Hawks probably should have known to take any of Echo 's dining recommendations with a grain of salt.

He was aware that the tucked away hole-in-the-wall she swears makes the best karaage she 's ever tasted in her life was in Mos Eisley, but it hadn 't occurred to him that this might be a problem until he 'd arrived a few minutes earlier than his planned meeting time with Dabi.

He opens the front door to the tiny restaurant and is immediately met with a blast of warm, spicy air and the deathly silent stares of the entire restaurant. As he meets the gazes of what can only be at least half a dozen gang members enjoying their beer and fried chicken, he acknowledges that he probably should have had the foresight to change out of his hero costume before trying to get a casual, low-key dinner in downtown Tokyo. He 's not sure if the notorious Tokyo Manji ' gang members are better or worse than a room full of rabid fans. Maybe worse, considering they 're all probably armed. What is he saying, they 're

definitely

armed. He 's fairly certain that 's Mitsuya Takashi there in the corner ' he knows from plenty of police briefings that the Division Captain is very high up in Toman and not someone to mess with.

He honestly doesn 't know what else to do but wave sheepishly and sprawl into a chair as far away from their tables as possible. If he tried to leave now it would have looked suspicious and made the situation worse, and he has no desire to make an enemy out of Toman. Half the reason his investigations in the Tokyo area go so smoothly is because they feed him information through Echo.

Hawks deeply regrets just flying right over here the moment he 'd finished up his backlog of paperwork. He definitely should have changed. And dismantled his wings. And maybe grabbed a shower. He 'd just been so excited at the idea of finally seeing Dabi again, he hadn 't really been thinking. That 's ' rather alarming. Beneath his cavalier persona, Hawks prides himself on being a very analytical and preternaturally observant guy. It 's definitely not good form, to be so thoughtless.

He worries the situation is about to take a turn for the worse when even the noises from the kitchen quiet down, the entire restaurant dead silent as he adamantly pretends to be busy on his phone, ignoring the many eyes he can feel staring him down.

Then the front door slams open, shattering the tension on impact.

Hawks startles, staring wide-eyed at the man dusting off stray droplets off his scarf from the drizzle outside. He cuts a stylishly elegant figure with his long, fitted coat and all black outfit, offset by his stark white hair. Well. Now Hawks regrets his outfit even more; he feels severely underdressed in his hero costume.

Everyone in the room turns to look at the man, but he only has eyes for Hawks.

Satoru smiles at him, a soft and crooked little thing that 's a far cry from that usual cocksure grin of his. His breath catches oddly at the sight of it.

Before he can walk any closer, the crowd from Toman accosts him exuberantly; Satoru seems to know most of them, giving out a few genial waves to the group and walking over to greet Mitsuya personally ' the man who designed Satoru 's coat, Hawks realizes with disbelief as he shamelessly listens in on their conversation. Satoru keeps it short, chiming out his greetings before adding he 'll catch up with them all later, and perhaps even regale them with tales of his international exploits, as some of the younger and more excitable members loudly beg him for.

Afterwards he heads back Hawks 's way, the atmosphere in the restaurant decidedly more palatable than it had been minutes earlier. None of the Toman members turn his way again, apparently having dismissed him as a non-threat now that it 's obvious Dabi is here with him. Crisis averted then, and in the nick of time too.

'You look nice, ' Hawks says immediately, as the other man sits across from him.

Dabi grins salaciously. 'You should tell Micchan that ' he 's the one who made this whole outfit after all. '

Micchan, huh?

He hides the little spark of jealousy at the nickname beneath an easy smile. 'But you 're the one who looks good enough to eat in it, ' he replies, not even bothering with the pretense of pretending the other man 's existence in near proximity to him isn 't an alluring thought in and of itself.

Satoru 's grin just grows wider. 'Should we skip dinner entirely and move onto dessert, then? '

'That

is

your favorite meal of the day, isn 't it? ' Hawks laughs. 'But I said I 'd treat you and I meant it, so let 's at least order something quick. '

'Fine, fine, ' Satoru agrees gustily, glancing around the little shop. 'Y 'know when you said you had somewhere in mind, I hadn 't expected you to pick this place. '

'Neither did I, ' Hawks returns, sardonically. Satoru blinks at him. 'I 've been on the hunt for the best fried chicken in Tokyo, and my friend Echo recommended this place to me as the best karaage in town. I should have expected its clientele to lean towards an, ah, alternative crowd, in light of that. '

Satoru snickers. 'This is

the

fried chicken joint of Toman, you realize. '

'Yeah I managed to figure that out myself, funnily enough, ' Hawks replies, drily.

'It 's worth the trouble, ' Satoru assures him. 'She 's right. This really is the best karaage in the city. I 'm not even that big of a fan of fried chicken, and I agree. '

'You 're the one who asked for chicken, ' Hawks says, pouting. 'I would 've taken you somewhere else if you hadn 't requested it. '

'Yeah, but you like it, right? ' Satoru counters, leaning over with his chin in hand. 'Maybe I just wanted to go somewhere I knew you 'd like. '

Hawks rolls his eyes, refusing to blush. 'I 'm happy to eat whatever. You 're the one who 's been out of the country, ya know. Don 't you want to eat all your favorite foods, now that you 're back? '

'I like karaage just fine! ' Satoru protests, just as a bustling old lady comes by with a pair of beers Hawks most definitely doesn 't remember ordering. She just grins at Satoru as she sets them down, and from the way Satoru smiles back, he assumes it must just be on the house. Well, he 's hardly going to say no to a free beer.

She takes their order without bothering to write it down. Actually it 's not even much of an order ' Satoru just says they both want the fried chicken, and she just nods along and then heads over to where the rowdy Toman tables are flagging her down for more drinks. It 's a far cry from the atmosphere Hawks had arrived in. It 's actually rather ' nice? It feels very homey.

'What 's your favorite food? ' He asks, lifting his glass to his lips.

He remembers the last time he and Endeavor had worked through lunch together, and the man 's odd question about Dabi 's order, and finds himself curious. Then again he 's always curious about Satoru. He wants to know everything ' everything the other man is willing to tell him, and then some.

'Me? ' Satoru looks surprised he 'd even ask. He hums thoughtfully.

'That 's not a dessert, ' Hawks adds, because he 's already well aware the man is a glutton for anything sweet.

'No fair~ ' Satoru whines, but nonetheless seems to take the question seriously. 'If I had to pick ' maybe Western food? '

'Western food? ' Hawks repeats, surprised.

'Yeah, y 'know. Like hamburgers and fries, or steak. '

'Really? ' Hawks isn 't entirely sure why he finds the answer so surprising. 'Somehow, that 's oddly unexpected ' '

'Is it? ' Satoru smiles wanly. With his sunglasses low on his nose, Hawks can see how it doesn 't quite meet his eyes. 'When I was younger, I was never allowed to eat anything but traditional food. I 'd only ever seen hamburgers in commercials on TV. Once I had the freedom to do what I wanted, I went a little crazy with it. ' He chuckles lightly. 'There was a period in my life where all I ate was fast food. My diet was pretty terrible. '

'It 's

still

terrible, ' Hawks teases, having seen the proof of it himself multiple times. The amount of sweets this man was capable of consuming was simply absurd. How was he still so fit with all the sugar he devoured on a regular basis? 'But you must have enjoyed Europe then, huh? '

'The pastries were perfection, ' Satoru sighs dreamily. 'Nothing can compare. And fresh swiss chocolate? I could live off that stuff forever. '

'I don 't doubt it, ' Hawks replies, easily imagining Satoru surrounded by more sweets and desserts than any single human should ever have and gobbling them all up in record time. 'Do you think you 'll ever go back? Just to visit? '

'I 'll be going back fairly frequently, while all this stuff is being worked out, ' Satoru reveals, making a vague gesture with his freehand to encompass his current situation. 'Stuff ' indeed.

'How 's all the clean up going? '

'It 's a mess, frankly, ' Satoru snorts, reaching for his beer. 'The leader and most of the upper echelons of the cult might be in custody, but the backers have scattered to the wind. The WHA will have a global witch hunt on their hands if they try to ferret out all the financial backers. '

'Duke Serreno is still at large then, I take it? ' Hawks sighs.

'Diplomatic immunity and everything. ' Satoru nods, scowling. 'He 's gone skulking off into the oceans, and his home country 's not about to rat him out. We can only hope he makes a mistake somewhere and gets himself caught. '

'So you 're still going to pursue them? ' Hawks asks, then pauses, frowning. 'What exactly is your plan going forward? '

'With Humarise? ' Dabi asks. 'Dunno. Guess that 's up to the WHA now. '

Hawks shakes his head. 'No, I mean ' with everything. What are

you

going to do now? '

Normally he wouldn 't ask so blatantly, but something about the atmosphere feels relaxed and easy. Safe. This is Toman territory, he doesn 't have to worry about anyone listening in. And Dabi is no longer the most wanted villain in the country ' or at least, unofficially he isn 't. The Commission will have to fold on the matter eventually, with all the pushback they 're getting from the government.

Satoru doesn 't seem to know how to respond.

Luckily in the interim the server bustles back with their food, the smell of spicy fried chicken derailing the conversation. Hawks tears into it and immediately swears he 's in heaven. Dabi was right; this chicken is well worth braving Toman territory. He wonders what the odds of convincing Toman to look the other way to his regular presence here would be ' they 're not making a fuss about him now, but that 's only because Dabi is sitting across from him. Maybe he just has to come back with Dabi in tow? The thought is hardly unappealing.

Dabi takes a long swig of his beer. Hawks watches him lick the stray amber drops off his lips with so much fixation he almost misses it when the man says; 'I don 't want to be a villain anymore. '

When the words finally register, he almost drops his chicken.

'Don 't misunderstand, ' Dabi adds, reaching to their shared plate for a bite of his own. 'I don 't care about being a hero, either. If diplomatic immunity hadn 't been dangling on the end of that particular stick, I never would have bothered. '

Hawks blinks rapidly, not entirely sure how to process this.

'So you just ' don 't want the cops killing your vibe anymore? ' Hawks jokes, before realizing that 's really not much of a joke at all. That 's probably the extent of Dabi 's reasoning.

'Yeah, more or less, ' Dabi confirms, shrugging.

He 's truly not surprised.

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth that he instinctively tries to chase away with his beer.

At first, he doesn 't understand what upsets him so much about this revelation. This is good for everyone. Dabi is bowing out of villainy. Sure, he 's hardly leaping up to sign himself up as a hero instead (or at least more than one on paper), but neutrality is a damn sight better than outright criminal behavior. It probably won 't resolve the absolute kerosene fire of volatility he 's dumped on society with all his exploits, but it certainly turns a corner into a future that looks much less uncertain. Dabi settling into the life of a private citizen ' albeit one currently being hailed by the globe as both the 'world 's greatest hero ' and the 'world 's greatest villain ' ' is probably better for him too, as a person. Much less murder and mayhem, more time for reflection and ' and whatever it is people do when they 're not knee deep in crime scenes and dangerous situations. Gardening? Knitting? Hawks wouldn 't know the first thing about that kind of life, considering his own, but he imagines it must be better for one 's health. Just, y 'know, generally speaking.

Then he realizes what it really means.

If Dabi is neither a hero nor a villain ' then what reason does Hawks have to see him anymore?

This thing they have, whatever it is ' he doesn 't know what this would mean, for it. For

them.

He looks down, trying to school his expression into one of casualness. Despite all his years of training, he 's not entirely certain he succeeds. 'Oh. That 's ' that 's good, right? '

'Is it? ' Dabi returns. When Hawks glances back up, he 's watching him with an unerring gaze, shades pulled down just enough for Hawks to lose himself in that mesmerizing swirl of color. 'You don 't look like it 's a good thing. '

'It 's your life, ' Hawks dismisses. 'You should live it however you want to. Retiring from villainy is ' great. That 's a great thing. '

'Sure, ' Dabi agrees, still watching him closely.

Hawks doesn 't meet his eyes, stuffing his mouth with chicken even though he finds his appetite has completely left him.

'I 'm sure all your favorite detectives will miss you, but I 'm also sure they 'd prefer you staying out of trouble, ' he adds after he 's swallowed, wiping his mouth. 'And I understand, not wanting to be a hero. Or getting involved with law enforcement. Lots of rules. You 'd totally hate it. Even I find it to be a drag sometimes, y 'know? '

'Yeah, ' Dabi replies.

'I 'm, uh, happy for you. And I wish you all the best in your ' um, ' retirement, ' he blathers on, brain utterly out of sync with his mouth. He realizes what he just said and feels a dull flush crawl up his neck. That sounds ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous.

He 's

ridiculous. This is a good thing, for everyone. Why does he have to go and have a crisis about it?

He reaches for his beer, intending to down it all at once and hopefully knock himself right out of consciousness, but Dabi reaches out to stop him.

Satoru 's long fingers wrap around his hand; they feel so delicate, even though he 's seen firsthand the sort of indomitable power that lies beneath their touch.

'Hawks, ' he says, quietly. Hawks reluctantly meets his eyes. 'What 's wrong? '

'Nothing 's wrong, ' he insists, even as the words fall a bit flat.

Satoru frowns at him.

'No, really, nothing 's wrong, ' he maintains, glancing away. Those incandescent eyes seem to see right through him, into all the parts of himself he refuses to acknowledge. Hawks smiles wanly at him. 'I guess I just hadn 't expected to say goodbye so soon. '

Satoru frowns further. His fingers curl around Hawks 's hand. 'What? '

'Well, it 's just, if you 're not going to be working on this Humarise case ' or any cases, really ' then ' there 's no reason to keep this up, right? ' He bites his lip, looking down at the unfinished plate between them, thinking of the thousands of other meals that could have been between them, the thousands of other restaurants they could have been in; moments shared between the two of them that will never come to pass.

'Is that what you want? ' Satoru asks, his tone impossible to read, but Hawks doesn 't dare look up.

He swallows, thickly. 'Well, no '

'Then who said anything about goodbye? ' Satoru interrupts.

His head snaps up, eyes wide. But Dabi isn 't looking at him anymore. Actually, he 's reaching into that stylish coat of his and pulling out a wallet. He lets go of Hawks 's hand long enough to slap a truly boggling amount of bills on the table between them, before pulling off his shades to pierce Hawks with the full weight of those enchanting eyes of his.

He has just enough presence of mind to protest. 'I 'm supposed to be treating you '

'You can get the next one, ' Satoru cuts him off, in a tone that brooks no room for argument.

Hawks 's stomach flips over.

The next one.

'Besides, you promised me dessert too, didn 't you? ' Satoru reminds him, gaze low and sultry, those eyes of his looking like they could devour him whole.

Hawks licks his lips. 'I did say that, ' he agrees, voice gravely with anticipation.

Satoru reaches for him. It doesn 't even cross his mind not to place his hand back in his.

They 're gone in a flash, leaving nothing but rattling dishes in their wake.

//

Sex is not going to solve all the unsaid things between us,

he thinks.

But it sure as hell feels great.

He doesn 't think he 'll ever get tired of Hawks, which isn 't something he expected to say about anyone, in either lifetime. But being apart for this last month made him realize he 'd missed the blonde; he 'd be reminded of the hero in some fashion and be seized with the intense urge to seek out the man 's company, only to remember he was halfway across the world from him. Honestly if Hawks hadn 't called him and broken the silence first, he would have caved and done it himself.

He 'd told Izuku that adult relationships were 'complicated ', and his relationship with Hawks was no exception.

'Complicated ' might be selling it short, though.

Hawks is right. If he 's 'retired ' from villainy, and has no intention of being a (real) hero, then what reason do they have to seek each other out anymore? The mere suggestion of walking away frightens him in a way very few things ever have. His fondness for the other man terrifies him. He knows how this ends for him ' the only way it ever

can

end. He 's Gojo Satoru, the strongest, the Honored One, reigning high above where no one can ever hope to reach him, wrapped up in his own lonesome dynasty. In the realm of his own sublimity he is untouched by the blemishes of mortal existence, the weaknesses of his own damning human attachments. And yet here he is, letting that silly human heart of his dictate his thoughts and actions. He could have turned away from it all, earlier when he 'd already started to detach himself from his own existence, embraced the limitless void awaiting him at the bottom of his reversed-curse spiral, and severed all his ties. But he 'd let Yui draw him back, lying in a heap of blankets on the floor next to her warm and solid body as he dragged himself back down to earth piece by piece. She 'd reached out to him, and he 'd reached back.

He couldn 't resist her, and he couldn 't resist Hawks either.

He 's defined by the web of human touch he 's wound himself up in, the souls that touch his own. Maybe it 's time he 's accepted that ' that for every spark of connection he makes he 's dragged further and further away from his own divinity, and he can 't find it in himself to regret it.

He feels like it should hurt, to give in to his own weaknesses like this, knowing exactly how this ends, the Honored One plummeting out of the embrace of infinity. But instead he finds the fall from grace sinfully sweet. The soft dive of oblivion has never seemed so inviting.

There 's a flick against his forehead, startling him from his thoughts.

'If you don 't close those pretty eyes of yours, I 'm going to get soap in them, ' Hawks warns, and Gojo dutifully closes them so the other man can wash out the suds in his hair.

He 's surprised he zoned out enough to even forget where he was for the moment ' showering with someone is new and uncharted territory for him. He 's fucked plenty of people, but he doesn 't really let them linger around for the rest of it; the breakfasts the next morning, the fleeting touches in the shower, the pair of toothbrushes set on the double sink. Considering how far he was from a virgin when they 'd first met, Hawks has actually stolen quite a lot of his firsts.

He blinks the water from his eyes once Hawks is finished, gazing up at the man from his spot on the shower bench. The hero is watching him with a searing, inscrutable gaze. Gojo just blinks up at him. Finally Hawks moves, cradling his jaw with one hand and swiping his thumb just beneath his eye.

'These aren 't a quirk, ' he says softly, nearly inaudible under the shower spray.

That 's a hell of a damning ' and impossible ' accusation to make.

Gojo just smiles up at him. 'What gave it away? '

His hand falls away. Even under the warm heat of the water, Gojo still feels oddly cold without the touch. 'Nothing about your abilities follows the laws of quirk science. ' He pauses. 'I 'm not even sure if you have a quirk at all. '

Gojo raises a brow. 'Now

there 's

an interesting conspiracy theory. What makes you think that? '

Hawks shrugs, water dripping down his shoulders in a decidedly distracting manner. 'Like I said, your powers ' at least the ones I 've seen so far ' don 't follow the laws of quirk science. If you have a quirk, I haven 't seen it. '

Gojo considers him for a moment, standing under the water and steam, hair slicked back from his forehead but still dripping down his temple. He 's not pushing Gojo for an explanation, merely voicing his own observations. It feels as if it should be some kind of monumental moment ' the unveiling of his world-altering powers in all their logic-defying glory. Instead the space between them seems soft and ephemeral, still glazed in a slow and sleepy post-coital warmth.

If anyone was going to put it together, it would be Hawks, and a part of Gojo seems to have accepted that long ago.

Gojo stares up at him with an inscrutable expression as he holds out his hand, palm upturned into the spray. Hawks blinks at it, wiping water from his eyes. Then Gojo snaps his fingers, and a bright flame bursts into existence over his hand. It flickers valiantly, even through the torrent of water battering against it, forced to burn despite the unnaturalness of its birth through the sheer force of Gojo 's quirk.

He disperses it after a few seconds. 'Now you 've seen it. '

Hawks looks a bit stupified. 'A fire quirk?

Really? '

He sounds somewhat consternated.

'What? ' Gojo cracks a grin. 'Not cool enough for you? '

'It 's not that. ' Hawks shakes his head, still looking rather mystified. 'It 's just ' a little ubiquitous, y 'know? '

He can 't help but laugh. 'Yeah, I know. ' Considering two of his family members share his quirk, to say nothing of the population with some level of manipulation over the element, it

is

surprisingly mundane for someone with his reputation. 'And you 've seen it before, actually. At least once. '

'I have? ' Hawks returns, blinking.

He leans back against the wall, flicking a bit of soap off his hand. 'Yeah. Every time I use

Cremation.

It 's a technique that needs both my flames and my

Infinity. '

A furrow creases the hero 's brow. His gaze seems to turn inwards as he mulls that over. Then he glances back at Gojo. 'It 's both heat

and

pressure, ' he realizes. 'You 're not just using gravity to crunch something into nothingness ' you 're creating nuclear fusion to destroy it instantaneously. ' He finishes, voice going a bit high at the end with disbelief.

'Uh, yeah. Basically. ' When he puts it like that, it does sound rather outrageous, doesn 't it? Not any more or less outrageous than any of his Limitless abilities though, to be fair.

Hawks stares at him in complete incredulity. Then he sighs. 'That also makes absolutely no sense, you realize. Even if it was theoretically possible given the nature of someone 's quirk, there 's no way a human should have enough Plus Alpha energy to do something like that. '

He can 't help but grin widely at the hero 's words. 'What can I say? Apparently I 've been breaking the rules of science and man since I was born. '

Hawks chuckles.

'A bonafide lawbreaker since day one, huh? ' He remarks, ruefully, as he reaches over to flick the faucet off. Considering they 're talking about Gojo literally destroying all the known rules of the universe, he 's surprisingly unmoved by the revelation.

Huh. Maybe he 's just so used to Gojo 's particular brand of illogical chaos, it doesn 't even register anymore.

Gojo whines in protest as the steady flow of water tapers off, but Hawks just rolls his eyes.

'If we stay in here any longer, we 'll turn to prunes, ' he says, opening the shower door just as one of his feathers flies from the other room and tosses a towel at him. Two more follow it, and after Hawks has wrapped one around his waist he tosses one at him and slings the other over Gojo 's head.

Whatever protests he might have had over the sudden lack of hot water disappear as Hawks starts to gently dry off his hair. He doesn 't remember the last time someone did something like this for him. He 'd forgotten how nice it feels.

'Hmm, ' he hums as he turns his head further into Hawks 's hand, closing his eyes. Washing his hair for him and drying him off? He 's feeling quite pampered here. 'You 're spoiling me. '

'You 're

letting

me, ' Hawks counters, which is a good point.

'I should let you do it more often, ' he agrees drowsily, relaxing into the head massage.

'Happy to oblige. ' He doesn 't have to open his eyes to

hear

the smile in Hawks 's voice.

After a few more minutes of him listing further and further onto Hawks, the hero finally protests. 'Oi, don 't fall asleep here! ' He chides, pushing the towel off Gojo 's head and onto his shoulders as he lets go.

Gojo pouts ferociously at him. Nonetheless he doesn 't protest overly much as Hawks bullies him out of the shower and back into bed, collapsing next to him with a wide yawn.

One of his feathers flits out from wherever he 'd tossed them all to flick the lights off as the hero slides the covers over them. Predictably he 'd shucked them all off when he 'd made quick work of his clothes, but Gojo 's not entirely sure where they all went, only that they always manage to conveniently appear when they 're needed. Gojo barely registers it as Hawks pulls him closer to him, in search of warmth. He does spare a random, half-lucid thought to wonder on whether or not that 's a bird thing. Since he 's not actually covered in feathers like a real bird, does that mean he 's always cold? Or is Gojo just wildly overthinking all of this? He 's already half asleep when Hawks stirs next to him, voice dragging him back into wakefulness.

'Hey, ' the hero says suddenly. 'I just realized ' you didn 't actually tell me about your eyes. '

Gojo smiles sleepily. 'You didn 't actually

ask

anything, ' he points out. He 'd just made some impressive observations, and Gojo had just confirmed them.

'Fair enough, ' Hawks chuckles. 'Well, I 'm asking now. '

Gojo is just awake enough to huff out a laugh as he counters; 'Guess. '

'How is anyone supposed to guess with you? Your powers don 't make any sense, ' Hawks complains, although he doesn 't sound particularly disturbed by the notion, and nonetheless gives it a shot. 'Hmm ' your official 'hero profile ' says your eyes can see the quirks of others. But if it 's not actually a quirk itself ' does it see the flow of Plus Alpha energy? '

'See? You didn 't even need me ' you figured it out yourself. ' Gojo yawns, rolling over.

It 's still not quite the truth, but he doesn 't really feel like having to broach the subject of cursed energy. He 's barely still awake as it is.

'Why

Six Eyes,

though? ' Hawks asks, sounding a bit bewildered. 'It makes you sound like you have, well, six eyes or something. '

Frankly, he has no fucking clue why the Gojo clan named them that to begin with either, and he 's too tired to come up with a legitimate answer, so he just says, 'Like I said before ' it just sounded cool. '

It startles the laugh from the hero that he was aiming for. 'Oh, you were serious? Well, people have picked hero names for dumber reasons, I suppose. ' Hawks pauses. 'And what about Dabi? Did you pick it because it sounded cool too? '

'No, the task force tracking me at the time gave me that name. '

'Then why 's your technique called

Cremation? '

'That 's what they called it, ' he yawns again. 'I didn 't care enough to change it, honestly. '

'It 's your signature technique and you let someone

else

name it? Bad form, for a hero, ' Hawks teases.

'Good thing I 've never been much of one, then. '

There 's no immediate response from Hawks, which has Gojo prying open one tired eye to glance at him. The other man is watching him with an expression Gojo isn 't entirely sure he likes.

'I think you 're more of a hero than you give yourself credit for, ' the hero says, quietly.

He wrinkles his nose in response.

Hawks chuckles. 'Yeah, yeah, I know. Not your thing. ' He draws Gojo even closer, their breaths mingling together.

His honey gold eyes flicker in the moonlight, mouth pulled to the side as he gazes at him. Gojo is alert enough to register it as an expression of restlessness.

'What? ' He prods, tiredly.

'Ah ' nothing, I was just thinking ' villainy wasn 't really your thing either, was it? You never seemed particularly interested in it as anything more than a means to an end. '

It 's not exactly a shocking revelation. He 's never really made it much of a secret, how ambivalent he 'd been about being a villain, or what society thought of his actions in general. And especially not with Hawks, who 's always observed how anomalous his behavior was in comparison to other villains.

'That 's true enough, ' Gojo agrees. 'Doesn 't mean I 'm interested in being a hero, though. ' He adds, a vague tenor of warning in his words.

'Yeah ' I hear you. ' Hawks spreads out his fingers in a placating gesture. 'It just got me wondering ' what

do

you want to do, then? Now that you 're not really a villain or a hero. '

Teaching,

comes unbidden and unasked for, from some wretched corner of his mind. He shoves it aside viciously.

'Who knows, ' he affects a grandly ambiguous tone, lips quirking into a smile. 'Maybe I 'll be a rockstar. '

Hawks lets out a huff of amusement. 'Sure, yeah, ' he says drily, playing along. 'And you 'll serenade unsuspecting heroes to sleep in your spare time? '

'Is that a request? ' Gojo counters, brow raised.

Hawks leans closer, grinning. 'And if it was? '

Gojo amuses himself with the idea of it for a few seconds, before rolling his eyes. 'Denied, ' he drawls, making Hawks chuckle again. 'I 'm way too tired right now. Ask me next time. '

Hawks startles a bit, then smiles softly. 'Sure, ' he agrees, voice suffused with warmth. 'Next time, then. '

//

When he wakes, it 's to the drag of teeth against his neck, a lurid wet heat suckling a spectacular mark into the base of his shoulder.

He lets out an appreciative moan, tilting his neck to give the blonde better access. Hawks doesn 't waste any time sidling up behind him with a possessive palm spread against his hip, hot tongue tracing a line up to Gojo 's ear to a spot that never fails to elicit a full-body shudder out of him. He has no idea what time it is ' he 'd flung his phone away around the same time he 'd shucked off his pants last night and hasn 't seen either item since ' but from the slant of light across the closed curtains, he has to imagine its past dawn. Not that Gojo cares; unless Otheon is having some kind of crisis, he has no intention of leaving this bed at any point today. Especially not when his current company is so eager to please him.

But while Gojo 's schedule might be flexible enough for plenty of lazy morning sex, the same cannot be said of his companion.

A shrill alarm blares through the bedroom just as Hawks starts grinding against him in earnest. The hero pries his mouth off the striking line of marks he 's made along Gojo 's neck with something akin to a growl as a feather flings out from '

somewhere

and retrieves the source of the infernal noise. They part with a mutual reluctance as Hawks reaches out just as his feather drops his phone into the palm of his hand, swiping the alarm off as he tosses the thing behind his shoulder. He settles back behind Gojo, but this time neither his hands nor mouth wander into distracting territory, his nose buried into the crown of his head.

The moment seems too soft to be real, slow and sleepy and squeezing at his heart like a vice.

Their legs are tangled together, the heat of their bodies creating a warm and cozy bubble beneath the blankets that makes him want to drift off again. Hawks noses into his hair, reminding him of why he 'd woken up again. There 's a hardness against his back he wants to do something about, but before he can reach behind him Hawks is pulling away.

' 'Morning, ' Hawks says, voice rough with sleep.

Gojo grumbles in response. 'It 's too early, ' he complains.

'No kidding, ' Hawks commiserates, rolling onto his back with a sigh. He blinks up at the ceiling for a few seconds, then rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Gojo holds out a half-hearted hope Hawks will just ignore his alarm and doze off again, but as the hero sits up with an expansive yawn, he appears determined to rouse himself out of bed and go off to fight crime or whatever he 's doing today instead of lounging around like a wastrel. Unfortunately that steadfast commitment to his responsibilities is part of what Gojo finds so charming about him, so he can only smile unwillingly when Hawks leans over to place a chaste kiss against his shoulder, instead of protesting the early hour as he ought to.

Hawks pulls away with a brush of his lips, bed shifting as he slides off of it and heads into the bathroom.

He leaves his phone where he 'd tossed it onto the bedspread, which just seems like such bad form to Gojo ' what if he was the sort to snoop? Luckily for the hero he 's not, but it 's the principle of the thing. This doesn 't stop him from eyeing it with unabashed curiosity as it begins to buzz with an incoming call, nor does it stop him from turning it towards him to read the caller ID. Both his brows raise high as he sees who it is.

'I thought you said you weren 't friends with Endeavor, ' he comments idly, about ten minutes later when Hawks emerges from the shower, towel around his shoulders.

The blonde looks confused at first, until Gojo lazily holds out his phone for him, still sprawled in bed.

'He called about five minutes ago, ' he informs him, stretching his arms over his head but making no real effort to actually get up.

'Oh, ' Hawks frowns down at his phone, rubbing the back of his neck. He flicks the screen off, leaving it on the bed again as he towels off his hair.

Gojo feels like he 's getting a taste of his own medicine as Hawks wanders over to the bureau, naked as the day he was born and without a care in the world about it, calling over his shoulder; 'Can I borrow some clothes? '

'Sure, ' Gojo answers, doing his level best not to roll out of bed and drag the other man back into it. He 'd think the man was getting revenge for the time when he 'd been sick and Gojo had pulled a similar stunt on him, but the hero seems too distracted for that kind of subterfuge right now.

'I ' wouldn 't exactly call us friends, ' Hawks says in response to his earlier question, as he fishes around the top drawer. 'But I think we 're getting along pretty well, in spite of it all. '

'Yeah? ' He keeps his tone light and vaguely disinterested as he adds, 'Y 'know,

someone

told me he 's difficult to get along with. '

Hawks chuckles. 'Well, it 's true. But I 've made an effort to be friendly ' unlike

some

people. '

Gojo blinks. 'What? '

'What exactly did you do to the guy? ' Hawks rolls his eyes, stepping into a pair of sweats. Gojo prefers his loungewear to be as loose and comfy as possible; Hawks 's more muscular form fills them out perfectly, and Gojo happily enjoys the view.

Then he remembers the hero just asked him something, and remembers himself enough to counter; 'Huh? What do you mean? '

He hasn 't done anything to Endeavor. Well, not as

Dabi,

anyway.

'He 's interested in you, ' Hawks reveals, rummaging in his drawers again. 'More than other heroes, I mean. It seems ' kinda personal, to be honest. '

'Huh, ' Gojo says, blinking some more.

That 's unexpected. Could Endeavor have figured it out? He supposes if anyone was going to have a shot at unraveling the secret of Dabi 's identity (transmigration notwithstanding), it would be him.

He pauses with a sweater in hand. 'Actually, he 's been so fixated on you I made a joke that he had the hots for you, which didn 't go as planned, ' Hawks adds, sheepishly.

Gojo 's mouth drops open in delight.

'You did not, '

he marvels.

'He didn 't take it very well, ' Hawks admits with a grimace.

Gojo laughs himself into tears as he imagines Endeavor 's face when Hawks unintentionally asked him if he was attracted to his own son. He 's gasping by the time he 's done nearly laughing himself sick, face buried into the sheets.

'It 's not

that

funny, ' Hawks protests, pouting at him from across the room. 'I thought he might toss a fireball at me for the disrespect! '

'It 's hilarious, actually, and you have no idea how much his discomfort pleases me. '

Hawks narrows his gaze. 'So you

do

have a personal history with him? '

Instead of answering, Gojo tilts his head at the sweater Hawks has in his hands. 'There 's a pair of scissors in the drawer below if you want to cut the back. '

'You don 't mind? ' Hawks returns, surprised.

He shakes his head. 'Not at all. You can keep it. '

Hawks looks like he wants to comment on his blatant avoidance of his question, but fishes out the scissors without remark on it. Then he seems to take stock of the sweater he 'd fished out. It 's a nice garment, one Gojo likes and wears fairly frequently. But he likes the idea of Hawks wearing it even more. He 's perfectly happy to admit the idea of the hero wearing his clothes around for everyone to see satisfies a weirdly primal urge inside of him. Maybe he 'll go track down that stray paparazzi photo that had tipped Izuku off to their relationship, just to see it for himself.

'Are you sure? ' Hawks looks back up at him.

'Yeah, ' Gojo says, with a secretive smile. He 's definitely going to go online later and see if any Hawks fans snagged a few photos of the blonde wearing it out.

He waits until Hawks is carefully cutting out slots into the back before he considers the man 's question with any kind of sincerity. He has

plenty

of personal history with Endeavor, but the real question at hand is whether or not to reveal it.

From what Hawks has told him, Endeavor most likely knows

something.

Gojo wouldn 't be surprised if the man has put it all together ' these past few weeks, Gojo hasn 't exactly been hiding. His Limitless techniques may have given the man a bit of pause, but seeing his face would have made his identity readily apparent despite the mismatched 'quirk '. And while he 'd never outright used his cursed techniques while living in the man 's house, he 'd used it to augment his quirk plenty of times. It 's possible the man still remembers that, even if it was subtle.

Gojo 's not entirely sure how he plans to deal with his father. It depends on Endeavor, he supposes. Will the man go out of his way to oppose him, even though it 's only a matter of time until Dabi is exonerated? And what if the Commission legally recognizes his international hero license? Would he go after a fellow 'hero '? For his part, Gojo 's perfectly happy to let sleeping dogs lie and never see the man again in his life. He doesn 't hate him or anything, and he 's not mad. He just doesn 't

care

about him, in any capacity.

But he can 't say the same about Hawks, a person he cares for a great deal, who currently holds the dubious honor of being unknowingly dragged right into this unmitigated dumpster fire of a family soap opera. It doesn 't feel fair, to toss him in the middle of this drama without even giving him a heads up.

If Endeavor already knows, and he 's going public with (most of) his identity anyway ' does it even really matter if Hawks knows?

Theoretically no. If Endeavor knows he 's Touya, there 's no way of knowing whether or not he intends to keep that information secret. Gojo should assume there 's a possibility it will be common knowledge sooner or later.

Makoto 's words from earlier ring in his ears, about needing to get ahead of a narrative to control the outcome.

He sits up in bed with a resigned sigh.

If Hawks is going to hear about this from anyone, it 's going to be him.

And after everything he already told him last night, revealing the truth of his parentage doesn 't seem as daunting a task. Gojo has already confirmed that his powers are quite literally things beyond the reach of this world, so what 's one more secret in light of that?

'So do you like him? Endeavor, I mean, ' he asks casually, crossing his legs as he turns towards Hawks.

Hawks looks up from his careful cutting, frowning at the sudden segue back into their earlier conversation. He considers the question seriously.

'You know, they say you should never meet your childhood heroes, ' the hero begins idly, peering back down at his work. 'But I think that 's just advice for people who are prone to seeing the world through idyllic, rose-tinted glasses. Even as a kid I was never under the delusion that people could be perfect, even heroes. '

'Endeavor was your childhood hero? ' Gojo can 't really see it.

'Yeah, ' Hawks readily admits. 'And meeting him as an adult has been an interesting experience. Like I said, I was never under the impression he was the friendly and welcoming 'All Might-esque ' kind of hero. He 's not an easy person to get along with, but he 's a strong-willed and straightforward hero who takes his work very seriously, and I can respect his dedication to his job. '

Gojo makes a noncommittal noise. 'He does give off a rather reliable impression as a hero, doesn 't he? '

Hawks nods slowly. 'Yes. He 's diligent to the point of dogmatic, and so committed to his work I worry he can 't see past it, sometimes. But overall I would say I like him. Professionally it took a bit of effort, but we work well together now. And personally ' well he 's the farthest thing from friendly, but he makes an effort to be cordial, I think. '

'Huh, ' Gojo says, as he leans back on his hands.

It 's intriguing to see the man from someone else 's point of view. Someone who 's only known him as he is today ' a far cry from the raging and arrogant father Gojo remembers.

'So are you going to answer

my

question, or are you the only one who gets to ask the questions right now? ' Hawks asks drily, as he throws the sweater over his head. Where it looks loose and lanky on Gojo in an unkempt, artless way, on Hawks it highlights the man 's broad shoulders and sculpted physique, the wiry muscles in his forearms on full display when he rolls the too-long sleeves up to his elbows.

Gojo valiantly refrains from being too distracted by the sight to reply.

'It 's only fair, ' he says mildly, once he 's dragged himself back to the topic at hand. 'You got to ask all the questions last night, didn 't you? '

Hawks blinks. ' 'You have a point there. ' He agrees sheepishly.

Nonetheless, Gojo has already made up his mind on answering him.

'But yes, we do have a personal history, ' he reveals, slowly. His eyes flicker up to Hawks ' the man is merely watching him with a patient expression, no judgment in his gaze.

'He 's '

Gojo almost cannot fathom it, when Hawks 's phone starts going off again before he can get the words out. He stares at it dumbly as Hawks lurches into action, crossing the room to shut off the incessant blaring.

'Sorry, that 's my emergency line, ' he apologizes as he swipes through his screen.

Does this sort of shit

seriously

happen in real life?

When you have garbage karma like mine ' ' of course it does.

He palms his face. And

just

when he 'd finally come to the decision to tell him the truth ' he 's waylaid by the universe, or maybe just some two-bit criminals reenacting Godzilla downtown.

The hero 's expression turns serious as he frowns down at what he sees. 'Shit, they 're calling me in right now. '

He runs a weary hand through his hair, and when he turns back to Gojo he can see he 's in his professional hero mode, a steely resolve sharpening in his eyes. His feathers fly back to him within seconds, a flurry of movement wrought with a deadly precision. Even with his hair still damp from his shower and his casual attire, there 's something unmistakably heroic about him. The last few feathers hover in front of him, carrying his clothes from last night. As he takes them in his hands he tucks them under his arm and with that same determined gaze swoops down to capture Gojo 's mouth with his own. It 's a brief but searing hot kiss, and when Hawks pulls away the hero 's eyes are a molten gold that sends that same heat all the way down to his toes.

'Can I see you again? ' He asks, and Gojo is fairly certain he doesn 't have it in him to deny the man anything when he looks at him like that, but especially not this.

'Yeah, ' he says, a little breathlessly. 'Call me. '