Work Text:
The fluorescent, off-white light of Hawks’ phone shuddered into the city’s smog as he perched on the looming skeleton of a building long ago sacrificed to the tyranny of the winds and rain. The time— 2:01 am— blared into the night like a warning sign.
For perhaps the fifth time that hour, Hawks studied the newest message from an unknown number.
UNKNOWN: abandoned bldg across frm usual warehouse. 1 am (5:06:45)
You: where are you (1: 14: 12)
At first, Hawks had always followed up the messages with a “who’s this” text, but after the first few sarcastic replies from Dabi, he had gradually given up. Even if it was someone else, he was confident in his ability to fight them off if need be.
Hawks stretched his wings with a sigh as he peered below himself. The distance to the ground would have been dizzying to anyone else, but he had long ago gotten used to the blur of streetlights and crawl of people hundreds of feet below.
It was uncharacteristic of Dabi to be late. In the three months that Hawks had known him, he had only been late twice, and even then, only by fifteen minutes.
Not to say that Hawks was worried, of course. He wasn’t. Not at all. Dabi could choke, for all he cared, and the Commission made it painfully clear that when Dabi inevitably did, Hawks would be the one holding the rope.
Hawks wasn’t concerned about him. No. He was just… curious. About where Dabi was. And if he was okay. For purely professional reasons, of course, never mind the begrudging, sarcastic camaraderie that they had forged during their meetings.
Hawks wouldn’t quite call them friends, but he had to admit that they were closer now than they had been. He still didn’t know Dabi’s real name or anything about the villain, really, but at their last meeting, after Dabi had finished explaining the League’s latest plan, they had spent almost a half hour debating the best way to prepare chicken.
For reasons Hawks didn’t quite understand, he pressed his palms over his eyes and groaned in an effort to quell the flush that spread across his face like a forest fire. He was positive that if he actually took the time to look into the odd flicker in his chest whenever he thought about the villain, it would uncover some sort of attachment that he definitely could not afford to read into.
Hawks nearly jumped off the metal skeleton as soon as his phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN: where are u im at the front of the building
Hawks scoffed and sent a few feathers hurtling down towards the bottom of the building’s skeleton.
If Dabi made Hawks wait for an hour, he could deal with a quick flight.
Hawks didn’t even spare the villain a glance as his feathers placed Dabi next to him on the skyscraper’s skeleton.
Dabi’s glare was murderous. “I thought I told you—”
Hawks yawned exaggeratedly. “You know, I have to get my beauty sleep, Dabi. You can’t just keep me waiting here for an hour.”
Dabi scoffed. “Like you need beauty sleep, birdie.”
Hawks froze as his face all but caught on fire. “I’m sorry, what?”
Dabi cleared his throat loudly. “League business. Couldn’t get around it. Meant to let you know that it ran long and you didn’t need to come.”
Hawks’ feathers bristled. “Didn’t need to come— you let me wait here for an hour and then you finally decide— you couldn’t have shot me a text or something?”
“You could have just gone home after I didn’t show,” Dabi said.
“Well, you obviously don’t trust me,” Hawks snapped as he rolled his eyes, “so how exactly am I going to talk to the League if I skip out on meetings?”
“Why are you so eager to get to the League, anyway?”
Hawks gritted his teeth. “Because. I can’t exactly be too much help with all these little chores you’re giving me. I want to be able to help the League to the best of my ability.”
“Mhm,” Dabi drawled as Hawks’ blood ran cold. “Sure.”
Did he suspect something?
“So if going to these little meetings isn’t enough, how else am I supposed to gain your trust, Mr. High And Mighty?” Hawks snapped. “You know, I could just find some other way in to the League.”
Dabi shrugged, apparently unfazed. “You won’t. Twice and Spinner hate recruiting, Shigaraki can’t be bothered to do it, and Himiko loves birds, and I’m sure you know what that means.”
Hawks shuddered as the pages in Toga Himiko’s file about her victims resurfaced in his mind’s eye as their blood-drained faces loom in horror from the bone-white pages. “Yeah.”
Dabi halted Hawks’ wonderings with a shrug. “I don’t dislike you, you know.”
Hawks blinked. From Dabi, that was almost as much as a declaration of friendship.
For a second, before Hawks reminded himself that it was utterly ridiculous, he thought that a crimson blush had spread across the unscarred portions of Dabi’s face. That was ridiculous, though, and the color was probably just a reflection from Hawks’ vermillion wings.
He composed himself quickly and cursed the heat that spread across his own face. “Well, it certainly seems like it, since you’ve never actually introduced me to any of the members of the League. I—”
“And I’m not going to,” Dabi leaned back as far as he could without falling. “Not until you tell me why you want to join the league.”
The moon filtered through the clouds like a secret everyone knew but no one would admit as Hawks’ golden eyes widened.
As soon as he recovered from his momentary shock, Hawks stiffened. “I’ve already explained this,” he seethed from between gritted teeth. “They stole my childhood, refused my right to a chance—”
“And you’ve said that over and over,” Dabi rolled his eyes. “How exactly do you expect to be able to meet the rest of the League if you just keep spitting out the same line?”
The moon grinned grotesquely down at Hawks as if the universe were playing some massive joke. Honestly, knowing his luck, it probably was.
Of course. Of-fucking-course Dabi wanted Hawks to spit out some more detailed reason for wanting the join the league, and of-fucking-course Hawks would have to give it to him.
He briefly considered making something up, but abandoned that thought almost as quickly as it arose. Something told him that Dabi would be able to see through that. Even if he didn’t immediately, Hawks wasn’t convinced that the truth about his family was kept as secure a secret as the Commission wanted. The last thing Hawks needed was for Dabi to find out that Hawks lied to him.
“So, birdie,” Dabi said, “I’ll ask again. Why do you want to join the League?”
“Fine. Okay.” Hawks exhaled sharply through his nose and fought to keep his tone as sharp and clinical as he could.
Distantly, a voice in the back of his head muttered that the emotion Hawks felt would be more believable if shown, but at this point, the only thing that he was resigned to was that there was no way in hell that he was crying in front of Dabi.
“When I was a little kid, I rescued some people and the commission yanked me up. Simple as that. My father was dead and my mom was a thief, so by all accounts I shouldn’t resent them for taking me away from there.” Hawks said.
“But you do.” Dabi raised an eyebrow.
Hawks glared at Dabi, though his gaze didn’t hold any heat. “I do and I don’t. My mother was a terrible person. I know that. I don’t miss her. But I had friends, you know? I’ve made new ones, but… I can’t talk to them about anything. Hell, I can’t actually act like myself to anyone, anymore.”
“So, then, little bird,” Dabi said slowly, “who does know the real you, then?”
Hawks’ pained, humorless laugh echoed off of the metal skeleton that dug into his back and seemed to compress around him. “Hell if I know.”
Dabi glanced in Hawks’ direction silently, his sapphire eyes lacking their usual luster, as if encouraging him to continue.
Hawks wrapped his arms tightly around his chest as he puffed out a long sigh. “I didn’t have anyone to talk to for years. Years. My whole persona is this cheery, talkative guy, but when people get past that…” he shrugged aimlessly.
Dabi nodded slowly.
Hawks leaned back against the cold metal of the abandoned skyscraper’s skeleton. “I reconnected with one of my childhood friends a few weeks ago. Guess she’s the only one I can kind of open up to, because she knew me when I was young. Even then, I…”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as his voice warbled. “I just… fuck, I’m just— I want a world where I can just sit. Relax. Don’t have to worry about a decision that wasn’t mine. Don’t have to worry about pretending to be this person that I’m not. Don’t have sit on top of a fucking building in an attempt to fix this shit.”
Hawks’ breathing steadied as he dropped his gaze back down to the empty road below. His little ramble was more true than Dabi knew.
Dabi.
Who was still there, and privy to Hawks’ little breakdown.
Fuck.
Hawks’ gaze shot over to his silent companion, whose unflinching eyes were still fixed on Hawks.
Through the thick blanket of smog that smothered the jet black sky, the reflections of ash-grey stars freckled Dabi’s cerulean eyes.
As his mind finally managed to sprint up to his mouth, Hawks shoved himself upwards haphazardly. This was bad. This was— this was really fucking bad. He’d done it this time, hadn’t he? The man who was too fast for his own good had finally—
Dabi’s gaze slid back over to the spindling, half-build skeleton of a building that stood across from the one that Hawks had decided to perch on for the night. His expression could best be described as… pensive.
Pensive wasn’t murderous hatred. Pensive wasn’t fury. Most importantly, pensive wasn’t suspicion, so by all accounts this ought to have been a good thing, but for the life of him, Hawks couldn’t manage to steady his racing pulse or brush away the cold sweat that dripped down the back of his neck.
“So, if Hawks isn’t you, what should I call you, then?” Dabi drawled as he cast an almost nervous glance in Hawks’ direction.
If Keigo was a wiser man, he would have recognized the sympathy he felt as soon as he noticed Dabi’s expression and put a stop to it then and there.
If Keigo was a wiser man, he would have lightened the mood with a joke, a pun, an anecdote, anything to kill this new side to whatever relationship he had managed to forge with Dabi.
If Keigo was a wiser man, he would have kept his mouth shut.
“Takami,” Keigo said, “Takami Keigo.”
Dabi lifted his chin as his catlike eyes glinted in the hazy light. “Takami Keigo.”
Keigo didn’t know who had leaned in first, or who had first put their arms around the other. All he knew was that somehow, some way, he was desperately kissing Dabi.
Keigo hadn’t even known that he had wanted the kiss until now, when Dabi’s rough lips pressed against his and Dabi’s hands ran through Keigo’s windswept hair. Dabi’s tongue pressed against Keigo’s lips and Keigo— no, Hawks— froze.
Keigo wanted, but Hawks…
Hawks pulled back from the kiss gently. “I don’t…”
“That’s okay.” Dabi said softly, more softly than he had any right to.
Hawks cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck as he summoned the strength for Hawks’ trademark, booming voice. “So… Dabi. What should I call you?”
Dabi hesitated for long enough that Hawks nearly brushed the question off with some sort of joke, like he ought to have done before he decided that it was a good idea to kiss his sole connection to the League of Villains.
Oh, he was going to regret this so much in the morning. Still, it wasn’t morning yet, and Hawks was consumed by the glow of the moon as it reflected off of this new version of Dabi.
“Well… I’d tell Takami that he can call me Touya.”
Keigo swallowed hard, his thoughts quelled. “Oh. Is there a surname that goes with that, by any chance?”
Dabi— Touya— studied his boots. “Nothing I’d want you to call me.”
“Oh.” Keigo breathed. “Touya, then.”
The name awakened long repressed memories of a short, thin boy with hair as red as Hawks’ wings, but Keigo banished that thought as soon as it reared its ugly head.
Touya was a common name, and besides, the Touya of Keigo’s childhood was not just quirkless, but dead. Had died in an accident a few years after Keigo was taken by the Hero Commission, according to Fuyumi.
“Takami.” Touya leaned forward, close enough to make his intentions clear, but plenty far enough that Keigo could easily turn his head away if he wanted to.
Keigo didn’t hesitate before he put a hand on Touya’s cheek to guide him closer.
And now Touya was kissing him.
It was leagues away from their first kiss— this one was soft and gentle, like a breath of fresh air to contrast earlier’s desperate flurry of desire and regret.
Keigo smiled softly as soon as Touya pulled away. “You can call me Keigo.”
Touya’s eyes widened. “Keigo?”
“If you want.” Keigo rubbed the back of his neck. “Since I can call you Touya.”
“Keigo.” Touya repeated slowly.
The silence around them grew heavy, like one of the rocks skipped through one of the pools Keigo had so loved as a child. Not to say that the silence was uncomfortable, no. It carried a comfort that Keigo had missed. The closest thing that he had found to this companionable silence was with Fuyumi, in the few conversations that they had in the time since they had reunited.
The memory of Fuyumi, of course, dragged memories from the corners of his mind that Keigo didn’t want to think about, and certainly not while pressed against another Touya’s side.
Keigo stretched his arms above his head. “Hey, Touya?”
Touya tensed. “Yeah?”
Despite his best efforts, Keigo failed to suppress his grin. “I was just wondering. You know, since you trust me at least a little bit now, if I could meet Shigaraki?”
Touya rolled his eyes and smiled. “You have a one track mind, pretty bird.”
“Pretty bird?” Keigo squawked.
Touya’s face flushed. “Don’t you have patrol in the mornings or some shit?”
Keigo waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, but right now I’m a little more concerned with the fact that you apparently think I’m pretty?”
“You’re a narcissist.” Touya grumbled.
“So you think I’m pretty?” Keigo batted his eyes dramatically.
“You’re pretty, alright? And I need to get back before Himiko— I just need to go.” Touya said.
Keigo grinned. “Yeah, okay. You want some help getting down?”
Touya scowled. “You’re the worst.”
“If I’m the worst, then why did you—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” Touya snapped. “And yes. Fine.”
Keigo dropped Touya at the front of the building as gently as he could manage before taking off in flight back to his apartment himself.
He had barely shrugged off his jacket before he got a call from the agent of the Commission that most commonly corresponded with him after a rendezvous with Dabi. Their meetings usually lasted an hour, sometimes more, so Hawks supposed that it made sense that the agent was calling now, regardless of how much his stomach sunk at the deafening chime of his ringtone.
His heart in his throat, Hawks picked up the phone. “Evening.”
The agent’s voice was as clinical as always. “Good evening, Hawks. Any new information?”
Hawks dropped into his chair like a stone in the water. He knew exactly what he had to do.
Assuming that Touya was Dabi’s real name, the Commission could surely find records of a boy with a flame quirk and the name Touya, right? They could find out about his past, find a weakness. It was one of the most potentially beneficial bits of information that Hawks had gathered thus far, and yet—
“No.”
“Nothing?” The agent echoed in disbelief.
“Nothing.” Hawks confirmed as his stomach somehow sunk even further. “The meeting was called off. I meant to inform you, but…”
“I see.” The agent said. “Next time, be more on top of things, Hawks.”
Hawks nodded, though he knew the agent couldn’t see him. “Yes, sir. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The call shuddered into silence as the darkness of Hawks’ apartment constricted around him.
He had managed to convince himself on the flight back to his apartment that he didn't have any feelings for Dabi. Couldn’t, if he knew what was good for him. But regardless of how much he lied to himself under the watchful eye of the moon, he couldn’t force himself to reveal Dabi’s identity.
And that, more than anything, terrified him.