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They've been sleeping together for a few months before Hawks decides Dabi probably won't kill or maim him in his sleep. Still, he hasn't risked staying the night.
They're in one of Dabi's ratty trash apartments. Like all the others, it reeks of cheap cigarettes and hepatitis; but it'll take Hawks at least an hour to get back to Fukuoka.
Dabi's drifted off, breathing soft and even. Hawks isn't sure whether to be pleased (does Dabi trust him enough to fall asleep in front of him?) or offended (does Dabi not consider Hawks a real threat?).
Hawks considers his options.
1: Do the right thing and leave now so he can go back and sleep in his own apartment.
2: Stay at Dabi's and get an extra hour of sleep.
It's a strangely easy choice. Dabi's not gonna wake up just to set Hawks on fire, and it's not like the Commission is paying Hawks for the overtime. Eyes already drifting shut, Hawks chooses sleep.
He wakes to a gentle sliding pressure on his head. When he opens his eyes, it's to Dabi staring down at him with a closed off expression. Hawks realizes he's draped across Dabi's stomach, which, whoops, probably makes it hard to get up.
"Oh shit, sorry," Hawks mumbles, tongue tired and clumsy in his mouth. He shifts his weight and rolls over to free Dabi. Dabi's hand falls away from Hawks' hair. Hawks thinks, almost horrified, Was he petting me?
"'S fine." Dabi says. Hawks can hear the awkward shrug in his voice. Oh my god, he totally was. Hawks feels his neck flush with embarrassed warmth.
There's a long pause after detangling. For his part, Hawks is trying to decide what the appropriate protocols are for the novel social situation he's found himself in. He can't decide which is more gauche: 'Villain petting my hair while I slept' or 'The morning after with your criminal side piece'.
Ick. So... domestic. He should have ditched last night.
Well, too late for regrets now.
Hawks glances at the neon orange clock on the greasy kitchen counter; 6am. He doesn't have to be at the office until 8. Maybe he can hang out at a nearby park and... feed some birds. Or something. God, what a mess.
Dabi clears his throat. "You, ah." Scratches the back of his head. "You wanna grab something to eat?"
"What, can't get it yourself?" Hawks asks, bewildered. He thinks he'd be offended at the indirect order if he weren't so confused.
"No," says Dabi, slightly exasperated, "I mean, are you hungry. We could. Go get something to... eat."
'Together?' Hawks almost says out loud, like the dumbest bird in the world.
It's a sweet(?) gesture and Hawks considers that he should maybe feel touched. Instead, he thinks, I guarantee anything you would want to eat would not be on my list of Commission approved breakfast foods.
"Sorry." Hawks grimaces with the almost physical pain of how awkward he's about to make things. "I've got a—" pretty strict diet, he finishes wordlessly. A Commission set and Commission enforced diet.
But, like. If he cheated on his diet while he was with Dabi, that would only be natural, right? His goal (as the hero playing the traitor) is getting out of the hero gig. It'd be downright suspicious if he was still following some dumb Commission rules. Right?
"On second thought!" Hawks announces, jumping up to stand on the bed. "What were you thinking? I'm pretty starved."
Dabi gives Hawks a suspicious look. Hawks smiles prettily, knowing he can't pull off innocent. Dabi doesn't push it.
Dabi takes him to the mall attached to the nearby train station.
Dabi has on a dark hoodie, a surgical mask, and a pair of sunglasses. Hawks has on a borrowed jacket large enough to cover his wings and a pink beanie he found in Dabi's closet that seems entirely unlike something Dabi wear.
Hawks thinks they look cool, like celebrities hiding in plain sight. Dabi tells him that no, they don't look 'cool', they look homeless; but it's better than looking like wanted criminals. Hawks supposes Dabi would know.
They go to a Cinnabon. Hawks takes one look at the menu and knows what he's going to order. It has to be the horrendous looking cinnamon roll smothered in caramel and nuts. His handler would throw a fit just looking at it.
Dabi tells him what he wants, then ditches Hawks to find a secluded table.
This means that Hawks orders and pays for both of them, but he's too excited at the prospect of illicit consumption to be annoyed.
He goes to find Dabi, sits down, takes the first bite and nearly spits it out.
"How much sugar is in this?" Hawks demands, amazed.
Dabi, drinking a black coffee, looks at Hawks in disgust. Hawks thinks he has no room to judge, given he doesn't even put sugar in his coffee. The man clearly has no taste buds. "Why did you even fucking order that," Dabi accuses, tone flat. "Can we go get real food, there's a Vie de France at the other end of the station."
"A what?"
Dabi almost chokes on his coffee.
"...Are you messing with me right now?" Dabi asks slowly.
Hawks takes another bite of his sugary pastry and watches Dabi's face carefully. They stare at each other for a few moments.
"...It's a bakery. They have better shit."
Hawks shrugs. "Sounds good. I'll finish this and then we can hit that."
Dabi eyes the pastry. "You're going to finish that?"
Yes, obviously Hawks is going to finish this abomination of a wheat by-product. Who knows when his next chance might be? Unblinking, Hawks stares Dabi dead in the eyes as he takes another bite.
"Why are you eating that if you hate it?" Dabi complains.
Hawks doesn't grace him with a reply. Dabi sighs, settling back in his chair and taking another swig of black coffee.
At Vie de France, Hawks gets another disaster of a wheat by-product; a croissant loaded with shrimp and bacon and he doesn't even know what else. Dabi gets some boring looking cheese danish, and pays for himself for once.
They sit outside the store at one of three small metal tables. The push and pull of people trying to get to work, to make their connecting train, creates a sort of lulling white background noise.
Dabi takes small, delicate bites of his pastry and watches with narrowed, wary eyes as Hawks struggles to consume his own. Something meaty drowning in cheese falls from the bread and plops onto the waxy paper below. Dabi's face draws into a sneer of repulsion. Hawks ignores his judgment, pleased beyond words at his objectively terrible life choices.
"It's 7:30," Dabi grouses. "How the hell can you eat that?"
Hawks is about to argue back, mouth full, and say, "Because it's delicious," but stops short.
"Wait, what time did you say it was?" Hawks doesn't wait for an answer, pulling out his phone to check the display.
7:42.
Hawks cusses around his mouthful of bread and shrimp and scarfs the rest of it down.
"Bye," Hawks says, maybe spitting on Dabi judging from the way Dabi flinches in disgust and immediately wipes his face. "It's been fun, let's do this again sometime."
Then Hawks busts out of the station as fast as he can and flies to his agency at top speed. He gets to the office only 10 minutes late.
(10 minutes late and about 30 grams of sugar over his weekly allotted limit. Hawks couldn't contain his grin if he tried.)
The Commission calls him in for an emergency meeting that same afternoon. Hawks sits on the other side of his handler's desk like a misbehaving schoolboy and thinks: Moment of truth.
She doesn't make him sweat, marinating in his own nerves, as usual.
"Where were you last night?"
Hawks chest puffs up in pride. "With Dabi." Just like you wanted.
She raises an eyebrow, impressed despite her nature. "Really now? That front is going well, then?"
"As well as can be expected." Hawks slips his hands in his pockets and feels himself relax into his role. "He's still tight-lipped, and he didn't have anything interesting lying around his apartment."
She jots something down in her black leather-bound notebook. Then asks, "Do you think it wise to stay the night?"
Here goes.
"Respectfully, sir, if you want me to get any further with this whole 'trust building' thing, I don't see any other options."
And then, miracles of miracles: his handler concedes his point, and lets Hawks get back to work.
A week later, he's with Dabi in some abandoned warehouse by some pier, feeding Dabi some line about, "I just need a little more time."
Dabi's eyes glint dangerously. He uses his height to box Hawks against the wall.
"More time? After all the time I've already given you?"
Hawks wonders if he's about to get pinned to the wall in a very sexy way, or a very not sexy way. Never can tell with Dabi. Hawks' feathers are sharp and ready.
Dabi smiles cruelly but doesn't touch him. "This isn't a matter of 'more time', hero. Either you get me that info, or we're through."
Hawks stands tall and shoves himself into Dabi's space, snarling. Their height difference makes him feel a little foolish, but that won't stop him from shanking Dabi in the gut if it comes to that.
"I just told you," Hawks says, low and even, "I'm working on it."
"Little birdy thinks he has teeth, does he?" and Hawks thinks, I'll show you teeth.
His intent must show on his face. Dabi backs away, hands raised in mock surrender. Hawks' shoulders relax.
Okay... Cool. No fight to the death today.
"Do better next time, Hawks," Dabi says, pulling away.
"Yeah, yeah," Hawks mutters, like he's not allowed to in front of his handler. The other person he's constantly disappointing.
Dabi's a few paces away when Hawks suddenly realizes he doesn't have to check in with the Commission for another 3 hours at least. A half-baked idea formed during their weird breakfast date weeks ago comes back full-force.
"Hey," Hawks calls out, eyes wide and wings trembling, "Do you wanna go get boba?"
Dabi turns his head slowly, eyes narrow over the top of his shoulders.
"No."
"What? Why not? I'm buying."
"Why? So you can..." Dabi trails off, eyebrows furrowed.
"So I can what?" Hawks huffs. "So we can go drink some boba tea in the park? Oh no, how nefarious."
"You want to get boba," Dabi asks flatly, not really a question. His arms cross over his chest. The 'with me,' remains unsaid, but Hawks hears it loud and clear. Hawks rolls his eyes.
"Yes! Oh my god, stop making such a big deal over it. Do you want me to buy you a drink or not?"
Dabi, apparently, decides that he does. Or at least, he's curious enough to play along. Either works for Hawks, really. He walks into town with Hawks, shoulders hunched, footsteps heavy. He keeps his hood up and his medical mask on.
It's off peak hours, and the boba shop is hardly busy. The interior is bare brick walls and soothing dark tones. Dabi says, "So?" and sends Hawks in with his order.
In a disappointing turn of events, Dabi gets green tea. Hawks gets something traditional looking, a drink with a cream-colored liquid and a few layers of black spheres sitting decoratively on the bottom.
They sit outside on the patio of the boba shop. It's a crisp, autumn day, and there aren't many people about. Dabi is careful, only moving his mask to take drinks before pulling it back up. Hawks wants to call him out on how ridiculous he's being; then remembers that he's the No. 2 ranked hero in Japan and Dabi's face regularly makes an appearance on nationally broadcast public safety announcements. Hawks honestly doesn't know which of them get more airtime.
On his first sip of tea, Hawks is reminded that he should order things with less sugar. On his second, a smooth, solid bubble hits his tongue. He slots it in between his teeth and bites down.
His eyes widen in surprise. He swallows quickly.
"It's... gummy," he says with confused wonder.
"Uh, yeah?" Dabi pulls his mask down briefly to sip at his own boba-less drink. "It's tapioka. What did you expect."
Hawks swirls the drink around in his hand, watching the black pearls shift in the artificial current.
"It's not even that good. Why's it so popular?"
Dabi shrugs, looking down at his own drink and swirling it, too. "For the Instagram photos, if you believe Toga."
"Toga..." It takes Hawks a moment to place the name. "That teenage girl who hangs out with you and your league buddies? Blonde? Stabby?"
The plastic cup in Dabi's hand concaves dangerously beneath the pressure of Dabi's fingers. Hawks knows it must be something he said, but isn't sure what part.
"She's a full member of the league," Dabi says stiffly. He keeps his eyes on his not-yet-overflowing drink.
Ahh. Defending the imagined honor of a teenage girl, huh? Murderers of a feather have to stick together, Hawks supposes.
"Well, maybe if you'd let me meet her, I'd know that." He says the words lightly, like he doesn't care one way or the other. At this point, it's habit to not let Dabi see what matters and what doesn't.
Hawks swirling his drink around one last time before taking another sip. A few more Boba pop into his mouth and he makes a face.
Dabi huffs a laugh; Hawks takes that as implicit forgiveness.
The next day finds Hawks waiting in his handler's office to give his regular debrief.
She storms in 10 minutes late and throws a file onto the desk. Hawks winces and glances in the file's direction.
"Well?" she says impatiently.
Hawks obediently turns the front cover of the file open.
He's greeted with a picture of himself.
"You were spotted drinking tea in Yokohama with a mysterious hooded figure."
Hawks flips through the photos. In all of them, Dabi's back is turned and his hood is up. He's unrecognizable. Hawks is at an angle to the photographer, Dabi's pink beanie on his head and red wings peaking out from under his jacket.
In a few of the pictures, Hawks is smiling or laughing. He looks—
He doesn't look like he's faking it.
Well, shit. Can't just go unknowing that, much as he'd like to. Goddammit, accidental self enlightenment is the worst.
"With my League contact," Hawks corrects carefully.
"Care to explain why, Hawks?"
Hawks flips the folder closed and meets his handler's eye. Her face doesn't give anything away.
"Because he... wanted to get drinks...?"
"What did he want?"
"...Green tea?"
She glares like she thinks he's joking and does not at all appreciate it. Joke's on her: Hawks is just stupid.
"From you, Hawks. What did he want from you."
Ohhh, that's what this is about. Hawks had been starting to sweat, thinking his loophole for breaking his diet had been discovered.
"Just wanted to abuse my 'hero wallet', I think," Hawks lies, not missing a beat. "Prove his superiority over me, put me in my place, yada yada."
His handler rubs at her temples, sighing. "And?"
"And what?" Hawks asks, uncomprehending.
"Did you get anything out of him, Hawks." She sounds exasperated, like he's a disobedient 5-year-old. Though Hawks takes offense, he supposes ultimately, that's fair.
"He slipped up and talked about the other league members a bit." Hawks makes an effort to remember the exact words. "He seems attached to that girl, Toga Himiko. Their connection might come in handy down the line."
His handler nods and makes a note. "Good. That's good. Keep it up."
And then Hawks is dismissed.
Hawks drank boba tea on duty, got caught, and got away with it. The thought makes him giddy.
This dumb spy gig is possibly the best thing to ever happen to him.
"Oh man," gushes one of the sidekicks at his agency, "Have you seen the latest Avengers yet? Oh man it was so good."
Hawks smiles, the expression a little forced.
"Nope, haven't seen it yet!" Hawks knows the movie in question. It's very popular. It'll be months before it comes to video. "Did that giant spider make a reappearance?" Hawks asks, not really caring to hear other people brag about how they get to go to theatres, but needing to veer the conversation away from the topic of himself.
After a brief, annoying exchange, Hawks retires to his office and shuts the door.
"'No time for frivolous entertainment'," Hawks mutters to himself in a mocking, high pitched voice that sounds nothing like his handler's. "'You'll rot your brain'."
Sure, Hawks has seen movies, (he's not a hobo, he owns a television) but he's never been inside an actual theatre. He's never experienced a movie on the big screen.
Hawks sighs, plopping down at his desk to wade through some paperwork. If only Dabi would set up their meetings somewhere fun instead of those dinky old warehouses. If only Dabi would—
Wait. Would Dabi?
Hawks is 89% sure his phone isn't bugged. He doesn't think the Commission would risk it, not with all the time Hawks spends hanging around villains these days. Bugging his phone would be a great way to get their best asset killed.
He pulls up his chat history with Dabi.
He types,
what u doin thurs?
Hawks leans faux-casual against a brick wall across from the movie theatre in Shinjuku. He compulsively checks the time on his phone every few seconds.
Dabi is 5 minutes late. The lateness isn't anything new, but the circumstances are new enough on Hawks' end that he's feeling prickly with nerves.
Old lectures keep surfacing in his mind, all of the times his handler has told him he 'doesn't have time for that,' or 'the greater good is more important than an individual's happiness'. Maybe she's right. Maybe he shouldn't do this.
Then, a single thought floats, prevailing above all the noise:
Screw it, it's just one movie.
The next time he looks up, Dabi is melting out of the shadows. Hawks grins and waves. "You made it!" he says as Dabi draws nearer.
Dabi scowls, pulling down his mask and glancing around furtively. "Crowded places like this are a fuckin' terrible idea. What was so important that we had to meet here?"
Oh. Hmm. This might... not go over well.
"Um." Hawks' heart beats a little faster. "How do you feel about Marvel?"
Dabi stares at him for a long moment.
"This better be a lead-up to something good, bird brain."
"Well," Hawks continues, wondering if he's about to sign his own death certificate. "I have two movie tickets. For the latest in the series. Do you maybe wanna... Go?"
Dabi looks to be at a loss, mouth falling slack. Then his brow wrinkles into something just past annoyance, ticking up towards outrage. "I know you didn't call me all the way out here just to invite me on a friendly movie date, asshat. What the fuck is going on."
Hawks bristles. "Oh, like you were doing something sooo important. When's the last time you went to a theatre? When's the last time you just did a normal thing for fun? The tickets are already paid for! C'mon, lighten up. Jesus."
Dabi stares at him some more, and Hawks can't tell if he's about to be dragged to the nearest hospital or be set on fire.
"You," Dabi says, then pauses. "Want to go." He stops again. "See a movie."
Hawks rolls his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Excuse me for thinking that was obvious, given the venue."
"What venue?" Dabi says incredulously, throwing his arms up in frustration.
Hawks nods tightly to the building across from them. Dabi turns to look.
When Dabi turns back around, his posture is less hostile and his eyes are wide.
"Holy shit. You're fuckin' serious."
Hawks shrugs aggressively and looks away.
Dabi seems to hesitate, then turns on his heel. Hawks fully expects him to leave.
Instead, Dabi skulks his way towards the theater. After a moment of being struck dumb, Hawks rushes to catch up. They pass through the large double doors together.
Hawks locates a kiosk and prints off their tickets. The numbers and letters on the tickets must correlate to their assigned seats somehow, but the formatting is alien to him.
After he stands still for too long, mouthing "F 23" a dozen times, Dabi snatches the tickets from his grasp.
"Hey!" Hawks protests.
Dabi takes one look at the ticket, then turns on his heel and strides into the theatre. Hawks trails along after, unsure if he's annoyed or grateful that Dabi seems so much more comfortable in this setting than Hawks is.
They enter a mid-sized auditorium filled with cushy maroon colored seats. The walls and ceiling are painted black. A few people mill about quietly, finding their seats and talking to their companions.
Dabi makes his way up the stairs to some seats that must be theirs. He shimmies sideways across the aisle, then sits down. Hawks joins him, tucking his jacket covered wings tight against back before leaning back in the seat. It's a little uncomfortable, but not terrible.
Hawks glances around. The other patrons are beginning to settle, but no one is sitting near them. Dabi brings out his phone and ignores Hawks.
I didn't want to talk to you anyway, Hawks thinks, petulant.
Some time before the movie is scheduled to start, the lights get weaker. Wide-eyed, Hawks stares up at the ceiling to watch them.
The lights dim down to nothing. As the room goes black, sleepy disorientation hits Hawks hard. His hands feel around wildly until he bumps into something warm and latches on.
"What," Dabi whispers, scathing. He tries to pull away, but Hawks' fingers are clamped down tight.
"Sorry! Sorry," Hawks whispers back, trying to think of any words that might save him from getting his fingers broken, "It's just—Oh!"
In that moment, the enormous screen at the front of the auditorium lights up, and Hawks can see again. His grip slackens in relief, and Dabi finally manages to pull his arm away.
"What the hell," Dabi starts, but Hawks isn't paying attention. Bright lights flash around the screen so fast it makes him dizzy—and then the sound. It comes in from all sides like an attack, and Hawks' hands fly to his ears to cover them.
Hawks finds it hard to catch his breath and recognizes on some level that he might be hyperventilating.
A warmth at his side nudges Hawks back towards reality. Dabi is leaning over the seat separator, mask tugged down and mouth moving.
He tugs one of Hawks' hands away. Hawks catches whispers of, "Hey, hey, you're okay, don't freak out—calm down you dumb bird, you're fine."
You're fine, Hawks thinks; latches on to. You're fine you're fine you're fine.
Hawks forces a deep breath. Breathes out slow, through his nose like the Commission taught him. He closes his eyes and focuses on the foreign warmth wrapped around his left wrist. In stages, his heart rate decelerates.
He pulls away from Dabi and puts his hands in his lap, embarrassed.
Hawks can feel Dabi's eyes on him, but he doesn't want to look over and see the judgment there. He keeps his eyes locked on the brightly glowing screen. He silently wills Dabi to drop it.
"...You okay?"
"Uh, yeah," Hawks mutters, hands twisting together. "Totally fine."
Hawks makes it through the commercials without major incident and believes the worst is over.
He's wrong. The screen goes pitch black again.
It's just for a second, Hawks tell himself, frantic, It won't last long, they've got to turn on the light again soon.
And they do turn on, but Hawks has already worked himself up into another state. When the first loud tones of the production's theme song boom out from all around, he jumps halfway out of his seat.
A hand on his forearm stops him, pulls him back. Dabi's fingers around Hawks' arm loosen, then brush a trail towards his wrist. Hawks' heartbeat quickens for an entirely different reason. Is he really going to...?
A smooth hand slips into Hawks' own, and Hawks wraps his fingers around it automatically. Another loud noise causes his muscles to spasm, and he clamps down briefly.
Dabi snorts.
Hawks hisses, "You offered, no take backs!"
"Yeah, yeah," Dabi mutters, but he sounds amused.
The third or fourth time Hawks grip tightens involuntarily, Dabi laces their fingers together. Hawks' brain goes blank and his body forgets to be scared at the next loud noise.
Dabi must've shifted because Hawks' grip was hurting his bones. Hawks knows that, but he can't help but gently squeeze his fingers around Dabi's.
He synchronizes his timing to a loud noise from the movie. Just in case.
Maybe 30 minutes in, Hawks gets a text. He fishes it out of his pocket with his free hand and covers the screen with his jacket as much as he can before clicking the power button.
His handler wants to know where he is.
Hawks glances over. Dabi’s eyes are tracking the movement of the main character, his mouth set in it's usual slack frown. He storts quietly at some clever line of dialogue and Hawks doesn't know why but it's somehow surprising that Dabi is actually paying attention.
Hawks glances back to his phone and types, w lov contact. will brief later. He holds the power off button, not waiting for a reply.
The vindication Hawks feels as he watches the screen of the device fall black, the blinking notification light cease, is unparalleled.
Then someone in the scene drops a pile of papers on a desk. The sharp thwap in surround sound makes him jump again, wings poofing up under his jacket.
There's probably a metaphor in there about the cost of freedom and all that, but Hawks doesn't bother looking for it. He's painfully self aware enough as it is, thanks.
Dabi squeezes his hand. Then leans over to whisper, "We could just fuckin' leave, you chicken-shit."
Hawks squeezes back, no well placed sound effect to obscure his intentions. He finds himself smiling.
"Not a chance."
Dabi's phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket and must make a face when he sees the name on the lock screen. Because Mr. Compress takes one look at Dabi and says, "Careful! Your pretty face will freeze like that!"
Jin shouts, "Ha! It'd be an improvement!" then winces. "Uh, I... totally didn't mean that?"
This inevitably gets Toga's attention, which Dabi could have lived without.
"Oohh, is it a daaate?" Toga says, dragging out the word 'date' in a sing-song way. Her eyes sparkle malevolently. When did teenage girls get so goddamn scary?
"It's not a date," Dabi snaps, clutching his phone to his chest so Toga can't peak at the screen.
Toga grins like the shark she is.
"Dabi's got a date!" she screams to the rest of the crew, spinning out of reach before Dabi can throttle her. He sighs and lets her go. He has bigger problems to worry about.
Problems like Hawks and his fucking "dates".
Dabi's less than 50% sure these "activities" with Hawks are dates. At first, he'd been around 80% sure they were dates—just really weird, sad ones. But the more time that passes, the more bizarre and less date-like his meetings with Hawks get.
The aquarium had been the tipping point. Hawks had gone in excited and left frustrated. Because, quote, 'Why would they show you all those fish and not let you eat any of them'.
They'd gone for expensive sushi after. Dabi had ordered a salad and Hawks for the life of him hadn't understood why.
Dabi doesn't know what to think anymore, but he keeps playing along, because...
Because why? Dabi scowls. It doesn't matter why. If Hawks wants to drag him along on another shitty date and feed him an overpriced dinner after, Dabi's wallet won't complain.
They meet outside the museum in Ueno park. The weather is impeccable and Dabi's about to spend it indoors, at a crowded venue, with a hero.
What the hell is his life.
Hawks is wearing that dumb pink beanie of Toga's he found in Dabi's closet that one time. Dabi tells himself the emotions he feels at the sight of Hawks waving like an idiot are annoyance. Hawks had straight up stolen that hat. Goddamn magpie.
Hawks pays for their tickets, like always. They don't hold hands.
Hawks marvels at the tall ceilings and marble steps more than he does the ornate statues.
There's a lot of old stuff and plaques printed with theoretically helpful information. Hawks doesn't stop to read any of them. Dabi pauses to look at some pretty cool swords, wondering if he could filch them and get away with it. Unfortunately, Hawks moves through the rooms too quickly for Dabi to formulate any sort of viable heist.
They stay a record-breaking half an hour instead of the recommended two. They would have spent even less time, but Hawks stands in front of some brown, crusty-ass painting for 10 whole minutes. He claims he's trying to 'get it', and keeps saying repeatedly, 'I don't get it.' Each time he repeats himself, the volume and distress in the words increases.
"I don't get it," Hawks whines again, emphatically.
Dabi looks at the painting, then back at Hawks.
"What's not to get."
Hawks gestures wildly towards the piece. The emotion is genuine, because Hawks' wings ripple, agitated, underneath the confines of his jacket.
"Aren't I supposed to... I dunno." Hawks sighs, a small burst of huffy annoyance. His covered wings droop. "Feel something?"
Dabi looks at the painting again.
"I feel something."
Hawks whirls on Dabi.
"What?" Hawks demands, entirely too close and eyes tinged bright with mania.
Dabi levels an unimpressed gaze down at Hawks. "Like burning this place to the ground. Can we go now?"
Hawks snorts, but says, "Yeah. Okay."
They leave the museum. Dabi half expects Hawks to try and take his hand and half expects Hawks to invite him to dinner; the only thing he knows for sure is that Hawks is about to do or say something bizarre and/or offensive.
Hawks laces his fingers behind his head and stares thoughtfully at the crystal clear sky while they walk.
"Well," he announces after a lengthy pause, "That was boring. I didn't enjoy that at all."
A month ago, a statement like that would have pissed Dabi off. He would have assumed Hawks was trying to piss him off intentionally. Now he takes it for what it more likely was: Hawks making a statement of fact that has nothing to do with Dabi and his date-ability.
Dabi shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at the cracks in the sidewalk. Trying not to feel preemptively wrong footed, he asks, "First museum?"
He says it with the least amount of inflection possible. He and Hawks have a bad habit of misunderstanding each other and starting feedback loops of offense. Dabi's just trying to... ugh, fine, avoid a fight. He's trying to avoid a fight with Hawks like a goddamn sissy.
When has Dabi, of all people, ever avoided a disagreement or an altercation? Dabi loves that shit, thrives on the adrenaline and negativity. Hawks is the worst.
"Yeah, I mean," Hawks shrugs, dropping his arms to his side. "Who's got the time?"
Everyone, Dabi thinks. Adults on their days off, teenagers on the weekends, middle schoolers on field trips. Younger kids with their parents. Even Dabi, with his strained home life, had gone to exhibits with his mother and siblings several times.
That Hawks hasn't been to a museum before is a piece of a puzzle Dabi's no longer sure he wants to build. The end result is shaping up to be entirely different from what the picture on the box had promised.
"Yeah," Dabi agrees noncommittally, "They're overrated. I've never been a fan."
Hawks beams at him. "I knew you'd get it," he says; quiet and a little reverent, like a sort of confession. "Thanks for coming anyway."
Hawks swerves into Dabi's trajectory and bumps their elbows together companionably.
Dabi hesitates briefly, then swings his arm so it bumps against Hawks' again. He trails the back of his hand down Hawks' skin until their hands are at the same level. Hawks glances over as they walk, curious but not asking. Dabi takes a steadying breath and slides his hand into Hawks'.
Hawks smiles, intertwining their fingers before giving Dabi's hand a quick squeeze.
Dabi's heart maybe skips a beat or two, and what the actual hell. He's seen this dumb bird naked.
But when Hawks looks up at Dabi like that, Dabi wants to pull him close and cup his jaw and kiss him full on the lips; public setting and active arrest warrant be damned. And isn't that just. Goddamn perfect.
God fucking dammit this is so fucking stupid. What the hell are they doing.
"Hey," says Hawks, voice and wings vibrating in that way they do when he's about to say something particularly weird. "I think that stand has taiyaki."
How have you never had taiyaki? Dabi wants to demand, but he knows he wouldn't get any real answers. He'd just make Hawks self-conscious and pissy.
"Can we go?" Hawks asks, barely paying attention to Dabi anymore.
Dabi's still not sure where he comes into this weird experiment Hawks is running on his own life, but in the end—it doesn't really matter.
Dabi sighs and lets himself be dragged along.
"You're buying."