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It’s cool and misty inside the cave, and the light of the fading sun barely trickles in through the few inlets, carrying with it the constant boom of waves crashing against the cliff below. It’d almost be a nice place for a retreat - calming, remote, with a stunning view near the mouth of the cave, if the pirate’s memory was serving him well enough.
Too bad circumstances made enjoying it so difficult.
The tenth blow lands like an anvil, catching Dabi so hard across the cheek his head snaps to the side, yanking his neck and rattling his teeth. The pirate rocks on his knees, grinding more bruises into his abused flesh.
The chains cinching his hands behind his back clink with the shift, chafing already bloody wrists.
He blinks a couple of times, trying to clear the spots from his vision as he swallows down the blood pooling in his mouth. With the rank cloth stuffed behind his teeth and the harsh leather belt holding said rag in place, it’s the only direction for the blood to go.
Brass-covered knuckles waggle in front of his dazed blue eyes - mocking in their frivolity. Dabi sneers as best he can with his decidedly broken nose, ignoring the raucous laughter that follows when blood pours out over his upper lip and onto his bare chest. The sound of guffaws is muffled to Dabi anyway - at the far end of a blown eardrum, in fact.
Maybe I’ll go blind too and won’t have to look at these blaggards either, Dabi thinks with morbid amusement.
The blaggards in question - ten, maybe twelve of them - are gathered around in a tight circle, each eager to take their turn against the pirate. The fact that they’re all of the same ilk evidently makes no difference to them.
Sweaty and dirty, they press in close, their gap-toothed mouths open in harsh jeers and nasty grins. The stench of them, even through Dabi’s broken nose, is almost overwhelming, and the heat certainly doesn’t do them any favors. It’s only midmorning, but in the dimness of the cave they had dozens of torches burning strong, permeating their stench throughout the cave.
The torches also cast light on their faces, but Dabi doesn’t recognize any of them except for the oily, cruel ring leader.
Hedoro, the bastard. Circling Dabi like a slow, malicious cyclone. He’s smirking down at Dabi’s kneeling form, gloved fingers tapping against his chin. Each leather-clad finger is tipped with gaudy, golden claws that the thug apparently thought make him look fierce.
Dabi scoffs against his gag, wishing he could inform the human incarnation of slime that nothing could make his bulbous features appear fierce.
One of the men must take issue with Dabi’s disgusted expression, because he feels a solid cuff catch him painfully across his pierced ear. Hedoro laughs and circles around the pirate again, quite obviously enjoying having the famed Dabi at his mercy.
“Oh, don’t be rude to our guest, now,” Hedoro chides, voice sounding from behind the pirate. Gloved fingers thread through Dabi’s hair - almost petting, almost stroking. It’s all the worse for the fact that different hands had been in his hair only hours ago, and Dabi had enjoyed them.
These make his skin crawl.
More blood pools in his mouth, soaking into the rag, and he swallows against his will, his pried-back lips scraping against old leather. The smooth, low voice keeps talking behind him, sounding fuzzy. Like Dabi has an ass-load of seawater in his ear.
“You do know just who we’re hosting tonight, don’t you boys?” Those gloved fingers tighten in his hair, twisting right at the roots near his forehead. Reflexive tears burn behind the pirate’s eyes, but he doesn’t allow them to fall. Will not fucking let them fall.
Hedoro’s other hand comes around to cup his jaw, not even trying to avoid his staple line. Targeting it, in fact.
The bastard digs a gold-clawed finger directly under one of the little bronze loops holding healthy skin to burn scars. That finger tugs tortuously slow, and Dabi feels his cheek stretching, giving, until the metal finally rips free. Blood, hot as candle wax, trails down his cheek, spilling over the leather belt digging into his face, and pain spasms along the scars - reminding him of injuries over half a decade old.
Dabi forces those memories down with a ruthlessness his captors would quail at.
Instead, he heaves in a shallow, wet breath, sending more blood spurting down the back of his throat. His lungs ache with the need to cough. His hands itch with the need to fucking gut the sonuvabitch talking.
“We have in our midst Todoroki Touya, the son of Admiral Todoroki himself!” Hedoro announces cruelly, presenting Dabi to the gathered throng in theatric fashion.
The men explode into riotous motion, rattling sabers, knives - even a hammer - in his direction. Like dogs, howling for a piece of meat. Dabi glares as muffled boos, furious shouts, and absolutely vile curses bounce around the confines of the cave they’re in, ricocheting in a way that’s painful, even to his damaged ears.
They’re practically frothing at the mouth, they hate the bastard so much, he thinks, watching the men press in. So fucking ironic.
He closes his eyes for just a moment, loathing this. Loathing who he is. Loathing what happens next.
Hedoro releases his hair and steps back - an unspoken invitation.
“Let’s send the dear old admiral a message, eh boys?”
The first kick catches Dabi low in the ribs. In the little floaty one, in particular. He feels it when it snaps. He takes it without flinching.
It’s how the old man raised me.
Still, it hurts. And not just physically.
It hurts knowing that only a few hours before, warm hands had been stroking his chest and finding him ticklish in that exact same spot. The realization had surprised them both, and that gorgeous blond head had fallen against his ribs, laughing and playfully rubbing soft hair into sensitive skin. Dabi hadn’t laughed that hard in… years .
The next blow comes from something solid and wooden. Maybe a baton, maybe the butt of a gun. It clocks him in the jaw just under his left ear and sends brilliant spots dancing across his closed lids.
Not at all like the last time he’d had spots dancing behind his eyes. Chest heaving, face flushed, fingers clenching into sheets.
No. No, this was not at all like the last time. But Dabi needs at least the same recovery time before he can see straight again.
Something… something metal presses against his thigh. And the pirate’s bleary eyes open just long enough to see the flash of a muzzle.
Agony rocks through him as fast as the bullet does, and Dabi groans helplessly into the gag, damn near passing out from the pain. The echoing roar of the gun in the cave drowns out the jeers, and Dabi sways unsteadily. His leg is a rictus of throbbing hurt and horrible, horrible pulsing. Like his life blood is leaving him.
Maybe it is. Maybe this is the way it ends.
He pants hard against the blood clogging his airways, desperately wishing he could spit. Cough. Fucking kill the bastards gathered around him who thought murdering him would hurt his old man.
You’d… be doing the bastard… a favor… the pirate thinks in a furious haze of pain. Fucking watch him give you all medals.
Maybe that’s what this was, though. An opportunity for reward.
No, he thinks desperately. No, he wouldn’t do that to me.
That playful laugh. Those golden eyes looking up at him with what Dabi thought might be love.
He… he was the only one who knew I was in port. The thought hurts far more than the next agonizing blow to his sternum.
A searing kiss on the tavern dance floor had been all it’d taken for Dabi to lose every last scrap of caution. Even after a month and a blistering fight had gone by. Even knowing Hawks was a weapon of the empire Dabi had left behind.
Could they have warped him? Changed him, like they tried to change me? Dabi wonders, heart stuttering in pain. Could he touch me like that and then sell me for gold?
No. No, he can’t think about that. He really will break if he does.
It’s a bitter mercy when someone gets the wise idea to start on his fingers. His hands. The only assets that make him worthwhile at what he does.
“Nnngghh,” Dabi snarls through his gag, trying to pull away. One knee shuffles forward, but his injured one sends out a spasm of anguish that locks him up from hip to ankle. Without intending to, his body bows forward, spine curving and stomach roiling with nausea.
Don’t throw up. The thought is heady - a prayer as much as fucking panic. If he pukes, he will choke. There’s no getting around that.
His distraction is his downfall and one of the assholes manages to get his pinky free of his fist. Dabi’s heart pounds against his busted ribs, and the back of his sweaty neck feels cold with primal fear.
The snap echoes in the cave despite the howls and the cheers of those in attendance, and Dabi’s face twists in pain, his eyes clenching shut again. Hot bodies press all around him, grabbing at him, trying to be the next one in line to break him.
Cold sweeps down his scalp as they force another finger free of his balled fists, and Dabi feels a pressure like a massive, thick blanket begin to fold around his senses. Rather than reject the feeling, he pulls it tighter, curling into it. Like he’d curled into warm arms and soft sheets in the almost surreal peachy dawn light.
He goes back to it, knowing that if he has to die, that’s where he wants to be.
Even if it is a lie.
Hawks is there, dancing with him. Drinking with him. They sing a ridiculous shanty together that they’d learned back in the naval academy. Only this time they’re laughing too hard to remember most of the words.
How long has it been? Since I laughed so much?
Another grisly crack jolts his body, and bolts of pain crank up his arms to bury themselves in his strained shoulders. Dabi fights to get back to the tavern, the music. Dancing in time with his best friend, his heart.
They never lasted long on the dance floor. In the low light of Sako’s infamous bar, Hawks’ eyes weren’t golden so much as they were liquid ichor. And honestly, Dabi wouldn’t be surprised if the blood of the gods were flowing through his veins. They’d certainly touched heaven often enough that night for it to be true.
Something too heavy to be a sword hilt hits him so hard in the spine that Dabi’s body goes absolutely numb for a full ten seconds. His mind screams with the pain that his throat is too locked up to voice.
A cascade of brutal, unforgiving agony radiates out from the impact point, staggering Dabi’s breath in his lungs and sending his temporarily stopped heart into overdrive.
His vision fades, blackening at the edges. He can’t… he can’t quite feel much anymore. And he’s seen enough to know that’s not a good thing.
Wish, he thinks brokenly. Wish I hadn’t left. Wish I was back in bed with him.
An image of Hawks’ wide grin paints itself against his eyelids, and he can practically hear his old friend telling him to stay and waste the day away with him. Get back to what they’d been doing all night, ya know?
Just… wanted to get him breakfast. Do something nice for him for a change.
Dabi’s throat feels tight in a way that has nothing to do with his body shutting down or the jeers being called at him. All he wants - all he’s ever needed in life, is to be there with Hawks. Bodies pressed together, fingers in each other’s hair, lips pressed into feverish skin.
“Nnnhhh,” the pirate groans, and it sounds distant to his own ears. There’s a great amount of noise that follows, but Dabi doesn’t fucking care anymore. He only… he only wants to go home.
Hands reach out and grip his shoulders roughly. Calloused, instead of gloved like the ringleader’s. The pirate shrugs at them uselessly, sending another spasm of pain through his back that leaves him breathless. The hands pull away, but the noise increases. And suddenly there’s a presence directly in front of him, calling his name.
“-bi, Dabi can you hear me?? Fuck, don’t worry, I’m going to get you out of here.”
Something is pulling at his arms, digging at his already bloody wrists. Dabi’s breath whistles through his nose as he fights against throwing up, passing out, or both.
“Please, please you have to be okay. Dabi, I -” the voice chokes off in what sounds like a sob.
The chains clank to the ground, and Dabi’s tensed arms go slack, letting blood roar back through the constricted veins. The headrush that follows is almost more than he can handle.
A soft, pained noise catches in his throat - catches on blood. And the cough that tries to follow is brutal.
“Oh fuck, hold on let me get the gag out and -” the voice cuts off as hands work at the twisted leather at the back of his head. The spasms in Dabi’s lungs continue, robbing him of air, making muscles contract around broken ribs.
The world fades, but the final straw is someone pulling the cloth from his mouth, finally allowing him a full gasp of air.
Blood pours down the back of his throat from his broken nose, and he heaves.
It’s too much - too much pain and shock.
Everything finally goes black.
——
Heart in his throat, Hawks watches as Sako confers with their local doctor on Dabi’s condition. Their heads are bent together in the light of several lamps that Sako had hauled out of storage, talking in hushed voices. Already, they’d had to refill the oil twice to keep the light going as the night dragged on into early dawn.
Hawks paces, one arm wrapped tightly around his ribs and the other braced against his chest as he bites into his knuckle. Worn floorboards creak under his unending steps, and the dull clamor of laughter and music thrum from behind the door each time he passes it. Sako had put them up in one of the rooms farthest from the main dining and dancing area of the tavern.
The noise barely registers to Hawks. It barely occurs to him that he and Dabi had been dancing and laughing and singing just like everyone else only the night before. The only thing that he can think of, that plays on repeat over and over in his mind, is sprinting into that fucking cave and seeing a hammer slam into Dabi’s back.
He closes his eyes, sickened, horrified and livid, remembering the way Dabi’s battered face had crumpled in absolute agony.
Hawks slows his pacing, then stops dead, risking a glance over at Sako and the doctor, huddled around Dabi’s unconscious form. A shudder rocks his spine as he watches the doctor firmly reset two badly twisted fingers on the pirates left hand. His dominant one, Hawks remembers, despite him being ambidextrous.
Another helpless shiver wracks Hawks’ body as the doctor gently lays Dabi’s bandaged hand down on the futon. Anxiety, fury, and shock have had him shivering intermittently for hours, but he refused to take the doctor’s directive to lay down. He couldn’t rest until he knew Dabi would be okay.
Now if only he could force himself to go over to him. He grinds his teeth, wondering when he’d become such a yellow-bellied coward.
Sako sees him hovering in pained indecision by the door and gestures him over. Stealing himself, Hawks moves closer until he can hear what the innkeeper and the doctor are saying.
“The blow to his spine is concerning,” the doctor says in a low voice, her wizened hands running along the bumps of Dabi’s vertebrae. There is an enormous bruise blossoming even through the darkened scars that run across Dabi’s shoulders and back. The pirate is lying on his side to keep pressure off his busted rib cage, his head resting in the doctor’s lap - a mess of black hair against light blue cloth. Hawks isn’t sure if he’s grateful or distressed not to be able to see the pirate’s face, as brutalized as it is.
“Concerning in what way?” Sako asks, voice also low in consideration of their unconscious charge. “Are you saying he might not walk again?”
Hawks’ stomach lurches in a way the sea never causes, and he releases a terrified breath.
“It’s possible,” the doctor admits, her tone never changing from calmly informative, for all that she’d known Dabi since he was a teenager. Her almost motherly stroking through the pirate’s dark hair is the only thing that keeps Hawks from losing his mind. “Though from what Keigo said, he was still upright when they found him?”
The statement is a question to Hawks, and he meets both pairs of brown eyes that look up at him. All he can do is give a jerky nod in return.
Sako sighs and wipes blood from his hands with a warm towel. With his steadier fingers, he’d been the one to work on putting the pirate’s face back together. Hawks hadn’t been in any state of mind with the adrenaline and fear pumping through his veins.
He knows he should go out into the hall, talk to Yu and Rumi… see what they’d discovered about the ambush and kidnapping. Knows he should probably rest after all the hours of stress and the brief but vicious fight he’d been in. His cheek and knee still ache from the encounter, if he’s being honest.
But he can’t. There’s an almost stinging anger lodged right at the crown of his head like a swarm of wasps. It’s his battle blood, he knows. The drill instructors at the academy had talked about it. It starts afresh at every new bruise, cut, and break revealed on Dabi’s body.
It makes him want to kill those men all over again.
There’s also a weight, like an anchor, yanking down at his guts every time he looks at the pirate. That he didn’t need any instructor to explain. He knows the feeling well enough.
It’s guilt.
I’m the reason they found him. Knew he was here at all, Hawks thinks miserably. He closes his eyes only for a second before he forces them back open. Forces himself to look at what he’s done.
Jaw clenching, Hawks walks over to Sako, gesturing for him to get back to his inn duties. He doesn’t take his eyes off Dabi, but Sako seems to understand. The innkeeper rises from his kneeling position with joints cracking from so long spent in one spot, and Hawks kneels in his place. Distantly, he hears the door close as Sako exits.
Dabi’s bruised chest rises and falls with soft breaths, brought on by the poppy milk they’d gotten down his throat earlier. It’d be an almost peaceful look if not for his battered, beaten face.
Hawks hesitates when he reaches out, fingers hovering in the air as if searching for something undamaged to touch. Eventually, he runs a light knuckle along the pirate’s dark brow. A halfway amused thought occurs to him and he finds himself smiling through a tight throat.
“He dyes his eyebrows too,” he explains to the healer, even though she hadn’t asked. “I’m not sure I ever noticed.”
She hums in response and continues stroking Dabi’s thick, ink-dark hair. In the flickering of the lamps though, Hawks can see just the barest hints of red beginning to show at the roots. Probably he’d been too distracted to catch the difference the night before. Having Dabi’s tongue on his throat would do that to him.
“There’re a lot of things I don’t notice,” Hawks admits quietly. In the flickering of the oil lamps, the brutal contrast of scars and skin, bruises and cuts, are thrown into sharp relief. The pirate looks one knock from the Locker.
Hawks runs an impossibly gentle finger along Dabi’s shoulder, his touch faltering along the uneven scarring. “Never noticed when these started cropping up with all the long sleeves he started wearing. Just figured Dabi got cold. Figured he’d gotten tired of burning in the sun.”
He continues his soft exploration, dipping fingers into the pirate’s hair, while the healer pulls back. “Never noticed how much he hated the red, or what it meant to him. Why he’d stay at the academy instead of going home over the holidays.”
Hawks’ voice is ragged through the tears he hadn’t even realized were falling. Just another thing to add to his list.
“Never, never noticed, like a goddamn imbecile that I was being followed.” Hawks is crying fully now, tears rolling down his cheeks and blurring the evidence of his stupidity in front of him. “Even Sako said it - where one of us goes, the other’s not far behind.”
“Keigo,” the doctor murmurs. “This is not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” Hawks asks, voice cracking. “I’m the one who wrote him, asking him to come. Told him I’d be here for a week and that we should catch up .” He laughs humorlessly. His fingers trace down to Dabi’s bandaged wrist, knowing that the staple line there had been ruined by the manacles holding the pirate in place.
There’s another cut on Dabi’s thumb that is weeping soft pearls of blood. Without hesitating, Hawks pulls off his bandana, wrapping it around the wound to staunch the bleeding. Blue silk stains red and Hawks bows his head, letting the tears fall. He holds Dabi’s hand like a lifeline.
“I,” he starts, chokes, and tries again. “I’m supposed to be naval intelligence. And I didn’t notice a rival crew in town?” He laughs scornfully at himself. “Worse, one with a history with Admiral Todoroki.”
“S’not your fault,” a haggard voice whispers. Hawks’ eyes jerk up to see the barest slits of tired blue peering up at him. The pirate’s mouth quirks just the tiniest bit.
“Dabi…” Hawks breathes, brows furrowing in concern. His fingers clutch reflexively around Dabi’s.
“Hey, pretty bird,” the pirate sighs. Hawks wipes at his tears, hoping futilely that he hadn’t seen. But the softness and remorse in Dabi’s gaze indicate that he had.
“Hi,” Hawks mutters back, “How do you feel?”
Dabi snorts through his swollen nose. “Like I got pistol-whipped. Think we can forego that -” he breaks off, coughing slightly. Hawks watches in alarm as deep black bruises across the pirate's ribs constrict with the muscles underneath. From experience, he knows how badly Dabi must be hurting right now.
“Why don’t you get Dabi a pillow,” the doctor says quietly. Hawks had half forgotten she was there, and startles slightly at her wispy old voice. Dabi also glances up at her, and she smiles down at him in return. “Then I’m going to make you some tea - will that be alright?”
Hawks nods at her, rising wearily to his feet and making his way over to the linen cupboard. Inside, two nice feather pillows await, and he grabs them both without thought.
They get Dabi transferred from lap to pillow with surprisingly little fuss and an unsurprising amount of wincing. The doctor tells him not to move before she exits, but the fact that the pirate doesn’t even try to rise on his own power tells Hawks that he might not know how badly Dabi is hurting right now. That this might just be the worst he’s ever been.
So it’s with a lump in his throat that he lays the other pillow down next to Dabi’s and then stretches out on the futon alongside the pirate. Weary, pained eyes meet his across the minimal distance.
“How long?” Dabi asks. The fingers of his good hand flex out, and Hawks catches them again without thinking.
“Just a day,” the lieutenant replies, fussing with the bandana still pressed into Dabi’s thumb. He ties it properly this time, and then fusses with the knot a bit. Trying to make it perfect. Avoiding Dabi’s searching eyes.
But not for long. Never for long.
“It was my fault,” Hawks admits, picking up where they’d left off. “I invited you here, and then I went drinking, and people were asking what I was so damned happy about, and I fucking knew it could mean trouble but I got so damn cocky and -” Dabi sighs gustily into his face, breaking off his rant.
“Shut up,” the pirate says. Succinct and to the point. As always. Hawks feels his chest trembling with pain.
“Dabi,” he whispers, “I almost got you killed.” He grips with light fingers around the pirate’s bandaged wrists, not-so-subtly reminding him of the manacles. “I did get you tortured. God, I can’t believe -” Dabi pinches Hawks’ wrist with blunted nails.
“I’m too tired to argue with you,” the pirate groans. “And it hurts too fucking much to move. But if you don’t get your face over here right now I swear I’m going to fucking gut you when I get up.”
Hawks blinks in surprise and inches forward as an almost reflex to Dabi’s demanding tone. The pirate, apparently, has enough energy left to cross the final inch between their lips.
It’s a soft kiss - more gentle than either of them has ever been with each other. Hawks doesn’t close his eyes immediately, so he sees when Dabi’s brows come together in something like pain. Something like relief. His heart flutters at the sight and his eyes slip closed.
He holds himself there, moving his mouth languidly, perfectly against Dabi’s. The pirate’s lips are dry and the inside of his teeth tastes of blood, but Hawks doesn’t care. Dabi is warm and alive and here, and his mouth moves against Hawks’ in a dance so familiar it’s like breathing.
I could live forever here, Hawks thinks, tracing his tongue carefully across Dabi’s scarred lip. The pirate presses forward as best he can, chasing after Hawks’ mouth. Hawks doesn’t deny the pirate his prize. He never could.
Finally, with one last tug of teeth on lower lip, Dabi sighs and pulls away, opening weary blue eyes. Like ocean waves, exhausted and still after a maelstrom.
Unable to stop himself, Hawks leans up into Dabi, pressing another light kiss to the pirate’s lips. Then he continues up along the line of scarring across his cheek, pausing at the bandage where one of his piercings had been forcibly removed.
He presses the lightest of kisses against the bandage, and Dabi’s cheek shifts against his - a mute protest to Hawks’ grief.
It’s the protest of an ember against a rainstorm, at this point.
“I’m so sorry,” Hawks apologizes silently against Dabi’s scarred jaw, chapped lips catching on the ridges of burns long since healed. That Dabi had to take more damage because of him makes Hawks’ heart knot with pain. But he knows the pirate won’t accept it if he begs for forgiveness. Somewhere along the way, Dabi had gotten the idea that Hawks could do no wrong.
That’s because he loves you, some part of his brain that sounds remarkably like Rumi points out. He inhales sharply, and the familiar smell of Dabi’s skin - the salt of sweat, the iron of blood, and the indescribable scent that reminded him of smoke on the water, that reminded him of Dabi - nearly brings tears to his eyes again.
To think that the warm body in front of him could have been cold in a grave, smelling of nothing but rot - is almost too much to bear.
Pushing those thoughts away, he continues his trail of kisses across Dabi’s brow - the same one he’d noticed was dyed earlier - and makes his way around the arch of his brow and down to his nose. Those kisses are beyond gentle in deference to the recently reset cartilage, knowing that if Dabi didn’t already have dark scars under his eyes, the bruising from the broken nose would be far more evident.
The pirate’s eyes had slipped closed under the tender treatment, and Hawks couldn’t resist the urge to place one feather-light kiss to each eyelid. He completes the circuit by gently pushing back Dabi’s bangs and pressing a lingering kiss to the center of his forehead. Like a benediction. Like a confession.
The pirate releases a shuddery breath, dark lashes fluttering against scar tissue. Hawks pulls back, heart staggering in his chest, and digs his cheek into the soft linen and the plush feathers.
“Is there anything I can do?” He whispers, unable to speak any louder. It’s just as well - Dabi’s eyes barely open. It’s clear he’s fading fast.
“Stay,” the pirate murmurs, fingers flexing in Hawks’. “Just stay here, Keigo.”
With me, he doesn’t say. Doesn’t have to.
Hawks’ throat aches too much to reply, so he only nods - cheek rubbing up and down the pillow. Dabi sighs again and lets his eyes fall closed, and it’s a matter of minutes before his breathing evens out. Asleep this time, instead of unconscious.
In the amber light, Hawks’ eyes travel that battered face. Remembering every grin, every thoughtful frown. Remembering how he’d looked with red hair and fair skin all those years ago. Remembering the night he’d found him again - scarred and angry beyond all reason.
His gaze travels down to Dabi’s bare chest, taking in the bruises and the scars. The story of a hard life earned far too early. Too often he gets caught up in the physical presence - the sheer competence of the pirate, that he forgets he’s just a man. Not the force of nature he presents himself to be.
Gentle fingers trace down Dabi’s side, drawing a tiny shiver from the pirate. Hawks reaches for the thick blanket bunched at Dabi’s waist and tugs it up, draping it over the pirate’s shoulder.
A knock on the door draws Hawks’ attention away, reminding him that the doctor had gone for tea. He digs a palm heel into his eyes and sits upright, thinking to take the tea for himself while Dabi sleeps. It wasn’t like he was going to be resting himself anytime soon.
Instead, he finds Yu and Rumi at the door, with unusually serious expressions on their faces. Hawks’ heart jolts in fear, wondering if his actions had been discovered by the Commission - if they’d found out about him saving and harboring a known pirate.
“Lieutenant Hawks,” Rumi whispers with uncommon formality, glancing over his shoulder into the room. “Walk with us for a moment?”
He casts a glance behind him as well, but Dabi hasn’t stirred. He closes the door and follows the two women down the hall.
In their sharp blue military jackets, with their booted heels thudding against the old wooden floors, Hawks has a brief moment of doubt. Their shoulders are squared for a fight and tension is thick in the air as they lead him into another room. He hangs back by the door, watching white and blonde horsetails sway against rigid backs.
It’s not enough to make him wish for his sabers, but it’s enough that he wishes he weren’t down to his socks, breeches, and undershirt.
They wouldn’t, he reminds himself sternly. They’re my friends. And more than that, they’re too honorable to stab me in the back. He smiles ruefully. Both women were far too direct. If this was their way of turning him in, he’d know about it already.
Reassured, he steps into the room as they turn to face him, and asks crisply, “What is there to report?”
The two women exchange a grave glance.
“We stopped by the barracks, as you asked,” Yu begins. “Just to make sure no one was asking about you. Give you an alibi, you know?” Hawks nods, dread growing in his guts. Rumi picks up the thread.
“Overheard a conversation between the head of naval intelligence and the governor,” she states bluntly, “Talking about the kidnapping. Turns out it wasn’t a rival pirate gang.”
Hawks’ heart goes cold. “Oh?”
“Bunch of hired thugs,” Rumi continues. “Trying to get rid of the stain on the Admiral’s legacy.”
Yu is more tactful, but no less brutal, “They were talking about you, Hawks. Apparently, they’ve had you followed each time you’re in port, hoping to catch Dabi with you.”
“They almost had him at your last rendezvous,” Rumi adds. “If you idiots hadn’t had that fight that had you pouting for weeks, they probably would have gotten him then.”
“So,” Hawks says, and his voice sounds stiff. Distant. “This was all a ruse? To… what? Get rid of Dabi? Why not just put him on trial? Why… ”
Why hurt him like that? He wants to ask. Can’t ask.
Yu and Rumi exchange a look. But Hawks has already figured it out. The pieces all fit so nicely, after all.
“They didn’t want to lose me,” he says simply. “My services.” Both women nod, their faces tight.
“I see,” Hawks says. His heart rate evens out, and his voice comes out steadier, for all that the crown of his head is beginning to feel that same dark rage. The feeling of wasps stinging over and over, until his whole body burns.
“The Commission is only one part of the navy,” Yu reminds him, though even she doesn’t sound so sure anymore. “There are good people there - like Lord Yagi. Captain Aizawa. One branch’s decision shouldn’t…” She trails off when Hawks raises his hand.
“I understand,” he acknowledges. And he does. He knows that she’s right. Just as surely as he knows the Commission was wrong. If they’d wanted to retain Hawks’ services, they would have gone about this the legal way. Would have taken Dabi in and put him on trial. As much as he hates admitting it, Dabi is still a pirate.
They probably hoped this would stoke my anger against pirates in general as well, Hawks realizes, lips pressed thin. After all, he’d always been more merciful than the Commission really approved. Having his lover murdered violently by pirates would be just the tragedy he would need to turn mercy into brutality.
Or so the Commission believed.
If they want no quarter shown, Hawks thinks, blood frigid in his veins. I will give them no quarter.
“You’ve got something going on in that bird brain of yours,” Rumi goads, eyeing him with that intelligent gaze he’d come to rely on in the navy. One day, she’d make an excellent captain, or he’d eat his own sabers.
“The Commission doesn’t want to lose me,” Hawks acknowledges with a dip of his head. “They won’t. If I go against them as a Lieutenant, I’ll just be court-martialed. Maybe keelhauled for my efforts.” Both women nod again. Waiting.
“If I work from the inside, though...” Hawks says slowly, testing the waters. Helping him save a person in clear distress was one thing. But for them to actively plan with him to undermine the Commission? That was asking leagues more from them.
Their wide, feral grins are more than enough answer for him.
“Whatever you need,” Yu says, red eyes flashing.
“Whenever you need it,” Rumi adds, sticking out her hand in a formal show of commitment. Yu follows suit. Hawks shakes each of their hands firmly.
“So,” Rumi asks, rubbing her chin. “What rank is good enough to topple a generations-old government oligarchy?”
“Captain?” Yu suggests. Hawks eyes her appreciatively.
“Captain,” he agrees.
Rumi snorts, “Knowing you, you’ll be the youngest person to make captain in the whole fleet.” Hawks starts to grin until she continues, “But you know that the Commission will never promote you if you keep seeing him, right?”
Hawks flinches like she’d struck him a physical blow. Fury giving way to an ache so fierce, he nearly staggers.
Oh, he thinks, closing his eyes with a grimace. Oh, no.
“I…” he tries, his voice cracking uncharacteristically. He swallows, then swallows again.
“I know.” But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to know.
He drags a shaky hand through his hair, tugging a little on the ends as he tries to pull himself together.
To take down the Commission, he’d need to leave Dabi behind. Dabi, whose only request was that he stay.
The tears don’t even register until Yu reaches out to grip his shoulder and one drop plops down onto her sleeve, staining the dark blue almost black.
“Buck up, Hawks,” Rumi says, voice almost gentle. “Think of it as… keeping him safe.”
“Yeah,” Yu agrees enthusiastically. “This actually might work out to your advantage! No one else would spare Dabi, but you would. You could even try to get assigned his bounty!”
Hawks lets out a weak laugh. “Fight him? To keep him safe?”
“It’d prove your loyalty,” Rumi muses. “And you know Admiral Todoroki and his fleet would show him no mercy.”
They sober quickly at the reminder. They all knew who Dabi had once been, though none of them quite knew the full story of how the highest-ranking Admiral in the navy had lost his eldest son to piracy. Hawks suspected he knew the most, of the three of them.
And even I don’t know the full story behind his scars, he acknowledges. Touya never quite trusted me enough for that… He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, lungs heavy in his chest.
It’s quiet in the spare room as they each contemplate the pact they’ve just made. But it’s Yu who asks the question Hawks most wanted to avoid.
“Are you going to tell him?”
He presses his lips together, not quite able to meet her concerned red eyes. His chest aches with the weight of this new decision, pressing on him like the ocean. His throat is too constricted for him to say anything, but his silence seems to speak loud enough.
Neither of them stops him when he turns and walks out the door.
----
It’s raining outside, and the pattering of drops against the window panes is what finally pulls Dabi from his sleep. It’s almost a peaceful waking until all the fucking pain comes roaring back.
He groans and buries his uninjured cheek further into the soft pillow under his head, waiting for the throbbing of his everything - but particularly his leg and spine - to go away.
“You’re awake, I see,” a creaky old voice says from somewhere across the room. Dabi cracks an eye that’s crusty with sleep to see the doctor rolling fresh bandages by the fireplace. He also sees that the pillow in front of him is empty, Hawks nowhere in sight.
“Baa-chan,” Dabi says hoarsely, trying to crane his stiff neck around to confirm that Hawks is really absent. “Where - ?”
“Keigo,” she sighs testily, tying off a length of white linen. “Insisted on going to get more tea. As if I couldn’t go to the market in a little rain.”
The relief that sweeps through Dabi is almost embarrassing, and he lets his pounding head slump back into the pillow. A scrape of the chair by the fire indicates movement, but he’s just too tired to try and put up a strong front.
“What’s the verdict?” He croaks out as the doctor kneels down in front of him. She cups his cheek gently and holds up a mug for him to drink from. Some of it spills, but getting wet had never been much of an issue given his occupation.
“You’ll live,” she answers when he’d had his fill. “And live to fight another day, I might add.” Dabi snorts, and regrets the motion immediately.
“Oh, dear,” the doctor murmurs, pressing her palm to his forehead before gently petting his hair. “You get some more rest, and by the time you wake up, Keigo should be back. How does that sound?”
Dabi fights the urge to snort again, but can’t deny that it’s what he wants. Just to wake up in Hawks’ arms. Safe. Warm. Content.
I’ve gotten so fucking soft, the pirate thinks without any real heat. Already, his eyelids are drooping again, and he wonders if she’d laced his water with poppy milk before he decides he doesn’t care. Dabi curls his sore arms closer to his chest, absently noting the blue bandana wrapped around his hand. The reef knot holding it in place is perfect - just like the hands that’d tied it.
When he finally nods off, it’s to thoughts of golden eyes and warm laughter, and a tight hold that felt like belonging.
----
When he wakes again, the stormy grey skies have gone dark, and so has the doctor’s expression. Dabi immediately assumes the worst - that Hawks has been caught. That he’s been captured and executed for conspiring with pirates. With him.
Dabi struggles to sit up, breathing ragged, ignoring the wrinkled hand on his shoulder trying to hold him back. He gets one elbow under him, ribs protesting and back spasming, but the pain means nothing to him - nothing compared to losing -
“He’s not dead,” the doctor says, and the pirate ceases his struggles, heart beating like a galley drum. “But his ship set sail an hour ago.”
Ocean blue eyes widen, searching her face for deception - for any hint of uncertainty. But she looks as grave as if she’s delivering a death sentence.
Maybe she is.
“He’s gone?” He whispers in a cracked, terrible voice. The doctor nods solemnly, and something in that nod informs him that this wasn’t some last-minute navy horse shit where Hawks had no choice in the matter. Their old doctor wouldn’t be mad if that were the case.
He left, Dabi thinks, throat constricting. He left just like they did. Why? Because I was weak? Because I got caught? Did he finally realize the risk or -?
The questions tumble over each other, one right after the other, like waves pounding a beach. Churning, grinding, muddying his thoughts. Frantically searching for a reason that doesn’t hurt.
“Touya,” the doctor murmurs, but the pirate clenches his eyes tightly against whatever she means to say. He can’t hear her sympathy now. Not now.
Eventually, she leaves him be. Eventually his arm trembles so hard he has to lie down. Like the beaten dog he is. Like the worthless mistake he is.
And as the thunder grumbles in the dark night and the rain continues to rattle against the window, Dabi curls in on himself, alone, and weeps.