Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Whenever you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love.”

- Mahatma Gandhi

-

“No need to play messenger - I heard you loud n’ clear!” 

The chamber ignites in a blinding flash of white and blue. Torrential waves of fire rush in, coupled with massive amounts of shattered glass and debris from the explosion. Hawks grits his teeth as his vision and lungs get seized by the sudden onslaught of heat. Destruction deafening in all directions like thunderclaps, the hero drops the sharpened feather in his hand to properly shield Twice’s collapsed form beneath him. 

Until a harsh kick to his side sends him flying.

Hawks rolls on the concrete floor, painfully accumulating tread marks on bare skin and skids to a stop on his stomach. A heavy boot stomps on his left temple, cracking his visor.

Dabi seethes above him, grin wide and manic, and leans his full weight onto the fallen hero. “You didn’t see me coming, did ya? ‘I don’t make mistakes,’ my ass, hero!”

Mouth dry from the thick smoke, Hawks is unable to even cry aloud when a brilliant blue inferno engulfs his entire body. But experience and desperation move him; before his wings could totally burn away, a long primary feather flies to his hand, its hollow shaft wrapping around his wrist, to drag him out from under Dabi’s feet. He grabs Twice along the way - 

“You kidding me?” Dabi startles. 

- and immediately collapses across the room, carrying open flames upon his jacket and wings. Hawks pants, adrenaline numbing his pain sensors but still feeling dread pool in his stomach as the flames douse out into mere fumes, blackened flakes fluttering to the ground all around him. 

And then Hawks freezes. 

Because in stark realization, he’s fine. Altogether unscathed. Sure, he’s got a few scratches and a broken visor and his clothes may be seared, but there’s distinctly a lack of burns on him - on his skin and wings. As if he hadn’t just been blasted by Dabi’s terrifying quirk. 

Needing validation in his bewilderment, Hawks spreads his wings wide in all its glory, painting the damaged room blood-red from the sunlight backdrop behind him. He catches Dabi’s wide-eyed stare as the hero meticulously counts and testily quivers each of his arsenals from the smallest plumage to largest primaries. They’re all similarly covered in soot with pieces of glass or rubble lodged in the vanes, but somehow intact. Functional and unburnt. 

What the hell?  

Hawks flinches at the sound of a pained groan beside him, glancing to find Twice holding his head in his arms and shaking, all visible skin bearing swollen redness; they’re signs of fresh burns, something Hawks should’ve also had. Except, he doesn’t.

“You...you nearly burnt your friend, y’know,” Hawks says, in lieu of addressing the elephant in the room. Though he’s confused, the hero needs to be situationally aware; he’s on a pivotal mission to capture Twice, and this is, unfortunately, turning into a standoff against a highly volatile villain. 

And Dabi appears to be spiraling, looking at Hawks then at his taut stapled hands then back, with an expression Hawks has never seen on the villain before. 

But it soon devolves into one of familiar anger. “What the hell did you do?” Dabi snarls.

Hawks jerks, sensing the atmospheric temperature spiking dangerously and quickly wraps his arms around Twice’s midsection. It’s the proper judgment because, in the next instant, a large fireball soars at the exact spot the two were. The hero dodges easily, initially sideways but when the flames scatter still in rage towards them, he takes flight with a powerful beat of his wings. 

“Damn it, Dabi - stop it!” Hawks screeches, eyes darting around frantically in search of an escape route. 

“Shut up!” Dabi roars, surrounding the entire room in flames. 

The wind pressure from Hawks’ flapping wings is dispersing the smoke and dousing some sparks, but he’s still in a precarious position. All windows are locked or haphazardly cracked, with the only exit blocked by Dabi. The hero would’ve been fine by himself, but he won’t be able to relocate Twice safely against Dabi, who seems too crazed to worry about the safety of his friend at the moment. There’s not a single direction that’s not dyed in brilliant and scorching blue; even the edges of Dabi’s coat and leather heels are teetering beside open pits of fire. 

He’s caging himself like this too, Hawks thinks. At this rate, he’ll collapse soon from his own reckless actions.

When Hawks notices Dabi heave out a thick fume of smoke past mismatched lips and stapled seams, displaying obvious first signs of overheating, a dangerous feeling surfaces; it's one of familiarity and apprehension and sorrow for Dabi. And the hero has to forcibly remind himself to not rush forward. To what? Secure the villain? Break Dabi's fall to prevent him from getting hurt? 

Hawks’ breath hitches as a sudden memory floods his senses -

.

.

.

“You here to finish me off, hero?” Dabi smiled, grim and mocking, despite his broken body lying in the alleyway.

.

.

.

- and the hero shudders, Dabi’s fallen image overlapping with that of the present. 

Too many times has Hawks caught the villain downed and surrounded by charred bodies of failed recruits or too wicked criminals by his standards, unable to even lift a finger to call his teleporter friends while internally boiling and bleeding onto cold gravel. Hawks has often wondered if one day, he’d be too late. He doesn’t know which would be worse: that he’d be witness to a deceased Dabi, dirty and desecrated, within some obsolete location; or that Dabi would pass quietly, purpose and existence forgotten in due course and left as a mere bullet point on a report filed away within the Hero Commission’s records. 

The fact that Hawks is pitying and caring for Dabi at all should be a red flag, but months as a double agent have truly screwed with Hawks’ mind. 

Dabi is a distraction. An effective and deadly one. 

Because as Hawks stares down Dabi, feelings in turmoil from the beautiful turquoise eyes glaring at him, the hero doesn’t notice Twice regaining consciousness in his arms. A sharp elbow to his ribs causes Hawks to gasp, hold loosening enough for Twice to squirm free. 

“Light him up!” Twice falls to the ground, scrabbling on all fours towards the exit and unhesitantly taking the shortest route through a wall of flames. “Hot! That’s burning cold!”

“With you alone, we can get rid of these heroes.” Dabi coordinates an assist promptly, synergy brimming between the two villains, and sends the largest fireball yet towards the hero. “Go wild! The others are waiting for you!”

“Yeah - okay!” Twice cries as blood splatter from his wounds with every step, but determination drives him, high fiving Dabi on the way and activating his quirk in mass.

“I said don’t move!” The hero bellows, speeding along the ceiling and pushing past the disorienting upwind from the fire.

Hawks dispatches a bundle of sharpened feathers, accurately stabbing the cervical nerves of all the incomplete clones and instantly collapsing them. When Twice screams in frustration, form slightly melting from pushing his quirk’s limits but still on his feet and once more blinking shoddy clones into existence, Hawks redirects his feathers with intent to stab the back of the real Twice’s legs. At this point, the hero’s hesitancy in harming a good person can’t possibly outweigh the consequences of Twice successfully escaping him. 

But a heated body suddenly interjects his weapons’ path. 

Hawks flinches, unable to focus fast enough to soften them before two feathers, emulating the size and sharpness of carving knives, lodge right into Dabi’s bare chest. The hero lets out an involuntary shriek. “No - !”  

As Dabi stumbles back, hissing through his gritted teeth, Hawks freezes with bated breath for the blood - for the gruesome slicing of flesh - for the feeling of puncturing Dabi’s heaving lungs and throbbing heart; and oh god, Dabi could die right here and now. Because of him. 

“No, no, no.” Hawks chants in his panic and drops to the ground before the villain, shaking - praying - with his reaching hands that Dabi is fine. 

And somehow, he is fine. 

The two feathers flutter senselessly to the ground, and Hawks chokes at the sight. Because Dabi’s chest isn’t marred aside from his usual burns and some fresh ones from his previous quirk usage; there are slight indents as if blunt needles had teased his pale skin but nothing to indicate that he had just been viciously stabbed.

“N - no way.” Hawks shakes for an entirely different reason now, realization causing him to break out in cold sweat at the implications that he couldn’t harm Dabi or vice versa. “You can’t be my -” 

“Ha.” A hoarse rasp sounds, searing grip seizing Hawks’ outstretched wrist. Dabi pushes his face right into the hero’s, eyes gleaming and grin so wide a staple has popped out. “The Hero Commission is gonna cry from this, huh? Their perfect little pet has a villain soulmate.” 

“Dabi -” Hawks attempts to yank back his arm but goes taut when it tears another staple holding Dabi’s gaunt hand together.

Just like that…? Hawks swallows heavily. Just one good pull could literally tear Dabi apart?  

It’s not the first time Hawks has wondered this, but how could such fierce anger and drive exist in such a frail body? It’s practically inhuman. 

“Let go of me.” The hero says, voice far too worried to be authoritative, as he stares tunnel-focused on the droplets of fresh blood appearing at Dabi’s torn seams. “Let go - !”

“It’s fucking ironic, isn’t it? Takami Keigo!”

Hawks’ heart promptly leaps to his throat, mouth dropping, and eyes going wide in unadulterated shock. He’s unable to resist Dabi tripping his ankle and sending them both tumbling to the floor, a few feathers snapping in two from being crushed by their combined body weight. The harsh knock onto the back of the hero’s head jolts Hawks back into focus. At least, enough for his shock to turn into daunting bewilderment because no one should’ve known that name. Aside from a select few within the Hero Commission, no one - much less Dabi should know it. 

“How do you - ?” Hawks stampers, tongue heavy like lead in his mouth. “W - Who are you -”

“Does it fucking matter at this point? Because it sure as hell doesn’t to me!” Dabi cackles madly, straddling Hawks and smashing the seized wrist onto the ground beside his face. "You’re dying here, hero - I can’t let you go after Twice when I still need him.” 

“Dabi, no -” Hawks struggles but it’s feeble from his still reeling mind. “Wait - !”

“Shall we test it out, hero? Just how much fate - the same fucking fate that cursed me - would protect you?” 

And within the next instant, an explosion of brilliant blue once more engulfs Hawks. The hero cries out of instinct, snatching his hand out of Dabi’s grip to hold his arms protectively over his face. Fear curls intensely in his gut, paralyzing him to the ground and impairing his senses; the thought to move his intact wings doesn’t even come to him, when the fear threatens to tear him apart from the inside. Crackles of fire echo all around him as Dabi’s laughter becomes more and more hysterical and jarring. 

The stink of burning flesh hits him, and Hawks gags. Because after a far too long moment, he realizes it’s not him that’s burning alive. 

Hawks pushes past his fright, lowering his arms and cracking his eyes open. Dabi is right there above him, scarred arms taut and hands fiercely clutching the hero's chest. The villain’s eyes are potent and shaking, but soon - Dabi’s mask crumbles, entire face twisting to display blatant desperation and confusion. He looks lost in a way Hawks has never seen him before, and it matches how he's feeling himself.

Surely, this isn’t how either one wanted to meet their soulmate.

And it somehow hurts Hawks to see Dabi so vulnerable like this.

“W - Why…?” Dabi’s lower lip quiver, beads of blood prickling at the seams below his eyes. His hold on the hero’s compression shirt loosen for a moment before tightening again, and he grits his teeth, fueling his quirk for one last blast. Like the tail ends of a firework, the sparks burst brighter and larger than ever. “Why?!”

This time, Hawks simply lets it happen without fight or fear. He watches Dabi sedately as the flames surrounding him flare in its bitter intent, heating his body to an uncomfortable but not harmful degree. They shortly stutter out, unable to last even a few seconds due to the villain having exhausted himself.

So this was why, Hawks thinks, recalling multiple nights where Dabi would wake up screaming, terrorized by a nightmare; it’s consistently one where he’d beg and plead in a heartbreaking voice for his father to stop - for mercy. While trapped in his mind, his quirk would go wild, consuming his borrowed sleepwear and bedsheets and clipping at Hawks resting beside him. The hero had praised his reflexes in escaping the danger each time, despite instances where physical exhaustion would weigh him down until the flames literally blanketed him, but he should’ve known - should’ve realized just why he didn’t suffer a single burn then. 

There were soulmates. 

Were...? 

They are soulmates. Oh god.

“Dabi…” Hawks says, voice low and articulate, and pushes past his hesitancy and pity and any other dangerous feelings he stupidly harbors for Dabi to focus himself. 

Them being soulmates is a shocking discovery, but the hero’s training has taught him to use everything to his advantage. Dabi’s fire would not hurt him, which drastically lowers the risk of securing this villain and crushing a major obstacle in both chasing after Twice and for prospects of the war. The duplicating villain should be his sole target at the moment; before Dabi - before himself - before any of their feelings. 

“The only person getting hurt here is you, Dabi. Let go of me.”

“Shut up…!” Dabi heaves, shoulders slumping forward as red streaks run down his pale cheeks, fumes of smoke escaping his seams and mouth with each shaky breath. "Shit, you bastard - did you know?"

"Know what?" Hawks asks before he could stop himself, unbeknownst as to why he's still engaging with Dabi.

Perhaps it's because he's accepted that they're soulmates.

Perhaps it's because Hawks realizes this may be the last time they could talk without handcuffs and glass walls in between.

"Did you know that we were soulmates?" Dabi hisses, lacing the label with as much venom as he usually does with ‘hero.’ "S'why you were so gentle with me during sex? So you could lead me on? Make me pity you with your fucking tragic backstory?" Winding back his arm, he throws a weak punch against the hero's chest. "Make me think that we had something?!”  

“No!” Hawks unwittingly grips Dabi’s wrists, flinching when his fingers just sink into the heated flesh like layers of mush. “No - I just...” 

Couldn't bear to hurt you.

Villain or not, soulmate or not, Hawks never had any intentions to hurt Dabi. He couldn't - not towards someone that wears his open wounds like a shield and weapon. Since the first time he laid eyes on Dabi, Hawks knew fate had not been kind to him, so what right did he have to hurt him further?

Building an actual, personable relationship with Dabi certainly hasn’t been part of the Hero Commission’s instructions for his infiltration, but it happened. Against all logic, Dabi has cemented himself in Hawks' mind and heart, and the hero has always been someone possessive and protective over what’s his. Besides, Dabi has given comfort and enjoyment and fulfillment in Hawks’ life - far more than allowed between a double agent and his villain mark, but fuck - he liked spending time with Dabi, damn it. So while their relationship had started as a mere job, it evolved into the hero’s selfish and cherished secret.

.

.

.

“Hey, Dabi…” Hawks whispered, voice careful to not startle the man laying intertwined beside him. With his hand resting over Dabi’s thin and warm chest, he fiddled with his fingers, brushing the pad over recently trimmed black talons over and over again. It’s a nervous tick, and he hoped Dabi doesn’t notice through the darkness of the PLF’s private bedroom for the hero. “Next week...you got any outing plans?” 

Dabi hummed, a small sound to indicate he had heard Hawks. It was late, and they were both drained from their personal responsibilities and burdens. “Maybe visit my back alley doctor - running out of painkillers but other than that…” He paused. “Nothing else.” 

“I see…” The words leaving the hero’s mouth felt heavy, anxiety swirling in his gut like an unruly storm. 

“Why?” 

Hawks lifted his head so he could look right into Dabi’s eyes; they’re half-lidded from sleep but ever so beautiful and thoughtful. Nearly every hero and trainee will be participating in a mass raid next week. They’ll tear apart the PLF and end the League in one swoop. I’ll be the one to give the signal. So couldn’t you...stay away then?  

However, Hawks swallowed his words, weight passing thickly in his throat, and instead said: “...nothing.”

.

.

.

There have been too many instances where Hawks thought to protect Dabi in this way, even though he’s been drilled in this country’s laws that everyone, especially villains, must serve time and consequences for their actions. Dabi should’ve been a means to an end - should’ve been a piece discarded for the greater good of society, but Hawks’ damn feelings had to screw this up. 

Fate is just the nail on the coffin. 

“Then why? K - Keigo - why…” Dabi’s arms tremble, devoid of strength, but forcibly remain upright. Blue flames rage continuously around them. “Why haven’t you captured me yet?” 

For plenty of reasons, Hawks thinks gravely. But he needs more - needs something decisive. Years of conditioning by his handlers and serving his society can’t topple that easily because of just one person. 

“I looked into the backgrounds of each of the League’s members. But only you and Shigaraki - you were the only ones I couldn’t find anything on. So, who -” Hawks pulls Dabi closer and practically begs. This isn’t for investigations; Hawks genuinely wants to know for himself. “Tell me who you are, Dabi. Please - tell me.” 

“I…” Dabi teeters side to side in Hawks’ arms, eyes shaking dazedly in tandem - as if not seeing Hawks but rather some tortured memory. “I am… Todoroki Touya.”

Hawks’ face washes blank with panic like his brain cogs are unable to turn fast enough to take in the information. The only indicator he heard and understood the implications of Dabi being Touya - of the villain being a Todoroki - is the shortness of breath, eyes widening as the hero drowns within the sea of turquoise lined by blood above him. 

“I am - the first failure of Endeavor’s ambitions, burned to death by his own hands.”

Oh God. Those times Dabi woke up from a nightmare, trashing against phantom hands, and screaming for mercy from his father - Todoroki Enji - from Endeavor, Hawks’ childhood savior and role model and coworker - oh my God. 

He knew fate had not been kind to Dabi, but to this extent… Dabi had to have come from somewhere. At this point, does it even matter that Hawks can’t hurt him? Considering who he’s already been hurt by, including by his own inherited flames, and existence forgotten while his abuser rose endlessly through the ranks. 

Breath hitching, Dabi buckles forward, head falling as one of his hands miss catching on Hawks’ body. There’s a harsh scraping of metal against the concrete. “I never trusted you. Even if I thought for a moment - for an unforgivable moment - that you were different, but as expected, there’s no such thing as a real hero in this world…” Then Dabi’s raising his hand, a sharpened rock suddenly poised to stab within a tight grip. “I am the ultimate manifestation of Stain’s will. Not something stupid like your soulmate.”  

Hawks doesn’t even try to defend himself, as the villain whips his arm down with the weapon. But its fatal edge pauses, levitating mid-air out of his control inches from the hero’s face. 

“Fuck!” Dabi cries, throwing the rock across the room. “Damn it, why - why now?!”

Truly, why? Hawks has to wonder, as well. 

Though, the answer seems to blatantly reveal itself with Dabi's withering body and sanity: he had to be stopped. Before he burns anyone further in his destructive path, innocents and hardened criminals alike. Like a crazed wildfire, Dabi would never stop by himself, even in the face of his own imminent death.

And that aches - deeply, like roughened, scarred hands kneading his heart until the dangerous feelings sealed within ooze out in waves. 

Hawks thinks of the once-beloved family Dabi has mentioned he’s abandoned, who believes that he’s died and has constructed memorials for him; a family that Hawks can, unfortunately, place names and faces upon. 

Dabi had laid it all bare for him one night following a harsh skirmish with fellow lieutenant Geten. Cradled safely within Hawks’ arms and wings, while doped up on stronger and more potent antibiotics than he’s used to, Dabi managed to provide insights into each of his family members, addressing them by title rather than names. He told of his foolish attachments, and regret and guilt with a voice full of nostalgia and longing. 

Now, with Dabi’s identity come to light and combined with Hawks’ own knowledge from the Hero Commission's documents and work connections, the full picture of a troubled family pieces together in his mind:

The abusive father that reigned with oppressive flames and poisonous ambitions. ( Todoroki Enji, the top hero desperate to better himself and endeavor for forgiveness.) The mother twisted by her role from the contract marriage and hesitance, inevitably succumbing to the guilt. ( Todoroki Rei, a broken piece hidden from society.) The kind yet naive sister, who could forgive the devil itself. ( Todoroki Fuyumi, the one left behind, self-bound to the household where all the tragedies occurred.) The brother that had to mature too quickly to properly serve as Dabi’s comfort. ( Todoroki Natsuo, a product of all the absorbed negativity - unforgetting and unforgiving.) And finally, the masterpiece that Dabi wished he didn’t hate - wished he could’ve loved normally. ( Todoroki Shouto, the prospect that grew with a heart and strength already far kinder and brilliant than their father.)

They’ll get hurt, won’t they? All of them, just by Dabi’s existence.

Regardless if the villain stops here or continues his grand scheme. Until he succeeds what…? Endeavor’s fall from his throne? His death at the cost of Dabi’s own?  

No.

That can’t happen. Dabi can’t die - not when Hawks has yet to see everything fate is offering. 

Shooting his hand out to snatch the lapels of Dabi’s jacket, Hawks twists it tightly in his grip and yanks. Dabi manages a startled groan before mismatched lips are captured by the hero’s. Turquoise eyes bulge comically wide, the villain’s body heat spiking dangerously, yet Hawks doesn’t let go. Instead, he winds his free arm around Dabi’s nape to hug him in place. 

Rather than the flames and sharpened feathers, this kind of touch seems more appropriate between newfound soulmates. 

When Hawks deepens the kiss, unhesitantly sticking his tongue into the furnace of Dabi’s mouth and exploring familiar territory, Dabi practically melts in his hold. That’s it. They’ve shared enough intimate nights for this to be second nature - for Hawks to know ways to silence Dabi and douse unruly (even murderous) thoughts. 

And it's proven when Hawks pulls away, and Dabi merely stares into golden hues, slightly dazed with a straddling body free of tension and scarred arms splayed out on either side of the hero’s head.

“Dabi.” Hawks starts softly. “Come with me? This war - you don’t have to participate in it.” 

“...what?”

“You’ve been hurt enough. And I’ve -” likely failed the Hero Commission’s high-priority mission to capture Twice “- completed my orders to lead the heroes here. So, let’s escape together?” 

“What?” Dabi repeats, an edge returning to his voice.

“Your father... Endeavor’s nearby, obviously, but with an army of nearly every licensed hero and task force in Japan. Whatever you’re planning for him - it can’t possibly succeed today.” 

Dabi sucks in a sharp breath, apprehension clear on his expression because he’s a logical and calculated person; he knows Hawks has a point. The bulldozing entrance made by the heroes at the start of the raid into the PLF's residence must’ve hinted to the villain the sheer scale of the operation. Regardless of the PLF’s numbers and resources, they’re already at a disadvantage in this war. 

“I can’t let my soulmate - I can’t let you die here.” Hawks swallows, choosing his words carefully. “Nor will I let Endeavor live without paying for his crimes. After all this ends - I swear I’ll open a case against him. Trust me.” 

“That promise means nothing to me, hero.” Dabi spits out venomously, breaking out of Hawks’ embrace with a harsh jerk. But Hawks doesn't let him go far, catching one scarred hand and intertwining their fingers together; he holds on like a lover, firm yet gentle and unafraid of the bursts of blue between their palms. Dabi’s eyes flicker towards their joined hands, confusion swirling in them but grits his teeth in the next instant. “...just what the fuck are you doing? Trust you? Don’t make me laugh. You might not be able to kill me yourself, but who’s to say you won’t hire -”

“I won’t.” 

“Who’s to say you won’t fucking hire someone? Or just toss me off the side of this building?” Dabi continues determinately. “I’ve had enough of heroes and their sweet words and empty promises and selfish agendas.” 

“I -” I’m different, Hawks tries to say, but the words die in his throat. “Dabi, please -”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dabi hisses, yanking his arm back, but only succeeds in tearing tender skin and reopening wounds under his staples. Though Hawks dug his talons into the back of Dabi’s hand to keep his grip, the villain’s skin is notably unbroken there. “Let me go , you bastard! Endeavor has to die here! I have to - I have to - !” 

There’s a sudden spark of mania, raw and unhinged, as Dabi uses his full body weight in another attempt to escape. 

He howls loudly, captured arm straining painfully to its limits like a dried elastic band. “Or else, for what reason did I survive until now? Not for you - no, no. I - I have to -” 

Desperation drives Hawks, surging forward with the aid of his wings. Slotting Dabi’s lips against his once more, he swallows muffled curses and reaches behind his back, popping open a pocket of his utility belt to pull out quirk suppressing cuffs; he had intended to use them on Twice, but honestly? There’s no better time than at this moment. 

The hero manages to slip the cuffs on just the wrist of Dabi’s held hand when the villain’s eyes flash in realization. There’s anger, as always, but also an instance of fear - something Hawks never thought Dabi could display. 

It’s a sour and rotten thing, seeing such an emotion from his soulmate directed at him. 

A harsh bite on his tongue causes Hawks to flinch. When he tries to shift away from the pressure, Dabi sinks his fangs into his lower lip, using the contact to slam Hawks’ head back into the ground and dislodge their lips. “Shit, Dabi - ah!” The punch sent straight to Hawks’ jaw is weak, sloppy, but enough of a surprise for him to lose his hold on Dabi. 

And the villain doesn’t waste a second to clamber away, swinging his cuffed arm wildly as he falls sideways. The unsecured one whips past Hawks’ face, slicing his cheek. 

“Wait - !” Hawks rushes after him, jumping on Dabi’s back and pinning him down. Sharpened wings stab into the ground around them, sealing the cage. “Dabi, I won’t hurt you. I can’t, anyway, so please listen -” 

“Fuck you!” Dabi screams, struggling to buck Hawks off, but it's useless; there’s no way he could win a quirkless battle against the hero. "Get off me, you shitty bird - !" Heaving, his limbs give out suddenly, knocking his jaw into the concrete.

“Dabi, fuck - that sound.” Hawks rises, slipping a hand under his soulmate to tenderly cup his jaw. “Please - stop hurting yourself. I...I’ll help you, but you can’t be caught here.” 

The hero pauses, startled by his own sincerity. But he means it. Now that he’s aware that Endeavor’s a domestic abuser, there’s no possible way the Hero Commission would allow Dabi to live in custody - not when he holds such damaging dirt on their No. 1. 

“Give me some time. I’ll fix this, Da - Touya, I swear -”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Dabi growls, glaring over his shoulder, turquoise gaze as lethal as his quirk. “Touya’s dead. He was killed by Endeavor and buried under your damn pristine hero society, and Touya’s soulmate fucking died with him.” 

Hawks flinches. 

“Takami Keigo died, and Hawks rose from his ashes. The same happened with Dabi, so you - you being my soulmate? Don’t be ridiculous. Your life and death mean nothing to me!”

Fuck, that hurts. Like one’s soul being ripped to pieces kinda hurt.

Hawks’ breath stutters, hold on Dabi loosening just slightly, as tears prick at his eyes. So this is what rejection from a soulmate feels like. 

Is it really too late? 

He’s always had mixed thoughts about his soulmate. One part wished that they’d turn out to be some random civilian that he could keep protected and hidden so they'd never turn into the hero’s weakness (perhaps even from the Hero Commission), while another hoped that they’d be part of his world - a fellow hero that Hawks could partner and stay by their side constantly. 

But of course, fate never makes things easy. By all logic, Hawks should’ve been the one to reject Dabi, but does it matter at this point? His other half made himself very clear: they’re nothing to each other. Besides, Hawks has lived for 23 years without a soulmate; he can - no matter how heavy his heart weighs at the moment - he can live without Dabi. 

.

.

.

Hawks stared, flabbergasted and entranced, at Dabi’s wide smile and hiccupping giggles. 

There were splatters of whipped coffee running down scarred cheeks, but far less than that which made a mess of the hero's blond hair and clothes; neither of them was able to dodge the stirring container that flew upwards from Hawks’ hands straight to his face (and Dabi who stood behind). But he couldn’t find himself to be mad - not when Dabi foisted all the menial work for Toga’s dalgona coffee request to him, or when Dabi had startled him out of his wits just moments ago, resulting in this explosive mess of the PLF’s dorm kitchen. 

Butterflies seemed to escape from the pit of Hawks' stomach, rising through his throat towards the villain, because Dabi's still laughing. His innocent smile crinkled the edges of his eyes and turned them into slits with beautiful turquoise peeking out; pearly white teeth were visible even past the hand unconsciously covering his lower face. 

How could Hawks have known? That Dabi would have the kind of smile that made others witness to it feel happy to be alive; that made the villain appear just a little more human. 

Something stirred inside Hawks, and he wished for more.

.

.

.

Yet, he can live without his soulmate.

.

.

.

“Dabi…?” Hawks tensed at the sight. “Shit, what the hell happened to you?” 

The villain looked pitiful, having sought safety in the hero’s home only to collapse on the tiled floor of the bathroom. His head rested listlessly atop the porcelain edge, his left arm crossed over the multiple stab wounds on his abdomen in a useless effort to staunch the bleeding. He was breathing so shallowly and mutely, chest and shoulder focused to remain still out of beaten years to stay quiet in his pain. 

Dabi had hinted at being a domestic abuse victim, but Hawks never thought he’d see its effects - that he’d hate it this much. 

The hero’s medical training kicked into gear, grabbing the first aid kit with his remaining downy feathers and kneeling beside Dabi; though, it may be more accurate said that Hawks fell beside Dabi, joints locking painfully, bearing his own wounds and exhausted due to his fair share of troubles against a gang of organized criminals. 

“Hey, Dabi - are you awake?” Hawks asked languidly and reached out to tug off Dabi’s jacket, grimacing at the red blotches staining his bare skin and undershirt; they seemed to increase in size with each layer of clothing peeled off. “Fuck, how the hell did you sneak in - in this condition?”  

“Shut - up.” Dabi groaned gruffly, lifting his head just enough so that vibrant turquoise could peek past blood-matted bangs. He narrowed his eyes as he took in Hawks’ appearance, corner of his lips twitching in irritation. “Worry more about yourself - you look like a plucked chicken.” 

Oh. 

Warmth swelled in Hawks’ chest. So it wasn’t irritation, but concern. Dabi was concerned about him. “I’m alright - face still handsome as ever, even if my wings are a little seared.”

‘A little’ was an understatement, but the hero’s used to downplaying his own discomfort and struggles.

Except, he doesn't receive the desired response as Dabi curled his lips, baring blood stained teeth. “I thought I told you not to treat me like your brainless fans and the Hero Commission.”

Hawks blinked, twice for good measure as Dabi’s words sunk in, before breaking into a dopey grin; his next response came out more genuine. “I’m not, hot stuff. I really am fine - no need to worry about me.”

“Like I give a damn about you.” Dabi hissed, but it lacked the usual heat, the villain too spent and comfortable within the hero’s presence. 

Chuckling, Hawks shuffled forward on his knees so he could place a chaste kiss on Dabi’s heated temple, smiling when he felt Dabi lean into the touch; this was something far too gentle and adoring to occur between a hero and his villain contact but has become second nature in privacy. 

“I’ll treat you now, so go ahead and rest.” 

Truly, what a pair the two made.

.

.

.

And yet, he must live without his soulmate.

But I don’t want to, Hawks’ heart cries. “Dabi, listen to me. Please. You’re my -”

Hawks cuts himself off, sensing hazardous vibrations in their surroundings, barrelling directly towards them like a charging alligator towards its prey and crashing against the building. The effects are deafening and overwhelming: partitions rattle and crack above, around, and below the two, but nothing could have prepared them for the sudden glacier piercing straight through the wall, freezing spikes collapsing pivotal pillars and shredding through concrete like a grater.  

It took a mere moment - a mere glance away from his soulmate to assess the impending danger - for things to go south. 

There’s a high-pitched whimper, muted yet striking, that forces Hawks to turn back his attention. Past his arms, held protectively over his bare face, he watches Dabi fall through the cracks of the floor. The chilly gust from the crash twists his limp body, suspending him midair for a moment - a wide-eyed moment of Dabi looking fearfully towards him, scarred hands reaching - before it’s cruelly sending the villain flying right alongside the dense cloud of debris.

Hawks shrieks and drops through the hole before sharpened icicles, shooting out from the glacier in random directions, could impale him, golden eyes sharp and gravely focused on Dabi being tossed like a stringless mannequin through the draft. He beats his mighty wings, bolting towards the villain as a large piece of concrete smashes into his temple. But he doesn’t even react, not losing speed for an instant, uncaring if he’s more free-falling than flying due to the debris shredding and rendering the outer layer of his feathers useless. He has no intention of focusing his mind elsewhere other than catching Dabi - catching his soulmate.  

Because he’s known it, long before Dabi was even confirmed to be his soulmate. In his core, Hawks doesn't want to live without Dabi - not when he’s the best thing that has happened in his life.

Brilliant blue flickers in his sight, the wall of flames still present from Dabi’s prior outburst and standing threateningly in their falling path. They force Hawks to push his limits, heart clenching in relief when he finally catches the shoulder straps of Dabi’s jacket in his gloved hands. He hears Dabi’s choked gasp from the sudden deceleration, then he’s pulling and hoisting his soulmate’s body into the safety of his arms, cradling scarred cheeks against his firm chest as wings wrap around them like a cocoon. There’s a spark of heat around them, Dabi’s pained cry sounding as his unguarded limbs catch the tail ends of the open flames. 

“Shit - Dabi, you’re alright.” Hawks rasps, tightening his hold. “I’ve got you.” 

The hero grits his teeth when they crash through an intact window, but soon finds respite in the form of the cloudless sky over them and open space for Hawks’ quirk to take advantage of. He quickly rises, avoiding remnants of the building, as he carefully juggles the weight in his arms; when he’s unable to find a good grip, not wanting to aggravate any injuries on his soulmate, he hurriedly coos in Dabi’s ear.

“Dabi, hang onto me. I’m going to fly.” 

Except, Dabi doesn’t move, staying limp and uncooperative and staring perilously towards the grassy fields. No. His soulmate would actually risk a near fifteen-foot drop just to escape, so Hawks practically squashes Dabi into his chest, pleading brokenly. 

“Please, no -” don’t die - survive and live with me, Hawks wants to say but knows Dabi has never once listened to the hero; even during Hawks’ most unforgivably sincere exchanges, said for Dabi’s own wellbeing, the villain has never listened to him. He’s on a mission, but unlike Hawks, he doesn’t intend to stop for anyone or survive in the aftermath. As such, he says: “For now, just think about surviving, Dabi - for the sake of your revenge.” 

Scarred arms wrap around his back then; the dangling cuff hitting his tensed ribs doesn’t compare to the ache blooming in his heart. Hawks flies them away from the battlefield, festering wounds visible under the bright sun, yet still alive with thinly stretched hope.