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Hawks was not a light sleeper by any means. When he was out, he was out, especially with his water mattress. But unfortunately, someone talking next to him did the trick in waking him up.
“Mom, make Dad pull over…”
He was still half-asleep, eyes barely open. “Whazzat? You say somethin’ Dabs?”
A low groan woke him up the rest of the way. He felt around for the bedside lamp and turned it on.
Dabi had kicked off the sheets in his sleep and was covered in a sheen of sweat. Upon touching him, Hawks found him burning up. Actually, the whole bed was getting hot.
“Baby?” Hawks shifted closer, and Dabi tucked his face into Hawks’ chest with a whimper.
“Mom…”
Fuck, okay, way to break his heart like that. (And make him outrageously uncomfortable.)
“Dabi, hey—”
Then Dabi convulsed and brought up a wave of hot vomit, all over Hawks’ bare chest.
Now, it wasn’t really Dabi’s fault for throwing up all over him, but acknowledging that didn’t lessen the amount of puke dripping down his torso.
“Fuck—”
Hawks scrambled back, feathers flying every which way as he took shelter on the bedside table. It was about then that the water in the mattress, already overheated from Dabi’s body, decided to boil over. With a loud pop , the mattress blew out. All the water flooded over onto the hardwood floors, taking Dabi with it.
There goes my security deposit.
“Dabi!”
Dabi pushed himself up on shaking arms and braced against the bed frame, dazed and disoriented and still nauseated.
“... What the fuck is happening?”
“You tell me, hot shot!” Hawks was near-shout, but conscious of his neighbors and the fact it was two o’clock in the morning. “Woke up to you whining and heating up, tried waking you, you called me mommy , threw up, and then my fucking bed boiled over!”
Dabi’s nose wrinkled slightly. “That sounds weird…”
“Yeah! Kinda weird!” His heart hadn’t stopped pounding yet. His anger was nothing but well-disguised alarm.
Dabi hiccupped. “‘M gonna puke again…”
“No the fuck you aren’t!” Hawks’ feathers shot over to the waste bin below his desk and practically shoved it into Dabi’s lap— and not a moment too soon. Hawks winced as Dabi doubled over himself to retch, exposing the lean muscle that stretched over his shoulder blades.
Dabi was broader than you’d realize at the first couple glances. It was because he slouched; he curled in on himself like a baby’s fist. But once you took that into account, it was easy to see Dabi had quite the set of shoulders on him. Hawks often wondered what he’d look like if he was properly nourished, and got a little scared at the thought. Dabi already towered over him by several inches. The villain’s string-bean stature was kind of a blessing.
Hawks wiped himself down as best he could with a towel from the bathroom and did a round of deep breathing while his feathers returned to him. Dabi remained on the floor next to the bed, choking and spluttering.
“Okay, okay.” He rounded the foot of the bed and crouched beside Dabi, careful not to touch before he asked. “What can I do?”
“J-just—” Dabi coughed, gagged, and spat a glob of saliva into the bin. “I— I don’t—”
“That’s alright.” His hand itched to comfort, to caress. “Can I touch you?”
Dabi made a sort of strangled groaning sound, which Hawks equated to a yes . He palmed the curve of Dabi’s spine, the pads of his fingers running over each bump of vertebra.
“I guess my bed isn't the best if you've got a sensitive stomach,” Hawks said, which was the closest he would come to an apology. (Hey, Dabi broke his bed.)
Dabi sat back from the bin, chest heaving as he caught his breath, eyes squeezed shut. Hawks had seen Dabi vomit before, but it hadn't spurred on this reaction. This panic.
“Hey,” he said. He squeezed Dabi’s knee. “Dabi.”
Dabi shook his head without a word, breathing hard and shaking and clearly doing everything he could not to light up right there in Hawks’ bedroom.
“Nah, you gotta talk to me. You made my damn mattress explode.”
Dabi scoffed, but it was more a rough exhale than anything.
“Put your head between your knees,” Hawks instructed, guiding Dabi into the position. “And try to breathe from your belly instead of your chest.”
Dabi didn’t retort or object, which concerned him; it meant that whatever Dabi was dealing with was taking all his attention and energy, leaving none to be his usual asshole self.
“You’re okay,” Hawks murmured. “Scared the shit outta me and boiled my bed, but you’re okay.”
After a few minutes, Dabi’s breathing slowed and the trembling subsided.
“‘M alright,” Dabi croaked, shrugging out of Hawks’ touch.
“Yeah?” Hawks tightened his now-empty hand into a fist, resisting the urge to smooth back Dabi’s rat’s nest of hair.
What had Dabi said in his sleep? Make Dad pull over… ?
“Bad dream, huh?” He asked.
Dabi finally opened his eyes. Even in the dark, Hawks could discern the blue in them.
“I’m not telling you anything.”
Frustration sparked behind his breastbone. “You still don't trust me,” he said. “You'll fuck me and spend the night in my bed, but you won't talk to me.”
“Don't take it so personally.” Dabi swallowed hard, then muffled a sick belch into his hand. “Ugh, oh god…”
Hawks nudged the bin towards him, hardened gaze softening slightly as Dabi leaned over it to dry-heave.
He had difficulty admitting it to himself, but it was time to fess up; his actions weren’t simply Commission-driven anymore. His curiosity, his desire— his need — to know, it wasn’t for the pure sake of espionage. He’d had a feeling, when this all began, that it would happen eventually. His current company had left a stain he couldn’t scrub away, given him a fever he couldn’t sweat out.
Which is all to say, Hawks wanted to know Dabi for no other reason than his own heart. And maybe to snuff out the feeling that he’d known Dabi his whole life while barely knowing him at all.
“Stop doing that,” Dabi rasped.
“Doing what?”
“The staring thing.”
Hawks blinked a few times to compensate. “Didn’t realize.” When Dabi cleared his throat, he got to his feet and added, “lemme get you some water, yeah?”
“No, no—” Dabi latched onto his wrist. “You gotta stay.”
Hawks tucked his wings against his back to hide the fact his primaries had fluffed. “Are you good?”
“I just…” Dabi exhaled and leaned against the bed frame. “If you go, I feel like…”
“What, you’ll freak out?”
“Not the words I’d use,” Dabi grumbled. “It helps to have…” He shook his head and restarted. “It helps to not be alone.”
Hawks thought his heart might melt out of his pores. “Okay,” he said, and sat back down on the wet floor. “You let me know when you’re ready.”
“‘Kay.”
They sat in silence for a while, and Hawks couldn’t take it. He wasn’t good at that, letting the silence be. He didn’t know how to make it comfortable.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Depends,” Dabi replied. “Probably not.”
“If I wasn’t who I was,” Hawks went on anyway, “but we were still what we are. Would that change anything?”
Dabi thought for a moment, one of the longest moments of Hawks’ life, and then shook his head. “It’s not about who you are,” he said. “It’s who I am.”
Disappointment bled from Hawks’ lungs into his throat and formed an awful, sour lump. But then Dabi rested his head on his shoulder, and he decided he should feel grateful instead— grateful to have any part of Dabi at all.