi took great pleasure in knowing Hawks had to somehow write off their lube purchases in his Commission reports as âwork related expenses.â Dabi sends a silent
middle-finger to the bastard who has to look at those reports.
Dabi watches then, enamored, as Hawks takes out the red earrings from his ears, places them in Dabiâs hands, and he slowly puts the blue ones on.
Dabi watches then, enamored, as Hawks takes out the red earrings from his ears, places them in Dabiâs hands, and he slowly puts the blue ones on.
Itâs like watching a ritual, the speed at which Hawks moves: delicately, methodically. His tongue pokes out a little as he presses the last earring in. His wings are still even as the wind pushes through them.
The blue topaz shines brilliantly against the small flames around them. They hang from Hawksâ ears like little treasures.
âYou look good in blue,â Dabi says, all too pleased at how well the blue matches the blue of his flames. He knew they did when he first saw them.
âYou look good in blue,â Dabi says, all too pleased at how well the blue matches the blue of his flames. He knew they did when he first saw them.
âYouâre just saying that because theyâre /your/ color,â he's smiling as he says it though.
Dabi hums. Dabi moves again so heâs leaning back on one hand, but with the other he stretches forward and runs a finger over the shell of Hawksâ ear.
Dabi hums. Dabi moves again so heâs leaning back on one hand, but with the other he stretches forward and runs a finger over the shell of Hawksâ ear.
His wings shake with a nearly indiscernible shiver but stretch open, one settling around Dabi.
He canât take his eyes away as a soft blush appears over Hawksâ cheeks, rosey with his freckles. He brushes the pads of his first and middle finger just over the singular stud, and tugs gently at it until Hawks lets out a quiet sigh into the night.
âThereâs a part of me that you donât have to hide,â Dabi says, thinking of the days when Hawks looked all too grumpy to have to tug up the collar of his hero jacket to cover the hickies on his neck. Hawks liked having the secrecy of them on his skin,
liked tucking that piece of Dabi close to his chest, but he could see when they were with the League and with the other MLA cohorts, how heâs take off his jacket and wear some of Dabiâs shirts insteadânone-too subtly showing off the markings on his skin, tilting his head more
when the occasion arose.
Hawks covers Dabiâs hand and fingers with one of his own, and he leans forward and whispers against Dabiâs ear, through his dark hair, âMaybe you can wear my red ones then?â
Hawks covers Dabiâs hand and fingers with one of his own, and he leans forward and whispers against Dabiâs ear, through his dark hair, âMaybe you can wear my red ones then?â
The feeling that rushes in Dabiâs chest forces the crack of his ribcage to open more. Cracking and breaking in the erosion of Hawksâ existence. The sound of Hawksâ voice. The hope. The wish and desireââand to most, Dabi
might have appeared to be the more possessive of the two in their relationship, and maybe sometimes he is, in more obvious ways like throwing his arm over Hawksâ shoulder when theyâre at MLA meetings, pressing kisses to his cheek while whispering in his ear.
[++++ TWT limit]
[++++ TWT limit]
But while Dabi did that, Hawks would spread his wings more around the two of them, encasing them, and give sharp smiles to people who tried to approach.
His little bird was more raptor-likeâmore hawks-likeâin those moments and sent flares of unnamed emotions up Dabiâs spine.
His little bird was more raptor-likeâmore hawks-likeâin those moments and sent flares of unnamed emotions up Dabiâs spine.
Dabi huffs but he turns his head more towards Hawks so heâs nosing at Hawksâ opposite ear, at the earring he wasnât playing with a second ago.
âThereâs no way thatâs sanitary,â Dabi says, responding to Hawksâ offer about wearing the red earrings, but he still looks down
âThereâs no way thatâs sanitary,â Dabi says, responding to Hawksâ offer about wearing the red earrings, but he still looks down
at the red studs and rolls them between his fingers.
Hawks pulls back and gives him a deadpan look. He gives him that unblinking look that often sends a thrill down each notch of Dabiâs spinal cord. Right now the look just says, 'Are you serious?'
Hawks pulls back and gives him a deadpan look. He gives him that unblinking look that often sends a thrill down each notch of Dabiâs spinal cord. Right now the look just says, 'Are you serious?'
âDabs,â Hawks says, âWe fucked on a rooftop with Jeanistâs body in a bag nearby. I think weâve moved past being unsanitary at this point.â
Dabiâs smirk is salacious as he puts both of the earrings onto his pierced earlobes.
Dabiâs smirk is salacious as he puts both of the earrings onto his pierced earlobes.
Heâd thought a while back about letting them grow out, but he sends a quiet thanks to his past self that heâd continued to put earrings in them often enough that theyâd remain piercing-ready.
âWe did do that,â Dabi says, earrings now fixed to his ears. He leans back again, with his palms pressing into the fleece of the blanket underneath him. âYou looked so pretty too, with your faceââ
One of Hawksâ hands is over his mouth in an instant.
One of Hawksâ hands is over his mouth in an instant.
Worth it. That entire night had been worth it, to be quite honest, if the bruises on Hawksâ knees and elbows the following day were anything to go by.
Hawks grouches, âI canât with you sometimes.â
Hawks grouches, âI canât with you sometimes.â
âYou canât pretend you didnât like it,â Dabi says against the palm of Hawksâ hands. Thereâs the slight taste of whiskey coating his hand. His breath, hot, falls over Hawksâ fingers, and he watches Hawksâ face turn a bright and beautiful shade of red. If it hadnât been obvious
already that Hawksâ was hot and bothered, the puffing and shaking of his feathers would be hitting the nail on the head.
Hawks jerks his hand back, turning his face away until heâs pressing it into his shoulderâlike he still had his hero jacket on,
Hawks jerks his hand back, turning his face away until heâs pressing it into his shoulderâlike he still had his hero jacket on,
like the collar was flipped up and he could hide away for a moment.
As if Dabi didnât want to capture and claim all of his expressions as his own. âOh my god,â Hawks grumbles, âhow are you so horny all the time?â
As if Dabi didnât want to capture and claim all of his expressions as his own. âOh my god,â Hawks grumbles, âhow are you so horny all the time?â
Dabi lays back, falling across the blanket, before crossing his feet over each other. He folds one arm behind his head, leaving the other stretched out as an invitation. âAsk yourself that question, birdie. That time on the balcony was /all/ you.â
With a puff of air, Hawks turns his head back to look over his shoulder, through the window several of his feathers were making from his wings. The red of his feathers frame the gold of his eyes, make them brighter somehow, like fire. The wing stretches away so he can look down
at Dabi, look at the red little jewels on Dabiâs ears.
âRed looks good on you too,â Hawks says. His smile is sly, teasing, knowing exactly what he does to Dabi.
âRed looks good on you too,â Hawks says. His smile is sly, teasing, knowing exactly what he does to Dabi.
âWe already knew that,â Dabi replies. He tugs Hawks down into his open arm, an oof escaping Hawksâ mouth with the shift. He moves and rearranges his wings so theyâre more comfortably sat as Hawksâ weasels even closer to Dabi, arm stretched over his chest.
Hawksâ noses at Dabiâs ear, at the earring, content where they are.
âThank you,â Hawks whispers and the sound is a quiet breath to his eardrum.
Dabi hums, tilts his head to press a kiss over Hawksâ head, catching some of his bangs in the kiss. âNo need to thank me, angel.â
âThank you,â Hawks whispers and the sound is a quiet breath to his eardrum.
Dabi hums, tilts his head to press a kiss over Hawksâ head, catching some of his bangs in the kiss. âNo need to thank me, angel.â
A quiet falls again, and Dabi hears Hawks' content sigh just over the flickering flames.
âThe foodâs going to get cold,â Hawks says, but he makes no move to sit up.
âLet it,â Dabi replies. âWe can always heat it up later.â
âThe foodâs going to get cold,â Hawks says, but he makes no move to sit up.
âLet it,â Dabi replies. âWe can always heat it up later.â
//// END ///
i'll be posting this on ao3 in a bit as well <3
i'll be posting this on ao3 in a bit as well <3