Chapter Text
The smooth black polish embellishing his nails glinted in the set lights as Hawks examined them, patiently waiting for the makeup artist to complete her touch ups before their next shots. He whispered a thanks as she scurried off, leaving him alone and standing out against the blank background.
His dark jeans were ripped and a studded belt threaded through the loops. Several rings adorned his fingers, some connected with small draped chains, and a silver padlock necklace set hung from his neck. The front of his shirt, sporting the latest popular anime characters from Jujutsu Kaisen, was loosely bunched over the clasp of his belt. He ran a hand through his teased blond locks before focusing on the camera.
Hawks had been modeling long enough that he didn’t need much direction for posing and general positioning. He knew his angles, how to show off both the product and himself.
But his knowledge and confidence flew out the window the second he was joined by another model.
Not that he had issues working with other models, no. It wasn’t that. He actually liked working with others. It was just this particular model. He’d known he was coming, had been told his name. Dabi. It wasn’t one he recognized.
But the face. The face of the model he definitely recognized.
He’d never forget that scarred face.
He was the one who gave them to the other man after all.
Touya.
Dabi must’ve been the name he modeled under. Hawks understood, he wasn’t using his real name either. Which meant Tou—Dabi hadn’t known it would be him, Keigo, here. The blond grew taut, anxiety sprinting through his veins as he waited for the other man to recognize him at any second.
Those familiar blue eyes settled on him, sending Hawks’ heart fluttering like a caged bird, and—
Nothing. No spark of recognition. No change in his lackluster expression. No indication that Dabi knew exactly who he was. Nothing. Only a bored once over and a nod of acknowledgment before the black-haired man was given his clothing line up for the day and Hawks was asked to change again.
Their next shots would be together.
Hawks forcibly shoved down the taste of stomach acid from bubbling in his throat. He’d have called in sick if he knew he’d be shooting with his childhood bully.
Whatever. Too late now.
The two men stood shoulder to shoulder, though Dabi was about an inch taller. Despite their similar getup, they were practically opposites; Dabi the dark, borderline menacing man with alluring eyes dancing with flames, and Hawks the lithe blond with a light aura but edgy aesthetic and dangerously seductive golden gaze.
Their photographer, an explosive ash blond man with a full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm exposed thanks to his black tank, glared at the two models with a smirk. “You two could at least act like you like each other. C’mon, look less stiff,” he groused rather ironically in his seemingly unfriendly tone, gesturing with the hand not on the camera.
Hawks chose to hide the bottom half of his face with a hand, the other clasped on the opposite bicep, one of his signature poses that accented his hand jewelry. He angled himself towards Dabi slightly; the scarred man mirrored his angle, though he hooked a thumb in his belt loop and curled the other arm behind his head, tilting his face to look down at the camera.
Hawks was so focused on the shutter of the camera and the blood rushing in his ears that he didn’t realize their photographer had asked them to change poses again.
“Get your head out of the sky, Birdie,” Bakugou clicked his tongue to get Hawks’ attention.
The blond model spared his unfortunate coworker a glance, seeing a glint of something he didn’t like swimming in those blue orbs.
•~•~•
Dabi wasn’t too keen on working with other models he hadn’t previously met. Sometimes they couldn’t get past their nerves or would obviously trip over their own thoughts and words at the sight of the long-healed scars on his arms, neck, and lower face.
People were always torn between wanting to ask about them, saying they’re sorry, or ignoring them altogether in hopes of not being rude.
It annoyed Dabi to no end. They’re just scars. No big deal.
However, he wasn’t complaining about the hot blond he’d been paired with today. He could tell their opposite demeanors would work well together and he thanked whoever had matched them for their service. Dabi was already planning on asking the blond—Hawks?—out after the shoot.
The other man was very much in his own head for the first pose and Dabi assumed it was the usual with his appearance.
When Blasty, their photographer, told them to change it up, a smirk grew on his lips. He’d make his first subtle move here. Well, maybe not subtle...