He was gone sometimes for two days at a time; apparently the League was busy. When he came back most of what he wanted to do involved her contorted into various positions, sometimes tied, sometimes suspended. Dabi was creative, she would give him that.
Nothing prepared her for the day when tugged her blanket away while napping and said, "Get ready. We're going out in an hour."
Ayumu frowned up at him. "What?"
"Go take a shower," he said more slowly, as though the words themselves were the confusing part. He stalked past her to the bedroom to leaf through her clothes.
By the time she came out, Dabi had thrown clothing on the bed for her. It was the littlest black dress she owned, one her ex had chosen, hardly covering her ass and draping low over her chest, held up by two spaghetti straps that left half her back bare.
Ayumu rolled her eyes and slipped into satiny boy shorts that were light enough not to leave a line under the material, then set about drying her hair. Dabi was finishing up his own shower.
He whistled upon stepping out.
"You had to choose the literal sluttiest thing I own," she marveled, shaking out her hair as it slid silkily past her shoulders now that she'd used all the usual tricks on it.
He slid a hand down her bare back. "I could have set out lingerie instead or gone out and bought you something."
She started her makeup. "Or you could let me choose my own clothes."
Wine red lipstick was held up for her. "Heavier eyeliner, doll," he called over his shoulder as he went to rifle through her accessories. A black collar— "choker"— slid around her throat. "Perfect."
Knee high black socks covered her calves, boots just a touch taller over those.
"It's a shame to put a jacket over all that," Dabi lamented as he held hers out to her.
"Where are we going?"
He pulled her to his side as they stepped through the sudden portal and into—
A villain bar, of course. And heads turned toward them as they entered, many of them eyeing her like fresh meat on the hook. She leaned closer to the villain she'd come with. To which he smirked and tugged her closer to his side, steering her toward a booth in the back.
"You look like a fucking meal ," her murmured hotly against her ear, palm smoothing over the bare slice of her thigh grown wider as the dress rode against her ass.
Ayumu rolled her eyes. "Why the fuck would you bring me here dressed like this?"
He smirked, staples tugging at his skin. "I like showing off. And I might wanna ruffle some feathers."
As he said the last his eyes flicked toward the door that had just swung shut behind a young man a touch shorter than Dabi, backpack slung over his shoulders and quick golden eyes making a quick study of the inhabitant before lighting on the flame villain and sliding toward her. His brows rose, but he sauntered forward with all the arrogance she could expect considering her mind snapped the clues together nearly instantly.
"Seriously?" She shot him another irritated glare.
Dabi's smirk widened to a grin, and he pinched the inside meat of her leg. "Stand up, doll. It's only polite to greet people on your feet." But she rose as he did. "Hey there, chicken boy."
"Dabi, my man." Hawks' smile was meant to be charming, easygoing, but it juxtaposed the surroundings so heavily that Ayumu suddenly felt dizzy. "And excuse me, Miss, but you are far too lovely to be here with scarface. No offense," he added. He extended a hand toward her, but Ayumu flinched back, laying her hands against her stomach.
"Hands to yourself, asshole. No touching my girl without my say-so." They all settled onto the faux leather seats.
"I didn't expect you to bring a friend," Hawks said as he waved over a young woman taking drink orders.
Dabi slung an arm around her and shrugged. "You said it was a social visit, so I thought I might as well bring along someone I can stand."
"The real question," Hawks said, "is how she stands you."
"Who says I do?"
The young hero laughed. "Oooo, I like you."
Her eyes narrowed, lip curling as she sneered, "I don't like you."
"Ouch." He laid a hand over his chest. "That hurts, babe." Before she could respond, he was ordering a pitcher of something for the table. None of them were carded. How old was Hawks again? Like Dabi's age? "So how did you two crazy kids meet?"
Ayumu sighed and hid her face behind a palm.
"In a bar. Saw some vanilla little fuck hitting on her and saved the day, didn't I, doll?"
She glared flatly at him.
"Gave her my number, and the slutty little thing was practically begging for it in days."
"Fuck you," she muttered, to which the hero chuckled.
"She doesn't seem fond of you, man."
"I'm not." Her cool gaze turned on him, and Hawks frowned.
"Did I personally offend you somehow?" he asked after a beat.
"It's more your general existence," she spat. "Hero turned traitor and all that."
He drummed his fingers on the table, glancing between the villain and the woman. "I… am missing something, aren't I?"
"Stop being a brat," Dabi ordered, sliding her a full glass when the drinks arrived. "You like me well enough. Or parts of you do."
"Dude, I am literally right here," Hawks interjected as he noted the way the other man was eyeing her.
"You'd fuckin' love to watch."
The backpack twitched, no doubt indicative of wing movement. Ayumu frowned, wondering how exactly the hero could fit the massive crimson wings in such a small space. Then again, Quirks were weird like that.
Hawks was the hero among younger adults (and older teens) into men. Even Tomi, who vastly preferred women or nonbinary folk, thought he was good looking. Best Jeanist was the most popular hero, but Hawks was a phenomenon.
It reminded her of All Might, in a way. Hawks just turned up on the scene, a blur of scarlet as he sped through the crowd and set everything to rights, a fully-fledged hero out of nowhere. He'd skyrocketed to the top ten at eighteen and had held solid for the past four years and change.
And now he was here, second only to Endeavor, as a turncoat. Why devote your life to heroism only to throw it away when you're so close to the top?
Endeavor's burning visage shot through her mind, and she wondered what Hawks' connection might be to him. Perhaps he hated Endeavor as much as Dabi. Perhaps this was all about taking him down and rising to the top spot. If so, did he know about Dabi's backstory? It would be reasonable to seek out the vengeance-driven son…
Dabi's stapled skin came into sight as he refilled her glass. When had she finished the first? Eh, whatever. Half of that went down in one swig.
"Pretty girl can drink," Hawks mused. "Should have known you'd like the wild ones."
She favored him with another sneer. "I'm hardly that 'wild,'" she insisted. "I like to sit at home, listen to Chopin, and watch Netflix while I work in my home. In sweats." Golden eyes traced her form with a keenness that seemed at odds with his playful demeanor. It made her uncomfortable. She turned to Dabi, biting on her lip in a way she thought might appeal to him. "I need to use the facilities."
"Hold it."
Ayumu tried to ignore the scrutiny rolling off Hawks as she laid her head against the villain's shoulder and pleaded. "Please, Dabi? I really need to go, and it's right there." She nodded toward the little hall where a sign indicated restrooms could be found.
He forcefully turned her face to his straight on. "No."
"Then we need to leave," she responded firmly.
Dabi's fingers dug into her jaw. "You don't call the shots here, doll."
"I'm not gonna piss myself because you're being an ass."
"What's the problem?" Both sets of eyes darted toward the hero. He'd watched the little tiff with an uncharacteristic frown.
"She ain't leaving my sight."
"Then just send me back," she coaxed. "I need to go."
Dabi stared into her face for a moment, expression thoughtful, then he slid out of the booth and dragged her behind him. "I'm taking her to piss. Don't fucking move."
Hawks stared after the pair, his wings twitching with a desire to bolt into action. The entire situation had screamed out its wrongness from the moment he'd settled his gaze on the pretty little woman standing beside his League contact. She had seemed vaguely uncomfortable the entire exchange, her voice dripping with disdain and her body leaning away from her company until she had to go.
Dabi had "bad boy" written all over him, even if someone didn't know he was a villain. He looked the part, so why would any self-respecting woman date him? Thus, Hawks figured she was like those girls his father would rant about, the ones who practically screamed that they had daddy issues. Piercings, tattoos, dark makeup and clothes. With her hair dyes in more colors than anyone's Quirk had ever created and the way her nose ring moved when she scrunched her nose, she looked like she might be bad too. Underneath all of that, though, he could see a soft, lovely little thing, and he assumed that's who she really was.
Dabi was the abusive boyfriend who helped her re-live the trauma of her childhood, make daddy love her this time.
The way she spoke to Dabi, the way she held herself, was a different story. She didn't drape herself over him, seem desperate for his affection, nothing. She'd just close in on herself when the two men talked, her nervous hands with their long, tapered artist's fingers playing with the sweat that had rolled from their glasses to the table.
Hawks continued to scrutinize the pair as the night wound down. Once outside the vicinity of the bar, he tugged off the backpack shell covering his wings and took to the skies. The relief of spread his wings from where they'd folded to his back was like that first morning stretch.
Cool air blasted his face as he whipped on his signature visor, enjoying the way the wind ruffled through shaggy blond hair and feathers alike. His wings stretched back to cut through the air, fanned to slow his descent, flapped to let him settle gently on the roof.
He toyed with the idea of keeping the girl— Ayumu— from the HPSC, but ultimately dismissed it. If she was what he suspected, they might be able to help. Or something. He was a hero, after all.
The way her eyes had looked at him while she told him why she disliked him kept flashing through his mind like a warning bell. It chimed all through the night.