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Loving parties had been taught to Keigo in preparation for the future. After all, hero galas and hero networking parties were vital to a hero’s success. There was a reason that, despite Endeavor’s superior arrest numbers and amount of completed cases, he still was only Number Two. The guy wasn’t exactly likable or social.
The Commission had taught Hawks well, installing enough sincere passion that it affected Keigo’s admittedly un–emoting face. Was it petty that he reveled in heir their buyers’ regret every time Hawks threw the Halloween party of the year?
“If you at least kept the invitation list short!” One of his Commission–given PR manager grumbled as she surveyed the hustle and bustle of Hawks’ party getting set up. “Any blue–collar worker can appear among you top–heroes. And –“
Hawks stopped listening and had to actively suppress a cackle when another PR manager – one Hawks had recruited himself – rolled their eyes and snapped back. For a brief moment the urge to sow more chaos between his Commission–approved and personally approved staff vibrated in his bones. A glance past wiped that thought away.
New target acquired!
Quietly, Hawks slipped away and next to his fledgli– intern. Both the boy and his quirk were staring at everything, eyes wide and squinted respectively.
“Amazing, ain’t it?”
“Astounding,” Tokoyami murmured. Dark Shadow was wrapped around the boy’s arm twice, almost hugging him from behind as it peaked up and chirped. “Ama~~zing! Fumi loves it!”
“You better have a costume, too, Tsukoyomi–chan!”
The fledgling shuddered, his feathers ruffling as he repeated “costume” in such a horrified tone that there was nothing to do but laugh.
“I’m hurt! I’ve held the biggest, bestest costume party for heroes and world for years now.” His hand flicked up – gloveless, the smallest hints of talons growing – as Hawks used his knuckles for counting up. “One, two, three aaand four! Four years now. Would have thrown one my first year as Pro but I wasn’t high up enough in the Charts for the expense to be worth it.”
A hummed chirp signaled the fledgling’s acknowledgment. That noise always awakened the desire to indulge in bird vocalizations in Hawks. (He didn’t even want to imagine the correction course Madame would put him through if he gave in to that desire.)
“… Do I have to don a costume as well?”
“If you wanna come, yes. And you gotta come as my intern,” Hawks added and laughed again as Tokoyami’s shoulders slumped. A bit of hair ruffling on Hawks’ part elicited a mildly upset
caw
.
It was adorable!
(The fact that Tokoyami felt safe enough to display his less traditionally human parts melted something within Ke–Hawks’ chest. If anyone ever dared to reprimand his chick for those traits, Hawks would straight up commit murder. Ade, cushie couch cushions!)
“You’re such a basic bi–“
“Language, Miruko!” Hawks grinned at Rumi’s incredulous stare at both the content of his words as well as how he addressed her. Normally Hawks would use Rumi’s name, not the hero one, but he had to set an example!
“Whatever. A pirate costume that uses your own feathers as part of the deco is beyond lazy.”
Hawks would beg to differ although he merely grinned as he tipped his half–empty glass to her.
Gulping down the rest of his drink, Haws pointedly let his eyes wander from her high–heeled toes over her incredibly form–fitting suit and up to the black choker around her neck.
“You’re talking to me about unoriginality? Huh, literal playbunny?”
She shrugged, unbothered and with such a smug smirk on her face.
“If you have it, you’ve got to flaunt it. Sagely womanly advice I got and am passing on.”
Without a warning, Rumi slung her arm, her very muscled arm, around his neck. Disregarding Hawks’ honest efforts at escaping the hold only amused her. Hawks bet that she acted as an improvised hurricane on his hair for the sake of teasing him.
Maybe he should get a new friend?
“Sagely womanly advice is wasted on me, and we both know it.”
Miruko threw her hack, bellowing a laugh so loud his ears popped. Not Present Mic–level noise but not much better. Some people turned and almost cracked their necks trying to catch a glimpse of the very loud noise.
Her level of “fuck it, don’t care” attitude was something to admire. Or rather her confidence. That was something he wouldn’t ever tell her. Wouldn’t want to inflate her ego.
“Sooo,” Rumi purred before clicking her tongue. “Annual tradition?”
People had gotten bored of searching for the person being too loud, so they weren’t looking anymore. (Hawks didn’t mind being looked at, he couldn’t afford to, but people were so touchy about their looks. If Hawks snorted because of the wrong fit and he was unlucky, he’d offend someone the Commission didn’t want him to offend. And then he’d be in trouble.)
“Also thinking that I don’t wanna get the award for least effort put into your costume is kinda stupid.”
Hawks glared at her. There was no such award and she knew it. Her teeth and ears screamed “Prove me Wrong.”
Damn her.
With a huff, Hawks searched the crowd for his crow – cue internal snicker – and found him hiding in a corner. Rumi ambled behind Hawks when he zeroed in directly onto Tokoyami. Who froze as soon as Dark Shadow popped out and warned him rather overtly.
Rumi whistled. “Kit, you put the emo in teenager, didn’t ya?”
Before Tokoyami could answer Rumi – bluntly or not at all since Dark Shadow had retreated back into his fledgling – she bounced towards him and tugged at his hero cloak.
“Tokoyami…”
“It’s not my hero costume!” Hawks begged to differ. Halfway down Tokoyami’s torso a villain had managed to rip the cloak, which had then been sewn shut by one of Hawks’s support staff. The fabric they’d used was slightly different. Hawks could see that spot.
“...I’m not dressed as my darker self,” Tokoyami remedied. “I have cloaked myself in the skin of a mystic.”
With a heaving sigh, Hawks threw an arm over Tokoyami’s shoulder, ignoring Rumi who was now positively howling on the floor and once again drawing all the looks. “That doesn’t make it too much better. Come on, though, let’s play a little game of “Who’s a hero?”
Did Hawks just repurpose his yearly roasting session of Halloween costumes? Yes. Did he care all too much? No. Rumi played along, too.
To Hawks’s surprise, the costume roasting session was a good exercise. Body language, way of movement, behavior, color and costume choices – they all played a role in identifying who of the party goers apprehended villains for a living. At the start, Tokoyami was hesitant while his quirk judged too quickly and on “vibes” rather than observations.
“Is that supposed to be a clown?” Rumi muttered beside them. “Discount Penny at best. Like, look!”
Hawks saw the clown – white paint, nausea–inducing and neon–bright clothes, pink hair, move with purpose, hero – but as garish as the clown was, they didn’t hold his attention. No, that honor went to the person to the clown’s left.
The real eye-catchers were the wings . Huge white wings, lightly dusted with gold, the tips bathed in gold. Fake wings after a second look but still beautiful and their size meant they had to be heavy.
The man’s back was straight, his shoulders relaxed and movements smooth and easy in a white on white suit, with glass rindos winding their way up his chest.
Burning blue eyes behind a half-Venezuelan mask - shit, expensive, very expensive - grabbed Hawks and didn’t let him go. Smooth pale skin shifted into a smile and - the man was walking towards Hawks.
On a purely physical level, Hawks wanted .
A grin was already spreading on Hawks’s face - surely the many would greet him any second! - and the angel walked past him, real and fake feathers intertwining for the span of an eternal second. The angel would rather go to the bar.
Rumi’s elbow dug painfully into Hawks’ side. She cackled in response to his sudden swearing. “Oho, I know that look. Go get them, time to get over the other one you’re stuck on.”
Not likely but… why not? He turned towards Tokoyami. “Enjoy the rest of the party. Get back to UA by 9pm or Eraserhead will hunt me down and make a pillow out of me.”
Responsibilities done with, Hawks stepped to the bar, shivers running down his spine because half-lidded blues watched his every twitch. They were waiting, a demand, an expectation.
Hopefully, Hawks wouldn’t mess up -
“Would have thought a pirate would be faster,” the man rumbled and swirled the cocktail glass in his hand. A smile sauntered onto his face.
“I was trying to be a gentleman!”
“Don’t be! What kind of man of honor would a respectable man be?”
A thrill escaped Hawks’s throat. Man of honor. “Me. Now this respectable man wants your name and a talk.”
“Call me whatever you like.” Blue eyes tilted his head, slightly swaying forward and almost, almost touching Hawks again. “Rather forward of you to demand a talk.”
He tipped a long thin finger against his chin. Those fingers were adorned by sparkly glass rings and Hakws had to stare. He had to stare harder when those fingers curled together.
“Two conditions.”
One finger up. “Be real with me.”
What a loaded condition. No one had wanted him to be real, not since he was five.
Second finger up. “A dance.”
Bowing, Hawks took a moment to breathe. “Your wish is my command. Or rather, I’m getting what I wished for real easy, Angel.”
White eyebrows rose before he chuckled. “Oh be careful what you wish for. My opinions aren’t for the faint of heart.”
The clock striking midnight startled him from that quite frankly fascinating discussion about the efficiency of pro–heroes donating to any cause. Angel’s opinion differed from his – Keigo had never thought that donations could be anything but good but then again he had never considered misappropriation of funds, money laundering or funneling donations into already well–off areas.
All the regulars were already moving, loudly saying their goodbyes and trudging towards the doors.
“So the dance is over, Cinderella,” Angel murmured next to him, suddenly pressed to his side, closer than he had been the whole night.
“Cinderella? Between us, not the one who hid their identity. I’m the Prince!”
Angel’s rough chuckle heated up Keigo’s cheeks. Damn he was gone for a good voice, wasn’t he? (He banished black strands, silver gleaming all over his body and scorching blue eyes from his mind.)
“Fair.”
In a smooth motion, Angel dragged Keigo closer and rubbed their cheeks together. Fake feathers stroked his skin, too, as Keigo’s mind perceived a certain disconnect. All the unblemished skin Angel bared to the world had seemed unreal. And something uneven and textured grated against Keigo’s face.
“Time for night to end and return to reality, huh, pretty bird? It was fun!”
Lips feathered over one corner of Keigo’s mouth and he pulled back, smirking. With a saucy wink, Dabi turned around, wings shifting almost organically, and walked off.
No fear, no hurry.
No need to leave a glass shoe behind.