Yui lies awake for an indeterminable amount of time, watching shadows make patterns on the ceiling above them. The heartbeat against her fingertips beats a constant tattoo against her skin, a reminder that she 's not alone, that the body next to her continues to live and breathe and exist in this world.

She 's not particularly thrilled to find out the truth behind Satoru 's impossible powers. She should have known an ability so outrageously overpowered as his would come with dangerous consequences. That Satoru launching a global counterattack against an entire army, all on his own, and

winning

it single-handedly would have profound repercussions on him. He played it off like it was nothing to write home about, as if he wasn 't precariously close to falling into a place she doesn 't think he could ever claw his way out of. What did he do, before she was there? Before the band, before Midoriya and Todoroki, before Hawks? When he was all alone, with nothing but this god-like power? For someone who 's left such a profound mark on her life, she really doesn 't know very much about him.

She falls asleep at some point, curled into his warmth as he lies beside her as still as the dead. Even in the endless silence of night she can barely make out the whisper of his breath as he sleeps; she has to place her palm over his chest to remind herself his heart is still beating.

Yui 's eyes flutter open to the creak of the front door.

She blinks blearily into the watery, early morning light, wondering what time it is. Satoru is still beneath her, unconscious.

And completely defenseless.

She 's up in a flash, darting towards the mouth of the stairs, guard up. Luckily it 's a very familiar ' if not categorically unimpressed ' visage that greets her at the bottom of the stairs.

'Is he here? ' Makoto asks, mouth pursed into an unhappy line.

Yui 's shoulders relax, as she nods and jerks her head behind her. 'He 's sleeping. '

She stomps up the stairs before Yui can protest, pushing past her. She reaches the open space at the end of the hall, where Satoru is still passed out. Makoto sucks in a long breath, as if gearing up to start shouting the house down, before she truly catches sight of him. She hesitates, then turns to Yui.

'Wait. Is he ' okay? '

Yui numbly shakes her head.

Makoto 's irritated expression crumples into one of worry. 'How long has he been here? And how long has he been like this? '

'He got back last night, ' Yui informs her. 'And ' he 's been like this since he fell asleep. He said it was normal, but he didn 't say how long he 'd be like this. '

'Of course the one time I

really

want to yell at him he 's knocked out ' ' Makoto crosses her arms, sighing. 'What 's he even doing here, anyway? I would 've thought he 'd still be stuck cleaning up his mess in Europe. '

Yui looks down, attempting in vain to smooth out the wrinkles out of her blazer. It probably wasn 't a good idea to fall asleep in it. 'I asked him to come back, ' she admits. '... I was worried. '

Makoto glances back at him. 'As mad as I am at him for keeping this from me ' I 'm pretty worried too. '

She sighs again, then heads down the stairs. She gestures for Yui to follow her. When they arrive back on the ground floor, she sees Makoto hadn 't come unprepared. She 's got what Yui assumes is her work bag slung over the kitchen island, and an army of shopping bags lined up on the counters. Yui is relieved to see paper towels sticking out of one of the bags; she 'd used up all the remaining ones in the house cleaning up her ramen from last night. She also never actually got to eat that ramen, so she 's painfully hungry.

Luckily Makoto unearths a bunch of store bought onigiri from one of her bags, holding one out to Yui.

'Breakfast? ' She asks, as she starts putting away all the groceries. Yui stuffs the riceball in her mouth in one go, nodding gratefully as she hops onto the island.

Yui watches in surprise as she leaves the kitchen, and comes back dragging a suitcase of all things.

She smiles wryly when she notices Yui 's startled expression. 'I had no idea how long I 'd need to camp out here until he came back, ' she explains. 'But come hell or high water I was going to wait here to give him a piece of my mind. '

Yui chews thoughtfully, as Makoto ducks through her haphazard packing and unearths a frying pan and spatula. Yui even sees a toaster oven in there. She certainly came prepared.

Yui watches her putter about the kitchen, using all the dials and knobs Yui was too scared to touch herself. Makoto is the type to show her worry by yelling liberally at the people she cares for, and sometimes throwing various (harmless) objects at them. But she 's also the type to aggressively smother them with food and drinks and multiple scarves even when it 's not actually all that cold out, as Yui knows from experience. She must have been very shocked to find out their bandmate whom she 'd always thought was just a jobless wastrel was actually the most wanted villain in the country. But she still worried about him enough to bring all this to his house and wait here for a chance to see him in person. To yell at him, mostly, but also to make sure he was really okay.

'How long have you known? ' Makoto asks, suddenly. 'About Satoru. '

' ' A couple months, ' Yui reveals.

'He told you? '

She shakes her head, even though Makoto can 't see it. ' 'No. I ' I figured it out. And he didn 't deny it. '

The black-haired woman makes an irritated noise, aggressively spraying down her frying pan with more cooking oil than Yui thinks is strictly necessary. Then she stalks over to the counter and slams the rice cooker shut with enough force to make Yui wince. Yep. She 's mad.

'I think he kept it from you because he was scared, ' Yui says, in a small voice, as Makoto stomps back to the stove. 'I think he wanted to tell you, but was worried you wouldn't want to be his friend anymore. '

Makoto pauses over the pan with an egg in hand, but doesn 't turn around.

'I never made a big deal out of Kenji, did I? ' She mutters, as she cracks the egg.

'Kenji was technically never convicted for anything more than a robbery or two, ' Yui points out, dryly. Technically she 's been charged with manslaughter at some point, but hadn 't been convicted. She 'd just had to go through the whole judicial circus, and that mark on her record had led her down the path to an, ah, alternative lifestyle. The rest of it ' robbery and a couple assault charges ' looked bad but weren 't all that awful in the grand scheme of things. She 'd probably get off with hefty fines and community service if she ever got caught for them.

Satoru, on the other hand, was likely going to be considered the most dangerous man in the world by the time all this blows over. And sure, maybe he 'll get diplomatic immunity and under international law might end up untouchable from a legal standpoint, but no one was going to forget what he was capable of anytime soon.

Makoto clicks her tongue. 'It 's the principle of the thing! Sure, yeah, I guess Satoru 's 'err '

rap sheet

is a little more colorful than hers, but I wouldn 't judge him for that! '

Yui stares at her flatly, and even though her back is turned she must sense how unimpressed Yui is by that response.

'Okay ' I wouldn 't judge him

much, '

she amends, hastily. 'But I mean, come on! Dabi has

so much potential.

As a brand! Think of all the things he could do with that platform if he just gave it a little bit of thought! '

'I think he 's given it plenty of thought already, which is why he refuses to do anything with it, ' Yui counters. Makoto turns around, frowning. Yui shrugs. 'He 's never been interested in any of that. He 's always just wanted to lay low and do his own thing. '

Makoto scoffs. 'A little late for that, huh? '

She 's got a point there.

'He needs to get his ass in gear and do some serious publicity for this, ' Makoto mutters, mostly to herself. 'He has to get ahead of this thing, or the press will eat him alive. That mysterious bad boy appeal is only going to take him so far. We might even have to get the band involved ' although that could work in our favor. There 's no way in hell he 'd agree to any talk shows though, but I know a few magazine editors that would jump at the chance to get him on the docket for next quarter ' '

Yui winces at the idea of it all. It sounds too much like what she remembers of Hawks 's schedule ' the life of a highly public celebrity-hero. Exactly everything Satoru hates in life.

'Isn 't it too soon for this? ' She asks, weakly.

Makoto flicks the stove off, shuttling the eggs onto a plate with fresh toast. 'Not at all. It 'll take a month or two to get all this rolling, which is just enough time to let everything cool down from his latest escapade. '

She pauses, spatula in hand. 'Assuming he 's staying in Japan? '

Yui nods. 'I think he wants to ' if it 's at all possible. '

A firm, determined expression crosses her face. She nods back, decisively. 'Then we 'll need a game plan. It 'll be tough, but this situation is salvageable. In fact, I think I can really turn this around and make him into a superstar. '

Yui withholds a hysterical laugh. From supervillain to superstar ' well, if anyone was capable of that kind of image change, it was Makoto.

//

Makoto:

so I 'm sure you 've seen the news on Satoru, so I won 't bore you with the details, but yes he 's alive and (mostly) fine

Makoto:

on a related note the band is getting back together

Ken-chan:

' how tf are these two sentences related???

Ken-chan:

Satoru is literally causing chaos across the world and somehow this is a band problem??

Makoto:

obviously yes because that dumpster fire happens to be our lead singer

Ken-chan:

are you fucking serious right now

Ken-chan:

no don 't answer that

Ken-chan:

I don 't even care as long as he uses that fancy teleportation on me. If I have to get on another bullet train again in my lifetime it 'll be too damn soon

//

'... How long have you been here? ' Gojo almost doesn 't want to know the answer. Judging from the stacks of paperwork, the laptop and charger, the miscellaneous food and drink,

and the entire fucking new dining table and chairs,

she 's probably been camping out here for a while.

'I can 't believe you left the country for

weeks

and didn 't even lock your fucking front door, ' Makoto spits out, looking affronted by his very existence.

He supposes that 's answer enough.

He 'd trudged down the stairs feeling like a brand new human ' one who was in desperate need of a shower, and coffee, but human nonetheless. Looking back on himself from before he 'd fallen asleep is like looking through a warped mirror; he knows intrinsically that he lived through that, but it feels like he 'd been on autopilot and an entirely different Gojo Satoru had been at the wheel. That 's fairly par for the course when it comes to overusing his reversed-curse technique, though. And like he told Yui, he was good as new after a bit of sleep. 'Or maybe a lot of sleep, judging from Makoto 's setup.

He sighs. '... I 'm sure you 've seen the news. '

'Obviously. ' She scowls, crossing her arms. 'I can 't believe you let me find out about your entire alter ego through

Euro Metrozone

news! Of all outlets! They 're such trash I 'm disgusted I even have their website in my browser history! '

'I 'm ' I 'm sorry? ' He blinks rapidly.

She throws a shoe at him. It smacks against his Infinity and flops haplessly to the ground. Her brow twitches ominously. He winces at the foreboding look. Maybe he should have just let her hit him with the shoe '

'Good! You should be! ' She shouts, incensed. 'Your PR is

awful!

And the worst part is ' it could be so fucking amazing if you just spent even a single ounce of effort at it! Un-

fucking-

believable. You have such an incredible brand and you do literally

nothing

with it. '

He blinks some more, confounded by this turn in conversation.

'It 's fine though, really. Just fine, ' she sniffs, turning back to her computer. 'This just means I get to handcraft your public image myself, without having to bother with anyone else 's half-assed work. You 'll be my toughest client yet, but if I could pull Chris 's stupid womanizing head out of his ass and turn him into a decent enough hero I think I can handle you. '

'Um, ' Gojo says, slowly, feeling like he needs another forty-eight hours of sleep to figure out what the hell is going on right now. 'My what now? '

'Your image, Satoru! ' Makoto huffs. 'It 's not ' it 's not

bad.

It 's just got a very complicated narrative right now. We need to streamline it, parse it down to something everyone can get behind, and sell

you

and not your alter ego. You 're a very marketable person, I hate to say. I mean, just look at your twitter, and you don 't even

try

with that thing, you just post garbage memes all the time! '

Gojo has no idea what to say to that. He sees an unfamiliar carafe filled with coffee that he absolutely does not remember ever buying and makes an immediate beeline for it. He 's not nearly caffeinated enough for this.

He 'd expected Makoto to be ' well, upset, he supposes. Upset about being

lied to,

that is, not upset about how terribly he manages his own public image and the fact he 's a walking PR disaster.

'Where 's Yui? ' He asks, as he fishes around for a coffee cup ' that he also doesn 't remember buying. How long have his bandmates been using his house when he 's not around? Holy hell, this kitchen actually looks like it 's owned by a real, living, reasonable adult who actually knows how to use it.

'School, of course. ' Makoto snorts, between furious typing. 'It 's Monday. '

'Is it? ' He considers this idly as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

That 's longer than he 'd expected, actually. He hopes he didn 't worry her too terribly. Sleeping for a few days after overexerting his cursed-technique like that is ' honestly not too bad, considering his track record.

'Yeah, ' she agrees, distracted, keyboard clicking loudly as he dumps half a carton of creamer into his cup. 'When do you need to go back to Otheon? I imagine they 're not done with you by a long shot. '

'No idea. My phone 's dead. ' He shrugs glibly.

'Oh

my god

turn it on, what is wrong with you? ' She gasps, looking offended at the very thought of ever going offline for that long a time. 'Okay, if I 'm doing your PR, you are

no longer allowed

to just disappear off the face of the earth like that. No dead phones. I want access to you at all times. '

'I don 't remember agreeing to be your client, ' he comments drily, leaning against the counter and savoring his sip of extra-sweetened caffeine.

'That 's too bad, ' Makoto retorts, unmoved. 'Now that you 're basically going public,

your

image is the band 's image. And I 've spent way too much time and effort on

No Scrubs

to let it all go to waste because you 've got a terrible reputation. '

He winces at the reminder. He 's no longer just 'Dabi ', the mysterious and most powerful villain in the country. It 's only a matter of time until Dabi and Ru-kun are known as the same person.

'And we need to get ahead of that narrative before it explodes in our faces, ' Makoto continues matter-of-factly, hitting her last key with a triumphant flourish. She looks up at him with a shark-like grin. 'Your days of lazing around as a happily unemployed wastrel are long over. '

Gojo smiles wryly.

She 's gonna be on his ass all the time, isn 't she? It 's much better than Makoto refusing outright to even talk to him, he supposes. At least she 's not making a big deal out of his whole 'most wanted supervillain in the country and maybe the world ' situation. Honestly he 's grateful for all of this, even if it does sound like a pain; this is her supporting him in the only way she knows how. And that must mean she wants to stick around, even knowing who he really is.

If all it takes to have her accept him is her wrangling his 'terrible public image ' into whatever she has in store for him, he 'll take that deal in a heartbeat. Even if it means putting up with the terrible abominations she calls 'hairstyles '.

'So we 're going to have to go public with

No Scrubs,

huh? I can 't say I hate the idea of that. ' Maybe one of these days he 'll get to live out his rockstar dreams and bask in the adoration of an entire stadium tour of fans.

Makoto just clicks her tongue at him. Her eyes are twinkling viciously. 'Oh, you say that now, darling. But just

wait

until you see what I 've cooked up for our publicity tour. '

//

@goingunder4 | Usagi-tan

Re: Dabi allegedly not being a citizen of Japan - I would marry him to keep that face in the country

@8oo8 | sewer clone

GET IN LINE BITCH

//

He spends far too long losing minutes in the lingering dredges of night, staring at the numbers ticking by on his phone screen. A little pathetic of the country 's fastest hero, to be dawdling around like this.

But he just ' doesn 't even know what to say.

He 's had his number this whole time. Satoru had given it to him before he left; didn 't even bother with the pretense of professionalism, didn 't say it was only for work-related emergencies, or updates on the U.A. students. It was the sort of profound act of trust that Hawks can never fully accept. Maybe it 's just a burner phone, maybe it 's not. Maybe he could give it to his team and have them trace every call the man makes. How is Hawks supposed to

accept

that? That kind of trust? They 're supposed to be enemies, but Dabi has never once treated him like an enemy. How is Hawks supposed to do anything but answer that faith in kind? Keep the man 's secrets, even as it puts him into increasingly untenable positions?

How is Hawks supposed to stay distant and unattached, when everything the other man does just has him becoming irrevocably more attached?

He

should

call him, honestly.

There 's a lot their in person interactions leave unsaid. Whether that 's by design or just a result of work and certain, ah,

distractions

getting in the way is up to debate. But there 's so much he thinks and feels, and then just never manages to put into words. He doubts getting on a phone with him would make it any easier to put voice to the feelings all jammed up in his chest. Even if he does find himself yearning to hear the other man 's voice.

Since he might be a wimp when it comes to his own feelings but he 's sure as hell not a

coward,

he opts to text him instead.

+81(092):

You awake?

He watches the bubble send off in his messenger app and wonders if he 's just being an idiot. Is it weird to get in contact with him after weeks of silence? Without any official reason to do so? Thinking back on it, every time they 've gotten in touch they 'd had a perfectly professional reason to do it. Exchanging information over coffees, crashing a wedding as part of an undercover mission, meeting up in the skies above Hosu as Nomu cause chaos below ' he supposes their last meeting was a bit out of the norm, but it was unusual circumstances. And even if he had been sick, he 'd still had information he 'd needed to relay to Satoru. Right now, he 's got ' nothing. Nothing but an overwhelming urge to hear from him in some capacity, to know he 's alright.

Minutes tick by, and he 's still here in the dark, squinting into the hazy blue light of his phone.

Hawks sighs, closing his eyes, tossing the phone away from him. This is ridiculous. What is he even doing up this late, contemplating things like this? He should be trying to get whatever rest he can. His schedule for tomorrow isn 't any less damning than it has been all week, and shows no signs of getting better. And the last thing he needs is to get sick again.

It 's just as he 's rolling over to settle more comfortably into his hotel pillows that his phone buzzes to life. His eyes shoot open as he scrambles to retrieve it from the haphazard mess he 's made of the blankets.

+81(3):

Despite my best efforts,

the response reads.

Hawks smiles unwillingly. He can hear the exact tone of voice Satoru would use ' something a little tired, but nonetheless amused.

+81(092):

What time is it over there?

+81(3):

too early to just pass the fuck out, unfortunately.

Hawks stares at the message bubbles crowding his screen, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant. He 's never considered himself a particularly indecisive person; usually when he decides on a course of action, he commits to it whole-heartedly. It 's how he 's lived his life since the moment he realized the only person who was ever going to save him was himself, and it 's the way he 's run his career as a hero ever since. But this is different. There 's something about Satoru, about that tentative, unspoken thing they have between them, that always has him second guessing himself.

Is this what they call a crush?

He wonders, giddy and somewhat hysterical. He 's never had one before ' the fastest hero, flying too fast through life to stop and take the time to experience things like crushes and first-loves.

He decides to just ask what he wants to ask. If Satoru thinks its crossing a line somewhere, or that it 's too personal for him to answer, then the worst thing he can do is just not reply.

+81(092):

How are you holding up?

For a wretched half second of silence, he wonders if Satoru really isn 't going to reply. Then his phone goes off in his hands.

He stares at in numbly for a few moments. Then he answers.

'Oppe og gr 'ter ikke, '

the man on the other line says.

It 's very late and Hawks was not expecting the villain to actually

call him,

so he believes his reaction to be perfectly justified when he laughs a bit madly and asks; '... Did you just cast a spell on me? '

It 's worth it for the responding chuckle he gets out of Satoru. 'Sounds like it, right? I 've been told my accent isn 't actually that bad though. ' He can hear rustling across the phone line, but can 't identify what it is. As if in protest to the lack of feedback, his wings ruffle across the sheets. 'I learned it while I 've been in Europe. It means 'I 'm upright and not crying ' in Norwegian, and I don 't even cry but it 's really a mood right now. '

Hawks smiles into the phone. 'You don 't cry, huh? '

'Not for lack of trying, ' Satoru replies, breezily. 'I really just can 't. It 's probably not doing me any favors, to be entirely honest. '

He shakes out his wings, curling up under the covers. 'I can 't either, ' he confesses. 'Can 't remember if I even cried as a kid. I don 't think so. '

He stares wide eyed into the quiet hotel room around him, shocked those words had even left his mouth. He 's never told another soul that, before. Never mentioned his own fucked up childhood, to anyone.

Satoru lets out a sardonic chuckle. 'Yikes. What a pair we make, huh? '

It drags forth a cynical smile to his lips. 'It really sounds bad when you say it aloud like that, ' he agrees.

'No kidding, ' Satoru returns, and there 's more shuffling from his side of the line. If Hawks closes his eyes and listens closely, ' he thinks he can make out the click of shoes against clean, polished tiles. Walking somewhere, then? 'Why are we talking about crying at ' what time is it over there right now? '

'One in the morning, ' Hawks dutifully replies.

'One in the morning, ' Satoru confirms. Then he balks. 'Why are you even up right now? Don 't tell me you 're still working. '

'Nothing like that, ' Hawks assures him, ambiguously, because apparently he can distantly allude to a childhood full of trauma but cannot admit to lying wide awake at night and missing the other man. 'Just ' couldn 't sleep. '

'Oh? Should I serenade you to sleep then? ' Satoru jokes.

Hawks flushes to the roots of his hair at the very thought. Can Satoru sing? It 's not out of the realm of possibility. He can probably play the guitar, and maybe even play it well. Hawks can 't fathom the thought right now.

'I think that might have the opposite effect, ' Hawks returns, cheekily, once he 's recovered himself.

'How rude! ' Satoru mimes offense. 'I 'll have you know plenty of people would pay good money to have me sing them to sleep. '

His brow twitches at the thought.

Oh,

he can imagine that. He 's sure dozens, if not hundreds of people would love the chance to have Satoru lull them to sleep. He 's seen the forums dedicated to Dabi ' people were already obsessed with him, and that was

before

he revealed his entire stupidly pretty face on international television. Even heroes were jumping on the bandwagon. Mt. Lady was just on record saying she thought he was cute!

'Why don 't we table that as a last resort then, ' he hedges, because he 's fairly certain he 'll spend the entire night as bright red as a tomato and squealing into his pillow like a teenage girl not getting any sleep at all if it actually happens, but he also refuses to pass up the chance because the mere thought of Satoru ever offering this to someone else has him seeing green. 'How about you just talk to me instead? '

'Sounds boring, ' Satoru complains. Then he perks up. 'Unless you want me to talk

dirty

to you. '

Hawks chokes on his own spit. He has to take a moment to process that, brain wandering to places it decidedly should not be going right now when he 's trying to

sleep.

Then he laughs and counters; 'I dunno ' you 've already given me

plenty

of great material to jerk off to, so unless you think you can top yourself ' '

It 's Satoru 's turn to splutter ineffectually.

'Well now I feel like I 've been challenged so I

have

to prove myself, ' he mutters. Then he sighs. 'But I also feel like that 's going to get me kicked out of the UN if I tried. '

Hawks grins against the phone. 'Yeah, public indecency tends to do that. '

He settles more comfortably into the mattress, wondering why he 'd ever even worried about calling Satoru. Perhaps the time and distance had made him forget just how easy it is to talk to the other man, how seamlessly they seem to fit together.

On the other end of the line, Satoru gives an unhappy scoff. 'I should just do it anyway. Getting kicked out of this joint would be a hell of a sight better than being stuck in another boring meeting with a bunch of talking suits. '

'That bad, huh? ' Hawks can relate, honestly.

'The

worst, '

Satoru insists. 'If I 'd known saving the world would mean getting thrown into conference rooms for hours on end I would have let the whole place burn. '

'Only a few days into the job and Pro Hero Six Eyes is ready to call it quits, huh? ' He can 't help but tease.

Satoru grunts. 'Of course you know about that. ' He mutters.

'Well, it

is

all over the news, ' Hawks points out, grinning. 'So much for that villainous reputation of yours. '

'Don 't tempt me, ' Satoru warns, before sighing. 'I seriously don 't know how you do this all the time. Don 't you ever just want to, I dunno, light the whole place on fire and laugh and then wander off to go get wasted somewhere? '

'Can 't say mass arson has ever appealed to me in such a manner, no, ' Hawks replies ' and really, he should

not

find this attitude of his cute, but somehow the idea of Satoru laughing maniacally in front of an exploding building with a cigarette in hand is somehow rather charmingly on brand for the (former?) villain ' 'But I 've certainly had the urge to toss a few people out of a window before. '

Satoru breaks out into giggles.

'I would have caught them with my feathers before they hit the ground, of course, ' he adds dutifully. 'I 'd just throw them out to spice up the meeting, y 'know? Keep people on their toes. '

'That definitely would have kept me from falling asleep in my chair, ' Satoru agrees, and Hawks can

hear

the smile in his voice, and it makes something heavy and warm settle in his chest.

'Is that what you 're doing right now? Falling asleep in your chair? ' He doesn 't think so, just from the distant audio feedback he can pick up.

'I escaped to wander the halls aimlessly, pretending I 'm lost looking for the bathroom so I can stay out of this meeting that 's ' ' he pauses, as if checking his watch, ' 'already thirty minutes over its end time. Who does that? Who schedules a meeting at four in the afternoon, knowing damn well it 's likely going to run way over? How could you be such a soulless bastard? '

'What a cad, ' Hawks concurs, in total solidarity. As someone who 's been stuck in meetings like that, he feels that pain on a personal level.

'Right? Apparently I 'm a hero now, so shouldn 't I save everyone from this hellish circumstance and go pull the fire alarm or something? '

'Nah, think of the poor building maintenance crew who 'd have to deal with that. ' Hawks rolls over onto his stomach, stretching out his wings. 'So, are you really a hero then? Or was that just a cover for this op? '

'It was a cover, but it 's a real document, ' Satoru explains.

'And why Six Eyes? '

'It sounds pretty cool, doesn 't it? ' When he closes his eyes, Hawks can easily imagine the devilishly handsome smirk draped across the man 's face as he says this.

'It does, ' Hawks replies, smiling sleepily. 'But I don 't really see how it has anything to do with your quirk. '

'It 's actually the only reason I can use my powers the way I do, believe it or not, ' Satoru reveals. Hawks blinks awake, startled to hear the other man admit to something like that.

'... Seriously? ' He has no idea how that would work, but it doesn 't sound like Satoru is lying.

The other man chuckles. 'Maybe I 'll explain it all to you, when I get back. '

Hawks drops back onto the pillow he 's sprawled over, suddenly reminded that they 're not using any kind of encrypted app to call each other right now. He 'd been so startled the man even responded at all, he hadn 't thought about the security of using their real numbers. Explaining in detail how his impossibly powerful, reality-defying quirk works through the phone lines is probably a pretty terrible idea. This whole conversation is probably not a good idea, but it 's late and he 's finally warm and comfortable and the person he 's longed to talk to for weeks called

him

first. He doesn 't have it in him to care right now.

'So I was right, ' he mumbles, resting the phone next to his face so he can comfortably bury his face in his pillow. 'Those eyes of yours weren 't normal after all. '

'I told you so, didn 't I? ' Satoru returns, chiding. 'Anyway, you sound like you 're finally getting tired. Go to bed, or I really will start serenading you to sleep. '

Hawks isn 't really thinking when he says; 'You can do that too ' when you get back. '

Satoru lets out a choked laugh, as if he hadn 't actually expected Hawks to agree. Well, too bad. Now he 's going to hold the other man to it.

'Yeah, okay, ' Satoru replies, voice quiet and warm. 'Sleep well, Kei-kun. '

Hawks wonders what it is about that name on Satoru 's lips that smooths out the sting of wretched memories he usually associates with it. Then again, no one 's ever called him something as affectionate and personal as

Kei-kun.

Not even his own parents. It 's different than Keigo, which only ever summons up traumatically parental associations for him. It 's something else ' something so much more.

'Thanks, Satoru. ' And he means that, more than the other man will probably ever know.