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Hawks checked the time on his phone for the third time since arriving in the dilapidated building. he’d love to go back to the office so the in-house medics could brace his ankle and sew up his annoyingly deep cuts from the day’s events, but instead he was at the beck and call of a bitchy villain. Dabi always called him in last-minute and made vague threats that the hero knew better than to test.
He wanted to clock out. It was late. He had a long day, not that every day wasn’t just as long. His bones felt like lead and his eyelids weighed just as heavy. He’d broken his goggles in the same blow that got him the slice to his brow. He’d have to find where he was keeping his backup pair before the morning shift. The crusted over cut tugged every time his eyes scanned the shadowy surroundings. His ankle was reminding him that it was still twisted every time he shifted his weight. He still had enough feathers to hover off the floor of the building but he had a flight home to account for and he was, once again, tired.
A door in desperate need of an oil creaked open across the room and Dabi walked through at the pace of cold molasses. Hawks swore he had seen faster snails. Disregarding the well-curated professional appearance he had built around the villain, Hawks whined.
“You’re always on your own schedule yet I’m still following it better than you.”
Dabi let out a near laugh, teeth flashing in the dim lighting. His shoulders were relaxed as could be considering his company’s daytime occupation. His eyes were slow as they hopped across Hawks’ features. From eyes, to brow, to torn sleeve, to balancing ankle. He might have smiled then, but it looked too dubious to be of any comfort.
“You lose a fight with an alley cat?”
Hawks rolled his eyes. “Wind quirk. Good range, high pressure, hard to avoid. Let’s get this over with, hm?”
When Hawks moved his hand to his hip, he felt the pull of the cut on his forearm as the congealed injury cracked back open. Warm blood soaked into his tattered sleeve and dripped down his wrist for the second time that day. he sighed in annoyance and flicked the gathering blood from his knuckles. It splattered across the concrete between them.
Dabi’s focus stayed on the red spots as he spoke. Back to business. “We’ve got operations in your jurisdiction this week. We don’t want interference. From anyone.”
Hawks frowned, “My jurisdiction covers the whole district. I can’t take the week off just because you asked.”
“A real villain wouldn’t give a shit if the city was unprotected.”
“Yeah, well you’re talking to someone who still has appearances to keep. My rank is too high to go MIA without raising suspicions. Give me a clearer location and I’ll keep everyone off your back until Sunday.”
Dabi didn’t answer right away. Hawks rubbed at his growing headache and cringed as he felt the blood smear against his temples and warm the tips of his glove. Soon enough, the cut on his face was bleeding again too. Dammit. He just wanted to wrap this up and nap off of the day.
“I’ll send it to you. No capes. No spies. No you.”
Well that wasn’t ideal. Dabi had been getting better at spotting his ‘accidentally’ abandoned feathers around the base which meant Hawks would need to find another way to keep an eye on the PLF without raising alarms. Wonderful, more homework.
“Swell. Can I go?” He grunted.
Hawks dropped his hand from his face and moved to look back at the villain before him. Dabi’s blurring silhouette shrugged and Hawks spun on his heal to leave. In one fell swoop, his chest went ice cold and his head pulsed behind his eyes. Suddenly, he was staring at the rafters. His shoulders and wings ached. Fuck. Not a good look in font of the villain. Hawks rolled onto his good arm and pushed himself upright. His arms still shook and he didn’t get far before Dabi was crouched in front of him, hand alight for a better view. The hero’s wings inched away from the heat even as his headache welcomed it.
“You good?” The laugh in his tone made it clear he was far from concerned.
“Fine,” Hawks gritted out. “I’ll handle it.”
Dabi curled a flame-free finger into the tear of Hawks’ sleeve and tugged it down to peak at the injury it was hiding. “You know how to stitch that up?”
“Got a Commission medic at my office who can.”
At the mention of the HPSC, Dabi’s nose wrinkled and he seemed to make a decision. Dropping his weight onto his heels, Dabi tugged his phone from his pocket.
“Forget those creeps. Guess who gets to visit HQ today.”
Hitting a couple buttons on his burner, Dabi grinned at Hawks’ surprised expression. Having half the mind to panic at the impromptu change of plans, Hawks watched a black cloud slowly spin itself into existence at Dabi’s back. Visit the League, the PLF? In his state? Without notifying his Handlers? This had trap written all over it, but if it wasn’t and he overreacted, he could botch the whole mission and put Japan at risk. Hawks swallowed his growing concerns and head full of backup plans as Dabi dragged him painfully to his feet and through the gate.
Never in a million years would Hawks have expected himself to be perched on a kitchen counter in a villain base while one of Japan’s most dangerous criminals sewing him up like a pro.
“You’re good at this.” He tried his best to make small talk as Dabi finished the last few knots on his forearm. He had briefly wondered how sterile the thread and needle were, but decided it was nothing disinfectant couldn’t handle later. He took another sip of the juice Compress had so kindly offered him when he first arrived. It seemed to be slowly easing the annoying spinning of his head.
“You sound surprised.”
Hawks merely shrugged, earning a pinch from the stitches, and looked over the rows of staples decorating Dabi’s skin. He’d always been fond of the way they shined, even if they looked painful as hell. Imagining the man stitching together every purpling patch of skin made Hawks nearly sympathetic.
“You’re an enigma when you want to be,” he admitted.
Dabi straightened after cutting the thread free and wiped the curved needle off on Hawks’ pant leg before leaning into his face with more thread. He paused to press more gauze to it before starting.
“Keep it pretty,” Hawks joked. “That’s my moneymaker.”
Dabi instead dug the needle a bit too aggressively into Hawks’ brow and Hawks’ grabbed his wrist in a steal grip on instinct. His insides washed cold for the second time that night as dread set in. He wasn’t sure they’d even been this close before, and Dabi had never let him touch him. Flexing his fingers free, he avoided catching Dabi’s gaze in favor of eyeing the offending hand. If he had done that to his medic, he absolutely would have been laid into. Or worse.
But Dabi didn’t even bother commenting. Instead, he laughed at the reaction and pulled his first knot tight. Hawks flinched once more to his dismay and was quick to apologize. Dabi paused.
“I wouldn’t waste supplies on someone I planned on killing. Chill the fuck out.”
“Sure. Yeah.” It was fatigue, Hawks reasoned. He’d never show weakness otherwise. Not that being tired was a good excuse for slipping up. He was usually tired but that didn’t mean he was always screwing up.
A hard grip squeezing his chin and yanked him back to reality. Dabi glared at him, needle still strung to Hawks face. “If you don’t stop making faces like every thought in that tiny brain of yours hurts, I’m gonna cauterize it instead. Try hiding a hand shaped burn from the cameras.”
Hawks wanted to nod that he understood, but that might really get him barbecued. He gave an award-winning smile, ”You put all my other nurses to shame, hot stuff.”
“Don’t call me that,” Dabi pulled his next knot tight with a harsh yank. Hawks abandoned his thoughts in favor of playing his role as the charismatic spy, drowning out the dull pain with his double agent script.
“Come on Dabs, aren’t we close enough for nicknames yet? You’re even putting me back together.” He grinned, near flirtatiously.
“Only because I don’t trust those Commission medics.”
Hawks filed that away along with the brief pang in his chest. “So you do care!”
“About the mission success. If they kill you, it screws up my plans.”
Hawks should have asked how he was involved in Dabi’s master plan, but instead he said, “Why would they kill me? If they ever find out, they’ll just arrest me.”
Dabi rolled his eyes as if the question was imbecilic, “Don't act stupid. They built the law, they don’t follow it. And you’re their hero, if you turn out faulty, they’ll off you and blame us so no one knows their poster-child wasn’t perfect.”
Hawks' stomach churned. Dabi had an uncomfortably accurate idea of the inner-workings of the Commission. They didget rid of faulty tools. They did put image preservation and their ideals above all else. He had always thought himself indispensable as their highest ranking success story and most loyal hero. But no, no he was no different than anyone else beneath the President. If necessary, she would stamp him out with no more sympathy than she afforded a bug. Hawks swallowed slowly, “You seem sure.”
“I’ve got eyes. If you stopped kidding yourself, you’d see it too.”
With that, the final stitch was done and Dabi leaned away. He seemed to take Hawks’ breath with him. His lungs ached and he gripped the counter’s edge just a little tighter.
Going against years of training and reassurances; the people that had made him who he was and fulfilled a lost kids dreams, he tried to agree.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Less than interested in the battle he had prompted in Hawks' spirit, Dabi yanked him off the counter by his front only to grumble in annoyance when the former’s ankle gave out and his flared his wings to catch himself. The walls of red knocked against the first aid box on the counter and a feather barely caught it before it cracked off the linoleum. Dabi turned his back on the near mess and made for the door.
Hawks set the kit gently on the counter and hobbled after him as casually as he could manage. “If we're done, I'm gonna leave. Just point me in the direction of Fukuoka.”
Dabi stopped misstep. Hawks followed suit as he looked over his shoulder. “You’re staying the night.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you won't make it home without falling asleep and if you die now, we'll have hero's up our ass all next week.” Dabi kept walking, clearly expected Hawks to follow. The hero eyed the windows as they went.
“Appreciate what seems to be concern, but I fly tired all the time.”
Dabi let out a suspicious chuckle as they reached the living area with its lonely couch and tv. “Do you fly intoxicated all the time too?”
“Intoxi- you bastard! You drugged me?” Hawks barely contained the urge to sock Dabi in the back of the head right then and there. The villain shrugged.
“Shouldn’t accept drinks from villains.”
Scandalized, Hawks couldn’t help the rising pitch in his tone. “If you had offered it I wouldn’t have! But Compress isn’t an asshole like you are! What did you give me? Why?”
Dabi waved him off like it was no big deal and Hawks wondered if he would need to call in back up. Pointing to the couch, Dabi said, “It’s just melatonin you wuss, it wasn’t even my idea. Sit.”
Hawks crossed his arms, “I’m not tired.” He could feel the weight of the sky on his shoulders, but he chose to ignore it. He could beat a little bit of sleeping pills. He hadn’t even finished the glass, how strong could it be?
After the day Hawks had, it didn’t matter that there hadn’t been a single bit of drugs in his drink, he was nodding off on the League’s couch less than ten minutes later. Dabi had the sneaking suspicion, if they really had drugged him, he would have passed out where he sat after a single sip. It was laughable; all it had taken for Hawks to admit to himself he was tired, was blaming it on someone else. Idiot. He had looked like he flew into a billboard when they met up. It wasn’t his job to worry about the two-faced spy’s well being, but he hadn’t been lying when he said Hawks was part of his plan. He needed him in top condition if things were to proceed as planned in the coming months.
So when Dabi left just long enough to find a shitty throw blanket, it was no surprise he found the hero fast asleep when he got back. He was still upright and his wings were wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl. With his hands limp in his lap, he looked like a doll.
Dabi pushed the hero over onto his side. Hawks shot upright, wings flared only to swoon and grip the armrest. He muttered a dizzy, fuck, and relaxed back into the couch. His eyelids fluttered like a persistent infant’s. Dabi tossed the blanket in his lap but he simply stared.
“It’s a blanket feathers. Lay down and use it.” He watched with vague disinterest as the hero settled into the couch for the night without arguing. His half aware gaze never strayed far from his hovering figure, but eventually he seemed to give in because his wings stopped twitched and he tugged the blanket over his legs.
“Y’ gonna watch me sleep?”
He had clearly meant it to sound casual, but even tired, his apprehensive tone gave away his unease.
Dabi shrugged and leaned down to run his fingers over the stitches he had done on Hawks’ temple. “Making sure everything stays put.” He watched as the hero’s eyes fell shut under the pressure of his thumb. It was almost endearing. After all, he knew Hawks liked keeping everyone at arms length when he could, he appreciated the subconscious trust now. Hawks didn’t open his eyes again when Dabi let go, his shoulders’ rise and fall had already begun to slow.
Whether his audience could hear him or not, Dabi added, “Have Kurogiri send you home in the morning.” As expected he got no response so he ruffled Hawks’ fluffy hair and called it a night.