I have a trade for you. Meet up in the usual place in thirty minutes.
[ Sure, it was a last-minute message to the bird, but Hawks is too fast for his own good and Dabi knows he'll come running like the loyal little dog he pretends to be. Like Dabi doesn't know what he truly is. He just needs to shove some useless intel down that throat and more promises to be allowed to meet Shigaraki, and Hawks will drop whatever shit he's up to to come see him.
It's a nice little power to have.
The alley is dark and empty, another perfect meeting spot in the warehouse district. He likes this place - no dumpsters full of rotting food or bums, and mostly private aside from a few workers passing by now and then. Dabi lazily lights up a cigarette as he waits, leaning back against the wall. Like he's not a villain about to meet the number 2 pro hero. ]
( It's been a long couple of days. The physical the commission puts him through regularly is time consuming and exhausting, and he can think of so many places he would have preferred to be or things he would have much rather been doing. But at least it's over now until the next one in a few months. The only reminder of his long day yesterday is the ache at his hip from a couple of booster shots they'd jabbed into his hip.
That and the strange fog in his head.
Hawks tries to stay busy, preparing for a meeting later with Endeavor to discuss another team up and working in the other man's turf for a few weeks. Still, his thoughts keep wandering as he throws a few things into his bag for the night. He thinks about the man's hands, the hard lines of those muscles you can see through his suit... It's all very frustrating and leaves his body humming, desperate for contact and attention. He doesn't realize he's reaching for the lube until he's too far gone, gripping hard at his sheets. But he catches himself with the thought that he can't do something like that over Endeavor and the sudden message on his phone is enough to ground him.
At least he hopes so.
Meeting with Dabi clears his thoughts long enough for him to finish packing his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He doesn't even think about it when he pockets his lube. He flicks his glasses into place and pulls his headphones on as he pushes off the railing of the balcony to take off. The cool night air feels amazing against his skin. And he thinks maybe getting out of his apartment is what he needed to clear his thoughts.
The journey to meet Dabi is quick, and he lands quietly at the end of the alley where he can smell the cigarette the villain is no doubt smoking. The dim light of the end of his cigarette confirms that as he walks forward, hands at his side, but his senses on alert. )
You're ruining my evening, you know.
( There's a strange lack of heat to his words. And now that he's stopped moving, he can feel the warmth starting to crawl over his skin. Without thinking he reaches up, one gloved finger hooking into the collar of his shirt to give it a slight tug. He doesn't even realize the way he's tilting his head, offering a view of the partly covered neck. His gaze trails over Dabi instinctively, and instead of his usual concerns of weapons or tricks, he can't stop imagining what he might look like under that shirt. How much he'd feel if Hawks...
The golden eyes snap back to the other's gaze. )
What do you have for me?
( He doesn't realize he's giving on a strange scent, oozing pheromones' into the air they're sharing. )
[ The quiet wings means Dabi isn't fully aware of Hawks' presence until the damn bird heads down the alley, and he gives the blonde a look as he seems to be fidgeting oddly. He wasn't quite his common flawless, irritating self tonight? He almost seems a little flustered, and that draws a grin from those scarred lips. ]
Stealing you from some hot date, number 2?
[ He teases, and then he takes another drag from his cigarette before it disappears in a light flare of flame. Moving closer, he takes the manila folder from his coat - slowly, of course. He doesn't feel like getting feather-stabbed this evening. ]
Some fake info to spread, Shigaraki wants the heroes busy while we move hideouts.
[ Holding it out to Hawks, that's when the villain picks up the odd scent coming from the hero. It smells... good?. There's a slight curve of a brow, blue eyes - so very similar to Endeavor's - giving the hero a once-over. ]
( It's thoughtless the way he tugs further at his collar, pulls it down to flash more of the smooth skin with the way his head is tilted. His attention is drawn to Dabi's lips, the way he speaks, and there's this damning thought of what they might feel like against his own, against his skin. But he snaps out of it after a second, dropping his hand to his side with a quiet sigh. )
Something like that. Jealous?
( There's an edge to his words - not the usual sharpness, but something else. Teasing, like he's trying to lure Dabi in somehow. And the way those dark lashes flutter over those golden eyes is an unconscious attempt to gather more attention. The way his gaze drops to follow the other's hand as it disappears into his coat, but the way his attention lingers says he's distracted. Curious once more about what's under that coat and shirt.
He takes the folder, though, and that's a welcome distraction from the perverse way his thoughts are spiraling. He flips through the folder as its handed to him, and he tilts his head without thinking, offer a view of the line of his throat again, the way the dark fabric hugs his skin. )
I don't wear cologne.
( It gives you away when you're trying to be stealthy. Can leave a trail behind. Not that he says that to Dabi. But for a moment his attention is fixed on those blue eyes. There's something familiar about those blue eyes, and he's not sure if it's that familiarity or something else that makes his heat burn low in his gut.
The golden eyes lift from the folder, and when he speaks again, that teasing edge is there as his wings move, opening just the slightest. Almost like he's putting himself on display further. )
Are you leaving me? That hurts.
( There's a sudden thought, what the hell are you doing? But it doesn't last, his attention focused on the other man. But it's different, missing the edge of suspicion and instead replaced with something else. )
[ The villain frowns again, not sure what the fuck kind of game the bird is playing today. The signals are all over the damn place the tone is mixed up. Taking a step closer, Dabi eyes the baring of that throat with suspicion. Hawks wants him to look, and it only reminds him of a dog submitting.
It's inviting and weird in one. Jealous? Leaving him? It sounded so strange from those lips. This wasn't the normal sharp-edged mind he talked to, and it seemed more... instinctively?
...especially when those wings poof out a bit more. Was this some kind of fucking bird thing? ]
Oi, What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you on something?
( Dabi is looking at him. There's something strangely appealing about knowing he's gotten that particular bit of attention, and his wings fluff briefly with the small victory. He can't put his finger on why such a small thing makes his pulse flutter, but it does. And he must be an idiot for wanting more.
Normally, Dabi stepping closer would be suspicious. It would make Hawks stand his ground and make a gesture to show he'd fight back if the villain made a move. But instead, he's drawn towards the other man as he steps forward, taking a step forward of his own. Like a moth drawn to a flame. There's another tilt of his head, just enough to properly let their eyes meet as he lifts his visor up to perch them on top of his head instead. A soft, short huff of a laugh leaves him, but there's no anger or sharpness behind it. But there's an unusual lightness to it. )
You almost sound worried, that's cute.
( One brow goes up curiously, and the hand on his visor drops slowly. It stops at his collar again, gloved fingertips trailing over the yellow lines of his top. And his hand trails down his chest slowly, trying to draw another bit of attention from the villain. His eyes never leave Dabi's. )
You really think I'd tell you if something was wrong?
[ Yeah, something was definitely off. It was easy to see as soon as he moved forward. The tension, the sharpening of a few feathers isn't there at all. Instead of stepping back to keep their distance the same, Hawks comes closer.
Oh, yeah. This was definitely interesting.
A small smirk grows on the villain's face, and he wonders what kind of shit was running through those veins - and where he'd gotten it. A fight? Accident? Or did he take something and then had his trip interrupted by his message? ]
No, you wouldn't. But the way you're acting right now... I'm almost waiting for you to do some kind of mating dance.
[ Hawks wants him to look, wants his attention and holds his gaze like that. He wants something. So just to fluster him, Dabi runs his tongue over his own lip and winks. ]
Didn't know you were into me, feathers. Or are you just showing off for anyone today?
( That small smirk does something to Hawks. It makes his pulse flutter again, and the heat that simmers under his veins feels hotter. Hawks has learned the planes of Dabi's face and neck after seeing him up close from their meetings, but there's something different about it now. Everything from the intensity of those blue eyes to the curve of his lips has Hawks desperate for attention.
He doesn't even realize he's taking another step closer, moving his hand from his own body towards Dabi's. The motion is slow, but there's no denying the intent there as the gloved hand lands on the other man's chest. There's no threat, only a plea for closeness he can't understand why he needs so badly. He breathes out slowly, and when Dabi speaks, those narrow pupils widen briefly before constricting again as he continues watching the villain. Watching the way that tongue runs over his lip. )
Are you going to pretend you're not?
( Into him, he means. Hawks won't - can't - entertain the thought of where this all is coming from. He's not sure what's more distressing - being attracted to Dabi or being ready to get on his knees for the first person to look his way.
Either way, his hand moves slowly, trails down the clothed chest. Trying to lure Dabi in. )
[ Hawks steps even closer. He even reaches out to put a hand on Dabi's chest, thankfully missing the more sensitive areas and placing it over a few staples instead. Then those pretty eyes do that cat thing again - or should it be bird-thing? Raptor? - and all Dabi can think is that the other man is losing his precious fucking control.
Oh. Oh. This was going to be fun, wasn't it? ]
Not into you? I have eyes, birdbrain. [ He bares his teeth in a dangerous grin, reaching out to play with one of those loose, poofy strands of hair. ] Doesn't mean I'm easy for a drugged-up slut.
[ The movement of that hand is stopped by a heated one, but he doesn't push the hero away. Instead he puts it on the good area of his chest, underneath the ratty, loose shirt. ]
( The folder he'd been flipping through drops to the ground, and it only takes a few seconds for his free hand to pull the strap of his bag off and let it fall as well. Hawks's attention still never leaves Dabi, and he finds himself tilting his head towards the warmth of the hand that plays with his hair. Eager for the warmth the villain gives off, desperate for the attention he's starting to give.
Whatever rational part of his mind that would have reacted properly to the danger behind that grin is gone, and all that's there is a desperate need that makes his skin itch for attention, wings trembling slightly behind him. He can't even wrap his mind around the idea that Dabi is insulting him, toying with him. All he can bring himself to think is that he can get what he wants if he plays along.
He steps closer still, enough that his lips can brush the edge of Dabi's jaw as his hand is guided under that shirt. His fingers spread across the warm skin, damning the material of the glove that's separating him from the skin underneath. The dark flashes flutter as his lips move, trail the line staple across the villain's cheek. )
There's no drugs. ( He doesn't know what's happening, can't even vocalize that much. But his brain is too fixated on the idea of touching Dabi and coaxing him into returning the attention. That's the thought that fuels his hand as it trails down the other man's chest, his other hand dipping under the edge of Dabi's shirt to finger the hem of his pants. )
Touch me. However you want.
( It's a dangerous request, one he'd never make if he were in his right mind. But all he can think of now is that those words can only promise good things. )
[ The folder falls to the ground, and the villain watches it with smirk. No drugs, the dumb bastard says. Then he's just losing his damn mind.
Dabi wonders what kind of scheme this was. Did they switch him from spy to honeypot? Why not wait until meeting Shigaraki and get into that guys pants instead? Nothing made sense, but the villain isn't paranoid enough to leave. Not when he can get a taste of Hawks.
He's still human, and the other man is infuriatingly gorgeous.
As the blonde steps further into his space and then starts touching him, he finally returns the gesture by sliding his other around the other man's waist. The feeling of lips against his jaw are dulled by the scars, but the reaction is still a soft intake of breath. It was not the place he would have guessed someone to go for, and especially not when they wander over his staples there.
Dabi tightens his fingers a bit in Hawks' hair. It's too intimate, and he has to pull the hero off to look him in the eyes instead. ]
Fine, we'll play. Get on your fucking knees.
[ Getting his dick sucked in an alley was a lot less emotionally loaded. ]
there is a surprising amount of art of hawks and dabi having kids lmao
( The hand that slides around his waist is welcome, and Hawks lets out a soft, approving sound against Dabi's skin as they continue to skim the line of staples. And that soft intake of breath he manages to get out of the other man has his wings trembling again, delighted by even the smallest bit of sound. A sound that says Dabi isn't going to push him away just yet.
He isn't opposed to the tightened grip in his hair, but being pulled away earns a low, frustrated sound in the back of his throat. Even so, the bright eyes meet Dabi's, and his pupils are blown wide, a tell of just how badly he wants whatever is happening here.
So when he's told to get on his knees, there's only a second of hesitation. There's a look in those gold eyes that wants to rebel, that recognizes what he's doing is far from a good idea. But it only lasts for that second before he's sinking smoothly to his knees. His hands move, lips parting to bite at the fingertip of one glove to pull it off before doing the same to the other. As he does, those golden eyes don't leave Dabi. Their gaze only breaks as he leans in, nuzzling his cheek against the crotch of Dabi's pants, hands resting on the man's thighs. )
[ Dabi sees those red wings quiver, and he makes a note of keeping track on how they behave more closely in the future. Hawks really seems to have lost his iron hold on his reactions.
The frustrated sound from the hero is almost cute, but the fact that he actually does as told is what makes Dabi's dick finally react fully. Those eyes stay on him as he watches the blonde sink to his knees and take his gloves off in the most showy way possible. It's hot and makes him annoyed in one, ready to stop this... and then Hawks actually rubs his cheek against his crotch.
No, fuck this. This was far beyond some dumb game of he bird's, so he reaches to undo his belt and then his fly. Instead of pulling his pants down or anything, however, he just tugs on his underwear a bit and then slips his cock out through the opening.
Minimal nudity. For now. ]
Alright. I'm sure you know how to do this.
[ His hand grasps at the soft hair again, directing the hero to his dick. It's already starting to fill a bit, rows of barbells decorating the underside. ]
[ It's been days since their... whatever-you-call-it at the party. By the time Tomura had issued all his pleasantries (though they were in reality curt and sometimes rude), Dabi was nowhere to be found, and Tomura was also, by that point, tired enough to retire immediately to his own room. It was exhausting enough to trade a word or two—at the worst manage a whole conversation—with utter strangers, forget trying to navigate an entire discussion about what had happened between Dabi and himself. He barely had the bandwidth to think through it in his own head. It was less stressful to hole up in his bed and grind for virtual critters until he passed out.
Then, what had been intended as a night of avoidance became a day, then two, then a few. Maybe it was just Dabi's fault—maybe it was both of theirs. Tomura, at least, has the inclination to approach it from a simplistic perspective—the kiss felt nice, Dabi is one of the few people he might even come close to liking in his lifetime, and so he's perfectly content with letting the experience stand. It didn't have to be special, or labeled, or even particularly profound (as long as he isn't treated like a hole to get someone's dick wet); it's only a matter of making the present more enjoyable. What he doesn't know is what that translates to in terms of saying something to the other man.
Still, he's beginning to feel targeted by Dabi's lack of presence. He's used to Dabi coming and going as he pleases, like some stray cat, but now Tomura can barely walk into a room without the pyro making for the nearest exit. He couldn't be imagining it—and if he is, then it obviously bothers him more than it should. The obvious response from a socially-stunted shut-in would probably be to pretend it doesn't matter, let the other party break first because he's too anxious or emotionally-constipated to break the ice, but (perhaps fortunately) Tomura is also too impatient and confrontational for such a tactic.
The next time he sees Dabi, it's at the vending machines inside the villa's corridors. He had a craving for snacks he wanted to satiate, but that is soon forgotten when he spots a familiar head of ashen hair snatching his own loot from the machine. The hallway is blessedly empty in the moment, so there's no reason to hold back; Tomura plants himself next to the Dabi, facing him. ]
[ Oh, it's not Tomura's imagination at all - Dabi has been avoiding the other man like the plague after what happened. It's not because of any animosity or regret, though. No, he's trying to figure his absolute mess of a brain out. He overthinks it a lot more than the younger villain, because he started this whole fucking thing on a whim.
He can't allow himself to get invested in the league more than he already is, constantly pushing camaraderie out despite having more decent talks with Jin, cleaning up after Toga's stab fests without being asked and acting like a space heater (if grumpily) in shitty hideouts.
'Caring' about them clashed with his personality so he always told himself he doesn't, but even if he started out joining to use the LOV to further his own goals, he respects Shigaraki's promise for his allies to get everything they wanted. As long as he can make Endeavor pay, he has no further plans beyond that. If he lives... maybe razing everything to the ground is worth staying for.
...yet he doesn't know what to do with this new fucking twinge in his chest that remains after their stupid makeout session, so all he does is stomp it down as far as possibly. It's not an emotion as much as it is somehow feeling less shitty. He has drugs and alcohol for that, he doesn't need some kind of leader-with-benefits deal.
Fuck, it all makes him remember how he used to feel so much as a kid. His feelings were always loud and they made him cry, no matter if he was happy or sad. He cried with joy when his flames changed color and he cried until his tearducts burnt away when his body caught fire alone on Sekoto peak. Now all he could really feel fully was anger, and everything else was kind of muted... so he doesn't know if he can give what Tomura anything while at the same time wanting more.
So he avoids his boss and is extra snappy with everyone. Most people give him a wide berth, and he goes to bother the dumb bird sometimes just to get away from the mansion.
Then, a few days later, a trip to the vending machines for some canned coffee and smokes puts him face to face with that scratched-up man again. He slowly stands and opens the can for a sip. ]
[ The way Dabi reacts is almost casual, with a simple acknowledgment of his presence as he cracks open a can of coffee. Tomura doesn't know what he expected. For Dabi to turn tail and run? Well... maybe, with the way the rest of this week has been going. To Dabi's credit, he doesn't. That complicates the deductive process somewhat, although to begin with Tomura hadn't put much forethought into their next encounter.
For a moment, he says nothing and stares hard at the other man, not bothering to conceal his scrutiny. He searches Dabi's face for any hint of unease or anything—anything that could tell him what was going through that hot head. But Dabi's always been difficult to read, and even if he's been dancing around Tomura's presence for days he could probably still put up a poker face. Tomura narrows his eyes, annoyed.
Dabi still isn't going anywhere though, so after that, Tomura's play is obvious. ]
[ It's an unnecessarily long sip as Dabi considers his options, here. He was hoping that staying away would let this simmer down for him, but not thinking about Tomura's reactions. Of course the guy would wonder what the fuck, and cut straight to it when he finally caught up. ]
Yeah. [ The pyro finally admits, leaning back against the vending machine with a sigh. ] I don't regret it, if that's what's you're thinking. Fuck, no.
[ He deserves to know that much, at least. Knowing that Dabi wasn't out here trying to forget what he did, feeling disgusted about it or anything like that. He liked it, he can't deny that. ]
S'just... [ He sighs, wondering how to phrase this and wishing he could just call the guy a creep and storm off like a petulant teen. Fuck, neither of them really got to even be teens, did they? ] I'm fucked up, you're fucked up and there's a lot of bullshit in my head right now. Didn't feel like dealing with it.
[ He hadn't been thinking that Dabi regretted it—he doesn't know what he thought was going through Dabi's head. Tomura has a difficulty relating to most people in the first place, nevermind in an area he'd never ventured before with a man who usually adamantly keeps his deeper thoughts to himself. The reassurance does soothe his annoyance though—at least for a moment. ]
You were avoiding me because of that?
[ His frown returns. It seems so trivial to him—the nature of what they did is simple in his mind—and maybe he thought it would be the same for Dabi as well. Tomura is quite aware of the possibility that Dabi has his flings, so what reason could there be to overcomplicate an occasional indulgence with him? He doesn't understand it, which leads to him putting it as bluntly as possible: ]
[ The coffee can is a good thing to concentrate on while he tries to figure out his words and his head. It's wholly alien to him that his anger isn't at the forefront of his messy emotional registry right now.
It reminds Dabi of questions and thoughts that make his eyes bleed. ]
I don't do well with... attachments. [ He shrugs slightly. ] At the same time I want to do it again.
[ Weird, how he can open his mouth and things that he hasn't even fully realized himself just drops out. That's what he wants, isn't it? He wants to kiss the other man again and it's fucking him up inside because he can't make this more. He's a fucking sociopath, for fuck's sake. ]
What do you want? 'Cuz if you give me a while, I'll deal with it and we'll be back to square one.
[ "Doesn't do well with attachments." Well, that much was obvious even without Dabi saying it. The second part of that statement is decidedly more unexpected, and for a moment Tomura's eyes widen; he doesn't know if it's the desire or the admission that surprises him—perhaps both. Living life as the embodiment of destruction yields very little anticipation that anyone might want anything to do with him that isn't locking him up and throwing away the key, and yet Dabi is here, admitting to wanting something else.
Something shudders between his ribs, and suddenly he thinks he understands a little better what Dabi is agonizing over. Only, he doesn't have to dwell on it. He dismisses the feeling, like he's dismissed every instance of feeling and thought and belief he'd deemed unneeded before. The quickest way to kill something in one's head is not to let it exist at all, and thinking it through is unnecessary for what he's trying to accomplish here.
Yet, the question Dabi asks isn't an easy one. Tomura knows he doesn't want to go back to square one, would hate if they pretended none of this happened. Maybe that's the same as wanting to do it again, but that's not quite his answer. What he wants is... more something he'd forgotten about while he was focused on being annoyed, something that takes up room again as that annoyance dissipates. With Dabi in front of him now, asking him what he wants, that thing manifests like a phantom touch: how he knows Dabi's warmth, the feel of Dabi's hand on his skin, what it's like to touch his face where scars meet healthy skin.
The realization feels disproportionately important. How irritating. He presses his lips together, a small delay to buy himself another moment before locking in his answer, but when he finally speaks, there's no hesitation in his voice. ]
[ He watches Tomura with slightly less guarded expression, one brow lifting slightly as their illustrious leader purses his lips and thinks. Dabi has no idea what's going on in the other man's head, but they're both really damaged people and whatever the answer is, it's going to change them. It doesn't matter that he said he could make it go back to nothing.
Dabi is a liar and he lies a lot to himself, too.
Then the answer comes, and it honestly takes a moment to fully sink in. 'I want to touch you.' Fuck, he wants to be touched, too. The pyro takes another sip of his coffee and then throws it away (in a bin next to the vending machine, he's not a monster). ]
Alright. Not here, though. Somewhere private so we don't get fuckin' interrupted again.
[ Tomura had thought there might be more hesitation, even with his answer, but Dabi just agrees, and maybe things are as simple as that. His expression softens, and someone observant enough might just catch the slight smile tilting the corners of his mouth. He nods. ]
Your room?
[ If anyone comes looking for him, they would knock on his door first. He doubts anyone would want to bother Dabi. ]
[ Honestly Dabi surprised himself with how quickly he agreed, too, but... that's what he wanted, isn't it? That's what this mess is all about, that he wants this and can't deal with that properly. It's almost funny. Almost.
That softer look lessens his tension a bit, and his sharp eyes catches the very slight hint of a smile. It's been a while since their leader has looked in any way happy, so that makes a part of him pleased. ]
My room.
[ The pyro agrees and nods his head in that direction. Hands in his coat pockets, easy gait and quiet while they head up to the rooms the rest of the League were given. Dabi had taken the one in the corner without allowing any damn janken play for it, because it had a balcony.
It clicks open with a key card that always makes him think they're in a damn hotel, and he swings it open. His room is dark and slightly messy, with hints of scorch marks here and there. There's a full ashtray on a table, surrounded by various beer cans and a half-empty bottle of Fireball. Blister-packs of pills can be seen on the nightstand and some bloody towels are shoved in a corner.
At least his bed seems clean, even if the pillow is stained gray from his cheap, shitty brand of hairdye. ]
Alright. Now it's just us.
[ Dabi says as the lock clicks behind him, a little more heat allowed in his voice. ]
[ He follows Dabi into the room. He doesn't hide his curiosity once he's in, but his scan of the surroundings is relatively quick and slightly hampered by the dim lighting. There's enough to make out the silhouettes of bottles and cans, some other pieces of garbage, but the room seems otherwise to be—well—like a hotel room. A bit impersonal, sparse on individualistic touches.
It's fitting for Dabi's usual detachment, but the man is far from detached right now. Tomura smirks this time when he hears the heat in those words, and turns from his observation of the room to face Dabi again. He takes a step into Dabi's space, letting his hands come to rest carefully on the other's chest. He did say he wants to touch.
Leaning in, Tomura presses close in an almost-kiss, his lips just brushing against Dabi's. ]
What do you want to do? [ Equally a tease and an opening for him to take the lead. ]
[ He hangs off his coat on a somewhat bent hook on the inside of the door and then looks at Tomura as the other man turns to face him. That confidence is hot, and so are the lips so close to his own. Those words make Dabi's own lips quirk in a smirk and his blue eyes meet red.
Oh, he likes this. ]
I want you to touch me. [ Like it had been a promise rather than a request. ] ...and I want to kiss you again.
[ He could have leaned in and claimed those lips, but instead he reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt off with the practiced ease of someone that needs to drunkenly crash in a bed as quickly as possible rather than a sex fiend.
Either way, it bares all those scars on his chest for Tomura, allowing his boss places to touch. The staples there are fresh, which might explain the bloody towels in the corner. It's healed enough to not bleed, so touching shouldn't be an issue. In fact, it looks better than some of his other areas.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Scrambled Eggs
[ Sure, it was a last-minute message to the bird, but Hawks is too fast for his own good and Dabi knows he'll come running like the loyal little dog he pretends to be. Like Dabi doesn't know what he truly is. He just needs to shove some useless intel down that throat and more promises to be allowed to meet Shigaraki, and Hawks will drop whatever shit he's up to to come see him.
It's a nice little power to have.
The alley is dark and empty, another perfect meeting spot in the warehouse district. He likes this place - no dumpsters full of rotting food or bums, and mostly private aside from a few workers passing by now and then. Dabi lazily lights up a cigarette as he waits, leaning back against the wall. Like he's not a villain about to meet the number 2 pro hero. ]
no subject
That and the strange fog in his head.
Hawks tries to stay busy, preparing for a meeting later with Endeavor to discuss another team up and working in the other man's turf for a few weeks. Still, his thoughts keep wandering as he throws a few things into his bag for the night. He thinks about the man's hands, the hard lines of those muscles you can see through his suit... It's all very frustrating and leaves his body humming, desperate for contact and attention. He doesn't realize he's reaching for the lube until he's too far gone, gripping hard at his sheets. But he catches himself with the thought that he can't do something like that over Endeavor and the sudden message on his phone is enough to ground him.
At least he hopes so.
Meeting with Dabi clears his thoughts long enough for him to finish packing his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He doesn't even think about it when he pockets his lube. He flicks his glasses into place and pulls his headphones on as he pushes off the railing of the balcony to take off. The cool night air feels amazing against his skin. And he thinks maybe getting out of his apartment is what he needed to clear his thoughts.
The journey to meet Dabi is quick, and he lands quietly at the end of the alley where he can smell the cigarette the villain is no doubt smoking. The dim light of the end of his cigarette confirms that as he walks forward, hands at his side, but his senses on alert. )
You're ruining my evening, you know.
( There's a strange lack of heat to his words. And now that he's stopped moving, he can feel the warmth starting to crawl over his skin. Without thinking he reaches up, one gloved finger hooking into the collar of his shirt to give it a slight tug. He doesn't even realize the way he's tilting his head, offering a view of the partly covered neck. His gaze trails over Dabi instinctively, and instead of his usual concerns of weapons or tricks, he can't stop imagining what he might look like under that shirt. How much he'd feel if Hawks...
The golden eyes snap back to the other's gaze. )
What do you have for me?
( He doesn't realize he's giving on a strange scent, oozing pheromones' into the air they're sharing. )
finally home!
Stealing you from some hot date, number 2?
[ He teases, and then he takes another drag from his cigarette before it disappears in a light flare of flame. Moving closer, he takes the manila folder from his coat - slowly, of course. He doesn't feel like getting feather-stabbed this evening. ]
Some fake info to spread, Shigaraki wants the heroes busy while we move hideouts.
[ Holding it out to Hawks, that's when the villain picks up the odd scent coming from the hero. It smells... good?. There's a slight curve of a brow, blue eyes - so very similar to Endeavor's - giving the hero a once-over. ]
Changed out your shitty Hawks-brand cologne, eh?
welcome home !!
Something like that. Jealous?
( There's an edge to his words - not the usual sharpness, but something else. Teasing, like he's trying to lure Dabi in somehow. And the way those dark lashes flutter over those golden eyes is an unconscious attempt to gather more attention. The way his gaze drops to follow the other's hand as it disappears into his coat, but the way his attention lingers says he's distracted. Curious once more about what's under that coat and shirt.
He takes the folder, though, and that's a welcome distraction from the perverse way his thoughts are spiraling. He flips through the folder as its handed to him, and he tilts his head without thinking, offer a view of the line of his throat again, the way the dark fabric hugs his skin. )
I don't wear cologne.
( It gives you away when you're trying to be stealthy. Can leave a trail behind. Not that he says that to Dabi. But for a moment his attention is fixed on those blue eyes. There's something familiar about those blue eyes, and he's not sure if it's that familiarity or something else that makes his heat burn low in his gut.
The golden eyes lift from the folder, and when he speaks again, that teasing edge is there as his wings move, opening just the slightest. Almost like he's putting himself on display further. )
Are you leaving me? That hurts.
( There's a sudden thought, what the hell are you doing? But it doesn't last, his attention focused on the other man. But it's different, missing the edge of suspicion and instead replaced with something else. )
❤
It's inviting and weird in one. Jealous? Leaving him? It sounded so strange from those lips. This wasn't the normal sharp-edged mind he talked to, and it seemed more... instinctively?
...especially when those wings poof out a bit more. Was this some kind of fucking bird thing? ]
Oi, What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you on something?
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Normally, Dabi stepping closer would be suspicious. It would make Hawks stand his ground and make a gesture to show he'd fight back if the villain made a move. But instead, he's drawn towards the other man as he steps forward, taking a step forward of his own. Like a moth drawn to a flame. There's another tilt of his head, just enough to properly let their eyes meet as he lifts his visor up to perch them on top of his head instead. A soft, short huff of a laugh leaves him, but there's no anger or sharpness behind it. But there's an unusual lightness to it. )
You almost sound worried, that's cute.
( One brow goes up curiously, and the hand on his visor drops slowly. It stops at his collar again, gloved fingertips trailing over the yellow lines of his top. And his hand trails down his chest slowly, trying to draw another bit of attention from the villain. His eyes never leave Dabi's. )
You really think I'd tell you if something was wrong?
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Oh, yeah. This was definitely interesting.
A small smirk grows on the villain's face, and he wonders what kind of shit was running through those veins - and where he'd gotten it. A fight? Accident? Or did he take something and then had his trip interrupted by his message? ]
No, you wouldn't. But the way you're acting right now... I'm almost waiting for you to do some kind of mating dance.
[ Hawks wants him to look, wants his attention and holds his gaze like that. He wants something. So just to fluster him, Dabi runs his tongue over his own lip and winks. ]
Didn't know you were into me, feathers. Or are you just showing off for anyone today?
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He doesn't even realize he's taking another step closer, moving his hand from his own body towards Dabi's. The motion is slow, but there's no denying the intent there as the gloved hand lands on the other man's chest. There's no threat, only a plea for closeness he can't understand why he needs so badly. He breathes out slowly, and when Dabi speaks, those narrow pupils widen briefly before constricting again as he continues watching the villain. Watching the way that tongue runs over his lip. )
Are you going to pretend you're not?
( Into him, he means. Hawks won't - can't - entertain the thought of where this all is coming from. He's not sure what's more distressing - being attracted to Dabi or being ready to get on his knees for the first person to look his way.
Either way, his hand moves slowly, trails down the clothed chest. Trying to lure Dabi in. )
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Oh. Oh. This was going to be fun, wasn't it? ]
Not into you? I have eyes, birdbrain. [ He bares his teeth in a dangerous grin, reaching out to play with one of those loose, poofy strands of hair. ] Doesn't mean I'm easy for a drugged-up slut.
[ The movement of that hand is stopped by a heated one, but he doesn't push the hero away. Instead he puts it on the good area of his chest, underneath the ratty, loose shirt. ]
Tell me what you want.
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Whatever rational part of his mind that would have reacted properly to the danger behind that grin is gone, and all that's there is a desperate need that makes his skin itch for attention, wings trembling slightly behind him. He can't even wrap his mind around the idea that Dabi is insulting him, toying with him. All he can bring himself to think is that he can get what he wants if he plays along.
He steps closer still, enough that his lips can brush the edge of Dabi's jaw as his hand is guided under that shirt. His fingers spread across the warm skin, damning the material of the glove that's separating him from the skin underneath. The dark flashes flutter as his lips move, trail the line staple across the villain's cheek. )
There's no drugs. ( He doesn't know what's happening, can't even vocalize that much. But his brain is too fixated on the idea of touching Dabi and coaxing him into returning the attention. That's the thought that fuels his hand as it trails down the other man's chest, his other hand dipping under the edge of Dabi's shirt to finger the hem of his pants. )
Touch me. However you want.
( It's a dangerous request, one he'd never make if he were in his right mind. But all he can think of now is that those words can only promise good things. )
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Dabi wonders what kind of scheme this was. Did they switch him from spy to honeypot? Why not wait until meeting Shigaraki and get into that guys pants instead? Nothing made sense, but the villain isn't paranoid enough to leave. Not when he can get a taste of Hawks.
He's still human, and the other man is infuriatingly gorgeous.
As the blonde steps further into his space and then starts touching him, he finally returns the gesture by sliding his other around the other man's waist. The feeling of lips against his jaw are dulled by the scars, but the reaction is still a soft intake of breath. It was not the place he would have guessed someone to go for, and especially not when they wander over his staples there.
Dabi tightens his fingers a bit in Hawks' hair. It's too intimate, and he has to pull the hero off to look him in the eyes instead. ]
Fine, we'll play. Get on your fucking knees.
[ Getting his dick sucked in an alley was a lot less emotionally loaded. ]
there is a surprising amount of art of hawks and dabi having kids lmao
He isn't opposed to the tightened grip in his hair, but being pulled away earns a low, frustrated sound in the back of his throat. Even so, the bright eyes meet Dabi's, and his pupils are blown wide, a tell of just how badly he wants whatever is happening here.
So when he's told to get on his knees, there's only a second of hesitation. There's a look in those gold eyes that wants to rebel, that recognizes what he's doing is far from a good idea. But it only lasts for that second before he's sinking smoothly to his knees. His hands move, lips parting to bite at the fingertip of one glove to pull it off before doing the same to the other. As he does, those golden eyes don't leave Dabi. Their gaze only breaks as he leans in, nuzzling his cheek against the crotch of Dabi's pants, hands resting on the man's thighs. )
Yeah!
The frustrated sound from the hero is almost cute, but the fact that he actually does as told is what makes Dabi's dick finally react fully. Those eyes stay on him as he watches the blonde sink to his knees and take his gloves off in the most showy way possible. It's hot and makes him annoyed in one, ready to stop this... and then Hawks actually rubs his cheek against his crotch.
No, fuck this. This was far beyond some dumb game of he bird's, so he reaches to undo his belt and then his fly. Instead of pulling his pants down or anything, however, he just tugs on his underwear a bit and then slips his cock out through the opening.
Minimal nudity. For now. ]
Alright. I'm sure you know how to do this.
[ His hand grasps at the soft hair again, directing the hero to his dick. It's already starting to fill a bit, rows of barbells decorating the underside. ]
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I keep missing whole words in my tags >>;
i never noticed lol but i do it all the time too, it's okay
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would you be okay with hawks getting off a couple times?
definitely!
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Then, what had been intended as a night of avoidance became a day, then two, then a few. Maybe it was just Dabi's fault—maybe it was both of theirs. Tomura, at least, has the inclination to approach it from a simplistic perspective—the kiss felt nice, Dabi is one of the few people he might even come close to liking in his lifetime, and so he's perfectly content with letting the experience stand. It didn't have to be special, or labeled, or even particularly profound (as long as he isn't treated like a hole to get someone's dick wet); it's only a matter of making the present more enjoyable. What he doesn't know is what that translates to in terms of saying something to the other man.
Still, he's beginning to feel targeted by Dabi's lack of presence. He's used to Dabi coming and going as he pleases, like some stray cat, but now Tomura can barely walk into a room without the pyro making for the nearest exit. He couldn't be imagining it—and if he is, then it obviously bothers him more than it should. The obvious response from a socially-stunted shut-in would probably be to pretend it doesn't matter, let the other party break first because he's too anxious or emotionally-constipated to break the ice, but (perhaps fortunately) Tomura is also too impatient and confrontational for such a tactic.
The next time he sees Dabi, it's at the vending machines inside the villa's corridors. He had a craving for snacks he wanted to satiate, but that is soon forgotten when he spots a familiar head of ashen hair snatching his own loot from the machine. The hallway is blessedly empty in the moment, so there's no reason to hold back; Tomura plants himself next to the Dabi, facing him. ]
Dabi.
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He can't allow himself to get invested in the league more than he already is, constantly pushing camaraderie out despite having more decent talks with Jin, cleaning up after Toga's stab fests without being asked and acting like a space heater (if grumpily) in shitty hideouts.
'Caring' about them clashed with his personality so he always told himself he doesn't, but even if he started out joining to use the LOV to further his own goals, he respects Shigaraki's promise for his allies to get everything they wanted. As long as he can make Endeavor pay, he has no further plans beyond that. If he lives... maybe razing everything to the ground is worth staying for.
...yet he doesn't know what to do with this new fucking twinge in his chest that remains after their stupid makeout session, so all he does is stomp it down as far as possibly. It's not an emotion as much as it is somehow feeling less shitty. He has drugs and alcohol for that, he doesn't need some kind of leader-with-benefits deal.
Fuck, it all makes him remember how he used to feel so much as a kid. His feelings were always loud and they made him cry, no matter if he was happy or sad. He cried with joy when his flames changed color and he cried until his tearducts burnt away when his body caught fire alone on Sekoto peak. Now all he could really feel fully was anger, and everything else was kind of muted... so he doesn't know if he can give what Tomura anything while at the same time wanting more.
So he avoids his boss and is extra snappy with everyone. Most people give him a wide berth, and he goes to bother the dumb bird sometimes just to get away from the mansion.
Then, a few days later, a trip to the vending machines for some canned coffee and smokes puts him face to face with that scratched-up man again. He slowly stands and opens the can for a sip. ]
Boss.
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For a moment, he says nothing and stares hard at the other man, not bothering to conceal his scrutiny. He searches Dabi's face for any hint of unease or anything—anything that could tell him what was going through that hot head. But Dabi's always been difficult to read, and even if he's been dancing around Tomura's presence for days he could probably still put up a poker face. Tomura narrows his eyes, annoyed.
Dabi still isn't going anywhere though, so after that, Tomura's play is obvious. ]
Have you been running away from me?
[ Cutting straight through the bullshit. ]
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Yeah. [ The pyro finally admits, leaning back against the vending machine with a sigh. ] I don't regret it, if that's what's you're thinking. Fuck, no.
[ He deserves to know that much, at least. Knowing that Dabi wasn't out here trying to forget what he did, feeling disgusted about it or anything like that. He liked it, he can't deny that. ]
S'just... [ He sighs, wondering how to phrase this and wishing he could just call the guy a creep and storm off like a petulant teen. Fuck, neither of them really got to even be teens, did they? ] I'm fucked up, you're fucked up and there's a lot of bullshit in my head right now. Didn't feel like dealing with it.
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You were avoiding me because of that?
[ His frown returns. It seems so trivial to him—the nature of what they did is simple in his mind—and maybe he thought it would be the same for Dabi as well. Tomura is quite aware of the possibility that Dabi has his flings, so what reason could there be to overcomplicate an occasional indulgence with him? He doesn't understand it, which leads to him putting it as bluntly as possible: ]
A kiss fucked you up.
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It reminds Dabi of questions and thoughts that make his eyes bleed. ]
I don't do well with... attachments. [ He shrugs slightly. ] At the same time I want to do it again.
[ Weird, how he can open his mouth and things that he hasn't even fully realized himself just drops out. That's what he wants, isn't it? He wants to kiss the other man again and it's fucking him up inside because he can't make this more. He's a fucking sociopath, for fuck's sake. ]
What do you want? 'Cuz if you give me a while, I'll deal with it and we'll be back to square one.
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Something shudders between his ribs, and suddenly he thinks he understands a little better what Dabi is agonizing over. Only, he doesn't have to dwell on it. He dismisses the feeling, like he's dismissed every instance of feeling and thought and belief he'd deemed unneeded before. The quickest way to kill something in one's head is not to let it exist at all, and thinking it through is unnecessary for what he's trying to accomplish here.
Yet, the question Dabi asks isn't an easy one. Tomura knows he doesn't want to go back to square one, would hate if they pretended none of this happened. Maybe that's the same as wanting to do it again, but that's not quite his answer. What he wants is... more something he'd forgotten about while he was focused on being annoyed, something that takes up room again as that annoyance dissipates. With Dabi in front of him now, asking him what he wants, that thing manifests like a phantom touch: how he knows Dabi's warmth, the feel of Dabi's hand on his skin, what it's like to touch his face where scars meet healthy skin.
The realization feels disproportionately important. How irritating. He presses his lips together, a small delay to buy himself another moment before locking in his answer, but when he finally speaks, there's no hesitation in his voice. ]
I want to touch you.
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Dabi is a liar and he lies a lot to himself, too.
Then the answer comes, and it honestly takes a moment to fully sink in. 'I want to touch you.' Fuck, he wants to be touched, too. The pyro takes another sip of his coffee and then throws it away (in a bin next to the vending machine, he's not a monster). ]
Alright. Not here, though. Somewhere private so we don't get fuckin' interrupted again.
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Your room?
[ If anyone comes looking for him, they would knock on his door first. He doubts anyone would want to bother Dabi. ]
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That softer look lessens his tension a bit, and his sharp eyes catches the very slight hint of a smile. It's been a while since their leader has looked in any way happy, so that makes a part of him pleased. ]
My room.
[ The pyro agrees and nods his head in that direction. Hands in his coat pockets, easy gait and quiet while they head up to the rooms the rest of the League were given. Dabi had taken the one in the corner without allowing any damn janken play for it, because it had a balcony.
It clicks open with a key card that always makes him think they're in a damn hotel, and he swings it open. His room is dark and slightly messy, with hints of scorch marks here and there. There's a full ashtray on a table, surrounded by various beer cans and a half-empty bottle of Fireball. Blister-packs of pills can be seen on the nightstand and some bloody towels are shoved in a corner.
At least his bed seems clean, even if the pillow is stained gray from his cheap, shitty brand of hairdye. ]
Alright. Now it's just us.
[ Dabi says as the lock clicks behind him, a little more heat allowed in his voice. ]
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It's fitting for Dabi's usual detachment, but the man is far from detached right now. Tomura smirks this time when he hears the heat in those words, and turns from his observation of the room to face Dabi again. He takes a step into Dabi's space, letting his hands come to rest carefully on the other's chest. He did say he wants to touch.
Leaning in, Tomura presses close in an almost-kiss, his lips just brushing against Dabi's. ]
What do you want to do? [ Equally a tease and an opening for him to take the lead. ]
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Oh, he likes this. ]
I want you to touch me. [ Like it had been a promise rather than a request. ] ...and I want to kiss you again.
[ He could have leaned in and claimed those lips, but instead he reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt off with the practiced ease of someone that needs to drunkenly crash in a bed as quickly as possible rather than a sex fiend.
Either way, it bares all those scars on his chest for Tomura, allowing his boss places to touch. The staples there are fresh, which might explain the bloody towels in the corner. It's healed enough to not bleed, so touching shouldn't be an issue. In fact, it looks better than some of his other areas.
Perfect for learning how he works. ]
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