title: in my bones
pairings: NatShig, slight-DabiHawks
genre: angst, friendship/family, and berTRAYAL
notes: i love dabihawks so much, but all my stuff with them is so slight. regardless, it's a hawks-centric fic about NatShig.
As Hawks makes his way downstairs to the lab, he is unanimously unsurprised to find that Shigaraki is not alone.
Even when the villain was awake, he always seemed to have some form of company around, much to Hawks' chagrin. Despite earlier assumptions about Shigaraki's character, even a passing comment about him being a "loner type," Hawks could now say with confidence that the villain was fond of company and, with the Paranormal Liberation Front in mind, it was always powerful company.
It made sense that even in unconscious, vulnerable as he was that Shigaraki would have people around him.
He was an idiot to think otherwise.
Hawks had been making a quick study of Shigaraki since joining the League. As the chosen successor of All For One, and resident thorn in the side of hero society, he was an interesting character to say the least, even now with a leg brace and two missing fingers; he was a wonder of moving parts, a study in resilience. However, not exactly the easiest character to study.
Shigaraki had a wide circle, but it was closed more often than not. Newbies like him were kept at a distance and not even Hawks' closeness with Dabi and Twice would be enough to erode that stance. And, even then, Shigaraki always had people he trusted around him. And, aside from that, Shigaraki did not travel with a large posse for protection, as he assumed, but instead out of some deep clannishness that prickled all the original League members.
They hung together like a pack, like wolves, even deadlier with their numbers. Unified by a single goal.
Hawks respected them for that.
He nods in regard to the Doctor, seated like a king behind the mass of controllers and screens that monitored Shigaraki's progress from one evolution to the next. He then pauses when he sees Twice, sprawled out like a cat across two computer chairs.
At first, Hawks suspects this might be another clone, as he had just passed three of him on the way down, but some tell-tale sense clues him in that this might be the real Twice, catching a break after ramping up security these past few days.
"Extra company," the Doctor replies without looking up from his controls. His concentration broken when Twice gives a particularly loud snore. "Can never be too careful." Beady eyes gaze up at him from behind his bottle cap glasses.
Hawks doesn't even hold his breath as the Doctor stares him down. He knows his place, even though he's been at this game for months now, and formally moved in for two weeks, he knows that a majority of Shigaraki's most trusted people don't trust him.
Dabi told him not to take it personally.
Right before he smashed his cellphone.
All or nothing, as the game plays.
"Yeah, it's crazy out there too." Hawks says mildly, arching his brows for affect. "You should see it."
The Doctor cuts his gaze away after another moment and skims his finger across a screen, grumbling to himself. "Couldja tell the young lad down there to get his nose off the glass? I expect him to pull his weight if he insists on being here all the time."
Keeping up the façade of disinterest, Hawks shifts his gaze to who he expects to be Spinner or Compress on the lower floor and pauses.
Hawks had seen the abandoned Nomu sites first hand before the story even broke to the public. He had perused the labs full of single file coffins that held the Nomu while they were kept in stasis, awaiting orders. This, he knew even before Dabi explained it to him, is different.
The structure built for Shigaraki looked more like a snow globe, built to keep up with his needs and evolution in the difficult months to come. The evolution that would carry him from man to monster when he awoke new, improved, and stronger than before.
And it is here that Todoroki Natsuo stood in that eerie light of the dome, like a devotee to some particularly callous god.
He mumbles something noncommittal as he makes his way down the stairs.
When he reaches the bottom, before the twist of crisscross wires and hoses, he stands for a moment, just assessing Natsuo as he leans in, fingertips frosting the glass as he gazes through the fluid holding Shigaraki afloat.
Hawks can never pinpoint what it is about Natsuo that caught his attention. His parentage, of course, but he had never met Natsuo before meeting him in Deika City. He had, however, known him by reputation and pictures. The eldest son of Todoroki Enji, who shied out of the limelight and attended med school instead of honing his quirk.
Natsuo had sat at the right hand of Shigaraki before extending his own to introduce himself.
Natsuo had not even tried to hide his name, he introduced himself and clarified that he was something of an on-call doctor for the League.
The introduction had left Hawks a bit stunted. For all his months he spent gathering information, the League still managed to surprise him. He had wondered, briefly, if now would be the time to call in the cavalry—being that Natsuo was Endeavor's son and all—but tamped down that urge, and loyalty to the Number One Hero, in order to observe as the Commission commanded.
And observe he did.
There had been reports dating a few months back speculating that Shigaraki might have a new second-in-command. An afford that Dabi had taken with a raised brow and a peel of laughter when Hawks taunted him with it. So, he had chalked it up to perhaps a new League contact.
Natsuo was not Shigaraki's new second, but something of a constant companion.
It hurt Hawks to have to build a profile on him, though he was not sure why. Endeavor's son or not, Natsuo had betrayed his government, his people, his family for a terrorist organization.
By now, Hawks could not even entertain the delusion that Natsuo might be kept against his will. Natsuo was constantly on the move; popping in and out of the hideout with groceries and medical supplies, joking with the other followers, running his own clinic—
It is unforgiveable in the grand scheme of things.
But, still—
Like Dabi, like Twice, Natsuo has grown on him in the past few weeks. He had an easy nature about him. His presence was a warm blanket on the League, always attentive, always there in the foreground. Hawks had even gone to him to get his shoulder patched when he arrived, and then again for a follow up when Shigaraki was getting prepped for his procedure.
That day, the usually calm Natsuo seemed rattled. His hands were shaking, his voice rough, and his face flushed with exertion. The stubborn furrow of his brows set the mood of the room.
Hawks felt hurt by the sight of him now, so present, so devoted.
Hued in the blue-green lights of the artificial womb, Hawks can see Shigaraki's foggy outline, his expression not unlike that of a child in deep slumber, completely unaware of the world around him.
It would be so easy.
Kill Shigaraki. Get out of here.
Report to the Commission with everything he's seen. Everything he's done.
Be done with this.
But, it's not his time nor is it Shigaraki's.
"You okay?" He asks, breaking from his reverie and Natsuo from his, it seems. Natsuo gives him a wide, startled look when he peers over his shoulder, then he blinks, as if adjusting to the light before his expression softens.
"Oh, hey."
Hawks finds himself tracking Natsuo's stare, the shallow quality of his skin, the deep circles under his eyes.
Natsuo smiles wanly. It's a mockery of his usual cheer, but Hawks cannot really fault him for that. "Judging by your expression, I would say no." Natsuo hums and shifts his body to face him fully. He yawns, hand raising to cover his mouth. "Did Dabi send you down here?"
He has the instinct to lie, to let the words roll of his tongue, but Dabi and Natsuo seem to have something of a back-and-forth with each other. Each meeting to chat about the on goings of the League, and Hawks, which seems to be their favorite topic.
Which is odd to say the least.
"Nah, I just wandered down here. 'm bored. Figured I would come bother you for a bit." He tucks his hands into his pockets and presses closer into the light. He can feel the heat rising off the dome from the generators, the massive structure towering over him as he shakes out his wings. He then notes Natsuo's sweaty tee shirt and the pink flush of his skin. "It's hot down here, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Natsuo says and rolls his neck into his palm. He looks embarrassed. "I hate it. Because of my quirk, I can't really stand the heat but," Natsuo's eyes cut back to Shigaraki, an unspoken declaration stretching out between them. "It's something we have in common, I guess. Shig, hates the heat too."
It's such an off-handed comment. The casual way he said it as if they were any other couple, in any other situation.
It makes him feel off-kilter.
"You care about him, don't you?" It's not a question, but an observation. Natsuo looks at him, his expression impish, if not a little embarrassed. The hand on his neck reaches for his hair, a nervous gesture Hawks has seen many times. The picture-perfect image of a boy caught doting on his significant other.
"Is it's that obvious, huh?"
Hawks laughs. "You two haven't exactly kept it a secret."
Natsuo smiles then, a real smile.
And Hawks feels sick.
There had been rumors about Shigaraki gaining a new second, but Hawks had never even touched the speculations, the half-whispered stories, of some wild, whirlwind villain romance happening behind the scenes.
A month ago, an eyewitness account of having seen Shigaraki Tomura tangled up with some unknown villain would have made him laugh.
Now, he feels sick.
Despite everything, there is still that little piece of him that doubts it. Despite evidence, observation, and even Natsuo's own admission, Hawks clings onto the hope that this may be all a misunderstanding, that Natsuo is playing the same long-haul game he is, but dirtier and closer to the chest.
Because Todoroki Natsuo is a good person.
And on that, Hawks has a plethora of evidence. He has seen transcripts and recommendation letters, thousands of hours of community service and bake sales to prove it.
The guy was a hall monitor from kindergarten to high school for Christ's sake! How is he dating Japan's most wanted criminal?
His mind drifts back to that second check-up he had, the same day Shigaraki went under, and remembers how rattled Natsuo had been. How his hands shook. How everyone had been avoiding them in the days leading up to it. Hawks had unknowingly crossed that imaginary line into their business and gotten a rare, raw look at Natsuo piecing himself together after a fight.
He cannot rectify it.
"Well," he says, drawing out the word high and jovial as he glances between Natsuo and the blurry image of Shigaraki. "Can I ask why? I mean—how."
Natsuo looks at him then, still smiling, but confused. "How what?"
"How," Hawks trails off, his mind shooting in a million different directions. There are so many things he could ask, so many things he can say to fix this. Natsuo is a good person. He could just clarify that he wants to know how the other is holding up, but it falls short, ingenuine on his tongue.
There are so many things he wants to ask, wants to confirm from the source. So many helpful things, but in the end, his mind only serves up one burning question that he needs to hear for himself. "How can you be with him when he's done so many terrible things?"
It comes out harsher than he means to, even if the good intent is there. He finds himself winces at his own words, feeling the residual waves of oh and fuck as the realization sinks into him.
It's too personal a question for their acquaintance, he knows.
Natsuo is frowning at him now. His gray eyes burning into his own with a heat that Hawks takes for offense.
"I just mean, no disrespect to your man or anything, but," He still tries to keep his tone light, despite the sweat beading on his own neck, he laughs. "Shigaraki just seems real intense."
Natsuo does not say anything to him in the long moments following. He just keeps staring. Those critical, gray eyes looming over him like icy hooks, pulling the nervous babble out of him. It's the same look he's seen from Endeavor. The look he gives to errant sidekicks or heroes that try to upstage him. The heat he would admit during those moment of pure silence replaced with the chill of ice knotting up his spine.
Was Dabi mentioning that Natsuo was not good at controlling his quirk a warning or a threat?
"You work with my dad, don't you?"
Panic seizes in his throat.
"I did." He says, after a moment.
Natsuo nods to himself. "I saw you on the news with him a lot. Especially with the High End battle." Natsuo rolls his neck into his palm again, reaffirming something to himself. "He fun to work with?"
Hawks gauges his tone, dancing over the words and testing their meaning. The mild tone of Natsuo's voice seems like a death sentence, but not the ah-ha! moment he's be dreading since he started this mess. Despite possible insinuations, it seems harmless, but real. Too real.
He knows he cannot exactly gush about meeting and getting to work with Endeavor. He cannot talk about honor, or privilege, or respect he had for his childhood hero.
He cannot lie either, so he comes up empty.
"He was . . . I dunno, intense, I guess." It sounds half-baked, even to him, but he cannot help it, he's pulling at straws and coming up empty. What does Natsuo want to hear?
Natsuo huffs. "Intense? Ha, funny. You used the same word to describe my dad that you did my boyfriend." There's no humor in his tone. Nothing for Hawks to feed off of and learn from, anyway.
Still, Natsuo openly calling Shigaraki his boyfriend is a new development.
The two of them stand together in silence for a moment, gazing up at Shigaraki and presided over by the aquatic lights. Hawks can feel his anxiety growing the longer the silence persists.
He knows better than to turn tail and run, but—
It doesn't feel like that kind of moment. He decides to plant his feet and wait it out. If anything, he can always chalk it up to a case of foot-in-mouth. He is known for just calling it like he sees it. It's his persona.
When he side-glances Natsuo, however, he is surprised to find that the other looks hesitant. His arms folded around him; his gaze distant. He does not look like he might reveal Hawks as a traitor, but then again, he doesn't really know Natsuo too well.
"You know," Natsuo draws, cutting through the silence of the steady hum coming from the monitors. "My father isn't who he shows to the rest of the world." Natsuo look to him, mouth pulling in a grim line. "I mean, yeah, he's the Number One Hero and he's known for his rough manner and goal-oriented attitude, but no one sees what's behind closed doors, not really."
Hawks watches the steady bite of Natsuo's fingers in his skin, the way his fingers curl in as if chasing some horrible memory, and goes quiet. He knows that face. He has seen it so many times, on so many faces, on so many people he's saved, in his own mirror—
That's when his eyes catch on it, on the lower curve of his bicep, a patch of skin, pink and shiny, like a palm above his elbow.
It feels like well-aimed jab to his solar plexus leaving him choking on the insinuation—
"I'm pretty well-acquainted with bad people who do good things and good people who do bad things. Shigaraki is the one I prefer, if I'm being honest. He doesn't hide who he is or his objectives. He doesn't playact to the world that he's some hero when he's not."
"Yes, but," Hawks forces himself to choke back on his words. He is saying too much, he knows it. He's giving away too much so late in the game. "I'm sorry." He says, and means it. "I'm sorry, I'm just a lot in my head lately."
"Yeah, I can see that." Natsuo says, none too kindly. It's probably the first time Hawks has ever seen him in a openly bad mood, and Hawks put him there. "I mean, I know I told everyone not to treat me like a Fabergé egg, but you're really hitting the personal stuff."
"I'm sorry, it's just," Hawks makes a helpless gesture. "I just don't like see people get hurt."
"Yeah, well, neither do I." Natsuo looks at his shoes and then back towards the stairs leading them down. "You can have doubts, that's fine. It's natural. I had reservations when I left to be here, but—" Natsuo trails off and his brow crunches, recalling something. "Is that what you and Dabi have been fighting about?"
"Is that what he's been telling you?"
It's nastier than he means, but he means it all the same. It's not exactly a secret that he and Dabi have become . . . something, but it's not exactly like Hawks likes other people to know. Other people mean more ears, more eyes, more opinions. Growing up under the thumb of the Commission means Hawks likes to keep his bedroom business to himself. Not worrying about who knows who, who's slept with who, how this can help him.
Dabi is not his step-stool, so much as his crutch.
Something he needs that's his and his alone.
Natsuo's crunched expression is beginning to turn steadily glacial. "Well, we talk. We're—friends after all."
Hawks notes the pause over his words and feels vindicated in some strange way. Though hearing Dabi's name feels like a kick, brutal, below-the-belt.
There has to be something, something else he isn't seeing. Something glaring and obvious that dangles between them.
It hurt both of them, filling up the silences with everything they wanted to say to each other, but the barriers were up, lines drawn, and neither were budging in the final hour.
So, they fought often and made up later. Burning and kissing the bruises as they went.
It had gotten worse since they arrived here.
Hawks is left snarling at the bit, as Natsuo folds himself up again in an air of indifference, just as distant and unyielding as Dabi.
"I think I'm gonna go take a shower and get back to work." It sounds like an excuse, even as he's saying it and Hawks silently damns himself for even speaking at all. He can feel the opportunity slipping from his like sand between his fingers.
Natsuo half-turns back to him and pauses.
"Walk ahead of me."
It's an order. There's no doubt about it in his tone, but Hawks balks all the same. Natsuo's face is a mask of indifference, eyes set on the dome and then him. There is something unyielding in that stare, determination coiling to snap. Hawks already knows that this is the last time he will be allowed down here alone, if at all.
"Let's go."
Hawks nods once, and steps forward to walk ahead, feeling the weight of Natsuo's stare the entire way back to the main floor.
He fucked up.
and ta-da!
yeah, idk what this is, but plot bunnies are plot bunnnies. and Natsu doesn't fuck around. hawks is being sus and he's gonna get to the bottom of it as far as his brother and boyfriend are involved. obviously, Hawks doesn't know Dabi is Touya yet (if he is, i mean, i'm screaming) and so he finds Dabi's and Natsuo's closeness a little odd. hawks is so in the dark about everything happening, he's truly being attacked on all fronts.
in this au, aside from NatShig being a thing, Hawks is camping out at the PLF and trying to wrestle with his growing moral ambiguity and affection for Dabi. Dabi, however, doesn't trust easily and won't let him in bc of his past, which Natsu understands, but it's hurting everyone.
sort of loosely in the same world of my other fic "you can hear it in the silence" which is most softer, where Shigaraki and Natsuo are talking about Dabihawks and relationships and their own issues. i adored that fic and how sweet they are with each other when they're alone, so i found a way to continue it, obviously.
and wow, the new chapters. i mean, shit. at least the tiktok cosplayers are keeping me sane. i was thinking of a part two to this, but we'll see how i feel.
and, i'm still working during this pandemic, so reviews are very much appreciated. they make me smile :3
- cafeanna