Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s looking for me, Hawks smiles.

Perched on a rooftop overlooking the back alleys of Fukuoka’s night district, he’s as silent and alert as a bird of prey. And nothing could be truer, his magnificent crimson wings fluttering under the shadow of a water reservoir. It conceals him from those on the streets, perfectly hidden in plain sight.

Two heroes have daringly entered his city - his territory - in search of him; underground heroes, no less. They’re not his usual crowd, but despite being based in another city, they’ve traveled this far for Hawks.

How curious. How exciting.

It’s one thing to get wind that the secretive yet illustrious League desires to demolish a particularly nasty yakuza group, and another to witness them in action to find a borderline illegal in to more vast criminal networks for information. The League is not the only team that dances between the gray line of heroics and cooperating with criminals for the greater good, but they’re the most honest about it despite the grumblings of short-sighted critics. That’s something Hawks could respect, considering his own standing and motivations for ruling over Fukuoka. So rather than his dismissive - oftentimes mocking - approach to dealing with heroes, Hawks has taken to just observing these two instead.

Well, to be fair, he’s closely following one hero.

Though he should’ve been watching them with a more widespread focus, he couldn’t stop his eyes from straying back to Dabi - Todoroki Touya - even if forced. It goes against every training the Commission beat into him, against his very moniker of being the apex hunter and observer of the skies, but fuck that. It’s been years since they last met, since Hawks was able to talk and touch him and mark him as mine, his mate, his only love. 

Considering the hero’s never absent from his mind for long, what could Hawks do when he’s right fucking there? Not stare unblinkingly at him, absorbing every detail like a starved man? (Touya’s dressed down from his costume, but Hawks would recognize that tight-fitting tank top and hip brace under the loose jacket anywhere; good, that means he came fully equipped and protected in his support gear.)

Or, catalog how he’s changed? (Is that a new flower tattoo across his collarbone? It’s beautiful. He chose the best design, as always.)

And how he hasn’t? (That’s the same helix piercing he wore in the interview last week. It must be a gift then, since he likes to rotate through his jewelry.)

A predator doesn’t let an obsession borne since young just fade out.

Touya’s got that fancy Blueflame Hero: Dabi title attached to him now, but neither his personality nor sharpness has waned with the added duty. Like an intense torch, he thrives in carving out his own path. While most would’ve succumbed under the pressure of his family’s legacy, Touya has thrown that spotlight back onto limelight heroes and media, who can’t stop inviting him on their shows. Stupid things they are, providing a platform for Touya to rip into their hypocrisy and the unstable black-and-white lens of society. He’s both a force of nature and a whip of fresh air, and Hawks hungers to breathe him all in.

Ah… he wants to hold him, to kiss him, to press his face into Touya’s neck where his scent is strongest, and cocoon them in his wings so they could meld into one being.

Truly, only Touya could hold Hawks’ fancy. And it may have exponentiated over the years apart.

In part, it may be from Touya aging like fine wine. To say he’s gotten prettier would be a damn understatement. He has always taken more to his snow angel of a mother, and the wildness of his numerous piercings and scattered tattoos of amaryllis flowers and snowflakes, covering burn scars, only add more to his charm. (Of course, Hawks knows about the hidden set of wings, suspiciously like his own, claiming Touya’s back. Touya has yet to reveal it to fans, but it was easy to break into the hero’s favorite tattoo parlor to snag that tidbit.)

It’s to Hawks’ annoyance that Touya’s prettiness is also obvious to others.

Such as a group of scantily-clad escorts catcalling the two heroes. The sun hasn’t set yet, so they’re technically off the clock, but it doesn’t stop them and their male bodyguard, a buff mass of nearly eight feet, from approaching Touya with barely hidden lust in their eyes.

Naturally, Hawks doesn’t think to intervene. He still doesn’t know the League’s intentions, so he’s content with just sitting back and watching -

Until, a fat chest gets pushed against Touya.

- and Hawks sees red.

Oh. Oh, fuck no, the villain bristles in anger. How dare that bitch - !

Only he can touch Touya like that.

And what the fuck is Touya doing, not immediately jerking away from her? He doesn’t recall Touya being a boobs guy, especially not ones so obviously fake. Does he not understand that his non-reaction is practically tacit consent?

Or - oh, fuck.

They must be prioritizing the information gathering for Touya to allow this bimbo to drape herself all over him. Meanwhile, his partner, the Duplicate Hero: Twice, is being both useless and encouraging at once. (“Hey, Dabi doesn’t swing that way! Go for it! He needs to get laid anyway!”) Seriously, why the fuck is he the bumbling mess when he’s not their target? His contrary exclamations are causing all the escorts to gravitate towards Touya instead, swarming him like insects to a beautiful, mesmerizing - unobtainable - light.

These fuckers… they truly don’t realize the danger they’re in. It’s just increasing with every sultry grin and painted finger skimming Touya’s body. And now the male bodyguard is ducking his head towards Touya, arm moving as if to wrap around the hero’s waist and pull him close like he was just another of the bastard’s escorts.

Hawks growls, feathers sharpening and talons unconsciously digging grooves into the concrete rooftop.

Damn it, stupid Touya.

Stupid, goddamn pretty Touya. Why did he have to hit the genetics lottery in this?

He should’ve never come into these parts in such a tight-fitting outfit and just flashing his face around for all to drool over.

Moments before Hawks could say fuck it and commit mass murder in front of two heroes, he catches a spark of blue flames. Fucking finally. It’s to his relief and amusement that Touya thrusts his burning hand out, stopping inches from the bodyguard’s ugly mug. Making a sound akin to squealing pigs, he, along with the crowd, instantly scatters back a few steps.

Touya snarls. “Fuck off. Don’t touch me.”

And Hawks watches, entranced at Touya and the brilliant glow of his flame.

A memory surfaces, then… of a young, jaded, bloody Keigo breaking into Touya’s bedroom.

Running on adrenaline and whatever depressants his handlers pumped into him before - before all hell broke loose, his head was a melting-pot of voices; of the animalistic screech he let out, the swish of his feathers, the screams - demands to stop, fuck, stop this instant Hawks, then pleads for mercy, mercy, please no. 

Anyway, Keigo felt nothing cutting out one window of the No. 2 hero’s mansion. Entering, he found Touya dead asleep and bearing fresh marks of a training session (beatdown).

And even though Keigo desired the comfort from his love as if his life depended on it -

(Come with me, Keigo desperately wanted to say then. Run away with me.

Just you and I, against the world.

I’d be happy to live, to die, that way.)

- Keigo didn’t wake Touya.

He couldn’t.

He knew Touya had looked forward to this rare break from the Commission’s program, where he could return home; of course, not for Endeavor’s flaming fists and disappointed scowls, but for his siblings. That must be why though exhausted in his sleep, Touya looked content in a way that Keigo, his long-time roommate, had never seen before within the Commission’s walls.

And Keigo didn’t have the heart to break that.

They were boyfriends, partners, and mates, but never burdens. A fugitive from the Commission was far too heavy a burden for even a strong person like Touya.

So Keigo watched a sleeping Touya for hours on end while keeping distance, hands tucked under his knees as he sat on the ground. It stopped any temptation to touch Touya, to dirty him. He watched until the blood crusted under his talons, and the horizon welcomed the light that would reveal the destruction and pile of bodies he’d caused. Strike teams from the Commission were already hot on his trail, and were he caught, his execution on sight was all but guaranteed; he couldn’t hope for the same outcome as his senior, Lady Nagant.

And yet, he stayed by Touya’s side, memorizing his features, planning his getaway, and promising that one day they’d reunite.

Someday, he swore. They’d both have the power to love each other without worry.

…perhaps now was the time.

He reckons Hawks, S-class villain and unofficial head of Fukuoka, has that power. The stars must’ve aligned for Touya to have come to seek him out first.

A shout breaks him from his thoughts, and he nearly bursts out laughing.

Because Touya and his partner are running from a hoard of people, their location being broadcasted every second from Twice’s uncontrollable shouting and Touya’s loud snaps at him to shut the fuck up. The group is all wearing similar clothing as the bodyguard, likely part of the same gang.

Considering that Touya hasn’t retaliated means that the League weren’t only prioritizing information gathering but also stealth. They must not want anyone to know they’re trying to contact Hawks, which makes sense for multiple reasons. Though it wasn’t his intention, Hawks has made quite a name for himself as a villain. With fame comes rumors and tales of his feats and quite exaggerated ones. Many have daringly made assumptions about Hawks, from him having a skewed moral compass that involves stabbing first to him silently assassinating people in their sleep to only favoring those with pretty faces.

…okay, they’re all kinda true.

He’s never reacted so violently or assassinated someone in cold blood before - well, aside from the Commission’s hired hands - but with his quirk, it’s possible.

Still, of those assumptions, the last one is probably the truest.

Especially if it’s his own or Touya’s.

Said pretty hero is currently cursing up a storm, hurriedly summoning a flame wall once they reach the alley’s entrance. With the crowd stumbling at the obstacle, the two heroes take that chance to increase the distance between them. Touya barely avoids smacking into Twice, who had paused to both exclaim in awe at the flames and goad the gangsters.

“What the fuck, Twice? Move your ass!”

“Oh, right, sorry, Dabi! I ain’t sorry! You’re the one slowing us down, you shitty runner!”

Hawks cackles at the annoyed yet fond expression crossing Touya’s face.

The instant they pass a corner, out of sight, the villain finally moves from his perch. A volley of feathers rain down on the mob, bluntly hitting them over the vulnerable spot of their nape; as they collapse like dominoes, Hawks saunters across the rooftop to continue watching Touya. They’ve made it a block away, but his enhanced eyesight can still trace over Touya’s body, making sure that he doesn’t have a scratch on him - as it should be. His support gear must be working well despite his casual outfit because there’s no evidence in his gait that the flames he just released had harmed him.

Ah… seriously, what is his hero thinking? More like, what’s Touya’s man-child of a leader thinking?

Neither information gathering nor stealth is Touya’s forte, considering his sharp tongue and (unfortunately) very public presence. To think they could hope to catch the elusive hawk with such half-baked tactics… that’s hilarious.

And adorable that Touya’s going along with it.

Hawks smirks, who’s actually chasing who?

Chapter Text

Dabi has been seeing red recently.

Red from little Hime’s morbid blend energy drink, Shiggy’s branded hoodie of his recent FPS game obsession, Twice’s Deadpool knockoff mask, stains on the lizard’s already red bandana, Big Sister’s hair dye, and much more. Except, no one in his immediate circle would possess red feathers. Compress only works with doves like the cliched wannabe magician that he is, and Kurogiri is too much of a neat freak to allow some random bird in his bar. These feathers started appearing around the League’s workplace, slash hangout spot, but now they’re at his apartment complex and his walking routes. Honestly, he’s just waiting for one to appear inside his home.

It should terrify him, finding evidence of a potential stalker.

Instead, he went and pocketed one.

And brought it home.

Bite him, but the feather was pretty.

The feather was just there on a park bench when he strolled past it in the morning, incredibly vibrant, beautiful, and gigantic. It must be a primary feather, or this bird has a wingspan rivaling that of albatrosses. The poor thing, being plucked and used as a means to terrify a hero that couldn’t give a damn.

Dabi’s used to dealing with stalkers, be it crazed fans or media; they’re all the same. As long as he doesn’t show his fear or any visceral reaction to their game, they’ll eventually get bored or confront him. He hopes it’s the latter because it gives him full legal permission to retaliate with a blazing inferno. He thought by now that his reputation and family connections would deter these kinda stupid people, but it seems not everyone has gotten the memo yet.

Whatever, come what may. Another burnt criminal in his future matters little to him.

Dabi presently lounges on the couch in his apartment, head tipped back over the back cushion. On a whim, he runs his thumb over the feather’s stem. It must be his imagination, but it’s like the vanes shiver in response.

So he quickly pulls back his hand, dropping the feather. It flutters and lands on his coffee table, motionless, like a normal feather.

And yet, it reminds him far too much of an annoying asshole with pretty wings.

At one point, he thought this stalker knew of his past and was using it to threaten the hero with his life. Though, Dabi scoffed at the idea as soon as it came. As if he could ever get caught dead getting plucked, he was the star trainee of that accursed Commission for a reason. Even if he went off the map, Dabi could not only be sure of his survival but that he was the one doing the terrorizing.

Dabi chuckles, then sighs.

It’s been years. He should put him - Takami Keigo - aside from his mind.

Every time he heard of a crafty avian vigilante or villain with a penchant of fucking around with heroes and authorities had turned into dead ends. Knowing Keigo, he’s too smart to expose his most distinctive features, if only to protect himself from the Commission tracking him down. Or, also knowing Keigo, he could be screaming about himself on full blast; maybe, even name himself a stupidly obvious nickname. Dabi honestly doesn’t know. He may be barking at the wrong tree by chasing these avian leads, but he could only hope. It’d be some reassurance that Keigo was safe wherever he was since the asshole couldn’t even bother with that when he disappeared.

Dabi sighs again. He’s getting sentimental.

There are bigger problems than a long-lost fling, like his family’s drama and fucking leader.

Like Yumi, who’s blowing up his phone for him to join this weekend’s family dinner. Though he’d already refused, she’s been particularly persistent since Natsu said that if Touya wasn’t coming, neither would he. (Yumi: “Touya, please -” Dabi: “Stop it, Yumi, don’t force your ideals onto people. Besides, I get enough of the damn old man during press conferences.”) Unfortunately, he was raised to be a bit of a pushover before his siblings. So at the slightest snivel over the line, he folded like a stack of fucking cards. (“Don’t cry, damn it. Just… reserve somewhere high-end then. Fuck knows that Natsu and Shou need a break from school, so make the old man pay for it.”)

And like fucking Shiggy, who’s similarly blowing up his damn phone with orders, faintly veiled as suggestions, on possible locations of Hawks’ nest - ha, so Shiggy could make puns too - and for him and Twice to get a move on.

Dabi understands the rush. They need an in on the underground network, and Giran can only do so much. The informant would be putting his safety at risk, especially since Shigaraki has set the team’s sights on the biggest fish of them all. Since their clash with the Shie Hassaikai, Compress and Big Sister are still recuperating in the hospital.

However, there’s a fine line between establishing a new contact and exploiting them due to impatience and thirst for revenge.

What guarantee did they have that this Hawks has information on the yakuza group? Shigaraki seems to think so. Based on whatever he found through his hacking, he’s developed this skewed belief that once contact gets established, all would be well and dandy. As if the natural next step would be the group’s downfall.

Like, what the fuck?

The S-class warning attached to Hawks doesn’t make him pause? Dabi thought the fiasco with All For One and therapy sponsored by All Might himself would make Shigaraki cagey of villains.

Guess that’s not the case for Hawks.

Shigaraki is somehow convinced that this Hawks could not only help them but is also a decent person, which is a fucking stellar compliment from Shigaraki, and doesn’t deserve the villain label.

Seriously, what did Shigaraki find out? Share his findings to the team, fucker; no one is as tech-savvy as him. Dabi’s tired of his leader’s tantrums against his words of caution. Especially when he’s just trying to keep the rest of the team safe, damn it. Dabi’s not at all jealous of Kurogiri, who lives with the man-child, and has the unfortunate role of making sure the League’s leader and right-hand man don’t kill each other during meetings.

Only pissing him off more is the overly unfit role Shigaraki has assigned him in finding Hawks. What a shitty gamer he is, for all that Shigaraki brags about his skills. Dabi is not suited to gather information or to recruit. His face is too widely known, and his attitude does not scream friendship.

(No… his reality, his role, is being Endeavor’s dirty secret.)

(Though, jokes on the old man that his little masterpiece doesn’t give a damn about publicity nor feel gratitude to Endeavor for his strength. For shits and giggles, Shouto has Dabi as his role model.)

(What a cute brat.)

Ah… fuck this. Dabi groans, clenching his eyes shut at the impending headache.

“Hawks… Hawks, huh.”

The last reconnaissance in Fukuoka with Twice had been useless, and he’s not looking forward to getting chased around again. None of the League are trained to do infiltrations. Toga may be their best bet, but she’s still an unofficial and unlicensed member until she becomes of age. (There’s also an uncomfortable pit in his stomach at sending little Hime out to the field alone. No matter how many loose screws there are in her head, she’s still young. She should still be occupying her days with gag-inducing topics from those teen magazines and stalking his baby brother’s classmates, not planning a high-stakes mission to catch a fucking S-class villain.)

So when he receives yet another text from Shigaraki, he snaps back with a: “Hawks should know we’re looking for him by now. How ‘bout we wait for him to ambush us, instead of - ?”

“Why, hot stuff, you read my mind.”

Dabi flinches at the sudden low croon next to his ear.

…what?

He didn’t hear any windows or doors opening, and he’s got quite sharp senses from living on the streets for a while. So how the fuck could someone be able to sneak behind him?

Abandoning his phone, he moves to strike back with his elbow. If they’re leaning over the back of the couch to speak to him, an elbow to the face will be a well-deserved welcome.

He holds back on his quirk out of fear of damaging his home, but instead of the hit he expects, his momentum gets caught by a hard grip around his wrist - a grip originating from his front and totally opposite direction of the voice. A flash of red, and Dabi’s breath hitches at the feel of a feather, one that had been lifeless on the table, holding him still like steel manacles.

No way, the only one that could do this was -

“It’s been a while, and this is how you greet me? That’s mean.”

“Y - You…” Dabi wouldn’t be able to deny his voice shaking. As he turns his head, he gets overwhelmed by the fluffy blonde hair and golden eyes on a strikingly handsome, familiar face. “Keigo…?”

Keigo smiles, a wide and manic thing with sharp teeth bared. He radiates happiness and amusement as if Dabi freaking out is a treat. “I heard you’ve been looking for me, Touya. Your boss wants a partnership with the infamous Hawks, and here I am doing y’all the favor by showing up. Though, if an attempted assault is the League’s way of saying hello, I’d be happy to play along.”

No. Dabi curses. No fucking way.