[Contains elements of self harm, implied sex and sexual language, a mention of purging, and implied child abuse]
Movement was almost as natural as breathing, for him.
Not long walks through crowds, or the stagger and swagger at parties.
The rustling of feathers, the birdlike tilt of his head at sudden noises, the soft coo escaping before he even registered his lips moving.
He was Keigo once, before Hawks, and Keigo engaged in these senseless tics because it was normal and natural.
Until it wasn't.
It had been beaten out of him, like every undesirable quality. It needed to be rectified and so was, like some kind of malignant tumor.
He supposed that made his handlers the scalpel.
Hawks' laughed, though the sound closer resembled a strangled exhale.
A smack on the back. Hawks didn't flinch.
Dabi.
"You coughin' a little there, Birdie? Thought I was the one with the shitty lungs."
The slap hurt, a soft flurry of pain between his shoulder blades. Hawks pushed away his longing for another.
A hand on his nape, a scratch of the feathers just at the base of his spine-
A steel toe boot landed hard at his ankle, "oi! Birdie! Fuckin' answer me."
Hawks felt like he'd suddenly resurfaced from water he was drowning in. His ears no longer muffled; the world no longer in slow motion.
His heavy body sucked him back into its icy grip.
"Maybe it's all the second hand smoke, eh? You cosplayin' as a chimney?"
The joke fell flat. Toga spared him a pity giggle from the bar, and Hawks wondered how long the room had been staring at him.
"What? C'mon better late than never, right? Tough crowd?"
Dabi huffed as everyone went back to idleness, moving from where he stood in front of the winged hero and flopping his lanky self down on the opposing couch, feet up on the coffee table
Shoes on. And they had the gall to call Hawks animalistic.
Dabi lit a cigarette with index and middle fingers, sticking his hand up in a gun shape and balancing the cig between canines. Anything for dramatic flair.
Meeting Hawks staring eyes, the finger gun twisted into an obscene gesture instead. Mature.
Hawks looked away, there were more important things to worry about than Dabis hands or teeth, piercing eyes, jutting collarbones-
Hawks tugged at a feather, hard. How did I get here?
A small gasp was let out, somewhere around the bar, and then shuffling. The couch dipped.
Toga gently pressed herself into his side, subtly pulling clenched hands from his wings and running her own thin fingers through the strong feathers.
Hawks didn't move, barely considered breathing, hyperfocused on the ministrations and how he didn't want it to stop.
It was shameful. He was shameful. Keigo was bad. Hawks was bad.
Toga didn't notice his internal fire fight, or did and didn't care.
Hawks tried to wrestle his expression into impassive nothingness, tried to excuse his shaking hands for chills, his welling eyes a byproduct of second hand smoke.
Toga ran one manicured finger over his bony wing span, the other slipping gently into his grasp, he closed his eyes.
"You're doing it again."
Those words weren't angry, more thoughtful, as if stating the obvious.
Hawks blanched without reason, as if expecting a blow, good behaviour was never pointed out.
"Dunno what you're talking about."
Dabi pressed, leaning forward, wasting no time, "It's a little noise you make, sorta like a bird cooing. You a fuckin pigeon?"
And maybe it was the tiredness, or the rare feeling of comfort being ripped from his grasp, but Hawks could feel himself freeze up in white hot panic.
Just a touch. Just a touch and the painstakingly trained facade was slipping. And the panic made it worse, it always made it worse. Hawks' hand clamped down on Togas arm, and he heard her cry out but it barely registered. Like she was far away.
No, no, no, no-
You'll be punished for this.
Hawks' other hand shot up, gripping his hair and tugging sharply, before slipping down to the stubble-like growth of feathers along his hairline. He'd forgotten to remove them, just another failure added to the stack.
His chest felt tight, squeezing like colossal hands on his ribcage, his body crumpling like a recycled can. His brain kicked in, finally deciding to act, but only screamed danger and get away.
"Hawks? What's happening?"
Fully hyperventilating, Hawks grip only tightened and, distantly, he smelled blood.
"Stop standing there like an idiot and grab some water!" The voice was deep, husky, smoke stained like the curtains. Hawks latched on to it and didn't let go. He mumbled, a shrill sound halfway between a chirp and a cry.
Dabi noticed the response to his voice, and crouched down low in front of the hero, Hawks heard his knees crack. "-ey, Birdie, you wanna look at me?"
Hands, freakishly warm, gently pried his grip from his hairline.
His cheeks were wet.
Crying. Hero's don't cry.
Hawks put the hand in his mouth instead, biting down hard to stop the flow, treating tears like a gushing wound.
"Fuck. I haven't done this shit in a while."
Scarred hands retreated, sitting flat on Dabis knees a respectable distance away. The man was still focused on Hawks. The hero tried to meet his eyes but couldn't.
"Hawks? Can you breathe with me?" The voice was deliberately low. Deep and soothing and Hawks clung to it again like a drowning man to a log, like it was the only thing stopping him from washing away.
"-inhale for four seconds for me," a stuttering breath,"that's it, hold it for seven-"
The breathing exercises cooled the tide, leaving Hawks all washed up.
"That's it, attaboy Shouto."
Hawks stuttered a final, calming exhale. Only then did Dabi's hands lift up, rubbing warm circles into his forearms before circling his wrist with thin, burned fingers.
"Loosen up your jaw before you break skin." Hawks would have snorted at the wording in any other situation, but now the simple task of opening his mouth required all focus.
The hand came loose, bruised and sore. Dabi grabbed it firmly. "Great job, you think you can loosen your grip on the girl now?
Hawks looked over, dazedly, to see slightly overgrown talons digging into the plush skin of Togas forearm. He tried to let go. He tried.
"I-I can't -I can't." It was gasped and broken and stupid.
"That's ok. It's a bird thing?"
Hawks just broke into distressed coos and trills.
Dabi hummed, before lifting a hand and running it through the hairline feathers Hawks had previously tugged on.
Shoulders relaxed, mouth fell open slightly.
"That's it, just chill out Birdie." Dabi reached up to grab something from someone past his shoulder, but Hawks was too focused on the scratching of fingers and the way staples caught the light.
Water was given to him and his hand shook too much to grasp it.
So the other was let loose, freeing the appendage he held captive and gripping the glass.
Toga looked down at her own blood, disinterested, before meeting Dabi's eyes.
"You need a bandage, Toga. Fuckin' bleed out." That was Twice, designated water fetcher. He led the girl away to the bar.
"You with me now, Bird Brain?"
"Y-yeah."
"We've all seen some shit, I didn't realise what I said could trigger you." That was as close as Dabi could get to an apology right now.
"It's fine," Hawks said, and the bird noises abruptly stopped. Dabi removed his hand from his hair. Hawks missed the touch.
"Is it really, though?"
The air felt thick with Hawks forced exhales. Dabi shifted from his squat into the coffee table.
"When my broth-friend was a kid, he used to," Dabi gestured with his hands, as if trying to find the words, "chew on ice. Like, a lot. I tried to stop him at first, but I wasn't much older so he didn't listen."
Hawks looked up.
"I guess I'm telling you this because, eventually, I figured out that the issue wasn't boredom or defiance. It was anxiety. I guess the kid wanted something to ground him. The chewing motion was soothing and ice was always on hand. It calmed him, and he did it without thinking. D'you think, maybe, the bird sounds are like that?"
A beat. Dabi's eye contact hurt. Hawks had to fight the almost natural instinct to chirp or rock or something.
"Ah fuck- Look I was trained out of the bird habits as a kid. I didn't mean to make the noise and when you mentioned it I freaked out. Happy?"
"Trained? The fuck you mean trained?"
Hawks didn't want to talk about this right now. Didn't want to talk about this ever. He bit the bullet.
"You called me 'Shouto', who's that?
Dabi frosted over instantly. He knew what Hawks was doing.
"Dabi! I'm all bandaged up! Tell me more about this icy friend of yours, you never talk about yourself!"
Toga embraced the villain and Hawks took his chance, slipping out of the base, hands still shaking.
Hawks said less to the Commission than he should have.
Dabi was fire.
The literal embodiment of everything burning and hot.
Hawks found it hard not to think about him.
They were similar in age, and Hawks found himself sitting with Dabi for reasons more than work or intel. Dabi had this way of expressing when he talked and Hawks guiltily sucked it up, blaming it on the lack of contact with people his age in his early years.
He shouldn't be doing this, couldn't be doing this, because if the commission found out they'd punish him, and he'd deserve it, because after everything he was still a failure, deserving of nothing but pain. Hawks knew he should tell them. This weird obsession was a liability, a weakness.
But Dabi touched him.
Warm hands squeezed his shoulders, thin fingers brushed his wings out of the way, keen eyes and impassive face remained ignorant of accidental chirps.
Some secrets were worth keeping.
In this weird, intoxicating way, Dabi was strange.
It made Hawks heart beat faster than its usual accelerated pace.
"Pigeon."
"Ashtray."
The nicknames were weirdly endearing. Though Hawks would never admit it.
They walked. Dabi had nudged him with an elbow in further greeting and Hawks had to cough to hide the way it made him tremble.
The alley was dark, shadows just elongating down the walls, somehow making Dabi look lankier.
Sharp. Knife like.
Keigo cooed softly and Dabi ignored it.
The villain had been silent for a while, almost scarily so. Hawks had grabbed the skinny man something to eat when he'd noticed the misty look in his eyes. The sugar didn't seem to help.
Dabi took off the medical mask that hid his stitches, huffing into the empty air.
"How's Endeavor?" The question was random, husky as ever with a hint of… apprehension?
"He'll live, the only thing harmed was his face."
"Oh."
Hawks ran his tongue over his teeth.
"I don't know how you can stand to be in the same room as him."
Hawks answered faster than he wanted to. "He saved me, once. Was a pretty big inspo', y'know."
The shift was sudden, instead of cold the air was thick and hot. Dabis' body went rigid, shoulders tense, before spinning, using his full body weight to slam Hawks into the wall.
A breath. Dabi's hand was wound tight around Hawks' throat, their chests practically touching.
"You're a fucking hypocrite!" punctuated by a grip at his collar. He was slammed again, head cracking sharply against the wall.
You should move.Do you have no fucking sense of self preservation?
But Dabi was touching him, hands at his throat, no longer squeezing, more looking at him in a strange way.
Dabi seemed to have the same question.
They stared at each other for a few painstaking seconds. Dabi broke first, as if seeing for the first time.
"You don't know." Dabi mumbled, seemingly coming back to himself, offering no other explanation than a loosening grip.
And Hawks has so little self control.
Spite? Rebellion? Daddy issues?
Love.
Keigo grabbed Dabi's retreating hand, forcing it back onto his throat. Needing the touch.
I'm going to die.
Dabi regarded him with a tilt of the head, restoring his grip. Keigo gasped, eyes rolling skyward.
And Dabi knew. Because he always knew. Dabi read him like a road sign and crashed into him anyway.
The hand that wasn't gripping his throat lifted, stroking his hairline feathers back, and Keigo cooed this broken sound as Dabi looked right through him, unsure if he wanted his hand in his hair or his cock in his mouth. So the villain slammed his lips to the heros; the best of both worlds. Minute sexual satisfaction and real human touch. Dabi had been there and he hated it, but for some sick reason never wanted to see that broken look in the hero's eyes again.
Keigo gripped his arms, soft birdlike sounds escaping, and Dabi allowed it because no one else had.
Dabi was in his apartment.
He guessed that was fine.
He'd pinned Hawks wings when he'd fucked him, a weight on his back that felt so good. The touch was intoxicating, exciting, everything and nothing.
Keigo sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, rocking. Rocking always released the pent up energy, replacing chirping or twitching. Every other movement had been ripped away. It wasn't desirable, but at least it was human.
Back. Fourth. Back. Fourth.
The shower cut off.
Back. Fourth. Back. Fourth.
Dabi's hair was tousled dry. White roots peaked through. Keigo tried not to stare.
Back. Fourth. Back. Fourth.
Dabi sifted through Keigo's closet, towel around his waist.
Back-forth-back-
Sleeping with the villains was not in the contract, so Keigo didn't really know what to do. It wasn't an easy mistake to make.
Well 'slay' does rhyme with 'lay'.
Dabi wasn't kind, or sweet, or romantic. Keigo was fine because that was normal.
He hadn't said anything about the noises since the first incident. Keigo didn't know if he was grateful or staring at a slowly detonating bomb, dick in hand.
Dabi pulled a hoodie on, burns showing through the wing sized holes in the back.
"I'm gonna get something to eat, Chicken Little, you comin?"
Keigo grabbed his arm and hauled himself up too, content to follow, just for now.
Dabi was weirdly responsable in the kitchen, grabbing what little food Keigo had and tossing it into something vaguely edible. Keigo sat at the island in the kitchen, staring down at animalistic hands.
He tried chirping in the empty air, and it felt natural so he did it again.
Dabi seemed to pause, momentarily, pulling something out of the fridge and eyeing it, considering.
"How do you feel about," a pause, an inhale, "raw meat."
Hawks stiffened, "I don't - I'm not supposed to-"
"How do you feel?"
A pause, there seemed to be a lot of those between them.
"Please."
"All right, Feathers."
Keigo tore the meat apart with his talons and it tasted so good. Dabi had eaten his cooked meal across from him, a smile on his face.
Hawks purged the meal later, guilt getting the better of him.
"Trained? The fuck you mean trained?"
Maybe Dabi was overly sensitive to the world's more fucked up side.
When Shouto was little, he'd received this ugly, patchwork blanket. It was red and blue and scorched in one corner.
He'd loved it.
And as with everything he loved, Endeavor tore it down. The bruise on Shoutos' tiny ribs was so large and blackened that Dabi felt sick. The kid was shaking so badly that Dabi felt like giving up.
Because no one was that mentally strong. Shouto would never be his own person.
The news was on, one night, and the mention of the kids name had him perking up from his violent daydreams.
The sports festival was intense, and Shouto didn't win but Dabi didn't care.
Because on the screen, scowling in all his two toned glory, was Shouto. Sweaty and burned and frazzled, a worn, patch work blanket thrown over his shoulders.
He'd kept it.
Of course he had.
And Dabi laughed and laughed and laughed until he choked on cig smoke and started crying.
No matter how much he hated it, he'd seen that panicky, bruised child in Hawks.
And villainy was pushed away momentarily in an effort to get him to see that there was more. That there was nothing unnatural or freakish about anything he did.
Fucking him was unintentional, but never a mistake.
"Dabi. Dabi. Dabi. Dabi-"
The mumbled repetition was endearing, and Dabi kissed Keigo's stomach, trailing lower. Eventually it would fade from names to mumbled coos and squawks. Dabi loved it.
But today was different, somehow.
Hawks still squealed broken moans, Dabi was first to the shower, they'd eaten in silence.
Dabi had flopped down onto the bed after, stomach full and eyes half lidded. Hawks had crawled in after and rested his head on burned pecs.
"You feelin' ok, Ashtray?" The nicknames were back, which means Hawks had left that place his mind slipped too when Dabi touched him softly.
And something about the way he looked at him, with big dilated eyes, tore Dabi to shreds. He closed his eyes and tried to settle.
"Dabi, answer me you emo."
"Touya."
Hawks sat up, brows pinched, "who the fuck is that?"
Dumb blonde. "It's me, Bird Brain, that's my name."
Hawks' eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Touya," he tried the name on his lips. Cute. Dabi braced himself, forcing a nonchalant tone.
"Todoroki Touya, the one and only." He winked like some kind of seedy kids party magician.
"Todoroki?" Hawks angled eyes widened comically, "like-"
Touya pulled a cig from the nightstand and lit it with his fingers, voice slipping into bitterness. "I think you know my Pa? Big guy, 'bout this high, needs a fire extinguisher to shave?"
Hawks clasped a hand over his mouth, eyes all wet and questioning. And out of all the possible reactions Touya predicted, that was not one of them.
"When you called me Shouto," it was whispered through clenched fingers, more to himself than Dabi, "the kid that chewed the ice."
Dabi twitched an eyebrow. Hawks wasn't stupid.
But then Keigo layed down again, placing his soft blonde mess on Dabi's chest and just breathing.
The speed of his heartbeat cooled Touya down.
"He hurts Shouto."
Touya took the cig between his fingers to avoid biting down on it, but it crumbled into ash in his palm.
"Yeah, I know."
"I didn't. Not until a UA visit recently. He grabbed the kid and his uniform scorched."
There was no denying that Endeavor's whole existence was hypocritical.
"You tellin' me this to piss me off?"
"No I-"
"Cause I wanna to kill him more than anyone-"
"Did he hurt you too?"
And wasn't that just it. The whole stupid thing that brought them together in the first place.
Dabi lit another cigarette, no sarcastic response ready for that. He stroked Hawks' hair.
"Yeah, Birdie, he did." Resigned, accepting.
Hawks put his fist through the wall.
"What would you do? If he stood in front of you now, I mean. Burn him?"
Keigo gently stroked a staple below his sternum. Dabi guessed he likes shiny things, which the hero denied.
Dabi held his lip ring between his teeth for a moment, ready to answer instantly but faking a moments contemplation. He'd thought about this, many times.
Wrapping his arm around the hero, he spoke with this distant determination.
"No. He's - what? 50? With his own quirk and Shouto's he's probably gotten his fair share of burns."
Hawks hummed, "I guess that makes sense."
"I want to hit him. I want to hit him and I won't be able to stop. I'll hit him 'till he's down and bloody and then I'll kick him. And I'll stomp and stomp and stomp until they can't identify him. Until his face is fucking broken and ugly and shattered. I'll hit him until he's sweating blood, until it pools from his fucking eye sockets. I want him to squeal like a fucking animal."
Hawks was still fiddling with the staple, trying to take it in with the same cool indifference Dabi would.
"And when I'm done, then I'll use my Quirk. Because all my life he treated me like it was the only thing worth keeping me for. I want to break him down without it, and then have it be the last thing he sees. I'll set him on fire and then watch his flesh crumble like the ash on the end of my cig," Dabi closed his eyes for a moment, finished, before shifting as if remembering something,"and then I'll piss on his grave." Thrown on the end, easy as pie.
"Oh."
It was an odd and dry response. But, really, how do you respond to one's ultimate goal of curb stomping their old man. Hawks didn't want to crush his dreams.
But Dabi was breathing hard, like everything he'd said had produced this twisted fiery hatred within. And Hawks knew that a shaky, upset Dabi was a fire hazard.
"Do you think," he started, barely a whisper, unsure of his words, "that Shouto would want that, or your sister and brother?"
Dabi didn't answer.
Endeavor was dead.
Touya didn't do it.
Shouto had cried at the funeral. Hawks had seen him, keeping his eyes off the kid as he lifted a wing to shield himself from the rain.
The kid had pushed his sister away, shivering, quietly sobbing. Hawks thought back to the touch he needed but never got, never knew about. It seemed so long ago now, when skin hunger was an issue that left him clawing his hair out.
When everyone had left, Hawks had stayed. Looking left and right, he held up a sign when everything was clear.
A very cold, wet, Dabi walked up to the burial sight, staring down at the soggy soil.
Hawks took a step closer, but kept his distance. The rain came down hard now.
Dabi seemed to be contemplating, head tilted and eyes down cast.
He sneered suddenly, and unzipped his fly. Hawks closed his eyes.
No harsh insults. No dripping liquid.
Dabi- No Touya, turned around, placed his forehead on Hawk's shoulder, and cried.
Dabi had packed a bag but left no note.
Keigo had too.
They sat in a shitty hotel on the edge of the city, just brushing the border.
Dabi had lit each candle with his fingers, and Keigo had smiled.
And this was it, they were leaving. Keigo had never been so sure of anything in his life.
But still, it nagged. Every voice in his head screamed in unison. He had failed.
"Doesn't it bother you?"
Hawks halted his rocking, holding his breathe to seize any pesky coos or trills. The rug he sat on suddenly seemed interesting.
Dabi looked up from the candle he was playing with, laying on the bed, eyebrow raised.
"What should bother me?"
"Me."
You're doing it wrong. Everything's wrong. Don't make those noises, don't sit like that.I'm only doing this to make you a hero.
"Don't be silly, Hawks."
End