Chapter Text
The universe was fucking with Hawks. It simply had to be. That was the only explanation for why, on the first night of the week he was actually going to get more than 4 hours of sleep, he was woken up in the middle of the night by his phone ringing. He smacked his bedside drawer groggily, searching for the infernal device, then frowned when he saw the caller ID. Why was Shouto calling him?
Hawks had poached little Shouto from Endeavour for his internship a few weeks ago and honestly? He really liked the kid. Shouto was this bizarre, enigmatic combination of endearingly naïve and impressively shrewd that meant that Hawks could never gauge what the kid did or didn’t know. One time, Hawks had offered to let him and Tokoyami go home early because it was pissing rain, but when he’d used the phrase “raining cats and dogs,” Shouto gave him a bemused look and said, completely unironically, that
“No, it’s raining water.”
Hawks had nearly bit his tongue clean in half trying to hold back a coo at Shouto’s embarrassed expression when Tokoyami had put a kind hand on his elbow and explained that it was just a figure of speech.
Another time, his interns had been trailing him while he chased a surprisingly fast purse snatcher down an alley. When Hawks had glanced behind him, he’d seen Tokoyami hot on his heels, but no Shouto. He’d figured the kid had fallen too far behind to see, or gave up the chase altogether, and resolved to have a firm but gentle conversation about Shouto’s ability to keep up with him when the other end of the alley lit up a brilliant orange and Shouto dropped from a fire escape directly on top of the perp. When Hawks had asked later how exactly Shouto had managed that trick, the kid just shrugged and said,
“I knew a shortcut,” then refused to elaborate on the matter.
So the fact that Shouto was calling him at three in the morning? It could have been a real emergency, but it was just as likely that Shouto genuinely didn’t know that 3 a.m was an inappropriate time to call someone for a chat and Hawks wouldn’t know which it was unless he answered. What he did know, though, was that he would die if something happened to the kid and he had a chance to stop it but didn’t take it. Hawks picked up the phone.
“Shouto-kun? What’s the matter?”
“I’m going to send you a location. Get here as soon as you can.”
Hawks sat up, feathers going sharp. What the fuck? Why was Dabi calling Hawks from Shouto’s phone? Dabi hadn’t called Hawks from his own phone since that mess with the new nomu the other week and Hawks had been starting to think that he had completely fucked the mission. He was a little torn between being glad that Dabi hadn’t decided he didn’t believe Hawks’ whole “everything I do is for the league” line and freaking out because there was no way Dabi wasn’t up to something. He had tried to murder Shouto’s father on live television one week ago; Hawks doubted they were best buddies.
“Dabi!? Where’s Shouto? Why do you have his phone? What—”
“Don’t argue with me, birdbrain, just get here.”
Hawks couldn't help the incredulous look he shot at his phone, as if Dabi could see him. One, who the fuck did Dabi think he was to order Hawks around like that? And two, of course he was going to have questions when an A-rank villain calls him from the number one hero’s son’s phone in the middle of the night.
“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not gonna just—”
“He fucking got shot, okay!?”
Hawks’ feathers went sharp again, flaring wide and practically shredding his comforter.
"Who?" He knows the answer. Of course he knows the answer, and no amount of wishing is going to make it not so.
“Shouto. He fucking got shot and he’s losing a lot of blood and I obviously can’t take him to the fucking hospital, can you even fucking imagine. I don’t know what to do, Hawks, you have to get here right now ,” then, Dabi did something that really shocked Hawks. He took a shuddering breath and said, “Hawks, please. ”
He was always going to go. That wasn’t even a question. Even if he thought Dabi was screwing with him (which, he kind of, in the back of his mind, thought he might have been, until he said please. If Dabi is saying please, if he’s losing his cool for once, then he’s serious) even then, he’d never take that chance.
“Where are you?” He said.
“Shizuoka city. I’m sending a pin now.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Dabi would like to say, for the record, that it was not his idea for Shouto to come into the city with him and, in fact, he fucking told him not to. He wasn’t in Shizuoka for a social call or some sightseeing, he was there on business. Giran had sent some potential new recruits his way and he would have told him not to bother, because they were always a fucking bust (they were this time too, fucking waste of Dabi's time), but he wasn’t sure if he was going to keep entertaining Hawks, after that shitshow with Hood the week before. He’d actually finished the whole ‘recruiting’ business two days earlier and had spent the rest of his time since then loitering in the city staring at Hawks’ contact, trying to decide whether he should delete it or call him.
It wasn’t that he thought the hero was serious about joining the League. Hawks was so obviously a spy it was almost painful, but Dabi was a little entertained by his act and it was so fun to jerk him around that Dabi couldn’t help wanting to string him along a little longer. Though the Hood incident had been a fucking fiasco and he was still pissed at the hero for bringing fucking Endeavour, of all the heroes he could have chosen (Touya would never be free of him) , Dabi had to admit that it was a little bit worth it to see Hawks finally drop the ‘happy-go-lucky dumbass’ routine and show him something real.
That was why Dabi was hesitating to cut the hero loose already; that moment in a dingy warehouse, Hawks still covered in sweat and grime from the fight, the steely look in his eyes as he held a sword to Dabi’s neck. As though he was genuinely contemplating slitting his throat right then and there. Would he have done it? If not for whoever was pulling the hero’s strings, would he have said fuck it and murdered Dabi? Has he done it before? Or would Dabi have been his first? (He wasn’t sure which option was more tantalising: that he would be the one to finally get the squeaky clean number two hero’s hands dirty, or that Hawks had already long since crossed that line, by choice or by force, before he ever even met Dabi)
Anyway, the point was that Dabi was in Shizuoka on business. But Toga, the traitor, had apparently told Shouto that Dabi was in the area and the kid had called him, begging for them to meet. Ordinarily, he would have told the kid no and hung up, he fucking should have told him no, but the League had been in Kobe for the past three weeks and Shouto had neither the time nor money to be getting the train down every time he wanted to see them. So when Shouto heard that Dabi was back in Shizuoka, he had wanted to see him and had known how to hit every one of Dabi’s weaknesses to make that happen.
“Touya-nii, it’s lonely without you, I miss you,”
And even though Dabi had fucking told Shouto not to call him that (it was fucking dangerous, what if someone overheard and figured them out? Call him paranoid, but Dabi couldn’t risk that. Not to mention that it made his heart constrict like he was going into cardiac arrest ), he couldn’t help it that he had a soft spot for the kid a mile wide and Shouto knew it. He was going to have to carve out that damn spot like it was one of those gross little stems that grew on potatoes, because if Dabi wasn’t such a fucking little bitch that couldn’t figure out how to say no to his little brother then he wouldn’t be in this situation.
“Touya,” Shouto whined, “it hurts. ”
Dabi couldn’t give less of a shit about the name thing if he tried.
“I know, Shou, I know.”
He pressed his hands against Shouto’s side harder. The bleeding had slowed a little, thank god, but Shouto was still losing too much blood to be safe. If Hawks didn’t get there soon, Dabi was probably going to have to see if he could use his quirk to cauterise the wound somehow.
Dabi had moved so that Shouto was leaning back against his chest because the kid kept trying to push his hands away. Like he was doing right now.
“Touya.”
“Shou, stop it.”
“It hurts.”
“Of course it hurts, dumbass, you got shot.”
“But you’re pressing it.”
Dabi cast his eyes to the heavens. Every time Shouto opened his mouth, it was a coin toss as to whether he was going to say something shockingly insightful and poetic or make you think he’d just been lobotomised.
“I’m pressing it so you don’t fucking bleed to death. Is that what you want? Huh? You want me to let go and leave you here to fucking die in an alleyway?”
Shouto was quiet for a moment.
“No,” he said eventually. Shit. He was starting to cry, Dabi could hear it in his voice. The kid sniffled.
Goddamn it. Get it together, Dabi.
Dabi hadn’t meant to scare him, and he sure as shit wasn’t trying to make him cry, he was just…he was fucking terrified. There was a nonzero chance that Shouto was going to die in this alley if Hawks didn’t get there soon and that was fucking scary, okay? His little brother was bleeding out in his arms and—other than calling the fucking number two hero who was maybe going to try to murder him last week—there was nothing he could do. But he couldn’t think about that right now.
“I’m sorry, Shou. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m staying right here, okay?”
Shouto didn’t respond. The steady rise and fall of Shouto’s abdomen under his hands was the only thing stopping Dabi from immediately losing it.
“Shou, you gotta talk to me, kid. I need to know you’re still awake. Okay?”
“...okay.”
Oh. He was crying now. Really, properly crying. Dabi could feel him trembling against his chest. He decided to do Shouto the courtesy of not acknowledging it and instead pressed his face to the nape of Shouto’s neck.
“It’s gonna be okay, Shou, alright? Hawks is going to be here any second and he’s going to get you to a hospital and it’ll all be fine, okay?”
Shouto nodded limply. Dabi opened his mouth again, to say what, he didn’t quite know, when he heard it. Wingbeats. He leaned further against Shouto and sighed.
“Hear that, kid? Your hero’s here.”
He was surprised to feel Shouto tense against him. Yeah, it was probably going to be mad awkward trying to explain this whole entire mess—how Shouto got shot, what either of them were even doing in the city, what they were doing in the city together, how they even knew each other—but Dabi still thought that Shouto would be at least a little relieved to see Hawks. The kid was stupidly fond of him even though Dabi had told him not to get attached. Shouto was always fucking gushing about the hero—as much as someone with a voice that monotone could gush about anything—always telling Dabi about whatever incredible, daring, fantastic, majestic feat of ariel acrobatics Hawks had performed on patrol, or how nice he was, even when gently scolding Shouto, or how—even though their quirks were completely different—Hawks had some ‘really useful’ tips on maneuverability and managing his speed (Dabi wouldn’t admit it, but the fact that Shouto liked Hawks so much was another reason was finding it so hard to end his little game with the hero).
Dabi had to say, he was honestly kind of impressed that Hawks had gotten to them so quickly. Sure, he knew the hero was still in Shizuoka prefecture, but the shinkansen from Musutafu was a half hour, and that was already really fast. Dabi knew Hawks was fast, but was he seriously that fast? Not like it particularly mattered at the moment. Dabi wasn’t going to look a gift bird in the mouth.
“Shouto-kun!” The wind from Hawks’ wings ruffled Dabi’s hair as he touched down and dropped into a crouch in front of them. He didn’t even look at Dabi, instead giving Shouto a reassuring smile. “Hey there chicklet, I heard you got in a little trouble, huh?”
“Yeah,” Shouto said weakly. He sniffled and scrubbed his face with both hands. Probably didn’t want Hawks to see him crying, if he hadn’t already noticed. “It hurts.”
Hawks chuckled at that.
“I’ll bet it does. You mind if I take a look?”
Shouto shook his head and Dabi took his hands away from the wound. If Hawks noticed the way they trembled, he didn’t say anything, just pushed Shouto’s shirt up to see the gunshot.
“Alright,” he said cheerily, “well, it looks pretty good, as far as gunshot wounds go. Doesn’t seem like it hit anything major, and it’s not bleeding too much, at least not anymore. So I’m just going to clean it and apply some gauze and we’ll see about getting you to a hospital. How’s that sound?”
Shouto nodded. Hawks took out a first aid kit that Dabi hadn’t noticed and produced a small squeeze bottle filled with a clear liquid.
“You remember this, right, Shouto-kun? From patrol the other day?” He looked up at Shouto expectantly.
“Yeah, I remember.” Shouto turned his head slightly. “We stopped an armed robbery last week,” he was speaking to Dabi. Hawks’ eyes flicked over Shouto’s shoulder, but he otherwise didn’t acknowledge him. “One of the robbers pushed a little girl down and she scraped her knee. Hawks had me rinse the wound with saline, then disinfect and apply a bandage. He said I had a very good bedside manner."
“You did.” Hawks smiled at him indulgently. Shouto whimpered when Hawks started packing the wound with gauze and tried to push him away. Dabi reached up and held onto Shouto’s wrists.
“Stop it ,” he said, trying to be as firm as he could without being mean. Hawks gave him another look but kept quiet. “I know it hurts, but we have to stop the bleeding. Okay?”
Shouto whimpered again but nodded.
“All done!” Hawks chirped. He grabbed Shouto’s right hand and pressed it against the gauze. (Dabi noticed, abruptly, that he was wearing his gloves from his hero costume, which was weird because he was in a hoodie and sweatpants. Why the hell would he take the time to put on his fucking gloves, of all things?)
“Now, Shouto-kun, I need you to keep your hand right here, alright? Can you do that for me?” Shouto nodded and when Hawks pulled away he winced but didn’t move his hand. “There you go,” he cooed.
Hawks grabbed Shouto’s other arm and draped it around his neck and helped him stand up. Shouto groaned and listed sideways and Hawks put a hand on his waist to steady him. Dabi got to his feet in a very calm, nonchalant manner that could not be described as scrambling. He was a fucking A-rank villain, he did not scramble.
“You ready?” Hawks asked Shouto softly. Shouto tucked his head into the hero’s shoulder and nodded. Hawks got a hand under his knees and picked him up bridal style. He spared Dabi one final, fleeting glance before spreading his wings and taking off.
It occurred to Dabi, when Hawks was no more than a speck in the sky, that the hero hadn’t directly engaged with him once while patching Shouto up.
Dabi slumped against the wall and stared at his hands. They were soaked in Shouto’s blood.