Chapter Text
Quirk History was a mandatory subject in every junior, middle and high school in the world. The course was designed to cover the emergence of quirks, the spread of the virus that is thought to have brought about quirks, the types of quirks that can be found (and their subcategories), and then how to best handle the emergence of your own quirk and how to eventually control it. Quirk theory and quirk practice had replaced archaic classes such as physical education.
Even if you never developed a quirk, quirk theory classes were mandatory at every stage of education, but physical classes could be exchanged for other electives if you chose so in high school. Whether or not the classes were effective was heavily contested and what constituted essential knowledge for teenager similarly so, but the crux of the lessons was this.
Quirks were previously known as Meta Abilities and first manifested in a newborn baby in Qing Qing City, China at the end of the twenty-first century. The original cause of the phenomenon was never identified, subpar scientific and medical knowledge could not narrow the cause before it was too wide-spread to control, but it has been theorised that much like the previous plagues (Black Plague, Spanish Flu, Coronavirus) it was carried originally by vermin and then introduced to the human population where it mutated into their genetic code to be passed along.
It was believed to be the next stage of human evolution.
Quirks generally fell into one of three categories: Emitter type quirks, Transformation type quirks, and Mutation type quirks. Some quirks, such as regeneration quirks, were more common than others. A person could often be identified as a quirk user by medical examination, designed to identify the existence of an extra joint in a person’s pinkie-toe. A person with only one joint was likely to have a quirk. Quirks mostly developed sometime prior to the users fourth birthday, though some users presented with their quirk at birth.
The details of an individual’s quirk were often only known to the individual, it was safer that way, aside from the mandatory overview required on registration documents.
All of this was common knowledge though.
The development of quirks had another impact on human evolution though, one that wasn’t immediately obvious when the first quirks were discovered and not connected to the mutation until almost two decades later.
You see, at the end of the twenty-first century, Japan (and many other countries) faced catastrophic aging populations. In 2014, the estimated population in Japan was 127 million people but by 2087 that number had halved. There were a number of factors that influenced this decrease in child births: rising cost of living, improved life expectancy, decreased fertility rates, among many other identified causes, but the result was the same. Japan’s economy suffered a huge decline as a result, and many of the roles previously filled by salary men were automated.
It wasn’t only caused by people choosing, or needing, to have fewer children though. Increasingly liberal views in the world and the decline of organised religions saw a huge increase in the number of gay or lesbian couples around the world, and, while there were surrogacy and adoption options, it did not provide the natural increase in the population that the economy needed to support increasingly neo-capitalist philosophies.
So, by the end of the twenty-first century when the first quirk emerged, over-work was at an all-time high and there wasn’t any clear evidence that significant changes to working conditions would actually be made to enable the end of the century to compete with the economic security of the beginning of the century. Crime rates had increased as a result of an unstable economy, employment rates were high, but the hours of overtime committed by society at large left little time for anything aside from work.
Quirks were a blessing and a curse.
The crime rates soared when it became easier for offenders to acquire a comfortable lifestyle without years of education and hard work, and new forms of vigilantism started appearing in poorer suburbs to protect their communities from criminals that the police were in no way equipped to handle. It only took two years for new regulations to be introduced to manage quirks, though it took a lot longer until the methods were humane.
And that was without expanding on the All-for-One mess.
It was another five years after this that the first successful and documented male pregnancy occurred. It was hypothesised that if there were pregnancies before this, they did not make it to term. The little girl was delivered in a hospital in Canada via C-section and grew up healthy and strong with a quirk for creating small flurries of snow.
At first, there was a media outcry that obviously the carrier was transsexual and had chosen not to complete their surgery, or a hermaphrodite with functional internal reproductive organs. That had been ugly for everyone involved.
But then there had been another case.
And another.
And another.
And they weren’t related at all, or from similar backgrounds, or even in the same countries. There were a lot of theories that bounced around, but it took time for scientific evidence to catch up, especially when everyone was so invested in learning about quirk development instead.
The first fully comprehensive study was released in 2113 by a biologist, with the assistance of numerous medical doctors, from Sweden and was titled “Reproductive Capabilities of Quirk Users”. It explored, in detail, the biological capabilities of both female and male quirk users to produce compatible reproductive material that would facilitate pregnancy between same-sex partners, and the ability for men to bear children.
Can you guess how quickly a contraceptive pill was released onto the market with 99.7% effectiveness and next to no side effects?
Three months.
And it was made available without a patent around the world, so it was basically free.
All so that men could continue to have as much child-free sex as they wanted with no consequences.
It had prompted the fifth-wave of feminism, led by an incredible woman called Greta Turnham, protesting for changes to be implemented to address consistently inequal rates of domestic violence and sexual assault.
Todoroki Touya knew all of this.
He had received a B+ on the essay that he had submitted in his first year of high school on the topic. He remembered it vividly because his father had burnt the report to a crisp when he failed to deflect a blast that caused second degree burns to his wrist.
Back when he thought that simply being better would stop Endeavor.
That if he could be better, he would be able to protect Shouto.
Protect his mother.
Protect Fuyumi and Natsuo.
He didn’t think that anymore.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was that Touya was well enough versed with the fifth wave of feminism, or at least with the dates, aims, key players and the changes in the world that had prompted it, that he should have been able to form a more coherent mental response to the wordy document that had been placed in front of him after he hadn’t responded to the verbal news.
He could read it fine; it was in plain Japanese. Printed even so he didn’t need to worry about translating doctor’s kanji.
That didn’t make it make any more sense though.
He had been taking contraceptives since he was sixteen, it was strongly encouraged in high school and his father would never have suffered the embarrassment of an unexpected high school pregnancy. That said, he had been a little lazy about taking them consistently after his … accident.
There weren’t exactly people lining up around the block to fuck him. Not when he looked like an extra from a bad zombie flick who had gone a round with a tanning bed and lost.
The thing with Hawks, well … it had been stupid.
Obviously.
It had been how Touya had been getting his giggles while the League was between doomsday plans. The hero clearly thought that either Touya was incredibly gullible, or that his acting skills were actually Oscar worthy. (Spoiler: they were not). To be fair, the spiel that he had given on the warehouse roof all those months ago was well-rehearsed, and probably based on some truth.
He probably did harbour a lot of resentment with the current system, and Touya could empathise with anyone who felt that kids should be allowed to be kids even if their quirks were uniquely designed to make them powerful heroes. He knew that children were being turned into soldiers before they were allowed to vote or drink.
He had seen it in the focused eyes of the students in UA’s class 1-A between the fight at their training camp and the rescue of the small horned girl from that idiot Overhaul.
He had seen it in Shouto.
Resentment towards a broken system didn’t make a villain though, and Hawks didn’t have the stomach to change the system the way that Touya knew that the League wanted to. Hawks didn’t even have the stomach to do what Touya already had, which pretty much amounted to a kidnapping, the mutilation of a few corpses and some civil unrest (maybe a lot of civil unrest). Oh, and a wicked scar on Endeavor’s pretty face. Give him a few more and they’d match.
He had made Hawks as having a secondary agenda as soon as he had seen the man land gracefully on the warehouse roof. A little prying had only confirmed what he already suspected.
Double agents were really better chosen from the numerous heroes whose faces were not on every second billboard in the city, but Touya suspected that Hawks had done something stupid like volunteer for the job. That, combined with the fact that the League would see value in a hero so high in the rankings that the doors of the city probably came off their hinges when they threw themselves open for the man. Touya would, grudgingly, admit that his information had at least been accurate on more than one occasion.
Though the police were always quick on the scene of whatever mayhem they wanted to plan.
Touya had contemplated rolling on the hero and watching as Shigaraki had Toga play with him for a while. It would have been amusing. Especially as Touya, in his prying, had found that the stupid bird seemed to have more than just a fleeting admiration for his father, and anyone with that particular affliction probably deserved to be stabbed a few times.
Except he hadn’t.
Not when he had come back from the first meeting reasonably certain that he was a double agent, and not after the second, third, fourth or fifth meetings after he had confirmed it. He had tried to convince himself that it was because he was waiting for the right moment to reveal to the world that Hawks was the son of a villain and an alcoholic and tear his reputation to shreds.
It wasn’t.
It was because on their third meeting when Touya had backed Hawks into a corner of a dingy warehouse on the edges of Kagoshima, Hawks’ sharp golden eyes had met his with a challenge and his wings, blood red and sharp as daggers, had flared out threateningly. He wasn’t afraid of being burnt, and he wasn’t going to let Touya push him around.
It was unfairly attractive.
So, it hadn’t helped the issue when on their seventh meeting in an equally dingy warehouse that used to be part of Universal Studios Japan before it had relocated to a larger site, Hawks had gotten the drop on him. Literally. He had dropped from the rafters silently and pinned him to the dirty floor for a good twenty minutes, twisting Touya’s arm so hard that it had almost come clean out of the socket until he apologised for not looping the traitor into their plans to conduct recruit hazing in the middle of Dotombori.
It wasn’t even as if anyone had been killed.
A villain with a curious water quirk had knocked out two women and they had been in critical condition for three days. Like he said, mostly civil unrest.
Besides, Osaka was Fat Gum’s territory so the feathery bastard shouldn’t even be travelling that far north to make trouble for Touya.
Especially not the kind of trouble that had him leaning his perfect pectoral muscles down heavily on Touya’s shoulders while his firm thighs bracketed his hips. Even if his little vice grip was trying to dislocate Touya’s arm.
The dumb bird wasn’t even that heavy, it wasn’t the crushing feeling that Touya was sure other heroes would induce if they were in the same position over him. He felt more like an obnoxiously heavy weighted blanket. But when he went to toss him off those huge wings had flared and a strong gust of wind had buffeted him back, flat on the ground.
That had been the start of it.
Before that, Touya had stuck to riling the winged hero up verbally. He was fun, he was just as sharp as Touya and his tongue was quick. He didn’t shy away from Touya’s dark humour or sarcasm, occasionally coming out with snarky remarks about his fellow heroes that made Touya chuckle (evilly – obviously) even if he knew that Hawks didn’t really mean them. He was cunning and witty, with a refreshingly easy-going personality. And so very easy to wind up.
After the warehouse in Sakurajima, the teasing turned physical.
Touya hadn’t been stupid enough to introduce Hawks to the League, though he knew that Hawks was getting impatient. Instead, he was acting as a go between. Shigaraki was vaguely aware of his communication with the hero, and was allowing it, with clear guidelines. The stakes were getting higher, and Touya knew that he was running out of reasons to keep Hawks on the outside without arousing Shigaraki’s suspicions.
The play-fighting had come to a head when Touya had met Hawks in Fukuoka, his home turf, on a squat four storey building near the docks. They had exchanged information, barely meaningful information, Shigaraki wanted an up-to-date update on All Might’s condition (recovering in leaps and bounds, though he would never be All Might again) and Hawks wanted to be involved in the next recruit drive (planned to take place in Sapporo in two weeks – probably largely cancelled now that Hawks had that information). He had said something rude, possibly about overcompensation and wing size, and Hawks had shoulder checked him.
It shouldn’t have been a problem, but Touya was mid-step and his centre of gravity was off, and he was playing alley cat on the thin concrete lip of the edge of the building.
He had fallen off the edge silently, too shocked to do more than scrabble for the bricks to try and slow his descent to the ground.
Hawks wasn’t the fastest hero for nothing though. His arms slammed around Touya’s torso with the force of a shinkansen as his wings drove upwards to counter the sudden change in velocity and direction. He had possibly broken a rib. Definitely winded him. But his skull wasn’t cracked on the pavement below, so he would count the discomfort as a win.
Hawks lowered his feet to the ground with the softest rustle of feathers, his breathing a little short. Probably worried about almost losing his ticket into the League.
“Dabi…”
His voice was relieved though, like he was surprised that he had done the heroic thing and had dived over a building to rescue someone.
Touya had wanted to roll his eyes, but the first full breath that he managed to pull into his sore chest was interrupted by the gentle press of lips against his own. He didn’t think it was planned and it wasn’t anything earth-shattering.
Touya had definitely enjoyed better kisses pre-scarface.
But this kiss wasn’t about fanning the flame that coiled tightly around the pit of Touya’s stomach. It was warm but not hot, almost chaste as Hawks’ tongue flicked over Touya’s burnt lower lip and his hands tangled into his hair, thumbs brushing against the helix piercings in his ears curiously.
It settled Touya’s racing nerved faster than anything he had ever experienced before, the comedown so fast that he was slightly doe-eyed and a little unsteady on his feet when Hawks pulled back. Not that he was going to let the stupid bird know that.
He pushed back from the other man, turning his very best Dabi glare on him. Hawks didn’t seem like he was fooled, or at least he was smirking like the idiotic pigeon he was.
“I’ll text you the next time I need you,” Touya waved a dismissive hand and stalked down the docks to a stolen Lexus.
The next time they met, Shigaraki had thrown down the metaphorical gauntlet.
Best Jeanist.
Touya wasn’t quite sure what the current Number 3 had done to piss off Shigaraki, it might have just been to disrupt the top ten for the second time in six months, but Shigaraki usually had a vendetta that had little to do with logic. Maybe he was annoyed about the competition for the Worst Ways to Cover Your Face Awards. Or the cover page of terrible haircuts of the twenty-third century.
Not that Touya could really throw dirt on that front.
He didn’t look like he had stepped out of a fashion magazine either.
Unlike Hawks.
Hawks had been rattled by the demand. His demeanour had shuttered, and his sharp golden eyes had flickered to the side nervously.
He had grit out a determined, “fine,” and disappeared into the night sky above Takahashi.
Touya hadn’t really expected him to follow through, Hawks was the Number 2 and closer to Best Jeanist’s age than he was to Endeavor’s, so there was bound to be some familiarity. Dare he say, probably even friendship.
Which was why he was surprised when Hawks dropped the Fibre Hero at his feet one evening, two weeks later, in a dark alleyway in Hiroshima, apparently dead. Touya wasn’t especially well-trained in the medical arts, but the body was cold and without a pulse. He couldn’t tell how Hawks had done it, but for all intents and purposes it certainly appeared that Best Jeanist was dead.
And he couldn’t disprove it either, so instead he had had to contact Shigaraki to confirm the kill. The man had wanted photos, and then had directed the body be left in a nearby dumpster to be collected.
Like the trash heroes are.
Hawks had followed directions, but his movements were gentle, so as not to bruise Touya suspected.
He wanted to growl at the winged hero that he knew, he knew that he was a dirty traitor. But he’d let the charade go on too long, if he told Shigaraki now it would be him getting dusted not the fucking pigeon. He’d gotten caught up in the game. In the banter.
In the texts at three in the morning complaining about Hawks’ patrol, or in the fact that Hawks seemed to have a radar for the best yakitori stands in every city they had met up in and seemed perfectly happy talking to the vendor before handing over a few hundred yen to bring back perfect chicken skewers to Touya. He was the one who had shoved a karaage skewer into Touya’s hands a few weeks earlier and had stolen his chicken, leak and soy sauce skewer, insisting that eating the fried chicken from the stick was better than any izakaya in the country could serve.
That it being on a stick made it better.
Touya had stared at him like he actually was the brainless bird Hawks like to play at. But he hadn’t been wrong. There was something about the karaage being on a skewer that made it better.
Not that he would admit it.
So, god help him, he was annoyed that he didn’t know how to back out of this game without himself (he really didn’t want it to be himself) getting hurt, or Hawks getting killed because he got in too deep to pull out. He was a dumb bird; he wouldn’t know if he was waving or drowning.
He had growled something in Hawks’ general direction about contacting him with the next catch-up details, and had stalked further down the alleyway. Hawks had called out something behind him, but he hadn’t really heard, and definitely didn’t respond as he zigzagged his way through darkened back alleys.
He just wanted a moment, to think. To re-evaluate. To figure out the plan that didn’t get Hawks too close to the League, for his own sake and for the League’s, while still saving his (thankfully unscarred) ass.
He wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings though. At this time of night, he was hardly the ugliest guy hanging around, and with a black scarf pulled over his nose and a hood over his hair, he was almost unrecognisable unless someone looked too closely. And Hawks usually took his abrupt departures with grace. He had better things to do with his time than worry about Touya’s manners.
The operative word being usually.
Touya grunted in pain as he was slammed into the dark brick wall of the alley he had been walking down, heading for the subway. Wind buffeted down the alleyway, as was expected when Hawks burst onto a scene, and his arms were yanked behind his back.
Hawks held his wrists firmly with one hand, resisting Touya’s struggles as he leaned into his free hand, pressed against the brick wall and close to Touya’s cheek.
“That was rude Dabi,” his voice was soft, and while his words implied that he might be teasing, his tone was hard.
He had run out of patience.
Touya shifted his hands, trying to break the hold that Hawks had on him. He wasn’t intimidated, Hawks needed him too much to really hurt him, but he also didn’t like having his back to the hero, his hands held as if he was handcuffed, ready to be arrested.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise that you needed an extended farewell,” Touya growled, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the other man.
The brick wall bit at his cheek and he contemplated stomping on Hawks’ foot to get him to release him. He had a suspicion that the light-weight leather of his boots wasn’t going to hold up against the steel toes of Hawks’ though, so he didn’t.
“I have been jumping through your hoops for seven months Dabi, I killed another hero for you. I left his corpse in the garbage like he was disposable. I want a bone,” Hawks hissed.
His tone was deadly, and Touya knew that even if Best Jeanist wasn’t dead, he was a friend of Hawks’ and he had not wanted to go through with the direction from Shigaraki. He might have even argued with the Hero Commission about it. Touya was reminded uncomfortably that the man pressed against his back was the Number 2 hero, and despite his affable nature and good looks, he had worked hard to claw his way into that spot at the age of twenty-three.
And that he had invested in non-flammable, heat retardant gear since High End.
Don’t go for the obvious attack then, a small part of his mind whispered. There was more than one way to skin a cat. Or in this case, to get a bird of prey to back the fuck up.
“You want a bone?” Touya purred, arching his chest into the wall and his hips back into Hawks’ groin.
Touya expected the hero to release him in surprise and take at least three steps away, because that’s what heroes do. They get flustered and back off.
Hawks didn’t respond like Touya expected.
Instead, his hand tightened around Touya’s wrists, his grip bordering on painful, and Touya watched as his eyes slipped from Touya’s face to his ass, his pupils blown wide. He didn’t press closer, but he didn’t back away either.
He seemed to be thinking.
When his golden gaze lifted again to meet Touya’s, it was half-lidded and intense.
“This is how this is going to go Dabi, tomorrow morning, before midday, you are going to send me the details of the next meeting the League is hosting. I want my seat at the table and I’ve earnt it, so stop fucking me around,” it was unusual to hear the other mean swear, but it sent a tingle up Touya’s spine that he did not appreciate, “and tonight, on an unrelated note, you are going to throw me a bone because you’ve been an insufferable tease for seven months and I have bought you dinner at least six times.”
“It’s not very gentlemanly to presume that you’re entitled to sex just because you bought me dinner,” Touya huffed out haughtily.
Hawks tightened his grip on Touya’s wrists and lifted them slightly, so the pressure on his shoulders increased to a dull ache.
“When I see a gentleman, I’ll be sure to take note of that,” Hawks replied, his tone sing-songing but firm.
“Some fucking hero you are,” Touya growled, partially in response to the pain in his shoulders.
Hawks chuckled darkly, and it was reminiscent enough of Touya’s own laugh that Touya wondered if they had been spending too much time together.
“Haven’t you heard, I’m trying not to be,” his tone was dark but somehow, still playful as he shifted his grip on Touya’s wrists so they were crossed over each other and some of the tension in his shoulders dispersed, and then murmured quietly, so as not to disturb the moment, “stomp your foot twice if you want me to stop.”
Touya raised an eyebrow and kept his feet perfectly still.
Ever the hero.
He had him pinned against a brick wall in a dingy alleyway somewhere in Hiroshima, talking about Touya being a tease and a mooch with Touya’s hands viced behind his back, but he still wanted to take two seconds to verify that whatever happened next, Touya knew he could withdraw consent.
It was kind of sweet.
For a stupid pigeon.
The thirty seconds that Hawks waited for Touya to consider his position and respond drags, but Hawks doesn’t move until he’s certain that Touya isn’t going to stamp his feet. Touya isn’t going to say no. He’s not stupid.
Hawks is every bit as handsome as Prime Might, (Touya isn’t naïve, he knows that his physical attraction to the older hero stems from a deep-seated hatred of his father – he also knows that All Might isn’t a perfect hero, and that he has a thing for blonds, so?). But, where All Might is the high school boyfriend in the letterman jacket who takes you to prom (gag – he needs to stop watching teenage movies with Toga), Hawks is the gorgeous college boyfriend who introduces you to sex parties and morning hangovers.
Touya isn’t going to get to settle down happily ever after with either, but he’s not going to pass up on the ride.
“Well, you’re half way to villainy if you’re getting your hands dirty in back alleyways,” Touya goads, and it was enough.
The hand that isn’t viced around Touya’s wrists left the wall beside Touya’s head to unzip the thick winter coat that Touya was wearing, and then pulled it down his arms and wrapped it securely around his wrists. Touya doesn’t know where Hawks learnt to make handcuffs from jackets, but he’s equally scared and impressed. He could burn the fabric away and free his wrists, but he likes this jacket. It’s the only one really warm enough for the Japanese winter, the rest are more for dramatic flair than warmth.
He still isn’t fond of being restrained in a foreign city with a hero behind him though.
He doesn’t have much time to consider this though, because as soon as his hands are secured, Hawks’ hands are back. His gloves skate up Touya’s arms, admiring the muscle straining against the restraints, over his shoulders and down his side as Hawks pressed his chest fully against Touya’s back. His face settled into the curve of Touya’s neck and for a moment he could hear him breathe, deep breaths that filled his chest followed by smaller breaths that huffed through Hawks’ nose.
He wanted to ask if he was scenting him, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
He didn’t know much about avian mutation quirks, and he knew even less about hawks (the real ones that you could see in the wild), but whatever Hawks was doing, he was enjoying it. Touya could feel that much at least, pressed firmly against the seat of his jeans, through the loose aviator-style uniform that Hawks preferred.
There was a moment, and a rustle of movement, where Hawks eased away from his neck slightly and then his hands were back, tracing imaginary patterns over the muscles of his sides and making him twice slightly. Touya could feel the scratch of slightly too long nails through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he wanted to look down. To watch in morbid curiosity as Hawks became acquainted with the imperfections of his ruined body, but Hawks still had him pressed firmly against the wall and all he could do was shift his head slightly to rest his forehead against the bricks instead of his cheek.
When Hawks returned to his neck, it was with a purpose, his slightly too sharp teeth sinking into the soft skin as he fingers scraped over and then pinched his nipples. Touya made a noise of surprise through an indrawn breath of air, his chest arching away from the sharp sensation before he had really processed the response. There isn’t much space to move in though, not with Hawks’ arms bracketing his sides and his mouth latched onto his neck.
If his scarred skin could bruise, he was sure it would have already.
Hawks didn’t seem to be in a hurry, his hips grinding languidly against Touya’s ass. As if they were in his private apartment, and not some alleyway where anyone could wander down and immediately spot the tell-tale red wings that had curled around them, filtering away the street lights and sounds of the city.
Touya rolled his hips backwards into Hawks’.
“You know we don’t have all night, right?”
Hawks made a noise that Touya couldn’t identify, though it might have been somewhere between a pleased hum and a chirrup. The noise that Touya gasped over when Hawk’s pinched his nipples harder in response, was more easily identifiable. His chest felt sensitive, the relative numbness of the scars always contrasted with his less damaged skin and felt more sensitive, and the exploratory scratches that Hawks had riddled him with hadn’t helped at all.
He could feel each jolt from his chest simmer and then ripple down his body like magma down a volcano. He was beyond hard, his erection weeping in his jeans and his hips stuttering wantonly, before Hawks relented and released his abused nipples.
He could have asked.
He could have demanded.
But Touya wasn’t going to beg the hero for his orgasm, and he suspected that if he pushed him too hard, Hawks would leave. He clearly wasn’t in the mood to negotiate with Touya tonight.
The little of Hawks that Touya could see looked smug as he leant back slightly, hands settling on Touya’s hips instead. There was a flush on Hawks’ cheeks and a brightness to his eyes that betrayed his interest in the situation.
“Have you ever considered piercings?” He asked, as if this was a perfectly normal question for an acquaintance by misfortune to ask while standing, hard, in an alleyway with a notorious villain.
“Fuck off, pervert,” Touya growled, straining slightly against the jacket around his wrists.
Hawks smirked, like the cocky shit that he was, and shrugged, “just thinking, if they’re sensitive now…”
He trailed off and Touya could feel the strip of flesh over his cheeks that wasn’t marred by burn scars heat slightly.
“Are you fucking me or accessorising me? Because if it’s the latter I can go elsewhere, your style sucks,” the growl in Touya’s tone was light-hearted but the flash of impatience in his turquoise eyes was not.
He had no desire to get caught in an alley with his pants down.
Which was where this was heading if this birdbrain didn’t hurry up.
Hawks laughed, and it sounded like wind chimes on a clear summer day. This was why he made a terrible double agent.
Fortunately, his hands did leave Touya’s hips, deftly flicking open the button of his jeans and sliding down the zip. His hand around Touya’s erection, even through his briefs, was a relief and Touya (who will never admit this) whimpered softly.
“You’re so wet already, was I making you wait?” Hawks simpered, a devilish smirk on his lips.
“You’re a fucking pervert,” Touya hissed through clenched teeth as he tried to thrust into the hand wrapped around his cock.
Hawks’ grip on his hip was firm though, giving him just enough movement to thrust the head of his cock through the circle of Hawks’ hand but no more.
“Well, it’s never the ones you expect, it’s always the quiet ones, the sheltered children, the good boys~” Hawks purred into his ear, nipping at his cartilage piercings, “can you be a good boy? Could you cum like this? My hand not quite on your cock, your pants still mostly on as you hump my hand? In your underwear, like a preteen?”
Touya fought the groan in his throat, he wasn’t going to give the pro hero the fucking satisfaction.
“Not a fucking chance, birdy,” he ground out, despite the heat that was crawling over his skin and the tension that was tightening in the pit of his stomach.
“I don’t think you’re being honest with me, Dabi,” Hawks hummed, his hips grinding into Touya’s ass, forcing his cock a little further into the circle of his fist, “how about we make a deal? We make such good deals don’t we Dabi?”
Touya didn’t like his tone, but short of calling the whole thing off, he knew that this was Hawks’ game. So, he tried not to focus on the not-quite-satisfying pressure around his cock, or the insistent press of Hawks’ erection. He nodded against the bricks, not trusting himself to speak and sound threatening or intimidating at all.
“Good boy~” Hawks purred again and Touya whimpered, his hips stuttering in Hawks’ fist as more precum leaked from the tip of his cock, “our deal is this, if you can come like this, like the good boy I know you can be, then when my cock is nestled deep in your tight little ass you can come on it as many times as you like, and since you don’t have any hands right now, I’ll even make sure you get there as many times as you can get it up,”
Hawks paused and Touya shivered.
“Or,” Touya didn’t like the drawn-out sound of that, “you can choose not to come in your underwear, with limited stimulation, and we can move on to the main event, as you’re clearly impatient to do,”
That sounded better, this was meant to be a quick fuck in an alley to let off steam, not a three-hour, multiple orgasm fuck fest like Hawks was clearly angling for it to turn into.
“But you don’t come until I do, and you do it on my cock or not at all,” Hawks’ tone was still playful, but he wasn’t playing.
Touya knew that if he chose to get on with it, rushed Hawks right now, he would wait, possibly for an hour depending on Hawks’ stamina. He also knew that he enjoyed anal stimulation well enough, but that he was a little too tense, too nervous, too unfamiliar with anyone (let alone Hawks) to reach a prostate orgasm. That didn’t mean that he was just going to roll over for Hawks.
He was done being someone’s whipping boy.
Hawks was patient though, his hand still curled at just the right angle that Touya could thrust shallowly into it. The rough material of his briefs was starting to chafe against the head of his cock, but he could feel his orgasm building. There was just enough stimulation from the vice grip Hawks had on his hip, the hold he had on his cock and the pressure from Hawks’ erection against his ass that it was there. Hovering nearby. Maybe.
He growled quietly, his eyes flicking over his shoulder again to glare at Hawks.
“I’ll be a good boy,” he ground out, hands clenched behind him tightly enough that the muscles in his shoulders tensed.
Something bright and happy broke across Hawks’ face and he grinned, his head cocked to one side in an oddly bird-like pose for someone who was clearly the devil and a snake. He leant in to nuzzle Touya’s neck though, biting again more gently as he attempted again to mark the scarred skin at his neck.
It wouldn’t work, but it made Touya gasp and then moan softly, as Hawks relented his grip on Touya’s hip just enough that he had more room to thrust. It was millimetres, but it was more, and Hawks was still there, his hips insistent as they pushed Touya’s forward into his fist.
It was too much, the grip on his hip, probably leaving talon shaped bruises, the warm drag of Hawks’ mouth on his neck, the weight of Hawks’ erection against his ass, and the overly sensitive tug of material and warmth around the head of his cock. He was coming before he was even really aware that he was, the crash of his orgasm making him whimper again.
Tremors wracked his body and his knees felt weak, but he wasn’t going to lean on Hawks for support. He wasn’t going to fall over himself in a dirty alleyway from a hand job. He hadn’t sunk that low.
Instead, he leant his forehead against the brick wall, leaning into it for support as he tried to focus. Hawks was murmuring something in his ear and his hips stuttered again. He felt weightless.
And then it was worse, because Touya’s mind cleared enough to hear Hawks as his hands stoked soothing circles over his abdomen.
“Good boy, you’re such a good boy, I’m so proud of you,” Hawks’ purred into his hair, his ear, his neck, all the while soothing him through the orgasm.
And the treacherous part of Touya that still wanted Daddy’s approval preened at the confirmation.
He’d come in his pants like a middle-schooler while getting taunted by a pro hero, and instead of lighting the whole damn alleyway on fire like the maniacal villain he should be, he was letting the hero pet him, stroke him, praise him while he floated for a moment.
He was vaguely aware that Hawks pulled his jeans down, and was more aware when the cold air from the alleyway brushed against his ass, but he was still lax and moderately obedient. He let Hawks nudge his feet further apart, and drop his shoulders so that he was leaning fully against the wall, bent at the waist for better stability. He turned glazed turquoise eyes towards the winged hero when he felt his hands glide curiously over the muscles of his ass, appreciatively.
“You better have lube,” Touya growled quietly, his voice was rough and he hadn’t even been using it much, but he was still gathering his mental faculties.
Hawks smirked, pulling a bottle of what appeared to be massage oil from one of his pockets.
“It’s not perfect but it’ll do,” he shrugged, uncapping the oil to pour a generous amount over his fingers.
“Why do you have massage oil in your pockets?” Touya asked, a little more clearly, though he made a noise in the middle of his sentence that sounded like a pant when Hawks’ middle finger circled his entrance.
“I use it to help loosen my muscles before and after long flights,” Hawks replied nonchalantly as he slid a finger past the tight muscle at Touya’s entrance and down to the knuckle.
Touya did moan this time.
It had been years since he had had someone else’s hands on him like this, years since he had wanted anyone to see him like this. Sure, Hawks was a pro hero who wanted to kill or imprison his boss and the few people in his life who treated him with any level of decency, and was firmly against the whole “kill Endeavor” thing that Touya had devoted what little remained of his life to, but he found him attractive enough to bend over in a dirty alleyway on a Thursday night.
And wasn’t that true love really?
Touya knew that there was more to it than that, and if Hawks was willing to have him here then in all likelihood the location was convenient rather than a preference, but he doesn’t want to analyse it too much. It just feels good to be with someone, someone who can see his scars and not be horrified by him.
“Surely you have, nrgh, people to help with that,” Touya panted through moans, Hawks was proving scarily adept at working his body.
He was hard again, very much without permission. He was still recovering from the last orgasm Hawks had driven him over.
“The muscles that support my wings are very sensitive, I get uncomfortable having people fussing around my wings when I’m tired and they’re worn out, I feel vulnerable,” Hawks admitted softly and Touya knew that that was knowledge he should not be privy to, “so I’d rather do it myself until I’ve slept and recovered a little.”
Touya didn’t know how to respond to that confession, aside from yelling at the moronic pigeon for engaging in pillow talk with a known enemy of his, but he is saved from having to think about it as Hawks slides a second finger into him and he felt the tips of his fingers graze his prostate.
Not that he’s going to tell Hawks. The man clearly has too much power over him already, tell him that and his insides will end up as sore, sensitive and over stimulated as his nipples and cock. He doesn’t need to; Hawks seems to know where to focus his attention without any guidance from Touya.
He isn’t as blunt with his prostate as he was with his nipples, and it’s not the sensation driven edging he used on his cock. Instead, Hawks circles widely around Touya’s prostate, slipping out to stretch his entrance slowly as he drizzles more oil between the taut muscle of Touya’s ass, before he sinks back into him and brushes past his prostate again.
The slow nudging, the gentle stretch and the flashes of white-hot pleasure have Touya moaning rubbish into the wall, his hands clenching and unclenching in the fabric of his jacket. Hawks leant up to kiss his neck gently, the new angle requiring the shorter man to stretch onto his tiptoes to reach, but Touya doesn’t care.
“Do you want to come again?” Hawks is purring again, but it’s softer this time.
He wants to reward him, Touya can feel that. The approval. It shouldn’t feel nice. It shouldn’t feel comforting.
But it does.
He nods.
“Such a good boy,” Hawks purred quietly, and then he pulls back slightly.
Touya actually fucking whines when Hawks’ fingers withdraw from his ass, and he turns his head slightly to track where Hawks is. He knows his orgasm is close, not the painful onslaught of pleasure from his first orgasm, but a rush of satisfaction all the same. Hawks is close as well, unbuckling the bulky belt that sits at his waist and unbuttoning his pants.
His cock isn’t anything special, it’s no longer or wider than Touya’s. Just, proportionate.
But like everything fucking else that Hawks does, it’s not about what he’s physically been gifted but about how effectively he uses those gifts. Which Touya learns when he slides into him, imitating the same stretch and nudge that his fingers had been doing first against his entrance and then when he brushed against his prostate on this first thrust. He’s kind enough to wrap his hand properly around Touya’s cock this time, slicked with oil, and that’s all it takes for Touya’s second orgasm to rush over him.
Hawks chuckled softly in his ear, stroking him through his orgasm as he thrust shallowly into Touya.
“I had no idea you were such a good boy, coming on my cock as soon as it’s inside you,” he was slightly breathless, and Touya took comfort in the fact that Hawks was clearly as strung out by waiting as Touya was having been through two orgasms.
Touya wanted to snark at him, to tell him to fuck off and stop patronising him, but he’s fast running out of energy. The brick wall is cold against his cheek, and it’s starting to really hurt his shoulders to keep himself pressed against it with his arms restrained. He doesn’t want it to be over, but he also really wants to rest.
The easiest solution is to roll his hips back into Hawks’ and hope that he gets the message without going for another powerplay.
Hawks does, his hips falling into an addictive rhythm that isn’t too fast or too slow as he nips a bite mark into Touya’s shoulder blade. Touya doesn’t really notice his third orgasm, it’s another roll of pleasure that is a little bigger than the buzz of pleasure from having Hawks fuck into him that has him coming on his jeans, again. He clenches around Hawks’ cock, buried hilt-deep in his ass, and that’s apparently all Hawks needed.
There is a moment of still and silence while they both catch their breath before Hawks pulls away with a wet noise. Touya should be annoyed. He’s already covered in fluids, and the clean up is annoying, even if Hawks is too much of a well-behaved hero to not be clean and on the very best contraceptives money can buy.
Instead, he just tired.
He doesn’t remember much after that, but he wakes up in a plush king bed in a hotel that is paid too much to ask questions, with a nasty graze on his cheek and shoulder that makes him think he might have slid down the bricks a little. His clothes have been dry-cleaned and returned, and Hawks evidently attempted some sort of half-assed clean up before they fell asleep, but Touya still showers (the shower is massive, can you blame him?).
Hawks left a message on his phone from Hawks’ burner.
Before noon Dabi, I’m not playing games any more.
It’s eleven-thirty-two when Touya finishes his shower, but Shigaraki had responded to his message and he forwards the details to Hawks.
Of course, now he needs to work out a way to ensure that either Shigaraki cancels the meeting, or that Hawks can’t attend.
In the end, he needn’t have worried so much. The first meeting is postponed, Shigaraki gets food poisoning because he doesn’t care for use-by dates and never properly re-heats his food. The next meeting, Hawks can’t make at the last minute because of a huge earthquake in the Fukuoka region that leaves tens of people missing presumed dead for days. Touya watches the news, watches the little birdie flitting in and out of the rubble with people, some alive, some not, for hours.
After that, no one’s calendars align for four weeks. Having group meetings with a bunch of easily distracted psychopaths is no walk in the park, and Hawks being the Number 2 hero means that there are some events that he just has to make an appearance at. And if Touya sneaks into Hawks’ hotel room when he gets back from these events, slightly inebriated but very pleased to see him, then it’s only because Hawks is a surprisingly good lay, if a fucking pervert.
Which is why, almost two months after their first rendezvous in the alleyway in Hiroshima, Hawks still hasn’t officially met the League. It’s also why Touya is sitting opposite a man with light brown curly hair and circle glasses that make his face seem too small.
Nakamura Kendo was the only doctor that Touya had ever trusted enough to see voluntarily. He wasn’t much older than Touya, he was barely out of high school when they first met, and technically still wasn’t fully qualified. But, when Touya had come to him, bleeding and in pain, half of his skin peeling in grotesque chunks from his face, chest, arms and shoulders, Kendo had patched him up as best as he was able to at the time.
His father was a pharmacist, and he blessedly never asked why Kendo had needed such high dosage painkillers or where so much of his other medical equipment had disappeared to over the years. It had taken months of medical attention in Kendo’s pokey studio apartment before Touya was well enough that a small infection wouldn’t kill him. Kendo had suggested, vehemently, that if he wanted to continue to use his quirk, he needed to invest in proper gear, gear that would protect his skin from the heat of his flames.
Of course, gear like that cost money. Money that Touya would never be able to get.
But the knowledge that gear, equipment to protect him from his quirk, was available if you had the money. Money that the Number 2 hero in Japan would have had for years, broke a small part of Touya.
When he had emerged from the apartment, he wasn’t Dabi (Dabi didn’t exist for at least six years after that, and only once he was needed for Touya’s goals), but he wasn’t really Todoroki Touya any more either.
Whoever he was, Kendo had saved his life, and he never forgot that.
So, he came back to Yamagata as frequently as he could, and never let the League’s focus drift too far north of Tokyo. Minimising the damage. Keeping his small pocket safe.
Protecting a person he cared about, when he had failed his family.
He usually made it up once every four months or so, slipping away from the League at night with an easy excuse. They didn’t pry. That wasn’t their way. Normally, his visits were so that Kendo could fuss over his skin grafts, occasionally one would be so worn out from his quirk that Kendo would have to cut it out and replace it. It was painful, and healing them hurt a lot, especially when he didn’t have any real reprieve from using his quirk and still had no way of protecting himself from it.
But Kendo, somewhere along the line, had stopped trying to reason with him, and was simply an anchor in the storm for him. He knew, rationally, that the other man would know that he wasn’t going by Touya anymore, but he never brought it up. He knew, though he had never asked, where the burns had come from originally. And was one of very few who knew about Touya’s family.
Touya knew he’d die with that secret if he needed to, but Touya still wanted to save his siblings.
Save, not protect.
He would be dead, or in prison, and he couldn’t protect anyone from there.
This check up was for his scars, but it had had a secondary purpose. He’d been feeling … off, for a few weeks. Nauseous, slightly sensitive to smells, turning his nose up at food that he normally tolerated. Nothing worrying, he’d only actually vomited once when he came across Toga in the kitchen having breakfast, and the crunch of bones had done him in.
He’d apologised to Toga, because it wasn’t her fault that he was feeling weak-stomached.
But it hadn’t gone away, not really. It came in phases, nothing debilitating, but also not pleasant. So, he had asked Kendo, if he thought it was food poisoning and how long does it last normally.
And then Kendo had started asking general questions about his symptoms, obviously enjoying the chance to play diagnostician. Then he had started asking about his sex life, which Touya hadn’t really wanted to answer but did (infrequent but not non-existent). The next questions were about his contraceptives (yes - I’ve been taking them) and when they expired (they expire?).
It hadn’t been a good look on his face after that but Kendo had run a few tests and sent Touya away for the day. Apparently, they took a few hours to come back definitively, and he should eat something because he was looking a little pale.
Which was how he arrived, sitting opposite Kendo in his small apartment with a piece of paper in his hands trying to remember where along the lines of his education he had forgotten that he could get pregnant if he wasn’t careful. That it wasn’t a theoretical man with a miracle baby (male pregnancies weren’t even uncommon anymore), it could be him – Todoroki Touya; Dabi; whoever the fuck he was this morning. If say, he got lazy with his contraceptives (fucking Hawks probably had an alarm to remind him every day), or if he forgot to renew them and assumed, he just had to finish the packet before he got a refill (because he got lazy about taking them), or if, say, he was so fucking stupid as to let the Number 2 Pro Hero in Japan hit it raw in an alleyway in Hiroshima.
Because the piece of paper also specified that the baby (what the fuck?) was approximately seven weeks old.
Quirk history might be a mandatory subject for every junior, middle, and high school student in the world, but Touya was going to murder Hawks. After he was finished never talking to him again in this lifetime or the next.