The Achoo Agenda | Dabi/Hawks | Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

[Not Telling]

Hello everyone! Hope this finds you well. I’ve been dreaming of writing a Dabi/Hawks sneezing fic for years - how could I not - especially with Hawks having a built in mechanism for inducing sneezing, it practically writes itself. I've been listening to some songs lately that just make me think this is Dabi/Hawks and inspiration hit! (Happy to share a "playlist" if anyone is interested) So, finally, it’s time to set these two disaster men loose in a swirling storm of enemies-to-lovers, insults as love language, hurt/comfort, and just the right amount of fluff to balance the angst (so much angst resides within these two), goodness. I mean what's not to love? If you're looking for snarky banter that's really just poorly disguised pining, characters who suck at feelings and expressing themselves, but excel at weaponized sass, and a healthy dose of vulnerability peeking through all that bravado, then you’re in the right place. Oh, and sneezes. Lots of sneezes.

I have done my best to write this to appeal to both people wholly unfamiliar with the original source material and fans alike. For those that are fans - this takes place during Hawks' double-agent era (Season 5 in the anime) though liberties have been taken with the timeline, as one does. Hawks has birdlike mannerisms as headcanon because....just because.....we love that okay? Okay. We are also going to pretend that succeeding events between these two don't exist, just nope, nope, nope!? I refuse to accept it, this is where I want these two boys to live. My heart just can't handle it otherwise. 

This ship resides in the upper echelons of my favorite ships of all time – so much complexity and nuance to play with and I enjoyed living in my own Alternate Universe involving these two for the past week. What has been written is a one-shot (albeit a lengthier one) and complete. I hope you enjoy! As always, if you feel compelled to, I would love to know your thoughts! If you're just here to read that's good too! Thanks for stumbling across this and giving it your time. 💙

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The Achoo Agenda

Hawks was nothing if not observant. He prided himself on his ability to read people, to see through their facades with sharp eyes and even sharper instincts. In his line of work, knowing a person’s motives, catching the shred of doubt in their expression, the tension in their tone, was as vital as knowing how to dodge a knife aimed at his throat. It was part of what made him good at his job, and he reveled in the precision of it.

It was a skill honed not just in the battlefield but in little moments, too, like sizing up allies, foes, and anyone in between. Especially those “in between,” the ones he never could quite pin down. And there was no one more enigmatic, more layered with contradiction, than Dabi. The flame-wielding villain was all edges and shadows, stitched together with staples, piercings a bit of rage, a lot of bitterness, smirking disdain, and the unpredictability of a live wire. Hawks had never expected his razor-sharp intuition to uncover this. Dabi, in all his scowling, aloof, patchwork glory, seemed to be affected by sneezing.

When it happened the first time, he’d dismissed it as a fluke. A dusty warehouse rendezvous, had triggered a small fit. Hawks had barely noticed it himself, distracted by the exchange of coded phrases, both of them tiptoeing around their motives like a delicate game of chess. But Dabi’s reaction? Now that had been hard to miss.

The villain’s smirk had faltered mid-quip, his sharp tongue seemingly forgotten as his gaze flicked to Hawks. His expression froze, eyes widened, a half-parted mouth, and for a split second, he’d looked...startled? Caught off guard in a way that didn’t fit his usual brand of detached apathy. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a scoff and a roll of his eyes. He’d brushed off the oddity as circumstantial or coincidental. Dabi was a hard read at the best of times, and Hawks figured the guy had probably just been thrown off by the sudden sound. It might’ve ended there if it hadn’t happened again.

Weeks later, when they’d held another clandestine meeting behind a grimy bar on the outskirts of town, the air reeking of sour liquor and overflowing trash bins. The stench had been enough to make Hawks’ stomach churn, and his nose hadn’t been having it either. Hawks had already been in a foul mood compounded with the displeasure that their meeting spot was a filthy alley. He had been mid-complaint when the urge had seized him. He’d managed to stifle the first sneeze, but the other four had exploded out of him before he could stop them, muffled into his elbow. By the time the last sneeze had escaped him, he had been irritated enough to swear under his breath. But the irritation didn’t last long after that, not when he’d caught sight of Dabi’s expression.

The villain stood motionless, staring, his customary smirk was absent, replaced by something Hawks could only describe as captivated. A faint blush crept across the healthy patches of his skin. When he finally spoke the words carried an uncharacteristic tightness.

“Getting sick on me, bird boy?” His lips had twitched into a smirk, but even that had seemed different, forced.

The incident played over in Hawks’ mind for days afterward. Dabi had been visibly off-balance, his usual armor of indifference cracked. And Hawks, who thrived on understanding the people around him, found himself drawn to the anomaly. His curiosity was piqued, a seed of intrigue planted deep and he was determined to confirm his theory.  He told himself it was simply another tool to exploit, a potential avenue to deepen his infiltration of the League and gain more leverage for the Commission. It was a logical justification, and yet it rang hollow, false.

Enacting his plan to confirm if Dabi enjoyed sneezing wasn’t so much strategy as it was compulsion. It was personal. The pull he felt toward Dabi wasn’t born of necessity but of something far more consuming, more dangerous. Their scathing quips and mocking retorts, had become more than a game of verbal sparring. Somewhere amid the venomous words and calculated tension, a fire had ignited between them that burned hotter than Dabi’s flames and that struck Hawks harder than the cyan of Dabi’s gaze. It was consuming in a way Haws hadn’t anticipated, leaving him seared and breathless. Though it stood in opposition to everything he should be feeling as a pro hero tasked with infiltrating an enemy organization, he found himself inexplicably, foolishly drawn to the League’s enigmatic pyromaniac, in a way that defied logic, defied sense, defied everything, but that made him want to get to know him beyond the confines of his mission.

Even as he played the role of the dutiful informant, he knew his motivations went well beyond utility and the realm of duty. When Hawks traded biting remarks with Dabi, he knew he was feeding into the dynamic for reasons that extended far beyond his assigned task. The reality was, he was just grasping at any excuse to close the space between them. It wasn’t the words themselves that mattered but the reaction they elicited, the spark in Dabi’s gaze, the heat in his sneer. Hawks wanted that attention, that intensity, and the awareness that crackled between them every time they crossed paths. It was reckless, irrational, and entirely against the grain. Hawks was a hero. Dabi was a villain. The lines between them should have been insurmountable. Yet Hawks found himself crossing them in his mind, over and over, drawn inexorably to the man society dictated he should despise.

The pull was almost a fixation, one that Hawks could no longer chalk up to professional intrigue. He wasn’t quite sure what to call this fascination that made his chest tighten whenever he thought of the villain. He wasn’t ready to name it, wasn’t ready to admit what it might mean. But he knew it was dragging him into uncharted waters the lines between his mission, his curiosity, and his…something else had blurred so thoroughly that he didn’t even know where one ended and the other began.

And so, the plan took shape, as ridiculous as it was audacious. If it backfired it could compromise what he had ultimately been tasked with achieving but he couldn’t stop himself. The truth, unspoken but irrefutable, was that Hawks wanted to know Dabi. The real Dabi, the man behind all the contempt and vitriol and he would use any excuse to peel back those layers, no matter how absurd.

Hawks shuffled around his apartment, bundled in a hoodie that did nothing to stave off the shivers wracking his frame. His wings were ruffled and limp and his nose was an angry shade of pink, his golden eyes red-rimmed, his normally suave demeanor thoroughly shattered by the persistent sniffles and sneezes. He flopped onto his couch, his head swimming in a sea of congestion and regret. The plan had seemed foolproof a week ago—intentionally catch a cold, provoke a few sneezes, and see if his theory about Dabi’s alleged sneeze kink held water.

He dragged a crumpled tissue across his nose, wincing at the raw sting. “Brilliant plan, genius,” he muttered, his voice thick and hoarse. “Catch a cold on purpose. No way this could go wrong. Nope. None at all.” His sarcasm was as bitter as the tea sitting forgotten on the table beside him. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes glassy, and snorted weakly, though it turned into a cough halfway through. “Why the hell was my first thought this? Couldn’t just stick my face in a damn flower shop or something to trigger an allergy fit. No, no, that would’ve been too logical. Too easy. Let’s skip right past reasonable and dive headfirst into stupid.”

His head lolled to the side, glaring at his box of tissues as though they were personally responsible for his predicament. “No, instead” he continued, addressing the empty room with the conviction of someone thoroughly exasperated with themselves. “I decided to waltz into the hospital’s sick ward and offer to do patrols there for a week, because sure, that’s a great way to boost morale and oh, right my viral load.” He groaned.

“And then,” Hawks said, sitting up just enough to wave the tissue with a flourish, “stand in freezing rain for forty-five minutes like a damn idiot, wings out, refusing to dry off. Real smart." He flopped back down, coughing weakly. His wings twitched feebly. “And now look at me. I’m sneezing but I’m also leaking like a busted faucet, congested, and gross. There’s nothing attractive about this. If I expect to catch Dabi’s interest in the heat of the moment it surely won’t happen in this state.” As if to punctuate the point another fit wracked through him.

Hhh-hehh... hhhihhh-TSSHHHHhh’uhhh! Hhh-TSSSHHhhhhew! Hhhihhh... Hhh-HH’TSHHhhh! Hhh-hehh’TSHHHH’uhhh! Hhh’TSCHHhh’eww! Hh-TSSSHHhhh!

“This is it,” he muttered weakly, “This is how it ends. Not in some epic battle or grand finale, but buried under a mountain of tissues, drowning in my own misery.”

HHh-Huh-TSSHHH’uuuuhhh! Hehh-TISSSHHhhhh! Hhh-sssschhhuh! Hh-hhTSsshh-uehh!

The tissue he’d been using finally disintegrated, shredded under the relentless force of his misery. He discarded it onto the growing pile littering the coffee table. The sneezing, frequent as it was, wasn’t even the worst part of his ordeal. No, the true torment lay in the pounding headache that throbbed in sync with his congested sinuses and the fever burning him up from the inside out. His raw, inflamed nose twitched again, a precursor to yet another fit, and with a desperate snatch, he managed to grab a fresh tissue in time to catch the onslaught.

Huhh’EHhhTshhh! Hehh-k’TSHHhh’uh! Ehh’TsCHHhhuh! Hhh-hehh… Ehhh’ISHHhhuhh! Hh’TSHHhhuhh! Hhh-hehh... hh-HHEHT’shhh! Hhihh’EHH’tchhhhhew! Hhhhehh’EHHT’shhhuhh! Ehhh’TSCHHhhuew!

A deep groan followed the fit, the sound pouring from his throat as if his very soul was lamenting his predicament. He slumped further into the couch, his wings draped haphazardly around him like tattered banners of defeat, puffed in distress. Hawks couldn’t muster the energy to right them. Normally, he’d take pride in preening and aligning every feather to perfection, but today they remained ruffled and splayed a glaring testament to his malady.

“Time to invite the pyro prince over,” he muttered. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to see the villain at this point, not really. On most days, their banter served as a bizarrely enjoyable distraction, a verbal game of tag that honed his wit and gave him a reason to smirk even when things got tough. But today, the thought of Dabi’s sharp tongue sent a fresh pulse of pain through his temples. He doubted that he'd be able to summon the energy to meet the villain’s quips head-on, much less retaliate with his usual biting charm. All Hawks wanted was to burrow himself into the plush confines of his bed with a nest of soft blankets where no hostile villains or judgment could pierce through. In his mind, the comfort of wrapping himself tightly seemed infinitely preferable to the antagonistic barbs that were likely headed his way.

Yet, even with his determination dulled, he clung stubbornly to it. Miserable as he was, he’d gone through too much effort to secure this meeting, to let it all go to waste now. With a half-hearted groan, he fumbled for his phone, his hands clumsy and uncoordinated as if the fever had robbed him of even basic dexterity. Typing out something simple, direct. Anything more felt like a marathon while juggling flaming batons. He settled on:

 u free? come over.

The response was almost instant, the screen lighting up with a message so typical of Dabi that Hawks could almost hear the mocking lilt in his voice.

That desperate for attention, chicken nugget?

Hawks grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the mocking words. “Yeah, I’m desperate,” he muttered bitterly, tossing the phone aside and leaning his head back against the cushion. “Desperate for you to prove me right, you smug bastard.”

He let his head fall back against the couch cushion, too drained to muster more indignation. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before the soft click of the door handle jarred him from his stupor. Hawks didn’t even bother lifting his head, he already knew who it was. Dabi never knocked, he seemed almost constitutionally incapable of announcing himself like a normal human being.

The door creaked open with an agonizing slowness, and Dabi sauntered inside with his usual swagger, as if he owned the place. He moved with the deliberate, languid grace of a predator, every step an exercise in calculated nonchalance. His trench coat, flared out dramatically behind him, the tattered hem swishing around his scuffed boots, as though he’d stepped off the page of some gothic romance novel. Beneath it, he wore a loose white shirt with a plunging neckline, exposing pale skin crisscrossed with staples stretched across charred purple skin. His black jeans fit snugly, emphasizing the lean, wiry frame. 

His face, as always, was a study in sharp contrasts, an unsettling balance between beauty and ruin. Pale skin against the horrific mottled purple burns that covered the lower half of his face, a mosaic held together by silver staples. Dark lashes framing icy, half-lidded, turquoise eyes, accented by the same scarred skin and staples below his eyes. His dark spiky hair was tousled and windblown, the strands falling into his face in a way that seemed deliberate, though Hawks doubted Dabi cared much for appearances. And yet, there he was, effortlessly styled, his smirk the epitome of devil-may-care charm.

Before Hawks could gather himself, another fit stole his attention.

Hhhihhh… hhhIHhh’tsschhhh! Hhh-EHH’tsCHHhhhew! Hhh’hehh-TSHHH’uhhh! Hhhhehhh… EHH’TSHHHHhhuhhh! Hhehh’EHHT’shhhuhh! HhEh….Ehhh’TSCHuhh!

The effort left him sagging into the couch, one wing twitching as if in an attempt to shake off the lingering irritation. He barely registered that Dabi had stepped from the entryway into the living room, too preoccupied with fishing another tissue from the dwindling box on the coffee table.

“Damn, you look like crap. Didn’t think you could get more pathetic.”

Glancing up, Hawks caught a blurry glimpse of Dabi, though any hint of his potential interest in Hawks’ sneezes was lost on him amidst the lingering distraction of his fit. The villain leaned casually against the wall, his expression teetering between smug amusement and something else, maybe concern buried under layers of cool detachment. But Hawks couldn’t hold onto the thought; the pounding in his head drowned out anything deeper than the superficial meaning of Dabi’s words.

He snorted, immediately regretting the action as the motion sent a fresh, agonizing wave of tickles coursing through his sinuses, teasing him with the cruel promise of yet another fit. He groaned, pinching his nose shut as though that might stave off the inevitable. It didn’t. His breath hitched, his chest shuddering with the erratic rise and fall that preceded the inevitable. He barely managed to muffle the first explosive sneeze against the heel of his palm, the sound forceful. The succeeding ones crept up with too much intensity to even attempt to suppress.

hehh’TSHHHH’uhhh! Hhh-hehh...hhhehhh’TSSHHHH’uhhh! Hhh-hehh-hehh… Hhh-HH’TtttChssSSSh! HEhh’KKSSsTcHhh’uuhh! Hehh-hhHH’ESSCHhhuuh! Hhh-hh’TTSSSHHHhhh! Hehh—hhHH’TSSHHhew!

“Well, if I’m pathetic, what does that make you? I texted, and here you are. Knew you couldn’t resist me.” His voice was hoarse, the usual cocky lilt dimmed by congestion, but he still managed to inject their familiar banter with a shadow of his usual charm.

Dabi’s arms were crossed lazily over his chest, his weight tilted to one side with all the casual arrogance of someone utterly unimpressed. Hawks couldn’t help but resent, in the quietest, pettiest corners of his mind, how effortlessly Dabi wore that veneer of aloofness. It wasn’t just his posture; it was the art of it, the way his entire presence seemed constructed to dismiss the world around him, as if he existed in a realm apart, where consequences were meaningless. The ease of it grated Hawks, who, for all his charm, still worked to craft his persona. Dabi, on the other hand, was maddeningly untouchable, his casual disdain as infuriating as it was compelling.

Dabi’s lips curled into a smirk that could have sliced through glass, the expression equal parts mocking and inscrutable. “Don’t delude yourself, bird-brain,” he drawled, his tone scoffing and dismissive “I was bored, and you were conveniently the closest option. Don’t read too much into it.”

Hawks clasped a hand to his chest in mock despair, his expression the picture of theatrical heartbreak. “You wound me,” he croaked, his raspy voice adding an unintentional authentic edge to the melodrama. “Right here, in my heart.”

Dabi's response was a dry snort, his tone flat. “Your ego is sure to survive. And don’t take it personally, featherhead. I hate everyone equally.” He punctuated the sentiment with a shrug.

Hawks waved a hand toward the armchair across from him. “Make yourself at home. Just…please try not to burn anything down. I’m not in the mood to deal with a fire right now.”

Dabi didn’t need a second invitation, he plopped himself down, kicking his boots onto the coffee table like he owned the place. “So, what’s the occasion? This ain’t your usual call-for-backup.”

“Oh, you know, just wanted to hang out with my favorite villain. Bond a little.”

“You? Bonding with me? I’ll believe that when you stop looking like a drowned pigeon.”

Hawks let out an indignant squawk of protest, though the sound was promptly cut off as the noise triggered his nose and it decided to express itself. His breath hitched uncontrollably, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought against the inevitable.

hhh'EhHSHHuuh! Eh'sHHeueH! Ehh-EshHhuh! Hhh-hhh’ESHHuhh! Hhh-TSSHhhiew! Hehh-EHhh’tsssschhh! Hhh-ehH’HSSshhh’ieu! Hhh’SssttTchhuu! Hhh-TCHHhh’hiew! Hhh’ESSHHhuhh!

He barely noticed Dabi’s reaction at first, too consumed by force of the fit. But as the final sneeze echoed in the air, leaving him a bit woozy, Hawks glanced up. Dabi’s expression, though ostensibly composed, betrayed him in ways Hawks wasn’t sure the villain even realized. His gaze, always so sharp and cunning was replaced by a glimmer of fascination in his regard. The usual smirk faltered his lips parted slightly like what he saw was awe-inspiring.

“See something you like?” Hawks teased wiggling his eyebrows.

Dabi blinked, his mask of indifference snapping back into place so quickly it was almost as though the moment hadn’t happened. He rolled his eyes with exaggerated disinterest. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more full of yourself,” he muttered, his tone wry but just a shade too soft to be biting.

Hawks leaned forward. This was a risky gambit, one that could end in utter humiliation, decimation, or in something far more rewarding. Either way, he was too fever-drunk, feeling a bit too brazen to care. Tilting his head back, he exposed the long line of his throat. His breaths, deliberately hitchy and broken, filled the room.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Dabi’s reaction. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another almost as though to steady himself against the tide of emotions. His jaw clenched, Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darkened. Signs were indicative that his theory was proving true.

Emboldened by this minor victory, Hawks exaggerated his breathing further, dragging in a series of dramatic, moaning inhales, punctuated by pitiful sniffling. He could feel Dabi’s gaze on him, hot and piercing, as he drank in his display. For all his theatrics a tickle began to build in his sinuses, barreling down with alarming speed. But rather than resist it, as he ordinarily would, Hawks embraced the sensation, allowing it to crest and break over him.

Hh-hehh...Hh'TSSHHH'uh! Huhhh’EHHhhTshhh! Hhh-hehh—ehhh’KSHHH’UHH! Hhh-hehh..Hh'TSSHHHiiew! hhh-hhh’HSSTcchhuhhh! HHehh’TSSsSHH’uuhhh! Hhh’TSsTCHHH’eww! Hh-TSSSHHHhuuhh!”

He glanced at Dabi again catching the faint flush that bloomed across the healthy patches of skin. Dabi’s gaze, even darker now, lingered moments too long, his tongue, seemingly unconsciously, wetting his lips. For that brief moment, Hawks felt invincible. Gotcha! He thought smugly.

But his triumph was short-lived. The sneezes morphed into harsh, rattling coughs, shaking the sense of control he’d been clinging to. As he fought to regain his breath, Dabi’s expression shifted back to its usual veneer of disaffected nonchalance. The moment was gone, leaving Hawks feeling unsteady, as though he’d gambled and won, only to have the prize snatched away.

Without a word, Dabi stood, his coat swishing around his legs as he moved toward the kitchen. Hawks blinked after him, too dazed to question it. A minute later, he returned, a glass of water in hand. He thrust it toward Hawks with a brusqueness seemingly meant to disguise the underlying care in the gesture, his scowl firmly in place. “Drink. You look like you’re about to keel over,” he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Hawks stared at the glass, his fingers curling around it as though it might vanish if he didn’t hold on tightly enough. “Wow, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” Dabi snapped, his scowl deepening, “but if you die on me, it’ll ruin my night. You don’t think I’m first on the Hero Society’s suspect list if you kick it?”

Despite Dabi’s attempts to seem steely, there was a softness to his tone that Hawks couldn’t ignore. It was these cracks in Dabi’s persona that he wanted to whittle away at. In his pursuit of testing his theory about Dabi’s predilection towards sneezing he hadn’t considered that it might simultaneously soften Dabi’s hard exterior. Perhaps it was the sneezes themselves, their raw, involuntary nature, that stripped away pretense and left Hawks exposed in a way Dabi couldn’t ignore and that eroded his defenses.

Whatever the reason, Dabi’s indifference seemed to fray at the edges, bringing about a gentler more approachable side, something Hawks had been chasing since the day they met. It was ironic, Hawks thought, that his current misery might be the key to drawing out the very thing he sought. Perhaps getting sick had been the right idea after-all. He sipped the water, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat as he murmured, “I’ll do my best not to inconvenience you.”

"Little late for that bird-brain."

Hawks opened his mouth to reply, but his breath caught mid-inhale, a familiar prickle flaring deep in his sinuses. He barely had time to brace himself before the sneezes tore through him, each one wrenching his body forward with uncontrollable force.

Hhh-hehh—ehhh’KSSHhhuhhh! Eh’TSSHHhhhieww! Hhh-hhh’ESHHhhuhhh! HhhH’TttSSSCHHuuhh! Heh-Hh’TSSHHhhhUuH! Hhh-hhh’ESTtTchuhhh! Hehhh… hhhihhh… hhhIHH’Tsschhhuhh! Hhh-HEHH’TSSCHhuhhh! Hhh-hehh’TSCHHHhhuhh! Hehh… hh’EHH’tssshuhhh! Hhhhhehh’hhTSSHHhhhhh! Hh-ehh’TSSCHHH’uhh! Hhehhh… hhhheh’EHHHT’sshhhhew! Hehh-hhhuhhh… hhhuuh’TSHHHhh!

“Oh my god—it www-wwwoon’t sssSsstt-sss-ssttOp!” He grumbled through the next building sneeze.

Hhh-hehh—ehhh’KSSHhhuhhh! Eh’TSSHHheww! Hhh-hhh’ESSHHhuuh! HhhH’TttSSSCHHuuhh! hhhEh’EHHHT’SCChhhuuuH!

“You’re such a damn mess,” Dabi muttered, his tone gruff, though the harshness seemed almost performative. He reached for the tissue box on the coffee table, pulling one free with an air of exaggerated exasperation before tossing it toward Hawks. “Here.”

Hawks blinked, momentarily stunned by the gesture. “Wow,” he rasped, a faint grin tugging at his lips despite his miserable state. “First water, now tissues? You’re spoiling me, crispy. I might start thinking you care.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he retorted, his tone dry as desert sand. “I just don’t want to watch you drown in your own snot. When the day comes for you to meet your doom, make no mistake, I’m the one delivering the final blow.”

Hawks chuckled, the sound low and raspy as it dissolved into a harsh coughing fit. He pressed a fist to his mouth. As the coughing subsided, he leaned back, his breaths shallow and uneven, though his grin remained intact. “Noted,” he wheezed.

Dabi’s eyes narrowed as he observed Hawks with the intensity of someone trying to solve a particularly vexing puzzle. Yet, beneath that sharp scrutiny, Hawks read hesitation in his body, a tremor in Dabi's fingers speaking to a silent war between drawing closer or retreating to his habitual distance. The moment was fleeting, but it compelled a quiet yearning within Hawks. He longed for Dabi to cross that invisible threshold, to step into his space not with menace but with something softer. Though he couldn’t rationalize it, Hawks fleetingly wished he had the right words to tip the balance, to lure Dabi closer rather than watch him retreat back into his shadows.

“Alright, bird-brain, I’ll bite, why’d you drag me here? It’s obviously not to talk shop.”

Though it wasn’t everything he hoped for, Hawks recognized it as a concession, albeit a reluctant one, and he accepted it with a faint smile.

“What? Can’t a hero invite a friend over for a little R&R without getting the third degree?”

Dabi scoffed, a low, rough sound that matched the roll of his eyes. “Hate to break it to you, birdbrain but I’m not exactly hero material. And last I checked, we’re not friends.” His fingers moved up to trace the jagged scars along his jaw, a reflex Hawks had cataloged long ago in the mental archive he kept of Dabi’s gestures and mannerisms.

Most of these observations weren’t strictly pertinent to the mission, weren’t relevant to his role as a double agent, but Hawks collected them nonetheless, a habit he couldn’t quite shake.

It didn’t make sense why Dabi elicited these behaviors and reactions in Hawks. Dabi was a storm of acidic wit, and emotional volatility. He was as unreachable as he was unpredictable, his cynicism woven into every sharp, rancor filled remark and derisive smirk. Though, Hawks had glimpsed flickers of something softer buried beneath the acrimony and nihilism. Fleeting moments where the caustic attitude abated, revealing the man beneath the mask. And maybe that was what captured Hawks most of all, the fragile humanity veiled beneath all the complex layers and self-imposed isolation. It was those sparks, those elusive glimmers that revealed who Dabi might be, who he could be, that he couldn’t stop chasing.

Hawks had to believe that even the most scarred and battered souls could be saved. If he could reach Dabi, if he could bring out his humanity that was buried beneath all that animosity and pain and coax his humanity into the light it would prove that goodness and compassion could exist even in those perceived as truly evil. It meant there was an alternative to the ceaseless plotting and fighting, an acknowledgment that connection and understanding might succeed where brute force had always failed. In his desire to bring forth Dabi’s benevolence, even his mission had become secondary, its objectives fading into the background like a half-forgotten melody.

“F-fair enough, bb-butttT—” Hawks’ attempt at a response crumbled as, a sudden barrage of sneezes overtook him.

Hhh-hehh…Hhh’TSHHHhuh! Huhhh’EHHhhTshhh! Hehh’TSCHhhuhh! Eh’tSCHH’ew! Huhhh’EHhhTttSSShhh! Hehh’TSssssCHhhuh!

He groaned as he leaned back against the couch, scrubbing his face with one hand. “But maybe,” he said, his voice congested but determined, “I’d like to change that.”

Dabi’s posture stiffened as though the words had struck a nerve. His scowl deepened into something fierce. “I will never be a hero,” he spat the final word loaded with derision and pain.

Hawks raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, easy there, that’s not what I meant I know how you feel about the Heroes Association and the Commission and trust me, you know where I stand on that mess by now. I’m not trying to shove you into some mold. I just think we’re more alike than you realize.”

Hawks pressed on, emboldened by the moment’s hesitation in Dabi’s expression, “And as far as I’m concerned,” he said, gesturing loosely between them, his fingers lifting weakly before slumping back down. “This? Whatever this is? It’s not strictly professional. We could be friends. Or maybe… something more.”

Dabi’s lip curled into a derisive sneer, but it lacked its usual conviction. “You’re unbelievable. Desperate, too.”

Hawks grinned, coughing lightly before he quipped, “Perhaps, funny though, I don’t hear a ‘no.’” He tilted his head. “Seriously, what’s wrong with a little friendship?”

“It’s not my thing,” Dabi muttered, his voice tinged with an edge of discomfort. He crossed his arms, as though the question itself were an affront. “Friendships are liabilities. Besides, I’ve got a reputation to maintain. Don’t need rumors floating around that I’m some softie.”

“Right, right, you’re the big, bad villain, way above all that silly human connection stuff. But I think there’s more to you than that. I think, despite all the growling and brooding, you could use a friend. Just like I c-couu—” His sentence was abruptly cut off, his breath hitching as another wave of sneezes overtook him.

Huh'ESSSHHH'hhiew! Hehh'TCHSSSHuuuh! HUHH'TShiUH! Huuh-EISHHH'hhiew! Heeh'KSHIUH'hhu!

Each sneeze left him momentarily doubled over, his wings twitching erratically with every forceful expulsion. He managed to straighten up slightly, sniffling miserably, before the fit resumed.

Hehh’IHSHHH’iew! Hhh…HIh’KTSsssHhhh’uhhh! Hehh’EISSHhhh’uhhh! Heeh'KSHuuh! Hehh'HEHH'sshh!

“Just like I could,” he finished once the sneezing abated his voice soft but resolute.

Despite his friendly demeanor, outgoing, sociable, and carefree personality, Hawks’ position as a public figure and secret informant disallowed him from establishing true, deep and trusting relationships with people. While his affable nature and easy smile made him popular among colleagues and fans alike, these relationships rarely scratched the surface. There was always a distance, a carefully maintained barrier, as much for his protection as for theirs. Yet, despite these self-imposed constraints, the yearning for something real gnawed at him.

Seeking that with Dabi of all people was reckless, bordering on suicidal. A relationship, friendship or otherwise, with the infamous villain would be fraught with danger, a labyrinth of complications and pitfalls. But Hawks wasn’t lying when he said he believed they weren’t so different. For all their outward dissimilarities, he recognized something achingly familiar in Dabi’s behavior. The way he pushed people away, the venomous words he wielded to keep others at a distance, it was a defense mechanism, it was armor, a brittle shield against the vulnerability he so feared. Hawks recognized it instantly because he bore a similar shield, albeit fashioned differently.

For all of Dabi’s contemptuous dismissal and posturing of human connection as a weakness, Hawks understood with absolute certainty that he craved it. Beneath the sneers and deflections, he saw someone who was tired of pushing people away but too terrified to do anything else. Even when Dabi bristled, lashed out, or retreated he could sense the loneliness, the yearning, the unspoken hope that someone might look past the walls Dabi had erected and see him for who he truly was and wouldn’t recoil. He wanted to be understood and accepted in all his messiness. Hawks could sense it because the same desire resided within him

The truth was, Dabi wasn’t the only one navigating the razor’s edge of mistrust and longing. Hawks had spent years cultivating the image of the golden hero, the affable charm, the effortless self-assured operator, when what was hidden beneath his own comportment lay a man just as wary of intimacy, just as afraid of expressing vulnerability, with a tangled mess of doubts, his own contradictions, and wounds he’d never had the luxury of addressing. Hawks saw in Dabi not just a kindred spirit but someone who forced him to confront his own artifice and ask himself whether what he projected was anything more than an elaborate performance.

More, despite his better judgment Hawks wanted to be that person that saw and accepted Dabi, he wanted to be the one that broke through Dabi’s defenses and impart onto him the compassion he desired.

He wasn’t naïve enough to entertain the notion that breaking through Dabi’s constructed barriers would be anything but arduous. Those towering walls were the product of years of calculated isolation, reinforced by bitterness and pain. Each layer of cynicism and scorn had been meticulously placed, a fortress of hostility designed to repel any who dared draw near. To pierce through it would require persistence, resilience, and an almost reckless disregard for self-preservation. Yet, despite the risk, Hawks found himself compelled to try. And as much as he wanted to help Dabi, to coax him into believing he didn’t have to face the world alone, there was a selfish undercurrent to his efforts. Hawks wasn’t just trying to save Dabi, he was hoping, against all odds, that Dabi might do the same for him.

Before Hawks could ruminate further on the perilous balance between their shared longing and mutual mistrust, his thoughts were violently interrupted. The persistent irritation flaring in his sinuses, insistent, leaving him no choice but to surrender to another brutal onslaught.

Hehh’EISSSHHH’hhuuu! Hh’tSSHHHHhhiew! Hehh’IHSSSHhhh! Huhhh…Hh-EKSSSHHhhh’Uhh! EHH’TSSSHHH’huuhhh! Hhh’EEISSHHH’hiew! Hehh…hehhh’TSHHHH’Uhhh! EHH’TCHHHhhiew! Hhh…IHhh’KTSHHHHh’uhhh! Huuhh’EHHSHHH’iew!

The sneezes left him visibly wrecked, his wings quivering, feathers puffed. He gasped for breath, his vision swimming, the room spinning. As the fit finally ebbed, Hawks blinked, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. When his gaze steadied, it was to the unnerving realization that Dabi had drawn closer, the faintest glint of something Hawks couldn’t immediately name, curiosity, perhaps, or pity laced with begrudging concern in his expression.

“Let’s say I’m willing to entertain this whole ‘let’s be friends’ act for a second. Why the hell couldn’t it wait until you weren’t, y’know, sick as a damn dog?”

Hawks hesitated, realizing in the face of this question he hadn’t really strategized beyond a vague plan of ‘see what happens.’ His tongue stumbling over explanations that suddenly felt flimsy. How did he tactfully admit that he was testing a theory about Dabi’s potential kink? Much less that the impulses driving him were because he wanted Dabi, not merely as a fleeting indulgence or a tactical alliance, but with a hunger that was bone-deep and terrifying in its intensity. How did he explain that he couldn’t suppress the thought that perhaps they were the only two beings broken enough to truly fit each other?

There was a resonance between them, something raw and unspoken, that hinted at shared fractures beneath their disparate masks. Dabi was a mirror to everything Hawks didn’t acknowledge within himself. A survivor molded by unspeakable traumas, scarred in ways that society preferred to ignore, much less address. It was this shared history of navigating human cruelty that bound them. Hawks saw in Dabi the echoes of his own pain, his own disillusionment with a society that demanded their loyalty while turning a blind eye to the scars it had inflicted.

They were a yin and yang of contrasts, darkness and light tangled together in a delicate balance neither dared to disturb but both were too stubborn to face head-on. Where Dabi burned with feral rage, Hawks tempered with relentless resolve. Where Hawks reached with open hands, Dabi lashed out. But the chemistry between them was undeniable, a powerful pull neither had the strength or the will to sever.

Hawks suspected, too, that Dabi felt the magnetism that existed between them. Even now, Dabi’s presence here spoke volumes, whether or not he was willing to admit it aloud. Perhaps Dabi was as tired of the pretense as Hawks was of pretending what he was pursuing with Dabi was purely tactical.

Dabi stood, the movement cutting through Hawks’ introspection, the resounding thud of his boots breaking the fragile quiet. Hawks could do nothing but watch, the words he longed to say caught in the tumult of his mind, as Dabi strode toward the door, the distance between them stretching wider with each step.

"Well, this has been illuminating and fun as always, but I gotta bounce, chicken wing,” Dabi quipped, his tone a casual dagger that sliced through the fragile tether Hawks had clung to. “Enjoy feeling like shit.” He called over his shoulder, his tone laced with flippant bravado.

For a fleeting moment, Hawks considered letting him go. It would be simpler, less mortifying, to let this exchange dissolve into yet another failed attempt to bridge the chasm between them. But something deeper, something incessant, clawed at his resolve, refusing to allow Dabi to vanish without a fight, not this time. Not like this.

“You could always help me out, y’know.” His words hung in the air like a challenge, daring Dabi to engage, to give him even the smallest opening to engage. To stay.

Dabi froze mid-step, his hand resting on the doorknob. The air in the room shifted, thick with tension. The villain’s head tilted ever so slightly. Though he didn’t immediately turn, the taut line of his shoulders betrayed his awareness, his hesitation. His rigid spine a testament to the conflict roiling through him.

Hawks knew he was playing with fire, and not just metaphorically. But what was life without a little heat? And with Dabi, it was never just heat. It was an inferno, volatile and all-consuming, and yet, a part of him, the same part that had convinced himself this plan was a good idea, couldn’t help but edge closer to the flames.

Across the tense silence, Hawks felt once more the telltale prickle deep within his sinuses, a tormenting itch that surged with merciless persistence. His breath hitched unevenly, each shallow gasp a harbinger of what was to come. His hand hovered uncertainly over his face, caught between futile attempts at control and resigned inevitability.

The sound of his breathless struggle echoing in the room, drew Dabi’s gaze like a magnet. This time, the villain turned fully, and Hawks was struck by the intensity of those sharp, electric-blue eyes locking onto his own golden ones. The raw hunger buried beneath Dabi’s stitched facade was unmistakable now, slicing through Hawks’ defenses with a precision that left him reeling. His gaze held no pity, no indifference, only a wild and untamed hunger that set Hawks’ pulse racing.

The tension between them crackled, alive, a coiled spring stretched to its limits. Hawks exhaled shakily, his breath catching in sporadic, uneven hitches. And then, he surrendered. His head tipped back as the sneezes erupted wrenching through his body with startling intensity.

Hhh-hehh... hehh-ehhh'KSHHhhuhh! Ehh'ISHHHhhh! Hhh-hehhh—ehh’KSSHHH’uhhh! Hhh... hhh’TSHHHH’UHH! Hhh-hehhh-ehhh'ISHHHhhh! Hhh-ehhh…hehh’EHHKTSHhhiew! Hh-ehhh’TShhhhuh!

The sneezes came one right after the other, lurching his body forward with uncontrollable force. Each expulsion left him breathless, his chest heaving with the effort to catch fleeting gulps of air before the next wave seized him.

Hhh’ehhh-TSHHHH'oo! Eh'tSSSHhhhhh! Hhh-EhhhKTSHHhh’Uhh!  hhEh’TSCHHhhhew! hhH’ESSShhh-uuhh! HEh-Eh'SHHHH! HhEh..Ehh..hhh’TttSssTChhuh!

The second bout was no gentler, a relentless cascade. His lips parted as though to speak, but the unremitting itch teasing his sinuses robbed him of words.

Hhh…hhehh…hh-hhhhH’EHHKTSHHuhhh! Ihhh’hhh—Ehh’TSHHHhhhuhhh! KtSCHHH’UHHhieww!

When at last the fit eased, Hawks was left breathless and disoriented. He swiped at his damp nose, sniffling softly, but his attention flicked to the man across the room, whose reaction was impossible to ignore.

Dabi hadn’t moved from his place at the door, though his posture had shifted. His shoulders were squared, his jaw clenched tightly, and his expression was a conflicting swirl of amusement, annoyance, and something far darker, more carnal. His tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip. 

“And what makes you think I’d want to do that chicken nugget?” Dabi finally broke the silence, answering Hawks’ previously posed question, his voice low and gravelly, the edge of his words tinged with something more than his usual apathy.

Hawks let out a breathy laugh, his usual smirk finding its way back to his lips despite his disheveled state. “Call it a hunch, bacon boy. Unless…” He paused letting the word dissolve into silence before adding, “I’m completely off about your affinity for sneezing?”

Dabi’s grip on the doorknob relaxed, his fingers loosening as Hawks’ words, laced with taunting confidence, hit their mark. Slowly, he turned on his heel, his movements deliberate, almost feline, each step toward the couch taken with a menacing elegance. As he approached, the space seemed to shrink around them. When he finally stopped, leaning down to bring their faces level, the intensity of his presence was suffocating. One hand braced against the armrest of the couch, while the other, rough and calloused cupped Hawks’ jaw with a startling gentleness. The juxtaposition was dizzying. The acrid scent of ash, burnt flesh, and leather clung to Dabi, an overwhelming presence that Hawks found oddly intoxicating.

The afternoon sunlight filtering through the window illuminated Dabi’s face, highlighting the sharp, angular planes of his jaw and the intricate network of purple skin that marred his otherwise striking features. His piercing eyes glinted like shards of ice. In a different reality, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man could have modeled. As it was, the patches of dead skin, staples, and unruly hair did a great job at deterring any sort of interest in Dabi from the general public. That and his less-than-heroic status. Still, Hawks couldn’t help but find Dabi devastatingly arresting. There was a rawness to him, a feral beauty that was impossible to ignore.

“Well, well,” Dabi drawled, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Hawks’ spine. “Who would’ve thought, you of all people to be the wildcard. Looks like you’re more than just an arrogant, straight-laced pretty face. You either have nerves of steel or rocks for brains pigeon-head.” The words were taunting but Hawks caught intrigue in his tone as well.

Hawks unflinchingly met Dabi’s gaze, despite the proximity and the palpable threat radiating off him. “Probably both,” he admitted the corners of his lips ticking upwards. His wings shifted, the feathers ruffling with a faint rustle as though they ached to move, to reach out and pull Dabi closer. “But you’re still here, so I must be doing something right.”

Dabi’s smirk deepened, a flash of teeth that was more wolfish than amused. His knuckles dragged lightly along the couch’s worn fabric as he leaned just a fraction closer. “What’s your angle?” he murmured, his tone dropping into a gravelly whisper that was as much a threat as it was an invitation. “If you’re pulling some half-assed stunt to dig up dirt on me, you’re gonna regret it.”

Hawks shrugged nonchalantly. “This isn’t a game, hot topic,” he teased. “Unless you’re offering to play one with me.”

Dabi pulled back his smiling revealing a full set of teeth and a lot of mischief. "No? You don't call inviting me over while you're in this sneezy state to get a reaction out of me, a game?"

"Not a game so much as an experiment, to test out my theories."

Straightening, Dabi withdrew, his weight shifting back as if putting physical distance between himself and the conversation would grant him some measure of control.

“Let’s just say,” Dabi began, his voice lower now, “I’ve had my fair share of experiments conducted on me” The words came slower this time, each one deliberate, like dragging glass across stone. His previous smirk was replaced by something heavier, revealing a glimpse of what lay beneath, a landscape of pain and betrayal. “And they didn’t exactly leave me eager to be someone else’s test subject.”

The silence that followed was as thick as smoke, suffocating. Hawks didn’t need to know the details to feel the weight of Dabi’s words. There was something about the way his voice dipped, the way his gaze momentarily turned inward as though he were staring into the abyss of his own memories that made it clear these scars ran deep. For once, Hawks didn’t try to deflect with a joke.

“Okay, not an experiment, then. Call it…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Call it a chance for us to figure each other out. To get to know each other.”

Dabi’s gaze turned cold, the fleeting vulnerability shuttered behind a wall of skepticism. “And what makes you think I want to get to know you?” His tone was as cutting as ever, but there was something different this time, a crack in the foundation of his jeer that Hawks couldn’t help but notice.

Hawks bit down on the irritated response that threatened to tumble out. God, he could be so infuriating. But even as the thought crossed his mind, Hawks saw why Dabi used antagonism and it wasn’t just because he was an incorrigible shit-stirrer. There was something protective in it, an instinct honed by survival rather than malice.

Before he could respond, a sudden, uncontrollable set of sneezes burst from him.

Hh’tcsSSshhhUh! Hhh-iSSSHhhhu! Heh-TchhhiiSSSHuh! hh—hehh’TSSHhhuh! Hhh-ATttSssSHHuu! Hh’TSSCHhhht!

Still sniffling, Hawks straightened, meeting Dabi’s gaze with renewed determination. “This…means something. At least to me,” he admitted, the words careful yet undeniably sincere. He searched Dabi’s face, his own expression open and unflinching “I don’t know what I’m trying to build here, or even what I’m offering. But can you just, I don’t know, meet me halfway? Give me something. Let me know I’m not just imagining this.”

Dabi’s expression was unreadable as he studied Hawks in return. For a long moment, the only sound was the faint rustle of wings and the hum of the world outside, distant and irrelevant. Finally, Dabi exhaled. He shrugged, his movements loose but not entirely indifferent. “I guess I’ve got nothing better to do,” he said at last. The words were casual, dismissive even, but there was a hint of something else in them too that Hawk’s saw as a tentative step forward. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the moment from slipping away entirely.

Hawks’ grin was triumphant. "I knew I could hold your attention better than your little band of villains."

Dabi gave a single bark of laughter incredulous and amused. “Yeah, maybe so.” Reaching out, Dabi’s fingers ghosted along Hawks’ jawline, the touch deceptively light, yet precise enough to send shivers racing down the hero’s spine. His fingertips traced the smooth curve of skin before dipping lower, following the line of Hawks’ neck with excruciating patience. His nails, jagged yet strangely gentle, skimmed the ridge of Hawks’ collarbones, igniting an electric tremor that spread outward like ripples on a pond.

The urge to chase Dabi’s touch, to close the distance entirely and cocoon the villain in the soft, protective embrace of his wings, clawed at Hawks cardinal urgency. Yet he froze, his muscles locking up. His heart slammed against his ribcage in a wild, erratic rhythm, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, futilely attempting to mask the thunderous tempo of his pulse. He had no doubt, though, that Dabi could feel it, just beneath the surface of his skin, raw and exposed.

“How did you know?” Dabi’s voice dropped to a whisper. 

Hawks managed a weak chuckle, though it felt like he was choking on the sound. “What can I say?” he quipped, forcing a levity he didn’t feel. “You’re an open book, hot stuff.”

Dabi’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “Or maybe,” he countered, his voice sliding into a sultry cadence that dripped with mocking intimacy, “you’re just obsessed with me.” He moved suddenly, smoothly, like a predator closing in on its prey, straddling Hawks’ lap with an ease that was both confining and intoxicating. His thighs bracketed Hawks, holding him in place as though daring him to resist. Leaning in, Dabi’s breath ghosted over Hawks’ ear, sending shockwaves through his body. “Watching me so closely, so keenly,” Dabi murmured, his lips brushing the shell of Hawks’ ear in a maddening tease, “that you pick up on even the smallest shifts in my behavior.” The words brushed against Hawks’ ear like the softest of threats or the darkest of confessions.

Hawks gasped, and he cursed the flush creeping up his neck. His wings quivering, his body’s reaction belying the cool façade he was desperately trying to maintain. He could feel Dabi’s smirk against his cheek, could practically taste the smugness radiating off the other man. The denial sat on the edge of his tongue, ready, but what emerged instead was the truth, a low intimate confession that startled even him. "I could be."

Dabi’s grin widened, a hunter savoring the moment before the kill. His fingers tilted Hawks’ chin upward, his thumb brushing over the plush curve of Hawks’ lower lip. “Interesting,” Dabi murmured, his voice dripping with intent. He dipped his head, pressing the barest whisper of a kiss to Hawks’ cheek, a fleeting touch that lingered like a brand against his skin.

The unexpected contact sent Hawks reeling. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the touch, a soft, unbidden moan escaping his throat. He felt Dabi’s smirk curve against his cheek. “Tell me, chicken wing,” Dabi murmured, his tone rasping and dark, a velvety caress that wrapped around Hawks’ senses, “what were you hoping to get out of this little experiment?”

Hawks exhaled shakily, his breath catching on the words that tangled in his throat. “I think the more pertinent question is what do you want out of it?”

Dabi hummed, a low, considering sound, as his thumb brushed over Hawks’ lower lip once more. Hawks’ lips parted instinctively, his tongue darting out the charge between them buzzing, but as Dabi leaned closer, the moment shattered.

Hawks sucked in a ragged breath, the nagging itch in his sinuses surging forth. The sensation overwhelmed him, his voice breaking as he attempted to warn Dabi. “Hhh… hhehh… h-hold on, D-dahh…bi—!”

hhh—hhH’EHHKTSHHuhhh! Ihhh’hhh—Ehh’TSHHHhhhuhhh! KtSCHHH’UHHhieww! Hhh-HHTSShhhuhhh! Hh’KkkTChSSShew! Hhh-HHTSSssHh!

He barely managed to yank his hoodie over his face, desperate to shield the villain from the spray, his face burning with embarrassment even as the fit continued.

Before Hawks could fully recover, Dabi’s hands shot out, gripping his wrists with startling strength. The contact was firm, commanding, yet lacked malice. He tugged Hawks’ hands down, revealing his flushed face. Dabi’s grip pinned Hawks’ hands to the couch, his eyes smoldering.

“First thing, chicken wing,” Dabi said his voice a rough, low growl that sent shivers racing down Hawks’ spine. “Don’t cover your face like that.” His grip tightened just enough to emphasize his point, the dominance in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want to see everything.”

"Bbuutt Iii - ss-sss—TTTXxxCH—still have to sneeze." Hawks fought against the next vastly building sneeze stifling the one that squeaked by.

Dabi’s smirk widened into something feral, his teeth glinting as he leaned closer. "I know. That’s the point," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr. "I want you to sneeze openly. No hiding, no holding back."

Hawks blinked up at him, confusion knitting his brows. Before he could form a coherent response, another wave overcame him.

Hhh-hhh'ehhhh-TSSSHHH'eeu! Hehh'TCHSSHHuuuh! Huh-heh'TSSHHhh! Heh'TSSShhhh! Hhh'EISSHH'hhiiew! Hhh-hehhKTSSSHhh'eeu! Hhh-ehh'ISSCHhh-uuuhh! Hhh-ehSHUH-huehhh-huehhh! Hh-HEE'shihHH-ew!

As Hawks glanced upward, a flush creeping up his neck, he noticed tiny droplets speckling Dabi’s face and chest. Horror gripped him, surely, this was crossing a line even for their bizarre dynamic. But the look on Dabi’s face wasn’t one of disgust. Dabi’s gaze was molten, hungry, intense. His tongue darted out, slow and deliberate, to lick a stray drop from his lips.

Hawks tilted his head, processing this new information, his voice husky with intrigue. "It would seem," he murmured, "there’s more to this than I thought." His lips quirked into a sly grin. "You like it when I sneeze on you?

“I warned you, didn’t I?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the kind of dark velvet tone that both promised and threatened. "You weren’t ready for the consequences of what you were inviting."

“You don’t know that,” he shot back, “How about you spell it out for me, and I’ll decide for myself if I can handle your kinky fantasies.” His tone aimed to be cavalier, but an edge of anticipation bled through, his body leaning subtly into Dabi’s.

“It’s simple, really,” Dabi began, his voice dipped with honeyed malice. The sharp edge of his words contrasted with the tender way his thumb traced along the line of Hawks’ cheekbone, a juxtaposition that sent electricity zipping along Hawks’ spine.

“You see,” Dabi continued, his words dropping to a near whisper, their proximity making every syllable a dark confession, “there’s nothing more honest than a sneeze. Nothing more genuine, more revealing. It’s an involuntary betrayal of control, a primal, unstoppable act that strips away all pretense. And you, birdie…You walk around with that cocky little mask of yours, all polished feathers and swagger, like the world can’t touch you. But when you sneeze…” Dabi’s smile widened, flashing teeth like a predator savoring his prey. “When you sneeze, that mask cracks. I see the truth underneath. You’re not this untouchable, arrogant hero in that moment. That's the moment I live for, the moment the illusion shatters."

The words landed like a hammer blow, but before Hawks could acknowledge his statement, Dabi’s lips hovered a whisper away from his, their closeness a torment all its own.

“And it’s not just the vulnerability. It’s the inevitability of it. The way it overtakes you. Drags you down from that untouchable pedestal. It’s intoxicating to watch you, this mighty, haughty hero, come undone by something so simple.”

Dabi’s hands slid lower, his grip firm and commanding, and before Hawks could fully register the movement, Dabi plucked a feather from his wings with a practiced precision that made Hawks gasp. Dabi twirled the crimson plume between his fingers, the glint in his eyes as mischievous as it was dark.

“There is also the manner of your sneezes,” His smirk deepened, turning into something far darker as he leaned closer, the light catching the gleam of his teeth.

Hawks shifted a little discomfited. "Wh-what are you—" he began, his sentence cut short as Dabi’s hand lifted. His breath hitched in instinctive anticipation, his eyes locked on the feather as it hovered near his face.

"Let’s see how sensitive that nose of yours really is," Dabi drawled as he brought the feather closer, brushing its tip under Hawks’ nose with excruciating care. The first touch was whisper-light, a fleeting caress that sent a shock of sensation racing up Hawks’ spine, his nostrils flaring as the feather teased his nose. But then Dabi turned it, letting the stiff edge graze the interior of Hawks’ nose.

The reaction was immediate. Hawks’ chest rose sharply, his breath stuttering as his head tipped back slightly, caught in the grip of the itch blooming deep within his sinuses. He fisted his hands, his eyes fluttering shut, his mouth parting slightly, as he struggled to hold back the inevitable.

"That," he proclaimed, his voice taking on a dangerous, almost reverent edge. "That expression. The way your face contorts, muscles straining, creating this tableau of anticipation and tension a moment suspended where the inevitable is both delayed and eagerly awaited." His gaze swept over Hawks’ trembling frame, devouring every detail. "You’re caught in an uncontrollable force, momentarily powerless, and fuck birdie, it’s delicious.”

Hawks’ breathing grew more erratic, his chest heaving as the feather tickled the tissue lining his nose. Each twitch instituted by Dabi or by the feather itself unable to still its reaction, sent a new wave of sensation rippling through him, not just in his nose but from the feather, its nerve-like sensitivity transferring the vibrations back to Hawks. It was an intimate torment, a closed circuit of teasing that was practically overwhelming. “D-Dabi—” he tried to protest, but the rising itch cut him off, his voice cracking into a gasp.

"Then there's that, those desperate build-ups, the erratic uneven breaths, those obscene audible almost moaning gasps that falter and resume, as you teeter right on the edge creating a performance that is unpredictable and mesmerizing. The promise of the release to come as your body tantalizingly prepares to release the powerful gust of air. Powerful and alluring, transforming an ordinary physiological event into an extraordinary spectacle."

Dabi gave the feather another swirl, and a choked gasp slipped from Hawks' lips. He was panting now, his body trembled, his eyes squeezed shut. The tickle intensified, the sensation becoming almost unbearable.

"And finally," he began, his tone dark, sensual, as smoky as the aftermath of the flames he was famous for. "There's the moment itself, the act of sneezing, the explosion, the violent release." Dabi pushed the feather further up Hawks nose, and this time the sensation was too much.

HHHh'ESSSHHHuuh! Hhh-HEHHhh'KSHHH'uuu! Hhh-HEHH'KSChh'UUuhh! Hhh-hehhh’KTSHHHhh’iiiiewww! Hhh-hhehh’IHHH’TSHHhh’uuuuhh!

“Ah, there it is,” Dabi crooned, his gaze fixed on Hawks with an intensity that made the hero’s skin flush.

Hhh-hehh’EHHH’TSSHHhh’uuuuhh! Hhh-ehh’ISSHHHhhuuuuhh! Hhh-ESSHHHhuuh! Hhh-EHHhh’SHhh’uuu!

"I love that that sensitive nose of yours never stops at just one, it's always multiples each sneeze a punctuation mark in a sequence of involuntary responses, each more captivating than the last, varied in their cadence and intensity, but always a pleasure to witness." Dabi said leaning forward to brush his lips against Hawks while giving the feather another wiggle. The dual sensations in his nose and his plucked feather amplifying the maddening itch.

HH'ESSHHHhhuuh! Heh-hh'ESHHHHhh'huiuuh! Huh'ISSHHHH'hhuuhh! Hh-heh'KSSHShi'IEWW!

"And there's the volume, not too loud but not too soft, perfectly balanced, a decibel range that creates a soundscape both pleasing and enthralling. The overall sound, distinct, multi-syllabic, and memorable."

HH-hehh'KTSSSHHhhh'ooo! Hh-ehh'TSHHhuhhh'eeew! Heh'TCHSShi'Uuuh! Hhh-hehhh... Ehh—hh’KTSHHHHuhhh! Hh-ehh’EHHHH'tSHHHoo!

"The action takes you over, consuming you wholly, there's so much power expressed in your sneezes, how your entire body convulses, and your wings twitch, the tremors traveling down the length of your spine, the contraction and expansion of muscles, the force of it all is incredible."

Hhh—Ihh’EHHhhSHHHhuuuhh! Hhh-hehhh’KTSHHHhh’ewww! Hhh-hhehh’IHHH’TSHHhh’uuuuhh! Hhh-ehh’ISSsSsHhhuuhh! Hhehh’SSSHhh’uuuuh! hh-HHTSShhhh’iieWw! Hh-ehh’ESssSSSTCHu!

The sneezes were wetter now, the congestion from his cold leaving his nose streaming. Hawks’ cheeks burned with humiliation and something else he didn’t dare name. He tried to turn away, his wings twitching in an instinctive effort to shield himself, but Dabi caught his chin, holding him steady. “No, no,” Dabi murmured, his tone taking on a commanding edge. “Don’t hide. Don’t you dare hide from me.”

The next set of sneezes exploded from Hawks with an almost obscene ferocity, a fine mist catching in the air between them. Dabi didn’t flinch. If anything, the sight seemed to make him even more feral.

"Look at you," Dabi purred, the back of his knuckles caressing Hawks' flushed cheek, his voice dripping with pure lust. "Completely undone. Beautiful. And that spray, oh feathers, that’s the best part. A symbol of the culmination of all the preceding tension, a physical manifestation of the event's unrestrained nature. Your decorum and control wholly abandoned. Unfiltered. Perfect. You are never more out of control then when you're sneezing. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything."

A low, needy moan slipped from Hawks' lips before he could stop it. His wide, amber eyes blinked up at Dabi, his words rendering him utterly speechless. The feather was gone now, discarded somewhere he couldn’t see, but the phantom sensation of it lingered, and with it, the remnants of the overwhelming, heady thrill Dabi had conjured.

"The aftermath," Dabi murmured, his gaze locked onto Hawks’ parted lips "Ah, that’s real art, isn’t it? The trembling. The way your body gasps to recover, fighting to find its equilibrium again. Your skin flushes so prettily, and your eyes, oh, your eyes—" Dabi leaned closer, his breath fanning hot against Hawks’ cheek. "—they blink slowly, like you’re trying to clear some lingering daze. That little furrow of your brow, the delicious mix of vulnerability and embarrassment written all over your face. I could watch it all, each aspect again and again, and still, I’d find something new to admire. Every time."

Hawks drew in a shaky breath, his heart pounding like a drumbeat in his ears. Dabi’s words unraveled him, leaving him reeling. His mouth opened and closed uselessly, his usual glib responses utterly failing him. He swallowed hard, struggling to find his voice. "You are…" he began, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to say something clever and smooth, but his brain refused to cooperate, muddled by his lingering sickness, and the effect of Dabi's words.

"Dabi," he croaked finally, his voice small, almost plaintive.

Dabi’s grin returned uplifting with dangerous amusement. His fingers threaded through Hawks’ disheveled hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head back further, forcing Hawks to meet his gaze. "Does that answer your question?"

Hawks let out a shaky laugh. "I think it answered a lot more questions than I initially had," he admitted.

"Good," Dabi replied simply, his tone a soft growl.

Their lips collided with a ferocity that stole the breath from Hawks' lungs. The kiss was rough, demanding, and utterly consuming. Hawks melted instantly, his eyes sliding shut. He fisted his hands in Dabi’s coat, pulling him closer. Dabi’s tongue swept along the seam of Hawks’ lips, coaxing them open, and Hawks yielded with a soft, breathy moan. The kiss became messier, hungrier, a clash of teeth and tongues. Hawks felt as though he were being devoured, undone piece by piece under Dabi’s touch, and he loved every second of it.

He was dimly aware of his wings folding around them, enveloping them in a blanket of crimson. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the intoxicating press of Dabi against him. Dabi's hand slid along the curve of his jaw, the motion a paradox, gentle and possessive. Tender and demanding. As if Dabi was staking a claim on territory he deemed his.

The kiss deepened, a storm of raw emotion and carnal hunger that overwhelmed all reason. Their mouths moved in a bruising dance of dominance and surrender, tongues tangling. Hawks’ moans absorbed into Dabi’s scorching mouth. Every movement, every spark of sensation built into a crescendo that seemed poised to unravel him entirely. The room tilted, his senses spiraling, until the very notion of coherence dissolved beneath the crushing intensity of their shared passion.

Just as Hawks teetered on the precipice of complete abandon, Dabi pulled back with a suddenness that left him gasping, his chest heaving as he struggled to ground himself in the abrupt absence of contact. A soft, broken whimper escaped Hawks before he could catch it, raw and unfiltered. Normally, such an involuntary display would have mortified him, but now, pride was a distant memory, lost in the wake of overwhelming desire. His lips, slightly swollen, parted in a silent plea, instinctively chasing after Dabi's retreating mouth, the faintest hint of a pout forming.

"Easy, little bird," Dabi murmured, his voice a low caress that seemed to seep into Hawks' very skin. His thumb brushed gently across Hawks’ cheekbone, the touch tender. The gentleness was so starkly at odds with the earlier ferocity that it left Hawks breathless, his body shivering under the unexpected intimacy. "Don’t wear yourself out too soon," Dabi added with a teasing smirk, his words a sultry promise of things yet to come. "We’re only just getting started."

Hawks swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing as if to steady himself. “What do you—” he began, his voice cracking slightly, but whatever response he’d intended was stolen by a sharp, startled gasp as Dabi moved with seamless strength, scooping him up as if he weighed nothing at all.

“What the hell, man? Warn a guy next time!” Hawks exclaimed, though his protest carried no real bite, rendered almost meaningless by the way his arms instinctively wrapped around Dabi’s neck. His wings fluttered, feathers ruffled and twitching, but he clung to the villain nonetheless.

Dabi’s smirk curled devilishly, the kind of smile that danced on the edge of peril, but it was tempered by the unmistakable glint of amusement in eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?” he countered.

Hawks rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to retort, but the words died unspoken as his eyes caught Dabi’s. They burned with such intensity it left him defenseless. This wasn’t just physical, it was a battle of wills, a surrender of walls, and an unspoken declaration of something deeper. The lines between predator and prey dissolve into something more intricate and beguiling, something that made the prospect of being ensnared almost addictive.

Dabi carried Hawks to his bedroom, opening the door, revealing a space bathed in the setting sun. The radiance caressed the sharp, angular planes of Dabi’s cheekbones, accentuating their statuesque beauty, highlighting the elegance of his jawline. His jagged scars, twisted remnants of pain and survival, glistened in the glow lending him an air of haunting magnificence. He stood there, an ethereal figure etched in chiaroscuro, a portrait of raw, authenticity where every flaw and imperfection told a story more poignant than words could ever convey.

Dabi set Hawks down on the bed with a deliberate gentleness that was at odds with the ravenous intent in his gaze. The mattress dipped beneath their combined weight, and Dabi shrugged off his trench coat with an easy grace before climbing atop him. Every touch, every breath was heavy with unspoken desire, a maelstrom of emotions.

But as Dabi leaned closer, Hawks’ breath hitched, his face scrunching as his nostrils flared, the familiar tickle in the back of his sinuses surging forward with vengeance. He turned his head to the side.

Hhh-hhHEHHH’tSSHHhh’eu! Huhhh-Ehh’KTTSSCHHhhuuhh! Hhh’EHHHhh-shHIUUuuhhh! Hehh’ESSHHH! Hhh-HHHTSSHHhhhuehh! Hehh-ehhh’ISSHHhhuehhh! Hhh’EHHHH’SHHHhhuuhhh!

The sneezes tore through him in rapid succession, each expulsion more wrenching than the last, leaving him flushed and dazed. His chest heaved as he tried to regain control, but the awareness of Dabi’s stare on him made his pulse race for reasons that had nothing to do with his worsening illness. Though the sneezes left Hawks feeling vulnerable, exposed there was a heady power in the way Dabi watched him.

Hhh-HEHhh'TSSHHShhuu! Hh-Ehhh'SHhhiiEWw! Huh-HEHH'kTSSSShhuuu! Heh'HHHH'issSHHiuu! Hhh-EHH'ISHHhuuhh!

"Pretty birdie," Dabi murmured in a raspy voice. He traced a single finger down Hawk’ nose, his expression a mixture of reverence and something far more enthralling, the kind of look that could undo a man in a heartbeat.

A little throaty trilling sound bubbled from Hawks over the compliment. He tried to stifle it, but the sound came out regardless, and his cheeks grew hot, averting his eyes, suddenly embarrassed.

Dabi reached out gently catching Hawks’ chin between his fingers and tilting his face upward. “What did I say?” he murmured, his voice velvet-wrapped steel. “Don’t hide from me. I want you to sing for me, little bird. Every noise, every sound, you’ll give them to me. I’ll learn them all, and what makes them spill out of you.”

Dabi leaned in, his lips brushing against Hawks’ neck in a series of fleeting, deliberate kisses. Each one leaving a burning imprint on his skin. The kisses trailed downward, grazing the hollow of his throat and edge of his collarbone, until Hawks could do nothing but arch helplessly into the touch, like he yearned to fuse himself entirely to Dabi.

Then Dabi pressed his lips to his own in a searing kiss that demanded everything and left Hawks lightheaded. Dabi's hands slipped beneath Hawks’ shirt. His fingers mapped the taut muscles of Hawks' abdomen and the sensitive ridges of his ribs, tracing each contour as though committing the topography of his body to memory. Hawks melted under the exploration.

Just as Hawks surrendered, his illness reasserted itself with cruel timing. The tickle in his sinuses built rapidly. He attempted to pull away but Dabi's grip tightened, keeping him in place.

"Dabi, I—nn-nnh—nnhhhEEhh-huh—!" The words tumbled out in a frantic, fragmented staccato as he raised a trembling hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, a desperate attempt to forestall the inevitable. The effort, was only going to delay the sneeze so he could explain, the sensation too far progressed to be wholly dismissed.

"Oh I'm counting on it." Dabi replied.

It was then Hawks realized exactly what Dabi was saying, there was apparently far more to this kink than he had initially supposed. "I…ah…okay," he stammered.

Dabi chuckled, low and indulgent, the sound reverberating through Hawks’ chest. “I love how shy you get,” he murmured, his lips grazing Hawks’ ear. “As if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted when you texted me.”

Hawks gave a chuckle of his own. “I can safely say that this specific scenario did not enter my mind when I texted you.” The tickle flared, his breath hitching audibly, each ragged inhale a battle between willpower and reflex. He pinched his nose harder, in an almost bruising grip. “You really want me to sneeze on you while we're kissing? While I'm like, right up against you?"

Dabi's smirk deepened, his expression turning wicked and feral. "I want you to sneeze right against me, with my lips pressed against yours. To have every possible point of contact when you explode."

"I-I don't think I can….” he trailed off, unable to articulate the myriad of sensations swirling within him. He wasn't used to being flustered. But Dabi was unraveling him, layer by layer, stripping him bare, and his ability to mask his vulnerability was slipping.

Dabi's eyes flashed dangerously, the intensity in his gaze sharp enough to cut. "That's your problem, you're always thinking. Don't. Let go." he whispered.

Dabi’s lips claimed Hawks’ again, a kiss so demanding and scorching that it obliterated every lingering reservation. His hands tangled in Hawks’ hair, pulling him closer, tighter, until there was no space left between them. Hawks moaned softly, his mouth parting beneath the assault, and Dabi seized the opportunity, his tongue sweeping past Hawks’ lips in an exploration that left him utterly stripped.

The tickle grew until he could hardly focus on anything else. His lips grew lax against Dabi's unable to maintain the pressure as the sneeze surfaced.

Hh'XxxTch! HhhEh-Tchuh! Hhhuh-TxxKch! Hh-eh'XSHhh! Heh'Tchhuh! Heh'Esh! Hhuh-xxKttSssH!

It was an odd sensation sneezing while kissing. He could still feel the explosive force behind the sneeze, but the impact was diffused by the press of their mouths. The middle portion of the sneeze truncated, like the air had been forced into the wrong direction, and the resulting sound was soft, cut off, almost a muffle. He could feel the faint dampness escape, a warm mist settling against the skin of their joined mouths. It was weirdly intimate and Hawks would have been utterly embarrassed and self-conscious if it wasn't for Dabi’s wanton moan that echoed around them, rough and unrestrained. The noise struck Hawks like a lightning bolt, sending a jolt of arousal through his veins. It wasn’t just the sound itself but the hunger it carried, a sound so primal it bypassed thought and went straight to sensation.

Their lips broke apart as they both panted for air, and Hawks blinked up at the sight before him. Dabi’s pupils were blown wide, chest heaving as if starved for oxygen. He looked utterly debauched, his usual stoic demeanor stripped away to reveal something unguarded, fervent, and visceral. Hawks, momentarily stunned, could only stare as his heart thundered in his chest.

Tentatively, he reached out, his fingertips hovering near Dabi’s cheek. The other man flinched instinctively, tension rippling through his frame, but Hawks didn’t withdraw, his hand hovering in the air.  "If I have to let go,” Hawks whispered, his voice husky, “so do you hot stuff. Let me touch you."

Dabi held his gaze, and Hawks was startled by the flash of vulnerability in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, it was as though a wall had crumbled, revealing the cracks beneath, the faintest hint of the man who lurked beyond the layers of armor. Dabi’s head moved in a near-imperceptible nod granting permission.

He cupped Dabi’s cheek, his fingers tracing gently over the textured purple skin, his thumb grazing over one of the cool staples. There was a certain beauty to it, an intricacy in the pattern. When Dabi closed his eyes, his lips parting in an almost inaudible sigh, Hawks couldn't help the swell of affection that rose in him. Hawks leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to the seam between scarred and unmarred flesh. The reaction was immediate, a sharp intake of breath, a shiver that raced down Dabi’s spine, and the faintest hiss of surprise that bordered on a whimper.

Hawks wasn’t finished. His lips trailed lower, planting delicate kisses along the edges of Dabi’s jaw, the column of his throat, and down to the hollow of his collarbone. The texture beneath his lips shifted with each kiss, from raised scar tissue to smooth skin, and Hawks felt a surge of possessiveness gather in his chest an unavoidable desire to have every inch him, to know him so completely that no part of him remained untouched, to lay claim to his pain and his heart.

The soft, strangled gasp that slipped from Dabi’s lips was unlike anything Hawks had ever heard. It was vulnerable, and completely unguarded, a sound ripped straight from Dabi’s soul. It set Hawks ablaze, an almost animalistic need awakening within him to elicit that sound again and again. His fingers tangled in Dabi's dark hair, tugging lightly, just enough to elicit another gasp. As his lips trailed back upward, the insistent itch returned, swelling and cresting in a wave that left Hawks no choice but to surrender. His breath hitched, and his head dipped into Dabi’s shoulder.

Hhh—ihh'TChuuuh! Hhhh'Eshhh'heu! Hhh'HEEshhh'uuhH! Hhh-eh'SHhh'eeehhh'uuhh! Heh'HEEEE'shhuH!

Dabi groaned, the sound reverberated through Hawks’ chest where their bodies were pressed together. The vibration igniting a firestorm of desire. His own moan followed, unable to contain the overwhelming mix of sensations.

Hh-HEE'SSshuu! Heh-HEH'ISSSHHHuuh! Hhh'EHH'sshHhiuuh! Heh-HEE'KkSSSHUuu! Hh'EISssh'HUUH!

"Oh, fuck," Dabi said through another gasp, his hips bearing down into Hawk’s, as though his restraint had finally shattered.

Hawks lifted his head, his breaths uneven, his lips hovering just a whisper away from Dabi’s. Their exhales intermingled, warm and laden with the heady scent of arousal. Dabi’s normally sharp gaze was unfocused, his pupils blown wide and cheeks stained an alluring scarlet.

The sight of him so unraveled, lost in the throes of pleasure, stripped of his usual armor sent a thrill through Hawks that left him utterly captivated. Dabi, the man who cloaked himself in fire and shadows, stood before him now laid bare, undone by Hawks’ sneezes and the sheer intimacy of the moment. It was, without question, the most beautiful thing Hawks had ever witnessed.

The next sneeze loomed at the edge of Hawks’ awareness, the itch building with an agonizing slowness, threatening to overtake him. He swallowed hard, his voice unsteady as he murmured, "D-Dabi, I—"

“Don’t. Fucking. Hold. Back,” Dabi ordered his voice a gravelly growl that sent shivers racing down Hawks’ spine. His fingers curled at the nape of Hawks’ neck, holding him steady, a silent command that brooked no argument.

Hhh-hheee'ShuuH! Hh'Ehh-TSsssHu! Hh'HEH'ISssTChhhuh! Heh-HEE'TCHHH'iuuhh! Heh-HEE’KkSSHhUuu!

Each release left his body trembling, his wings quivering from the force. He buried his face in the crook of Dabi’s neck. The dampness of his streaming nose was inescapable, soaking into the fabric of Dabi’s shirt, but shame had no room here, not when Dabi’s reaction was so exquisite, so unrestrained.

“Yesss, fucking yes,” Dabi moaned, the words escaping on a shuddering exhale. His voice ragged and drenched in pleasure. His hands tightened their hold on Hawks, his fingers digging into his hips, pulling him closer, demanding more.

Hawks’ mind was a whirlwind, his body attuned to every tremor, every gasp, and every desperate sound Dabi made. He felt untethered, lost in the heat and raw emotion, yet utterly present. It  was overwhelming, carnal, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

“You’re... striking,” Hawks murmured, his voice soft and reverent, the words slipping free before he could stop them.

Dabi’s eyes snapped open, locking onto Hawks a mix of hunger and disbelief. Hawks leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Dabi’s in a tantalizing whisper. He smiled at the faint hitch in Dabi’s breath.

“Might want to get your eyes checked, birdie,” Dabi rasped, the usual bite in his words dulled, replaced with a faint, almost hesitant vulnerability. It was as if he were testing the waters, gauging Hawks’ sincerity while shielding himself from the possibility of rejection.

“My eyesight’s just fine,” Hawks replied, his tone firm yet tender, “better than yours, to be sure.”

“What exactly do you see?” he murmured.

Hawks didn’t hesitate. “A tenacious survivor,” he began, his words measured, deliberate. “A man who’s faced the kind of pain that would break most people and still chooses to keep going. I see scars, yes” he said running his hand along Dabi’s jaw down his neck and across his chest down to his forearms. “But they’re not just reminders of agony you’ve gone through, they’re proof of your strength. Most of all... I see you. Just you. You’re all I can see Dabs.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of their implications, and for a moment, neither breathed. They were skirting the edge of a cliff, treading a dangerous path that led to unknown territory, and yet, the thought of turning back held no appeal. The choice was theirs, the power to continue or end the encounter was in their hands, and the knowledge of it made the silence that much more potent.

Without warning, Dabi descended once more, capturing Hawks’ lips in a kiss that was nothing short of devastating. It was fierce, unapologetic, so impassioned, it obliterated every coherent thought in its wake. It was consuming as if Dabi were imprinting himself on Hawks, carving his presence into the very marrow of his being.

Hawks met him with an ardor that rivaled the sun’s intensity, his fingers delving into the unruly chaos of Dabi’s ink-dark hair. The strands slipped through his hands like fine threads of silk, deceptively soft. He tugged at the wild locks as though to anchor himself amidst the tempest of sensations. Their bodies melded together in perfect symmetry, the energy between them sparking like wildfire. The kiss deepened, their movements fevered, as though they were devouring every ounce of this fleeting moment, consuming it entirely before reality could intrude and shatter the fragile sanctuary they had created.

The moment teetered on the precipice of bliss when a muffled moan escaped Hawks’ lips, a sound rich with need, but the vibration awoke the itch at the bridge of his nose. The telltale prickle swiftly blossomed into an inescapable force. It grew with urgency, overtaking his senses, granting him no time to warn Dabi, no chance to wrest control from his faltering body. The first sneezes burst forth against Dabi as he knew he would want, released in a violent, shuddering rhythm. The sheer force and mounting congestion of them quickly overwhelmed him, until he had to pull away, gasping for air as the fit continued unrelentingly.

Hh-EHH'TCHSSSHHHhh'uh! Hhh-ehhh-hh'KTSSHHHhiiuuuuh! Hhh-EhhSHShihhh-huuh! Heh'TSSSHSHiii'ii'eww! Hhh-heh'KSSHHHhh'iiiuuhh! Heh'ESSHHhhhh-iii'EW! Hhh-ehhh… Ehhh’TSHHHiew Hhh'EssssSHhhUh! HhEh-EeH-Hhh'TTssssHH!

The sneezes exploded from him with a startling vigor that he didn't expect, the momentum of them jerking his body off the bed. As the fit progressed the sneezes started to drag, becoming more guttural, as if his illness had dug deep into the chest, sapping his strength with every violent expulsion of air. There was a shivering, wavering quality to the sound, an audible fatigue that painted a picture of a body pushed to its limits.

hhhhh’ETSCHHH! Huhh’EHhhTshhh! Hehh-k’TSHHhh’uh! Ehh’TsCHHhhuh! Hhh--TSSSChhh! Heh-eh-HEEE'shiiUU! Ehh'ISHhh! Hhh-‘TttSSsH! Heh-tTChuh! Hhh’EssSTttCh!

Despite the immense amount of them, a noticeable decline in their power began to take hold, as if his body was struggling to sustain even the energy needed for this involuntary reflex. The sneezes began to sound frail, as though his body's reserves were spent, rattling the lungs with a hollow, empty quality, a weariness that radiated outward, a fatigue that seeped into the presentation of the sneezes, punctuated by soft little whimpers. Each subsequent sneeze less forceful than the previous, until the last fit of 10 came out as little more than hiccup-like bursts.

By the time the fit at last emded. its force diminishing into a weary stillness, Hawks felt exhausted, as though the very essence that fueled him had been drained away, his energy extinguished, the fleeting rush of adrenaline and endorphins gone, leaving only the raw, unrelenting symptoms of his ailment in their wake. A feeble groan escaped him, its tremulous tone a reflection of his depleted reserves as he labored to reclaim steady breath. His vision swam, a disorienting swirl of shapes and colors that seemed to mock his attempts at focus, while the headache he had momentarily forgotten surged back with brutal intensity, pounding relentlessly behind his temples. He sniffled faintly, the effort producing nothing more than a congested wheeze, as ineffective as it was pitiful.

Amidst his misery, a touch, unexpectedly delicate and disarmingly tender, skimmed across his temple. The sensation was so out of place, so jarringly soft in contrast to the sickly fatigue that now overpowered him, that Hawks blinked sluggishly in response, his bleary, glassy eyes lifting with considerable effort to meet the source. Dabi loomed above him, his shadow casting a cool reprieve over Hawks’ flushed features. His expression was softened by an unmistakable gentleness that took Hawks entirely by surprise.

“Easy, pretty bird,” Dabi murmured, his voice still carrying its usual gravelly timbre, though now imbued with an unexpected fondness that felt like a balm against Hawks’ frayed nerves and frail state.

“Mmm… sorry,” Hawks mumbled, his voice slurred, barely coherent as the weight of exhaustion dragged at his words.

“Don’t apologize, idiot,” Dabi chided, though the term carried an undeniable warm affection. His fingers continued their slow, rhythmic stroking through Hawks’ hair. “But maybe next time you want to dig into my life, you could just ask, and save yourself from catching bird flu or whatever the hell this is.”

Hawks mustered a weak, half-hearted scoff, the sound rasping from his throat like a wisp of smoke from a dying ember. “Right, because you’ve always been so forthcoming when I’ve asked questions,” he quipped, his voice strained and roughened by exhaustion, yet carrying the familiar sharpness of his humor, however dimmed.

“Touche,” Dabi conceded, his tone carrying an ease that felt almost out of place.

The exchange lingered in the space between them, a tenuous thread of banter that felt like slipping into an old, well-worn rhythm, teasing, familiar, and oddly grounding. Yet beneath the playful repartee, there was a subtle shift in the fabric of their interaction that he dare not name. To speak of it, to give voice to the quiet truth humming between them, felt dangerous, as if naming it would shatter the delicate equilibrium they had found and have Dabi pulling away. So Hawks said nothing but he felt his heart flutter erratically in his chest, caught in the push and pull of conflicting emotions, desire, vulnerability, and the quiet intimacy of being held by hands he never imagined would feel safe.

Dabi's fingers combed lazily through Hawks' disheveled hair. The motion was unhurried, almost hypnotic, each stroke carrying a quiet, deliberate rhythm that dulled the relentless pounding in his skull dulling with every pass. His shallow breaths began to slow, falling in sync with the soothing cadence. His eyelids grew heavier, exhaustion weighing on his limbs, dragging him further into the circle of Dabi’s arms.

He knew he shouldn’t fall into this moment, shouldn’t let himself lean too deeply into the transient tenderness. Every instinct warned him of the perils that lay ahead, of the inevitable heartbreak awaiting them if they attempted to take this further. Theirs was a connection written in fire and ash. A bond too tenuous to survive the harsh reality of who they were and their opposing paths.  But here, now, amidst the stillness, Dabi’s presence was steady his touching grounding. Against the backdrop of his uncertainty, his resolve slipped and his hands betrayed him, trembling as they clutched at Dabi’s shirt. His fingers twisted in the worn fabric, pulling gently, a plea unspoken, but unmistakable.

Dabi’s movements stilled for a fraction of a second, as if caught off guard by the entreaty. His eyes flicked down to Hawks’ fever-bright gaze, searching, questioning but then, as if compelled by the same invisible force, he leaned in, the distance between them collapsing as his lips found Hawks’. It was a tentative kiss, almost fragile, carrying none of the fiery urgency that had defined their prior exchanges. Instead, it held a quiet reverence, a sweetness that spoke of care rather than conquest, uncertainty rather than demand.

The kiss was a bridge, a passing that offered comfort, warmth, safety, and belonging. It was not the fire of conquest but the relief of acceptance, the solace of being seen and embraced without condition. In that moment, it was a meeting of wounds neither had ever dared show, their broken pieces fitting together in ways they had never thought possible, a fragile lattice of hope woven from the quiet unshakeable certainty that perhaps, in each other, they might finally find the thing the were ultimately searching.

It was a communion of all that had been denied them, affection, trust, forgiveness. A tenuous truce forged not of words but of shared understanding. The moment was still, crystalline in its purity, an invisible bond forged in the space between heartbeats, delicate yet unbreakable, a promise whispered in the language of broken souls, you are not alone.

They remained like that for a suspended eternity, lips locked, the world outside, and their roles in it forgotten. Hawks clung to the moment with every fiber of his being, letting it fill the empty spaces he’d kept hidden for so long. But the spell was broken abruptly when his breath hitched with an uncontrollable sharpness. His chest seized, he twisted away from the kiss only just fast enough to cup his hands hastily over his face.

Ahh—hihh’tschiew! Hh’tsschhuhh! Hh’tskkttchhiew! huh’TCHHhh-iew! HhhH’TSSHHhew! Hhah’KSHhhuuuh!

Hawks turned his crimson-flushed face toward Dabi, shame burning hotter than the fever coursing through his body. “Sorry, I couldn’t hold those back—” he began, his voice nasally and warped, the sounds coming out garbled and imprecise. Consonants refused to cooperate, vowels swam in a slurry of congestion, and the effort to articulate felt as though his throat and nose were stuffed with wet cotton. His words were more exhalation than enunciation, air struggling to escape through his clogged sinuses. The apology barely left his lips before another involuntary gasp seized his chest, and he snapped forward again.

hhuhH’NGkktchh! Hhh’kkTSsschhh! Huhh…hh’tsschhiew! Hh-ehh’TCHSSshh'uuh! HeH’TSsssShew! Hhh’ehhh’TSSSHHHhh-iuuhhh!

A wet sniffle followed the final sneeze, but it brought no relief, only a disconcerting fullness that pressed painfully against his ears, muting the sounds around him in a muffled haze.

Dabi reached past Hawks for the tissue box, pulling out a handful before Hawks could even lift a trembling hand. “The Commission did a real number on you if you’re apologizing for a natural bodily function.” he added, the statement quiet but carrying the habitual bitterness, an undercurrent of restrained anger like acid beneath velvet. His touch, however, was incongruously gentle as he pressed the tissues to Hawks’ nose. “You’re sick. You’re allowed to sneeze.” He added, his resentful tone lessened now by something that Hawks could only describe as protectiveness. “Now blow, pretty bird, before you suffocate from your own damn sinuses.”

Hawks obeyed, the effort of blowing his nose leaving him weak and breathless. Each attempt felt futile, the congestion stubbornly refusing to yield. The pressure in his head seemed to shift ominously rather than dissipate, a mockery of relief. His ears popped, adding an unpleasantry to the dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. The sound the attempts produced were inelegant, an unseemly cacophony of wet gurgling and squelching, his breath hitching between each laborious effort. The final attempt proved too much as a renewed sneezing fit seized him suddenly, wrenching through his body with unrelenting force.

Hh’EHhh—hhTCHHhhieu! Hh-hhH’KSSHhhuhh Hhh’ESSssHHHiuuhh! Ehh’tSSSHHHhhhuhh! Hh-uhh…hh’KTSSHHhhh! Hhh’ehhh’TSSHHHhh’iuuhhh!

He attempted another blow but instead another powerful sneeze escaped him.

HhhH’TSSHHhew! Hh-uh..Hhheh-TttSSsssTchuh! Hh’KkkTtssscch!

Hawks groaned softly, his voice muffled and thickened by congestion as he rasped out,

“Okay… okay, think I’m—hhH’TSSHHhew!—done now.” His tone was barely intelligible, each syllable dragged through the marsh of his clogged sinuses. His cheeks were a brilliant shade of crimson, relaying his embarrassment. He tried and failed to clear his throat, a feeble cough escaping instead.

“Sure you are,” Dabi drawled, his voice tinged with dry amusement, the faintest curve of a smile pulled at his lips. The teasing light in his eyes faded though as he leaned closer, his fingers brushing against Hawks’ forehead. The heat radiating from his skin was alarming, prompting a deep frown to settle on Dabi’s face. “You’re burning up, birdie.” 

Dabi began to shift, his movements brisk and purposeful as he prepared to rise. “Stay here, I’m going to go get you some water, you need to stay hydrated.” As he moved to stand, Hawks’ hand shot out, latching onto his wrist with a grip that, though weak, carried a desperate insistence.

“Don’t go,” Hawks rasped, his voice a hoarse whisper, cracked and fragile but brimming with a raw, unguarded plea that seemed to pierce straight through Dabi. His fever-bright eyes lifted to meet Dabi’s, their pleading intensity halting him mid-motion, rooting him in place. “Please... just stay here. I’ll get it,” Hawks continued, his words fragmented yet ardent, each syllable a quiet testament to the vulnerability he rarely dared to reveal.

Dabi’s lips parted, likely to argue, but before he could speak, Hawks detached a feather, it floated with an almost lazy grace, as if reluctant to obey, but with a flick of his fingers, Hawks sent it gliding toward the kitchen. A faint clink echoed moments later as the feather manipulated a glass and filled it with water from the tap.

“There,” Hawks croaked, his voice cracking on the word, a ghost of triumph in his tone. “Now you don’t have to leave.”

Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle. “You’re really something else, you know that? You could’ve just let me get it. Lazy bird.”

Hawks managed a faint, lopsided smile, his head sinking back against the pillows as exhaustion overtook him. “Not lazy… just... didn't want you to go,” he mumbled, his words slurring slightly as his consciousness wavered.

Dabi’s teasing expression softened entirely. As the rogue feather floated back into the room, he intercepted it along with the glass, his fingers closing around the delicate plume with an almost reverent care. His thumb brushed along its edge, the motion slow and deliberate. The gentle stroke drew an involuntary shudder from Hawks, followed by a soft, burbling chirping sound of contentment that escaped his lips unbidden.

Dabi raised a brow, repeating the motion, watching with faint amusement as Hawks’ lashes fluttered, another small sound escaping him. “Does that feel good, tweety bird?” Dabi asked, his voice low, teasing.

The words jolted Hawks back to the surface of awareness, a fresh flush rising to his fever-flushed cheeks as embarrassment overtook him. “It’s not—” he stammered, his voice cracking as he pushed himself up slightly, only to sink back with a groan of protest as the motion sent his head spinning. “I mean, it does feel good, but... I wasn’t... I didn’t mean to make that sound.” His gaze darted away, his hands fumbled to tug the blanket higher, to shield himself from Dabi’s gaze.

Dabi pressed his lips against Hawks’ not in an solicitous way, seemingly just to draw Hawks back, the caress light and sweet but it had his nerves dancing, lips tingling where Dabi dragged his own along them. “Please don’t hide. I told you, I want all your lovely sounds. You don’t have to maintain your perfect image around me Hawks. This—” his hand rose, brushing a thumb against the faint flush that painted Hawks’ cheek, “—this is far more alluring than the face you wear for the public. And it’s mine.”

Hawks choked on his breathe as the possessiveness of Dabi’s words settled in him, bringing forth another full-body tremor. Slowly, Dabi slid an arm beneath Hawks’ shoulders to help him sit upright lifting him with a care, brushing a damp strand of hair away from his fevered forehead. “Drink” he said gently, bringing the glass and pressing it to Hawks’ lips with care.

The water was cool and soothing as it slipped past his parched throat, though each swallow felt like gravel scraping against raw tissue. Hawks closed his eyes briefly, savoring the small comfort before hastily pushing the glass away.

Hhh-hehh—hhh’SsSShhuhhh! Eh’TSSsshhhheww! Hhh-hhh’EStTtChuhhh! HhheH’TttIsssHew!

“Sorry” He said weakly when the fit concluded.

When he finally opened his eyes again, Dabi was watching him. “You push yourself too hard,” he muttered, brushing his thumb along the edge of Hawks’ jaw. “You’re sick as hell, and you still think you have to apologize for existing. Bet you’ve been working every damn patrol shift and whatever else they’ve dumped on you, haven’t you?”

Hawks leaned heavily against him, his head lolling to rest against Dabi’s shoulder as a faint, rueful chuckle escaped him. “Didn’t start feeling this bad ‘til today,” he admitted, though the words were fractured by another weak cough.

“So that’s a yes,” Dabi concluded with grim knowing. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground for how long now? Weeks? Months? Years? The Commission’s got you convinced that if you stop for even a second, the world will fall apart without you. That’s the burden they’ve dumped on you, birdie. And you’ve carried it, haven’t you? Like a good little soldier. But you’re not a machine, despite your status, you’re still human, no one, not even you can bear that load forever. You’re burning yourself out, and they’ll let you.”

“I know...I know we’re fighting to dismantle the system. And I see how flawed it is, believe me, I do. But even so, I can still make a difference with the work I’m doing as a pro hero. Not for the Commission, but for the people. The citizens. They’re counting on me, Dabi. The whole country is. I have to prove that I can handle it.”

Dabi’s jaw tightened, the corners of his mouth tugging into a scowl. “No,” he said, his tone low but resolute. “You don’t.”

Hawks turned his head away, as though ashamed of the vulnerability written across his face, but Dabi wouldn’t let him retreat. His hand caught Hawks’ chin, guiding his gaze back. “You don’t have to be perfect for them, for anyone. You don’t have to destroy yourself trying to meet bullshit expectations. You're not invincible. The Commission, the people who think they own you, they don’t care about you. They're using you. They've put the weight of the entire world on your shoulders, and they're going to crush you with it.”

Hawks’ eyes flashed with fear and defiance. The conversation hitting uncomfortably close. He tried again to turn away, to retreat into himself. Dabi's grip on Hawks’ chin tightening slightly. “Stop,” Dabi murmured, “Look at me. Please.” He complied his eyes meeting Dabi’s.

“Think about it,” Dabi pressed, his grip on Hawks’ chin tightening slightly. “Think of the difference between working for them and working with us. Think of how they’ve stripped you down to nothing and still expect you to smile as they take more.”

Dabi’s words cut through him like a blade. The truth they carried was one Hawks had long buried, a splinter lodged deep beneath the surface that he’d refused to acknowledge. He had known it, of course, had felt the cracks in the foundation of the system he served, the cold indifference of the Commission that had molded him into a tool rather than a man and in the past weeks while working undercover with the league he had started questioning if he even wanted to be a part of it anymore. But knowing, questioning, and confronting were two entirely different things. He had told himself that his sacrifices were necessary, that the weight he bore was for a greater purpose, a brighter world where unity replaced division, where violence and discord were mere echoes of a darker past. A world where even the top ranked heroes could rest because of the peace that existed among the people.

But now, as Dabi’s words settled into him, Hawks felt the fragile threads of that justification begin to fray. The ideals he clung to, the unity he fought for, felt like a distant dream, unattainable in a system so broken, so irredeemably corrupt. Worse, he could no longer ignore the possibility that he was complicit in perpetuating that corruption. That his hands, no matter how noble his intentions, were stained by the very system he sought to heal.

His voice, when it finally emerged, was a fragile whisper, trembling under the weight of his uncertainty. “What’s the difference?” he asked, his words barely audible, as though voicing them might shatter the tenuous balance he clung to.

The question carried his turmoil, his desperate attempt to reconcile the contradiction of his existence. How could he abandon a system that was flawed but familiar? How could he trade one kind of chaos for another? And yet, in the spaces between his doubts, there was a hope, that Dabi might have an answer, a way forward that didn’t demand he sacrifice everything he believed in. Or, perhaps, a way to rebuild something new from the ashes of the life he’d known.

Dabi’s lips curled into a faint, almost mournful smile. His hands shifted, cradling Hawks’ face as though he might keep him from crumbling apart. “The difference,” he began, his tone measured, deliberate, “is that with us, you’re allowed to be yourself. Not some idealized version of what the world thinks a hero should be. Not the impossibly polished image the Commission wants to sell. Just you.”

He paused, letting the words settle. “The difference is, you’re protected. Respected. Not used. Not broken down into pieces and molded into something that only serves certain parties interests. With us, you’re not alone. You’re not a tool, not a pawn. You’re one of us, Hawks. And that means we fight with you, not for what you can give us. Do you honestly think the Commission could say the same?”

Hawks swallowed hard, his throat constricting as unshed tears gathered in his eyes.

“You have a choice,” Dabi said, his voice firm though oddly kind. “You’ve always had a choice. Don’t let them take that away from you. Don’t let your guilt, your hero complex, blind you. You’re no use to anyone dead and they’ll sacrifice you in a heartbeat if it means keeping their agenda alive. You deserve more than that. You deserve to live, Hawks.”

“I thought...I thought you didn’t believe in friends,” he said at last, his voice brittle. “Didn’t you say they were liabilities?”

"Yeah, maybe I wasn't being entirely truthful.” Dabi muttered, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of a confession. “Maybe I know how important friendships are, maybe you're changing my mind about having them, maybe I want to believe in a future that is better than the one our fucked up society has given us, and maybe I want you to be the one to stand by me as we carve that future out."

The words struck Hawks harder than any physical blow ever could, settling deep within him, hardly believing that his secret longing was manifesting right before him.

"Dabi, I'm scared."

The admission was so quiet it almost disappeared into the stillness of the room, but Dabi heard it as clearly as if it had been shouted. Without hesitation, he pulled Hawks into his arms, wrapping him in a protective embrace that was as unexpected as it was comforting.

“I know,” Dabi murmured, his voice low and raw, stripped of its usual irreverence. “I’m scared too.”

Hawks buried his face against Dabi’s chest. The tears came unbidden, hot and relentless, slipping down his fevered cheeks. His body shuddered as he let out a soft, choked sob. “I’m so fucking scared,” he whispered, his voice muffled by Dabi’s shirt. “I’m scared of losing everyone I care about. I’m scared of failing the people who count on me. I’m scared of—” He faltered, his throat tightening, the words catching as if they were too heavy to speak. “I’m scared of everything. And I’m just... so tired.”

Dabi's hand moved to stroke through Hawks' hair. "I know, pretty bird. I know."

Hawks tried to blink back his tears, to shove them back into the dark corners of his mind where he kept all the things he didn’t have time to feel, but it was no use. The dam had broken, and there was no stopping the flood. His shoulders shook as sob after wrenching sob tore through him, raw and unrestrained until his breath hitched for an entirely different reason, a sharp, erratic intake that betrayed the impending reflex he could no longer suppress. He attempted to pull away from the embrace but Dabi’s arms tightened around him, his embrace as unyielding as it was steadying.

“D-d-dabi, I-I hh-hhh—haaah—” Hawks stammered, his voice cracking as he tried to form words amidst the chaos about to erupt. “I hh-hhaaaavvvve to ssnn—sss-sss-sssnnnEEEze,” he managed, his voice quaking with the strain of holding back both the overwhelming reflex and the deeper vulnerability threatening to engulf him.

Dabi chuckled softly, the sound low and throaty, a mix of genuine amusement and warm reassurance. “What part of you thinks I care, birdie?” His hand rubbed slow circles into Hawks’ back, countering his tremoring body. “I thought you were smart. You’ve already figured out I’ve got a thing for sneezes, especially yours. Why would you hide them now, of all times?”

Hawks groaned, his body trembling as the fight to hold it all back became futile. Surrendering to the inevitable, the sneezes burst free, one after another.

HHEEhh'KKKSSSHHHhuuhh! hhh-HHH'ESSCHhh'iiiuuh! Heh-HEh'kktSSSHHH'uuhhh! hhH—hhtTSSCHHHhew! Hhh-hhhH’TSSSHhhhuuhh! hEh-hhh’tsschhhiew! Hhh-hehh’TSHH’uhhh! Hhh’TSCHHhh’eww! Hh-TSSSHHhhuh!

Each convulsion wracked his body, jerking him against Dabi’s steady frame. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, his head lolling as if the weight of his exhaustion had grown too much to bear. Tears continued to slip silently down his face, mingling with the remnants of his earlier emotional outpouring.

“Let it out,” Dabi murmured, his voice low and steady, laced with a rare softness that Hawks wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. “You’re safe here. Let it all out.”

Hawks shuddered, the final vestiges of resistance crumbling as the warmth of Dabi’s words seeped into him, curbing the edges of his grief. “I’m so tired, Dabi,” he whispered, his voice so faint it felt as though the words might dissolve before they reached the air. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Dabi pulled back slightly, just enough to bring his hands up to cup Hawks’ face. His thumbs swept slowly across his cheekbones, brushing away the tears with a gentleness that made Hawks’ chest ache in a new, softer way. His gaze, intense but tender, locked onto Hawks, grounding him further.

“You don’t have to,” Dabi said firmly, his voice unwavering yet quiet, like a secret meant only for Hawks to hear. “You don’t have to keep burning yourself out for people who don’t give a damn whether you live or die. You don’t have to pretend to be invincible when it’s tearing you apart.”

Hawks’ lips trembled as he fought to hold back another wave of emotion, but Dabi wasn’t finished. “You’re allowed to feel this, birdie. To need someone.”

As the minutes passed, Hawks’ sobs diminished, replaced by quiet, shuddering breaths that gradually steadied. Dabi didn’t rush him, allowing the silence to stretch, a companionable stillness that settled over them. When at last the storm ebbed, the room felt lighter somehow, as if the very air had been purified, cleansed by the catharsis.

Dabi moved, his lips brushing a soft, fleeting kiss against Hawks’ temple. The gesture almost adoring in its tenderness, and it sent a warmth unfurling through Hawks’ chest, chasing away the lingering chill of despair. “Rest now, birdie,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a whisper meant to cradle rather than command.

Hawks nestled closer. Resting his cheek against Dabi’s chest inhaling deeply. The scent was uniquely Dabi, beneath the leather and ash lay something faintly earthy and pleasant, like petrichor. It was strangely comforting. Dabi was his first rain after an unyielding drought, a life-giving fall of water soaking parched earth, replenishing the cracks left behind by years of relentless heat. Where Hawks had grown accustomed to the blistering winds of isolation and the merciless sun of constant expectation, Dabi was he cooling relief of a steady downpour that spoke not of demands but quiet understanding.

The rhythm of Dabi’s heartbeat echoed faintly beneath his ear, a steady, unhurried cadence. It was a sound that enveloped him in tranquility, coaxing his restless mind into unfamiliar stillness. The rise and fall of Dabi’s chest against his own was an understated but profound comfort, the warmth of his body seeping into Hawks’ very core. Every subtle shift, every gentle squeeze of Dabi’s arms around him, whispered a reassurance that defied words.

For Hawks, whose life had been a ceaseless motion, sacrifice, and insatiable demands, the stillness of this moment felt nearly impossible to comprehend. His ascent through the ranks of heroism had been meteoric, far surpassing his personal ambitions, leaving him burdened by responsibilities he had never truly sought. Solitude had been his shadow, the inescapable counterpart to a public life filled with adoration and scrutiny. To be here now, cradled in Dabi’s arms, was nothing short of surreal. It defied not only his expectations but the narrative he had constructed for himself, that his life, however extraordinary, would always be marked by loneliness.

When he had extended the invitation to Dabi earlier, it had been with muted hope carefully buried beneath layers of pragmatic detachment. He had yearned for something extraordinary to spark between them, some unspoken connection to unfold and engulf him. Yet, he had prepared himself, as he always did, for disappointment. He had anticipated another restless night, his mind a turbulent sea of questions and recriminations. He’d sought from Dabi what would be, at best, a temporary distraction, maybe granting him some small satisfaction in having figured something out about the illusive man. What he had not foreseen, what he could hardly believe now, was this, for Dabi not only to reveal part of himself but to offer tenderness and affection. It was so unexpected that he had to question if this wasn’t a fever dream. A conjuring of his ill mind bringing forth the desires he hadn’t allowed himself to fully examine until today.

Hawks exhaled unsteadily, his breath hitching before it gave way to a violent, shuddering fit of sneezes.

Hh’ESSHHhh-ieu! Hhuh’TSSHHhhiew! Hehh-TCHhhhuuuuh! Hh’KSCHhhuhhh! Hhh’EHhh-ISSshhhuuuh!

Dabi murmured something low, unintelligible reassurance, pulling him impossibly closer. It felt surreal to be nestled in Dabi’s arms but comforting on a level that he’d never experienced. For the first time in his life, he felt seen, not for what he could offer, but as the person he barely allowed himself to acknowledge. It was disarming in its gentleness, profound in its simplicity. The ache in his chest, so often a hollow reminder of his loneliness, now felt full to bursting with something unfamiliar, something terrifying, and yet wholly welcome. Another tremulous inhale fell from him, his body tensed for a heartbeat before he crumpled forward as the air ripped from his lungs.

Huh’TCHHhh-iew! HhhH’TSSHHhew! Hhuh’KSHhhuuuh! Hhh-TCHHhh’uuhhh! Hh’ESSHHhhh! Hhuh…huhhh-KTSSHHhh-hhhhuuuhhh! Hhh-TSSHHhhuehh! Heh-HNGkktchh!

He made a strangled attempt to stifle the last, only for it to burst forth in a desperate sound that seemed to echo in the narrow space between their bodies.

For a moment, Dabi tensed in tandem, as if he could will himself to remain unaffected. Yet a small, involuntary, and low enticing moan, escaped him. Unable to resist, Hawks tilted his head just enough to brush his lips against Dabi’s, the contact barely more than a whisper of warmth, yet potent enough to ignite sparks beneath his skin.

“This wasn’t what I expected,” Hawks said after a moment.

Dabi tilted his head, lips quirking into a crooked smile. “What’d you expect? That I’d have my way with you, take everything I desire, and then leave you to sneeze yourself into oblivion?”

Hawks gave a breathy, frail laugh, though it disintegrated quickly into a wheezing sigh that left him wincing. “Something like that,” he admitted weakly lifting his cheek from Dabi’s chest just enough to glance up at him.  “Not feeling safe,” Hawks murmured, his voice soft but earnest. “With you, of all people.”

Dabi smirked faintly. “Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it, birdie?” He said, his voice quiet though it remained tinged with amusement but beneath the humor, there was something deeper, something unspoken and undeniable in the way Dabi held him, in the way his grip tightened fractionally around Hawks’ waist as if to say I’m here. I’m not letting go.

Hawks barely had time to register the words before his chest expanded with uneven gasps, his body preparing for another onslaught.

Hhh- hhH’SCHHHHhhhu! Hhuh-SssTchhuh! Hhhh’EHHHSHHHhew! Heh-Heh-SssTtChuh! Hehh-TtSssHuuh! Hh’KSCHhhuhhh! Hhh’EHhh-TttSSsssTtChhhuhh!

When Hawks finally managed to catch his breath he confessed “Wanted it to happen though.”

Dabi arched an eyebrow “Wait a sec,” his tone playful “You’re telling me you wanted this? You wanted to become ill and then sneeze all over me? Am I not the only one with a kink?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he grumbled “I meant… this.” He gestured vaguely between them, unable to articulate all his desires that concerned Dabi or the strange comfort of Dabi’s presence, the unexpected solace of being cared for by someone who shouldn’t care at all.

Dabi chuckled, the sound a low, throaty rasp. “Relax, I know what you meant, no need to turn yourself into fried chicken trying to explain” His smirk faded, his expression shifting to something more thoughtful and profound. He hesitated, his gaze darting away for a moment before he added, quieter, “Maybe I wanted it too.”

Hawks blinked up at him, surprised by the vulnerability that laced through Dabi’s words. Dabi’s hand moved from Hawks’ back to the nape of his neck, his thumb brushing soft hair there with surprising tenderness. “Never thought anyone would trust me with something like this. Least of all you. But here you are, letting me take care of you, not that you had much of a choice, considering you’re a breath away from collapsing But still.”

Before Hawks could respond, his breath stuttered once more.

Hhh-hh’EHHH-SShhhew! Hhh’SsssTchhuh! Hhh’CHHHhh’iew! hhh-ehTSSSHHHuuh! Hh-ehH'Sshhhh'iiuh!

When it finally subsided, the tension seemed to drain from Hawks, leaving him boneless and pliant in Dabi’s arms. He sighed, shoulders sagging. His body growing heavier with each passing second. As his eyelids fluttered shut, surrendering to the pull of sleep, Hawks found himself murmuring the words he couldn’t keep locked inside, “Stay.”

Dabi’s grip tightened “I will.” The words, though quiet, were loud with conviction.

~The End~

Edited November 29 by Not Telling

[ichixshiro14]

Oh my god ❤️❤️❤️🔥🔥🔥🎇🎇🎇😵😵😵I don't have anything intelligible to say because this utterly broke me and I loved every minute!! Would you consider a sequel with the inevitable consequences of Dabi's actions and Hawks taking care of him?  

[VioletGarden]

You just wrote a work of art, and thank for this🙂

[Not Telling]

@ichixshiro14 Hi, oh my gosh! Thank you so much for the enthusiastic and lovely comment. 🥰  I'm so glad that you enjoyed! I think I could definitely see myself indulging in a continuation with Dabi suffering the effects of his being so intimate with Hawks while he's suffering such an illness, the ideas in fact have already been percolating (I should have known my brain wouldn't be able to resist the possibilities. So much to play with if Dabi becomes ill). 

Hi @VioletGarden thank you so much for reading and for your nice comment, I am honored that you think so. 

 

[sensuelle]

hello? this is insane. will be revisiting. seconding a potential continuation with sick Dabi 🔥

[GraySkies]

So, I'm not familiar at all with this fandom 😅 But I've decided to venture over to the fanfic side of the forum and it turns out I can have a good time even if I know nothing about the worlds these things take place in. You did an incredible job writing in a way that gave all the pertinent information that still allowed me to enjoy this story. I loved this, and I love the way you write omg. Thank you so much for sharing this with us 💕

 

On 11/28/2024 at 2:13 PM, Not Telling said:

The plan had seemed foolproof a week ago—intentionally catch a cold, provoke a few sneezes, and see if his theory about Dabi’s alleged sneeze kink held water.

The way I smiled when I read this part! What a stupid, but beautiful idea 💕

On 11/28/2024 at 2:13 PM, Not Telling said:

Hawks leaned forward. This was a risky gambit, one that could end in utter humiliation, decimation, or in something far more rewarding. Either way, he was too fever-drunk, feeling a bit too brazen to care. Tilting his head back, he exposed the long line of his throat. His breaths, deliberately hitchy and broken, filled the room.

Ooooh he knows what he's doing 

On 11/28/2024 at 2:13 PM, Not Telling said:

As Hawks glanced upward, a flush creeping up his neck, he noticed tiny droplets speckling Dabi’s face and chest. Horror gripped him, surely, this was crossing a line even for their bizarre dynamic. But the look on Dabi’s face wasn’t one of disgust. Dabi’s gaze was molten, hungry, intense. His tongue darted out, slow and deliberate, to lick a stray drop from his lips

Oh my god. This is AMAZING!

On 11/28/2024 at 2:13 PM, Not Telling said:

“Let it out,” Dabi murmured, his voice low and steady, laced with a rare softness that Hawks wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. “You’re safe here. Let it all out.”

 

🥺🥺🥺

 

[Not Telling]

Hi @sensuelle Awww! *blush* Thank you for reading and thank you so much for your comment. I am noting your interest in a continuation involving Dabi. Hehe 

@GraySkies We welcome all levels of experience and knowledge here! 😉 I'm glad that even though you do not know the original source material you gave this little piece a shot. That means a lot, thank you and thank you for your lovely and thoughtful comment! My intent was to make this enjoyable for fans and people wholly unaware of MHA alike. So I'm glad that translated in your case. I quite selfishly want everyone to become enamored with Dabi/Hawks (aka HotWings)! 😆

9 hours ago, GraySkies said:

The way I smiled when I read this part! What a stupid, but beautiful idea 💕

The way *I* smiled reading this. Haha! Yes our dear himbo hero didn't quite think his plan all the way through. 

9 hours ago, GraySkies said:

Ooooh he knows what he's doing 

🤭😉

I was very happy to read your comment, thank you again for stopping by and your kind words. 💙