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Chapter Text

now- hawks

“Hawks! We’re getting close. Are you ready?”

Some agreement between the Commission and Eraserhead made it out so Hawks didn’t get to be on the strike team. Something about his wings being too valuable for evacuation to waste on fighting. He sort of gets the logic, but it seems too simple. What other agenda the Commission could possibly have, though, he doesn’t know, and he’s not in a position to argue. It leaves him perched on an abandoned building half a kilometer away, anxiously flexing his wings while he waits to see if the others will be successful.

They’ve only got one shot at this. If they miss, the organization will go even deeper underground, and there’s no telling when they’ll find them again.

And this is the fourth time they’ve been close, only to fall back.

He grits his teeth and replies, with about half as much lightness in his voice as usual, “Been ready for ages, Eraser. Tell me you’ve got something good this time.”

“They’re trying to retreat and take the subs. We’ve locked down their tunnels and we’re setting up a perimeter to trap them in the courtyard.” Eraserhead grunts and then goes quiet for a long moment. “Don’t jump the gun. You’re only here for evac. But stay ready.”

Yeah, that’s what he’s been doing. Hawks leans forward in his perch until his knees are resting on the unforgiving concrete of the roof. Unbidden, Dabi comes to mind. Hawks has the sudden, sharp mental image of him being there, resting his hand on Hawks’s neck, murmuring Easy, birdie, and Good job. His hands curl into fists. He wants Dabi here so badly.

No. No, he doesn’t, what is he thinking? Hawks shakes his head. Keep it separate. He can’t afford to be distracted right now. 

“Hawks, go,” Eraserhead snaps in his ear, and he’s so used to hearing anything else that he doesn’t move for a split second. “Get over here, now!”

“I’m coming,” he snaps, jumping up and throwing himself off the edge of the skyscraper, snapping his wings out so fast it’s nearly painful. I’m coming, Tokoyami.

“What’s happening?” he demands as he speeds over. “Did you get them outside?”

“They’ve circled up,” Miruko reports. “They’re protecting the weakest and the youngest in the center.”

So now would be an excellent time to be a submissive hero. None of the doms will be able to get close, no matter how friendly they are.

“Got it. Do we have eyes on Tokoyami?”

“In the center. Looks like he keeps trying to get out and help, but they’re determined to keep them in because he’s the youngest.”

Hawks frowns, mentally going over the data. “I thought we were pretty sure the fourteen year old from-“

“Tokoyami’s the youngest,” Miruko insists, with a small waver in her voice.

More firmly, but subdued, Aizawa confirms, “They’ve been testing here, too.”

Hawks swallows. He doesn’t know which is stronger—the grief and anger that they weren’t fast enough, or the relief that at least it wasn’t Tokoyami.

The mansion that was housing the main base of operations comes into view, and sure enough, heroes are subduing the very last of the traffickers, leaving just a ring of about twenty submissives in the middle of the courtyard. Aside from the damage from the battle, it looks well-maintained, a stark contrast to what it hid. Hawks hates all of this. 

He notes Ryukyu on one side of the circle, keeping her distance while clearly trying to get through to them. After two circles to get a full view of the situation—no one looks gravely injured, though all of them are sickly thin and scraped up, held up mostly by adrenaline—Hawks dives down and lands between the group and the mansion. The position puts him on Ryukyu’s right, rather than across from her, which might amplify the trapped feeling, and hopefully will let him prevent anyone from breaking off and running into who knows what sort of hazards inside. 

Folding his wings up as small as he can, he holds up his hands. I come in peace. He can’t see Tokoyami from here, and he doesn’t know any of these submissives personally. That doesn’t give him much of an advantage. Some of the nearest ones glare at him, pushing closer together.

“That’s alright,” he calls out. “You keep yourselves safe. I’m not here to hurt you, though. I want to help. My name’s Hawks, I’m a hero.”

“Ryukyu’s been doing that spiel,” Edgeshot informs him. “I don’t think they care too much about what side you’re on. You gotta be careful, if you’re leaning dom at all it’s better to just split.”

Hawks ignores him. He can’t afford to be dividing his attention.

Slowly, he lowers himself until he’s mostly crouching, inching a little forward as he does. The comms chatter with heroes and emergency personnel hashing out what to do with the villains they’ve captured; someone wonders aloud where Endeavor is. Hawks switches his comm to a private channel with Eraserhead and ignores it all.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeats again. “I want to help. You’ve got some injured ones in there, yeah?”

A lot of suspicious glares, but at least no one lunges at him. 

“I know what that feels like,” Hawks says. He has no idea if he does; he might be talking completely out of his ass. “I know you don’t trust any doms after all that. You don’t feel safe. That’s fine, I do—I wouldn’t, either. I’m not asking you to trust them, or me, even. I’m just asking you to let me help. You can’t stay out here.”

The closest submissive, a middle-aged woman with a tattoo of a bird on her collarbone, whines low in the back of her throat. 

“I know. Here, let me–” He shifts a little and drops most of his feathers, sending them to scatter around the courtyard. They’ll be more useful there, anyway. “I just want you to let me in. Please.”

He holds out his hand. The woman whines again and suddenly grabs his wrist. Hawks braces himself to be fought, but instead she pulls him in, inside the close press of bodies. He stumbles a little as he finds himself in the center, and just in front of him, a familiar black feathered head, red eyes meeting his own. 

“Tokoyami–” he starts, only to be interrupted by the kid all but tackling him in a hug with a bitten-off cry.

Hawks hugs him back tightly, trying to wrap what remains of his wings around them both. He can’t lose hold of him again. Not so soon.

“Be careful in there, Hawks,” Eraserhead warns him. 

“Doing my best, Eraser,” he mutters. “I got the kid.”

“Good. Just listen to me. We can’t have you falling into it, too.” 

Hawks grimaces. “I know.” Now that Eraser’s mentioned it, he can feel it; the pull to give in to his instincts, the creeping anxiety that insists he’s not safe. He doesn’t even want to imagine the consequences if he gives in.

Besides. He’s used to not being safe.

“I’m going to try to get close. Tokoyami knows me, so that should help. Try to communicate that I’m trustworthy, if you can.”

Hawks has zero idea how to do that. This is only his second time being in a sub circle in his life, and the last one wasn’t nearly this defensive. But he can try.

Keeping Tokoyami tucked close against him, he turns until he spots Eraserhead coming toward them, goggles pushed up on his head and hands shoved in his pockets. He’s always been good at coming off as unassuming when he wants to. Even so, Hawks and Tokoyami get pushed back with warning growls as soon as they get near the edge of the circle.

Impulsively, Hawks pushes back. He feels kind of bad about it, but it at least gets the submissive’s attention. The woman from before. She seems a little bit like an authority here. He points toward Eraserhead. “Safe. Help.”

If he’s using the simplest possible words, it’s only so the others can understand him more clearly, right?

The woman looks confused. Hawks points again and chirps this time, a little come here call that no one will understand.

Except Tokoyami, who mimics it, startling him. He’s straightened up, looking right at his teacher in a mix of shock and hope. He lunges forward, nearly out of Hawks’s arms, and Hawks instinctively pushes him back. Only because he doesn’t know what the others would do if their youngest suddenly burst out of their ring of protection.

Slowly, Eraserhead comes closer, and the woman edges out of the group a bit to meet him. Anxiety thrums in Hawks’s chest, half-expecting him to just grab her while she’s mostly defenseless, but instead he only bows, saying something Hawks can’t hear over the buzzing in his ears. He just holds onto Tokoyami. Whatever else happens, he needs to do that.

“-awks. Hawks!”

He jumps, pushing Tokoyami behind him, and then registers Eraserhead in front of him. “Yeah?”

“We’ve got everything under control for now. We were able to track down family or partners for most everyone here, and we’ll have professional dominants for the rest.” Hawks stares at him, trying to figure out why that feels so wrong, and he adds, “To help them calm down safely and mitigate any drops. Which is why it’s time for us to take Tokoyami as well.”

Right. That makes sense. There’s no need for Hawks to hang onto him. There are better, safer places for him to be now.

It still takes him several seconds too long to pass him over.

He expects Eraserhead to take his student and walk off, but instead he passes him off to the nearest medics before coming right back. “Are you alright, Hawks?”

He blinks. Frowns. “What?”

“It’s not a complex question.”

Except that it is. Hawks doesn’t think he’s ever alright, but he’s not allowed to say that. Right now he’s…unsettled. Nervous. And there’s no reason to be, so why–

“They pulled you into the center of a defensive sub circle. The center is for protecting the most vulnerable members. The ones who are the most hurt.”

Hawks shrinks under his words, something soft creeping at the edges of his consciousness just from the suggestion that he was being protected. “I…I went there myself. To get Tokoyami.”

“Okay,” Aizawa says easily. “But just to be safe, do you have anyone you usually go to?”

Hawks stares at him.

“A dom.”

A burst of fear makes him flinch, full-bodied, as if Aizawa could read in his eyes that he does have a dom, almost, sort of, and it’s the worst thing in the world.

“I’m fine,” he blurts. “I’m…I’ll be fine.”

“Hawks–”

“You don’t need me anymore, right?” He needs to leave. He doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong, but he needs to leave before anyone else figures it out first. But more than that, he needs to make sure he’s not being bad.

“I—no, but you need–”

Hawks cuts him off with a short “Bye,” and recalls his dropped feathers. He jumps into the sky before Aizawa can say anything else to stop him. 

now- dabi

Dabi doesn’t understand why Geten has to hang around so much more recently. Objectively, he’s necessary to prepare for the all-out war that’s brewing, but that doesn’t mean he has to stay after the meeting is over. Dabi’s not allowed to kick him out, though, so it’s up to the whims of Shigaraki, and he thinks sometimes Duster just likes to see what will happen. 

What’s currently happening is Dabi sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone while Geten bothers Twice and Spinner. There’s nothing about Hawks in the news—he said he’d be busy all day, as usual, but it must not be public-facing stuff this time.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door suddenly opens to let a disheveled Hawks stumble through. Actually stumble, which has Dabi up in an instant. It’s never a good sign when Hawks can’t even bring himself to put on a show.

Ignoring Geten’s jeering voice, Dabi blocks Hawks from view with his body, wishing they weren’t surrounded so he could touch him. Well, he could—there was game night. But now there’s no excuse of alcohol and Geten definitely doesn’t get to see him be nice to Hawks. 

So all he can do is say “Hey, birdie,” in a low voice and hope he can pull Hawks away to his room without too much trouble. 

“Dabi,” Hawks manages. His voice is shaking. His wings are shaking. He grabs Dabi’s sleeve, bunched up by his elbow. 

Fuck it. Dabi doesn’t have that much self control, and his sub needs him. He steadies Hawks with hands on his forearms, holding him up. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Hawks says.

He looks scared, eyes wide, pupils huge, trembling and clinging—

It hits Dabi all at once, then, and he feels like an idiot. Hawks is dropping.

Something possessive inside him lets out a pleased growl. And he came right here.

He shoves it aside. Hawks doesn’t need to be in front of an audience while he’s dropping. 

“Come on. Let’s go upstairs, ignore these losers,” he says, more for their benefit than Hawks’s. He tugs gently, stepping back, but Hawks’s breath hitches and he doesn’t move. “Hawks?”

He looks so scared. Dabi has no idea if it's all the extra people around, or if something really bad happened. He doesn’t answer Dabi’s question.

“Hawks?” Compress asks, appearing from…wherever the hell he was. Hawks doesn’t seem to notice him at first, but he flinches badly when Compress comes within arms reach.

“Okay, okay, back off,” Dabi says, almost a growl, pulling Hawks closer to him. “We’re going upstairs.” Once they’re in private, he can figure out what’s going on.

He ignores all the watchful eyes on them both and pulls Hawks with him toward the stairs. He has that look like he’s seconds away from losing it completely, so Dabi can’t baby him as much as he’d like—he just wants to know what happened . Who hurt him.

They finally make their way upstairs, and as soon as Dabi closes the door to his room he finds himself pinned against it by an armful of bird hero. Hawks presses his face into his neck, mumbling something that sounds like I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

“Okay, you’re okay,” Dabi says, pulling him in close. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re good.”

Hawks full-body shudders at that, slumping more of his weight into Dabi’s hold. 

“You’re really good,” he repeats, petting over his hair. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong, little bird?”

“Cold,” Hawks forces out. “I tried—but it’s cold, and he said, he said to find a dom.”

The cold is definitely a symptom of the drop, and as for he— Hawks was with someone. Dabi hesitantly rules out the Commission or any other former partners for now, because he doubts they would have told Hawks to fly off and find someone to help him. Another hero? Some random stranger who saw the signs? Dabi hates not knowing where he was, hates knowing anyone was close to a vulnerable Hawks and he wasn’t there to stop it. 

“You found me,” he murmurs. “You found me, birdie, you did such a good job. We’re gonna lay down, okay?”

Hawks’s fingers dig into his back, uncomfortable even with the gloves. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t. I’m not leaving until you say it’s okay.”

“‘s not okay,” Hawks mumbles, a little petulant. Dabi half laughs at him.

“Alright, so I’m not leaving. We’re laying down together, alright? On the bed.”

Hawks allows him to move them over and, with a little coaxing, lets Dabi move away enough to strip him out of most of his hero costume. He notices Hawks tensing up again after he takes off his pants, but he never intended to remove the leotard anyway, so it’s easy to reassure him. Dabi knows a thing or two about being insecure, and skin-to-skintight suit is close enough to what Hawks needs that he won’t push. He gets both of them under the covers as quickly as possible, pulling Hawks close again. 

“You’re okay,” he repeats, for possibly the hundredth time. “You’re okay, you’re good, you’re safe.”

Hawks tenses at the last one. 

“You’re safe. I won’t let anyone get to you.”

Hawks whines and shakes his head, clutching Dabi closer. Okay. That’s a development. 

Dabi tries, “Why don’t you feel safe?”

He only makes a mournful chirping sound and doesn’t answer. Dabi lays there uselessly for a moment before deciding that whatever is wrong, proceeding with aftercare as usual can’t hurt. Hawks didn’t want him to leave, which limits his options, but he focuses on petting every part of him he can reach and murmuring reassurances.

“You did a good job coming here. I’m proud of you. No one is going to hurt us.”

No matter what he does, though, it seems to have the opposite effect, Hawks winding tighter and tighter against him before suddenly snapping and jerking out of his hold, wings flapping madly to get him up and away from the bed.

“Hawks–”

He’s already running, barefoot and without most of his costume. Dabi curses and chases after him. It’s not safe for Hawks to be alone right now, let alone trying to fly or wander the streets. Anything could happen. And if the Commission found out…Dabi shudders to think of the punishment.

One floor below, he can hear people talking as Hawks no doubt runs for the door.

“Hawks!” he shouts, jumping the last few steps and running. 

Hawks is already nearly at the door. No one else is moving to stop him, and why would they? Keeping Hawks in their base isn’t really what they do.

“Hawks!” Dabi yells again, and panic turns it into a command. “ Hawks, stop. ”

He freezes immediately, falling into a neutral standing position. For a beat, it’s as if all the air is sucked out of the room.

Hawks folds fluidly to his knees, and Dabi lurches towards him before Toga gets in his face.

“What did you just do?”

“Toga, move out of the way,” Dabi snaps. Geten is laughing, and Hawks is still kneeling with his back to him, so Dabi can’t read his face.

“No, you don’t just get to use the voice on people because they don’t do what you want–”

“Would you please shut the fuck up?” he hisses. “He’s dropping, he got spooked, this isn’t safe, and I didn’t even mean it, so shut up and let me fix it.”

Toga glowers at him for a second longer before moving aside. Dabi lunges past her and gets on one knee in front of Hawks, his head is bowed, face still hidden.

“If you want to help, you can clear out,” he says tersely. He tries to gentle his tone as much as possible, but Hawks still flinches. 

Thankfully, everyone else does leave, finally having the good fucking sense to kick Geten out. Hawks keeps his head bent, face hidden and body held completely still. Once the others are gone, Dabi touches his chin, trying to urge him to look up.

“Hey, dove. Look at me, please.”

Hawks does. His expression is empty and open, not distressed, just…under. A little lost, still, but a stark change from when he arrived. Dabi smiles and brushes a thumb over his cheek, and Hawks melts into it as beautifully as he ever does.

“There you are,” Dabi murmurs, captivated. “Just needed to get you to stop, huh? Stop thinking. Stop worrying.”

Hawks hums agreeably, eyes fluttering closed as his head lolls into Dabi’s hand. The change is startling, but it makes sense. Subs are wired to thrive under orders, and Hawks came here because he didn’t feel okay being in charge of himself—at least on some instinctive level. If Dabi wants him to believe he’s taken care of, he has to mean it.

He drops into his dominant register again, tilting Hawks’s face up so they’re eye-to-eye. “ Stop thinking, birdie.”

Hawks shivers and slumps further into his hold, and a little thrill of satisfaction runs up Dabi’s spine. There is something deeply appealing about being able to turn Hawks’s brain off with just his voice. What’s even better is knowing that, distressed or not, it wouldn’t happen unless Hawks trusted him. 

“No more thoughts,” he murmurs, running his hands through Hawks’s hair, over his jaw, down the back of his neck, just to watch him push into the touch like a cat. “That’s my job. I’ll take care of you. Understand?”

He gets another agreeable hum.

“Words, baby.”

Hawks frowns a little, clearly unhappy with that, but manages a soft, “Yessir.”

“Good boy. It’s hard, isn’t it, focusing? You should just float and listen to whatever I tell you.”

Hawks’s frown washes out into relief, and it’s like a drug, knowing that he’s feeling that because of Dabi. Every part of him is laser-focused on not messing it up.

“Stand up,” Dabi says, straightening up himself. Hawks blinks at him from the floor, but he doesn’t have that obstinate look of a brat. More like he’s trying to figure out if standing is a thing he can do. 

“Come on, birdie,” Dabi coaxes, offering his hand. He can carry him if need be, but he’d rather avoid it, and while they still don’t have a contract Hawks went out of his way to mention he didn’t want to crawl when they talked limits, so. 

Luckily, Hawks does climb somewhat clumsily to his feet, and Dabi tugs him close by the hand. “Good boy.” 

He doesn’t trust going up the stairs, and he already kicked everyone out of this room, so he simply moves them to the couch instead, mind whirling while he thinks of what to do. Hawks is so sweet right now, staring at him, and Dabi wants to do so many things to him, but he’ll have to settle for this. He pulls Hawks onto the couch with him, and he stumbles a little, clearly expecting to go to the floor, letting out a soft, confused whine.

“None of that,” Dabi says immediately. “I said don’t think. Don’t worry your pretty, empty little head about it, okay? You go where I put you.”

He relaxes, settling better into the couch. This is safety: clear boundaries and someone else calling the shots. Dabi knows.

Remembering the last time he had Hawks under, he cups his cheek again, this time resting his thumb on his lower lip. Hawks opens his mouth automatically, letting Dabi push inside. He could swear he sees his pupils dilate. 

“Such a pretty bird,” he murmurs, pushing the pad of his thumb down, rubbing over the ridges of Hawks’s teeth. He squirms in his seat, whining softly. “You want more?”

A small, shaky nod, and Hawks reaches between his legs. Dabi grabs his wrist before he can get far, not hard enough that Hawks can’t pull away if he wants, but definitely firm enough to make him freeze. His hips jerk forward a little, chasing the touch he thought he was getting. It’s adorable.

“I’m the one who decides if you get more,” he says. “I know that’s hard for my empty-headed little bird to remember, but that’s why I’m here.”

Hawks shudders. Yeah, he definitely likes the whole not thinking angle. Dabi will have to keep that in mind for a better time. He tugs his thumb free, and Hawks whines at him in soft protest.

“Lay down,” he orders, patting his thigh in clear invitation.

Hawks looks from his lap to his face, uncertain.

“What did I say, baby?” Dabi demands. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t want you to do it. I’m not playing games.”

Today he isn’t. But he’d be a liar to say he hasn’t thought about it, leaving Hawks disoriented and crying in his bed for all the right reasons, teasing him until he doesn’t have a hope of thinking straight.

But not now.

Hawks lays down, his head pillowed on Dabi’s thighs, and he happily rewards him with more touch. He can see his eyelids fluttering, fighting to stay open; he wonders if it’s just subspace making him soft and sleepy, or if he’s just generally exhausted and ready to collapse the moment he lets his guard down. Probably both. 

“How do you feel, dove?” Dabi asks, barely more than a whisper. Hawks lets out a noncommittal hum. “Gonna need your words again. I know, I’m the worst.”

Hawks frowns at that like he wants to protest—and if that doesn’t make Dabi’s shriveled, burned heart warm—before answering, “Warm. Tired.”

Dabi almost doesn’t want to ask and risk ruining it, but he has to. “Safe?”

“Mm?”

“You feel safe, birdie?”

“Safe,” Hawks says vaguely, like he doesn’t quite get it. Probably too much to unpack right now. As long as he doesn’t feel un safe, at least not enough to go running to the streets, Dabi will take it.

“Never mind. Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you take a nap?”

Hawks frowns again, deeper, probably trying to figure out if he’s allowed to. Frankly, Dabi doesn’t give a damn what his Commission-determined schedule is, he’s not letting Hawks out of his sight for the next several hours. 

“I told you to stop worryin’, didn’t I?” He smooths a thumb over Hawks’s brow, forcing him to relax. “You sleep. The rest is my job.”

now- hawks

Hawks wakes up groggy and disoriented, but also pleasantly soft and warm. He recognizes Dabi immediately, from the smell, the fact that no one else would let him sleep on them, and the edge of his shirt riding up a little to expose scars and staples. He can hear soft noise behind him—some kind of show, he thinks. The volume is low, the room quiet otherwise. 

He doesn’t really remember getting here. He remembers a little, swirls of color and accompanying emotions, but it’s just hard to think.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dabi drawls from above him. “Feel okay?”

“Feel pretty confused,” Hawks mumbles, pushing himself up and trying to scrub the tiredness from his face. 

“Yeah, well, join the club.” Dabi passes him a water bottle. He’s acting casual, but Hawks knows how to see the concern in his face by now. “You wanna tell me why you showed up here dropping?”

Hawks winces. “Yeah, uh, sorry—I didn’t mean to just, just throw myself at you unexpectedly.” Pretty literally, if he thinks about it, memories trickling back in. “I thought I could handle it, at least long enough to explain and go somewhere private.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dabi says. “I handled it. You’re fine.”

Part of Hawks wants to bristle at that, at the implication that his dom can just handle things in his life for him, but a larger part of his hindbrain is soothed by it. 

“Fine,” he mutters. “So I…I was out. On mission. We…we found Tokoyami. Found a lot of them, actually. Almost half.”

Dabi’s eyes widen. “Yeah?”

“And we got ‘em back,” Hawks says quietly, the full weight of it hitting him as he says the words. It’s far from the end, but to save so many people all at once, to get his student back…it is a big win. 

“That’s good,” Dabi says, and he sounds like he means it. “But I’m…confused, how that leads to you showing up here.”

He winces again. “The subs all circled up. I was the only one who could get in, and they pushed me right to the middle so I was kind of in the thick of it.”

Dabi frowns. “They pushed you in the middle?”

“Yeah? I mean, I was there for Tokoyami anyway, I don’t know.” 

“So you went into a defensive sub circle without dying.”

“Well, I am a sub, dunno if you noticed.”

“No, I mean–” Dabi huffs. “And you didn’t become part of it.”

Hawks shrugs. “I knew I couldn’t. No one else could get them to calm down long enough to get everyone to safety, so I couldn’t lose my head, so I didn’t.”

“You did,” Dabi says slowly, like he’s having some kind of grand revelation. Hawks doesn’t get it.

To be fair, he still doesn’t know how he ended up losing his shit in the League’s base regardless, but adrenaline comedowns can all kind of feel the same at the end of the day, so…

“You weren’t dropping,” Dabi says. “You were feral, Hawks, that’s so fucking dangerous.”

Hawks flinches. “I wasn’t! I wasn’t—even if I was, I felt bad, but I wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“Dangerous for you, you dumb fucking chicken,” Dabi snaps. “You tried to go home by yourself, didn’t you? Who told you to find me?”

“I—just another hero, I dunno, I thought he was being overcautious–”

“You managed to hold on because you had a job to do, and then everyone got separated, right? And you didn’t have a job anymore. And you started feeling like shit. Anxious. Lonely. Not safe.”

Hawks shrinks further, because he does remember that. Remembers not being able to fly straight, the chill that had nothing to do with the altitude or the wind. Remembers feeling hunted, scared, needing something but not knowing what, and eventually deciding to listen and find Dabi.

“Maybe,” he mutters.

Dabi cups his face, forcing him to look at him. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Your instincts–”

Hawks shoves him away. “Don’t tell me about instincts, I’m capable–”

“ No one is capable in a goddamn feral state, Hawks, this is not about you being a fucking submissive. Your instincts are hardwired to seek out your circle if you get broken up, until you believe the threat is gone. And that shit puts a strain on you. People die from being feral too long.”

Hawks snorts, but it’s more nervous than derisive. “I wouldn’t have died. ”

“You might have,” Dabi counters. “Because you’re stupid and stubborn enough to go home, not tell anyone how you feel, not go look for help, and have a heart attack on your fancy living room floor several hours later.”

He’s quiet after that. What is he even supposed to say? 

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be fucking sorry, Hawks, I’m trying to say it’s a good thing you came here and I want you to come here if you’re in trouble. And not just because I know you won’t go anywhere else.”

Hawks feels like they’re fighting. He doesn’t know why they’re fighting. If they are. But he can’t apologize right after Dabi told him not to, can he?

Dabi sighs. “I’m just freaked out because you never show up like that unless something is seriously wrong, and you almost bolted to do who fucking knows what–”

“Tokoyami,” Hawks interrupts, remembering. “I—I was keeping him safe, and I had to hand him over, and I didn’t like it. Not knowing where he was.”

Dabi mutters something that has the word feral in it, but nods along. “That makes sense. Do you still feel like you need to see him?”

“What?”

“I convinced your hindbrain to chill, but that doesn’t mean your instincts completely calmed down. The effects of this stuff can last for a while, and the last thing we need is you dropping again.”

Hawks wants to shrug it off, but Dabi is giving him a serious look, so he actually mulls it over. He does want to find out if the kid is actually okay, if he’s safe, if he came out of this whole ordeal relatively intact. But it’s impossible to tell if that’s residual feral instinct or his general care for his student. 

“I’ll call Eraserhead for an update. They probably wouldn’t let me see him right now. At the hospital.” He tries not to think about the files they discovered, the ones he’s poured over until his vision blurs. The pictures. The tests.

Tokoyami is fine. He’s a tough kid. He’ll be fine. Hawks won’t entertain any other idea before he has to.

“Okay,” Dabi says. “Good.”

Hawks nods and stretches, looking around at the room cast in the dim light of…what is it, evening?

“How…how long did I sleep?”

Dabi shrugs. “A couple hours. Figured you needed it.”

“I— on you?”

“I wasn’t gonna move.” Dabi almost sounds offended at the implication.

Hawks rubs his face. “Shit, I’m sorry. We—we didn’t even do anything, did we? I just felt…really out of it. Tired.”

“Subspace and coming out of the feral state will do that,” Dabi supplies. “And getting five hours of sleep on a good day. And we didn’t have to do anything. I just wanted you to calm down.”

Hawks is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Dabi was apparently perfectly happy to let him sleep on him for multiple hours while getting nothing in return. Okay, so maybe he has some kind of reason to be invested in Hawks not dying—which he still isn’t convinced would happen—if only because it would be troublesome for the League. And potentially because they’re…whatever they are. But there was nothing stopping him from getting up to do something else nearby, or leaving entirely and sticking someone else with bird-sitting duty.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Dabi says, ruffling his hair. Hawks scowls. “I don’t do shit I don’t wanna do, alright?”

Fair enough. 

His phone buzzes—Hawks doesn’t even have to check to confirm it’s the Commission, but he does anyway. 

Dabi must see his expression, because he says, “I probably shouldn’t have let you sleep that long. I knew they were gonna get pissy at you.”

Hawks shrugs. “At least they didn’t call while I was asleep. Maybe they’re in a patient mood.”

He answers the call with a casual Hey, boss, and looks around for his clothes in confusion while staticky shouting blasts in his ear. Dabi jumps up to get the rest of his costume, and even after he’s returned Hawks can barely get a word in edgewise. Yada yada, he’s a sub and it makes everyone’s life harder, he can’t just abandon his post and fuck off to hang with the League, et cetera, et cetera. 

Hawks would care more about the lectures if he wasn’t used to them. He’ll just lie his way out of the worst of the punishment, as usual. If he was half out of his mind and screwing up on the job still, it would be harder, but he’s mostly clearheaded and stable and able to verbally spar with the best of them. It’ll be fine.

He gives Dabi a sloppy salute on his way out and flies back to headquarters.

now- hawks

Hawks rolls his shoulders lazily outside of Aizawa’s office, trying to force himself to loosen up. He’d only gotten another verbal lashing from his handlers after everything—they’d seemed too busy to dedicate time to anything more—and while he would normally ignore it, the words stuck a little harder today. He was pretending not to notice. 

He is on top of the world right now. Look at all the people he just saved. Look at how well he’s balancing his double-agent life. It’s all great. Hawks is great.

Aizawa finally opens the door, giving Hawks an unsubtle once-over. He feels almost chastened. “When I invited you to meet me, I didn’t think you’d jump to do it immediately.”

Well, now he does feel chastened. Ow. “Sorry, Eraser, if you’re busy I can–”

“I’m not busy.” Aizawa turns, walking back to his desk, leaving Hawks to blink in confusion and then follow him in, barely remembering to close the door behind him. “I just expected you to take the rest of the day off.”

Hawks scoffs lightly. “I don’t do days off.”

Aizawa looks down, hiding his expression. “Of course you don’t. Did you find someone to help you after you left?”

“Hm? Oh, with the—” Hawks waves vaguely. “Sure. It really wasn’t a big deal, I’m fine.”

Aizawa levels him with a look. “Alright. So, which would you like first, the general report or the information I have about Tokoyami?”

Hawks tries not to perk up too obviously, but he can feel it happening anyway. That doesn’t make Dabi right about latent instincts or anything. It’s normal for Hawks to want to hear about his former mentee than some strangers.

“We can start with Tokoyami, sure,” he says, faux casual. 

Aizawa pulls up something on his computer, black eyes darting across the screen. “I’ll start by telling you he is stable and expected to make a full recovery, physically. He’s actually hardly injured at all at the moment, mostly being held for observation at this point.”

“Physically,” Hawks echoes. “What about the rest?”

Aizawa remains silent for a moment. Hawks sits down. All at once the triumph of getting him—getting anyone—back seems small in the face of the long road ahead. He saw the evidence of the torture himself. 

“Aizawa?”

“It’s difficult to say,” Aizawa says at last. “He won’t speak yet. Dark Shadow has been out all the time, but it’s impossible to say yet if that’s a side effect of something done to him or a trauma response. We did manage to draw blood, but testing for drugs that didn’t exist a few months ago is no simple task. They’re hoping that once they learn more from the other survivors, they’ll be able to help Tokoyami better.”

Hawks tries not to think about him sitting all alone in a hospital room while strangers try to figure out what’s wrong. He can’t imagine that one locked door and collection of needles feels much different from another. The one positive might be Dark Shadow—didn’t Tokoyami tell him about how his quirk affected his orientation? Maybe his presence is a good sign, for now.

“What about records?” he asks. “They destroyed them too quickly before, but this time–”

“We’re working on that,” Aizawa says. “I have some of them—not Tokoyami’s. There’s a lot to work through and most of it is encrypted or just missing. Either they deleted some of the most important records during the raid or they were already prepared for something like this.”

“What, I don’t get to help with that part?” Hawks tries to make it lighthearted and fails.

“No,” Aizawa says flatly. “And it’s not a reflection on you, Hawks, you’ve done well. It’s just not part of your training. And I doubt your schedule would allow for it, anyway.”

He has a point. Hawks wants to protest that he can handle reading about this shit, but he’s not going to argue with Aizawa like a petulant student, especially when he’s right; Hawks doesn’t have the spare hours to pore over files and tease out the most important parts.

“So when can I see him?” he asks after a moment of quiet. 

Aizawa sighs and leans back in his chair. “Likely not for a while. There’s still an isolation period while they rule out any immediate issues, and then he’ll probably be out of the hospital, back with his family…unless they determine that other care is needed.”

He says it so carefully, looking away, that it takes Hawks a moment to catch his meaning.

“But they’re not…he’s a tough kid.”

“He is,” Aizawa agrees, and this time he does look at him. “That doesn’t make him invincible.”

Feeling uncomfortably pinned under his black gaze, Hawks pushes his chair back a bit. “So…what? What do I do?”

It comes out a little more plaintive than he wanted. 

“Keep doing what you always do,” Aizawa says. “We’re still following leads, but every bit of progress we make makes the rest harder. I’ll let you know when you’re needed.”

So what was the point of this, then? Hawks thinks bitterly. Tokoyami is okay, except that he isn’t, and he can’t do anything to help. 

He stands up, recognizing the dismissal. Aizawa says nothing else, so he turns to go.

“You know, Hawks, we don’t only have to talk when it’s about work.”

Hawks pauses with his hand on the door. Glances over his shoulder. “I think you’ve mentioned. But I’m still not one of your students. I can handle myself.”

“Balancing your schedule with your League of Villains work doesn’t leave much room for downtime. Or relationship building.”

Hawks’s wings twitch. Aizawa’s getting at something. He pushes it down to examine later and only says, “I think I’d be more worried if I did have downtime, at times like this.”

He doesn’t wait for a response.

now- dabi

For three days, Dabi doesn’t get to see Hawks. It’s far from the longest they’ve gone without meeting up, and he has more than enough to occupy him, so it shouldn’t really matter.

It does matter. A little bit.

They text, and several times Dabi considers asking if he did something wrong, if he fucked up, if Hawks needs anything—but he forces himself not to. Hawks’s excuse is always that he’s busy, which is what he always says, and it’s usually true.

Dabi only realizes that this is what missing someone actually feels like on the third day, and that just makes him feel more like crap. He’s not supposed to miss Hawks—or is he? 

Finally, on the fourth day, he relents and texts him to meet up, phrasing it like a mission for plausible deniability. 

Within the hour, Hawks texts back: Are you in your room?

Dabi is, in fact, in his room, though he doesn’t know why Hawks is asking it that way. yeah? you here?

A few seconds later, a heavy thump at his window makes him look up, finding Hawks perched on the ledge and waving at him. He stares for a second before going to open the window, and Hawks ducks in, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before he can even think to get a word in. “Yeah, I’m here.” 

He slides the rest of the way inside, shaking out his wings while Dabi tries to remember what he was going to say. Hawks sits on his bed.

“So, what’s this mission ya got for me, hot stuff?”

“I lied,” Dabi says. Very smooth.

“Aww,” Hawks smiles, but it’s not the plastic one he gives the cameras. It’s real and mischievous. “You miss me that much?”

“Maybe.” 

He steps between his knees, watching the way Hawks tilts his head back to look up at him, eyes half lidded. Part of him wants to touch his chin, to push his thumb inside his mouth, or maybe run a hand through his hair and grip the back of his neck. More. There’s so much he wants to do.

And that’s the point.

“We need to talk.”

Hawks recoils slightly, expression shuttering closed, and Dabi wants to kick himself. “Hey, birdie, don’t go away on me now. It’s not that bad.”

He looks suspicious. “You can’t start a conversation with the universal signifier for we’re going to break up and then try to say it’s not that bad.”

For some reason Dabi is relieved at that, at the implication that he and Hawks have something to break. “I’m not gonna break up with you, dove.”

It has the desired effect; Hawks’s expression loses some of the guardedness and the smile comes back, albeit smaller. “Alright, so what do you want with me?”

“I want to set some clearer limits–” 

“You want a contract.” Hawks’s gaze turns stormy, and he stood up, forcing Dabi to back away and let him move to the other side of the small room. “I told you, I don’t do contracts.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything serious–”

“We don’t need a contract, I couldn’t take you to court if I wanted to.”

Dabi flinches back, stung. He knew Hawks had bad experiences with his other doms, but was he seriously already thinking about Dabi violating their terms and hurting him? “That’s not the only reason people have them. And, hey, I can’t take you to court either, so nothing’s binding. There’s no two weeks, eight weeks bullshit. You could still leave whenever you wanted. I’m not trying to trap you.”

Hawks eyes him sideways, like he might be considering it. Then he shuts down, staring at the wall instead. “I’m not doing a contract.”

Dabi sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Fine. No contracts. But can we at least write some of this shit down so I don’t have to worry about forgetting it?”

Hawks eyes him some more. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Just a list. And our names, I guess, to label which is which. No fancy language, no signature. That’s not a contract, is it?”

Hawks gives him a look that says he’s not impressed, but he does drift closer. “On paper.”

“Sure, old school, I like it.” 

Dabi walks over to what passes for his desk, digging around until he finds a notebook and some pens he probably tossed in here a year ago. He scribbles on a random page as he walks back to the bed, tossing the first two pens when they don’t write well before settling for the third. He pats the mattress beside him, and Hawks warily walks over, like he’s afraid the paper will bite him. Dabi writes his own name at the top of the page, then writes YES, SOFT LIMIT, HARD LIMIT down the margins, making three sections. He shows it to Hawks.

“That acceptable?”

“I guess,” Hawks mutters, glancing at it and then away.

“Birdie. C’mon. I need a real answer.”

“I don’t want a contract, Dabi.”

“This is literally as far from a contract as I can possibly make it,” Dabi says, a little too harshly; Hawks leans away from him and he softens. “I can’t hold everything in my head, okay? And I don’t expect you to, either. It’s the same as talking about it.”

Hawks eyes him. “And if I want to change something?”

Dabi mimes scribbling something out. “Then we change it.”

For a long moment Hawks is quiet, golden eyes roving over the paper. Dabi doesn’t think he’s looking at anything in particular. He gives him time to process, because he knows this; this black and white thinking, and being presented with a middle ground, and not knowing what to do. He’s picked “continue to be stubborn and die on your hill” a fair few times himself, but all he can do is hope that’s not what Hawks is about to go for.

“Fine,” Hawks says finally.

“That’s still not a real answer,” Dabi says, keeping his tone as gentle as he can.

“Yes, okay, green, whatever you–” Hawks waves a hand sharply at the paper. “You have my enthusiastic goddamn consent, okay?”

It’s still not exactly what Dabi wants—he doesn’t like how tense Hawks is, doesn’t want to add to his list of bad experiences—but they do need this, and he doesn’t want to torture Hawks further by drawing it out. 

“Okay,” he agrees. “So. We start with the good stuff, or at least I’m gonna. I don’t care how you do it.”

Hawks says nothing. Dabi thinks for a second, drumming his pen on the page. Even though they’ve talked about some of this, and he’s sure Hawks can guess at a lot, he’s never been good at this part. At revealing weaknesses, maybe. He tries to comfort himself with the fact that he’s handed Hawks a lot of his weaknesses already, and starts to write.

“I’m a service dom,” he admits, like there’s any world in which Hawks doesn’t already know that. “I like whatever makes you happy, pretty much.”

“That’s such a copout.”

“Hey.” Dabi hits him in the arm with the pen. “I’m not done. Don’t be a brat.”

There’s a brief moment where something complicated flashes across his face, like he’s really considering it, and then Hawks grunts for him to continue.

“Okay. Speaking of, I like brat taming. Punishments. Pain. But I don’t think I could keep it up all the time, it’s a lot of work.” The last part is mostly for Hawks’s benefit, because Dabi can feel him tensing. “All the normal shit we talked about before, too. Bondage—rope, usually, but I’ve tried a lot of things. Kneeling, hand feeding.” 

Hawks tenses again, but doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t care much who tops or bottoms, or about toys, or–”

Now Hawks is staring at him like he has two heads. He manages not to get defensive, barely. “What, birdie, you think I can’t dom you just as well with your dick up my ass?”

Hawks blinks several times and seems to hunch in on himself a little. Maybe feeling chastised? Maybe he should. Dabi’s not that much of a traditionalist. And now that he’s thinking about it, Hawks fucking him…him riding Hawks…

Dabi swallows. “Overstim’s a big one.”

He really wants to make Hawks cry one day. Wants to break past all his walls and make sure he can’t even think about holding anything back. Wants to see him squirming and shaking and begging. And then he wants to give him everything.

“Dabi,” Hawks says. When he looks up, the stupid bird is smirking at him. “A big one, huh?”

“Shut up.” Dabi checks what he’s written down and taps the page again. “I don’t know, I like a lot of shit. And there’s a lot that’s not my favorite, but I’d enjoy it if my sub was having fun.” There’s not enough space on the page to write out every little detail, and he has a feeling the more words get put to paper, the more jumpy Hawks is going to be about it. 

“You’re forgetting something,” Hawks says quietly. 

“What?”

“I know you like…” he bites his lip. “You like my wings.”

Dabi can feel his face heat. He does. “I—yeah. Is that, like—I know how people can get, with heteromorphs–”

“It’s okay,” Hawks says, looking out at the middle distance like he’s really thinking it over. “I mean. People have said shit, especially fans, but I’ve never really had a dom that cared. And most of them hated all the other bird stuff.”

“I don’t,” Dabi says, soft but insistent. “I love your noises and your talons and your weird little bird teeth.”

Now it’s Hawks’s turn to go red. “See, that—it’s weird. But like. Nice?”

He looks cute, cheeks dusted pink and his head ducked a little awkwardly. Dabi is thinking about kissing him when he gestures back to the notebook.

“Are you gonna add it or what?”

Dabi hits him with the pen again, but he scribbles it down. Then he taps the next section. “This is gonna be shit I only like under specific conditions, or only some of the time, but I’m still open to it.” He stares right at Hawks, trying to make sure he gets it. He wouldn’t put it past him to fudge the definitions to make Dabi happy.

“Thought you said you liked anything I like,” Hawks mutters, apparently still put out by that. 

Dabi ignores him. “I don’t like using my quirk. It’s too hot and too easy to permanently hurt you if I slip up. I’m willing to do it a little bit for a calm scene, though.” He leaves out the fact that sometimes he reminds himself of his father, doing that; it’s not something either of them wants to think about right now. “Also not a big fan of humiliating my subs, but we can talk about that if you want it. I don’t love knifeplay or anything like that for the same reasons as my quirk. And I’m not interested in a master/slave dynamic, but if you really want to try it out we can do that.” 

Hawks hasn’t said anything to interrupt him. Dabi glances at him, trying to read his expression. It’s not exactly overwhelmed or scared, but it’s not a positive look, either.

“Don’t freak out on me now, birdie. What are you thinking?”

“That you know a lot more than me,” Hawks mutters. 

Dabi grins. “I had a good teacher.”

Hawks’s face doesn’t change. “How many subs have you had?”

Oh. Oh. Someone’s jealous. Dabi weighs his answer. “I’ve had two contracts. Short-term, when I was a kid. More like favors to Nami than an actual relationship. And some pretty regular one-offs so I don’t–”

“Nami?” Hawks asks quietly. Dabi stiffens. “She was your teacher, huh?”

“I told you she’s not for you,” Dabi says, but with none of the bite as the first time they talked about it. He sighs. “Yeah. You could call her that. She taught me most of the shit I know. But the point is, I’ve been with a lot of subs. Okay? Not gonna lie about that. But none of them meant much to me.”

“And what about me?” Hawks asks quietly.

Dabi shakes his head. “Birdie, you don’t wanna ask me that. I’ll scare you off.”

Hawks looks at him for a moment, then away, like he expected more. Probably because that wasn’t a fair answer.

He taps Hawks’s chin. “Look at me. You’re important to me, okay? You probably shouldn’t be, and this might blow up in my face someday, but you are. That’s why I’m doing this.” He taps their not-a-contract.

Hawks’s eyes narrow. “Alright. So finish it. Anything you’re missing here?” He touches the middle of the page, the first time he’s actually interacted with it. Dabi doesn’t know if he should read into that.

“Uh. I don’t think—actually.” Dabi hesitates, pen hovering over the paper. “I don’t like to skimp on the aftercare. Some subs like to take care of themselves, or it’s part of the fantasy, to get left alone at the end, but I don’t like it. I could do it every once in a while, but that’s it.”

“We’re including aftercare in this?” Hawks asks. 

“...I guess?”

“You need to add what you like, then,” he says, and takes the pen before Dabi can do anything, leaning over to write cuddles and praise on a sideways tilt.

“Pleased with yourself, are you,” Dabi mutters. “I like anything that helps you. But yeah, sue me, I like the most basic aftercare shit of all time.”

“Lucky for you, so do I,” Hawks says, but his voice drops off near the end, like he only realized he was giving something away as he was saying it. Dabi decides to let it go without comment and goes to the bottom section. Hard limits.

“I don’t do scars. I don’t do anything permanent, tattoos, piercings, but especially scars,” he says, underlining it because it’s important. “You can be a brat if you want, but watch it with…” he hesitates, trying to think of the least vulnerable way to say it. “Implying I’m not good enough, or shit like that.”

He’s afraid Hawks doesn’t even have enough experience to get what he’s trying to say, but he nods thoughtfully. “I can do that. Can’t imagine telling you you’re a bad dom, anyway.” he nudges Dabi’s shoulder. “What else?”

“No scat, vomit, weird food play—nothing that fucks these up.” Dabi gestures at his staples. “Worrying about infection kinda kills the mood. I think that’s about it. Oh, wait—no feminizing shit, for you or me. Don’t call me Mommy and I’m not gonna call you my baby girl.”

“Aww.” Hawks faux pouts at him. “Well there go my plans for the evening.” Then he grins. “Wait, you didn’t say anything about Daddy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi laughs, but Hawks is right; he didn’t. 

And he doesn’t. He told Hawks a long time ago that he doesn’t need titles. 

He considers the page for a moment before adding in small print, under his name, their safe words: yellow and red. Then he adds no, stop, wa–

“Hang on,” Hawks says.

That should go on there too, but Dabi stops writing to look over. “Hm?”

“You…what are you doing?”

He puts the pen down entirely and shifts to face him. “Don’t…take this the wrong way. But I don’t really trust you to safeword when you need to yet. Not while we’re still working things out.”

“I can safeword,” Hawks protests.

“You didn’t tell me to stop when I was going to take off your pants, either time I’ve done it, and I could tell you were uncomfortable in a bad way. You didn’t want me to touch there, either, but you didn’t say anything.”

“That’s one thing–”

“It just takes one thing, Hawks,” Dabi says, low and serious, “and I could seriously fuck you up. Fuck both of us up. I’m not doing that. As we keep going and you get more confident and I get better at reading your body language, we can phase those out of safeword territory, okay?”

Hawks still looks uncertain, or maybe disappointed. “Okay.”

“Did you ask because you want consent play?” Dabi asks. “That’s not off the table.” He writes it on the line between his yes’s and soft limits. He definitely has no issues with it, but it’s not something he trusts himself or Hawks to do yet.

“I…I don’t know.” But the way he won’t meet his gaze is saying he does want it.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing. It’s really common. I just didn’t…expect it, I guess.”

Hawks frowns. “Why not?”

Dabi chews on the inside of his cheek and carefully does not say what he’s thinking. “I dunno. Vibes. Shouldn’t be judgin’ books, though, I guess.”

He can tell Hawks doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t call him out. Dabi flips the page and writes Hawks’s name at the top and the same three categories, plus the safewords. He offers him the notebook. 

“You wanna write, or should I?”

Hawks looks at it for a moment like it might attack him, but he takes it. “I can start with anything?”

“Anything you want.”

“I can repeat stuff you said?”

“...Yeah? The point is knowing if we’re on the same page. And my stuff might change later when yours doesn’t, or something.”

“Okay.” Hawks glares at the page for a moment, tapping the pen. “I have done a lot, you know.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m—that I’m not experienced, or something, just…” He blows out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know if I’ll feel different about some things when it’s with you.”

“Okay.”

“Oka–” Hawks glares at him. “Don’t just say okay. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know…”

He cuts himself off, and Dabi sits up straighter. “What about your contracts?”

Hawks snorts. “I didn’t get to see those. And I’m pretty sure they just said anything goes, anyway. As long as it wouldn’t interfere with my job.”

Anger coils in Dabi’s stomach, white-hot and destructive. He clenches his fist in his lap and hopes he doesn’t start steaming. “Did you like any of it?”

“Well, yeah,” Hawks says, almost offended. “Most of the stuff that didn’t hurt.” He blanches then, visibly paling, and before Dabi can ask what’s wrong he amends, “I don’t—I don’t mind when it hurts, I mean, that’s the point of a punishment, so it’s not my favorite, but I can take it.”

“Hawks–”

“I can take it,” he insists.

Dabi sighs. “Alright. Take what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Be more specific. I already said I won’t do knives or fire.” Dabi gestures at the paper. “Actually, gimme that. I’m gonna put whipping under soft limits because I haven’t practiced in a long fucking time and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That…but that’s the point.”

“Beating up your kidneys because my aim is shit is not the point ,” Dabi tells him. He hands the notebook back. “What kinds of pain do you want? Be specific.”

Hawks chews on his lower lip. It takes him a long time, so long that Dabi almost calls the entire thing off, but he puts down spanking at the top and adds knives to the bottom with a shaky hand. He doesn’t look up, coiled taut as a wire. 

“Good job,” Dabi says softly. He wants to push for more specifics, but he doesn’t want to push Hawks, so he settles for what he’s been given and makes a mental note to ask more about it later. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Hawks mutters.

Dabi hums noncommittally. “You can add praise. If you want. And maybe degradation? You liked when I called you dumb.”

Hawks flushes. “I…not that much.”

“You definitely did.” It’s a dirty move, but Dabi lowers his voice to a hoarse murmur. “You liked being my pretty, empty-headed little bird and letting me do all the thinking, yeah?”

Hawks inhales sharply, shifting in place. “Dabi–”

“Write it down.” He softens a little. “I’ll ask before I try anything new, okay?”

Hawks does, but his shoulders are tense again. “Okay. I just don’t…I don’t…”

Dabi waits, barely breathing.

“Never mind,” Hawks mutters. “Just…no. I don’t know what to even call most of this stuff.”

“That’s fine,” Dabi says. “You said you liked things that didn’t hurt. Like what?”

Hawks shifts. “I…you’ve seen hunting birds wear hoods, right? Keeps them…docile. It’s the same for me.”

That makes sense. With all the input Hawks gets from his feathers, taking away his senses probably would be pretty appealing. Dabi remembers Hawks telling him that was a limit when they first met (he replayed that night in his head so many times it’s burned into his skull), but if it really works like he says, then it makes sense he wouldn’t trust a villain with that.

“Sure, we can do that. Does it have to be a hood, or does a regular blindfold work?”

“Either,” Hawks says, barely audible as he writes.

“Cool.” He tries to stay casual and light, to not add any extra pressure to the obvious war Hawks is having in his own head. Hawks doesn’t offer anything else, so he ventures, “How do you feel about pet play?”

Hawks blinks at him, gaze unfocusing as he thinks. “I…I’ve done it once. Do you…?”

“I like it, yeah. I dunno. I think you’d make a good puppy. Only if you think you’d like it.”

Hawks processes that for a moment and says, hesitantly. “I…I think so. What would you…do?”

Dabi shrugs. “Whatever you wanted. Could just be as simple as calling you puppy, or we could go all out with it. Leashes, muzzles, a crate, little ears, a tail…I could teach you tricks.” Imagining Hawks with ears and a tail, all shy like he gets…it is cute. 

Hawks shifts in place, looking away so Dabi can’t see his face. “We can…try some of that,” he says, soft and breathy. Dabi wants to know which part made him sound like that, but all he writes down is pet play in a tight, embarrassed scribble. 

“What about…sex?” he asks instead. “You didn’t want me to touch you before. Is that…how it always is, or…”

“No,” Hawks says, a little too fast. “I mean…I-I want. Just. I’m not…ready yet. If that’s okay.”

“That’s okay. So no touching over or under the clothes, and you don’t want to be fully naked,” Dabi confirms. Hawks nods ever so slightly. “Are you okay with touching yourself while I watch? Under or over your clothes?”

“I…I don’t want you to watch,” Hawks says. “But if you weren’t looking, maybe.”

Okay. That…Dabi can work with that. He definitely can work with that. It’ll be a special kind of torture, listening to Hawks get himself off without even being able to see, but…worth it.

He tucks that away to think over very thoroughly later. “What about things you don’t like?”

Hawks hand shakes slightly before he presses it against the notebook to steady it. His voice is very small when he says, “Don’t leave me alone. Please. And don’t…don’t take it away when I’m bad, please, you can hurt me if you want but don’t–”

“Hey, hey, easy,” Dabi says, grabbing his free hand and squeezing gently. “I’ll never leave you during a scene. Or after. I said I need aftercare, remember?” He waits for Hawks to nod hesitantly. “What don’t you want me to take away?”

“Subbing,” Hawks says. “I need—I don’t want to be sick anymore, you can just hurt me–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Dabi murmurs. Inside, he’s on fire thinking about the Commission, about how often they must have denied Hawks even their shitty doms for him to think it’s necessary to ask for. “I’m not gonna do that. I might not always want to scene when you do, for a lot of reasons, but I wouldn’t take it away from you like that. I don’t even believe in long-term punishments, really.”

“Okay,” Hawks says quietly. He writes both things down anyway, which gives Dabi all kinds of weird emotions. “I think…can I put whipping as a soft limit, too?”

He says it so worriedly, asking permission , and Dabi thinks about the whip scars on his back and sees smoke wisp out of the seams on his wrist. “Yeah, birdie. You can put it anywhere you want.”

Hawks sticks with it as a soft limit. He seems to run out of ideas again, then.

“You don’t like being ignored,” Dabi points out. “As part of a scene, I mean.”

Hawks goes red. “I…you remember that?”

Does Dabi remember getting a call to pick up a dropping, near-catatonic Hawks outside a clinic? Does he remember Hawks begging him not to leave, staring at him like the world would end if Dabi looked away? No, totally slipped his mind.

“‘Course I remember that. You were really torn up about it, I was worried.”

“Oh.” Hawks turns that over for a moment. “I…I’m pretty sure it was just that dom, that time. He didn’t ever listen to my safewords, or check in, or…anything. I think if it was with you it would be…better.”

Dabi looks at him skeptically. “Are you sure?”

Hawks nods. 

“This isn’t just about whether you can handle something without freaking out. It’s about what you like. Do you think you would like being ignored?”

To his credit, Hawks takes a few seconds, like he’s thinking about it. Then, with a hint of stubbornness, he repeats, “Yeah.”

Alright. Well. Far be it from Dabi to contradict a sub on their own kinks, even one with Hawks’s history. Maybe especially one with Hawks’s history.

“For aftercare,” Hawks starts quietly, surprising Dabi by taking the lead again. “I…I liked everything you’ve done. I never really…with my other doms. So I don’t think there’s anything I don’t like.”

“That’s okay,” Dabi says. “Like I said, we can always change it later if you find something you don’t like. Is that everything you can think of?”

Hawks nods and relaxes, looking so relieved that even if Dabi did have other ideas, he wouldn’t have the heart to make him keep going. He gets it. Even filling out a contract without much experience is embarrassing and vulnerable and hard. He’s sure Hawks is tired after fighting through his own anxiety over it.

“I’ll keep this in my room,” he says, reaching for the notebook. Hawks’s grip on it tightens. Dabi raises an eyebrow. “...Unless you’d rather keep it with you.”

Hawks nods tightly. That…actually makes sense too. If Hawks has the notebook, it’s his to control. 

“Alright, cool. But at least put it away for now, okay?” Dabi reaches up to rub his shoulder. “How long do you have before you have to run off on me?”

Hawks tosses the notebook aside and relaxes further—at least until he checks his phone and groans.

“What?”

“I have like, twenty minutes.” He squints at the screen. “Maybe twenty-five if I fly fast.” He pockets the phone and slumps over onto Dabi. “Can you do anything with twenty minutes?”

Dabi smiles and tilts his chin up for a kiss. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

now- hawks

It takes five minutes after Hawks leaves their not-a-contract contract negotiations for Dabi to text him with only a vague got an idea for a scene, whenre you free?

He was probably planning while they were making out and making Hawks late for his photoshoot. Hawks doesn’t know how he feels about that, but he finds a hole in his schedule for two days later. It means he’ll be giving up a few hours of sleep, but he’s pretty sure anything Dabi has planned will be worth it. 

Two days later, he’s somewhat ready to take back his first assumption. They haven’t even done anything beyond said hello and he’s nervous. Dabi asked if they could meet at his apartment for extra privacy; Hawks is just grateful to be in his own space. 

“You ready to start, or do you want to hang out a little first?” Dabi asks, like they’re not in his bedroom, like Hawks would be able to stop thinking about what they’re about to do for more than a second.

“Let’s just start,” he says. 

Dabi tilts his head. Drifts closer. hawks feels distinctly like prey, taking an unconscious step back before Dabi’s hand lands on his waist and holds him still.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Hawks’s mouth. “I gotcha, okay? You’re safe here. You know your words.”

Hawks nods shakily. He does. He does know his words. Dabi kisses him again, a little deeper this time, dragging a hand through Hawks’s hair. He melts into it, finally, and Dabi makes a soft, pleased sound that warms him to his toes.

He draws back slowly, keeping their heads bent so close together Hawks can feel his breath on his lips. “Kneel for me.”

Hawks folds to his knees. Dabi steps back to admire him, smiling softly. “Pretty boy. I thought we’d try something simple to start with.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a strip of black silk. 

Hawks’s heartbeat tumbles to a halt.

Dabi takes whatever expression is on his face for nervous excitement. “Yeah? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. Color?”

His heart tumbles back into a too-fast rhythm. Why did he tell Dabi about blindfolds? Why did he decide this was something he could do? Doms like him docile, he knows that, and it’s easier when all his fear is dampened and he couldn’t fight back if he tried, but he’s feeling the fear in full force now and he doesn’t know why he was so stupid.

Because Dabi likes it, a voice that sounds like his handler tells him. You told him before you didn’t like it, and still, the moment he gets a chance it’s the first thing he wants to try.

Hawks swallows. “Green.”

“Good boy,” Dabi purrs, and he sounds so excited. Hawks can take it. Hawks can handle it, if it makes Dabi happy. He’ll be nicer than all the other doms, too, probably, so that will make it worth it. 

Hawks tilts his chin up and closes his eyes. Something about it feels better that way. If he does it to himself first, then it’s not so bad. Sure.

Dabi’s hand brushes his cheek first, making him jump. He pauses, cups his face.

“It’s just me, birdie. I gotcha. You’re so good.”

Hawks flexes his hands in his lap—he really wishes Dabi would have tied them up, so he wouldn’t be tempted to rip the blindfold right off—but otherwise holds perfectly still as Dabi fits the black silk over his eyes, ties it at the back of his head. It feels nice, not scratchy and rough like his hood at the Commission, and for a moment with his eyes closed Hawks can pretend it’s nothing.

His instincts aren’t so easily swayed, though, and when he hears Dabi move and automatically turns to look for him…there’s nothing. Just blackness. Nothing to see. Anxiety rises in him even as his body slumps, wings puddling limply behind him, jaw going slack. It’s not quite as strong as the hood—he can still think, sort of, still remember where he is and track—but it’s a hell of a drug. Dabi could do anything he wanted now.

“ Listen to me, ” Dabi says suddenly, deep and full of dominance. Hawks sways, lolling his head toward the voice. Is he shaking? He feels like he’s shaking, but only on the inside. Because he’s paying attention, the rest of his words filter in now. “There you are. Lost you for a second there, huh? Guess you weren’t kidding.”

Something touches Hawks’s hair, and he can’t even flinch; the gentle petting isn’t reassuring, but only makes him sick to his stomach. 

Another touch to his shoulder, then to his wings. They’re fleeting and utterly random, and Hawks can’t move to lean into them or jump away. He feels like he’s going to throw up. 

He can feel hands on him, hitting and grabbing, but dancing away before he can strike back. He’s so disoriented, can barely tell if he’s still standing or not.

“Use your feathers, Hawks. Sense for your enemies.”

“That’s it, baby bird. I’m not gonna leave you. Feel me with your feathers. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lays limp over the table in the dingy back room of some club, even though there’s a bed a few steps away. His hips hit the edge with every rough thrust as the dom behind him pants in his ear. 

“Such a good slut, take it. Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you come, huh?”

“Hey, where are you going in that pretty little head?” Dabi asks, tilting his chin up. Hawks manages to shiver. “I said focus on me. Yeah? How do you feel?”

“What do you feel, Hawks? Focus!”

“How’s that feel, slut, huh? That feel good?”

“-lor? Hawks. Hey baby, can you give me a color?”

Hawks can’t move. He can’t speak. He tries to push into Dabi’s hand just to convey something.  

“Alright, let me try this. Give me your color, Hawks. ”

He shudders as the command hits him, actually swaying to the otherside, slipping out of Dabi’s hold and almost falling onto his side before his dome catches him. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth, and by the time he’s gotten himself together enough to try to speak, the command forces his answer out without any consideration that it might be smarter to lie.

“Yellow.”

“Shit,” Dabi hisses under his breath. “Okay, I’m gonna take the blindfold off for a second. You can have it back later if you want.”

Hawks doesn’t want, but he sucks in a breath instead of saying so, closing his eyes as Dabi unties the silk. 

“Hey, let me see those pretty eyes, birdie. You’re alright. We’re just taking a second, no one’s in trouble. I’m glad you told me you’re feeling yellow.”

Hawks starts to tremble as he comes back to himself, feathers flaring and sharpening behind him. He looks around, feeling paranoid and stupid for imagining so many sets of phantom hands coming for him, but they’re alone. His breath comes faster anyway, and he wrings his shaking hands together because he couldn’t move and Dabi could have done anything he wanted, but more importantly Hawks fucked up and used a safeword when it wasn’t even a big deal and now Dabi is going to be mad and he might force the blindfold back on and do something worse than whatever he was originally planning–

“Hawks, hey, breathe,” Dabi says, grabbing his face gently and forcing him to meet his eyes. “You’re okay. You’re safe. No one else is here. I’m calling red, okay?”

“I–what?” Hawks jerks away from his hands. “What? Don’t do that, I’m fine, I can keep going, you…you can…”

“ I’m red, Hawks,” Dabi says firmly. “You’re freaking me out and I don’t want to continue. Okay?”

Okay. Okay. Dabi’s red, so it’s not Hawks’s fault. Except that it is, he’s being bad enough that Dabi doesn’t even want to punish him anymore–

“Yeah, okay, up we go to the bed,” Dabi mutters, grabbing Hawks under his arms and pulling him to stand. “You’re shivering. We’re gonna warm you up, okay? Cuddles. You hear me?”

What Hawks can hear is an undercurrent of urgency, anxiety lacing Dabi’s tone, but he can’t figure out why. He nods loosely, and Dabi pulls him onto the bed and under his big, fluffy down comforter. He is shivering. That’s weird. He shouldn’t feel cold, his apartment is temperature controlled.

“D-Dabi,” he tries, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” Dabi asks, working his way under the covers, too, tugging Hawks close. “I gotcha. You’re okay. Do you need anything?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Dabi sighs, petting his hair a little rougher than he usually does. “That’s okay. We’re just…taking a second. You’re good, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hawks lays there, mostly limp and gathered against Dabi’s chest, for a long time as his brain extracts itself from the soup of his various instincts and exhaustion. 

It’s only as he’s coming up that he notices the smallest tremor running through Dabi’s body, how tense he is even while cradling him so gently. He noses at him, unable to find words yet for his concern. Dabi only tenses up further.

“Yeah? You okay?”

“Better now,” Hawks says. He sits up a little, as much as he can without dislodging himself from Dabi’s hold. He doesnt feel like he’s dropping anymore, but Dabi definitely is. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dabi says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…how long were you yellow?”

Hawks stays quiet. 

“...You never wanted it,” Dabi says, quietly horrified. “ Hawks. ”

“I thought it would be okay with you,” Hawks lies. Sort of. Even he has a hard time telling what the truth is anymore.

He must sound pitiful enough to be believed, because Dabi doesn’t push. “Okay. Fine. But we need to get you a non-verbal safeword again, and we’re not blindfolding you anymore.”

“Okay.” What else can he say to that?

“What do you need? Are you warm enough?”

Nothing, what do you need? Hawks almost asks, before he realizes that isn’t going to work. “I could, uh, use a drink, maybe.”

“Got it. Stay—no, come with me. Can you walk?”

“I can walk,” Hawks says, simultaneously amused and touched and worried by Dabi’s fussing. 

He leads Hawks by the hand to the kitchen, rooting around in his half-empty fridge before coming up with some orange juice Hawks honestly did not realize he had.

“Better check the date on that,” he half-jokes. Can orange juice even go bad?

Dabi does check the date with a single minded focus, and inspects the container—still sealed. Really, why does Hawks have orange juice? He cracks it open and hunts down two cups, filling one with water and one with juice. Hawks grabs two more cups while he’s busy with that and pushes them toward him so insistently that Dabi fills them, too. 

“Sugar,” is all Dabi says as he pushes the orange juice toward Hawks first. 

He sips at it, feeling a little pinned under that intense blue gaze. “You gonna have any, or just stare at me all night?”

Dabi drinks his juice, too. And his water. When they’re done, Hawks suggests that he’s getting a little chilly again, so Dabi ushers him back to bed. It’s a little odd, being on this side of things after a real scene. Sort of. He’s not sure what they did even counts, or how long it lasted. 

Once they’re both lying down again, now with the lights dim, Hawks brushes some of Dabi’s hair away from his eyes. 

“I’m okay,” he promises, with feeling this time. “Do you feel better now?”

Dabi exhales. “Yeah. Do you…can we talk about it?”

Hawks doesn’t want to, but he thinks Dabi needs to, so he nods. “You didn’t…do anything. I thought I would like it, and then I didn’t. I just…started thinking too much, I guess.”

“About what?”

“Just…other doms,” Hawks says vaguely. He blanches when he realizes how it sounds. “Not like—you’re good. You’re great. Just, memories, I guess, of…less great times. Not even really much of that, it’s hard to think…like that. It just scares me when I can’t move and you could do anythi–”

“You can’t move?” Dabi asks, alarmed. “Hawks, you didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s supposed to make it so I don’t fight,” he says, yawning. 

Dabi looks somehow more horrified now. “I could’ve done anything and you wouldn’t have stopped me. You couldn’t even talk until I ordered you to, what the fuck? Why did you think that was okay?”

“I didn’t know it would be the same!” Hawks protests, pulling back and curling in on himself. A ball of ice forms in his chest. “I didn’t—I wanted to try, to be good for you. They liked it when…when I couldn’t fight.”

“I’m scaring you again,” Dabi sighs. “C’mere? I won’t snap anymore.”

Hesitantly, Hawks wriggles close to him again. Dabi pulls him into a loose hug and strokes his hair again. 

“We’re gonna talk more about introducing new shit in the future, okay? I want you to be honest with me about this, though, or it’s not gonna work. Don’t hide important context like blindfolds make it so I can’t move. ”

“Slightly hyperbolic,” Hawks mutters. “I could if I really tried.”

Dabi grumbles, clearly unconvinced. “I just want to sleep. Is…is that still okay? If I sleep here tonight? Wanna keep an eye on you.”

“Lucky for you, firefly,” Keigo hums, pulling him closer. “I wanna keep an eye on you, too.”