Archive of Our Own

Everything passes.

That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.

Everything passes.

—Osamu Dazai

The thing about a bird that can’t fly is that it has to do everything on foot, and the thing about walking on foot is that getting somewhere takes a lot more time that Hawks still needs to get used to. 

Even though it has been over a year. 

The coffee shop he visits every morning, even though he’s late, is not helping either. 

“Here you go, Hawks. A large cappuccino with four espressos and extra foam.” 

But it’s not like he can survive until midday without it. “Thank you. Keep the change.” 

“Hawks,” a female voice called. “I would have thought that our former number two would take his health more into account.”

“Rei,” his surprise was evident in his voice.

“Hello, dear.”

“Four espressos, really?” Fuyumi’s voice follows with disappointment. “You know, Natsu is always saying too much coffee can cause high blood pressure and heart diseases.” 

Winter had settled in, sharp and unrelenting, blanketing the streets in icy patches that made walking even slower. The air bit at his cheeks, and his breath formed visible puffs as he stands in the sidewalk. Snowflakes clung stubbornly to his coat, a reminder that the morning chill wasn’t letting up anytime soon. The Todoroki women seem to be perfectly at ease in their spring outfits, making it look like Hawks is the one out of place being covered in his many layers of clothes.

“Good thing he’s not here then.” He smirks.

“He’s in the car.” Fuyumi tells. He sideyes the car at the other side of the street, away from the coffee track. Through the window, he can see Natsu showing something on his phone to the person beside him, engaged in what looked like a heated conversation with a white-haired man—

Right. 

Dabi Todoroki. 

Or Touya Todoroki. 

Tuhmaatow, tuhmaytow.

Whatever. 

“Is he, er, doing better?” he dares to ask. 

“Much better,” Rei answered softly as Fuyumi placed their order. “Therapy has been incredible. He doesn’t talk about it much, but we've seen the results.” 

“I’m glad.” And he is. He actually is.

“You know,” Rei continues, because apparently the girl from the coffee track can’t make four drinks at the speed of one. “I never got the chance to thank you.” Hawks blinked in confusion, realization dawning a moment later.  “Your testimony was the key piece to pardoning his crimes.”

“Oh, there’s no need to—”

“Yes, there is.” She cuts him off “Thank you, Hawks.”

“We tried to reach you. After the trial.” Fuyumi joins with four drinks in her hand. “We couldn’t find you anywhere. Dad said not to bother you.” 

“I had unattended businesses.” He had. He really had. Business, in this case, meant hiding in another country before the public tore him apart—or until President Mera asked him to go back to the spotlight .

As soon as the trial ended and Dabi’s sentence was absolved, Hawks had answered a flurry of press questions outside the Supreme Court, reaffirming his support for reformation and reintegration. But the moment it was over, he’d stepped into a black van bound for the airport. There, Ragdoll had been waiting for him beside a private jet.

They had a lovely trip to Sweden, where a team of doctors awaited them to conduct a research in the most prestigious hospital to see if they could get their quirks back. 

Spoiler alert: they couldn’t. Karolinska Institute was the most advanced in genetic medicine in the world, but not even them could perform a miracle. 

The entire ordeal felt like punishment. Poor Ragdoll had been dragged along with him most likely because they needed to make their story plausible. It was even worse for her, he thinks. She was forced to go with him and sold the good scenario, even though she had already accepted the fact she was quirkless. 

The good thing was that they got really close, bonded by the same grief. The bad thing was that now both know exactly the way the other cries. 

“I see.” Rei looks unconvinced. “Well, I’d be very happy if you joined us today.”

“Huh?”

“Come to dinner. So we can properly thank you.” 

“Er, I really don’t think that’s nece—”

“Great idea, Mom!” Fuyumi cuts in, her eyes sparkling. “Shouto mentioned you like chicken. I’ll make yakitori! Or maybe karaage? I’ll just make both. I can swing by the grocery store after UA!”

“It’s settled then.” Rei says, soft smile on her face. “We’ll wait for you at seven.” 

“Wait—” And just like that they are gone. “Fuck.” 

Before the car leaves, Dabi and him lock eyes for what feels like an eternity. Did they tell him? Is he warning him about not showing up? 

*

Tokoyami waits for him at the entrance of UA. 

“You’re late.” 

“I couldn’t park anywhere.” He excuses himself. “Did they start already?” 

After the war UA had gone back to their usual calendar, meaning the students of third year were releasing their christmas music video. Which could end up really well or really bad. Considering the first thing he feels when he enters the theatre is the piercing look of Dabi, he is compelled to think the latter.

A wave of applause erupted as Hawks stepped onto the stage.

“Good morning, everyone. It’s an honor to stand here today, not as a hero, but as someone deeply inspired by the resilience and creativity of UA’s students. It’s not every day that we get to celebrate creativity, collaboration, and the incredible talent that makes up UA. The work you’ve put into these projects reflects your determination, vision, and recognition of the importance of public popularity.” Hawks’ gaze briefly locks with Dabi, catching him whispering something to Natsuo that makes the younger man blush and hide a laugh. Rei scolds them, and they both straighten up—but Dabi holds Hawks’ gaze, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “Today, we’re here to support the Department of Management and Heroism, and their ongoing mission to blend strategy, innovation, and public appearance. Your votes matter—so please remember to vote for who you believe deserves to win, and not only who you’ve come here to support. Remember, the winning entry will receive full funding from the Hawks Agency to create a professional release for the public. So sit back, enjoy the show, and let’s find out who’s got the best moves, the best visuals—or just the most heart. I’m excited to see what you’ve all been working on, plus ultra!” 

Hawks always feels weird after saying that. He wasn't raised under any plus ultra mantra, so even thinking it feels wrong.

When he finally sits in his place, his phone vibrates with a new message. 

D: Guess what? I’m having roasted chicken tonight

 

H: Spare me 

 

H: She didn’t give me a choice

 

D: You could’ve said no

 

H: Have you tried saying no to your mother? 

 

D: Whatever

 

H: You still remember my number?

Dabi doesn’t answer.

It’s not like they haven’t seen each other since his absolution, they have. A couple of times. Usually at UA. Or the police station. Enough to give a small nod of acknowledgement everytime they see each other. 

After the pardoning of his crimes, Dabi had been obligated to be institutionalized in a mental hospital, so he could get psychiatric help. Only when the doctor thought he was absolutely fine to go back into society and have a distance treatment was he able to go back home. 

Apparently he was treated in the same place his mother had been. 

Which is disturbing, at the very least. 

Hawks had sent him some flowers and a ‘get better’ card, for some fucking reason he still doesn’t understand. He doesn’t even know if he received the flowers considering he himself was in fucking Sweden. 

Three months after the trial, Hawks came back to manage his agency and go full on public image. Interviews, publicizing, public appearances. It had been a real pain in the ass. 

“Hawks-san,” Tokoyami approached him after the event. Some girl from class 3-B had won with a very american-style type of christmas song. Hawks really didn’t know her, but her voice was really good at least. “Here, I made you a shopping list.”

“Excuse me?” He heard a snort behind him, just when Dabi was passing by. He catched him putting his hand on Shouto’s hair, along with a couple of scandalized looks of the parents who were passing by.

“I’ve seen your apartment.” Tokoyami says. “You need a shopping list. Dark Shadow thinks I should’ve made you a Meal Plan, but I think your assistant has that cover.” 

“I am a grown man.” Hawks frowns. 

“Who doesn’t have a window cleaner and keeps take-out leftovers in his fridge.” 

“So?”

“Buy the damn things.” Dark Shadow appeared on the side. 

“You heard her.” 

*

By the time Hawks managed to leave UA, the weight of the evening ahead was pressing down on him like a lead blanket. At least his car is warm enough. He sits in the driver’s seat, staring at the shopping list Tokoyami had handed him. A small part of him appreciated the gesture—most kids didn’t even notice the lives their mentors have outside heroism. 

The other part though, the quiet one, is deeply offended by the lack of faith in his adulting abilities.

Still, there is something hilariously grounding about Hawks, once ex Number Two Hero and former war hero, debating whether to buy multipurpose cleaner or just wing it with hand soap.

“Yakitori and karaage,” he muttered, recalling Fuyumi’s enthusiasm. “Right. Let’s do this.”

The grocery store is blessedly empty, save for a few determined last-minute shoppers. Maybe because adult people are still working. Hawks strolls through the aisles with a cart in hand, attracting the occasional wide-eyed stare of the housewives that were doing their shopping too. A couple of kids whispers excitedly near the cereal section, clearly trying to decide whether to approach him or not. He offers a small wave, which sends them into a fit of giggles and hushed squeals. They end up asking for a picture. 

Somewhere between the cheese and meat counter, Hawks finds himself reflecting on Rei’s invitation. Dinner with the Todorokis. What could possibly go wrong. 

Plenty , his brain supplies. To start, he still feels like walking on eggshells around Dabi. 

The memory of Dabi’s smug smile at UA is fresh, and the idea of spending an evening in close quarters with him is... less than ideal. Still, he owed Rei. She isn’t the kind of person you could brush off with a polite excuse. 

As he tosses a pack of chicken wings into his basket, Hawks’ phone buzzes again.

D: If you’re late, I’m telling Fuyumi you hate her cooking.

 

H: Who said I’m showing up at all?

 

D: That'd be her villain backstory

Hawks snorts, sliding his phone back into his pocket. The thing about Dabi is that he never outright says what he means. He never lets his guard down, he is loaded, a cryptic puzzle to unravel, and he truly doesn’t care what others say or think about him. Hawks isn’t sure if it’s a defense mechanism or just Dabi being Dabi. 

He isn’t sure where exactly Touya and Dabi meet either. If they mingled into one or completely separate from each other. Like oil and water. 

He knows his family always call him Touya, but Hawks always knew him as Dabi. He supposes it would be unfair to think of him as two different people. Dabi had been Touya, born from his very rage. And while Dabi lived, Touya had hid inside of him. 

Now that Touya is primarily on the surface, he wonders if Dabi is still there. If he should stop calling him that. If the other even cared. But just how far had he advanced in therapy? After all, he’s been walking free for just a few months. Hawks knows (mainly because he asked to Endeavor) that Dabi had spent four months at Central Hospital in the prison wing, where he had been treated until recovering a functional state of his body, then he spent two months going to physical therapy to recover mobility of his body. When he was fully recovered, or as much as the doctors managed, they took him to Tartarus for a whole month awaiting trial. 

Hawks and everyone else had to sit and watch Dabi’s memories displayed in court. Endeavor discovered that quirk somewhere in Germany, and despite other people’s best judgement, they had decided to use it to prove Dabi was mentally ill. The whole thing felt like a double-edged sword. The prosecutor used Dabi’s history to try and imprison him for the people he’d killed, but the trauma he endured and Endeavor’s actions were enough to qualify Dabi as mentally ill when he committed the murders. That was easier to prove, considering Endeavor’s abuse had also driven Rei to mental illness.

Dabi’s involvement with the League was another point of contention, but given his mental state, that too slipped under the carpet. He still remembers that day, along with the anxiety he constantly felt. 

Luckily for everyone no media was allowed in the room when the memories were displayed, or the press would’ve become a fucking morbidity fest. Images and muted videos of people crying outside of court during the recession had still invaded the internet, making people question what they could have possibly seen, but at least that part of Dabi’s life had remained hidden under heavy NDAs.

“Hero Hawks, you spent a total of six months working undercover. During this time, is it true you spent more time with villain Dabi than other members of the league?” the prosecutor asked. 

“Yes, your honor.” Hawks’ voice was steady, though a part of him feared the storm the trial could inevitably become.

“What was your first impression of him?”

“He knew how to pull the edgy look.” The attempt at humor felt weak, but the courtroom’s tension was suffocating. Although he heard Dabi soft snort, the sound was almost lost in the murmur of the crowd. 

“Did you ever personally witness him murdering someone or committing any crimes?”

“I did not see him killing anybody.” It wasn’t like he could lie with Tsukauchi there as a lie detector machine personification. “But I did see him performing acts of terrorism, like realising the nomu that attacked Endeavor at Fukuoka.”

“During the time you worked undercover, did you witness any emotions in the line of remorse for his actions?”

“No. I did not.” Hawks’ brutal honesty sent a ripple through the courtroom, the sound of camera shutters filling the silence. He ignored them. “However, I did see other emotions displayed. Good emotions. I saw kindness towards other league members. Mainly Atsuhiro Sako, Himiko Toga, and Jin Bubaigawara.”

“And what exactly did he do?” 

“He would help Atsuhiro with his phantom pain, and Bubaigawara with his quirk triggered mental dysregulation. They were adults though, so I never saw him worrying much.” 

“And the girl, Toga Himiko?”

Hawks locked eyes with Dabi.

He wasn’t sure what Dabi wanted anymore—freedom, revenge, or simply chaos. Maybe death, likely Hawks’. Or his own. He had cut his hair, or someone had done it for him. It rather suited him. His eyes, however, burned as fiercely as ever. They bore into Hawks’ with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. Those eyes were asking him not to speak. Pleading with him, silently begging Hawks to keep this one part of him buried.

To keep the truth hidden.

The truth that Dabi cared for Himiko Toga like a little sister. That beneath his villainous persona, this was a secret he’d nurtured and protected, one of the few pieces of himself he wanted to guard from the world’s prying eyes.

If Hawks did that, then maybe Dabi would never see the day of light. 

A part of him couldn’t allow it.

“I saw him waking her up. He’d cook her breakfast, add some of his own blood to her drink so Toga wouldn’t be so moody during the day. Apparently, that made her kill less too—or decreased her instinct to drink blood, which eventually stopped her from killing. That was my take, at least. They’d sit in the living room watching Anpanman or whatever anime was on, and he never let her watch a horror movie. He’d help her with her buns as she ate breakfast, make sure she ate something at midday, and at night he’d braid her hair and send her to bed early, especially if it had been a particularly difficult day for her. Contrary to my initial thoughts, if Toga had a breakdown it wasn’t Atsuhiro who calmed her down, Dabi did.”

The courtroom sat in stunned silence, the weight of Hawks’ words sinking in like stones dropped into water. The image of Dabi—cold, unyielding Dabi—as a caring person that acted like an older brother was a stark contrast to his public persona, especially considering he had tried to kill his little brother.

“So even though I did not personally see remorse, I did see him being able to display positive feelings, loving emotions. I think the fact he is standing here, alive, is proof enough he is capable of those emotions.”

“Would you mind expanding on that?” The judge asked.

The murmurs grew louder. Hawks could feel the eyes of the jury, the judge, and the reporters burning into him. He felt unsure. He wasn’t a psychiatrist or anything alike. 

Dabi would end up hating him more, probably. Not like he particularly cared if he did.

“During the war I wasn’t part of his battle,” he said, his voice quieter now, “but I think everyone in this room can concede that Dabi’s flames are hotter than Endeavor’s. I can tell you that from personal experience.” His back ached with the memory, as if the burns left from Dabi’s fire weren’t fully healed. “Rei Todoroki is certainly not fireproof. The fact he did not kill Endeavor in that battle even though he could have was solemnly for fear of hurting or killing his own mother. That should be proof enough for this court that he is, in fact, capable of love.”

Hawks paused, his voice steady and firm. The fact that Tsukauchi hadn’t announced a lie was making him more confident that the court was headed to a probable positive outcome. “You don’t live through a childhood like his and come out unscathed. Touya Todoroki’s life was forged in flames—not just the literal ones, but the kind that consumes your heart and soul. The kind that leaves you believing you’re unworthy of love if you do not exceed expectations, that you have nothing left to give but pain. But what he showed Toga… what he chose to show her, despite everything he’s been through… and the fact he tried to protect his mother… that’s not something an emotionless monster does. That’s someone who still has humanity buried deep within.”

The room felt as though it held its breath. The judges’ gavel rested silently on their block, the jury exchanging uncertain glances. Among them, a young woman in the front row seemed to hesitate, her pen faltering mid-scribble in her notes. For the first time, the stoic rigidity of the lay judges cracked, allowing the humanity of the moment to seep through. Even one of the professional judges suddenly looked unsure of the narrative they had been crafting in their head.

“Hero Hawks, do you believe Mr Todoroki deserves to live as a free man?” 

Hawks paused, weighing the question and its implications. The courtroom felt like it was holding its breath. If Dabi Todoroki was absolved from the death penalty, he would still most likely be condemned to jail. Even in the remote scenario he was sent free, would he be able to disappoint his family by turning into villany again? 

“He’s me, your honor,” Hawks finally said.

“Excuse me?”

“He’s me and I’m him—” 

“Urgh, could you not be corny and dramatic during my trial? This isn’t Netflix,” Dabi interjected, his finger pointing lazily toward Hawks. “You always do this shit—”

“Could you elaborate?” the jury interrupted, silencing Dabi’s snark with a sharp look.

Hawks sighed, gathering his thoughts. “I’m a hero. My father was a villain. Dabi’s a villain, and his father was a hero. Had the Commission not found me, I would’ve grown up in poverty. I’d likely have ended up just like him—growing up on the streets, stealing to survive, maybe killing for food, or as a job. 

“Even after Endeavor arrested my father, I was still living on the streets until the Commission offered my mother money to train me as a hero.”  He glanced at Dabi, whose calculating gaze hadn’t wavered. “Nobody found him, nobody helped him. If he’d known the love of his family—love they clearly have for him—don’t you think he would’ve been destined for something else? He could still be destined for something else. Or is it that we, as a society of heroes, don’t believe in redemption or reintegration? Are we doomed to fail those we should be saving? Or do we only save certain parts of our society?”

The only sounds in the courtroom were from the protests outside the court, everyone inside were holding their breath after hearing his statement. He allowed himself to take the opportunity to turn his words into a double edge weapon. 

If it ended up burning Japan again, well, he would cross that bridge when he had to. 

“I believe Touya Todoroki deserves the chance to prove us wrong.”

Hawks ends up sitting on his couch as he watches the apartment looking at least more domestic with all the bags in the kitchen counter. He still has a few hours before leaving his apartment, if he even decides to go. 

*

“You’re early,” Shouto says, his voice as deadpan as ever.

“I live to impress.” Hawks grins, holding up the bag. “Brought some chips and beer. Sorry kid, didn’t know you were here.”

“That's fine.” Shouto tilts his head, a faint smile ghosting his lips. Ever since the war ended, Hawks thinks he has seen the kid smiling more. The front yard is big, and there’s space to have at least three cars on the left side. The zen garden on the right side is still visible, having snow not fallen into Musufatu yet. He has a perfect view of a statue with many arms standing in the middle.  “Mom, old man, Hawks’ here! Come in.” 

And then there is Dabi, leaning casually against the far wall, arms crossed. His eyes meet Hawks’ the moment he steps in, and the smirk that follows is enough to set Hawks’ nerves on edge.

“I’m glad you made it,” Rei’s warm greeting cut through the tension. She approaches him with open arms, and he awkwardly balances the bag and beers to give her a one-armed hug.

“What happened to the ‘I’m not going’ thing?” Dabi asks.

“Homemade dinner versus questionable takeout in my fridge? Seems kinda obvious.” Hawks looks around the room, noticing the contrast against his own living room. He hadn’t been to the new Todoroki house, but the traditional Japanese style isn’t a surprise. They had some pictures framed, a shelf full of cds and vinyls, a guitar, but most importantly, a big christmas tree. 

“I thought you were buddhist.”

“We are also capitalist.” Dabi says. “The women of this family are obsessed with it.”

“Says the one who bit me because he wanted to put the star on top.” Shouto’s sassy comment makes him snort.

“You always put the star on top.” Another voice says from behind. Weird, he has been under the impression that Natsuo doesn’t live here.

“Not my fault he faked his death.” Shouto murmurs.

“I had my doubts if you would actually come.” Natsuo puts a hand on Hawks’ shoulder. “Good thing you didn’t break our poor sister’s heart. I think she might have combusted if she didn’t find a new way of cooking chicken.” 

“While Fuyumi gets ready, why don’t we sit for a bit. I’ll bring tea. You must be exhausted.” Rei excludes herself.

“So…” Hawks sit on the couch opposite Dabi. “You actually like christmas?”

Dabi shrugs, leaning back lazily. “I like the food. I’m not gonna sing carols or anything.”

“‘Just the food’ Right. Only you could make decorating a tree feel like a hostage situation,” Natsuo remarks dryly.

“I have experience.” Dabi smirks. “Also, don’t you have a girlfriend to annoy?” 

Hawks feels dizzy. He hasn't spent much time with this family, at least not since they've become a complete family, there’s always someone missing. He would feel more reassured if Endeavor was there, he could annoy him at least. But even though he knows he’s in the house, he still hasn’t seen him. 

Dinner with the Todorokis. Feels a bit like a hallucination. Or a reality show. 

“Hawks, are you spending the holidays with your family this year?” Rei asks as she returns with a tray of tea. Shouto, on his part, leans behind the tree and lights it on. He hadn’t imagined the house to feel so warm and light.

“Oh, no. I don’t do holidays.” 

“None?” Natsu frowns. 

“Er, not really. I always do charity events.” 

“Always?” Rei’s tone is gentle, but her brows furrows slightly.

“Tokoyami said you don’t even celebrate your birthday.” Shouto adds.

Rei gasps, then composes herself back to her stoic self. “Well, I’ve heard things have been a bit easier, so you’ll surely spend Christmas with your mother this year?” 

“Oh… I don’t really talk to my mom.”

“Why so?”

“Er…” Hawks hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. He locks eyes with Dabi for a second. “She moved away,” he says carefully. 

“Aren’t you rich?” Shouto asks bluntly.

“Does she live in a summerly place?” Natsuo asks.

“Well yeah— I mean yes I am, and… I wouldn’t know, I don’t really talk to her.” 

“Because I threatened to kill her.” Dabi says suddenly. His voice is flat, almost bored, as if he was talking about the weather. “And you testify in my trial.” 

The room freezes. Natsuo’s figure tightens lightly. Rei, who had been setting down the last of the tea cups, pauses mid-motion, her gentle smile faltering as her eyes dart to Dabi then back to Hawks. Only Dabi remained unmoved, leaning back unbored. 

It had been a provocation, that much Hawks’ is sure. He isn’t sure why, but it almost feels like the time they had been working together. 

The weight of the revelation hangs thick in the air, pressing down like the heat of a fire that had yet to burn out.

Hawks’ needs to breathe for a moment. Dabi doesn’t look particularly regretful even though his mother does. 

Then, unexpectedly, Hawks starts to laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hawks says, holding up a hand in apology. “You think too highly of yourself, Dabi. I haven’t talked to my mother in ten years—you had nothing to do with it.”

“I… don’t?” He asks, confused. 

“No. If anything you forced her to make a choice, but it was still hers.” 

Hawks, trying to move the focus to something else, points to a framed picture on the coffee table. “Whose that?”

Dabi says, “The old man with his old man. We never met him.”

Hawks turns to Natsuo, then back to the picture. “A copypaste machine.” 

*

Turns out Endeavor is really living with everyone. He was just in the kitchen with Fuyumi when he arrived. The last thing he knew when he came back to Japan was that they lived in separate houses, Fuyumi and Natsuo had moved together and Rei had stayed to take care of Enji. As weird as it was.

Apparently, everyone lives together now. Or regularly spends time together. 

Which is as weird as it could get.

He’d lie if he said he isn’t dying to know how that happened or why. 

“Hello to you too, Endeavor–san.” Hawks greets.

“Hawks, I will be forever in debt,” Endeavor says. “For speaking in favour of Touya’s case. I would bow but…” 

“No need. I prefer you as this anyway. It feels good to be the taller one now.” He mocks.

“Mh.” Endeavor’s face looks different, although not entirely unrecognizable, a series of healed burn scars twisted his once-familiar features. The skin across his cheeks and forehead had been permanently altered, mottled with uneven patches of pink and pale white, where the burns had once been fresh. Although he supposes now all the Tokoroki family has that in common, some less than others. “You were always quite short.” 

“Ouch, we haven’t seen each other in months and that’s the first thing you say to me?” 

“Technically it was his thanks.” Shouto says as he helps set up the table.

“Is there something you wished I said? Or something you wish to say?”

“Oh my god yes.” Hawks sit by Dabi’s side, close to the end of the table where Endeavor’s chair is. “Awata-san is dating Mizushima-san! Rumi found them in the charity gala’s bathroom!” 

Endeavor blinks slowly, which almost makes him laugh because he surely looks like an old man. And then, slowly, he replies “I thought Mizushima was gay.” 

Hawks snorts. “So did I!” 

Dinner is Oyakodon, which goes hand in hand with winter air. There’s also karaage, which he loves. 

“Neesan remembered you liked chicken.” Natsuo says. “Isn’t it weird though? Does it taste weird?” 

“I wouldn’t know if it did.” Hawks answers.

“Does eating chicken make you a cannibal?” Fuyumi considers.

“Nope. That was Moonfish.” Dabi joins the conversation.

Hawks snorts when everyone returns to silence.

“Okay, first of all, ew. Secondly, technically hawks eat smaller birds, like songbirds and chickens. Although I suppose I would be a flightless hawk, consider, you know.”

“The lack of wings?” Shouto quips in.

Somewhere between the seriousness of which Hawks said it, and the seriousness of Shouto’s face makes Dabi laugh. 

“You are a flightless bird.” He snorts. “Who eats flightless birds. Oh my god , you are a chicken now. So technically—”

“No—”

“You are kinda cannibal.” 

Natsuo openly laughs in a way that is infectious, so much that even little Shouto lets out a snort and a so faint smile appears in Endeavor’s face. 

Which is weird. Never in his hero life did he see that man soft smile. Never. Not while working together, nor out of work. Not like he saw him out of work much, but still.

*

“I think my body could actually explode from all that food,” Hawks groans as he sprawls out on the couch, one hand resting dramatically on his stomach. “How the hell is your sister still single if she can cook like that?”

“I would actually kill you,” Dabi deadpans, pausing mid-step before sitting on the couch by his side. His expression shifts, brows furrowing as if Hawks had confessed a mortal sin. “I’d become a villain again and burn your flesh to the ground.

“Didn’t you try that already?” Hawks quips without missing a beat, his grin cocky.

“Wrong answer,” Dabi says, igniting a flicker of flame in his finger as a warning, although they know that it’s just for plays. Hawks’ eyes linger a moment too long on the fire—greenish to blue, not quite the vibrant blue he expected. Hawks can’t help but think it quite suits him, though he’d never say that out loud.

Hawks raises both hands in mock surrender, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “Relax, I was just wondering. She’s beautiful, she’s got a great job, and she’s basically a master chef. It’s a valid question.”

“She never had the time,” Shouto says calmly as he settles into a beanbag near the Christmas tree. Rei’s soft hums and the clinking of dishes echo from the kitchen, where Endeavor keeps her company while Fuyumi had disappeared inside the house, “Mom was away, Touya was dead, Natsuo went through a rebellious phase—”

“Rightful rebellious phase,” Natsuo interjects, cracking open a beer and handing one to Hawks.

“And Dad was being, well, Dad,” Shouto continues, unfazed.

Dabi retaliates by lobbing a pillow at Shouto, who ducks it just in time. “Right. I guess I wasn’t easy to raise, either.” 

“But she’s free now, isn’t she?” Hawks presses, his voice teasing.

Dabi sends another pillow flying, this one hitting Hawks squarely in the chest.

“I was just making a point!” Hawks laughs. “She’s got more free time to date now. That’s a fact.”

“Try telling her that,” Dabi murmurs, picking up his drink.

“The only one with a sex life in this house is Natsuo-nii,” Shouto says abruptly, his attention still fixed on his phone as he texts.

“Shouto!” Natsuo’s face flushes a deep red, the blush creeping down to his neck. “You are not supposed to say stuff like that!” 

“He ain’t lying!” Dabi scolds him. “Your girlfriend could learn a thing or two about subtlety, especially if you’re gonna sneak her in during the middle of the night.” 

“You know?!” Natsuo’s voice is almost a squeak.

“I was an S-rank villain, ‘course I know. There are like five different ways of coming into the house unnoticed, from which your girlfriend knows zero.” 

Hawks doesn’t comment on the fact Dabi knows this information and apparently doesn’t use it. 

“Sly dog, Natsuo-kun.” Hawks teases, raising his beer in a mock toast. “It’s always good to have sex.” 

This time Natsuo is the one that sends him a flying pillow. 

“Don’t mind me,” Shouto says calmly. “I live in a student dorm.” 

Dabi snorts to that. “I bet you need an NDA to even think about screwing anyone.” He says to him. Hawks doesn’t miss the way his eyes move, as if he’s checking him out. 

“Every hero in the ranking needs one.” He admits with a shrug. “That’s why sex’s always been complicated and stressful. Even when I don’t have any.”

Dabi glances at him, his eyes intense. “That’s why you should have it. Some say.” He fires back. The sharpness of his tone makes Hawks glance at him.

“And you are not on the rankings anymore.” Natsuo points out.

“Doesn’t make it less complicated.” Hawks says softly, breaking eye contact.

“I hope you three are not engaging in improper topics of conversations.” Endeavor says coming into the room with Rei.

“They were talking about sex,” Shouto announces, entirely unapologetic. “But don’t worry, they’re not having any.”

Dabi hurls a pillow directly at Shouto’s face, hitting him with pinpoint accuracy. “Don’t snitch. Nobody likes a snitch.”

Hawks is struck by how effortlessly they can just... exist together. It’s not just Dabi with him—though that in itself is a revelation. Their conversation feels light, almost natural, which is a far cry from the last time they’d shared a room. Back then, Hawks couldn’t lower his guard, not with Dabi always keeping his up. But he acts differently around his family. He can see how they fit together despite their past. Watching them now feels like peering into a window, an intruder or spectator witnessing something intimate and unfamiliar: they’re different. They feel different. 

He isn’t surprised about Shouto. The kid’s still an adolescent, on the cusp of early adulthood, shaped by the influence of peers and distanced from the weight of this household. And after everything—surviving a war, enduring trauma—it makes sense that Shouto  would evolve, that he’d have the space to grow into someone new. But Natsuo? Hawks finds that harder to reconcile. Natsuo, the same person who once declared he wanted nothing to do with Endeavor, had seemed unshakable in his anger. Yet here he is, sitting casually among them, his animosity softened into something more tolerable, if not entirely gone. Although Hawks hasn’t seen him interacting with his father at all.

Then there’s Endeavor and Rei, stepping into the living room like it’s the most natural thing in the world—although he supposes at one point it had been. Hawks half-expects Dabi to bristle, to tense or lash out at the sight of his father. He watches him from the corner of his eye. The way he drinks, his eyes flickering with faint amusement. The way he doesn’t tense when Endeavor is near. He just sits there, unconcerned, as though Endeavor’s presence doesn’t weigh on him at all. It’s different from before. He’s different from before.

It’s unfamiliar territory for Hawks. He’s used to fractured relationships, masks of civility, and the barriers people build to protect themselves. The Todorokis have those too, they are fragile but real, but apparently stronger than his own.

Endeavor sights loudly after hearing Shouto’s comment.

He clears his throat, changing the subject. “So, Hawks, are you planning any charity events this month? You always do something around Christmas.”

“Niigata,” Hawks replies, leaning back and grateful for the shift. “I’ll be there days before Christmas. I left a lot of shelters unfinished because of the war, so I’m trying to catch up.”

“Your women and children protection program.” Shouto chimes in, still texting. “Tokoyami mentioned it.” 

“That kid needs to stop strutting me around.” Hawks mutters with a laugh. “But yeah, it’s back on. Now that I’m off the field, I have more time.”

“I thought you’d retire,” Dabi says, arching a brow. “Or stick to a desk.”

“Nah. My heroism was never just about the field.”

Dabi looks at Endeavor with a smug smile on his face. “The student surpassed the master. Could’ve learned a thing or two.”

“Technically, I never studied under Endeavor. I was just a fanboy.” 

“You were married though.” Shouto looks up from his phone. “Work husbands.” 

“I did not want to hear that.” Dabi says bitterly as he drinks from his beer. 

“Did you have a room covered in posters and figurines of Endeavor like Midoriya of All Might?” Shouto asks. 

“Thankfully, I wasn’t allowed.” Hawks snorts. “But I did wear boxers with his face.”

“Urgh,” Dabi and Natsuo groan in unison.

“I did not want to know that,” Endeavor mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Anyway, in the absence of a t-shirt, you could sign me one,” Hawks jokes, making Natsuo gag.

“If you bring Endeavor-themed underwear into this house, I’ll burn it,” Dabi warns, deadpan. “And your ass with it.”

“You already did that.” Hawks retorts as he drinks from his beer, catching Dabi side eyeing him. 

“Did I?” He murmurs, his eyes drafting to his ass.

“Just a bit.” He shrugs. 

“I found it!” Fuyumi screams from one of the rooms. When she comes back there’s a box with translucent plastic spheres on her hands. 

“Those can’t be what I think they are,” Dabi groans. “Aren’t those, like, three decades old?” 

“Oh Fuyumi, it’s a wonderful idea.” Rei says warmly.

“When Touyai-nii and I were kids, we made personalized Christmas baubles,” Fuyumi explains. “We stopped when Natsuo was three, and Shouto never got to make one. I thought, since Hawks-san hasn’t celebrated Christmas, he shouldn’t have either.”

Dabi shakes his head. “So my Pokémon cards got lost in the move, but these survived. Unbelievable.”

Fuyumi puts the box in front of him. “Hawks–san, suits yourself,” she says warmly, setting the box down. “Go on.”

“I—uh.” Dabi moves to reach the box, picking up a bauble and blue glitter, as their shoulders brush Hawks can feel an electrical pull towards him. Weird. “Yeah alright,” Hawks hesitates before grabbing red and gold glitter.

The children, or rather everyone but Rei and Endeavor, sit on the floor, spreading newspapers to catch the mess. Hawks works in silence, acutely aware of the laughter and teasing around him, unsure if he should be there or should have shove off to his apartment when they had finished eating. 

Rei had sat on the couch, just by Endeavor’s chair, both silently looking at them while also trying to catch some of the news on the tv.

In the end, Hawks ends up making a bauble with red and golden glitter, Dabi makes a very electric blue—resembling his fire, Fuyumi makes a pink one, and somehow manage to make a flower, Natsuo makes a very messy multicolor bauble, and Shouto makes one half red half silver. 

Rei smiles when looking at his bauble. “It matches the tree perfectly.”

Hawks feels a strange warmth at her approval when he realises the color scheme of the tree was red and gold.

“Your originality is pathetic,” Dabi laughs, eyeing Shouto’s bauble. 

“I don’t take criticism from someone who bedazzled his fire with sparkles,” Shouto replies.

“You should put them on the tree.” Endeavor says. 

He feels weird. Should he put his on the tree? It's not his tree, or his house, nor his long lost tradition. But the bauble matches the color scheme, and Rei had smiled warmly as she complimented it.

Later, when it’s placed on the tree, it gleams among the others. Hawks can’t shake the feeling that it doesn’t fit—but also, strangely, he doesn’t want to take it out.

Shortly after, he excuses himself and retreats to his empty apartment, where no Christmas tree or traditions await him. Before he leaves, Fuyumi pulls him into a firm hug, her warmth lingering as she suggests he visit more often. Natsuo makes an offhand comment about a movie night, and Shouto offers a faint, sincere smile before wishing him a safe return.

Rei approaches him with quiet grace, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “Thank you,” she says softly, her voice just for him. Then she embraces him, a touch so full of warmth that Hawks suddenly understands—Fuyumi’s steadfast hold doesn’t come from Endeavor but from her mother.

Endeavor, for his part, thanks Hawks again for everything. There’s something almost strange about his expression—an unfamiliar softness tugging at the edges of his stern attitude that makes him want to run, activating his survival instincts.

Dabi follows him to his car like an escort, hands buried deep in his pockets, his gait lazy but deliberate, as though he has all the time in the world.

“You’re dying to ask, so just do it,” Dabi says, leaning against the gate with a practiced ease of someone who pretends not to care.

Hawks pauses mid-motion and looks back at him, the door of his car halfway open. The streetlight overhead casts a faint glow, illuminating the sharp lines of Dabi's face. He looks so different from the first time they met—sharper, more grounded, yet still carrying the faint edge of chaos that makes Hawks keep his guard up.

“I can understand almost everything,” He says, crossing his arms. “I just missed the part where the five of you manage to live together and not kill each other.”

Dabi snorts, the sound short and derisive. “I tried to, for the record.”

“Right.”

“It’s quite easy actually,” Dabi says, his tone frivolous but measured. “Mom sleeps in her own room. Shouto and Natsuo live in their dorms most of the year, so they aren’t forced to deal with this place. They come for the holidays and weekends out of their own devotion. Sometimes Natsu crashes for more weeks until he grows tired of the old man and goes back to his dorm. Shouto sticks around for the weekends every now and then. Fuyumi has her job during the week, so it’s not like she’s here 24/7 either. It’s not super cozy or ultra-familiar or anything like that, but we make it work.”

“And you?” Hawks asks, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “What do you do?”

Dabi smirks, that same infuriating, devil-may-care curve of his lips that Hawks remembers from their night meetings during the uprisings of the war. “Worried about me?”

“Call it healthy curiosity,” Hawks says with a shrug that’s more for show than anything.

“I’m finishing my studies. Got a huge test coming up next April.”

“So you do home studies?”

“Pretty much. People are usually too scared to bother me, so I get plenty of peace and quiet. Parks and the library are decent escapes when I need them.”

Hawks raises an eyebrow in skepticism. For his dear life he can’t imagine Dabi in a library. 

“Does your brain ever stop working? What—did you think I was gonna spend my entire life in volunteer seclusion?” Dabi leans forward slightly, his tone shifting from playful to something colder, sharper, as though daring Hawks to press further. For a moment, the air between them feels charged, like a wire stretched too tight.

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” Hawks says finally, his tone light but edged with something harder. He straightens and steps toward his car again. “Right. I better be going, then.”

“It’s a good thing you came, by the way,” Dabi says suddenly, his voice quieter, almost begrudging. “Meant a lot to Mom.”

Hawks freezes for half a beat, then smirks, his hand brushing against the door handle. “I thought you didn’t care?”

Dabi shrugs. “Like I said. Whatever.”

*

There’s something about desk work that absolutely sents Hawks into a manic caffeine episode.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Except he hates it.

He despises it with every fiber of his being. He tries, really tries, to convince himself it’s not that bad—an essential part of hero work, something every professional should master—but no matter how much he rationalizes it, paperwork remains a black hole of monotony that sucks the life out of him.

And yet here he is. At his kitchen counter, making his fourth coffee of the afternoon, surrounded by towering stacks of neglected forms and official reports, and monumentally ignoring Mera’s constant spam on his email. 

He already let him know his conditions for what he’s asking. 

It wasn’t like this before. Back then, he could hide behind the chaos of his hero career. Missions, galas, press events, undercover operations—he always had something urgent, something exciting, to keep him away from the paperwork pile. His sidekicks would handle the dull admin tasks while he saved lives or tried to join villainous organizations. 

But now…

Now he isn’t going on missions. His wings are gone. He has more time to stay at home, and although that’s exactly what he had wanted, sometimes the quiet is too loud. He has too much time on his hands and not enough excuses. Which means no more dodging responsibility, and a whole lot of desk work staring him down.

At least he has Tokoyami, who takes to the drudgery of paperwork with a determination Hawks finds both impressive and vaguely guilt-inducing. Hawks always feels a little bad when he hands off the more tedious forms, but it’s easy to justify. ‘Learning desk work is key to hero work,’ he’d tell the kid, masking his own avoidance as wisdom.

A knock at the door pulls him from his caffeine-fueled spiral of self-pity.

He glances toward the clock. Tokoyami. Punctual as ever.

“Coming!” Hawks calls, balancing his mug precariously in one hand as he weaves through the cluttered room.

When he opens the door, there stands his intern, his serious demeanor unshaken even while holding a comically large stack of neatly organized files. Beside him, Shouto Todoroki, looking mildly inconvenienced but polite as always, and—

“Yo,” Dabi draws, dressed in a black leather jacket and a plain white t-shirt. His dark jeans are slightly frayed at the ankles, a few chains hanging from his belt, his boots look well-used, his messy hair spikes up naturally, and a few silver rings on his fingers are the only noticeable accessories. It’s not simple look, but it suits him perfectly. 

Even with money he keeps looking like Dabi. Maybe if his life had never gone to shit he would still ended up becoming a punk. 

Hawks blinks. “Uh…”

“Bathroom,” Dabi says simply, holding up a hand as if that explained everything.

Hawks gives a long, exaggerated sigh and steps aside. “Sure, make yourself at home. Why not?”

Dabi sauntered in like he owned the place, while Shouto followed, casting an apologetic glance at Hawks. Tokoyami steps in last, with three folds in hand. 

“I had to ask Todoroki to help with some numbers,” Tokoyami says, setting the files down meticulously on the nearest flat surface. “And I finished reviewing the reports you asked me to check.”

“I tagged along hoping you could check them, I hope you don’t mind.” Shouto says. “Endeavor taught me a long time ago but I never put it to use.” 

Hawks momentarily wonders if Dabi helped them as well, as if that would explain why he’s there. He smiles despite himself, the corners of his eyes softening. Then, realising he is smiling thinking of Dabi, he quickly goes back to a more composed expression. “You’re a lifesaver, Tokoyami-kun. Where would I be without you?”

“Dead, probably,” Tokoyami replies, deadpan. “If not by murder then by food poisoning.” 

Shouto snorts softly. “Touya-nii promised to take us for some ice cream after, hope you don’t mind him. If you are not too busy you could come along.”

“You are very kind, Shouto-kun. But I’m actually really busy. Enjoy school years while you can.”

“Told ya,” Tokoyami murmurs. 

“Who even needs that many hair products?” Dabi asks in disbelief, reappearing from the hallway. 

“Your mom.” Hawks jokes. 

“I’ll kill you.” Dabi snarls back. 

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Hawks sit in one of the chairs from the kitchen counter. “And you keep failing at it.” He looks up and realizes Dabi still looks at him, looking somehow startled. 

He can feel Tokoyami’s eyes drifting between the two men. He’s probably the most cautious in the room. 

“I told you it was okay,” he hears Shouto murmuring close to Tokoyami. 

“Right.” 

“You wear glasses?” Dabi asks suspiciously, his curiosity piqued.

“Ah,” he says, taking them out. “I had a superhuman vision before, now I guess time’s just catching up with me.”

Dabi seems to be startled by this new information, and looks even disappointed when he takes them out.

“So,” Dabi began, “you’re desk jockey now? Miss jumping off the roof?”

Hawks shoots him a glare but doesn’t answer right away. Because the truth is… yeah, he does miss it. He misses the thrill, the feeling of soaring through the sky with no driving license. Desk work can’t fill the void, not even a little bit.

“He does,” Tokoyami says, breaking the silence.

“Traitor,” Hawks muttered.

Dabi chuckles softly, a sound that sends a shiver down Hawks’ spine. “Figures. Guess we’re all just a little restless these days, huh?”

“Some more than others,” Shouto said, eyeing Dabi with a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

Hawks shooks his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. He knows Dabi probably misses those days too. Hell, if not villainy then there’s no way he doesn’t miss his friends. 

He tries not to think about it, otherwise he might comment on it and end up making everything more awkward. 

“Heard you’re taking the kids for some ice cream.” Hawks tries to make small chat as he reads the reports. “Even though it’s winter.”

“He just feels bad because he scared Tokoyami in the morning.” Shouto says, unapologetic. Dabi avoids the glance Shouto shoots him by looking aghast at the pile of folders on his desk, along with a meticulous look at the rest of his apartment.  

Hawks suddenly feels mortified at the lack of Christmas decoration. Or personal decoration, for that matter. 

“Todoroki-kun, I don’t think it’s nece—” Tokoyami tries to speak.

“He entered my bedroom screaming about his console—”

“I didn’t know you invited someone over!” Dabi accuses, his finger wagging dramatically. “And your other friend did explode it.” 

“He felt bad after scaring Tokoyami so he is threatening us with food now.” 

“Like a true older brother, makes me envious,” Hawks says, dismissing his concerns. “Although I wouldn’t hang out with two teenagers during winter break, especially with the cold outside.”

“Fuck no,” Dabi frowns. “I’ll leave them there to rot and pay for the food. Natsuo’s waiting for me at the movies.” 

How many times will this version of Dabi keep surprising him?

“It’s better when he tries to bribe me than kill me.” Shouto says. Dabi and Hawks snort to that and share a quick glance. Dabi freezes for a fraction of a second before his cocky smirk returns, sharper now. Hawks notices, filing it away with the other pieces of this new version of Dabi he’s still trying to understand. Tokoyami just sights exasperated. 

“Are you okay eating cold things in winter, Tokoyami-kun?” He asks as he revises the last folder. 

“I’m impervious to extreme cold,” he says. “Raven traits I guess.” 

“We found out after I glacier him up during training.” Shouto adds, strangely talkative. 

Hawks lets out a long whistle and leaves the folders to the side. “Well, this is good to go. Thank you both.” 

“Wait,” Tokoyami says before he shoots a look at his kitchen. 

“That’s enough. Go enjoy your evening—” He tries to hurry them up before Tokoyami can—

The kid starts opening cabinets at the same time Hawks leaves out a loud sight. “May I remind you you are not my mother, Tokoyami-kun.” 

“What happened to the groceries?” He sounds annoying. 

“I ate them.” Hawks says. “I bought food and I ate food. Now, out of my apartment.” 

“You ate all of it ? You know you’re supposed to do groceries once a week? What are you planning on eating today?”

Hawks looks away, defeated. He hears Dabi snorting by the door. 

“I’ll order something. Now. Out.” 

The door closes softly, but Hawks still feels the weight of Dabi’s gaze on him, lingering like a forgotten word before being told. It’s not just frustration in his chest—there’s something deeper, something unsettled that pulls at him, something he can’t quite name but feels in every fiber of his being. He recognizes the emotion from the times they were trying to trust each other, when they would meet in abandoned buildings and Dabi’s eyes would feel too intense for him to hold, yet he never looked away. 

Three hours later, when the pile of unfinished work is finally lower than the completed, there’s a sound at his door.

When he opens it, a small box with the name ‘Hawks’ is left on the floor.

It has the logo of a cake.

He opens it without a second thought, tiredness clouding his mind, dismissing any concerns of a bomb.

Inside, there’s a small strawberry cake decorated with snowmen and a Christmas tree, and by its side, a small ice cream carton labeled as vanilla flavor.

The note inside the box reads:

—Figured you haven’t ordered something yet.

Considering he had only ever told Himiko Toga he likes strawberries, he guesses it hadn’t been sent by the kids.

*

The next time he meets Dabi is completely by accident. 

Hawks is at the mall, where he had gone to attempt to buy a few christmas gifts. He half fails because he can’t come up with anything Hakamada would like that isn’t denim. At least Mirko had been easier this year, considering now he had the correct shade of her winter foundation. 

He is looking at some shiseido hair oils when a voice comes from behind. 

“Hawks-san.”

He turns, startled, to find Natsuo Todoroki standing there with his girlfriend, and behind them, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, is Dabi.

“What a coincidence,” Natsuo says, smiling warmly.

Hawks nods. “Dabi, Natsuo-kun, and Natsuo’s girlfriend… whose name I don’t know.”

“Hey,” Dabi grumbles with irritation in his voice, though Hawks can’t fathom what he’s done to provoke it this time.

“I'm Tsukishima Aiko. Nice to meet you.” The girl squeaks, probably a part of her animal quirk. “Sorry.” Her voice barely above a whisper. She seems nervous—unsurprising, given Hawks’ history with flustered fans during his field hero days. The fangirls had been most of his fanbase after all. Though without his signature red wings and dressed in casual clothes, he’s less likely to draw attention these days.

“Don’t mind me. I used to chirp when nervous too. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tsukishima-san.” 

“She is not nervous,” Natsuo corrects, almost apologetic. “She’s just stressed.” 

“I’m sure Hawks–san can understand, if he had to help two indecisive men to buy gifts for the past two hours.” She says.

Hawks smirks. “What a coincidence. I’m on a shopping spree myself.”

“Kill me,” Dabi says, almost in pain. “Just kill me.” 

“He’s being dramatic,” Aiko shoots him a pointed look. “And it’s partially his fault we’re taking so long!”

“I’m not giving my mother some stupid face cream,” Dabi snaps.

“Hey! I bought her that!” Natsuo shoots back.

“And now I can’t buy her the same thing, can I?”

“Do you even have money?” Hawks interjects, amused.

Dabi shoots him a half-annoyed, half-defeated look. “I’m freelancing.”

“He works in my uncle’s shop melting metal,” Aiko explains. Dabi doesn't seem to mind that she's talking for him. He’s glad the other is actually trying to reintegrate to society, even if he was forced by his family or his own desire.

“It’s all under the cover though,” Natsuo add. “For now, he’s still legally dead. Touya-nii’s papers will be ready in february.”

“Ah.” You would think the governmental institutes would approve the papers faster considering Dabi’s history with the law. 

Aiko, likely trying to steer the conversation away from Dabi, turns to Hawks. “Are you buying something for your girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” Hawks replies quickly, waving a hand. “No girlfriend. This is for my intern’s feathers.”

“You used to use that too.” Dabi flashes a look at him, staring tiredly. 

The comment is so casual it shouldn’t matter.

“Ha ha, you remember that?” Hawks forces a laugh but his stomach twists. No matter how much he tries to hide it with a charming smile, it still makes him put his guard up.

Dabi’s eyes get bigger, less tired. He notices he hits a nerve but doesn’t comment on it. 

Birds clean themselves with preeing, that much Hawks thought it was obvious for any bird-like quirk. However, what most people ignore is that preeing isn’t enough to keep the feathers of a bird healthy and clean. The most essential factor of preening comes from a special gland at the base of their tail, which secretes an oil that is vital for preventing brittle feathers.

Hawks used to have that gland, until he had to take out his tail feathers. He also used to have feathers to take care of.

“What are you planning on buying Rei?” He asks in an attempt to get away from the spotlight. 

“Touya-nii thought of some hair mask. But he can’t find any he likes. I think mom would like anything he gives her.” 

“Shiseido is really good. I've bought all of mine here.” Hawks offers, gesturing to the shelf.

Dabi drives his gaze away to shelves, then back to Hawks, looking at his hair. “Camomille?” 

Hawks blinks, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. That one.” 

“Huh.” Dabi leaves the group to go deep in the store. “I think mom would like jasmine more.”

After a few minutes they both end up in the payment line. At first the cashier goes pale when she sees him, then she sees Dabi right behind and it gets worse. 

Hawks snorts when they leave the line.

“They are so annoying,” Dabi murmurs. 

“Welcome to my world.” 

When they are out of the store they catch Natsuo and his girlfriend kissing on a couch, right in the middle of a waiting space. 

“Welcome to my world.” Dabi whispers in his ear. His body almost pressed to his back. 

“Wait till Shouto grows up,” Hawks jokes weakly, trying to brush off the sudden intensity.

Dabi groans. “At least he has propriety. I think.”

“Maybe if you got a girlfriend, you wouldn’t judge your little bro so hard,” Hawks teases, though he knows it’s a risky move.

Dabi gives him a sharp look. “A girlfriend? Nah, not really my style.”

Hawks chuckles. “Not really your… oh .” They stare at each other, and suddenly a new piece of information burns into his brain. “Alright then.” 

“Let’s get out of here.” He says, and Hawks needs a second to translate that as in ‘I’m going home’ and not some American move. 

“You’re not gonna…” Hawks gestures at the lovebirds still canoodling on the couch.

“Nah. They need a break from me anyway. I just want to sleep.”

“Want a ride?” Hawks offers, noticing how pale Dabi looks, like he’s on the verge of collapsing. 

“Whatever.” Although with Dabi is never really ‘whatever’. 

The car ride is quiet. Dabi stares out the window, his gaze distant, eyes half-lidded as though he’s caught between exhaustion and some faraway thought. Hawks sneaks glances at him every so often, trying to piece together what’s going on in that complicated head of his.

There’s something about the quiet—the absence of Dabi’s usual sharp remarks—that feels unnerving. Hawks adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, the faint sound of the engine filling the silence.

“You okay?” Hawks asks softly, breaking the silence.

Dabi doesn’t respond at first, just shifts slightly against the seat. Finally, he lets out a faint “Mm.”

“You sure?” Hawks presses, his voice gentler this time.

Dabi blinks slowly, as if dragging himself back to the present. “I'm on pills,” he mutters, his tone flat but with an edge of weariness that Hawks isn’t used to hearing.

“Got it,” Hawks says, a part of him knowing he didn’t tell his younger siblings about it. He eases up on the gas, his instincts telling him to tread lightly.

They drive in silence for another stretch, the city lights flickering past the windows in a rhythmic blur. Dabi’s head tilts slightly, his posture slackening. For a moment, Hawks wonders if he’s fallen asleep.

Then, without warning, he feels a hand on his shoulder. Dabi’s touch is light but deliberate, his fingers curling just enough to catch Hawks’ attention.

“Don’t go so fast,” Dabi says, his voice low and unsteady. “I get motion sickness.”

Hawks glances over, his brows furrowing. “Do not throw up in my car,” he warns, but his tone is more teasing than stern.

Dabi chuckles weakly and lets his hand linger for a beat longer before pulling it back. “Spinner used to say the same thing, although the cars were never his.” Hawks keeps his focus on the road, but he feels the ghost of that touch, warm and grounding.

“You want me to pull over?” Hawks asks after a moment.

“No,” Dabi says quietly, leaning his head against the window. “Just… slower.”

Hawks obliges, easing the car into a steadier pace. The silence returns, but it feels different now—less oppressive, more like a fragile truce.

“You don’t look great,” Hawks says after a while, his voice casual but edged with concern.

“Gee, thanks. And here I was thinking I was winning your eye.” Dabi mutters, his lips twitching into what might’ve been a smirk if he wasn’t so tired. 

“I mean it. You sure you’re okay?”

Dabi’s eyes flick to him, sharp despite the fatigue weighing him down. For a moment, it looks like he’s about to snap back with one of his usual biting remarks, but he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales, the sound heavy inside the quiet of the car. 

“I’m tired, birdbrain,” he says, leaning his head back against the seat. “I’m just really tired. That answers your question?”

Hawks lets out a quiet laugh, more out of relief than amusement. “Yeah. Guess it does.”

They lapse into another stretch of quiet, but this time Hawks doesn’t mind.

As they near the Todoroki household, Hawks risks another glance at Dabi. He’s slouched against the seat, his eyes closed now, his face relaxed in a way that makes him look younger, softer.

Hawks feels a tug in his chest, something warm and unwelcome that he quickly brushes off. He looks back at the road, clearing his throat.

“We’re almost there,” he says softly, not wanting to startle Dabi.

“Good,” Dabi murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Hawks pulls into the driveway, cutting the engine. For a moment, he hesitates, unsure if he should wake Dabi or let him sleep. Before he can decide, the other stirs, blinking sluggishly.

“Thanks,” Dabi mumbles, his voice hoarse but sincere.

Hawks blinks, caught off guard. “For what?”

“For not being a pain in the ass. For once,” he mutters, his lips turning into the faintest of smirks. His whole attitude looks a lot like he is high, which is probably how he’s feeling. 

Hawks chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it.”

Dabi pushes the door open, stepping out into the cold air. He pauses, one hand on the car door, and looks back at Hawks. Their eyes meet, and for a split second, Hawks is unsure whether he should go or stay. If anything to make sure he gets into his house. 

“Drive safe,” Dabi says, his voice uncharacteristically soft, a tone Hawks has never quite heard before, despite all their interactions. It feels like an invitation to trust, and Hawks catches himself for a moment, blinking as if to process its warmth.

“Right.” Hawks nods, his fingers brushing against the steering wheel as he starts the car. But before he can drive off, he catches a glimpse of Rei’s worried face as it peeks out from the door of the house. Her expression is filled with concern, and in that instant, something clicks in Hawks’ mind: he has to stay, if anything, to make sure they both will be okay.

“Hi, mom,” Dabi greets her, voice a mixture of affection and laziness.

“Oh, Touya,” Rei exclaims, rushing toward him with an urgency that is unmistakable. Her hands immediately reach out to touch his face, the motion tender but frantic. “I told you to stay home today. Natsuo called, said he couldn’t find you, and mentioned Hawks was with you. I thought he’d be bringing you back. Thank goodness I was right.” She pulls him close, examining his face as though searching for signs of injury or distress.

“It was nothing.” He says. 

“It’s nothing.” Dabi shrugs, brushing off her concern with a quiet murmur, his eyes darting away to avoid further scrutiny.

Rei doesn’t seem to hear him, though. “Come inside, both of you,” she insists, her voice firm, leading them toward the door with a sense of authority Hawks had barely seen in her.

“I told you I’m fine.” Dabi pulls back slightly, attempting to distance himself, though his tone is more fatigued than defiant.

“Obey your mother, Firebrand,” Hawks adds, his voice light, trying to lighten the mood. To his surprise, Dabi doesn’t fight back. He just lets Rei guide him into the house as Hawks follows behind.

Inside, the living room is cozy, warm with the faint scent of tea lingering in the air. Rei helps her son lower himself onto the couch, her hands gentle but practiced. Hawks observes, feeling oddly out of place but strangely invested. Dabi looks up at him with a sharp gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a smile. For a moment, he doesn’t look like the psycho figure Hawks had known. Instead, his features soften, his face taking on a resemblance to his mother—delicate, almost vulnerable, with eyes that seem to betray a sadness he hides so carefully beneath the layers of his burns.

Rei moves out of the room briefly, and when she returns, she holds a small teddy bear in her hands, its fur soft and plush. Dabi looks at him with a raised eyebrow, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. That’s when he realises his blown pupils, whatever med he’s on had already completely kicked in. 

“What? Never seen a grown man with a breathing bear before?” His voice is teasing, but the exhaustion beneath it’s extremely visible.

“Never seen an ex-S-rank villain with one,” Hawks says quietly, matching the teasing tone. Dabi’s face relaxes for a minute, and there’s something comforting in the absurdity of the moment—something humanizing in the contrast between Dabi’s past and this odd, tender scene where Touya looks so vulnerable. 

“Mm. I’m full of surprises.” Dabi’s eyes flutter as he shifts slightly, his breathing slowing as the teddy bear rises and falls in sync with his chest. “I thought you were gonna drive safe.” 

“I never liked driving anyway.” His tone matches Dabi’s.

“I know.” Dabi’s voice starts to fade. “You loved to fly. Sorry about burning them.”

Hawks’ catches his breath. Slowly, his eyelids begin to droop, his body surrendering to the warmth and the softness around him.

For a moment, he looks like just a tired man, resting in the quiet of the room.

Rei gently motions for Hawks to follow her. They move toward the kitchen, where two teacups are set out on the counter. Fruit sandwiches, carefully prepared by someone Hawks can only assume was Fuyumi, rest on a small plate beside them. The kitchen smells faintly of citrus, which is another contrast to Hawk’s own apartment. 

“I’m guessing some kind mental disorder, along with medication?” Hawks breaks the silence, his voice measured but full of concern.

“Borderline,” Rei says, her voice soft as she pours the tea, her hands steady despite the weight of her words. “And right now clonazepam. Dialectical therapy has been incredibly helpful. He’s improving steadily, but sometimes, he has these… episodes. The therapist says it’s normal, especially after situations that push him too far. He can’t always regulate his emotions, especially when he feels cornered. Although quirk-based therapists also had been helping a lot, so even though his episodes are rare now, doesn’t mean he feels them less intensely.”

“I’m guessing that happened today?” Hawks pushes his luck. 

“Mn. Part of his therapy is to have private conversations with his father, as an attempt to communicate, get to know each other. It works for both of them, but sometimes they reach a closed alley, and this happens.”

Hawks wouldn’t have thought that’s good for Dabi, or Endeavor for that matter, if only for the possibility of colossal damage. However, the fact both of them are willing to go through those conversations trying to get to know each other should be proof enough they care enough for the other. Damn, Dabi would have never existed if he never cared. 

“Did Natsuo know?” Hawks asks, his brow furrowing slightly. “I doubt he would’ve agreed to go out if he knew.”

“Touya doesn’t want his siblings involved in his healing process. He tells them some things, but most of it… he keeps to himself. He manages most of his life, especially his therapy, on his own terms,” Rei explains, her tone quiet. She sets a cup of tea in front of Hawks and takes a sip from her own.

“That’s ridiculous,” Hawks mutters, disbelief in his voice. The thought of Dabi going through this alone—keeping everything bottled up—frustrates him more than he expects.

“I know it’s difficult to believe considering his… past actions towards… us. But he’s very private about most of his emotions, especially with his siblings. Fuyumi is very much the same.” Rei says with a small, sad smile. She leans against the chair, her gaze distant, as if she’s seeing a version of her son that Hawks can’t quite grasp. 

“I would have thought she was more demonstrative with her emotions.” 

“Only the positive ones.” Rei says. “They’re a lot like Enji in that way, keeping their real feelings hidden. Fuyumi likes to show everything is fine, and that she’s fine. Touya is one of the few people who can see through it.”

“What you are telling me it’s not exactly… a good thing,” Hawks responds softly. His voice is low, careful, as if speaking too loudly might wake up Dabi and disrupt the fragile peace that’s settled in the house.

“Mn.” Rei nods thoughtfully, taking another sip of her tea. “I think so too. But he’s here. Alive. Breathing. Free. He’s come farther than I ever thought possible. Faster than I did also. It’s not perfect, but we’re making progress. That’s all I can hope for.”

Hawks considers her words for a long moment. He’s always had hope for people, either fix or broken. “Well, progress is always good,” he says quietly.

Rei lets out a soft laugh, the sound warm but tinged with exhaustion. “Everyone will be home soon. Why don’t you stay the night? Touya could use someone his age around. If you don’t mind, of course. Fridays are movie nights.”

Hawks almost laughs at the suggestion, at how effortlessly Rei is trying to force a friendship between them. But there’s something sincere about her, something in the way she’s trying to make him feel welcome, despite everything. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he’s not about to turn it down.

“I could do a movie night,” Hawks says, a small smile tugging at his lips, though his mind is still racing with thoughts about Dabi, his family, and the unexpected tenderness in which they all seemed to welcome him. 

Rei looks at him from her tea, with a seriousness that characterizes her. “I wanted to apologise. About your mother.” Hawks doesn’t respond, caught off guard. “I know you said she wasn’t around, but she was close in distance. Now, because of what you’ve done for Touya, she’s become even more unreachable.”

Hawks takes a moment to think on his next words.

“It’s fine, Rei.” He doesn't know what kind of expression he has, but she doesn't falter. “She sold me when I was six. Saw me a few times while I was growing up, only because I kept asking to. She stopped when I turned fifteen.” He smiles, only to let her know he doesn’t have any contempt towards his mother. “And the Commission did take care of me, so I don’t have it against her either. She did the best she could for her unwanted child to have a good life. So no need to apologise, even if she lived close she wouldn’t have reached out, and neither would I, to be quite honest.” 

Rei listens to his words, really listens, and reaches for his hand on the table. “Honey, you understand what Enji did to our children—to Shouto, correct? That’s public knowledge now.” Hawks nods, not liking how the conversation has turned. They could keep talking about Dabi, anything that isn’t him.

“I will not ask for details you do not wish to share by yourself, but if you were six, then they didn’t really take care of you.” Hawks stares at her stoic, serious, and graceful eyes. Her gaze is unperturbed by her words. 

“But they did.” He says softly, and he’s surprised by how much he sounds like a child. “I had good clothes, a nice bedroom, a healthy diet, and a good paid job by eighteen. They did take care of me.” 

“Sometimes the wrongs people do to us are unperceptible to the eye.”

Hawks swallows.

He doesn’t know why her words cut him so deep.

After half an hour of Rei asking him questions on his own personal life he can hardly avoid, Natsuo and his girlfriend finally come back. They seem a bit disappointed to be left behind, but they quickly recover from it when they hear Hawks is staying the night. 

Fuyumi comes back from her job shortly after. Hawks is waiting for little Shouto to come back too but he is told the youngest Todoroki is at a christmas party with class 3-A, so he won’t return until the next day. 

Hawks feels so out of place even though he agreed to stay, so he does his best to help Fuyumi and Rei make dinner. He fails tremendously, it’s not his fault they make mapo tofu with the soft indelible tofu.

To be fair it’s not like he knows how to cook. The commission had always handed him meals when he was growing up, and cooking classes weren't exactly part of his educational curriculum or hero training. 

There are other uses for a knife he knows though. 

“I’ll go bother Endeavor–san then.” He says. “Where’s he?” 

Rei tells him Endeavor has been on the garden’s corridor since after lunch. He doesn’t miss the way Fuyumi turns her head to look at her. So she also knows about Dabi’s and his father’s matches. 

He finds Endeavor in his wheelchair looking at the snow that covered the chaniwa garden. Musufatu’s winter had been awfully cold during the past few years, it seemed this wasn’t going to be the exception. 

“Hey.”

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to come find me,” Endeavor says without looking up.

“Aren’t you cold?” Hawks asks, noting the man’s dark jumper, woefully inadequate for the crisp night air.

“I’m using my quirk,” Endeavor replies after a pause. “After the war, I can only manage enough to keep myself warm. Anything stronger, and my scars… they hurt. The fire hurts me now.”

“Does your ego hurt, too?” Hawks teases, but his tone carries a soft edge.

“My heart does.” Endeavor gestures toward the chair beside him, and Hawks hesitates before sitting down. He wonders idly if Rei uses this seat often—or if this is where Dabi and his father exchange words during their fragile attempts at reconciliation. “I can't understand how he willingly put himself through worse.”

Hawks considers the irony of the man’s pain. Endeavor burning from his own flames feels like poetic justice, a karmic echo of what Dabi endured for years in far worse conditions.

“Thank you— for bringing him back home.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. Not again.”

“I do,” Endeavor insists. “You gave him a chance to heal. To be here with us. I owe you for that. I’ll always owe you for that.”

Hawks shrugs, trying to play it off. “I just did what I thought was right.”

He knows better than to push; Endeavor will tell him what happened with Dabi eventually. He has always needed some time to speak his mind in terms of any non-hero topic. 

“I think Dabi still exists.” He says eventually. 

Hawks doesn’t really know what to make of it. 

“Has he…” He stops himself, unwilling to voice the possibility that he might’ve made a mistake in advocating for Dabi’s rehabilitation.

“No.” The word comes out sharp, emphatic. Endeavor meets his gaze, and Hawks feels the tension in his chest ease. He gives him another moment so the man can put his thoughts into words. “I see Touya now,” Endeavor says, his voice calm. “In moments. When he’s laughing with Fuyumi, or bickering with Natsuo, or when he’s bickering with Shouto about what movie they’ll watch. But then there’s Dabi. I can still see him, too. It’s in the way Touya looks at me sometimes, like he’s still deciding if I’m worth something. Or if he should burn me for good.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, leaning forward slightly. “Is that why you’re sitting out here? You think he’s a threat?”

“No.” Endeavor shakes his head. “I know he won’t hurt anyone—not now. He’s working so hard in therapy, and I see how much he has advanced. But Dabi… I don’t think he’s gone. He’s still there, buried somewhere, and I don’t know if Touya even wants him gone.”

“Why would he be gone?” Hawks raises an eyebrow, his tone turning pragmatic. Somewhere inside he starts feeling a foreign sense of anger. “Endeavor–san, your son doesn’t have multiple personalities. Dabi isn’t someone separate. Think of him as a survival mechanism—Touya’s way of compartmentalizing all his negative emotions, of locking away whatever good ones he had left. Dabi was just a name. Now that he’s in rehabilitation, he doesn’t need to hide the ‘good’ or the ‘bad.’ He’s just… Touya. All of him.”

Endeavor looks down, his expression unreadable.

“What? Did you expect him to suddenly stop being moody or angry just because he’s on a better path now? He’s still human, Endeavor. Rehabilitation won’t erase his past. It’s just a way to learn how to live with it.”

The older man doesn’t respond immediately, the weight of Hawks’s words settling heavily over him.

“I think he misses being a villain,” Endeavor finally says, voice low. “He isn’t over the league.” 

“That’s your mistake. He had a whole year to turn into villainy again and actively chose not to.” Hawks lay against the chair as he closes his eyes. A sight coming out of his lips. “He’ll never get over it. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll stop losing sleep over it.” 

They sit quietly for another minute, the weight of their conversation hanging in the cold night air. Hawks finally breaks the silence with a low chuckle.

“I can’t believe you spent the whole afternoon working yourself up over this,” he says, shaking his head. “Here.”

Endeavor doesn’t respond right away, his gaze still fixed on the snow-dusted yard. After a moment, he murmurs, “I like the snow. It used to melt every time I was out.”

Hawks is about to tease him for the sudden sentimentality when Fuyumi screams that dinner is ready. 

Touya is already setting the table when Hawks gets to the door. The faint clink of plates against the wooden surface echoes softly. He watches the domesticity of the scene. It isn’t a unique sight, considering Hawks had seen him doing it before when he lived with the Meta Liberation Fort. Although he looks a lot more at ease here. 

“How so?” Fuyumi asks. Hawks missed half the conversation.

“He used to chirp, before he lost his quirk. It was kinda cute to be ho—” Dabi looks up and then freezes mid-step, his shoulders tensing as he realizes Hawks is there. “I thought you left, ” he mutters, turning just enough to glare. His voice carries the faintest note of surprise.

“I’ll leave in the morning.” Hawks replies, trying to ignore the fact that Dabi talks about him with his family. Or that he thought his chirps were cute. 

Dabi doesn’t say anything back. He just turns around and puts another plate on the table. 

Moments later, Natsuo and Aiko return from the boy’s room. Aiko is draped in Natsuo’s oversized jumper, while Natsuo sports a thin summer t-shirt that makes Hawks shiver just looking at him. 

“Is Rei not coming?” Endeavor asks. 

“Mom is eating out.” Fuyumi answers. And yet it had been Rei who asked him to stay. 

Even when everyone is sitting at the table and the food is already on their plates, he still watches Natsuo almost without blinking. 

“You’re staring,” Touya says dryly, glancing at Hawks over his shoulder.

“I feel a bit intimidated,” Natsuo quips, though the chuckle that escapes lightens the mood.

“Don’t worry, Hawks-san,” Aiko interjects with a warm smile. “I get cold too. It’s good to have another one around. My ears used to shrink during the first winter I spent with Natsuo.”

“Geez,” Hawks sighs, ruffling his hair. “My feathers used to make up for the cold. Tsk, tsk. Now no more.”

Aiko’s curiosity sharpens. “Did you have feathers anywhere else? We have a friend at uni with green ones around his eyes, so I’ve always wondered…”

Hawks needs a minute to analyse the situation. He can talk about his quirk with normality now, he already made peace with it. He just isn’t sure how much he can share about it, considering it had always been prohibited.

“I used to have some in my tail, but I had to take them out.” he admits, spearing a piece of tofu with his chopsticks. The heat scalds his tongue, but he swallows it quickly. “At least this is hot,” he adds, reaching for the tea.

Endeavor sets him a sharp look, although he makes no comments. Natsuo casts a wary glance at Aiko, and Dabi’s gaze sharpens as he looks at him, though he says nothing. Only Fuyumi and Aiko are visibly affected, their eyes wide with understanding.

“Oh, Hawks,” Fuyumi murmurs, her tone heavy with sympathy.

“I used to have whiskers too,” Aiko offers unexpectedly, her voice soft. She doesn’t elaborate, and nobody presses. “I loved my little whiskers.” She says softly. 

Suddenly Hawks reminiscences an old sense of melancholy. “I used to love my little feathers too.” 

Sensing the shift, Natsuo jumps in with a brighter topic, steering the conversation toward his latest A+ in anatomy and his thesis on mutant-quirks’ medical care and social status. Dabi and Fuyumi make occasional questions about it, understanding terms Hawks himself doesn't. It’s probably the first time he feels stupid. 

“You could conduct surveys on how many people with full mutant quirks have been denied medical procedures because the insurance marks them as plastic ones.” Dabi says casually after drinking some tea. “Or you could also compare them to the index of full, partial, and vague mutant looks and the type of jobs they have which defines their income and affects their insurance.” 

Natsuo takes out his phone and starts annotating quickly. 

Hawks just stare at Dabi in shock. 

“What?” He says. “Spinner talked a lot. Awfully a lot.” 

Hawks doesn’t miss the sharp look Endeavor gives his son.

As dinner winds down, Endeavor finally speaks. “The food was really good,” he says gruffly. “Enjoy the night.”

“I’m not backing down,” Dabi announces suddenly, his voice firm and unyielding. “Just so you know.”

Endeavor meets his gaze briefly before leaving without a word. Rei appears then, wearing a long winter dress and her hair updo. Apparently she would meet with some of the mothers of Shouto’s class.

“Are you coming home?” Natsuo asks inquisitively. 

“I’m staying at Mitsuki’s. Don’t burn the place down. Or glacier it up, for that matter.” She warns. 

Left to clean up as the rest go prepare the living room, Hawks and Dabi work in silence. The clatter of dishes and the hiss of running water fill the room. As Rei’s laughter fades in the distance, Hawks watches her through the window as she gets into the car with a smile.

“She looks more… content,” he notes, drying a plate.

“We basically had to force her to start doing other things none Todoroki-chaos related,” Dabi replies, his tone casual but laced with pride. “Aiko–san helped a lot.”

“How did Aiko–san even happen?” Hawks asks, curiosity piqued. “I thought little Natsuo-kun wanted her far far away from Endeavor, and now they’re eating at the same table?”

Dabi hands him the last plate, his soaked hands steaming as he dries them with his quirk. “I can’t leave this house,” he says after a pause. “Not yet, anyway. Not until my papers are ready. Fuck, I don’t even know if after that I will. For the first few months out of psych, I didn’t even know if I’d stay out.”

“What does that have to do with—”

“Because he wants me in his life,” Dabi cuts, meeting Hawks’s gaze briefly before looking away. “And I live here. As long as I stay, my mother stays, and Natsuo comes back. They have… an agreement, I think. Endeavor doesn’t talk to her unless she starts it.”

“So… they ignore him?” 

“Well… yeah,” Dabi shrugs. “Sometimes she talks to him, though. Natsuo would never prohibit her from doing anything, so she basically does whatever the hell she wants.” His lips twitch into a faint smirk. “I approve.”

Hawks watches him carefully, noting the flicker of something darker in Dabi’s expression. “You must miss having that kind of freedom,” he says, his tone gentle but probing, because apparently he misses walking on death’s edge.

Dabi stiffens, smirk still in place. For a moment, the room feels warmer, the faint hum of the house amplifying the silence between them. Then, slowly, he steps closer, his movements deliberate. The faint steam still rising from his hands feels like a warning—he may look calm, but there’s heat simmering just beneath the surface. Hawks meets his gaze, if only to check that Dabi is better. His pupils look fine, and he doesn’t seem high anymore. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, little bird,” Dabi says, his voice low, almost a growl. His eyes meet Hawks’, glinting with defiance. Almost like a challenge. “I always do whatever the hell I want.” He murmurs centimeters away from his face.

Hawks doesn’t back away, though his pulse quickens. He holds Dabi’s gaze, searching for any trace of the chaos he once embodied. But the eyes staring back at him are sharp and steady, the same fire but more controlled. It’s unnerving in its own way, this balance Dabi seems to have found. 

“You always were reckless,” Hawks murmurs, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “But now you’re different. It’s weird.”

Dabi’s mouth curls into a slow grin, the tension intensifying with a warmth that Hawks’ body welcomes. “Am I?” he asks, his voice mocking. He steps closer, the space between them shrinking until Hawks can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. 

Hawks swallows, the steady drumbeat of his heart filling his ears. He suddenly gets the urge to move, to act, to escape the intensity of Dabi’s presence. And yet, he stays rooted, drawn in by the very heat that should have sent him running. 

He, of all people, knows how dangerous Dabi’s heat is. 

“Mh,” Hawks hums softly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes dart down to Dabi’s lips, just for a moment, before meeting his gaze again. 

Just then, he realises that the tension he had always felt around Dabi is desire. 

It can’t be. But it is. The way he keeps looking at his lips gives him away. 

He must be crazy. He feels crazy. Hawks slowly reaches for Dabi’s hand, holding it in the middle of their chests, his finger brushing his palm. “If you are this hot then why am I drying the plates?” 

The other chuckles, then murmurs. “Because ceramic breaks with heat.” 

Hawks see Dabi’s lips parting for a second, but then—

“Are you done here? We’re—” Aiko enters the room, she looks suddenly lost, and then a mock appears in her face as she tries to hide her grin. “—choosing the movie. If you still care about that.”

“We are going, Aiko.” Dabi says annoyed before she leaves.

Hawks takes a step away, pointing at the door. “We better…”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Hawks–san!” Fuyumi calls when they step into the living room. “I took this from Touya-nii’s room. I figured you’ll be cold, I hope it’s your size so you can wear it tonight!”

Hawks hears Aiko snorting. “Oh he’ll wear it.” She says mockingly. “It’s too cold tonight for him to sleep all alone.” 

“We can’t decide if we should watch human movies or animation. Is there anything you like?” Natsuo says, ignoring his girlfriend’s quick response and Dabi’s sharp glance.

“If you choose Frozen I’ll kick you out,” Dabi says, settling himself in the middle of the living room floor, where futons and blankets are displayed, and completely ignoring Hawks’ company. They have a momentary quiet understanding that whatever happened did not happen. Hawks will ignore it until he is alone in his apartment and have the time to scream into his pillow. “For one Friday that I got rid of Shouto’s nuanced obsession with that movie.” 

“I wouldn’t know what to pick. I don’t watch movies.” This is, once again, the wrong thing to say.

“Never?” Natsuo frowns. “Not even Disney?” 

“I wasn’t allowed.” Hawks catches Dabi dropping his head between his knees, letting out an ‘argh’ in frustration. Fuyumi and Natsuo share a wary look, but Aiko completely ignores the comment.

“Put on a damn Disney movie.” Dabi says, defeated. “Not Frozen though. Put on some—classic shit. Dunno, a princess one.” 

Aiko, who holds the remote to the tv now, suddenly lights up and says, “we could watch the mermaid one!” 

“There’s a mermaid princess?”

He hears Dabi’s snort. “I have a feeling you’re gonna like this one.” 

Hawks ends up wrapped as a burrito in the middle of the living room, trying to ignore the smell of Dabi and the feeling in his chest when the mermaid princess finally gets her freedom. 

After the movie, the house has settled into a calm hush. Blankets are scattered, the faint glow of the television casting shadows on the walls. Hawks stretches, glancing at Dabi, who sits beside him, arms crossed but relaxed.

“We don’t have air conditioning or a heater,” Dabi says, breaking the silence.

“Figured,” Hawks replies, his voice barely above a murmur. He isn’t particularly cross about it, considering he is now wearing a jumper that doesn’t smell like him.  

“C’mere.” Dabi gestures vaguely, his tone as casual as if he were offering a spare pillow. “Or freeze. Your pick.”

Hawks hesitates for a moment. The cold must be freezing and killing his functional neurons. Whatever, he’ll judge his choices in the morning. 

He shuffles closer, the blanket dragged behind him. “They might wake up,” he whispers, eyeing the others sprawled out around the room. Fallen soldiers that fell asleep before the movie ended. 

Dabi snorts. “We grew up with Endeavor. They’re not waking up.” He gestures toward the faint sound of Endeavor’s snoring that had gone muffled by the movie.

“Oh god,” Hawks stifles a laugh. “It’s like a monster truck.” 

Dabi’s lips twitch into a smirk, then points to Fuyumi, who is also quietly snoring by the coffee table. “It’s contagious.” 

If he had guessed who snored from the Todoroki children, he was definitely rutting for Natsuo, hell, even Dabi. Fuyumi is a weird surprise. Although he supposes the exhaustion of dealing with twenty children every day must send her into a well deserved dream. 

“Fine,” Hawks half smiles. “But do not burn me again.” It’ll be fine, he tries to convince himself. He’ll acknowledge the feeling in his gut later. Whatever happens will be left to process by the next day. 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Hawks slides closer until they’re pressed together, his head resting lightly on Dabi’s shoulder. The warmth is immediate, soothing, and strangely grounding.

He doesn’t know if it’s Dabi’s natural warmth or his quirk. 

The heat makes him exhale loudly, it’s a nice contrast with the coldness he’s been feeling all winter. 

Hawks shifts closer “Didn’t realize you were such a giver,” he says, his voice light but edged with curiosity. He still wants to check how far he can stretch his luck.

“Don’t get used to it,” Dabi mutters. His eyes glint in the faint light of the TV that has started to change in color depending on the movies it recommended. “You’ll just start expecting things.”

Hawks chuckles, low and soft, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that. You’re too fragile for emotional investment.”

“Careful,” Dabi says, his voice dropping just a touch. There’s no real threat in it, but it’s enough to make Hawks glance his way.

He catches the faintest flicker of something—bemusement, maybe, or a challenge. It’s hard to tell with Dabi, whose expressions are always half-hidden behind layers of indifference.

“You’re the one who told me to come closer,” Hawks points out, raising an eyebrow.

Dabi shrugs, a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Figured you’d freeze otherwise. Can’t have a war hero dead by frost in the morning. Doubt that’d go well with my record. Plus I can’t have you whining and shivering all night.”

There’s a pause, a moment where Hawks considers his next words. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “You think I whine?”

“Fuck— Dunno, you look like the type,” Dabi says, smirking fully now. “Bet you even make those noises too—what are they called? Whimpers?”

Hawks stares at him, momentarily stunned. There’s a faint feeling of a bulge under him, but the thought of Dabi being hard is left to think about tomorrow, along with all the questionable actions he has neglected all night. “You’ve really thought this through, huh? Should I be worried about how much time you spend imagining my compromising sounds?”

“It’s not my fault you fit the stereotype,” Dabi replies, his tone casual but his gaze intent. “I had a lot of free time after the war.” 

Hawks stops laughing, he tilts his head up slightly, meeting Dabi’s gaze, studying him for a beat longer than necessary. Dabi’s face is neutral, betraying little emotions, but if he were to look at his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—he can easily realise he’s far more expressionist than he first guest. The grace and softness of his features are clearly hereditary from his mother, while his closed and irritable personality are partially Endeavor's and partially his own. He’s also too smart, his eyes analyzing every detail of his surroundings, and in that way he’s too much like Hawks. Hell, the whole afternoon had felt like an old game of chest, both checking how far they can go before the other calls it off. 

Hawks doesn’t know what he’s doing. Should he do it? Or is it on his head? Is Dabi actually looking at his lips, or is he imagining things?

“You’re too cold,” Dabi says gruffly.

Hawks huffs a quiet laugh, burying his face in the crook of Dabi’s neck to avoid his own sleep taking over his decisions. “And you’re too warm,” he murmurs against his skin.

“Guess we’re stuck like this, then,” Dabi mutters, his tone softer now, almost teasing.

“Guess so,” Hawks replies, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile as he closes his eyes and lets himself melt into the heat that, for once, doesn’t burn.

“Is this a good moment to say not all of us here are heavy sleepers?” Aiko’s voice comes out by Natsuo’s side, where she remains completely hidden by his big body. “Just for you to know.” 

“Oh god,” Hawks says just as Dabi joins him with a “crap.” 

*

The next morning, Aiko is smirking before she announces she and Natsuo are going back to her place—thankfully she doesn’t comment on whatever might or might not have happened during the night. 

In the end it’s just Hawks, Fuyumi, Dabi and Endeavor on the table. 

“Hawks–san,” Fuyumi calls him. “Will you be free during the 24th? Mom and I talked the other day, if your program finishes before then you could totally come spend Christmas with us! You can even replace me at Mario ‘cause I always lose!” 

“I won’t be here on christmas.” Dabi suddenly says, unapologetic. “I’ll be back by dinner though.” 

“What?!” Fuyumi exclaims. “Where could you possibly be?! Libraries are closed!” 

“I’ll spend the 24th in Tartarus.” His voice cuts like a knife, and he shoots an icy look at Endeavor, whose expression immediately hardens with annoyance.

And so, the last piece of the puzzle falls into place.

“Still with that nonsense?!” Endeavor snaps, his frustration barely masked. “After everything you’ve worked so hard for—after everything this family has been through—”

“Hey, Hawks is still here—” Fuyumi interjects, her voice tinged with worry as she tries to diffuse the tension.

“Don’t give me that crap!” Dabi’s voice suddenly spikes, raw and trembling with anger as he jabs a finger toward Endeavor. He’s abandoned his calm facade entirely, sounding more like the Dabi Hawks remembers from before the trial. “You were the one who put this family through hell first! You were the shitty piece of scum first, and everything this family’s been through is entirely your fault! I’m going to spend Christmas in Tartarus—with Atsuhiro and Iguchi. I’ll give them the gifts I bought with my money, and I’ll stay there for every second of visiting hours they allow me. And if you don’t like it—” His voice cracks, and his words lurch forward, harsh and uneven. “Then you can throw me in a cell right next to theirs for all I care.”

Dabi’s tone is completely unhinged—an erratic mix of fury, defiance, and something painfully vulnerable buried beneath it all.

“Are you done?” Endeavor asks, his voice cold and restrained, though his jaw tightens visibly.

“No.” Dabi’s voice drops, low and rough, and the weight of his stare is suffocating. His eyes burn with pure hatred, but his hands tremble faintly at his sides. Hawks notices it, a glimpse of the cracks in his armor. The meaning behind Endeavor’s words from the day before suddenly becomes crystal clear.

Dabi exhales shakily, the tension in his shoulders only growing tighter. “Now I am.”

“Breakfast was good, Fuyumi,” Endeavor says, his voice suddenly calm towards her. “Thank you.” Then he leaves without a word.

Hawks would’ve thought Endeavor would give him the courtesy of an apology, or a goodbye, but it’s Fuyumi who lets out a sigh before apologising to him.

“Don’t mind me.” Hawks says. “I’ve worked with both of them.”

“I know dad can be—”

“Oh my god, stop defending him!” Dabi accuses, now his tone also back to normality. 

“I’m not defending—”

“You always do this shit—”

“I’m sorry, Fuyumi–san,” Hawks cuts in, not wanting to be involved in more family drama, “but I also made plans to visit Tartarus on the 24th.” 

Fuyumi looks at him surprised as Dabi shoots him an inquisitive look. “Nagant?” He asks. 

“Mh. Since visiting hours are vastly extended she’ll have time to try on the gifts I bought her. Maybe I can finally convince her to accept parole.” 

“Did you get her a gun or something?” Dabi jokes, finishing the miso soup.

“Some books, actually. And summer dresses.” 

“Ow Hawks, are you dating her?” Fuyumi chimes in, sparkles in her eyes. 

Dabi snorts. “Right. Because she would date this one.”

“Hey!” If anything should be the other way around. “I’m single. Not particularly interested in women either.” He says to Fuyumi, and to Dabi too, if he needs clarification.

“Oh, what a coincidence,” Fuyumi smiles in mockery, looking a hell lot like Dabi without scars. “Neither is Touya–nii.” 

Dabi almost chokes on the miso soup, a slight blush creeping around the scars under his eyes. “How would you know that?”

“You chose golden staples because it matched your colorimetry.” Fuyumi says accusely. “You are gay. ”

“Did my daughter send you?” Endeavor’s voice is low, almost accusing, as he stares across the corridor.

Hawks doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, his ever-present smirk absent for once. “Endeavor-san, are you aware of your son’s mental illness?”

The question hangs in the air like the snow drifting outside, untouched and heavy. They’re sitting in the same spot as the day before, and even the snow looks the same, exceeding in grace. Endeavor stiffens, his eyes narrowing as he fixes Hawks with a sharp glare.

“Why would you ask me that?” Endeavor’s tone is defensive, but there’s an undercurrent of unease, as though Hawks has struck a nerve. He obviously does know his diagnosis. 

“You know your son has BPD,” Hawks continues, his voice calm but deliberate. “This isn’t him turning into a villain again. This is him having an episode because his father doesn’t seem to understand why the League was important to him.”

Endeavor’s jaw tightens, and he exhales sharply through his nose. “With all due respect, Hawks, I don’t think this is any of your business.”

He leans against the chair, just like the day before. His gaze doesn’t waver, sharp as a hawk’s. He’s always treated Endeavor the same, from all the heroes that have worked alongside the man, he is probably the one of the few that hadn’t been afraid to tell him the truth to his face. “Probably not,” he says, shrugging lightly. “But I don’t care.”

Endeavor’s eyes flash, but Hawks cuts him off before he can retort. “I don’t care because if you don’t figure this out, things are just gonna keep getting worse. Unlike you, Dabi—no. Touya—your son—looks at Sako-san and Iguchi-san as more than just criminals. To him, they’re his friends, hell, I’m guessing he was all alone until he met them. Try at least to understand that.”

The words hit harder than Hawks intended, and for a moment, the tension between them is palpable. Endeavor’s gaze shifts, conflicted. The furrow in his brow deepens as he looks down at the snow. 

Hawks presses on. “You’ll never fully understand your son unless you sink in what he truly went through, not just physically. And until you do, he’s always going to look at you like you’re his enemy.”

Endeavor doesn’t respond immediately. His only hand tightens into a fist, and his eyes drift to the sky. Finally, he exhales, his breath fogging in the cold air of the garden.

“I don’t know how,” Endeavor admits, his voice low and almost inaudible. It’s not a surrender, but it’s the closest Hawks has ever seen to the man letting his walls down.

Hawks leans back in his chair, folding his arms with a small sigh. “Then start by asking,” he says simply. “That’s all he really wants, you know. For you to ask—not to assume, not to control. Just ask. He’s changed, I’ve seen it. If you ask genuinely then he’ll answer.”

Hawks looks back at Endeavor, and because he can’t seem to shut his mouth, he says, “In the press conference after Dabi’s trial, I said I believe in reintegration, I did not say that as a gift to your family’s reputation. I do believe in reintegration, and that extends to all criminals.”

“Hawks,” Endeavor looks at him with a sadness that it’s uncharacteristic directed towards him. “You haven’t changed one bit, have you? Despite everything you remain kind.” He feels like throwing up. “Whatever they ask from you, just remain kind.” 

After he slinks back to the living room, Hawks finds himself trapped yet again with Dabi and Fuyumi. He should’ve left hours ago—hours—but somehow, he’s still here, procrastinating his escape.

Dabi slouch comfortably on the couch, one leg crossed loosely over the other at the knee, his body angles slightly toward Fuyumi. She is seated upright and composed by his side, leaning slightly toward him, and her expression calm and focused, trying to bridge the subtle distance his relaxed attitude creates. The air between them is light in the silence, their contrasting postures reflecting the delicate balance of familiarity and tension that only siblings could share.

“Remember when we were little and played teoshi zumo on ice blocks?” Fuyumi asks, her voice low, the edges of her mouth curling into a soft smile.

Dabi soft chuckles. “You’d always lose.” 

“Let's go back to that.” She says softly. 

Hawks, perched awkwardly in the corner, visibly suppress a grimace. It’s clear he’s intruding, his discomfort bordering on tragic. He opens his mouth to excuse himself at last, when the door creaks open, revealing Shouto.

Fuyumi and Dabi’s heads snap toward their youngest sibling in perfect unison, a move so synchronized it’s lowkey creepy.

“Hawks-san,” Shouto greets flatly, his voice carrying a hoarse edge that raises more questions than answers. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah kid, no worries. I was about to leave actually.” He doesn’t miss the way Dabi glances his way only to rapidly change it over Shouto. 

“Did you have fun last night?” Fuyumi asks, her tone far too casual to be innocent.

“Mn.” Shouto shifts uncomfortably, already angling toward the stairs. “I’m going to my room now.”

But before he could retreat, Dabi sits up like a predator locking onto prey. He’s off the couch in a second, closing the distance between him and Shouto in a blink.

He grabs Shouto by the chin, tilting his head with mock tenderness as he smirks before snapping his fingers “You got drunk.”

Hawks can’t suppress the snort that escapes him.

“Shouto!” Fuyumi scolds, though her tone is caught somewhere between shock and amusement.

“Piss off,” Shouto growls, smacking Dabi’s hand away with an unfriendly look. “I did not.”

“Did too,” Dabi retorts with a laugh, the word laced with pure delight. As Shouto brushes past him, Dabi tosses a smug half-smile his way. Hawks doesn’t miss the faint scent of booze trailing behind the younger Todoroki.

That’s Hawks’ cue. Using the distraction as his escape route, he finally excludes himself from the chaos and heads to his apartment. But as he unlocks his car door, he feels it—that unmistakable sensation of being watched. He glances back and catches Dabi staring through the kitchen window, and the memories of the night before flood back in vivid detail.

It isn’t until Hawks is home, flopping onto his own couch with a muffled scream into a pillow, that he notices it.

He’s still wearing Dabi’s jumper.

*

Two days before his scheduled departure for Niigata, Mirko ropes him into attending a charity event. Although she doesn’t really ask; she just calls and tells him when to meet her, leaving no room for negotiation. He doesn’t mind, though. It’s not like he has much else on his plate.

The event takes place at Central Hospital, specifically the pediatric cancer wing, which takes half the space of the cancer floor. As they step into the brightly decorated hall, a nurse greets them with a warm smile, handing over some items that avoid germs contamination. They go through each room, signing photos and taking a little time to talk to them and encourage them to keep ‘fighting it like heroes’. 

One of the most horrid things about cancer and other diseases in the era they are living is that, even though medicine is extremely advanced, if you have it and never notice it, it’s most likely it will get to the point where medicine can’t treat it completely. 

That’s also why children having cancer is much more devastating. 

Mirko takes to the event like she was born for it. She kneels to meet the kids at eye level, her infectious energy lighting up the room. They laugh at her jokes and marvel at the bunny ears she lets them tug on. She poses for pictures with the little ones, taking her metal arms off when she meets a boy whose arms are also amputated. 

Hawks watches her from a distance, more concerned about her reaction than anything else, although he knows she is not about to crumble in emotions. Hawks is more reserved in his approach, he gossip with the adolescents, and tells stories about Christmas to the kids, he signs autographs and ruffles a few heads of hair, but it’s clear who the star of the show is. Mirko radiates warmth and confidence, her usual fiery demeanor tempered by a gentleness he rarely sees. When he lost his wings, children’s sparkling eyes got a bit lost too. But that’s okay, he doesn’t mind handing the spotlight to Mirko. 

He’s always thought of her as someone who thrived on chaos—an adrenaline junkie who couldn’t sit still for five minutes. She lived for the thrill of the chase, the rush of the fight. Yet here she is, cradling a frail little girl with a bald head and an IV drip, her expression soft and serene.

The little girl whispers something to her, and she laughs—a light, airy sound that makes Hawks’ chest ache for reasons buried deep down his brain.

Maybe she’d want this someday, he thinks. 

Not the cancer. Nobody wants that shit. But a family. A quieter life. 

He shakes his head, dismissing the thought. It’s not like he will ask, it’s all pure speculation on his part. 

The event winds down as the sun sets outside, painting the hospital’s frosted windows in hues of orange and pink. They step into an On-call room where they can change back to their civilian clothes. Hawks tucks his hands into his coat pockets, while Mirko stretches, her ears twitching slightly as she exhales. She doesn’t appear to have much phantom limb lately. 

“You know,” she murmurs, breaking the comfortable silence, “if you don’t have anything to do on Christmas, we could always go to a temple together.”

Hawks raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Don’t you already have a date with Fukukado-san? Or did she bail on you?”

Mirko snorts. “I could reschedule…”

Her tone is casual, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in her voice.

“Rumi…” Hawks chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Don’t. I’ll be fine. Go to your date, have some fun. You deserve it.”

Mirko stops mid-step, turning to face him. Her red eyes pierce through him, a mixture of concern and stubbornness.

“So do you,” she says firmly.

“Rumi—”

“No, seriously,” she interrupts. “You’re the one who’s always preaching about heroes needing to take time for themselves, remember? ‘Do stuff they like,’ or whatever. When are you gonna start taking your own advice?”

Hawks opens his mouth to respond but finds he doesn’t have an answer. Instead, he shrugs, a lopsided grin playing on his lips. “Maybe next year.”

“I don’t really like that answer.” She murmurs, putting her arms back on. 

They leave the pediatric wing together, although Rumi is late for something Hawks doesn’t quite catch because a nurse caught them and asked for pictures. In the end, the psycho of his friend leaves the hospital by jumping through the window. 

Eccentric, but not unfamiliar. 

The sterile scent of the hospital presses in around him as he takes the long way back—the only rute he’s allowed to take now. Wandering down the corridor, he lets his mind drift until he finds himself in front of the elevator. He reaches for the button, his hand brushing against someone else’s.

It would’ve been fine. Until he sees the burnt skin at the back of the hand adorned with golden jewelry. 

“Dabi,” Hawks blurts out in surprise.

“Observant as ever, Sherlock,” Dabi replies, his tone as dry as winter air. He’s wearing a hoodie that swallows his frame, the hood pulled low over his face. It’s almost laughable how conspicuous he looks, like someone trying too hard to not be recognized that ends up looking too suspicious. Maybe it’s an old habit. “For the record,” Dabi drawls, “I already had an appointment. You’re the one who keeps orbiting around me.”

“It’s not like I knew you’d be here!” Hawks retorts, suddenly lowering his voice to match the other.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. They step inside, the space suddenly feeling much too small. Hawks press the button for the parking lot while Dabi presses the one for the ground floor. As the doors close, he feels Dabi shift behind him.

“Could you not loom?” Hawks says over his shoulder, only half-joking. Dabi sneers, pulling his hood back. 

“I thought you were in Niigata by now.” Dabi tries to make small chat. Could the elevator go any slower? 

“Mn. On Monday. I’ll be back by Wednesday.” He says.

“And you’ll be in jail by Thursday,” Dabi jokes.

“Tsumi could decide to accept the deal before that,” Hawks says. “Sort of a Christmas miracle.” 

“Yeah right.” He snorts. “I don’t believe in that bullshit but sure.” 

Hawks doesn’t know what to say after that. The elevator is about to open and Dabi has moved in front of him. The words get out of his mouth before he processes them. 

“Heading home? Want a ride?” 

Dabi stops mid step and turns to look at him. Hawks notices the eyeliner on his eyelid right before the doors open and a bunch of people step inside. They get cornered in the back when someone in a wheelchair gets in. At least Dabi’s back blocks the sight of civilians, although it feels a bit claustrophobic to be cornered under the other’s body. 

“Sorry, maybe you had someone waiting for ya–” Hawks stops for a moment, the information of the past three minutes catching up in his brain. It can’t be. 

“It’s nothing.” Dabi murmurs. “I’ll tell him to leave. That man needs a break anyway.”

Hawks can’t think of the fact that the Todorokis have a family driver, not over the fact Dabi had taken the elevator at the same floor as him. He looks up and meets the other’s gaze, his own heartbeat fastening. 

Something on Hawks’ face must have given his realisation away. 

“You’re getting sloppy,” Dabi whispeprs with a grin. “Although I suppose you have no reasons to keep spying on me.”

They get into the car in silence, ignoring the murmurs of two boys who wonder if they are indeed Hawks and Dabi, and the scolds of a mother who rapidly asks them to get in the car. 

Hawks is looking at the handle in silence, not really knowing how to ask. 

“When skin gets repeatedly damaged or scarred,” Dabi says, his voice unnervingly calm, “it’s more vulnerable to developing abnormal cells over time. Like squamous cell carcinoma. Happens a lot with burn victims. Especially if the wounds don’t heal properly or get infected.” He pauses, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a bitter smile. “Had a few of those after I died.”

Hawks swallows hard. “So… you have—?”

Dabi leans in, dangerously close to his face, his voice dropping to a whisper that sends a shiver down Hawks’ spine. “Worried about me, are ya?”

Hawks could get into a lot of trouble with the commission if a picture of that moment were to be posted online. 

“Dabi…” he warns, his voice tight.

“It was just a consult. I don’t have shit,” Dabi says, pulling back into the passenger seat. “Guess I got lucky. For a burnt corpse like mine.”

Hawks exhales, tension easing from his shoulders. “Right. That’s… good. I’m glad. Believe it or not.”

Dabi tilts his head, studying him. “I almost believe you.”

Hawks starts the car, trying to match Dabi’s relaxed demeanor. “I guess that’s a motive for celebration then. 

“Restaurants don’t like me,” Dabi says, unbothered. “And right now I’m avoiding Enjerk.” 

“Guess I’m taking you to my place then.” 

Dabi grins.

Hawks is once more embarrassed by the sheer lack of personality in his apartment. The plain beige walls, the sparsely furnished living room, and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the silence—it all seems like the kind of place landlords will rent you, more like a show apartment.

Dabi, naturally, had taken note the first time he was there. He prowls through Hawks’ space, opening drawers, lifting cushions, and even peeking behind the television. His scrutiny feels invasive but not unexpected.

“You’re not going to find recorders or cameras,” Hawks calls out from the kitchen, his voice casual but laced with a hint of annoyance. “This isn’t my stunt apartment.”

Dabi snorts and drops onto the couch with a graceless thud, his legs sprawl out in front of him. He tilts his head back, studying the ceiling with a look that manages to convey both boredom and judgment.

“This place is dead. And boring. You need a console. Or at least a decent streaming service.”

Hawks leans against the counter, beer in hand. “I’m not here enough to care.”

“Compress would’ve smacked you for that,” Dabi replies dryly, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

Hawks is saved from responding by the sound of the delivery at the door. He takes the opportunity to escape, grabbing the bags of takeout and beers like they are lifelines. He brings them over, setting everything on the coffee table before sinking onto the couch next to Dabi.

“At least I have beer in the fridge,” Hawks mutters, cracking open another can.

Dabi glances at him, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Wow, congratulations. You’re officially a mediocre guy.”

Hawks rolls his eyes and reaches for his drink.

The silence stretches, but it isn’t entirely uncomfortable. Hawks busies himself with opening the containers, the scent of greasy food filling the room. Dabi, for once, seems contemplative as he leans back, his hands resting lazily on his thighs. Then, breaking the quiet, Hawks speaks.

“If you’re hiding out in my apartment, I’m guessing you’re still fighting with your pops.”

Dabi’s expression shifts immediately, his body tensing. He turns his head slowly to look at Hawks, one brow arches in disbelief.

“Why the hell do you care? So you can go running back to kiss his ass and hand out some half-assed advice on family matters you know nothing about?”

Hawks frowns. “Rude,” he murmurs. “You can’t just assume I’m taking sides here.”

Dabi’s laugh is sharp and bitter. “Oh, sure. So you’re telling me you’re not backing the abuser who thinks villains should rot in jail, but for some reason makes an exception for his own kid?”

Hawks set his beer down, his eyes narrowing. “Look, I’ve worked with your pops almost my whole life. Just because I admired him as a hero doesn’t mean I’ve ever supported his personal choices. Or his opinions, for that matter. And it’s not like I knew about any of that—not until you decided to clock him in front of half the world.”

Dabi’s lips twitch as if he wants to sneer but can’t quite muster it. Instead, he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto Hawks.

“You’re full of shit. But at least you’re consistent about it.”

Hawks sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Can you just admit you’re here because you trust me? Or, I don’t know, tolerate me? We could start there.”

Dabi leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and gives Hawks a long, unreadable look. For a moment, Hawks’ heart stutters. There is something intense in Dabi’s gaze, it’s raw and unguarded, and he never expected to see it.

“Trust you?” Dabi repeats, his voice low, almost taunting. “You really think that’s what this is?”

“Maybe,” Hawks says softly. “Maybe you just want to spend time with me.”

Dabi leans back again, his head falling against the couch. He stares at the ceiling for what feels like an eternity before muttering, “You’re an idiot. You are actually brainless.”

Hawks laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “Probably.”

The room seems to shrink as the silence settles again, heavier this time. Hawks feels the tension rolling off Dabi, filling the air. He turns his head slowly, his icy blue eyes boring into Hawks with an intensity that makes his breath hitch.

“You really believe I’ve changed?” Dabi asks, his voice a whisper, but the vulnerability in it struck like a shout. “You told him I’m changed.” 

Hawks swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “I wouldn’t let you sit on my couch if I didn’t.”

Dabi’s lips quirks, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re still an idiot.”

Hawks leans closer, his voice dropping. “And you’re still here.”

He thinks of movie night, and the things Hawks believes he imagined. 

“Are you even hungry?” Hawks asks. 

“Nah.” Dabi looks at him intensely. It’s a question. Hawks knows they are thinking the same thing. 

“You wanna try making out then?” Hawks thinks he could jump out of the window. No matter if he doesn't have wings. 

Dabi makes the motion of checking him out, his eyes falling on his lips before murmuring “yeah alright.”

Dabi’s arm shifts, wrapping around Hawks in a loose embrace. It’s awkward and tentative, but Hawks doesn’t pull away.

Dabi moves first, his lips capturing Hawks’ with an intensity that demands and gives in equal measure. The warmth radiating from his skin seeps into Hawks, wrapping around him and making his blood boil. Hawks gasps softly against Dabi’s mouth, the heat of the kiss pulling him under.

The hands on Hawk’s neck tightens, the grip pulling him closer, fingers tangling in his hair with desperation. Hawks presses closer, one hand finding its way to Dabi’s chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat beneath the scarred skin. It’s erratic, matching the rhythm of his own.

There’s no hesitation in the way Dabi tilts his head, deepening the kiss. It’s messy and unrefined, the clash of teeth and the press of mouths both desperate and grounding. All the neglected tension finally released as they try to accommodate on the couch.

When they finally part, both are breathless, their foreheads resting together as they fight to catch the air that suddenly feels too cold. Dabi’s expression is anything but unreadable now. His pupils are blown, and even though he looks high, Hawks knows is lust. 

He blinks up at him, lips slightly swollen, and his usual smirk is replaced by a rare vulnerability. “Dabi,” he murmurs, his voice cracking slightly. He doesn’t know what he wants to say, but it doesn’t matter. The name feels right on his lips.

“You are one of the few people that still calls me that,” Dabi’s voice lacks its usual edge. He leans in again, brushing his lips against Hawks’ once more—gentler this time, but no less consuming. It’s slower, more deliberate, as if he’s trying to memorize the way Hawks lips are shaped.

Hawks’ hand slides from Dabi’s chest to his waist, trying to accommodate himself so their groins can have a better angle. He closes his eyes, letting the world outside the lifeless apartment be forgotten.

Hawks has confirmation, at least, that whatever tension he felt during movie night was real. The bulge he can feel on Dabi’s pants also confirms the other has some extended emotions towards him. If the kissing isn’t clear enough. 

Kissing other people, or having sex for that matter, isn’t foreign to him. Hawks has had experience on that field, usually with other heroes and people involved in heroism; but he isn’t the manwhore magazines like to talk about. In fact, it had been a long time since he had someone over, and nobody had made him feel as nervous or aroused as he is right now. 

Dabi’s lips are different from other people he’d kissed. His lips aren't smoothed, to start; the one that isn’t burnt is soft, and the one that is feels scorched. His mouth feels slightly warmer than he is used to, and he kisses with his whole body. Hawks doesn't remember the last time someone kissed him like that. 

When they finally pull apart again, Dabi’s grip on Hawks doesn’t loosen. Instead, his arm wraps fully around him, pulling him close until Hawks is half-draped over his lap. 

“I think we might be in trouble,” Dabi whispers.

Hawks chuckles. “You think?” 

The room feels smaller now. Hawks’ heart is still racing, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he hasn’t felt in years—maybe ever. Dabi’s arm around him is firm, grounding, but the way his fingers absently trace patterns on Hawks’ back feels almost too tender for someone like him. It’s disarming, and Hawks isn’t sure if he wants to lean into it or pull away to catch his breath.

A part of his brain—the fucked up part of his brain, thinks all of the change he’s witnessed is a plan to fool him, so Dabi could take revenge for Hawks’ sins. 

It’s a fight with the rational part of his brain, the one that knows Dabi would never hurt his mother doing something stupid like that. That part is winning. 

Dabi, for his part, looks vulnerable in the way Hawks is not used to seeing him. His usual sharp edges seem softer now, his guard momentarily down. He’s staring at the ceiling, his jaw tight, but his eyes are distant, like he’s lost somewhere. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable—just heavy, like they’re both waiting for the other to say something.

Hawks clears his throat, his voice a little hoarse. “So… that happened.”

Dabi snorts, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, no shit, birdie. You’re real observant.”

Hawks rolls his eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. He shifts slightly, trying to sit up, but Dabi’s arm tightens around him, keeping him in place. Hawks raises an eyebrow. “You gonna let me move, or are we just gonna lay here like this forever?”

Dabi glances down at him, his smirk widening. “What’s the matter? Not used to being held down?”

Hawks feels his face heat up, but he manages to keep his tone light. “Oh, I’m used to it. Just not by you.”

Dabi’s smirk falters for a second, something flickering in his eyes—something Hawks can’t quite place. But then it’s gone, replaced by his usual sharpness. “Yeah, well, get used to it. You’re not going anywhere.”

Hawks laughs, a little breathless. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

Dabi doesn’t respond, but his grip doesn’t loosen either. Instead, he leans back against the couch, pulling Hawks with him until they’re both sprawled out, Hawks half on top of him. It’s awkward, but neither of them seems to care. Hawks rests his head on Dabi’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It’s faster than usual, and Hawks can’t help but smile a little at that.

For a while, they just lay there, the silence between them comfortable now. Hawks’ mind is still racing, though. He can’t stop thinking about the kiss—how it felt, how Dabi’s hands felt on him. But there’s also a part of him that’s scared. Scared of what this means, scared of what comes next. Scared of how much he already wants more.

Dabi seems to sense his unease because he breaks the silence first. “You’re thinking too loud, birdie.”

Hawks chuckles, his breath warm against Dabi’s chest. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly giving me a lot to work with here.”

Dabi’s hand moves to Hawks’ hair, fingers tangling. “What do you want me to say? That I’ve been thinking about this for a while? That I didn’t come here just to piss you off? That I—” He cuts himself off, his voice trailing into silence.

Hawks lifts his head, murmuring, “that you what?”

Dabi’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, Hawks thinks he’s not going to answer. But then he sighs, his voice low. “That I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Hawks feels his chest tighten at the confession. It’s not much, but coming from Dabi, it feels like a lot. He reaches up, brushing a strand of white hair out of Dabi’s face. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing, you know.”

Dabi’s eyes meet his, and not for the first time, Hawks sees something vulnerable in them. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by his usual smirk, but Hawks knows it was there. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who suggested making out. So, this is kinda on you.”

Hawks laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, so it’s my fault now? Typical.”

Dabi’s smirk softens into something almost like a smile. “You’re the one who kissed me back, birdie. Don’t act like you’re innocent here.”

Hawks feels his face heat up again, but he doesn’t look away. “Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to. I mean I did suggested it.”

Dabi’s hand stills in his hair, his expression shifting again. This time, it’s harder to read. “Yeah?”

Hawks nods, his voice softer now. “Yeah.” 

For a moment, they just look at each other. Then Dabi leans in, his lips brushing against Hawks’ in a kiss that’s softer than before, but no less intense. Hawks closes his eyes, letting himself sink into it, his hand resting on Dabi’s chest again. 

They intensify the kiss, and Hawks tentatively explores Dabi’s mouth with his tongue, hot and messy. He lets out a gasp when he feels a pair of hands grabbing his ass, and he moves his hips as a response, making Dabi moan. 

“Damn it,” Dabi growls, his hips snapping up against Hawks’ with a rough urgency. His teeth catch Hawks’ lower lip, tugging sharply, and Hawks lets out a breathy laugh that quickly turns into uneven breaths. The sensation is electric, overwhelming, and Hawks can’t help but push back, meeting Dabi’s rhythm with his own. Dabi’s hands tighten on Hawks’ waist, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, and Hawks revels in it—the way Dabi’s composure cracks, the way his breath hitches, the way his voice drops raw and desperate.

“You’re such a mess,” Dabi teases, shifting to angle himself just right. Hawks’ response is a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver down his own spine. It’s intoxicating, knowing he can unravel Dabi like this, that he can reduce the usually stoic, dangerous man to nothing but ragged breaths and muttered curses. Hawks grins, sharp and playful, as he rolls his hips again, savoring the way Dabi’s grip on him tightens even more.

“Shut up,” Hawks mutters, but there’s no bite to it, not when his voice is trembling, not when his eyes are dark and unfocused. Dabi laughs again, soft and breathless, and leans in to capture his lips in another kiss, swallowing the rest of his protests.

Hawks continue to move erratically, his hips rolling down again and again. Dabi leans his head back, and Hawks knows he’s close. They both are close. The realization of their heated making out leads him to stop. 

Coming by just dry humping would be so humiliating. They aren’t teenagers. 

“What’s wrong?” Dabi asks, but stops completely when Hawks’ hands start taking out his hoodie. 

“Wanna move this to my bedroom?” 

“Nobody needs a bed this big, although I suppose we made good use of it.” Dabi says as his fingers caress Hawks’ hair. “We’re gonna regret this, you know.” Suddenly more serious.

“Probably. I think it might be too late for that.”

Dabi chuckles, the sound low and rough. “Yeah. Too late.”

For the first time in a long time, his apartment doesn’t feel so lifeless.

They stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. It’s weird, but Hawks is not about to throw the other out of the bed, especially considering how tired he looks.

Dabi almost falls asleep when his phone starts to ring from the living room. They both get out of bed at the sound, Dabi to answer and Hawk’s to order whatever mess they left behind—and catch a bit of the conversation. He catches Fuyumi’s face on the phone before Dabi answers, the emitter of the call. It’s a weird pic that was clearly taken without her knowing. Not her most favorable angle, but definitely weird enough to be a meme.

Dabi puts on a shirt and his pants, only to go speak on the balcony. Thankfully no one knows Hawks’ real apartment. Otherwise someone might have catched him. 

The conversation is long, but at least when Dabi comes back he doesn’t seem to be moody. 

“Harada is on its way,” he says. Hawks needs a moment to place a face on the name. “Our driver.” He adds. “By the way, Fuyumi and mom are insisting you go for Christmas. I told them you were not interested.”

“Oh, okay.”

Dabi stares him down.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have anything better to do than suffer through a Todoroki Christmas?” He mocks.

“I have,” he laughs, trying to cover for the fact that he, in fact, does not. 

Dabi shoots him an incredulous look and sights. “I’ll tell them you’re coming. But if you roomshare with Natsuo I’m throwing you out.” 

Hawks stays silent for a moment, then speaks “that was good sex. Great sex.” 

Dabi raises an eyebrow “Well, thanks?”

“I mean it,” he assures, “I could be down for more.”

Dabi snorts as he returns to dressing himself. “Yeah well, I could be down for more too.” He leans closer, where Hawks is still half naked on the couch. “And for the record, I think it was good sex too.”

“Not great though?” he tries.

“Are you fishing for compliments?” He closes their distance with a wet kiss. 

*

Next year, Hawks is going to demand that the Christmas event is held in Okinawa. Or maybe the Volcano Islands. Anywhere but the freezing north, where the air cuts through him worse than Musutafu ever could.

He misses the warmth of his apartment—or more specifically, his bed.

At least he’d been smart enough to plan for the cold. He’d made sure to order new, fluffy blankets for the women and children who’d be staying at the shelters.

Hawks is overseeing two shelters: one for families and another exclusively for women and children. On opening day, he’s front and center, welcoming everyone with smiles and open arms. He hugs mothers, hands out Christmas presents to kids, and lingers to see their faces light up when they unwrap plushies, action figures, and clothes—both hero-themed and plain.

Even the adults receive care packages with new clothes and hygiene kits.

He knows the Commission will make this a media circus. They’ll twist it into some PR stunt, and the thought churns in his stomach. He’s tried—again and again—to convince them not to, but it’s a losing battle. Too many people already assume he’s doing it all for appearances, though ever since his upbringing went public, his fans have been vocal in defending him. Still, the shadow of doubt is always there.

The event is exhausting. By the time he sits down for a quick meal, he’s already spent hours smiling, laughing, posing for pictures, and serving food. Now, he’s seated across from a girl who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“You don’t have to sit with me,” she says flatly, not bothering to hide her irritation.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to intrude.” He gives her his warmest, most disarming smile. She sends him a cold glare that could make a few villains afraid. She has scales around her face, mixing with human-type skin. Her eyes, undoubtedly, look like snake’s eyes, too ambar with a sharp pupil. 

“You don’t have to do this.” Her voice low.

“Do what?”

“Pretend.”

Hawks leans back slightly, the word stinging more than he cares to admit. “Pretend, huh?” His voice softens, though his golden eyes lock onto hers. “If you really think I’m not being genuine, why’re you here?”

“Because we need this place,” she says curtly, her gaze dropping to the table. “It’s better if we don’t spend money.”

He gets stuck on the word we . Before he can press, a high-pitched voice interrupts.

“Nee-san! I got All Might!” A little boy comes bounding toward them, clutching a bright yellow action figure. He looks almost exactly like her, if not for the smaller scales and brown eyes. He freezes when he spots Hawks, his expression flickering between awe and nervousness.

“Well, aren’t ya going to say hi?” She tells him, gesturing with her eyes.

The boy hesitates before blurting, “Hi, Mr. Hawks.”

“Hellu there,” Hawks replies with an exaggerated salute, which earns a small giggle.

“C’mere,” the girl says, patting the seat next to her. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

Hawks watches them interact for a moment before speaking. “Are you two…?”

“Alone?” she finishes for him. Her tone is blunt, but there’s a flicker of something raw in her eyes. “Our mom died during the war. Dad left years before life got complicated. Or maybe life got complicated because he left.”

Hawks nods slowly. “How old are you?”

She narrows her eyes, like she’s trying to decide whether the question is worth answering. Finally, she relents. “I’ll be eighteen in February.”

“Are you planning on going to university?” he presses, because apparently he’s that dense. 

Her laugh is sharp and humorless. Hawks realises one second too late how stupid he sounded. “Are you serious?” She narrows her eyes before gesturing to the boy, who’s now leaning against her, fiddling with his action figure. “I’ll be able to take a full-time job by then.”

Hawks hesitates, his gaze flicking between her and the boy. “Look, mysterious girl,” he says at last, lowering his voice slightly. “See the woman over there? Long khaki coat, clipboard in hand? She’s my assistant. Give her your name and ID.”

The girl frowns. “Why?”

“I’ll get you into my youth program. If you’re interested, I’ll even set you up with a job at one of my agencies—Fukuoka or Musutafu, your choice.”

Her frown deepens, and for a moment, he wonders if she’s going to tell him to shove off. Instead, she mutters, “Your youth program?”

“Yeah. It’s for youth who need a hand to get started. No strings attached. Good money and part-time options, in case you want to continue your studies. The choice is yours.”

“Nee-san, you could be a hero!” the boy pipes up, his eyes lighting up with hope.

The girl’s expression tightens. “That’s not how it works,” she says gently, smoothing her brother’s hair.

Hawks lets the moment linger before standing. “The offer’s on the table. Merry Christmas, kid.”

Later, when he’s finally back in his hotel room, Hawks collapses onto the bed, kicking off his boots and letting out a groan. He barely has time to close his eyes before his phone buzzes on the nightstand, the glow of the screen pulling him from the brink of much-needed rest.

D: Cute

 

D: A bit of image laundry, but still cute

Attached is a video from earlier, showing him surrounded by kids, laughing as they gleefully buried him under a mountain of plushies and blankets.

Hawks stares at the screen, his mouth twitching into a half-smile despite himself. Before he can stop himself, his fingers move to type out a response.

H: Can’t live of hero field now, can I? 

 

H: Everything is genuine though

 

H: You spying on me again?

 

The reply comes almost instantly.

D: Don’t flatter yourself

 

D: It’s all over the news, hero of people’s hearts

 

D: A bit full of bs tbh

Hawks leans back against the headboard, the faint smile still there. He can practically hear Dabi’s dry tone in the words, equal parts mocking and amused.

H: Didn’t take you for someone who keeps up with hero PR

The three little dots of a reply hang on the screen longer than he expects, and for a moment, he wonders if the other had fallen asleep. Then, the message appears.

D: Only yours

 

[this message has been deleted]

 

D: You looked happy. Thought you didn’t do happy

Hawks’ grin falters. His thumb hovers over the keyboard, searching for the right words, but nothing feels right. Instead, he sends a simple reply.

H: I read it

 

H: [reply] Maybe you’re rubbing off on me

The response doesn’t come immediately, and for a while, Hawks thinks the conversation is over. He sets the phone down and tries to relax, but the faint buzz interrupts again.

D: You think I’m happy?

 

H: I mean, aren’t ya?

This time, Hawks really thinks the other is ignoring him. 

D: Don’t get too soft, birdie

The smile doesn’t fade. Hawks types one last message.

H: Good thing I’ve got someone to keep me sharp

There’s no reply after that, but Hawks doesn’t mind. The quiet hum of the city outside lulls him to sleep, his phone still clutched loosely in his hand. 

*

“Spit it out,” Nagant says, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studies him. She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, her expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion. “You’ve been fidgeting and avoiding eye contact for the past fifteen minutes. What’s going on?”

“Whaaaat?” Hawks drags out the word, forcing a laugh that sounds more strained than carefree. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “You’re imagining things. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” she says dryly, standing up and grabbing the bag of dresses he brought her. “I’m gonna go change now. You better get your story straight by the time I come back.”

Hawks watches her walk away, his heart pounding in his chest. He runs a hand through his hair, his usual confident demeanor crumbling under the weight of what he’s about to confess. Ten minutes, he thinks. Ten minutes to figure out how to say this without sounding completely insane.

Ten minutes later, Nagant returns, looking stunning in one of the dresses. But Hawks barely notices. He’s pacing the room, his mind racing. 

He can’t hold it in any longer.

“Dabi’s here too,” he blurts out, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

Nagant freezes, her eyes widening in shock. “He was arrested?!” she exclaims, her voice rising as she turns to face him fully. Her hands clutch the fabric of her dress, her knuckles turning white.

“Well—no,” Hawks stammers, his voice faltering. He avoids her gaze, staring at the floor as he struggles to find the right words. “He’s… visiting his friends.”

“And that’s a you problem because…?” Nagant’s voice trails off as she studies him, her sharp instincts picking up on the tension radiating from him. They lock eyes for a second, and that’s all she needs. Her lips part in disbelief. “Oh my God,” she whispers, her voice low but laced with shock. He must’ve known she is that good at reading people, considering she is his predecessor. “No way. There’s no way. You have the hots for an ex S-rank villain?!”

“Okay, first of all, lower your voice,” Hawks hisses. He glances around nervously, as if the walls themselves might betray him. “And secondly, hypothetically speaking, how bad do you think the commission would take the information of me and Dabi… you know… hooking up?”

Nagant stares at him like he’s just announced he’s quitting hero work to become a circus clown. He wouldn’t put it past him, considering he’s already a clown anyway. Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, but no words come out. Finally, after a long, incredulous pause, she turns to look at herself in the mirror, as if checking to make sure she’s still in the same reality. “Madam President might have put you in seclusion. Shove you into the dark room, if it still exists,” she says slowly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Mera, however, might just do damage control.”

“Damage control?” Hawks repeats, his voice tight with anxiety. He returns to the chair, his golden eyes searching hers for reassurance he knows he won’t find.

“Have you kissed in public?” Tsutsumi asks, her tone shifting to something more analytical, though her eyes still betray her shock. “Did it happen before you testified for him? Does someone else know? Did he sign an NDA? All of those things are important for the commission. Should be important to you, considering you are getting paid out of your public image now.”

Hawks swallows hard, his mind racing through the implications. “I guess you’re right,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair again. His usual confidence feels like a distant memory.

“Do they?” Tsutsumi asks, her voice softer now but no less probing. She turns to face him fully, her piercing gaze locking onto his. “Do those things matter to you?”

“Well, it already happened,” Hawks says, his voice tinged with frustration. “I can’t change it—”

“That’s not what I asked,” Tsutsumi interrupts, her tone firm. She tilts her head, studying him like a puzzle she’s trying to solve. “How did you know my boob size, anyway?”

Hawks blinks, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. “Checked your file,” he admits with a sheepish shrug. “Didn’t know they recorded that.” 

Tsutsumi shoots him a glare through the mirror, but there’s no real heat behind it. She sighs, shaking her head. “You’re deflecting,” she says. 

“Look, I don’t know, it’ll probably lead to nothing. It’s not like we are dating.”

“And if it doesn’t? If it leads to something?” she presses, her voice dropping to a near whisper. She steps closer, her expression softening just a fraction. “You know, you’re not held at arm’s length anymore.”

“What’d you mean?” Hawks asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“I mean,” Tsutsumi says, her voice gentle but firm, “you’re no longer on the rankings. So if you wanted to date or casually fuck a civilian—however twisted it might be—there’s nothing legally stopping you.”

Hawks stares at her, his mind reeling, her words mingling with the anxiety and guilt that’s been gnawing at him since the moment his lips met Dabi’s. 

“I know what you’re doing,” she says after a pause. “You’re buying me clothes because you want me to take the pardon and help you run the commission.”

“I’m gifting you clothes because I’m a good friend that thinks of the future. Even if you finally decide to leave this place and live a normal civilian life, you will need clothes.” 

“So considerate.” She says, sitting by his side and resting her head on his shoulder. “Almost convincing.” 

“You don’t need to go back to the commission.” He says even though he hopes she does. That way he won’t feel all alone and he could give Mera’s proposition a second thought. “Once you’re free they’ll unlock your bank account, if they treated me like they did you then you’ll live well for a lot of years before having to worry about money. You could live however you want, work in whatever you want.”

She turns her head back and raises a brow, smiling in mockery. “As long as it’s legal.” He retracts.

They laugh at that. They share details about what’s going on inside the commission, how things are changing, and what role could Hawks play in the future, now that he is no longer on the field. Hawks had decided to surprise her with sushi, which he notices she’s grateful for. Her eyes shine at the sight and looks even more happy when she realises he was also able to get her some beer. 

When the visit is over, Tsutsumi gives him a christmas hug and a faint kiss on his cheek. 

“Remember,” she says, “you have no attachments anymore.” 

*

Hawks leans against the car door waiting for Dabi to show up, they should have left fifteen minutes ago, so they can be on time for Christmas dinner. He had to make last minute shopping in Niigata, he at least hopes everyone likes what he gives them

“Took you long enough,” he says as soon as Dabi appears, walking toward him. Hawks decides to ignore the redness in his eyes that clearly indicates he’s been crying.

“They double checked I wasn't plotting mass murders.” 

“Your family must be relieved then,” he jokes.

“Nah, they didn’t catch me,” Dabi jokes back.

It takes Hawks a split second for his brain to do some weird, commission-trained somersault before he actually laughs at the comeback.

From the corner of his eye, he notices Dabi gripping the passenger seat handle a little too tightly before Hawks starts the engine. As they pull onto the road, the tension in Dabi’s shoulders slowly eases.

“Your music taste is awful,” Dabi mutters after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m supposed to listen to my surroundings, so I never listened to a lot of music. I don’t even own headphones.” 

“You used to wear all the time,” Dabi counters, connecting his phone to the car bluetooth. 

“To block sound because I had a very sensible quirk,” Hawks argues, pressing the accelerator a little harder. The road is nearly empty anyway.

Dabi is back at grabbing the handle. 

The faint sound of a song comes out the speakers, and Hawks chuckles. “I never would have thought you liked pop.” 

“I’m into everything that makes me feel something. And this is hyperpop anyway.” He looks out the window, probably trying to avoid him. Hawks can’t look at him, or he would have to take his eye out the road, but he’s not about to risk their lives doing that, so he just drives in silence paying attention to what’s in front of him along the raw lyrics getting out of the speakers. 

The woman is singing about a mirror, or knowing who she truly is, Hawks isn’t so sure because it’s in English and he barely speaks it. 

When the song changes there’s a moment of low mumbling, probably the start of whatever song is next, so Hawks takes his chance. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Alright.” 

When they reach the city, Hawks finally shifts down a gear, and a dramatic sight comes out of Dabi’s chest along with a ‘finally’ escaping his mouth. 

He’s still looking through the window, and Hawks finds it hard to discern what’s going on in his head. 

“I miss Himiko,” he says suddenly, voice rough. “And Jin. They liked Christmas.” 

“You should try to enjoy it then,” Hawks says, a familiar desolation crawling over him at the mention of Jin. He would be a hypocrite if he ever dares to mention the absolute despondency he feels when he remembers him. 

“Atsuhiro said the same thing.” 

Despite being the 24th there’s still a lot of people on the streets, mainly because in Japan the holiday has always been about spending it with family and friends— or your lover, pick your poison, but something tells Hawks their little group wouldn’t be well received at a temple. Maybe he could visit one during New Year, considering he’s never done it before. 

It still takes another twenty minutes to reach the house. They are, however, right on time.

“They are here!” Natsuo screams when they show up at the genkan. He’s wearing a light blue sweater. “Just in time, Nee-san is finishing the dessert. Here, put this on.” 

Hawks had never seen the kid so wrapped and excited. Especially considering all members of his family are supposed to be inside.

Hawks stares at the sweater in his hands. Dark yellow—gold, if he squints. Dabi’s is blue. Both have large letters: T and K.

“What is this?” Hawks asks, glancing at Dabi in disbelief.

“Told you,” Dabi grumbles. “You don’t want to go through a Todoroki Christmas.”

“So this is normal?”

“Fuck no.” Dabi looks even more irritated. “This is Christmas therapy dinner. Turns out we don’t have real family traditions—aside from major trauma and half-assed apologies—so we’re doing this twenty-six years later. Courtesy of the psychiatric group treating this crazy-ass family.”

Hawks needs a moment to process the fact that, all this time, the whole family had been going to therapy. Not just Dabi.

He needs another moment to process the K on his sweater. 

“Why not H?” 

“If I’m not wearing a D then you are not allowed to wear an H,” a crooked smile appears on his face. “ Keigo .” Dabi let the name dawdle on his tongue before he leaves further into the house without giving him a second glance. 

Something inside his stomach twitches. 

Shouto opens the door behind him, wearing a pink sweater with an S, and carrying a brown bag, probably from a convenience store. He catches Hawks staring at the one in his hands. 

“Mom made them,” he says, “so you have no choice.” 

“Why do they have to have letters?” He genuinely asks as he hangs his coat to put it on.

“Natsuo is obsessed with Harry Potter movies.” 

Hawks furrows. 

“Vintage movies about magical people. Haven’t watched them either.” 

He sighs as he steps into the house. The sweater is itching him on the neck, but that might be just the K crawling like a snake. Fucking turtlenecks. 

Turns out the house has a dining room by the kitchen, bigger than expected. The tatami floor alternates between two shades, there’s a large Japanese table for eight, and a large paper painting of mountains that hangs on the wall, or is the wall, he isn’t sure. Everything is expensive-looking, though for all Hawks knows, it could be from Nitori. Glass sliding doors frame the illuminated garden that is no longer snowy. He finds Dabi looking through the glass, the blue sweater somehow makes him seem taller. 

Hawks stands beside him, waiting. Dabi breathes evenly, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’s doing a breathing technique. Then, when Hawks stops watching him, he finally speaks.

“I really want a smoke.”

“That’s not illegal,” he tries to reason. “If it helps you sort thi—”

“I’m not allowed.” He hesitates for a moment, looks at him, then looks back at the garden. “I’m Borderline. I could, but it’s just preferable I don’t. In this house at least because they get mad which makes me mad.”

“Well, a smoke is always better than burns.” He tries to reason.

“Not when you have weak lungs.”

“Then I fear they are correct.”

“Tsk.” Hawks sees in live time how whatever horrid response he might have had went under the rug when Rei enters the room.

Such a mama’s boy. 

There’s no more room for small talk because Shouto and Natsuo are coming into the room to set the table, Dabi moves to the kitchen to help bring the food, and Hawks is once again feeling like he is stepping into somewhere he shouldn’t be. 

Rei comes in to greet him, stoic as ever, wearing a white sweater. Her hair looks longer, and she has put on some soft pink lipstick that makes her look younger.

“You bring him solace, I think, so thank you for coming.”

Her words prick at his chest. How? How could he help Dabi in any way when they have hurt each other multiple times in the past? Sex? Good, they can have that without drawbacks. But comfort? Consolation? Solace ? Rei must be imagining things. 

His mind stops spinning when Endeavor gets into the room, everyone already seated. They lock eyes and it takes a moment to recollect the red sweater with a big E on. 

“Is there something wrong?” The man seems oblivious to how ridiculous he looks.

Hawks suppresses a laugh with all his inner force, he suppresses the maddening laugh he wants to have so hard that his whole face feels contractured. He can’t not take a picture.

Endeavor burrows twitch. “If you leak that—” Oh Hawks knows exactly who’s always pending to her phone.

Hawks presses play on the audio Burnin sent him instantly. A loud, crackling laugh bursts through the speakers, “he looks like a giant tomato”, followed by more laughter. 

The room erupts in an uncontrolled laughter, even Dabi joining in having to slap the table a couple of times, though his laugh is more subdued. For a moment, the tension dissipates, and Hawks feels a flicker of relief. He's pretty sure they’re laughing partially because Burnin’s laugh is contagious.

Endeavor just shuts him an annoying look. 

Shouto is quick to stand up once he stops his attempt at hiding his own laugh. “C’mmon Natsuo,” he says. Hawks watches, amazed, how the two men help Endeavor to get out of the chair to sit on the zaisu. They are probably the strongest Todorokis in the house, but that doesn’t erase the annoyed expression Natsuo has on his face when he has to help his father. 

For a moment, Hawks lost himself thinking of how the hell Endeavor does it to take a shit. Then he remembers the bathroom has accommodations for disabled.

Before eating, Rei puts a hand in the air, decided to say some words because apparently that’s what people do over family dinners. Hawks wouldn’t know. As soon as she says she got a speech, he exchanges a wary look with Dabi. Yeah, he shouldn’t have come. 

“Let’s take hands,” Rei says but Dabi snorts, twitching by his side. “They said I should say things I’m thankful for.” 

Hawks wonders if by ‘they’ she refers to the doctors that’ve been treating them. 

“But we are not christians.” Dabi argues.

“We’re not?” Shoto asks, tilting his head. “But this is Jesus’ birthday. I thought we converted. I even invited everyone in Class A to my baptism.” 

Natsuo snorts as he takes his mother’s and Shouto’s hands without second questions. 

Hawks wants to go back into his car and drive to the comfort of his loom apartment. 

“You can stick your hands down your ass, then,” Fuyumi quips. The light gray sweater softens her, makes her look younger. If Hawks squints, he can almost picture her as a rebellious teenager, although he knows she probably never was. Never had the time for it. She takes Shouto’s other hand and rests her grip on Endeavor’s shoulder. The man still refuses to get a prosthetic in the name of his long long karma. 

“Fuyumi.” Endeavor scolds, voice firm. “Don’t swear on the table. You are a teacher.” 

“There’s a Hoteiosho in the middle of the table.” Dabi exclaims after shooting a glance at Hawks’ hands. He turns his head to see the red small statue of a fat and bald monk with eyes in front and back of his head. Hawks feels observed.

“Touya.” Rei warns. 

“Tsk. Fine.” At first, Dabi hesitates, reluctant, not knowing how to take his hand. To be fair to him, they haven’t touched hands, even though they have had more intimate interactions. When their hands are finally intertwined, he can feel the other’s palm so warm that it makes him sweat. Hawks eyes Endeavor’s outstretched hand before settling on his wrist instead. Endeavor doesn’t mind. Although he feels a bit uncomfortable stretching so far, considering the other is sitting at the end of the table. He wouldn’t have to go through that if Aiko had come. But she didn’t, and so there’s a missing seat by his side. 

“Let’s go from oldest to youngest,” Rei announces, her tone as stoic as ever. Ice-cold, as if the entire situation isn’t bizarre. Hawks glances at Dabi—he looks like he wants to disappear. Just as unreadable as his mother, but teetering on the edge of dissociation.

“Should’ve gotten drunk first,” Dabi murmurs. 

“Touya,” Rei begins, voice steady. “I’m thankful you chose us, even though you could have said no. Even though you could have chosen death. I’m thankful you decided to live.”

Dabi doesn’t react. Or maybe he does, just too subtly for anyone to catch. Maybe he’s catching fire from his guts.

“Fuyumi, I’m thankful that despite everything, you never lost your cheerfulness. You did such a wonderful job raising your siblings, even though that was my responsibility and you were still a child. I hope you’ll consider putting yourself first now that you don’t have to carry them on your shoulders.”

Then—

“Hawks.”

He stiffens, caught off guard. Being addressed in a speech that screams family feels so wrong.

For a second, he swears he can feel his wings growing back just so he can fly out the nearest window.

“I’m thankful you decided to come tonight. I can only assume so much about you, but you’ve been incredibly kind to our family. I hope you’ll consider this the first of many gatherings.”

Dabi lets out a quiet snort, like he hadn’t expected it to go that way. Hawks’ chest tightens. He isn’t sure if that reaction is normal or not.

“Natsuo, I’m thankful you grew up to be a kind, empathetic, and loving man. You understand love better than any of us, and that’s why it hurts you so much. I’m thankful you let those emotions out instead of following the family tradition of shutting down.”

She exhales, turning to the youngest. “Shouto, I’m so thankful for your heart. For the way you reach out to us, for how you brought us back together even though it was unfair to you. You’ve made us a family again. I’m grateful you became a strong, kind-hearted hero—because that means you’re a strong, kind-hearted person.”

Hawks thinks it’s over. He’s almost free of this secondhand misfit discomfort.

Then—

“Enji, I’m thankful you finally came back to us.”

That’s what does it. That’s what breaks them.

The father and his two oldest cry. Or at least he clearly sees Fuyumi. Dabi is the first to move, shoving back his chair and storming out of the room. The moment is broken. The hand-holding stops. Hawks shifts, about to go after him—to check if he’s burning the house down—when Fuyumi speaks through her own tears.

“He doesn’t like people seeing him cry. Give him a minute.”

Shouto looks at his mom and says simply, “I’m thankful you came back to us, too.”

She smiles at him, letting a small snowflake float toward his nose.

“I thought his tear ducts were burned,” he murmurs.

“Nah, he’s just a good liar.” Natsuo says as he drinks a beer. He doesn’t look half as bad as Hawks thought he’d be. Although he hasn’t looked at Endeavor all night. 

Fuyumi jumps as soon as Dabi returns to the room. 

“We are missing Hawks’ first gift!” She exclaims excitedly before running out the room, tears forgotten.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He puts his hands in the air, trying to stop whatever thing that was happening. He feels his neck itching more by the second. “Just one is okay, really, there’s no need— you guys can return…it.”

“Ta-da!” Fuyumi reappears, holding two XL red buckets of KFC. “It isn’t Christmas without this.”

“Midoriya mentioned that it’s normal to eat a lot of KFC on the 24th,” Shouto adds matter-of-factly.

“It is too,” Dabi says, grabbing a piece of chicken with a smirk.

“Touya, how was Tartarus?” Endeavor asks, his voice unusually even—devoid of its usual edge, carrying neither malice nor judgment.

Dabi blinks twice, as if weighing his response. “It was good.”

“Did they like your gifts, Touya-nii?” Natsuo chimes in, his tone lighter.

“Mn.” Dabi mumbles, noncommittal.

“What did you get them?” He asks, ever curious.

“Board games.”

“Ah, yeah, I guess that’d be useful.”

Dabi doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns to Natsuo, his grin sharpening. “Did you do it? Or are you still keeping secrets from your family?”

“Do what?” Rei asks, glancing between them.

“You’re such a snitch,” Natsuo mutters under his breath.

“Oh my god, did you propose?” Fuyumi gasps. “Did you finally do it?”

“Is that why Aiko didn’t come? Because she said no?” Shouto asks, unfazed, dipping his chicken into teriyaki sauce.

Natsuo sighs, raising both hands in surrender. “This isn’t about Aiko,” he says. “Touya-nii was just asking about my driver’s test. Took it this morning.”

Fuyumi smirks. “You mean the test you keep failing every year?”

Natsuo glares. “You don’t even use your license.”

“But I have it,” she quips. “Shouto’s learning in school, and Touya… wait, do you even know how to drive?”

Dabi hums, tapping his fingers against the table. “I know how to hotwire a car, disable the alarm, and weave through traffic at 180 without getting caught. I just don’t know the actual laws, so I won’t be taking the test anytime soon.”

A beat of silence.

“When did you learn all that?” Hawks asks, brows raised. “I thought Iguchi was the only one who drove.”

Dabi shrugs. “I was young. Slept in cars sometimes. You pick things up.”

Across the table, Rei watches him, her expression unreadable. For the briefest moment, her gaze flickers to his hands, the burns etched into his skin.

“Well?” Endeavor asks, redirecting. “Did you finally get the license?”

Natsuo sighs but pulls out the card, holding it up for everyone to see.

Shouto leans in, squints, then deadpans. “You look like a delinquent.” 

Dabi snorts, “it must run in our blood, then.” They settle back into their meal, maintaining an easy rhythm. The atmosphere is civil—surprisingly so—and this time, Hawks gets a clearer picture of their family dynamic.

Dabi is the one who throws out snarky remarks, his sarcasm is a constant undercurrent. Fuyumi, though just as sharp at times, balances it with an upbeat energy and an ability to talk about almost anything. Natsuo is engaged, happy to participate, but he doesn’t resort to sarcasm when steering away from topics he’d rather avoid. Shouto and Endeavor are eerily similar—both speaking only when necessary, offering facts or observations that are relevant enough to go unchallenged.

And then there’s Rei. She doesn’t speak much, but she listens—really listens—her gaze absorbing every detail. It reminds Hawks of Dabi back when he was only known as Dabi.

“How was Niigata?” Rei asks him, directly. 

“It was good, but I still have to finish some paperwork at the office tomorrow, considering I took the day off today.” 

He feels Endeavor looking at him, frowning. “Are you sure you want her there?” 

Hawks straightens in his seat. He wasn’t expecting that question. “How do you know?” 

“President Mera wanted me to dissuade you.” Hawks snorts, he’s the one that’s frowning now. “I refused. It’s none of my business.” 

“Then don’t ask.” His voice sharp. 

Hawks thinks it’s strange the way Dabi, Natsuo and Shouto are looking at him, the same stare. He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has.

“Is this about that rumour going around?” Shouto asks, putting his plate back at the table. “Is it true then? Were you asked to be the next President of the Commission?” 

Dabi turns his head to look at him, his stare burning a hole in his head. 

Hawks sighs. “Yes, Shouto. But please don’t go commenting on it. I refused.”

“You refused?!” Fuyumi chims in. “Isn’t it like— the highest job someone on heroism can get?” 

“No—” He and Endeavor say at the same time. 

“I’m not taking it without Nagant there, as second in command. That was my condition.” He drinks from his beer. He doesn’t know why it’s so easy to talk about his life with this family. 

“It’s for the best,” Rei adds, definitively. “You’d get grey hair too soon.” 

After eating the strawberry cake, they move to the living room to open gifts, mainly because Natsuo has to leave soon, and not everyone will be there in the morning.

Dabi sits by Hawks’ side, way too close, with a bottle of wine in hand.

“If you’re drinking, get a glass,” Endeavor says.

Dabi just looks him in the eye and takes a slow sip directly from the bottle.

“What if your siblings want to drink too? Touya, get a glass.” It sounds more like an order, so of course Dabi doesn’t listen and drinks again.

“She doesn’t drink, he has to drive, and that one over there is a minor.”

“And what about Hawks?”

“Chicken doesn’t mind.” He offers the bottle in Hawks’ direction, their eyes meeting in silent challenge. “Right?”

Hawks hesitates, glancing between Dabi and the bottle. The glint in Dabi’s eye is daring, coaxing. He knows what he’s doing, and Hawks knows he should refuse. But he doesn’t.

“Right.” He takes the bottle and drinks from it. Endeavor sighs.

“Does that mean you’re staying?” Natsuo asks. “You can take my room!”

Dabi lets out a dry laugh, but his gaze flickers to Hawks’ neck—just for a second, but Hawks catches it. He remembers too well that Dabi likes to bite.

“Maybe I’ll call a cab,” Hawks mutters. “No need to worry.”

Shouto is the first to open his gifts. From Dabi, he gets a vintage camera—not quite old, more like from the Heisei era, but still antique enough to be special. Fuyumi gives him lens filters, and Natsuo hands him a scrapbook album. It’s obvious they coordinated their gifts. Rei and Endeavor get him a data projector that connects to his phone, so he can watch movies in his dorm. Hawks’ earpods are well received.

“Ah, to be the youngest sibling,” Natsuo says, shaking his head.

“Don’t spit to the sky,” Dabi replies with a smirk.

Hawks leans in close to Dabi, his breath warm against his ear. “Is Endeavor not giving him one of his own?”

Dabi flinches—almost imperceptibly—but Hawks catches it.

Dabi retaliates by whispering back, lips grazing his ear. “You won’t be sleeping in Natsuo’s room tonight.” His voice is low, almost a growl. “Dad doesn’t know how to pick gifts.”

Fuyumi is next. Dabi gifts her a pair of gold earrings with a promise to pierce her ears—or her nose if she wants. She argues that presentation at work is still important. Natsuo gets her an Akiko Aoki coat, and Shouto a set of eyeshadows and brushes. Rei and Endeavor give her a pair of boots. Hawks has a good eye, because she adores the heels he bought her.

Then it’s Hawks’ turn. He doesn’t really know what to expect.

Dabi hands him a small box. Inside is a leather necklace with a red gem hanging from it. It looks expensive, making Hawks wonder just how much money Dabi makes freelancing.

“It’s red jasper,” Dabi says, watching his reaction. Like that’s supposed to mean something. It probably does.

Hawks studies him, then nods. “Thank you.”

Fuyumi and Natsuo give him a wind chime made of red glass feathers—for his balcony, they say. Neither of them have ever been to his apartment. But Dabi has. That much is clear when he avoids Hawks’ gaze. Shouto gives him a bonsai tree, alluding that he doesn’t have any plants in his apartment. But Rei and Endeavor’s gift is different.

They give him a bronze statue.

“Do you know who she is?” Endeavor asks.

Hawks shakes his head. The statue has many arms, and he’s sure he’d seen similar ones across Japan.

“Her name is Kannon, the Bodhisattva of Compassion.”

“She is believed to hear the cries of those who suffer and offer them comfort,” Rei murmurs, moving to his side and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “Do not burden yourself with undue harshness, dear.”

Hawks swallows thickly. He won’t cry. He won't allow himself to cry. He takes the bottle from Dabi’s hand instead, finally understanding why he needed alcohol to get through the night.

Rei is next. She receives the jasmine hair mask Dabi bought her at the mall, a pearl necklace from Fuyumi, a face cream from Natsuo, a lipstick set from Shouto, a nail polish from Aiko, and a spa ticket from Endeavor. Hawks gives her a pair of blue earrings, which she puts on immediately, smiling warmly.

Christmas hasn’t been so bad after all.

Then it’s Dabi’s turn.

Fuyumi gifts him a leather jacket full of spikes—perfectly his style. Natsuo hands over a set of acrylic paints, eyes gleaming with the hope that Hawks won’t look too surprised when he finds out Dabi can paint. And Hawks, despite the disbelief lingering in his chest, says nothing. Shouto gives him an official Kashima Antlers jersey, since apparently, Dabi has a thing for football.

Hawks’ turn comes last. He hesitates, a flash of doubt creeping into his mind, then hands over a book. A deluxe edition of No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai, one of the most hauntingly introspective works of Japanese literature. Hawks had skimmed through some of it before deciding on it, and each page had screamed Dabi's name in ways Hawks could barely comprehend. He can’t shake the feeling that this is too personal.

“I think you might like it,” Hawks murmurs, the words barely escaping his lips, as if they’re too fragile. “Let me know if you want me to return it.”

He immediately regrets saying it. It’s stupid—pathetic, even.

“I’ll read it,” Dabi’s gaze flicks to him, his voice low. And just like that, he looks away, as though he’s trying to shrug off the weight of whatever had just happened. But Hawks feel it, the tension humming in the air between them. 

Despite the tension, it’s his parents’ gifts that shake him.

The first one makes him freeze. It’s a framed photo taken by Toga and Twice, they are making a heart with their hands. Behind them, the League of Villains lounges on a couch. Shigaraki and Spinner have handheld consoles on, Compress grins with a peace sign, and Dabi sticks his tongue out. For once, they all look… content. 

The second gift comes with a note taped to the wrapping: ‘Prohibited to use it’.

It’s Himiko Toga’s knife.

The carved heart on the handle is unmistakable.

Dabi doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. The room feels heavier, and Hawks glances at Endeavor, disbelief written all over his face.

“How did you…?” Hawks is so stunned he can’t finish the question.

“I pulled some strings,” Endeavor says simply. Hawks doesn’t even want to know how he got his hands on that knife. 

Dabi finally exhales. “Let’s keep going.”

“Noo, I lost it,” Shouto grumbles as he continues trying to figure out how to turn the camera on.

Then comes Endeavor’s turn. He only receives three gifts—Rei's glasses,Hawks’ fancy watch, and everyone else’s: a prosthetic arm.

“Fucking finally,” Dabi mutters, rolling his eyes.

“At least it has red on it,” Hawks jokes, brushing his fingers against Dabi’s hand as he reaches for the bottle. Their eyes meet—Hawks sees exhaustion there, and wonders just how much effort is he doing to not burst out.

Then it’s Natsuo’s turn. Dabi gives him a deluxe version of a video game they used to like when they were  children, Fuyumi gives him the three first volumes of a manga he wanted, and Shouto gives him a new perfume. Hawks’ present is an elegant winter coat that is also well received.

“Don’t let size cloud you,” Rei says. 

It’s small, whatever their gift is. 

Hawks watches as Natsuo opens the tiny box and pulls out a set of car keys. His face is frozen in shock.

Okay, maybe not small at all.

“You’ve been complaining about your residency out of town all year,” Rei says. “This will make it easier than squeezing into the train.”

Dabi let out a long whistle, just as the sound of Shouto’s camera clicked in the room. 

“You think it’s that easy?” His voice comes out raspy. “You give me a car to fill the emptiness of seventeen years of abandonment and suddenly I’m supposed to be grateful?!”

“Natsuo,” Rei calls. 

“No,” Endeavor says, seriousness all over his face. “The car is a gift, not a compensation. I bought it thinking about you, what you might need and can use. It’ll make it easier when you move in with your girlfriend, too,” He adds. “Especially if you plan on having a family with her.”

Natsuo is speechless. Everyone waits patiently until he says something, but he’s too stunned to even open his mouth, looking at the keys on his hand in shock. 

“You didn’t even know I had my test today,” he says. “You didn’t know.”

“I didn’t need to.” Endeavor responds. 

Natsuo is speechless. Everyone waits patiently until he says something, but he’s too stunned to even open his mouth, looking at the keys on his hand in shock. 

“If he doesn’t want it I’ll have it.” Fuyumi says. 

“Fuck off,” Natsuo says. “Where is it?” 

“Don’t curse,” Endeavor scolds. “In the front yard.” 

Fuyumi is the first to leave the room, almost running, her laughter still lingering in the air. One by one, the others follow, their voices fading into the hallway. 

Dabi stays behind, kneeling among the torn gift wraps, absently crushing a piece in his fist.

“Leave that for later,” Rei calls from the corridor.

“Nah, we’ll clean in no time. Be right there.”

Soon, the front door shuts with a final click, leaving only silence and the faint scent of pine and cinnamon hanging in the room.

That’s when Dabi moves.

No hesitation, no warning—just heat and motion. One second, Hawks is standing there, still caught in the warmth of the evening, and the next, Dabi is on him. Hands rough, searing, cupping his jaw like he’s afraid he’ll disappear. Lips crash together, desperate, raw, tasting of something bittersweet—maybe the bottle of wine they’ve been sharing. It makes Hawks chest aches. 

Hawks gasps, but Dabi doesn’t let him pull away. He drinks in the sound, pressing in, their bodies flush, the cool air doing nothing to smother the fire curling in his stomach. Hawks’ fingers dig into Dabi’s sides, half steadying himself, half pulling him closer.

By the time they break apart, Hawks is breathless, lips tingling, pupils blown wide. Dabi hovers close, his breath warm and uneven.

“Thought you’ll wait till later,” Hawks murmurs, voice hoarse between amusement and want.

Dabi smirks. "Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas, birdie."

They take the wraps to the front yard, where they find Shouto taking a picture of Natsuo in his brand new car. A white Lexus. 

“I’m guessing you finally touched your commission bank account.” Hawks jokes, walking by Endeavor’s side like he hasn't had his son’s tongue inside his mouth a minute ago. 

“What do you mean?” Fuyumi asks. “Isn’t all hero money the same?” Hawks dry laugh. 

“Agency money is a lot of estate funding, partnerships with brands, and all that social play.” He explains. “Commission money is payment by doing commission missions.” 

“I don’t think the ozone layer likes you very much,” Shouto says as he takes a picture of Dabi burning the Christmas wraps. He makes a peace sign. “So, how rich are you?”

“Shouto!” He gets scolded by both his parents and Fuyumi.

“We don’t talk about money,” Rei says. 

“Richer than you but not richer than Endeavor,” he manages to answer. 

*

“Are we seriously doing this?” Hawks asks between kisses. He’s already half undressed, with a trace of kisses down his neck. He’s also half drunk. “At your house?”

“We would if you shut up.” 

“Endeavor’s room is not on this floor, is it?” 

“Can’t take the chair up the stairs.” 

“Okay, good.” 

After Natsuo left to go visit his girlfriend—never mind it was the middle of night, everyone called it a good night and went to bed. Hawks had to assure Shouto he and Dabi are actually on good terms and he’ll be fine taking the futon to Dabi’s room. Fuyumi just gives them an inquisitive look before leaving to her own room. 

“Are you this rough because you’re mad or is this your usual self?”

“Thought you liked it rough. Want me to slow down?”

“No, no— I was just wondering, keep going.” 

Dabi’s mouth is warm against his nipple, one of his hands firm on his waist and the other stroking him fast. Hawks had never thought how intoxicating Dabi is. He makes him drown and combust, all at once. Hawks has had good sex, but never so good he could forget his surroundings. Not until Dabi. 

A moan escapes Hawk’s mouth when Dabi’s thumb starts circling his head. 

“ Birdie , gotta keep it quiet. Walls aren’t that thick ya know?” 

“Shit,” it’s everything he can say, trying to bring himself back from whatever place Dabi always sends him. 

*

“Is that one of Touya-nii’s shirts?” Shouto asks as they step into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning.

“I forgot pajamas,” Hawks replies casually.

From the corner of the kitchen, Fuyumi gives them both a sharp, inquisitive glance as she pours herself a cup of coffee. She’s already fully dressed, makeup done, looking completely prepared to head out for the day.

“Was the futon alright?” Shouto asks, settling into his seat.

“Oh, I bet they slept just fine, Shou,” Fuyumi says, voice teasing as she stirs her coffee.

Dabi shoots her a look, but she only snorts in response, unfazed.

“Want me to drop you off somewhere?” he asks after a beat. “I should be heading out anyway.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” She says. “Dad mentioned your birthday’s on Monday.”

That makes Hawks pause, blinking in mild surprise. “Why on earth would Endeavor bring me up?” he mutters, mostly to himself. He exhales softly, tilting his head. “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t celebrate my birthday,” he says, offering an easy smile, as if that might reassure her.

She just frowns. 

“Wrong answer,” Shouto mutters, sipping his soup.

Hawks glances at Dabi, who only shrugs, clearly not planning to rescue him. Fuyumi’s stare remains unwavering, expectant.

With a sigh, she gives in, “alright then.” 

*

There’s a silence over the phone, and a brand new email on his inbox awaiting to be answered. “You could always fake your death.” Dabi says. “Want some tips?”

“Don’t bother.” He closes the email as fast as he reads the first sentence. “Hey, are we alright? You and I?” He doesn’t know why he has the sudden urge of clarifying that, even though they’ve fucked twice. 

Dabi remains silent. “I guess. It’s just sex.”

“Hot sex though?”

“Definitely hot.” 

“Alright then.” 

He hangs the phone first and turns in his chair. After a few minutes Tokoyami comes into his office with the memorandum of his shift. 

“Think fast. You are in a hostage-rescue situation. You are the hostage. If you remain silent and obedient, less people die and you can help things from inside the building. If you decide to fight and leave the building, you won’t have control over things but you also have less chances of dying, giving you the freedom of living a long life. Which one do you choose?”

“How does this connect with my shift?”

“It doesn’t.”

Tokoyami sits on the couch he has in his office, the one he’s always asking to change. “Am I a hero in this situation?” 

“You are just a civilian.” His intern sends him a sharp look. 

“I think that, even as a civilian, I’d like to help save others. However, any bad movement and people might end up dead, I don’t think I’d like that in my conscience. Also, in a hostage situation there are heroes working from the outside. I’d trust they know what to do to save everyone else.” 

“But you could help and speed things up.” 

“I feel like I’m missing some context,” he says. “Is this truly a hypothetical scenario?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he closes the laptop on his desk. “Let’s have some lunch.” 

*

His birthday comes and goes without much notice, and so does New Year’s. The days blur together, marked only by the occasional text message. He gets the usual ones from Mirko and Tokoyami—short, casual, but still appreciated. This year, though, the Todoroki family joins in.

Fuyumi’s is sweet and a little formal, full of exclamation points and warm wishes. Natsuo’s is short and to the point, but genuine. Even Shoto, who isn’t the best with words, manages a simple “Happy New Year” with a firework emoji tacked onto the end.

It’s a small thing, but it lingers with him longer than he expects. Maybe because it makes him feel… included.

Which is why it’s so strange that, despite all that, no one prepared him for the sight of Dabi sitting in his living room like he owns the place.

A kerchief is tied lazily around his head, keeping his unruly white hair out of his face. Two open books are sprawled out in front of him, he’s leaning forward, one elbow propped on the table, chewing absently on the end of a pen as he stares at the pages like they personally offended him.

Hawks raises a brow, crossing his arms. “Hello, Dabi-who-does-not-live-here and totally entered illegally.”

Dabi grins, unrepentant. “Hey.”

Hawks gestures vaguely. “Should I be concerned, or…?”

Dabi leans back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. “Had another fight with Enjerk,” he says, voice flat. “And I need to study.”

Hawks squints at him. “So you study this much?”

Dabi shrugs. “Yes, ever since I figured out failing this thing means being stuck with my old man’s nagging for another year.”

Hawks lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Must’ve been a hell of a fight if it got you cracking open a book.”

“Yeah, well.” Dabi flips a page without looking up. “Nothing new.”

Hawks doesn’t push. He just hums, moving toward his room. “You break anything?”

“Nope.”

“You burn anything?”

“Not this time.”

“Then I don’t wanna hear about it ‘til after my shower.”

Dabi waves him off, already going back to his notes, and Hawks disappears down the hall.

After his shower, he pulls a loose shirt over his head before stepping out into the main room. The scent hits him immediately—something rich and savory, curling through the air and making his stomach growl.

He follows it into the kitchen and pauses in the doorway.

Dabi is standing over the stove, chopsticks in one hand, lazily stirring a pan of yakisoba. Steam rises from the noodles, carrying the warm scent of soy sauce and garlic. The sight is so bizarre that Hawks just stands there for a moment, stunned.

He ha seen it before, mainly directed towards Toga, when they were at the Liberation Mansion. But watching him in just some joggers and a plain white shirt that matches his hair makes his brain spire. It’s so different from the Dabi he’s used to, but that’s something Hawks have already proven over the past few weeks. 

Once again he’s wondering if he should stop calling him Dabi.

“You know how to actually cook?” he asks eventually.

Dabi doesn’t turn, just smirks. “I’m not Yumi, but I manage.”

Hawks snorts, stepping closer to peek over his shoulder. “And here I thought you survived on instant ramen and spite.”

Dabi scoffs. “Takes one to know one.”

“Hey, I eat balanced meals.”

“Chicken nuggets don’t count.”

Hawks clicks his tongue. “Damn. Exposed in my own home.”

Dabi shakes his head, but there’s something amused in the way he plates the food, pushing a bowl into Hawks’ hands without a word. They sit down at the small kitchen table, eating in comfortable silence, the occasional clink of chopsticks against ceramic the only sound between them.

Eventually, conversation drifts.

Hawks leans back in his chair. “So, what was the fight about this time?”

Dabi sighs through his nose, stabbing at his noodles. “Told him I want to move out once I pass my exam and get a better job. So Mom can move out too.”

Hawks tilts his head. “And he’s against it?”

Dabi snorts. “Thinks it’s too soon. Doesn’t think I’ll keep a job long enough to make it work.”

Hawks hums, twirling his chopsticks between his fingers. It’s not an unfair concern. Dabi’s never exactly been the picture of stability, and no one can guarantee he’ll find a well paid job to fulfill more than basic needs, or that his boss won’t throw him out because his villain presence makes downsales. But still.

“You will,” Hawks says simply.

Dabi gives him a dry look. “Oh yeah? You got some great insight into my future, or are you just bullshitting?”

Hawks smirks. “Bit of both. You’ll figure it out.”

Then—

“Would you like me to call you Touya?” 

Dabi stops mid motion. 

“Say it again.”

“Touya.” He makes a face, as if he’s considering. 

“Again.”

“Touya.” 

Dabi locks eyes with him for what feels like an eternity, then smirks. “Would you let me call you Keigo?” 

“No.” his voice firm.

“Then you’re stuck with Dabi then.” 

“That’s fine with me.” He smiles. “You were first Dabi to me anyway.” 

He smiles at him, and it’s such a casual, soft smile, that Hawks feel the first signs of his future capital loss of mind. 

They don’t comment on their names any further, or the fact that Dabi stays the night. 

*

By mid-January, his phone has become a constant reminder of his burdens. Every day, Mera’s call chimes in with updates and subtle urgencies, and Tsutsumi’s offhand words about her pardon—but her refusal to join the Commission—had him rethinking his next steps. Her not joining him has led him to a closed alley on what the hell is he going to do now. 

His plan had once been razor‐sharp in his mind: Get Nagant. Take the president's seat. Appoint Nagant as second in command. Close the youth program. Close the rankings. 

In that exact order. But now, with one crucial ally missing from his corner, the carefully calculated steps seemed suddenly compromised. He exhaled a long, measured sigh, feeling his future slipping out of control.

A sharp knock at the door snapped him out of his brooding. Opening it, he finds Rei and Endeavor—unexpected guests whose presence startles him.

“Rei, Endeavor,” he greeted, his voice betraying a mix of surprise and tension. “Did something happen?”

“Touya’s birthday was yesterday,” she says. Endeavor purposely avoids his look. “I thought of bringing you a piece of cake, considering it was a big cake. Fuyumi went a bit overboard.” 

Hawks is lost for words. He lets them in in a rush, hopefully the place looks presentable enough. The oversized piece of blueberry cake in her hands seems less like a treat and more like a reminder of the celebrations he’d missed out.

“Why didn’t he bring it?” he manages, the question lace with hurt. He is not sure if they are friends. Either way, they know each other intimately . He could’ve used a distraction if Dabi had come. 

“We sang happy birthday in the morning and then Touya went to Tartarus.” Endeavor says. “I ignore what kind of conversations he had with Atsuhiro Sako, but it left him so drained he was still sleeping this morning, got up to eat something and went back to sleep.” 

“Are you worried?” Hawks askes, the question sounding more rhetorical than curious.

“No.” He seems sincere. 

“Actually,” Rei joins. “Enji talked to me about… other matters we’d like to discuss with you.” 

A flicker of anxiety passes over Hawks. Half-jokingly, he asks, “Should I be worried?” The levity in his voice barely masks the internal alarm bells that his secret with Dabi is uncovered. 

“Is it true you were subdued to torture when you were an adolescent?” Rei’s question hit him like a physical blow. In that instant, his grip on the coffee cup faltered, sending it tumbling from his hands. The shards of warm coffee scattered across his palms as a rush of memories and shame crashed through him. 

“What?” he spluttered, his breaths coming in sharp, rapid bursts. Shock and old pain warred behind his eyes.

Endeavor, unruffled, remarked dryly, “that is not how we agreed about asking him.” He even picked his nose nonchalantly, as if the subject were trivial.

“So it’s true.” She says, softer now. “Pardon me, for being too straightforward. Shouto’s eighteenth birthday was last week, he’s on the direct line to inherit Endeavor’s agency once he graduates. It’s all kinda blurry for the moment, but he isn’t sure if he wants to inherit the agency, considering… everything. He mentioned the Commission offered extra courses to specialise in certain areas. Like a master’s degree. Well, Enji refused.” Hawks looks at Endeavor, who holds his gaze, showing no regrets. “In private he told me certain… rumours that go around Commission training. I had my reservations.” 

Hawks’s gaze shifted between the two adults. He caught the steely resolve in Endeavor’s eyes, and for a moment, the weight of his own past pressed down on him. “You had no right,” he spat bitterly, not referring to Shouto, but to the intrusion into his personal history.

Endeavor’s tone hardens “I do have the right. He’s our son, and I worry. I am not better because I trained Shouto from an early age too, just like it happened to you, but I still had some preservation left.” 

Rei’s voice, quiet yet insistent, continues, “I thought it’d be better to ask a trusted friend.” Even as she speaks, Hawks senses her determination—like Endeavor’s—to protect what little innocence remained in their children.

Offering them seats at his cluttered kitchen table, Hawks settles into the role of the reluctant host. He knows why Endeavor did what he did. If he had a child, he wouldn’t want him to associate with the Commission in any way. He’s aware of what other heroes say about the HPCS, after all. 

“UA is just a highschool.” He explains. “So the Commission does offer certain courses of specialization, like a university would. Medical support. Rescue. Battle tactic. Strategy. International studies. They are short livid. A year at most. He won’t have to go through anything… harder.”

“So it’s true,” Endeavor says. “You were subdued to major training when you were a child.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Hawks shots back, his voice tinged with a bitterness that is as much about his own scars as it’s about criticism. Though his expression remains guarded, his eyes flash with memories he’d long tried to keep hidden.

“ ‘You don’t go to the Commission, the Commission finds you.’ ” Endeavor says. “Every hero will hear these words at least once.” 

“The programs I mentioned are public—little Shouto can apply if he wants,” Hawks continued, trying to steer the conversation back to practicality.

“And the other programs?” Rei asks coolly. “Because there are other programs.” 

“Shouto’s quirk doesn’t qualify him for the secret programs, and he must be of age to apply to the others. They’re entirely separate from the regular Commission training, if that’s your concern.”

“Do you have direct knowledge of what’s happening inside the programs Shouto can choose?” Rei asks. 

Hawks’ voice comes out low. “No. Not really. I never took one of those before.” 

“It’s decided then,” Rei’s cold attitude doesn’t give away her opinions. Everytime he sees her she’s the same stoic, tranquil woman he’s alway known. “We won’t support Shouto’s further studies.” 

“Wait—” Hawks tries to interject, a part of him desperate to ease her fears, even though he knows they are well thought. “That’s not solely your decision.”

“I know,” she says, “but I cannot support something that could potentially hurt my child even more.” 

A bitter chuckle escaped Hawks. “Really?” His tone wasn’t mocking, just heavy with the irony of past mistakes and present regrets. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.” Rei interrupts gently. “I am well aware of our past mistakes as parents. However, we are trying our best to not make more.”

Hawks doesn’t know what to say next. 

Then Endeavor’s voice cut through the tension. “Just answer me something,” he says. “There are rumors about Commission training—you know this. In the past thirty years, only you and Lady Nagant have been known as Commission heroes, and she is a known deflector of the Commission. I just want to know—did you ever go under SD?”

The Stillness Doctrine—the grim method to endure pain by remaining motionless—loomed in Hawks’s mind. He turned abruptly, putting at use his training to avoid this exact same scenario.

“You know I can’t say that.” In one swift motion, he slices into a piece of the blueberry cake, the vivid blue frosting a stark contrast to his dark thoughts. In a fleeting, almost guilty moment, he wishes Dabi was there to shut his stupid dad. “You know I can’t,” he repeats, his voice strained.

Endeavor’s gaze wanders over the sparse apartment, but his question hangs heavy in the air. Hawks feels the absence of personal mementos more acutely now.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Endeavor summarized, “We won’t support Shouto’s studies then.”

“That’s fine by me.” 

Over a shared cup of coffee, the subject shifts to Shouto’s future—a future that might shine brighter if only they could defy the weight of legacy. Hawks’s mind races: administering Endeavor’s agency might jeopardize his hero career and public image, a risk that even the inheritance law couldn’t fully mitigate. Yet in his heart, he knew that change was inevitable. Endeavor does too, but Rei thinks Shouto could change its name, turning it into something of his own. He’d be in charge after all. 

When his guests finally leave—after a second cup of coffee and a final pause in front of the statue of Kannon—Rei smiles and says, “you should get her some incense.”

*

He doesn’t expect Dabi at his door at one in the morning. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Are you hurt? You didn’t kill anyone on your way here, did ya?” 

“Were my parents here today?” He asks. They already moved to the living room 

“Yeah, they wanted to talk about… Shouto.” 

“Okay,” he says, a little more at ease. “Are you okay?” 

Hawks knows he mentioned it—ever so carefully—what the Commission did to him during his infiltration on the league. It was a piece of the puzzle meant to earn Dabi’s trust, or at least to feign it. Still, he doesn't know how he got ear of the meeting he had with his parents. Maybe he heard something, or maybe they talked about him. He doesn’t have a lot of energy to rationalise it. 

“Excellent.” He says truly. 

In the soft darkness of his apartment, he lets himself indulge in a quiet fantasy: that the past month of shared family dinners, late-night talks, and unintentional closeness hasn’t altered him. Yet as he nestles against Dabi on the couch, he can’t ignore the subtle stirring inside him—a feeling he dares not name.

“I heard Nagant is leaving prison,” Dabi remarks, his tone light despite the gravity behind the news.

“She is. In a few weeks, she’ll be just a civilian. I’m helping her find a non-hero job,” Hawks explains, his words matter-of-fact. “I’m thinking of modeling, considering she worked on that once.”

“Pff, give her something off the screen. Don’t be an ass.” Dabi chuckles. The sound going directly to his guts.

Dabi’s fingers wander through his hair, a tender caress that sends a quiet thrill racing through him. The familiar scent of Dabi’s perfume fills his senses, drawing him in even deeper.

"Happy birthday by the way," Hawks murmurs. The caress on his hair making him sleepy again 

Dabi chuckles. "Thanks"

They spend a moment in total silence. Hawks can feel Dabi’s chest going up and down as he breaths. 

“You’re taking that damn job, aren’t you?” Dabi asks, attempting levity.

“Yeah, I’m taking the job.” 

Neither admits it aloud, but in the gentle closeness of the early morning, every touch and whispered word speaks of a love they’re both too guarded to name.