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It was just honest curiosity. What else is a twenty-two year old virgin supposed to do after a grueling day of hero work, besides wait for some pain in the ass villain to finally show up for their meeting?
Download a gay dating app, that’s what.
Keigo is sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes wide and cheeks pink, as he swipes through dozens of profiles and his screen flashes pic after pic: suggestive smirks, washboard abs, nudes with strategically placed camera flashes, suits or sweatpants with very distinct outlines visible, so much ass, and even just straight-up dick pics.
He’s aware of these so-called hookup apps, of course, he just thought there would be a little bit more… subtlety to it. But no, apparently it’s all very straightforward. ‘Hello, here’s my name, age, and erect penis. I am twelve miles away from you. Swipe right to have me inside you at your earliest convenience.’
So maybe Keigo is lonely. Maybe he jacks off too much in an attempt to drown out the whining ache in his gut from always coming home to an empty house. Maybe he’s starting to wonder if there’s something wrong with him. He’s a Most Eligible Bachelor title holder, he’s well aware he looks good, and he has an impressive career to back up his pretty face and pro hero physique. It shouldn’t be that hard for him to get a date, right? Right?
Maybe it’s because he’s so deep in the closet that even his rabid legion of queer fans can’t find enough proof to dig him out. That definitely has something to do with it. As far as the general public knows, Hawks is simply a heterosexual workaholic.
He knows it would take just one pride month cover shoot to drastically improve his dating prospects, because he witnessed firsthand what a picture with a rainbow flag did for Rumi. Since that day, gorgeous women literally line up for a chance to date her. Six months later and Keigo still isn’t fully over his jealousy.
He loves Rumi, he really does, and she deserves all the good things in the world, but sweet Jesus it’s not as if she’s the one who needed help in the romance department. Rumi was already plenty proficient at picking up girls in bars. Three times she ditched Keigo during a night out to go home with someone.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ One hand already in some girl’s back pocket, lipgloss smeared on her neck. What could he possibly say? No please, stay here and drink margaritas with my sad self instead of getting laid in a hot stranger’s bed? It’s not her fault that Keigo has negative game with men.
(He just wishes for a little bit more sympathy from the only person on the planet who knows of his struggle. Would it kill her to pick Keigo over pussy just once?)
Coming out would at least let him put up a flag, pun very much intended. Maybe if he finally told the world that he would like to get swept off his feet by a handsome prince, one would magically appear. Unfortunately, all of Keigo’s bravery gets channeled into his job and not his personal life.
Then today, his sidekicks accidentally left their comms open during lunch. Their conversation quickly turned to dating, and dating apps, and the results of their most successful right swipes. They never talk quite so raunchy in front of Keigo, and what he overheard left him with burning red ears. It also stung, to hear how different people talk when he’s not around. It’s like they can smell the inexperience and awkwardness on him.
It was the final straw. He decided on the spot that he was going to download a dating app that very night. Just to see. Obviously he’s not going to go on a date with someone from a hookup app. But maybe he can practice talking to hot gay people in an app where no one knows who he really is.
The prospect cheered him up. Now that his curiosity was piqued, it sounded kinda exciting. And really, half the world uses dating apps, so how hard could it be?
So here he is. Freshly showered and sitting on the edge of his bed with his knees together and his back ramrod-straight like he got caught doing something illegal. His stomach churns with nerves. He glances at his work phone, hoping to see an emergency call come in so he has an excuse to jump back into his uniform and flee the room. Perhaps a quick little fight to the death will calm him down-
For fuck’s sake, would you get a grip? This is embarrassing.
He already whipped up a quick fake profile, called himself Kei, aged twenty-two, and slapped on a picture of a sunrise he took from the top of a skyscraper downtown a few weeks ago. It’s a nice picture, and lowkey enough that he can start this app adventure by just dipping his toes in the waters.
Then, not wanting to look like too much of a scared virgin, he added a second picture of his naked torso. He took it in the bathroom at work, after checking twelve times that there wasn’t a single feather visible in the shot. Just in case this goes sideways, he doesn’t want to be instantly identifiable as Hawks. He even makes the picture black and white, to fade out his skin tone and visible scars.
And then the swiping starts. Names, ages, pictures, taglines, lots of abbreviations he doesn’t understand, numbers and inches he does understand… He cycles through profiles as if in a trance, and every once in a while something catches his eye and he wonders. What if I talked to you? Would you like me? If I wasn’t Hawks, would you come over and kiss me, lay me out on my bed, slide a hand in my pants-
Soon enough, he starts getting matches. Maybe his profile got pushed because he’s new, or maybe people really just swipe right on everyone. His phone chimes when the first messages start rolling in and a weird scared-excited feeling jabs him in the stomach. He doesn’t feel equipped to go into the messages tab just yet and sticks to swiping for now.
He doesn’t have a lot of time. Dabi is already late, and he’s fairly certain the villain is going to purposefully make him wait for changing the location of their meeting at the last second. The issue is that Keigo is now unsure at what time the villain will deign to show up. He should probably stop scrolling through pictures of half-naked men and go stick his glowing face under the cold tap before he has to play host.
The reality that he texted his address to a wanted terrorist is just now starting to sink in. Fuck, he should have just lied and told Dabi he’s sick. It wouldn’t even be a complete lie. He pulled another double shift, which is just becoming his regular shift with how understaffed the Fukuoka routes have been lately, and he didn’t get in until half past eleven.
He shot Dabi a text on the way home, when he felt he simply wasn’t gonna be able to haul ass to their regular meeting spot after the day he just had.
Change of plans, hot stuff, can you meet at my place? Followed by the address of his penthouse.
No reply, only seen. Which he’ll take as agreement.
Urgh, so maybe Dabi will plant a bomb under the bed now that he knows where Keigo lives. He can’t begin to care. The place isn’t even his, it’s a commission flat his handlers put in his name when he turned eighteen. He’s not allowed to change anything about the bland decor. It’s basically a rental, set up for those dumb interview shoots. A glimpse into the life of number two hero Hawks.
What a joke. The fridge is empty save for some emergency rations, a six pack of beer Rumi forgot about a month ago, and last week’s takeout. A hired cleaning crew comes by every Monday to keep the dust from piling up and to do the dishes Keigo always forgets about. Keigo barely knows which switch turns on which light. He’s here a maximum of two nights per week, preferring to sleep either on the couch in his office, or in the unmonitored supply closet he haggled over for two years. That’s how fucking sad the life of number two hero Hawks really is. No wonder he can’t get a date.
So what if Dabi blows up his place with Keigo inside? Maybe he’ll get some time off work for it.
He allows himself a few more swipes before he has to go and mentally prepare himself for Dabi’s arrival in what is supposed to be his home. This is a new situation with an untested script, and the spike in stress will help keep him alert. Three more profiles, he swears to himself.
Three turns to four turns to five. The fifth guy has a profile picture that’s just a black square with an arrow pointing to the right. Swipe for more. Keigo can guess what that means, so he clicks into the guy’s profile-
Okay. So. He has no idea who ‘D., age 23’ is as a person. His profile is completely devoid of witty quotes and stupid emojis and measurements, and he only has one other picture. But this one speaks more than a thousand words.
“Holy shit.” It’s probably terribly uncool to have such a reaction to a dick pic, and Keigo doesn’t give a fuck. Because holy shit is it the best dick he has ever seen.
He doesn’t even seem fully hard yet, just lazily curving across the guy’s stomach and already at a size that’s nearly intimidating. But it’s the piercings that really do a number on Keigo’s poor bird-brain. Four silver barbells sit on the underside of D’s dick, spaced out like the rungs of a ladder.
Keigo swipes right before he can overthink it, in the hopes he’ll have a match and he’ll get to look at that picture again later.
I’ll have to look up if this app gives notice when someone takes a screenshot-
A notification pops up. D. liked you back! Keigo’s chest does a little hopscotch jump. He clicks on the bubble, which takes him back to the guy’s profile. The picture is still there, but unfortunately it’s the only one.
That’s when he notices a few things all at once.
First, according to the app, D. is less than a mile away. That means this guy is currently somewhere on Keigo’s block, swinging that perfect dick-
Second, there’s something about the skin on his thigh. It takes a while for Keigo to draw his eyes away from the main event, but once he sees it it’s all he can see. There’s a small sliver of scar tissue visible on the inside of D.’s thigh. A burn scar in a terribly familiar shade of dark purple, lined with silver staples.
Keigo holds his phone nearly all the way up to his face. No way. There’s no way. His heart is pounding in his ears-
Loud knocking on his balcony door. Keigo shrieks and drops his phone.
“Hawks! Open up, it’s freezing out here!”