Chapter Text
“Anyway, that’s it for today,” Dabi takes his feet down from the table between the two and stands. “I’ll catch ya next week, birdie.” He turns, a hand out in a waving motion as he strides towards the exit.
Hawks’ leg bounces anxiously at a mile a minute.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck- now, give it to him now. Quick- hurry up he's nearly at the door! How can you be called a man too fast for his own good if you’re this slow? Shit- now now now now!’
The weight in his pocket becomes too much to bare, Hawks quickly grabs the source of the weight and throws it. Without staying to watch Dabi’s reaction, he quickly flies out the back doors.
Something hard hits the back of Dabi’s head before smacking down to the ground. He quickly turns, arms already ignited in flickering blue flames. When he’s faced with nothing, he looks around in confusion, lets the flames extinguish, and looks to the ground. Cocking an eyebrow, Dabi picks up the object of his surprise.
A small cassette tape now sits in his hand. There’s no title or indication of what songs or recordings could be on it, just a small, scribbled on ‘Dabi’ written in sharpie. Curiosity gets the best of him as Dabi stuffs it in his pocket and continues back to the LoV hideout.
“Heyyyyy Dabi! How was your super secret meeting with your super secret informant?” Toga grins from a booth occupied by herself and Magne.
“Strange.” He answers vaguely, pushing Toga farther into the booth so he can sit. She giggles and scootches over.
Magne sips at her bendy straw and smiles. “You two could be siblings, ya know? Kinda reminds me of my two little cousins, they act a lot like you guys.”
“Take it back right now, Magne. Take it back.”
“I’ve never been more offended ever in my entire life, Magne. You realize he doesn’t shower, right? You know that? I’ve never seen him walk into or out of that bathroom. I’m eighty percent sure he doesn’t know what soap is.”
“That’s the shit you put in your hair to clean it.”
Toga stares at him, mortified. “Is that why your hair feels like that?”
“Fuck you, I’m not taking this.” Dabi turns and looks over at the bar counter. “Yo, Compress, you got a tape player?”
An unmasked Mr. Compress turns in his seat at the bar. “That’s Mr. Compress, y’know. I didn’t get married for nothing.” He says, showing off a ringed hand. Dabi stares at him blankly. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a tape player. It’s in Shigaraki’s room.”
A moment later an exhausted Shigaraki shuffles through the door and takes a seat at the counter, laying his head down on it. “Damn, speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Hey, gamer, gimme the tape player Compress lent you.” Dabi says. Toga makes grabby hands from behind him.
Shigaraki looks up from the counter. “See, I would, but I still have like three hours of pokemon music to listen to on it, soooo… find your own?” He turns and leans over the counter, grabbing a can of ginger ale before sitting back down.
“Ooooh, Dabi get owned by your boss.”
“Shut up, he’s your boss too, you dumb. Tomura I’m just gonna grab it if you don’t cough it up.”
Shigaraki sticks his tongue out. “Dabi I’m just gonna disintegrated your entire stash of secret hair dye if you don’t cough up an entire lung. Heat up my lunch and you can use it, microwave’s broken again.”
An exchange of hot food and tape player later, Dabi stuffs the player into his pocket next to the cassette tape. He opens the door, “I’m goin’ out.”
Toga waves excitedly, Shigaraki motions a hand in acknowledgement. “Be home by eight or whenever as long as you bring back snacks.”
Dabi blows him a raspberry before walking out, the vague sound of multiple other people blowing a raspberry right back at him is cut off as the door shuts. Toga’s probably gonna have to tell Shigaraki that it’s already past eleven.
Dabi pushes his sleeves down to cover his arm scars and shuffles a scarf out of his jacket, carefully putting it on to cover his facial and chest scars, while being mindful not to let it rub against them too much. It’s not much of a disguise, but the darkness of night helps enough to avoid glances.
Nightly walks are always nice, especially when you have something in your pocket to look forward to. Dabi reaches into his pocket and takes out the mixtape. The scribbled ‘Dabi’ makes him curious. Is it gonna be a resignation? Hawks wasn’t technically in the League yet, so that wouldn’t make sense. Is it blackmail? Has Hawks been recording him? That’s stupid, he wouldn’t give him the recording if it was for blackmail.
As the number of people around him dwindles down, Dabi slips into an alley and walks along the back of the buildings. He hops a fence and makes his way through an empty parking lot into an abandoned apartment complex.
He taps each door as he walks down a hallway, singeing each until he stops at a door labeled ‘303’. He flips the mailbox open, takes a key out, and shimmies the door open.
‘Home sweet home.’
Shutting the door behind him, Dabi drops the keys and scarf on a small shelf near the door and walks a little farther into the apartment before dropping down onto a couch. It was a little run down and the paint on the walls peal in a few spots, but it wasn’t the worst place to live. Far from the worst.
He chuckles out a laugh at the melancholy inside joke and pulls the tape and player out from his pocket. He flips it over, inspecting it. Same as before, nothing but his name.
‘Who owns cassette tapes anymore?’
It takes a minute to figure out how the tape player works, but once he starts to get it Dabi pops the cassette into it and hits play.
He isn’t sure what he expected. Maybe a confession of tricking him, maybe a long winded re-explanation of why Dabi should let him into the League that he couldn’t fit in a previous meeting. Hell, maybe even a rant on how much he hates his job again. He isn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t music.
Insane, inside the danger gets me high. Can’t help myself, got secrets I can’t tell.
This is not something he expected Hawks would listen to. He’d expected something upbeat and bubbly- or, hell, even bird calls. Dabi’s thumb hovers over the eject button when the next few lines stop him.
I love the smell of gasoline. I light the match to taste the heat. I’ve always liked to play with fire.
Ah. So that’s why his name was written on the tape. It’s a mixtape based on-… him.
Dabi ignores the weird feeling that squirms in his gut at the thought of Hawks making something about him. He lets it play, repositioning himself on the couch to lay on his back with his arms behind his head, the player resting on his chest.
“What was I thinking?!” Hawks groans as he covers his eyes with his palms, laying off the edge of his couch. “Giving a villain a mixtape? Making a mixtape? Who even owns cassette tapes anymore?!”
He didn’t stay to watch how Dabi would react, and Hawks was starting to regret it.
A wing thumps uselessly onto the floor as Hawks throws an arm off his face. He glares at the ceiling and blows a raspberry at it. When it doesn’t respond he pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts. His thumb hovers over the contact ‘Roasted Hottie’, but quickly taps the contact above it; ‘Rabbit Ass’.
She picks up on the second ring. Her voice sounds quiet and strained. “Hey birdbrain, I’m a bit busy right now-“
“Heyyyyy Rumi, I could really use some of your famous advice and you don’t sound super busy right now, so do you think you could help a friend out?” His mouth runs faster than his brain does, only processing what she’d said as he finishes.
“I just said-“ She groans, “Hawks, I’m on a date. Isn’t this something you can postpone?”
He perks up and grins. “A date? Cool! What’s she like? Is she pretty? This a first date or something?”
“Yes, she’s very pretty and sitting right across from me. Just- can you hurry this up? What the hell kind of advice does the number two hero even need?”
“Oh normal advice, y’know, basic stuff. Hypothetically speaking, when trying to woo someone, do you think giving them a mixtape based on them is a good idea? Follow up, do people own cassette tapes anymore? Would it be a bad idea if I keep making mixtapes? Rumi, I already made two more.”
He hears her sigh, likely shaking her head at his incompetence. “Hawks, dude. Okay listen, I think making a mixtape for someone on its own is a kind of romantic gesture, I guess? But if you did it based on the person you’re giving it to then I’d say it’s kinda obvious what you’re getting at. Unless they’re super oblivious which would mean you’d have to be a bit more forward. Hey, isn’t this how Present Mic first asked his husband out? It worked out for him, so it’ll probably go well for you too.”
Hawks’ heart and wings flutter at the ‘H’ word. “I’m not sure he’d be- I dunno if I think marriage would be possible. He’s, uh,” He quickly thinks for an excuse, “-goth.” Hawks drags a hand down his face and bites back a frustrated groan. “Anyway, you think it’s a good idea? Cause unless you haven’t guessed this wasn’t hypothetical like I’d said. He’s not really an open book so I’m not sure how he’d respond.”
A gloved hand scratches the back of his neck when Rumi doesn’t respond. He knows she’s apologizing to her date- he has very good hearing. If the laughter is a clue, it sounds like her date doesn’t mind much, which Hawks is pretty thankful for, considering this wasn’t the first date of Rumi’s that he’s interrupted.
“Who is this guy anyway? Have I met him? Must be someone stupid hot to catch your sky high standards. Think we’d get along?”
“Oh you’ve met him alright, that’s for sure.” Hawks chuckles. They had ‘met’ at High End when Rumi jumped in to save the day, not necessarily a good first impression. First impressions aren’t everything though, maybe they would get along? “Oh my god you guys would never get along. You’d probably kick his head in the moment you’d see him.”
She snorts on the other line. “Aw, c’mon! He’s prolly not that bad.”
‘You’d think that, right?’
“Yeah, well… Alright, I think I’m just gonna stay on track with my amazing cassette tape flirting idea, and let you go back to your date. Thanks Rumi!” He waits a moment for her to acknowledge his goodbye before hanging up.
Hawks sits up on the couch before anymore blood can rush to his head, fans his wings out to their full length, and stretches until he hears a satisfying pop from his shoulder. He glances at his bird clock on the wall, standing as he does so and shrugs on his hero jacket. A con to being the number two hero is that you get all the late night patrol shifts, and it doesn't help that he gets long daytime hours to match.
He puts his headphones and visor on and shuffles his shoes on, careful not to cut them by mistake with his talons, making a mental note to file them a bit later.
Hawks climbs onto his apartment’s balcony space and jumps. He soars off to his patrol area of the night, hoping to get his mind off of Dabi.