Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dabi is no stranger to insomnia.

It’s not easy for him to fall asleep. Especially not now, when he’s on a bed that’s not his own.

He wonders if this little arrangement is going to last.

He wouldn’t be particularly surprised if it doesn’t. He’s never been much of a “team-player” and all of these new developments feel so foreign to him. He doesn’t know how to work with other people—how to trust them, how to sleep in the same fucking building with them without knowing if the blonde teenager will or won’t slit his throat in the middle of the night.

Dabi’s almost sure she wouldn’t. Almost.

He stares up at the ceiling, waiting for the fatigue to take over so he can pass out peacefully. That’d at least be faster than trying to fall asleep on his own.

Dabi doesn’t expect Shigaraki to stay, but he does.

He’s awfully quiet—most likely trying to fall asleep on his side of the bed—but Dabi doesn’t let him stay silent for long. Dabi’s insomnia doesn’t improve even with a bed partner, as it seems. Not that Dabi expects anything different.

“Why’d you agree to do it?” Dabi asks in the darkness.

“What?”

“Y’know,” Dabi says. “Have sex with me.”

Dabi feels Shigaraki’s weight shift on the other side of the bed. It’s a foreign feeling for Dabi, who for most of his life has never had to share a bed with someone else. It’s a strange experience to listen to the bed creak when he wasn’t the one that moved.

“Because I felt like it,” Shigaraki says after a long pause. Evasive answer. Dabi expects no less from such a cryptic man. Yes, Shigaraki Tomura is quite the enigma, isn’t he? “Why did you offer?”

Dabi chuckles. It isn’t the same as his usual sarcastic laugh—it’s much softer. His room is so quiet that he couldn’t help but lower his voice when it’s so dark and they’re lying in bed together. It feels strangely intimate—even more intimate than the sex itself.

Is that weird to say?

“Why not?”

Shigaraki breathes out an exasperated sigh but it also comes out softer than it should be. Dabi feels the bed shift again—Shigaraki is turning his body so that he’s facing directly away from Dabi—and the covers being tugged the other way.

“Of course, you’d be the one to give that kind of bullshit answer.”

“Says the one who answered with, ‘because I felt like it’,” Dabi quips. They’re both being petty, Dabi knows. Maybe it’s because they’re both in such vulnerable positions that they couldn’t help it.

“Go to sleep,” Shigaraki orders.

“And if I don’t?” Dabi casually challenges.

“I’ll make sure this stays a one-time thing,” Shigaraki says and the words feel like a punch to his gut. One time thing. This is their first night together and Shigaraki’s already out here implying there would be more nights like this spent together.

It makes Dabi feel… a feeling that he doesn’t like. He doesn’t want this to be a habit or something continuous. He doesn’t.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t,” Dabi says with a smug tone. “It’s not like you were an amazing fuck anyways.”

The bed shifts once more and even in the darkness Dabi can see Shigaraki turning to give him a glaring side-eye before returning to the position he was in before.

“Go to sleep,” Shigaraki repeats. “I mean it.”

It was a rather tasteless joke, Dabi has to admit.

“Sure thing, boss,” Dabi says.

Insomnia’s a bitch, though, so he doesn’t.

Shigaraki doesn’t snore.

His breaths are light and airy. Usually the room is nothing but silent, but it’s different when Shigaraki’s around. When Shigaraki’s here, Dabi can listen and follow the pattern of the white-haired man’s breathing. It’s soothing (though he’d never admit it) and it definitely beats doing nothing while waiting to fall asleep.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Dabi always pegged Shigaraki for an insomniac, just like him, but he isn’t. Dabi’s almost jealous—but there’s also this burning curiosity that perhaps Shigaraki trusts him enough to be able to fall asleep by his side.

That’s the dangerous word, isn’t it?

Trust.

Is it trust? Or is it the mutual understanding that they could kill each other in their sleep if they desired to so they better not try anything should they both wanted to end up dead? Or is that in itself some twisted form of trust?

“Why the fuck am I still awake,” Dabi softly grumbles to himself. Shigaraki’s going to have a nightmare of a time trying to wake him up in the morning again.

Shigaraki doesn’t snore, but he talks sometimes in his sleep.

It’s weird. Most of the time, it’s just random words. It’s rather disappointing—one day, Dabi wants to catch the words that slip out of the man’s mouth that are never meant to be listened in on to.

Dabi supposes that technically even if it is gibberish coming out of Shigaraki’s mouth, they are technically words that Shigaraki doesn’t expect anyone else to listen to. He had the “privilege” that nobody else has.

Huh. How about that.

Hawks doesn’t even bother staying the first night.

The moment they’re finished, Hawks is slipping on his shirt (he asks Dabi for a little help in clipping the claps on his back together) and sliding into his saggy pants.

Against his better judgement, Dabi asks, “Going so soon?”

Not that he would ever expect Hawks to stay the night in a million years. Maybe that’s why he asks—not because he wants Hawks to stay but rather he already knows that Hawks won’t stay. Dabi knows the hero too well and the sex had already been pushing the limit of the trust they’ve built together.

Trust.

“Duty calls,” Hawks says, his voice distant. He leaves out the window without saying another word.

Dabi spends the rest of the night with his insomnia as his only company.

“You okay, mophead?” Dabi asks. “You seemed a little stiff tonight.”

Shigaraki doesn’t even respond. He’s already passed out on the bed, dead to the world. The lights aren’t even turned off yet.

Dabi feels strangely offended.

“Jesus Christ,” Dabi sighs. He’s about to move off the bed so that the lights can be turned off when a passing glance at Shigaraki turns into an on-the-nose examination of sorts.

Was his hair always that long? He could’ve sworn it wasn’t.

Dabi’s eyes trace along Shigaraki’s arms to the exposed skin of his chest to his face. They’re littered filthy with scars—some old (burned in Dabi’s memory by now) while others new. Most likely from the brutal beating he takes from Gigantomachia daily.

Dabi shakes his head, flipping the light switch off and climbing back into bed.

Dabi’s not even asleep when Shigaraki wakes up a few hours later to challenge the giant again.

Hawks’ yawn is crass against Dabi’s ears.

Dabi stares up at the ceiling, wondering what his life has become. What is he doing? Why is he letting himself fall into… whatever this is? (Was it a trap? Or was he the one luring the hero into a trap?)

“You mind if I stay the night?” Hawks asks and it’s a question that Dabi thought he’d never hear in his lifetime.

It’d be so easy to kill him tonight.

“Sure,” Dabi lazily says. The bedsheets haven’t been washed in a while however, and there’s still remnants of Shigaraki’s scent lingering on the other side of the bed. If Hawks notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

Hawks snores.

It’s loud. Distractingly so. It’s nothing like Shigaraki, who sleeps like a princess more than anything else (except when he occasionally talks in his sleep).

He’s also always facing Dabi, unlike Shigaraki who has enough common sense to face the other way when they fall asleep. Well—when Shigaraki falls asleep.

Dabi finds it annoying but he understands to an extent why the winged hero chooses to do it—it’s preferable to being battered around by those wings of his in the middle of the night. Still, Dabi wouldn’t be lying if he didn’t say it was unnerving knowing those eyes (even if closed) would always be on him during the night.

That brings Dabi to a startling realization:

Hawks is a horrible bed partner.

Completely horrible. Nothing redeeming about it at all. The sex? It was decent; even good if Dabi had to be honest. After the sex?

Terrible. Absolutely terrible.

Sometimes, the blanket would slide off Hawks’ body because of those inconvenient wings of his. The asleep hero would crave warmth during the night, so he subconsciously latches onto the warmest object nearby—him.

The thing is, Dabi is mostly sure the hero wasn’t aware of it. The hero would only latch onto him in the middle of the night, but he always let go before morning rolled around. Although, Dabi has to admit it would be amusing to see the hero’s mortified reaction to finding out about this little development.

Still doesn’t make the man any less terrible of a bed partner.

Shigaraki’s different.

Dabi can’t quite put his finger on what specifically, but he can tell.

Is it weird that he’s here even though they didn’t have sex last night? It feels… weird.

This feels like something intimate partners would do, not friends with benefits. Is that what they are? Friends with benefits—not the other… thing. Label. Whatever that is.

Intimate partners. The possibility of even having one has never crossed his mind. Then again, there’s a lot of things in life that he never thought would happen, but they did.

They almost died today.

It’s strange to Dabi, how he can casually admit that. He doesn’t want to die, no… not before he gets to see a certain bastard’s downfall. Yet, it’s strange how accepting Dabi is of the fact that they almost died today. In the back of his head, he always thought they were born to fail.

Yet they’re alive, and they were the ones who came out the victors.

They’re alive… for at least one more day. Or night.

“Dabi,” Shigaraki’s coarse voice cuts through the air.

“Yeah?” Dabi asks.

“Did you… ever have a family?”

Dabi freezes up. He already feels the instinctive “no” clawing its way up his throat and he knows he should say no to that question. It’s not Shigaraki’s business to know any of that information.

It’s not, he tells himself.

“Maybe,” Dabi answers. He should’ve answered no. He’s growing soft—too soft for his own liking. Too open. He’s becoming too vulnerable during these nighttime sessions when insomnia keeps him awake when nothing else does.

“I won’t pry,” Shigaraki adds. “I was just wondering.”

“Good, because that’s all you’re getting out of me.” Dabi rolls his head back on the pillow and he notes to himself that he needs to wash the sheets soon. Hawks’ scent is clashing with Shigaraki’s and it’s beginning to feel overwhelming to sleep in that bed every night.

“Do I take up too much space on the bed?”

“Yes.” The reply is automatic. Dabi doesn’t hesitate to answer that question with brutal honesty. Hawks lets out an amused huff but Dabi doesn’t find it all that amusing… alright, maybe a little.

“Ouch,” Hawks laughs quietly. “I didn’t think I’d be that bad.”

“How often do you sleep around?” Dabi asks, trying to sound uninterested. He probably failed. He can hear it in his own voice.

“Not that often,” Hawks says perhaps a little too fast. The way he responds is… odd. Like he knows more than he’s letting on or he’s hiding something that he doesn’t want Dabi to know about. “You?”

Dabi snorts at the obtrusive question. “Often enough.”

These nights are becoming more frequent than Dabi is comfortable with. It’s not even with strangers—it’s either always Shigaraki or Hawks. It’s those two of all the people in Japan he could pick to sleep with.

“I hope I’m considered above average,” Hawks quips, slightly shifting in his spot on Dabi’s bed. “The sex itself, I mean. I already know I’m not the most…”

“You’ve smacked me in the face with your wing before in the middle of the night,” Dabi says.

“…yeah,” Hawks winces. “S—”

Pause. “Sorry,” Hawks finishes the apology with hesitation. Dabi narrows his eyes in the dark, wondering why Hawks legitimately sounds sorry about something so inconsequential. Or maybe it’s because he’s embarrassed about it.

“It’s not a big deal,” Dabi says, because it’s not. Hawks making it a bigger deal than it should be makes him feel weird. This thing between them is weird. It’s just a fling. They shouldn’t be anything more.

A silence hangs after that remark.

“I don’t have to stay, you know. If you want me to leave—”

No shit, Dabi thinks. “Shut up,” he cuts Hawks off. “Just shut up. Stop speaking.” He’s not going to deal with this bullshit. They’re not going through this whole “do you want me to stay” ordeal.

If Hawks wants to stay, he’s welcomed to stay. If he wants to leave, he’s welcomed to leave. Dabi’s not going to pick a side on the matter—because it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t goddamn fucking matter. Why does Hawks think he wants anything?

“Okay,” Hawks says, and he doesn’t make a move to leave.

Of course, he doesn’t.

Why would he want anything?

Dabi’s not much of a touchy-feely type of person.

It’s dangerous. It feels so ridiculously dangerous to wrap his arms around a man who can decay him with just five fingers in a matter of seconds. Dabi’s doing it anyways. He can feel a few strands of Shigaraki’s hair on his face. It’s soft.

Softer than he thought it’d be.

Then again, he should know how soft Shigaraki’s hair is. He’s pulled on it before.

He’s grateful that Shigaraki stays silent. Any words spoken will have broken the moment they’re sharing together.

Dabi’s face grows slightly hot upon further brooding (of course, it’s his quirk and not anything else) and he thinks about how none of this makes… sense to him. How is this more intimate than the sex itself? How?

He doesn’t understand how this goddamn planet works. He always thought he was past the point of being capable of feeling flustered over matters like these.

Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been close to someone like this for so long. It’s just a misinterpretation of his own relationship with Shigaraki. This is nothing more than a fling.

It feels nice, though. Nice to pretend.

Dabi counts beats to the rhythm of Shigaraki’s breathing, tries his hardest not to focus on the feeling of Shigaraki’s skin being rubbed against his own scarred arms, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t fall asleep, but he can at least pretend that he is.

Dabi got a new bed.

Any evidence of either Shigaraki or Hawks having been on his bed is gone. There’s no loose strands of white or blonde hair nor are there are stray red feathers on the floor or on the sheets. He lies in his bed, alone, distracted by how this newly washed pillow smells like soap.

“It’s just me,” Dabi tells himself. There’s nobody else in the room that’ll respond to him. Shigaraki isn’t there to tell him to go to sleep and Hawks isn’t there to entertain his intentionally provoking jabs before he would inevitably fall asleep sooner than Dabi.

He’s just… alone.

This is not his bed.

“I can’t sleep like this,” Dabi declares to himself in frustration, rising up from his bed and leaving his room and his new bed as it is.

He doesn’t come back for the rest of the night.

He doesn’t sleep in Shigaraki’s bed often, but it feels familiar to Dabi anyways.

There are small differences in the beds they choose to sleep in. Dabi’s bed feels firmer than Shigaraki’s. It doesn’t matter to Dabi either way, but it’s something interesting to note. All he can do is notice the little things at times like these.

Speaking of little things, Dabi knows Shigaraki is more inclined to keep his distance from Dabi when they sleep in Shigaraki’s room.

It’s nothing personal.

If Dabi cared, he would have done something about it a long time ago. But he doesn’t. So, there’s nothing to do.

He doesn’t care.

Shigaraki is sound asleep obliviously on his side of the bed while Dabi stretches an arm out on the bed to measure how far apart their bodies are from each other.

The next day, he learns how to program the air conditioner to automatically blow cooler air into Shigaraki’s room during a specific time period (that just so happens to cover evening to sunrise). Whether or not Shigaraki notices the change, neither of them mentions it.

“You ever thought about using a sleep aid?”

Hawks’ face is dangerously close to his. He doesn’t feel the usual dangerous thrill of being so approximately close to the hero, however. This feels… different. Dabi doesn’t like how different it feels.

“Nah,” Dabi says. “It’s not my thing.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring, though?” Hawks asks. “Insomnia’s not a fun time, I would know.”

Dabi curiously peers at Hawks in the darkness. The winged hero is lying on his side, looking at Dabi with a borderline naïve expression. Like Hawks genuinely wants to know something inconsequentially personal about him, something that doesn’t have to do with the stakes at hand.

It sickens Dabi.

“What would you know about insomnia?” Dabi murmurs, taking his eyes off from Hawks in favor of the ceiling. The ceiling is nice. He can stare at the ceiling all night if he wanted to. Hawks’ face is a different story.

Not here. Not now.

“My mom told me once that I’d never stop crying as a baby,” Hawks says. “It’s because of my wings. They’re extremely sensitive to vibrations and where we lived wasn’t exactly the quietest of places. Even growing up, it never got any better.”

“And you started taking sleeping pills because of that?”

Hawks doesn’t answer right away. He leaves a gap—a small gap but a gap nonetheless—for a moment of silence.

“No,” Hawks answers.

It’s not the answer Dabi was expecting. It catches him off guard—what was the point of telling him to start taking sleep aids, then?

“I wasn’t able to,” Hawks adds.

Dabi waits for the hero to continue, but he doesn’t.

What was Dabi expecting? Why would Hawks explain further? There’s no point.

They’re not lovers nor friends nor even acquaintances. They’re just two men using each other and that’s all they’ve always been. The extra details in between don’t matter.

Dabi should really stop chasing for them.

Still, it mystifies Dabi. What does Hawks mean by that? Was it something about his quirk? Or was it because of other circumstances? What could it mean?

Dabi shouldn’t want to know, but he does.

“—Dabi?” Hawks calls out, snapping Dabi out of his thoughts.

Dabi blinks slowly, before saying, “What?”

“You weren’t saying anything,” Hawks says before adding in a joking tone, “Thought you might’ve died on me for a second there.”

And it’s funny to Dabi because there are so many nights in his life where he has almost died and if he really did die tonight, in a bed with the number two hero with his last conversation being about sleeping aids of all things, wouldn’t that just be the ironic cherry on top?

There are worst ways to go out, Dabi muses.

Dying here, in his bed, doesn’t sound so bad compared to other alternatives.

Shigaraki’s breath on his neck feels warm.

Dabi isn’t quite used to the way it feels when someone lies their head on him directly like this, but he’s slowly adapting to it. Dabi wonders how his own skin must feel like to other people—all scarred and rough around the edges. It doesn’t sound comfortable to sleep on at all.

Yet, Shigaraki isn’t bothered or repulsed about it in the slightest.

Dabi, making sure that the man is asleep, reluctantly cards his hand through Shigaraki’s locks of hair. Yep, it’s still soft as ever. What shampoo does Shigaraki use?

He thinks back to the one time they stepped into Shigaraki’s shower together and tries to remember what the shampoo bottle looked like. Next time, he’ll note it down. Next time, next time…?

He already knows there’ll be a next time. But what if there isn’t? What if he dies tomorrow? Or worse yet, what if Shigaraki dies tomorrow? It’s a weird thing to imagine—he can’t picture Shigaraki lasting longer in this world than him.

A world where he’s still alive and Shigaraki isn’t…

Dabi withdraws his hand from Shigaraki’s hand. He rests his hand on the man’s abdomen instead—or is that even too intimate for them?

…this is already an intimate position for them.

Dabi doesn’t know, he doesn’t fucking know. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, nor does he understand what the points of these… these nights are. The nights he spends with Shigaraki and the nights he spends with Hawks. It wasn’t an unwelcomed changed at first, but now…

Dabi realizes he’s landed himself in some deep shit.

Things are getting infinitely more complicated and Dabi just let them get to this point while he kept lying to himself that things would stay simple. It’s just a fling, he kept telling himself. Yet here they are, having grown so close to the point where he can feel’s Shigaraki breath on him and Dabi just accepts it.

He… wanted this. He wants this.

Fuck.

Funny how small the bed feels when there’s two people on it, but it always feels so unnecessarily big when it’s just Dabi.

Hawks could have stayed the night.

He was going to, but Dabi didn’t let him. He can’t let things escalate further than they already have. He needs to draw a line somewhere. He needs to reclaim the night for himself, to make sure this bed stays as empty as the way he found it.

Mission accomplished, because it definitely feels empty.

Dabi turns, he turns and turns around in the bed in a way he would have never been able to do should somebody have stayed the night and he curses himself and the insomnia that came with this cursed body of his. This body of his really is good for nothing.

Good for fucking nothing.

At least the sheets don’t smell like soap. Dabi would never admit it, but it makes the bed feel a little less lonely.

Hawks, aka the-worst-bed-partner-he’s-ever-had (to the hero’s defense, he hasn’t had that many in his life), strikes again.

The winged man is sprawled all over him messily. He’s even heavier than Shigaraki—probably because of the wings if Dabi has to guess. He’s lying face down with his head buried right under the crook of Dabi’s chin and Dabi has the strong urge to ask: Why?

Unfortunately for Dabi, he won’t get an answer. The hero’s already asleep. How convenient for him.

Then again, it’s not like it’s a meaningful question to ask. What answer would Dabi want from the hero? What would be better—an excuse or the truth? Either way, it wouldn’t end well for them. It’s not real. He can’t keep pretending that it’s real.

Dabi’s never seen Hawks sleep in this position before. In the past, he’s always slept on his side. It never left a lot of room for his side of the bed, but this position makes him feel even more trapped.

It’s worth it, though.

Because he learns that Hawks’ wings don’t like to stay completely motionless in this position. One would need to keep a close watch to notice it, but Dabi does. They slightly flap in time with Hawks’ breathing and snores.

It’s so incredibly stupid. It’s a habit that shouldn’t exist, that shouldn’t belong to Hawks (but who else would it belong to?) but it does exist, and it does belongs to the winged hero. Dabi, against his better judgement, brushes a hand ever so slightly over the hero’s wings…

It twitches violently when Dabi’s fingertips make contact with the feathers.

Hawks shifts on top of Dabi not soon after, groaning. “…Wh—at..?” The hero asks in a deeply confused voice, as if he’s completely unaware of his surroundings. His eyes open half-lidded and dazedly look up at Dabi. “…Huh…?”

Ah shit. Dabi should’ve known that this would happen—Hawks used to have fucking insomnia problems because of his wings. God, he feels like such a fucking idiot right now.

“Go back to sleep, hero,” Dabi tells him in a low voice. It comes out gentler than Dabi wanted it to be.

“—‘s what I was doing,” Hawks sleepily slurs, his eyes shutting back closed and he shifts one last time before lying contently still on top of Dabi. Again.

It doesn’t take long for the snores to come back.

Dabi can’t tell if he’s just imagining things, but he can smell Hawks’ distinct scent from the bed.

Shigaraki’s bed.

An interesting tidbit of information, isn’t it? Dabi doesn’t ask about it nor does he bring up the number two hero while in Shigaraki’s presence. It’s not his business.

That’s what he likes to think.

“You know, the least you can do is clean this bed up regularly if you’re going to sleep around,” Shigaraki murmurs.

Like you’re in any position to talk, Dabi thinks. But he doesn’t retort with that because he’s not supposed to care that Hawks and Shigaraki are seemingly have an affair with each other. So, instead, he feigns ignorance.

“What do you mean?” Dabi asks. “I just washed the sheets two days ago.”

He presumes Shigaraki can tell what Hawks’ scent smells like now. It’s not too strong this time around, however. At least, it shouldn’t be.

Shigaraki doesn’t give a verbal answer. Dabi hears the man shifting around besides him before he feels something light being placed on top of his face.

Shit.

That stupid-ass winged hero just really loves to keep proving how much of a horrible bed partner he is, doesn’t he? Of course, Dabi had missed one of the feathers and Shigaraki had somehow discovered one of them before he could throw it away. Fucking Hawks.

“Well,” Dabi says, not knowing how to reply to that. “You jealous?”

“How long has this been going on?” Shigaraki interrogates. And, for second, Dabi wonders if Shigaraki really is jealous because why else would he be asking that question? But jealousy—jealousy is dangerous, because it means a form of attachment and Dabi can’t handle that. No, not at all. That sort of relationship is not for him.

“A few months now,” Dabi answers.

“I’m not jealous.” For some strange reason, Dabi feels compelled to believe him despite everything. What the hell is going on? Is this normal? No, it isn’t. He just answered his own question—what is happening?

“…do you want me to stop?” Dabi asks.

He waits for an answer, but Shigaraki takes his sweet-ass time to think of an answer to his question. Eventually, Shigaraki says, “What I want you to stop is stop turning up the A.C. in my room every night. You’re making electricity bill go up like crazy.”

“I don’t, though,” Dabi says. It’s technically true because he hasn’t touched the thermostat for weeks. It’s only doing what he programmed it to do. But he’s not turning it up manually every night. Which is what Shigaraki accused him of doing.

“Liar,” Shigaraki accuses Dabi but he doesn’t push it further past that nor does he bring it up again.

Dabi feels better knowing that Shigaraki is off sleeping with Hawks some nights.

It makes all of this feel a little less surreal. A little less real. These flings meant nothing—it was all for the sake of pleasure and nothing else. There’s nothing on going between them. They were all sleeping around—so surely, it means there’s nothing more than what’s on the surface.

Fuck.

He wonders why Shigaraki chooses to sleep with Hawks. He wonders if Shigaraki notices the way Hawks sheds more feathers when he’s stressed or the way the man loves to grip on his bed partner tightly when it gets too cold.

Oh. No wonder Shigaraki’s pissed that he made his room colder. Well, shit. That’s his problem. He’s sure Shigaraki knows how to program the thermostat back to its default state. Or, at the very least, can let go of his pride enough to ask Spinner or Skeptic for help.

He’s alone tonight. He wonders if Hawks is still hanging around their headquarters—sleeping in Shigaraki’s bed? Or are the both of them sleeping around with even more members of the Paranormal Liberation Front that Dabi’s just not aware of? What kind of standards do they have when it comes to one-night stands?

How did they even meet each other’s standards?

How did Dabi even meet their standards? All these questions start to hurt Dabi’s head and the flurry of emotions that comes with them was even more of a headache to deal with. At least, Dabi knows the answer to how they met his standards: he doesn’t have any. Ha.

“Let me go to sleep,” Dabi groans to whatever god from up above happens to be watching him struggle in bed at the moment. Sleep would be preferable. Maybe then, he doesn’t have to think about all this goddamn meaningless crap…

Maybe he really should take sleep aids.

The bed is fucking crowded as shit.

God help them all. There’s like no elbow room—the bed can barely fit even two people and Hawks’ wings definitely aren’t helping the situation.

To Dabi’s left, Hawks is in dangerously close proximity lying on his side breathing air out onto Dabi’s cheek. To his right, Shigaraki pressed his forehead right against the spot right above his ear and he’s also obnoxiously breathing air out onto his face. Their arms—both Shigaraki’s and Hawks’—don’t have a lot of space either—the best they can manage is by entangling themselves in a mess around Dabi’s body.

God. God. This is suffocating. He needs a bigger fucking bed—no, he needs to limit the sex to two people. That should be a new rule. No more threesomes on Dabi’s bed—no more threesomes overall, no matter the bed. Dabi cannot deal with this shit again.

Dabi hopes to god that nobody in the nearby area can read minds because his is an absolute mess. He knew he was going to regret this, and the worst part about it is he was wrong—he doesn’t regret it. Fuck.

He let this happen. He let it escalate to this point.

Three of them. There are three goddamn people on this bed. This bed was, quite literally, too small for all of them to fit on. Three’s a crowd. Why did he have to be one in the middle?

“You awake?” Hawks murmurs in a low voice. He’s so close—it’s unbearable how close he is. His voice makes shivers run down Dabi’s spine and Dabi has to resist the urge to flinch in his own bed.

“Of course, he is,” Shigaraki says in a matter-of-fact tone. “He’s never the first one to fall asleep.”

Hawks snickers by his side at the snide remark and Dabi wonders if it would be a bad idea to burn the bed down to ashes right now so he could be spared from having to go through this. They were ganging up on him.

He’s not about to take this shit lying down. Literally.

“You snore,” Dabi bluntly tells Hawks.

“And you,” Dabi shifts his face slightly in the direction of Shigaraki, “talk in your sleep.”

“We know,” Hawks breathily snarks while at the same time Shigaraki eloquently says, “Shut up.” Those were two completely expected responses, considering whom they came from.

“How would you know?” Shigaraki asks Hawks. “You always fall asleep before I do.”

“I wake up easily,” Hawks pouted. God, Dabi hates the fact that he already knew that. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. “If you start yapping in the middle of the night, my feathers are gonna pick up the vibrations in your voice.”

“You both come with annoying sleeping habits, we get it,” Dabi sighs. “Although, one of you is worse off than the other.”

“Hey!” Hawks hisses defiantly.

“At least we sleep,” Shigaraki states. “Unlike somebody here.”

“Why complain about that? It’s not like that gets in the way of your oh-so-precious beauty sleep,” Dabi quips.

“I’m complaining because your productivity gets hindered from your lack of sleep,” Shigaraki snaps.

“What?” Dabi snaps back, glaring at Shigaraki in the dark. “I can last a whole day on just three hours of sleep. What do you mean my productivity?”

“We’ll speak about this tomorrow,” Shigaraki says, much to Dabi’s annoyance. Sure, it’s easy for him to sleep on this. Meanwhile, Dabi’s going to spend the entire night trying to figure out what Shigaraki meant by those words.

“Don’t mind me,” Hawks awkwardly says. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Yeah, that’s easy,” Dabi snarks. “Just pretend the third person taking up space on the bed isn’t here. Gotcha.”

“I can leave if you want,” Hawks offers. “It’s not like I live here, anyways.”

Dabi doesn’t answer, because he’s already made it very clear exactly how he feels about the “do you want me to stay” sort of questions. Unfortunately, Shigaraki picks up on it.

“Well, Dabi? You’re not going to answer him?” Shigaraki smugly asks.

Ok, now Dabi is starting to regret this. They’re definitely ganging up on him.

“Why the fuck are you asking me?” Dabi asks in frustration.

“Uh, because it’s your bed?” Hawks asks in a confused voice.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Dabi grunts. “I’m kicking the both of you out if you don’t fall the fuck asleep within the next five minutes.”

“Hypocritical coming from you,” Shigaraki says.

“Hypocritical coming from you,” Dabi echoes back. “You’re the one who’s so anal about going to sleep and waking up early because of this liberation army shit.”

“Liberation front,” Shigaraki corrects.

“Fucking whatever, man.”

“…Good night?” Hawks says in an uncertain tone after a brief moment of silence is shared between them. It’s so incredibly out of place and inappropriately timed that it makes Dabi want to laugh his ass off. He would if it weren’t for the fact that he was trying to get the other two to shut up and go to sleep.

To Dabi’s surprise, Shigaraki sighs out a low, “Good night,” back to Hawks.

Hesitantly, Dabi also mutters an almost inaudible, “Good night.”

He doesn’t sleep, of course, but he lies awake in bed to Hawks’ snores that inevitably come and Shigaraki muttering words into his neck. The bed is still undeniably crowded, but it starts to feel more and more familiar as the night goes on.

It’s his bed.

Trying new things is always daunting.

Hawks’ wings don’t feel as intrusive to sleep on top of as Dabi originally expected. The difference isn’t too noticeable—and honestly, Dabi thinks like he can fall asleep easier like this than when he’s in the middle. This is less claustrophobic for him; he feels less trapped in his own bed in this position.

Dabi wonders how Hawks can fall asleep like this, with him and Shigaraki on the other side lying on his wings that are supposedly the most sensitive part of his body.

It seems like there’s no real answer, however, because Hawks fell asleep the moment the lights were turned off. Dabi sums it up to fatigue taking over the winged hero—he thinks back to that night when he found Shigaraki passed out on the bed before he was even able to hit the light switch off.

How come he hasn’t had a night like that yet? Considering his horrible sleeping schedule, apparently the daytime naps do him enough justice.

…exactly how much does sleep does Hawks usually get on average?

Dabi stares at the ceiling, trapped in his own thoughts, listening to the uncoordinated noise of Hawks snoring and Shigaraki’s breathing mixed together. It’s not a particularly soothing nor pleasant symphony, but it’s the one Dabi’s stuck with.

Wow. This isn’t becoming a regular thing, is it?

Dabi thought it’d only be a one-time experiment, but maybe it was just a two-time experiment. How’d this happen, again? He remembers how the first night went, but two? Two?

Dabi finds that he can’t conjure up the exact memory of last night, however, and his eyes tiredly blink in the dark. What time is it now? He should be succumbing to sleep any moment now—it’s getting to that point where his mind is completely blank, and he barely has the strength to muster any thoughts.

Dabi’s droopy eyes can barely remain open at this point. He can feel himself succumbing to that delicious fatigue himself, lulling him closer and closer to a more peaceful state of mind—

Crash!

It comes from another room. It’s mostly muffled, because the walls in this building are surprisingly soundproof as shit. The crash itself isn’t loud. No, not at all. However, …

Hawks slightly jerks in place (he can’t move because Dabi and Shigaraki were holding his wings in place). Dabi’s already in the process of finally succumbing to sleep, however, so he doesn’t notice. That is, until Hawks grumbles something unintelligible before he begins to turn his body on his side to face Dabi’s direction—

Dabi’s eyes snap wide open at the sound of a body rolling off the bed and landing on the floor. Hawks startles awake, as well, at the noise and his freed wing starts flapping all over the place, feathers prickling on his back.

“—Fuck,” Shigaraki groans on the floor.

“…Huh?” Hawks sleepily moans, looking around with a disoriented expresion. Dabi, shaking his head trying to rid himself of fatigue and failing, tries to compute what just happened.

He can’t.

“You—” Shigaraki says slowly with a groggy voice, as if trying to figure out what just happened himself. “You pushed me off the bed. With your wing.”

“…Oh,” Hawks says dopily. “’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest. He’s probably too tired to even comprehend what he’s saying.

Dabi laughs shamelessly—he’s barely awake at this point and he has no filter over his own mouth, but he can comprehend that the situation is funny somehow in his sleep-deprived mind. He closes his eyes again, because they feel too heavy to keep open.

“…Move over,” Shigaraki groggily commands Hawks, trying to roll Hawks over to the spot he was originally sleeping in. He can’t, however, because Dabi’s pinning Hawks with his weight on his left wing.

“Can’t,” Hawks whines. “Dabi.”

There’s a hand lightly slapping on Dabi’s face trying to alert him to move off Hawks’ wing, but Dabi feels perfectly content in his own spot. He’s already in the process of finally being able to go to sleep, and he doesn’t want to move. Shigaraki’s just going to have to deal with it.

“Asshole,” Shigaraki hisses lowly.

Shigaraki climbs back on top of the bed and reaches over Hawks’ body to shove Dabi off the bed.

“Wh—!” Dabi hits the ground face first and he’s groaning in the slight ache that overtakes his body in the moment. Did that fucker just push him off the bed?

“The fuck,” Dabi wipes at his eyes, trying to wake himself enough to give Shigaraki shit for what the man just did. It doesn’t work. “You’re gonna pay for that tomorrow, you little shit.”

“I said move,” Shigaraki defensively says. “You didn’t listen.”

“I didn’t know you meant me,” Dabi says, climbing back over the bed where Hawks finally lies on the other side of the bed where he belongs and Shigaraki’s in the middle spot Hawks used to occupy. Dabi disgruntledly lies back down in his spot, irritated but too tired to do anything about it.

They learn from their mistakes.

Hawks is banned from sleeping in the middle under any circumstance.

Hawks decides to not stay the night this time.

It’s Shigaraki and Dabi alone on the bed together. Dabi wonders if there’s a particular reason why Hawks leaves—there’s something haunting about the way Hawks spoke right before he left that Dabi can’t put his finger on.

Maybe the hero’s finally starting to consider the consequences of his actions.

Good for him. Dabi’s not far behind, but he rather stay in the delusion for a bit longer. It’s nice, like this. Isn’t it?

The bed doesn’t feel so crowded anymore, but Shigaraki still lies closer to Dabi than they would have before the nights with Hawks had started. It’s a certain habit they’ve fallen into by now, isn’t it?

“Why did you stay?” Dabi asks, because he knows Shigaraki isn’t asleep. He just knows.

It’s a dangerous question to ask, even if it’s just Shigaraki. Shigaraki’s a dangerous man to become close with, arguably just as much as some goody-two-shoes hero like Hawks. Well, not as goody-two-shoes as Dabi had initially pegged him for. He hates that he knows the hero well enough to know that fact now.

Dabi expects some sort of bullshit answer as usual, one that would dance around the subject at hand.

Instead, Shigaraki says, “I like it here.” With you. The words are unspoken, but implied. Dabi’s mind fills the gap for them.

“You’re not afraid?” Dabi’s heart speeds up and he hates it. He hates this fucking body of his, for one reason or another. It certainly isn’t doing him any favors right now. He wonders if his own voice will betray the mask of indifference he’s so expertly crafted over the years.

“It’s too late for that,” Shigaraki says. He’s not wrong, Dabi knows. It’s not too late to back out, but it’s too late to deny the existence of… whatever this is.

“Do you think the others caught on yet?”

Shigaraki scoffs. “No.”

“Not yet, at least.” They’ve been good about keeping it in. How long is that going to last? Then again, Dabi can’t really picture… any of them being so outwardly affectionate with the other. Maybe he has misread this entire thing—maybe it is just the sex they stayed for.

It has to be, right?

Dabi’s thoughts are interrupted when Shigaraki unexpectedly shifts and starts moving into a position where he’s leaning over Dabi. Dabi wonders if Shigaraki wants a round two—this time without Hawks—but his mind goes completely blank when Shigaraki presses his lips onto Dabi’s.

They stay like that for a few minutes, making out with each other in the dark with Shigaraki holding himself up over Dabi practically lying on top of the man.

The butterflies (really? Fucking really?) in Dabi’s stomach churn and he’d be lying if he said it was a completely pleasant sensation to experience. The butterflies. Not the making out part.

He doesn’t know how to deal with these emotions at all. All he can tell himself is he’s in deep shit and he knows it, but he doesn’t know how to go about it or—

“You think too much,” Shigaraki complains when he pulls back and rolls back to his spot by Dabi’s side. “It’s annoying.”

“Can’t help it,” Dabi mutters, his voice more vulnerable than he’s heard it in years. Fuck. This is really happening, isn’t it?

“If only you put as much thought into your work,” Shigaraki says but there’s no bite to his voice. He’s trying to break the tension in the room with their usual banter, but all Dabi can focus on is how hot his face feels at the moment and the exceeding amount of alien emotions trying to claw their way up his chest.

“Shit,” Dabi sighs out loud, because he needs to let it out. “Shit.”

“You’ll be fine,” Shigaraki reassures him sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve been through worse together, haven’t we?”

That’s true.

“Nothing like this,” Dabi says, voice strained. Shigaraki wraps an arm around his upper body and snakes it back around his neck. He leans in even closer than before.

“Get used to it, then.”

They stay just like that.

Dabi doesn’t say anything more for the rest of the night.

“Do you think we could’ve been friends?” Hawks asks. “If things didn’t turn out the way they did?”

Shigaraki’s sleeping in the middle again. He seems to mind it less than Dabi, much to Dabi’s relief. They’re in Shigaraki’s room this time.

“No,” Dabi says, because why would he say yes? So they can feel even more shit about themselves? What’s the use in that?

Shigaraki’s awake, but he stays quiet in response to the question. Maybe he’s thinking the same exact thing as Dabi—the unwillingness to even indulge in such a pointless fantasy. So what if they became friends in another universe? It’s not this one.

“Someone’s cynical,” Hawks teases but it doesn’t contain any of the usual energy that the winged hero speaks with.

“Would we even know each other?” Dabi asks, staring up at the ceiling twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly. “I don’t think we’d ever cross paths.”

“You don’t know that,” Hawks argues weakly. “It’s just some food for thought, anyways.”

“Is it, though?” Shigaraki inserts himself into the conversation.

Hawks chuckles softly. “You can interpret it however you like, I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

When Hawks’ chuckles die down, the room becomes filled with silence once again. Maybe it’s for the better. Conversation between them should be sparse, anyways.

This isn’t supposed to last. Dabi can’t let himself dare think otherwise for a second.

“Sorry for asking,” Hawks blurts out. “I guess it is kind of a weird question to bring up.”

Yeah, considering who they are. Dabi bites back the urge to snap “You think?”.

It’s the sort of question someone asks when they think they’re going to die soon. Considering the situation, Dabi wonders if Hawks truly believes that.

Would he mourn for the hero should he die? Isn’t that what heroes were born and made to do? Sacrifice themselves—their body, their soul, their life—for the sake of the job? Is that something Hawks is entirely prepared to do?

Hawks would. Hawks absolutely would.

Temperatures have been lower than they’ve been all year long, and Dabi finds himself being forced in the middle spot by Shigaraki practically every night they’re together now.

It’s obvious that Shigaraki and Hawks are using him as a heater.

They curl their bodies around Dabi’s and Hawks’ horrid habit of clutching on to him has returned. He’s so clingy when he gets like this—it’s annoying but amusing at the same time.

At first, it’s unbearable.

It doesn’t take long for Dabi to just… adapt, though. Eventually, he doesn’t even notice how claustrophobic he’s supposed to feel with two bodies lumping themselves close to his. It’s not supposed to turn out like this, Dabi reminds himself.

It hits Dabi that this—this is very intimate.

He is such a god damn fucking idiot. They’re practically cuddling him at this point, pressing their bodies right up to his just to retain any warmth they can from his own body. They’re using him by cuddling with him.

Of all the times he’s been used by other people in his life, this just takes the fucking cake. It’s so unexpectedly mundane and surprising yet not unwelcomed—

No.

It’s wintertime. When that passes, they’ll stop. They have to, right? His body is too hot to cuddle with given any other time of the year.

Dabi’s not good at convincing himself of certain things. He’s lied to everyone else in his life—so why can’t he lie to himself?

Either Dabi’s going crazy, or Shigaraki went and bought a new bed.

There’s no way this bed is as big as it used to be. Shigaraki definitely took it upon himself to get himself a new bed delivered, apparently.

Dabi wonders how that conversation with Skeptic must have gone.

Nobody comments on it. Dabi’s sure Hawks must have noticed, given how unnervingly observant the man can be sometimes, but the hero doesn’t bother bringing it up.

That’s how a lot of their relationship goes.

Unspoken words that were read in between the lines of what was spoken. Somehow, they had turned even this into a dangerous game of sorts.

But who is winning?

That’s the real question. What even is the definition of winning? Can anyone truly win? No. This game of theirs is so miniscule to everything else happening in their lives…

There is no winner. Everyone here is a loser. But especially Hawks—he’s a big loser. A big fucking loser for ever having chosen to be a hero.

Dabi’s in the middle spot. Again. Figures.

“Do you ever think about dying?” Hawks casually hums, because that’s a lovely conversation starter to open up with. It seems like their little resident hero has been thinking about death more than usual lately. “Like, what happens to us afterwards?”

“Can’t be any worse than being alive,” Shigaraki retorts. “I bet it’s as shit, even.”

“I don’t think about dying,” Dabi says, which isn’t true. “There are things I want to do before I die.”

“What sorta things?” Hawks presses and the hero should already know that it’s none of his business to ask. How rude.

“Things that don’t involve you,” Dabi clarifies, causing Hawks to wince in mock pain.

“Ouch, Dabi. And here I thought we were starting to get know each other better,” Hawks jokes, but it’s not really a joke considering they’ve been sleeping in the same bed consistently for only god knows how long now.

“You don’t know me,” Dabi says.

“The same could be said to you about me,” Hawks replies, keeping a light tone.

“Both of you are horrible at this,” Shigaraki hisses. “How you were ever chosen and sent here to spy on us is still a mystery to me.”

Hawks freezes.

Dabi can’t help it—he bursts out laughing at Shigaraki’s bluntness. He’s laughing so hard; his stitches feel like they’re about to pop off and his stomach starts to hurt. Hawks remains completely still throughout it all.

It was supposed to remain unspoken, but Shigaraki went “fuck that” and went for the kill. He really does call all the shots in this relationship, doesn’t he?

“Oh,” Hawks says dumbfoundedly. Dabi hopes for the hero’s sake that he didn’t truly believe he was fooling any of them. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t tell me you’re about to have an epiphany too,” Shigaraki groans. “I already get enough of that shit from Dabi.”

“What?” Dabi asks accusatorially.

“Don’t even try to pretend,” Shigaraki says. “Or do you want me to bring it up in front of him? Actually, that’d make everything easier so I’ll just—”

“I will burn this bed down if another word comes out of your mouth,” Dabi warns. “Go to sleep, mophead.”

“Do I even dare call you out again for being the one to say that?”

“Wait a minute, what was it that you wanted to bring up?” Hawks desperately pleads Shigaraki. Dabi elbows Hawks in the side for asking.

“Didn’t you hear the boss? Go to sleep.”

“Since when were you made the boss?” Shigaraki says with amusement thick in his voice. Dabi feels ready to fall back on his threat of burning the bed down. “Or did I miss that certain promotion?”

“He’s joking,” Dabi says, mostly for Hawks’ sake. “In case you were going to report that to your higher ups.”

“I’m not—” Hawks’ voice nervously chokes and it’s such a blatantly dead giveaway that Dabi almost feels bad for the hero. “I’m committed. To the cause.”

“Sure,” Shigaraki says casually. He doesn’t even care, does he? “Will you go to sleep for our cause, then, valiant hero?”

Dabi cracks up again and he realizes he doesn’t mind this as much as he should.

Hawks is sitting on the edge of bed upright. He’s facing the window and it’s the middle of the night—Shigaraki is sound asleep on the other side of the bed.

It’s not like Hawks to have insomnia too, but it seems his has infected Hawks for the night.

“You leaving?” Dabi asks, trying to sound disinterested. Shigaraki would be better at these types of conversations.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Hawks says. Idiot, Dabi thinks because he’s only just now realizing this? What has been going through that thick bird head of his this entire time? “I mean, this—you weren’t supposed to know. At least, you weren’t supposed to tell me that you knew this entire time.”

“So, you’re leaving.” Dabi doesn’t even bother.

“I should,” Hawks says and there’s this certain reluctance in his voice. Like he’s expecting Dabi to convince him to stay. Him, of all people!

That’s too much to expect of him.

“Then go,” Dabi tells him. “If it means so much to you.”

“It?” Hawks asks, his back still turned to Dabi. Dabi watches him while lying on his spot on the bed (the middle, as usual since winter hasn’t left them yet). “What is ‘it’?”

“Being a hero,” Dabi says. “Saving people. What ever happened to ‘duty calls’?”

“A hero needs time to sleep, too, believe it or not,” Hawks quips. “I guess, technically, the bed he sleeps on doesn’t matter.”

“That’s your excuse for sleeping in the same bed as two villains?” Dabi snorts. “Real convincing stuff, right there.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Hawks stands up and leaves out the window without saying another word.

The fucker doesn’t even bother closing back the window. Dabi wonders if he may have somehow pissed the hero off, but all he did was tell the truth.

It’s Hawks’ fault if he can’t accept it.

Hawks doesn’t come back this time.

They don’t have sex. Shigaraki still comes back to sleep on his bed, though. He supposes their relationship has escalated to the point where that’s normal.

Shigaraki doesn’t mention Hawks.

Shigaraki wraps himself around Dabi even more this time around—his arms curl around his back and their bodies are pressed together while they’re both lying on their sides—it’s grossly romantic. Too intimate for whatever level of closeness they’re supposedly at. It just is.

Dabi can’t stare at the ceiling like this, but he doesn’t have the energy to push Shigaraki away.

Dabi stares at the wall instead. He doesn’t even get to face the window—how cruel. Fucking insomnia.

It’s just the two of them tonight.

No, not Shigaraki. Hawks. Him and Hawks. Dabi can’t tell if it’s because Shigaraki actually did have work to complete or if he knows that they have to… address about whatever happened last time.

They don’t have sex.

It was the intention, but they don’t go through with it. Instead, they’re sitting on opposite ends of the bed with their backs turned against each other and neither of them are horny at the moment, anyways. They had to do something even more difficult than the usual business: talking.

Actually communicating with each other.

Which is funny because they talk to each other every day—it’s how they primarily exchange information. But an actual heart-to-heart conversation?

…It’s nearly impossible.

“It’s obvious,” Dabi is the first one to break the silence, “that you… stay for one reason or another.”

Hawks remains quiet. He must be thinking. Dabi doesn’t dare turn around to check. First one to turn around loses, or so the imaginary game in his head goes.

Wait, how would he know when Hawks loses, then?

“Dabi, what am I to you?” Hawks asks.

The question startles Dabi. It’s not something he expected the hero to bluntly ask him, and it’s a bit unfair considering Hawks hadn’t acknowledged what he said first.

“Annoying,” Dabi says, and he doesn’t need to look at Hawks to know the hero must be absolutely dripping with disappointment right now. If Shigaraki heard him say that, the man probably would have smacked him for being such an idiot.

“…Cool,” Hawks replies. “You’re annoying to me, too.”

God fucking…

“You’re also…” Dabi grits out, “something to me.”

“Something, huh?”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Hawks huffs in amusement. “Is it really so hard to admit that a person is something to you?”

“You try it, then!” Dabi growls, forfeiting the game by turning around but to his surprise, Hawks had already lost the game some time ago. Dabi must be making a face that the hero’s never seen before, because Hawks’ eyes are widened at the sight of his “vulnerable” side.

Fuck. Fuck.

Now he has to kill Hawks. It’s already bad enough that Shigaraki’s seen what he’s like when he’s vulnerable, but for Hawks—

“W—well,” Hawks averts his eyes away from Dabi’s, cheeks slightly tinged a glowing red and eyebrows furrowed. “It would be, ahem, very unprofessional—”

“We’ve had sex,” Dabi reminds him. “Multiple times.”

“That’s different!” Hawks argues. “That was when I could still say it was for the sake of the mission!”

“Was it for the sake of the mission?”

“Yes—I mean, no—it’s complicated!” Hawks insists. “Do you know how long I’ve spent thinking this over?”

“Then, you should make up your fucking mind about it already.”

Hawks deflates, probably because he knows Dabi’s right, and he turns away from Dabi to stare at the window.

“There’s nothing to make up my mind about. Everything’s already been decided,” Hawks says. “That’s how it’s always been.”

So, the hero’s made his choice.

“But I want to make the last of it while I can,” Hawks adds. “So, I’ll stay.”

—Or not.

Somehow, it makes Dabi even more uneasy than if the hero would have just admitted he was too committed to his ideals and had to stop sleeping around with them.

“Who is it that you work for?” Dabi asks casually. Not because he’s actually fishing for information, but because he wants to make a joke.

Unfortunately for him, Hawks assumes the worst. He tenses up before asking, “Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering what they’d think if they knew you were sleeping with the enemy,” Dabi jokes. “Think you could argue your way out of it?”

Hawks shifts against Dabi. He’s getting embarrassed from the thought, isn’t he?

“Imagine what the league would say if they found out,” Shigaraki cuts in. “Or worse: Skeptic or Re-destro.”

“Re-destro wouldn’t give a shit,” Dabi says. “In fact, he’d probably get jealous he was never in on it this entire time.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Hawks begs Dabi, completely mortified at the aspect Dabi presented. “I don’t want to think of that guy in that kind of light.”

“Don’t worry,” Shigaraki reassures Hawks, “Dabi’s just a pervert.”

“It was a joke,” Dabi defends himself.

“It was a disgusting joke,” Hawks adds. “I’m not ever going to be able to look at that guy the same after this.”

“Then, don’t. I don’t even understand why you talk to him. He’s not involved in any of the big plans,” Shigaraki says and Dabi raises an eyebrow. Should the man really be revealing that kind of info to Hawks?

“Good to know, but at the same time I don’t think I can trust you when you say things like that,” Hawks says. Ah. Shigaraki’s too good at this “game”. Dabi doesn’t even want to bother playing most of the time.

“I’d prefer to keep it that way,” Shigaraki smoothly says.

“So, that’s how this is gonna work,” Hawks notes. “Do you normally let spies into your bed? Or am I just that special?”

“No, unless Dabi here has something he wants to confess,” Shigaraki says. Dabi rolls his eyes. No, he isn’t a spy.

“He’d make a horrible spy,” Hawks says. “Have you seen his disguises?”

“Have you seen his disguises?’ Dabi repeats.

“I’ve never worn a disguise—”

“I meant Shigaraki,” Dabi interrupts Hawks. “He doesn’t even bother covering his face. At least I do that now whenever we meet in public.”

“Shigaraki’s… different,” Hawks says. “His face isn’t as… recognizable.”

Oh. Because of his scars. Nice.

“I’d make a better spy than you,” Dabi says, peeved.

“I’m sure you would,” Shigaraki sarcastically grunts, already tired of the conversation. “I hope this doesn’t turn into a competition of who-can-betray-me-the-fastest.”

Dabi scoffs while Hawks says, “But I’m already winning.”

“Just because we know that you’re a spy and we haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean we won’t in the future,” Dabi warns Hawks but the threat sounds hollow even in his own ears.

Hawks shrugs. “I came into the mission knowing that.”

It’s wrong. Dabi knows that attitude a little too well, and he hates that the hero is wearing it. It’s so fitting given what he knows about the man, but it shouldn’t be.

“I’m tired of hearing about ‘the mission’,” Shigaraki declares. “We get it, you’re a spy. Did you want me to give you a medal for your services?”

“Depends on what the medal looks like,” Hawks says. “Is it shiny?”

Dabi chokes on his own spit. “Is this a bird thing?”

Shigaraki’s sleep talking patterns are usually abnormal, but tonight they’re abnormally predictable.

Shigaraki starts muttering the name “Hana” under his breath in his sleep. He doesn’t stop at muttering it once, however. He repeats it over and over like a mantra stuck in his head.

Hawks’ snoring stops when Shigaraki starts sleep talking. The hero shuffles and Dabi could tell his wings were twitching from the vibrations of Shigaraki’s voice.

It escalates further.

Shigaraki begins to turn in his sleep and the pace of his breathing starts to quicken. This isn’t normal. The “Hana”s start to come increasingly faster and with higher frequency.

Shit.

Dabi puts a hand on Shigaraki’s shoulder and tries to shake the man awake but the man’s too enraptured in his own nightmare. Hawks’ eyes droopily open and he’s watching Shigaraki in a confused daze, not fully understanding what’s happening.

“Father!” Hawks jumps at the sound while Dabi flinches at how loud and just… blood-curdling the scream is. Shigaraki fumbles around, clearly awake, and Dabi doesn’t know what to do. Shigaraki doesn’t usually have nightmares and the nightmare was obviously personal to him. He doesn’t want to get “into it”.

Hawks holds onto Dabi’s arm while observing Shigaraki. He doesn’t need to do that. Oh god, why is he holding onto Dabi’s arm like a lifeline? And why does Dabi find it cute?

“Shigaraki, y’okay?” Hawks asks in a concerned tone.

“It was a nightmare,” Dabi notes. Shigaraki’s panting at the moment (not the sexy kind either), shaken breaths mingled with the occasional wheezing. Dabi hesitates and decides to do something he’s never done before during these sorts of nights.

“I’m going to turn the light back on,” Dabi declares.

“No,” Shigaraki rasps, pulling on Dabi’s other arm. Great, now they were both tugging on his arms. Dabi lets himself get pulled back down onto the bed. It’s not like he wanted to leave the warmth of the covers anyways.

“I’m fine,” Shigaraki says before coughing.

“Are you sure?” Hawks says. “I could get you some water if you’d like—”

“I’m fine,” Shigaraki insists. “I don’t need your hero complex, thanks.”

“Well, excuse me, for worrying about you,” Hawks sarcastically retorts. “Didn’t know you took such offense to that.”

“Fuck,” Shigaraki curses, closing his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Here,” Dabi says. “Let’s switch places.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Dabi crawls out of the blankets. “You be in the middle. You’ll feel better that way.”

“Good idea,” Hawks agrees. “For once.”

Dabi lazily flicks Hawks in the face for the rude remark before slipping under the covers to the side of the bed, letting Shigaraki scoot into the middle spot.

“Happy?” Shigaraki murmurs.

Hawks closes in onto Shigaraki, snuggling his head in the crook of Shigaraki’s neck and Dabi rests his face on Shigaraki’s chest right underneath the man’s chin. Shigaraki takes a few minutes to doze back to sleep and he’s left undisturbed for the rest of the night.

“Is Hawks your real name?” Shigaraki asks and it is one of those dangerous off-limit questions that should never be asked. Hawks doesn’t mind, though.

“Nah,” Hawks answers. “Most people call me by my hero name, though.”

Dabi stares at the ceiling.

“What about you? Is ‘Shigaraki Tomura’ your real name?”

Shigaraki scoffs. “Obviously.”

“How comes there’s no records for someone of that name, then?” Oh boy. Hawks is really getting into this, huh?

“How would I know?” Shigaraki snaps.

Dabi feels like Shigaraki Tomura isn’t a real name, either. It’s a gut feeling and nothing more—Dabi doesn’t have any solid evidence backing that claim up.

“What made you suspect Hawks wasn’t my real name in the first place?” Hawks asks after realizing he’s not getting an answer further than that from Shigaraki.

“What kind of parent would name their kid Hawks?” Dabi cuts in.

“If they saw the wings first…” Hawks says.

“Were you born with your wings already attached to your body?” Dabi says. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want that image in my head.”

“Speaking of names that parents would give, do you really expect me to believe someone would name their kid ‘Dabi’?”

“I never said it was my real name,” Dabi scowls. “I came up with it. It means cremation.”

“It’s so… weird,” Hawks says.

“No, it’s not,” Shigaraki replies. “What’s weird about it?”

“And how is it any weirder than ‘Hawks’?” Dabi adds.

“Never mind,” Hawks pouts. “And it is weirder than Hawks. Don’t ask me why—it just is.”

“Sure,” Shigaraki says offhandedly.

Winter passes.

The nights continue, though. Dabi’s no longer the designated “middle” person, that title having gone back to Shigaraki. (No, of course Dabi doesn’t miss being in the middle. Why would he…?)

Hawks practically comes every other night now. He has a rather irregular schedule, but Dabi’s almost sure that the only sleep the hero ever gets is when its with them. He suspects that the hero is actually working shifts on the nights he’s not there.

So, Dabi’s worst nightmare technically came true.

This… is a thing now. Dabi himself has acknowledged it’s a thing and he can’t deny the existence of it anymore. Strangely enough, however, he finds himself… wanting to let go of the façade he desperately tries to cling on to. He can’t—no, not yet. But he finds himself slipping with each and every night that passes.

The bed’s never lonely anymore, whether it’s his or Shigaraki’s. Shigaraki’s there every night, and Hawks shows up pretty consistently now (especially considering circumstances).

Dabi still hesitates a little when he leans in close to Shigaraki on the bed, but he’s more or less used to it by now. Which is strange, because he never thought he would. He just keeps finding ways to surprise himself, it seems. Maybe this body isn’t as good-for-nothing as he originally thought.

The insomnia doesn’t ever go away.

That’s fine. He never thought he’d be saying this, but the sleepless nights are more bearable than they’ve ever been in his life.

(He's never been in love before. If he is in love, then he’s definitely fallen deeper in than he would like to admit.)