Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Comet. n. A celestial object consisting of a nucleus of ice and dust and, when near the sun, a “tail” of gas and dust particles pointing away from the sun. 

Touya Todoroki is a comet. He is ice, burning as he falls from the sun, the tails of his coat fluttering behind him. He’s picked his hero name well, he thinks. Several people have asked why he chose the hero name he did, but he generally settles for flicking the tails of his coat and saying that he likes space; no need to tell them that his body was built for ice. It’s no one’s business but his own that he was never built to burn. 

He thinks about it often, though, while he patrols, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning for danger. 

His clothes are designed with his Quirk in mind; his base layer is a stroke of genius from a Shiketsu support class engineer, a body suit that directs his flames away from his skin and simultaneously cools him down as much as possible. There are limits, of course, but it stops him from burning out as quickly as he used to; it covers him from neck to wrists to ankles. Over that, he wears a fire-proof gray jacket with several coat tails that flutter in the wind like comet tails; in each pocket of his coat, he stores various supplies in temperature-safe containers–his hero license, first aid kits, money, so on. Cooling gauntlets sit at his wrists, his upper arms. He wears boots up to his knees, buckles layering all the way up, and a thick metal belt to match his bracers. 

Frankly, he really needs to replace one of his base layers soon; both his current and his back ups are getting pretty worn down, but all of his money is going to Shouto’s first terms of school next year. As soon as he turned eighteen, he got everyone out, exactly like he’d always promised he would. It was… hard. Fuyumi is old enough to teach now, and the extra income is helping immensely. Natsuo is old enough to have a job, but Touya is more focused on getting him through college instead–Natsuo can make something of himself if he applies himself, and Touya will be damned if he isn't going to make him do it. 

Enji insists on making it harder for him by interfering with every agency that he finally gets accepted to. Gunhead’s agency is the fourth agency he’s been accepted to in three years, and even if it’s not his usual type of work, it is work, and he’ll take it. Gunhead focuses more on public appearances than Touya generally prefers, and takes part in a lot more inter-agency teamups. Touya’s… actually not sure what Gunhead sees in him, but he doesn’t have very many sidekicks on his staff that have long-range Quirks, so he assumes it’s something to do with that. It’s not like he interviews well; he’s taciturn and sullen at the best of times.

Touya walks the route Gunhead set for his patrol. It brings him through the city, brushing along the edge of Hawks’ patrol district. Sometimes he can see Hawks in the air, flying lazy circles. He can see him right now, actually, looping around, eyes trained on the ground. 

Gunhead sends him with earpieces that link together with any other heroes in the area; it’s common in the bigger agencies, he’s noticed. Takeshita didn’t have any, but Majestic and Manual did. He tilts his head, clicking the button on his shoulder to turn on the chatter as he starts his patrol. 

“... looooooovely day, isn’t it?” Hawks is in the middle of saying. 

“Really need you to keep this channel open for emergencies, Hawks,” Vortex says irritably. 

“Comet, signing on. Patrol route seven for Gunhead,” he intones, ignoring them entirely. “Vortex, stay off of my route. We don’t need to blow up half of the district,” he adds. Vortex’s Quirk is Vapor Vortex; a thick gas that lowers visibility to nothing. It’s also quite flammable. 

Vortex huffs in his ear. “... Yeah, alright. I’m on route twelve for Majestic, anyway; I’m way over here,” she says. 

“Comet!” Hawks chirps, sounding unduly pleased. “You’re on route for Gunhead? I thought you were still working with Manual!” 

Touya presses the button that audibly clicks off his microphone and hears a collection of laughs. He glances up, hearing a flutter of wings above him just before Hawks lands next to him with a tap. 

“Comet! You hung up on me!” he complains, shooting Touya a thousand-watt smile that drips of inauthenticity. 

Touya sighs. “You’d think you’d have gotten the hint,” he replies, keeping up his steady pace, his eyes flicking across the street, scanning for any threats. 

“I’m no good with hints,” he replies easily, putting his hands behind his head, walking with him. 

“I’ll be direct, then: we’re not friends, Hawks. We worked a singular mission together, and I lit you on fire,” he deadpans, lips twisting at the memory. Hawks had darted forward at the same time Touya attacked the villain, causing the short, controlled burst that would have done very little damage at the very long range the villain was at to make his very flammable, very close range left wing go up like a Lucifer. Touya’d had to drag him around for the latter half of the mission until they could get to medics.

Hawks laughs easily, fluttering his wings. “I remember! I felt like we had a special something, personally,” he says, leaning in to wink. 

Touya frowns. Hawks–does this. He shows up, flirts. Touya isn’t sure what to make of it. It feels like he’s being made fun of more often than not, and he wants to lash out and tell him to stop being stupid. It’s more likely that Hawks is like this with everyone, that it doesn’t mean anything at all, so he settles back on what he’s been doing: he ignores it. 

“We did not,” he replies blandly. “Don’t you have a sky to patrol?” 

“Not at the moment! Rhythmic is watching my section for me!” he says, grinning. “I’m taking a break so I can talk to my favorite celestial body.” He flicks his hands out in finger guns, and flicks his eyes up and down to make sure Touya knows it’s a shitty pick up line. 

“Nebula is at Majestic’s agency,” he deadpans, looking away from him. 

Hawks blinks. “Nebula?” he asks. 

Touya frowns at him. “Do you not remember working with her? She was on the same mission with us,” he says. “She has a light refraction Quirk.” 

Hawks blinks. “... Right. Yes. I remember,” he says, grinning. “But I said my favorite,” he clarifies. 

“Right. And logically, the one that did not light you on fire should be your favorite,” Touya says. 

“My wing grew back! It’s no big deal!” he says, ruffling his wings as if to prove his point. “You’re distracting me. I wanted to ask you something,” he says. 

Touya sighs. “What.” 

“Do you want to get lunch with me today? I’m planning on going to that chicken place over in between our routes,” he says, pointing, his feathers doing a little puff-up-ruffle maneuver that would seem almost nervous if Touya didn’t know any better. 

But this is Hawks, and Touya does know better. His eyes narrow. “I’m a vegetarian,” he says flatly. Smelling his own flesh burning repeatedly had put him off of meat. Go figure. 

“Oh,” Hawks says blankly, his wings drooping. “Uh.” 

“If that’s all,” he says, picking up his walking speed, cutting across the street to exit the conversation. 

“Wait–Comet–I–” Hawks starts. 

“Havoc reporting, in pursuit of a villain, crossing route eight to route seven, over the Lensway bridge; Quirk unknown. Who’s nearby?” a sharp voice snaps out. 

Touya spins around, taking off in that direction at a sprint. Hawks is in the air already.

“Hawks reporting, en route, ETA twenty seconds.”

“Comet reporting, en route, ETA forty-five seconds,” he chimes in. 

“Thunder Dome, in pursuit, villain in sight,” a rough voice says. “Not sure what I’m looking at here; I’m going to try a shock and see what it gets me. Comms back in a mo’,” he barks. 

“Hawks on site! Villain is! Kind of gross, actually! Looks like they’re covered in some kind of armor. Thunder Dome just zapped him, think he might have shorted out the comms because he’s yelling, and we’re not hearing anything,” he says. “Evacuating civilians now!” 

Touya skids around the corner, and the bridge finally comes into sight. He curses the fact that he can’t use his flames to fly like Endeavor can because it makes him so goddamn slow. Thunder Dome is engaged with a mass of what looks like a man in a suit of off-white armor, punching into the chest of the figure with crackles of white-yellow lightning, while Havoc is jumping around the edges, trying to figure out how to assist without bringing down the bridge. Havoc’s Quirk is a rebound of kinetic energy, but the brick bridge is old, and any distribution of that kind of energy is likely to send it tumbling. Every time either hero gets close, shards of the same material that the armor is made of fly out like spears from the  armor. 

“Comet on site. Armor looks like it might be bone. Anyone closer able to confirm? Is it coming out of them?” he asks, scanning the area to make sure no civilians are in the way. 

Hawks is soaring people out of the way left and right, so Touya is able to run straight toward the trouble. 

Havoc darts forward, landing a rough punch that cracks off a chunk of armor. Touya winces. 

“Definitely bone!” she says. 

“You heroes are all the same,” the villain sneers. “You think just because you’re paid by the government you can do whatever you want, don’t you?” 

“Alright, can you two back off? I think I can burn through it, but I need space to work–it’s going to get hot,” Touya says. He’s intimately familiar with how hot he’ll need to burn to make bone brittle enough to punch through. 

“Oh, shit,” Havoc says, launching herself out of the way at full speed. Thunder Dome is running before Touya is finished speaking. Touya smirks. 

See? A reasonable reaction to his Quirk. 

“You know,” he calls to the villain, drawing his attention away from the fleeing heroes. “Most people think getting paid to do a job, and then doing that job is a pretty reasonable thing.” He leaps forward, landing on the bridge, putting his hands out. “I’m not sure what your job is. Do you even have one?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. 

“It’s humbling heroes like you,” the villain replies, rearing back to do some kind of attack. Touya pulls hard on the heat that lives in his chest, stoking the flames of his Quirk until it burns into a raging inferno, unleashing it down his arms and out through his palms. It burns, a little more than usual, actually, a crackling pain searing up his arms, but he’s well past used to it, not even wincing as it chars through the layers of bone that protect the villain, scorching them. He sprints forward, barely letting his Quirk go out before he slams his fist into the helmet-like formation of bone over the figure’s head. It shatters underneath his fist, slicing his fingers in several spots. 

He hisses, but he’ll deal with it later. The villain is a man, no older than thirty with eyes that are pure white. He glares. 

“You think that’s all it takes to defeat Bone Barrage?” he asks in a grandiose voice, throwing his arms out. 

Touya can’t help it–he laughs. “Bone Barrage?” he asks. “That’s a bad name, and you should feel bad,” he says, rearing back to punch him again. 

It’s a stupid mistake, getting distracted with banter of all things, but come on. Bone Barrage? 

There’s a reason Touya doesn’t often fight up close; he’s not great at it; he misses the cues when Bone Barrage pulls his hand back, and then–

“Comet, get back!” Hawks yells, half in his comms, and half not. Touya gets distracted for half a second as he realizes Hawks is swooping in, and–

Ah, apparently Bone Barrage is called Bone Barrage because he sends his bones. In a barrage of shards. 

He should have expected that, actually; he saw him doing it when he first showed up, but he doesn’t, so he sort of ends up a pin cushion for weird bone shards, and that’s kind of annoying. Hawks kicks the villain in the face on his down swoop, hard, and he falls back onto the bridge. Hawks looks stupidly cool as he does a little aerial flip before landing next to Touya, crouching down. 

“Shit, shit–are you okay?” he asks. 

“Great. Fucking peachy,” Touya snaps. He’s not. He sat down at some point, and he doesn’t remember doing that, so that’s not great. He’s got a bone that’s about three inches long sticking out of his side, and then another that’s about four or so sticking out of his shoulder. Those seem to be the longest, but there are plenty that are one or two inches in various other parts of his torso and arms. Nothing in his neck or face, at least, since he managed to cover his face, and nothing in a major artery, at least. He is worried by how much his side is bleeding, though. 

“Hawks reporting, villain is incapacitated, Comet is down, need medical and police in, stat,” Hawks reports quickly. He clicks off the comms. “Let me look,” he says, pushing at his shoulder, sending a shock of pain down his spine and arm. 

“I will roast you the fuck alive if you touch that again, birdie,” he hisses in pain. 

“... You might want to turn off your comms,” Hawks says, snickering. 

“... Threat to life retracted. Please disregard,” he mutters into the comms, then clicks off his mic. He hears a few snickers.

“Let me look,” Hawks repeats, leaning over to try to look at his side. He flips his visor up onto his head, his sharp gaze on full display. His eyes are–weird. 

Touya doesn’t think about Hawks’ gaze often–he doesn’t–but it’s a well-known fact that Hawks’ gaze is well-known for being unsettling to villains, and even, occasionally, to other heroes. He rarely takes off the yellow-tinted visor that’s part of his costume, and seems to make a point to blink when he’s around other people. Touya isn’t being weird for noticing that, he really isn’t, it’s just–Hawks blinks every eight seconds. Every. Single. Time. Like he’s trained himself to do it, rather than doing it naturally, and it’s weird. Hawks is the weird one here, not Touya. 

Right now, Hawks isn’t blinking at all while he looks over Touya’s wounds, and that’s probably more unsettling. The marks around his eyes remind him of birds of prey, of lions and tigers and wolves, and the fact that he won’t goddamn blink is just…

Touya huffs. “Staring at them won’t make them go away,” he grumbles. 

Hawks flicks his unsettling gaze up to Touya’s face. “I know. I’m trying to figure out what exactly it might have punctured before the ambulance gets here,” he says. He grins. “Gotta give a full report, y’know?” 

Touya stares down at himself. “You could have just asked,” he says, staring down at himself. “Small intestine at worst, but I think I’m in the clear, frankly. My arm’s a little numb, so this shoulder is pretty fucked,” he says, gesturing to his shoulder. “No major arteries. Hurts like a son of a bitch, but not worse than a second degree burn up your entire spine, like… as a range of pain, so,” he offers with a snort. 

Hawks’ pupils narrow into slits and that’s–even more unsettling. He feels his heart rate speed up, feeling like a rabbit in a trap. “Ah,” he says, his voice not matching his expression. “Did you have trouble controlling your Quirk when you were younger?” 

“Yes,” he answers, because it’s true, although that’s not why he knows what a second degree burn up his spine feels like. He stares at Hawks. “Did you evacuate everyone?” 

“Of course,” Hawks answers. “Just worried about you, now.” 

“It’s been way longer than eight seconds,” Touya blurts, because he’s an idiot. 

Hawks blinks immediately, and Touya stares at him. “... Eight seconds since what?” he asks. “Did you hit your head?” he asks. He puts his hand against his forehead, like he’s checking for a temperature. And he blinks again–exactly eight seconds after the first time. 

“Nothing,” Touya says, tilting his head. “I think I’ve lost–a lot of blood,” he says quietly. 

“Medics on site,” a voice crackles across their earpieces. A moment later, he hears someone calling to them, and the moment is broken. 

Touya wonders, later, why he cares so much about it. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hawks is interested in the Todorokis. 

Call it a side project. The Commission owns him, body, Quirk, and soul, but despite their best efforts, they can’t actually own his every single thought. They do plan his missions, his lodgings, his work out plans, most of his PR, and his agency, but he does get some leeway–they can’t watch him every second of every day, no matter how hard they try. Once he breaks the top ten, he’s expected to make certain appearances, to meet up with other heroes, and to be aware of other heroes. 

As the number six hero, he has to know what’s happening. If he uses that to his advantage to pay a little more attention to some heroes over others, so be it. The Commission doesn’t need to know as long as it doesn’t affect his efficacy or ranking. Endeavor is the reason he became a hero, so it only makes sense that he would pay attention to Endeavor. 

It starts off that way, anyway. 

He starts off keeping tabs on just Endeavor; watching his appearances, his rescues, his agency. And then he realizes that Enji Todoroki has children who are Hawks’ age, doing exceptional things, and that's a whole revelation in and of itself. Shouto Todoroki is still young–too young to be doing much of anything yet, Fuyumi Todoroki is teaching, Natsuo is publishing papers on Quirk health science that he can barely understand, and Touya Todoroki–

Touya Todoroki is a hero. 

He follows Touya Todoroki’s debut with rapt attention, starting with a video, shaky and too far away, of the hero Comet aiding a rural fire fighting department stop a forest fire from reaching a small town by creating a firebreak and counterburning a frankly ridiculously long line of foliage, tending to it for what the article says is hours, extending from one night well into the next. The video is only ten minutes, but the article the video is embedded to has photos upon photos of Comet in his hero suit.

Touya looks like a God as Comet in a tight-fitted black and blue bodysuit that shows off miles of lean muscles and a fire-proof duster with tails that trail behind him like comet tails; thick metal bands sit at his wrist, elbows, and waist–some kind of cooling devices? Most of the pictures show him haloed by the blue flame of his Quirk, focused, determined, looking carved from white marble with his pale skin and white hair, ash coating his costume, his face, his hair. 

His eyes are the same color as his flame. The one picture that has him staring at the camera intensely with his lips twisted in a small frown makes Hawks’ sixteen-year-old heart stutter in his chest. He watches Touya’s career advance with… probably more interest than is normal. 

Comet’s career advances… slowly, for some reason Hawks can’t fathom. 

He graduates the top of his class, but somehow only manages to wrangle a sidekick position at Takeshita’s agency. He would have expected the number two hero’s son to go straight to his agency, but he seems almost dead set on being anywhere other than where Endeavor is. 

Comet’s stats are impressive–his property damage stats are almost absurdly low for someone with such a destructive Quirk, especially when his next sidekick position moves him to Majestic’s agency, further into the city. His rescue stats are impressive, and he even manages to do alright on team-up missions, when he has to. But his approval ratings aren’t the best. 

Beyond what’s practically required, Comet has nothing in the way of interviews or photos; he has the occasional debrief after a villain capture, a periodic quote when he’s caught after a court case, pictures of him in action in the city, as well as a few pictures circulating of him when he was in Shiketsu. 

Hawks thinks the only thing holding him back has to be his lack of PR; his stats, Quirk, and hero work are too exceptional to be holding him back from being in the top twenty with him. He wonders if he could convince him to team up… 

He doesn’t have to, as it turns out. 

Their agencies team up to take down an illegal Quirk fighting ring. By pure happenstance and absolutely not by design whatsoever, he and Hawks end up on the final approach together. Hawks is maybe a little too enthusiastic and a little too eager to show off his speed to Touya because he almost ends up blowing the entire mission when he zips forward in front of him like an absolute rookie, not hearing Touya’s panicked shout in time until his wing is ablaze. 

Touya is on him in a second, pulling the pin on something that unleashes a jet of extinguishing foam, cursing up a storm. His face is beautiful in its fury as he drags him to his feet, one hand out to send a jet of flame after the perpetrator of the ring, completing the mission even as he carries Hawks’ deadweight around with him with one arm, snapping in his comms for assistance, snapping questions at Hawks about the nerves in his wings, how his Quirk works, if he can walk, if he inhaled smoke. 

Hawks is–fine, really, just dazed, berating himself for being so stupid, and a little singed on his back, swept away in the maelstrom of activity that is Touya on a mission. He’s had much worse wounds, but the way Touya drags him around like he weighs nothing, he’s–reluctant to stop him. It almost seems like Touya wants to make sure he’s okay, and Hawks just kind of ends up… letting him do that. 

He regrets it later–of course he does. Failed missions are never pleasant–the Commission ensures that. 

But, whatever, it’s worth it. It gives him an opening to talk to Touya. 

And he does–he talks to Touya often–every chance he gets. He has to make it up to him, after all. His handler is very clear about that–he needs to mend that bridge as quickly as possible and make sure that Comet is not angry with him. It’s basically permission to bother Touya Todoroki as much as he wants, and he’s not giving that up any time soon. 

Touya is almost delightfully difficult to make up with, too. He seems resolutely against being friends with Hawks after the whole mishap, but he doesn’t actually seem angry about it. He always seems faintly amused when they talk, willing to entertain banter for at least ten minutes or so before he exits the conversation. 

The thing is, too, he’s seen Touya exit a conversation he doesn’t want to be in–it’s fast; after the mission, a reporter tried to pin Touya down for a comment, and Touya had been gone before she had finished phrasing her first question. He sees Touya do this multiple times since, so he knows that he’s more than capable of getting out of the conversation if he doesn’t actually want to talk. 

Which means he must want to talk, on some level! 

Probably! 

Hawks is choosing to believe that is the case! 

He tries to invite Touya to lunch, and that–goes down like a lead balloon because he didn’t know that Touya is a vegetarian of all things. 

And then he goes and gets Touya stabbed by the villain because he’s not fast enough, not even just once, but… 

He can’t pull his eyes away from the wounds on him. There are at least fourteen different shards sticking from his torso and arms from where he threw them up in front of his face. He pushes his visor up without a thought for a better look; he’s not supposed to. His eyes are wrong, unsettling, predator’s eyes. The visor is to obscure them from view as much as it is to protect them while he flies. His pupils are wrong, his irises too golden, the markings on his face highlighting exactly how inhuman he is. 

He doesn’t blink as often as he should, either–his handlers trained him from a young age to blink much more often than he needs to, but when he focuses, when he’s fighting, or panicking, it’s still all too easy to forget. Hawks has been behind his visor too long, behind the protective layer of glass and people all-too-unwilling to meet his eyes. 

Touya stares at his face unabashedly, his bright turquoise eyes burning like his flames, and he seems to see way too much. 

It seems like a nonsequitur when he blurts out, “It’s been way longer than eight seconds,” but he’s staring directly at Hawks’ eyes as he says it. 

Hawks remembers his first handler, when he was only eight, telling him that he was “a little freaky,” that he needed to stop “fucking staring at him” like he was “going to peck his goddamn eyes out.” When Hawks had tilted his head, clutching his plush of Endeavor, and asked how to do that, the handler had sighed deeply, pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “I don’t fucking know, kid. Try blinking like a normal human. We do that.” 

Hawks had looked it up as soon as he was allowed–when he told them he wanted to understand how to be more human, they had allowed it. He looked up how often humans blinked. The answer was that humans generally blinked once every two to ten seconds. Every two seconds felt–excessive. He tried it and felt like he was missing things. Every ten seconds felt like he was still waiting too long. Eight seconds, though, felt–okay, he guessed. Still too often for his comfort, but his handlers seemed pleased. He could add in an extra here and there to make a point, or miss one here and there to seem baffled. It was a tool, he realized, something he could use to his advantage. 

No one has ever stared at him long enough to realize that he’s doing it before, thought.

It’s–exhilarating. 

Terrifying.

Most definitely not something he can acknowledge. 

“Eight seconds since what?” he asks, blinking. “Did you hit your head?” He puts the back of his slightly trembling hand on Touya’s forehead, like he’s checking for a fever. He does actually checks for the fever while he’s there, but he also relishes in the feel of Touya’s smooth skin because he’s nothing if not an opportunist. 

Touya is cold, actually, to the touch. He would have expected him to be warm, with a fire Quirk, but he feels like he just walked out of a walk-in. Hawks frowns slightly. 

“Nothing,” Touya says–lies, because his eyes flicker away for just a second. “I think I’ve lost a lot of blood.” He has lost a fair amount of blood, but not nearly enough to make him delirious, not even enough to dull that sharpness in his gaze. 

Hawks is still trying to figure out how to respond–what lie to hand back to him, what the next step in their game is, when the medics arrive. He flips his visor down, grins, and turns to deal with clean-up. 

He’s the number six hero, after all. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hawks’ handler of the moment is a slight young woman named Reiko Nakahara. Nakahara is… probably his least favorite handler so far. She smiles at him from his couch in his apartment when he gets home that night, and he stands stock still for exactly one second before he smiles widely in return. 

“Nakahara! I didn’t expect you tonight. I would have brought take-out,” he says jovially. He’s expected to be genial and kind, so he is. He leaves on his boots, though he hates wearing them inside. He doesn’t take off his shoes in front of others–that’s a Rule. 

He flits his wings so he doesn’t touch the floor, coming over to her, and hovers, trying to look relaxed. “What can I do ya for?” 

Nakahara stands, tilting her head with a small smile. Her face is narrow, like her entire frame. She’s entirely unassuming, with lank brown hair and flat brown eyes that lack depth. Her clothes are simple office attire, slacks and a white button up, her jacket laid across the couch next to her. She rolls up her sleeves carefully. “You’ve failed a second mission with the same Pro-Hero, Hawks,” she says. “Would you like to explain why Comet was injured during this mission?” 

Hawks’ feet drop to the ground immediately, his arms dropping to his sides. “I was too slow,” he replies immediately, his voice flat now that he knows what kind of meeting this is. 

She nods. “You were too slow,” she agrees. “And?” 

“And not good enough,” he continues. “I should have evacuated the citizens faster, and moved Comet out of the way,” he replies. 

“Correct. What happens when Hawks arrives?” she asks. 

“No one is injured. Everyone gets out alive. Everything goes perfectly,” he recites. 

“No one is injured. Everyone gets out alive. Everything. Goes. Perfectly,” she returns, stepping forward. “Is that what happened this time?” 

“No,” he answers. 

“No,” she agrees amicably. She sighs, reaching up to grab his shoulder. “No, it is not. Down,” she says, pushing. He drops to his knees, bowing his head immediately. She steps to the side, holding the back of his neck. “How long, do you think?” she asks, tipping her head to the side. “How long do you think Comet’s pain is worth?” 

Hawks considers. It will have taken fifteen minutes to get him to Gunhead's–they have a healer on staff who could close the wounds and heal him. Fifteen minutes of pain, maybe twenty. Thirty, if they ran into traffic, or if the removal of the shards was troublesome. 

“Three hours,” he answers hesitantly. 

Nakahara laughs. “You’re right. I think six hours will do nicely,” she agrees. He nods. He knew she would double whatever he said–he’s glad he went low. She runs her nails down the back of his neck, and her Quirk activates. 

It’s familiar, at this point, the way Agony Amplifier bursts through his body. It starts with the cut she made at the back of his neck, making the the small scratch feel like he’s been flayed bare. Then it moves on. The muscle he twinged earlier in his patrol feels like it’s been torn asunder, ripped to pieces then stapled back together poorly, then soaked in acid. An old stab wound that normally aches feels ripped open anew, bleeding him open on the floor. 

It’s familiar, but he’s not used to it by any means. 

He can stop himself from screaming, but that’s all he can do against the onslaught. He keeps himself still, and that’s all he manages. 

Six more hours to go. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

When Hawks has showered, eaten, and is a little less shaky, six hours and fifteen minutes later, he’s shocked to see a text on his phone. 

Unknown Number - 16:23 
This is Comet. You gave me your number during the last team-up.
You seemed. Concerned. I figured it was good manners to let you know that I am fine. 

The text is from hours ago. Hawks scrambles to reply immediately. 

Hawks - 22:38
!!!!!!! thank you for letting me know!
wait! you burned my card when i gave it to you. how do you have my number? you didnt put it in your phone
did you get it from someone else?

He remembers it vividly. He had given Touya his card specifically, and Touya had flicked a lazy glance at it, rolled his eyes, then clicked his fingers with a flash of Blueflame that had turned it to ash. It had been–

Startlingly attractive, actually. 

☄Comet ☄ - 22:41
Not important.

Hawks - 22:41
mmm agree to disagree? kind of important if someone is giving out my number without telling me! i gotta know! for security! 

☄Comet ☄ - 22:43
You gave me your number. No one else did. That is all you need to know. 

Hawks - 22:43
except that you never put it in your phone! sooooo how do you have it? 𓏗𓏗𓏗𓏗

☄Comet ☄- 22:45 
I remembered it. Don’t make it weird. 

Hawks - 22:45
i wasn’t GOING to but now i kinda really wanna make it weird. HOW did you remember a number from a card that you burned like. forever ago. that you barely looked at.
you’re gonna give a bird an ego ¬‿¬

☄Comet ☄ - 22:48
You already have an ego.
I remember everything I look at, particularly words and numbers. I looked at your card, so I remembered it. I’m telling you. Don’t. Make. It. Weird.

Hawks - 22:48
… that’s the coolest thing ive ever heard actually??
WAIT is that why you’re so good at remembering all the sidekicks around here
you literally know all of them and their quirks the second they talk in the comms

☄Comet ☄ - 22:52
I don’t like texting.

Hawks sighs, assuming he’s done with the conversation, and sets his phone down. 

… only to rip his phone back off the table as it starts vibrating. 

☄Comet ☄ is calling . . . 

He mashes the accept button. 

“Comet?” he asks breathlessly. 

“I hate hitting buttons,” he grumbles, and his voice sounds–off, slightly, softer, quieter than normal. “How do you type so quickly?” 

“... It’s a keyboard,” Hawks answers blankly. 

“Of course. You have one of those phones with the screens, don’t you?” he asks, and Hawks can imagine his narrowed eyes. 

“... Oh my god, do you have a flip phone?” he asks. 

“Yes? We’re heroes, Hawks, do you know how fragile glass screens are? Disregard that, do you know how not heatproof glass screens are?” Touya asks irritably. 

“They make heatproof smartphones!” he replies incredulously, absolutely overjoyed with the conversation at hand. 

“Those are expensive. Flip phones are not,” Touya says. 

He hears a distant beep… beep… beep… and realizes Touya is probably in a hospital of some sort–that does make him frown. “Are you still in the hospital?” he asks. 

There’s a beat of silence. “Yeah, for now. They’re keeping me overnight,” he mutters, and he sounds–almost vulnerable for a moment. “I’m fine, but they don’t want me to leave, and my sister won’t let me sign out AMA,” he says, his voice tightening back to irritable.

Hawks soaks up the information. Fuyumi–his sister has seen him, then. He feels–like a stalker, for knowing his sister’s name before he tells him. “You have a sister?” he asks, like he doesn’t know. 

Touya hums, sounding almost… amused. “Yes. Fuyumi,” he answers, shifting in the bed. Hawks wonders why they’re–talking right now. It almost feels like they’re friends, and he wants to ask, but he doesn’t want to break the spell. 

“Fuyumi,” Hawks repeats. “That’s a lovely name. How old is she?” 

“A little younger than I am,” he says. “She teaches, and watches over my kid brother.” 

“A brother, too?” Hawks asks.

Touya snorts. “You can stop pretending you don’t know how many kids Endeavor has. It’s cute, but it’s not getting you anywhere,” he says sardonically. 

Hawks wilts onto the couch, even as his heart does a weird little tapdance at ‘it’s cute’. He’d thought he was pretending quite well. “I like hearing you talk about them,” he offers instead–a truth, but not a damning one. “I was hoping you’d tell me more about them.” 

“You can just ask,” Touya says, sounding almost like he's--pouting. 

Hawks pauses for a long moment. “... Can I?” he asks, cocking his head. 

“I’d rather it over lies,” he says. “You haven’t asked about Endeavor at all,” he says thoughtfully. “It’s been… what? Four or five months since our first team up? And you keep talking to me. You keep asking about my hobbies. My likes. My dislikes. But not Endeavor,” he says. Again, Hawks can hear his expression through the phone, the pursed lips, the narrowed eyes. “I don’t answer you more than I do, but you keep asking.” 

Hawks shifts. “Does that mean I’m–doing something right, then?” he asks hesitantly. He hasn’t felt like he was. 

A long, long pause. It’s only the steady beeps that tell Hawks that Touya is still there. 

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” he finally allows, reluctantly. 

Hawks briefly thinks this might be what drugs feel like. He’s never actually been on them, but surely this is what being high has to feel like, because it’s a moment of pure bliss to hear that he’s–not doing anything wrong. He’s doing something right. 

It’s barely an acknowledgement, it’s not even proper praise, but it’s encouragement enough to keep him going for another four months, easily. 

“Great!” he chirps. “So–your kid brother?” he prompts. “He’s Shouto, right?” 

A hum. “Yeah,” Touya says. “He’s going to UA next year.” 

Hawks flits around the apartment, just to give him some way to get his energy out. Touya is talking to him. It might just be because he’s bored in the hospital. Visiting hours are over well past over; it’s past ten, and he’s probably just bored, and Hawks is there to talk to, but Touya could just call his sister, or his brother, or his other brother, but he’s talking to Hawks. 

“You didn’t go to UA, did you?” Hawks asks. He knows the answer is no, but they’ve never talked about this part with each other. It would be reasonable for Hawks to not know the answer to this, and he shouldn’t make it obvious he’s looked so deeply into Touya’s background. 

“No,” he says. “I went to Shiketsu. I didn’t want to go to the school Endeavor went to,” he says with a sigh. “But I wanted a good education, so… Shiketsu was the compromise. Shouto doesn’t want to be away from home, and he doesn’t give half of a damn where Endeavor went, so… UA,” he says. Hawks imagines that he’s waving his hand, in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way. He wants to see it. 

“God, I can’t imagine the hell he’s going to give the other students in the Sports Festival,” he mutters. 

Touya barks out a laugh. “I don’t even want to think about it,” he groans. “I’m going to have to be there to cheer him on. Endeavor will be there, too. It’s going to be… annoying,” he grumbles. 

Hawks makes a sympathetic little noise. He’s gathered that Touya doesn’t–like his father. He just doesn’t know why. Can he ask? Is that allowed? This peace they have right now is so–confusingly fragile. He thinks he might be able to broach the topic now, if he’s careful. 

He swallows. “Can I ask… Can I ask why you don’t…?” he starts hesitantly. 

The beep… beep… beep… of the monitor in the background speeds up. 

“No,” Touya says firmly. “Best not.” 

Hawks flinches. “Right,” he says immediately. “Sorry.” 

“I have to go,” he says tightly. 

“Wait–” he tries. 

“‘Bye.” The line disconnects, and Hawks stares at his phone, brow furrowing. 

“... Fuck,” he mutters to himself, tossing his phone onto the couch.

Chapter Text

Touya is on so many drugs right now. 

Apparently the base layer of his costume wasn’t ‘on its way out’ like he thought, but closer to ‘absolutely toast’, so he burned a good portion of it off during his encounter with fucking Bone Barrage (yes, he’s still mad about the stupid name). The end result is that he has second-to-third degree burns in patches on his forearms. His jacket held up against his fire, but unfortunately did not hold up against the shards of bone, so he’s got holes in his jacket, too, since several of the projectiles embedded themselves in his arms as well as his torso. Luckily, the blood from the burns and the wounds all mixed together, so Touya’s reasonably sure Hawks couldn’t have noticed that his Quirk burned him–he’s been fairly decent about keeping the particulars of that piece of information out of the media so villains can’t use it against him. 

It does mean he has to stay overnight in this stupid hospital while they give him three separate rounds of healing to make sure he doesn’t run out of energy and die or whatever, and then on top of that, he’s going to have to shell out the extra money to get his base layer replaced now instead of later, and his jacket repaired.

His first call is to his support dev, who starts the order for him. 

His second is to Fuyumi, because she’s his emergency contact, and she, Natsuo, and Shouto scour the news for him anyway, so they’ll both see that he got injured before the day’s over. He tells them in advance, otherwise they–worry. 

It’s weird. Having people worry about him. 

Touya doesn’t allow visitors when he’s in the hospital, no matter who it is. He has to wear the stupid hospital clothes, so his arms are bare. The burns aren’t horrible–they’re not the worst on his body. There are four new, distinct patches. A third degree burn that wraps along his left wrist in a weird curve where his cooling gauntlet and his suit should have met but didn’t. A patch on the underside of his left forearm, a swirling second-degree thing that curls around toward his elbow. His right arm has two jagged burns on the under and top side of his forearm, both second-degree.  Overall, not horrible. He thinks the one at his wrist will scar, but the other three will probably be taken care of by the healing Quirk this hospital has, since they’re so small. 

The way the gown sits, the pinched, raised scars along his collarbones are on display, creeping up the side of his neck from before he had his suit, when he was still concerned with impressing Endeavor and showing that he could just grit his teeth and bear through the pain to become a hero like a fool. 

He doesn’t usually let anyone see them. He’s ashamed of who he was. Of what he did for approval for someone who would never give it, of what he was. Of what he looks like. It’s… ugly. 

He sighs, tipping his head back against the pillows, his head spinning with the motion.

He is on so many drugs. 

They gave him a lot of painkillers, probably way too many. He deals with a lot of pain on a daily goddamn basis. He’s a hero who lights himself on fire, so he told them this pain was really only about a two. They looked at the burns, looked at the spike sticking through his side, and then looked at him again, and asked him “not to be brave.” 

So, he said two-and-a-half. 

Now he’s drugged so hard he’s seeing sounds, and it’s really fucking distracting. 

He isn’t in pain, though, so bang-up job on the doctors’ parts, he guesses. 

Touya picks up his phone again, scrolling through to make sure he called Fuyumi and didn’t hallucinate it. He did call her, apparently, the call log says so. He also apparently texted Natsuo at some point and said, “I Lived, Bitch,” because Natsuo asked how he was doing. Doesn’t remember doing that, but whatever, Natsuo seemed to think it was funny based on the seven consecutive key smashes he sent back. 

One of the nurses has bright, liquid golden-brown eyes when she comes to change his bandages. He stares her down as she works, trying to figure out why he doesn’t like her eyes. They’re not right, but he can’t figure out why. 

Her hair is red, maybe that’s why he doesn’t like her. He was never one for redheads. Go figure. 

The nurse keeps glancing at him nervously as she works. Maybe he just doesn’t like how shy she is. He doesn’t really have the most patience for nervous people. If he were an iota less stoned out of his mind, he’d probably feel bad for scaring her. He knows his resting expression is, charitably put, impolite at the best of times. Shouto, with a newfound discovery of the internet , once described it as a “resting bitch face” before slurping his soba, and Touya had to resist kicking the brat out of the house. 

He realizes, abruptly, as she’s changing the bandage on his right arm, why he doesn’t like her eyes. They’re the right color, but they’re not the right shape, and she blinks too much. She doesn’t have the little marks that make them look more threatening than they are. 

The nurse is more prey than predator, and it makes the eyes wrong. 

What spills out of his stupid mouth is, “You’re not a bird.” 

The nurse pauses. “... No,” she agrees slowly. “No, I am not.” 

Touya makes an annoyed little noise, looking away as she finishes bandaging his arm.

He picks up his phone, staring at it for a long moment. He should text Hawks. Just to let him know he’s fine. That’s polite, right? 

It doesn’t occur to him that he shouldn’t have Hawks’ number; of course he does. Hawks gave it to him months ago. Sure, he burned the card, but he looked at it first, so the number is just there, in his memory, waiting to be accessed. He types it in quickly, pulling up the thread, and sends the text. 

And then he immediately falls asleep. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

By the time he wakes up, he’s–still not in his right mind, not entirely. 

He can focus more clearly, but everything is still soft around the edges; he’s still soft around the edges. He doesn’t feel the need to bite everyone, to snap at everyone for breathing near him like he normally does.

Maybe that’s why his talk with Hawks goes so well, why he tells him so much more than he means to. It’s only when Hawks asks–not even why, but if he can ask why Touya hates his father, and Touya realizes he–might actually be inclined to answer in the moment that he realizes he needs to hang up. He needs to hang up right the fuck now. 

So he does. 

He and Hawks are not friends. 

Talking about trauma is not something to do with someone who is not a friend. 

Touya drags the blanket over his face, contemplating the pros and cons of suffocating himself. The cons list is looking pretty slim, honestly. 

A nurse comes in with the doctor with a healing Quirk, though, and he’s spared from his imminent demise by a round of healing that knocks him back on his ass for another six hours. 

Small favors. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya’s back on patrol with a new body suit and repaired jacket by Monday, four days later. He was right–he’s got a new scar around his wrist, so he’s extended the body suit to his hands with gloves. More to hide. He wonders if any of him will be left by the time he turns twenty-five. Thirty. If he’ll even be alive by then. 

He walks his route, thinking about comets. He guesses they’re not made to last, anyway. Maybe he was always meant to burn out early. At least he got to burn–he never really expected to make it this long, frankly, in as good a shape as he is. 

Touya knows he’s–ugly–but he also knows it could be worse. 

It could be so much worse. 

His comms crackle. 

“Hawks, signing on! Patrol route four for–well, me. Hawks,” he says, like he always does. “How is everyone this lovely morning?” 

“Mornin’ Hawks!” a few voices chirp back. He parses out Vortex, who replies to everyone, Mirage, who likes Hawks in particular, and he thinks he hears Thunder Dome as well.   

“Matrix, signing on, patrol route nine for Manual. Doing fine, Hawks,” a bored voice intones. Touya raises his brows at that. Matrix had been a brand new sidekick when he worked for Manual–she has an intellect-based Quirk, the ability to analyze and support any group she was around. He’s surprised she had already moved on to patrols. It’s barely been a month since she’s started. Normally there would be someone with her for at least the first two weeks, but since no one had introduced her, it means she’s patrolling solo. 

“You must have impressed Manual to get a patrol of your own so early, Matrix. Good work,” he says into the comms. He’s trying to sound complimentary, but he winces at how it comes out. It’s–flat, uninterested, how he always sounds. He hears a little hiss, like someone sucking air through their teeth the moment he says it, and he knows the delivery is all wrong, that they’re reading something into it that he’s not saying. 

“... Thank you, Comet,” Matrix says, her voice ice. “I appreciate your confidence in me.”

Well… Fuck. He’s shot that in the foot, hasn’t he? Maybe if he just–tries to let the words speak for themselves and hopes she doesn’t read too much into the tone, it’ll all figure itself out? 

“You’re welcome,” he replies. Then he clicks his mic off, because his voice is a goddamn weapon of mass destruction to his reputation that should not be used, actually. 

He hears a quiet, “Yikes,” and then several clicks as people turn their mics off. 

Touya walks past a food stand, pausing to incline his head to the proprietor who calls out to him. 

“You’re a Pro-Hero, right?” she asks, grinning 

“Yes,” he answers. “My name is Comet. I’m new to Gunhead’s agency. If you need anything, I’ll be patrolling this area most days.” 

“Great! Thank you! I’m Aiko Matsumoto,” she says, offering her hand. He shakes it dutifully, and she pulls out a small notebook. “Can I get an autograph? I get one from all of the heroes on patrol,” she says shyly. 

“Sure,” he says, pulling out a turquoise marker that doesn’t bleed through paper. He scribbles his signature, a stylized writing of the word ‘Comet’ with a little comet flying over it, and then slides it back to her. “Who all do you have?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Matsumoto flips through the pages quickly, showing him. She has tons, including, he notes, Hawks’. She must seize everyone the second they walk past. 

He nods. “Impressive,” he tells her. “Good work.” 

She flushes darkly, waving her hand. “It’s just a hobby–I’m lucky enough to work in a safe area that’s patrolled by so many heroes! Thank you, Comet! I’ll make sure to keep an eye on your work,” she says. “Here, take this!” She shoves something in his hands before he can decline it, and then waves him away. It’s some kind of steamed bean bun.

Touya blinks, then nods, turning to return to his patrol, feeling sort of like he’s been reverse mugged, with a bean bun in hand. He settles back into his patrolling pace, his eyes scanning for trouble until he hears the tap of Hawks landing next to him. 

He sighs, not bothering to look as he holds his arm out, smacking the hand with the bean bun into his chest. “Got you a present,” he says nonchalantly.

Touya feels more than hears the confused warble that starts in Hawks’ chest, not quite making it all the way out of his mouth. “Wha–?” he asks. 

“Apology bun. Someone gave it to me. I don’t want it. You eat it,” he says quickly. “Take it before I drop it.” 

Hawks scrambles to grab it. “Wait–who–what are you apologizing for?” he asks. 

Touya glances at him sidelong. He doesn’t look annoyed. He looks mostly baffled and somewhat stressed. Maybe he’s not actually mad that Touya called him at ten o’ clock at night, dumped fifteen minutes of weird sibling lore on him, and then hung up on him like an emotionally stunted weirdo in a drugged haze when they are not friends. 

Hm. 

That doesn’t make sense at all. 

Is he just screwing with him? Trying to get him to own up to it so he can mock him properly? That’s a possibility. He narrows his eyes, considering him. Apparently he’s taking too long to think, because Hawks starts talking again. 

“Or is it an apology bun that someone gave you, and you don’t want it? Also, why don’t you want it? Is it meat?” Hawks asks, staring at it curiously. “No, it’s redbean, it says on the package…” 

Touya huffs a sigh. “I called you. It was late. They put me on a fuckton of drugs, and I’m not sure I was making the most sense,” he says, irritably. “I’m sure it was annoying. Eat it.” 

Hawks relaxes immediately, his wings settling. “Oh! You mean–the hospital. Right. Okay.” He takes a bite, nodding, then hums as he chews. “I wasn’t annoyed,” he says after a moment. 

Touya nods once. He can let it go at that. 

“You updated your costume,” Hawks says, his eyes focused on his hands. His eyes rake upwards. “... The whole suit is new, isn’t it?” 

He blinks. Noticing the gloves… might not be weird. But the body suit is an exact replica of his last one, so there’s no reason for him to notice it’s a new one. 

“It is,” he says carefully. 

“Why did you decide to add gloves?” he asks curiously. 

“Why do you wear gloves?” Touya asks, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks. 

Hawks’ footsteps falter slightly, and he laughs, his smile slipping right into that thousand-watt fake one. “No reason,” he lies. 

“Then I don’t have a reason for adding mine,” he replies flatly. 

Hawks tilts his head to the side. “Fair enough,” he replies. “... I wanted to ask if you would be interested in something,” he adds. 

Touya sighs quietly. “What.” 

Hawks’ feathers pull in, closer to his body, his shoulders hunching slightly. “My PR agent wants me to do this–thing,” he starts, shoving his hands in his pockets. He kicks a rock, his eyes tracking it as it rolls away. “It’s stupid.” 

“Your first mistake was having a PR agent,” Touya says. He doesn’t have one for a reason. He hates public appearances. Gunhead keeps pulling him into his office to push for more of them, asking him to speak to the press more after villain takedowns, to accept interview requests, to post things on his social media. He has it, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. He’s gotten to the number forty-nine spot without doing all of that, and he can get higher without doing it. He just… needs more time than other people who play the game. 

“I think your first mistake was not having one,” Hawks says dryly with a small laugh. “You’d have way more money if you had one,” he points out. 

Touya shifts uncomfortably. “Being a hero isn’t supposed to be about money,” he says. 

But he has to admit, having more money would be… nice. Shouto is shooting up like a weed, and if he starts using the fire side of his Quirk any time soon, the clothing budget he’s been scraping together isn’t going to be nearly enough. 

“You’re distracting me,” Hawks says. “The–thing. It’s… basically… I have to invite someone. I have to pick someone. It would be an interview and a photoshoot.” 

“What does that have to do with me?” Touya asks. 

Hawks’ wings pull closer, his shoulders hunching in slightly more. “It’s on–it’s on teamwork,” he says. “Team ups between heroes, you know.” 

Touya stops walking, slowly turning to look at him. 

Hawks doesn’t look at him, looking resolutely at the ground. 

Touya laughs, hard, because Hawks has to be joking this time. It’s a good joke! A really good one, actually! He’s half doubled over, holding an arm around himself, choking on his own laughter. “Oh, fuck–oh, shit–you’re–you’re kidding,” he says. 

He looks up at Hawks, who–isn’t laughing with him, just staring at him without blinking, one hand over his mouth, his brow furrowed slightly, like Touya is a particularly difficult math problem. 

“You’re not kidding,” he says, staring at him.

“... No,” he says. “But that sure was a reaction,” he says, grinning. “I’ve never seen you laugh so hard at something. You could’ve just said ‘no,’” he offers. 

“Literally why would you want to do anything public on team ups with me, Hawks? We’ve teamed up twice. I lit you on fire,” he says, holding up a finger, “and then I got shish-kabobed,” he says, lifting a second finger. “What part of that says ‘great at team ups’ to you?” 

Hawks shrugs. “Your stats on team ups with everyone else are great. You work well with others, and you’re great at knowing who’s on site and how to work with them. Those two incidents were my fault, not yours,” he says, looking away. 

Touya blinks. What the fuck?

“How the hell were those–you know what, I’m on patrol. I don’t have time to talk about this right now,” he says, abruptly realizing he hasn’t been paying nearly enough attention to his surroundings. Someone could have robbed a convenience store under his nose, and it’s a 50/50 shot whether he’d notice. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look. When do you get off of work?” he asks. 

Hawks tilts his head slightly, a jerky motion that feels particularly bird-like. “Seven,” he says. 

“I’ll meet you at your agency at seven, then. We’ll talk about this later. Go finish your patrol,” he says. 

Hawks nods once. “Alright. I’ll–see you at seven, then!” he says, his voice close to a chirp. He spins on his heel, kicking off into the sky.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hawks flits into his agency at exactly seven, entirely too excited at the prospect of seeing Touya again. He said ‘We’ll talk about this later,’ which means there’s more to talk about–it’s not an outright ‘no’, despite the way he had laughed. And oh, what a laugh it had been. Touya had laughed until tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes, half curled over, barking out little breathless wheezes, completely lost to mirth in a way Hawks had never seen before. Touya always seems so composed, normally, but that–that was… 

That was something. He wants to see that again. 

His PR manager, Daichi Morioka, had approached him last night with the idea of a team up co-op… specifically with Comet. He would have picked Touya if he had the choice, but at least the Commission won’t have any reason to question his choice now. 

A few people call out hellos, so Hawks waves back, but he’s a birdman on a mission. He zips around the corner, looking for the front desk, planning to see if Touya has already shown up and checked in with the secretary. Instead, he sees the tall, lean form of Touya himself leaning against the desk, holding a Hawks branded plastic water bottle, talking with Rhythmic at the front desk. 

He doesn’t look–relaxed, exactly. He looks like he’s trying to look relaxed, slouched with his elbows on the counter, holding the bottle by the neck, one long, long leg crossed over the other, his gaze focused on Rhythmic, but his shoulders are hunched slightly, tense, and his brows are pinched in the middle. 

Hawks doesn’t move into view, instead hanging back just close enough to listen without making himself known quite yet. 

“... it’s just not overall useful, you know? I can’t pick who my music targets. If I play a song of strength, everyone gets stronger. If I play a song of panic, everyone is affected,” Rhythmic says, frustrated. 

“It works through a speaker, right?” Touya asks, making an impatient little motion with the water bottle in his hand. 

“I mean, yeah, but what would that–” he starts. 

“You’re not being very creative, Rhythmic,” he says flatly with a small frown. “Why don’t you use something electric with directional speakers? Present Mic makes plenty of use of directional speakers, have you tried something similar to his tech? Or try recording something and playing it through comms for people on your side that you fight with often?” 

Rhythmic blinks, and Hawks is struck by the fact that Rhythmic is very young.

“I’d kill to work with you, kid, but your support gear needs some serious work. It looks like it’s all to stop you from taking a beating instead of doing anything to reinforce your Quirk. Not getting hit is important, but not at the cost of being an effective hero,” he says. “Who’s your support gear tech?” 

“I, uh–don’t… have one… right now…” he says slowly. “I–I used the one we had in school, and I don’t–I don’treallyknowwheretogetanewone,” he says in a rush. 

“Christ. You work for the number six hero, have no tech, and they didn’t set you up with a new one right away? The hell did you manage that?” he asks, leaning back, his face twisting into something that looks almost like disgust. 

Rhythmic scrunches into himself, looking abashed. “I got scouted out of school,” he mumbles. 

“Of course you did. Why am I not surprised?” he mutters. “One sec.” He turns around. “Yokishita?” he asks, tilting his head at the receptionist. 

Yokishita perks up, having been watching the exchange with wary eyes. “Er… yes?” she asks. 

“Can I borrow a pen and have a piece of paper, please?” he asks. 

She nods, sliding over a notepad and a red pen quickly. 

Touya nods, scribbling something out in sharp handwriting. “I wrote down three techs. First one is cheap and decent, second one is expensive but worth it–she works on Present Mic’s gear, and the last one is a midpoint between the two. Names and contact info for each. Take your pick.” He holds out the paper. “If you hate all of them, ask someone for recommendations. Don’t just sit around being less because you don’t know what to do,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Your Quirk is powerful and interesting. Bolster it, learn it, be creative, and make it work for you.” 

Rhythmic stares at him with wide eyes, like he just hung the moon. Hawks can relate. “Thank you, Mr. Comet! I–I’ll definitely–thank you! I’ll call them!”

“Whatever,” he says, waving his hand as Rhythmic scuttles away. He unscrews the cap, taking a drink. “Ridiculous,” he mutters to himself.

Hawks rounds the desk, grinning. “That was really sweet,” he says.

Touya narrows his eyes. “Hawks,” he greets, like he’s just going to skip over the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Comet,” he replies, leaning on the desk. “I just saw you talking to Rhythmic–” 

“You should have talked to him yourself,” Touya says, crossing his arms irritably. “He’s got a great Quirk, but he’s got no support items outside of that pan flute,” he says. “What kind of work is he supposed to do with that?” 

“It’s not always about support items,” Hawks says thoughtfully. “But you might have a point with him. He does need something if he’s going to work with teams.” 

“Which is inevitable in this city, and particularly in an agency this big. You can’t just expect him to figure out a way to get around it,” he says impatiently. He glances around, his shoulders hunching slightly at the number of people around them. “Do you have an office or something?” he asks. 

“I do. Come on,” Hawks says, gesturing him along. Touya follows him to the elevator. Now that they’re inside, he can hear the heavy thud, thud, thud of his boots, each confident step like a stomp behind him. He steps onto the elevator, and Touya steps inside with him. 

The elevators aren’t particularly small, but Touya seems dead set on being as far away as he can in the space, backed into the corner, arms crossed. Despite that, Hawks is vibrantly aware of the fact that Touya smells like a bonfire, like a wildfire in a forest, smokey and almost–earthy in a way? The scent fills the small space almost immediately. It’s–fascinating. Hawks finds himself shifting slightly closer, wanting to parse out the undertones of the scent–

“Floor,” Touya says tightly. “Which floor.” 

“What?” Hawks asks blankly. 

“Floor. The floor. For your office. What floor? You have to hit a button for the elevator to move, Hawks,” he says impatiently. 

Jesus Christ. He’s just been staring at Touya, unblinking, for thirty seconds, basking in how he smells. Get it together, Hawks. He mashes the button for floor twenty-three, laughing awkwardly. “Wow. I am really uncaffeinated today,” he says. “Sorry ‘bout that!” 

Touya frowns at him, squinting at him for a moment. “... S’fine,” he says, looking away. They step out as the elevator opens, and Touya has to shift around someone skittering into the elevator. He follows him to the end of the floor into his office, shutting the door behind him. 

Hawks flits over to the mini fridge in the corner. “Do you want a drink? I have coffee, soda…” he opens it, looking inside. “Oh, snacks!” he says, delighted, rattling a box of hot wings. “You don’t want these. I do. Later.” He shoves them back into the fridge, toward the back, then hums, squinting. “... Yeah. Coffee. Soda. Do you… want either of those?” he asks. 

Touya stares at him. “... You can eat if you want to eat, Hawks. I don’t care. I’ll take a coffee if you take one, because whatever uncaffeinated nightmare you’re in right now is…” He shakes his head. “Too much for either of us, frankly.” Touya walks over, leaning close enough to brush his arm as he swipes a can of coffee from the fridge. He heads back to the seats across from the desk, then drops into one, setting down the water bottle from the front desk. He clicks the tab on the coffee, then drinks a long sip, leveling a glance at Hawks, who is–staring at him, unmoving, in front of the mini fridge.

Hawks… doesn’t drink coffee. 

Touya is just very distracting. 

He grabs a can of coffee anyway, and the box of wings, because he needs something to distract himself before he explodes. He sits down at the desk, popping the lid, and stabs one of the wings, throwing it into his mouth. “... So,” he says after a long moment. “You wanted to talk.” 

Touya levels him a long look, eyes narrowed. “Why do you think it’s your fault that I lit you on fire?” he settles on. 

Hawks tilts his head to the side. “I was fully aware of what your Quirk was, Comet. I was overzealous in my approach, and I got in the way. I should have been more careful.” 

Touya’s face twists in irritation. “I have a dangerous Quirk. I’m responsible for managing the field to make sure no one gets burned when I use it. You’re not responsible for evading friendly fire,” he says. 

“I’m one of the fastest heroes on the scene at the moment,” Hawks returns. “It’s actually my entire job to evade friendly fire and be aware of the battlefield. Look at it this way: I got distracted in the middle of the mission, and I didn’t die.” He leans forward, holding out a hand. “I didn’t even get permanently disfigured. My career didn’t even stutter, Comet. How many other heroes can say the same?” 

Touya looks away, his jaw tense, one hand mindlessly trailing across his right wrist. “... You didn’t get scarred?” he asks, voice quiet. 

Hawks pauses, brows raised. Was Touya–worried about that? Had he been worried about that? “You put me out almost immediately,” he says carefully, tilting his head. 

Touya’s gaze snaps back to him. “That’s not a ‘no,’” he says flatly. 

“No. I don’t have any scars from your fire,” he says, now that Touya is looking at him again. 

Touya’s shoulders–relax. It’s subtle, but the tension that’s sat in the middle of his shoulders since the mission where they first spoke finally releases, and some of the tightness in the corner of his eyes finally subsides. He nods once. 

“Alright,” he says, like he’s coming to a decision. “Who’s the interview with?” he asks. 

Hawks jerks to his feet, eyes wide. “You’ll do it?” he asks.

Touya stares at him pointedly. “I asked who the interview was with; I didn’t say I would do it.” 

“Right! Of course, yeah,” he says. “It’s with Sena Kinoshita,” he says. “For Hero Passion! magazine. They’re… pretty popular, so it’ll have a pretty wide reach,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

Touya’s face screws up at that, like he’s displeased. “And this would be a favor. To you,” he says, like he’s mulling it over. 

“A huge favor,” he confirms, flitting over to his side, grinning. “A huge huge huge favor, and I’d owe you a big favor that you could cash in for literally anything you wanted.” 

Touya waves his hand. “Honestly, I think it would repay your taking out…” He grimaces. “Bone Barrage when I couldn’t,” he says.

“Bone Barrage is such a stupid name,” Hawks says, snickering. 

“I would’ve been fine if I hadn’t stopped to laugh at him,” Touya admits with a groan, putting his face in his hands. “But come on, Bone Barrage? It sounds like a porn name,” he says, snorting. 

Hawks cackles. “Comet,” he says, equal parts scandalized and delighted. 

“I know, I know,” he says, waving a hand. “Alright. Fine. I’ll do it, and I’ll say you owe me a favor. Just to keep it interesting.” 

“It’s a photo shoot, too,” Hawks warns, just in case he forgot.

“I’m keeping my costume on,” Touya replies immediately. “Nothing comes off.” 

“I can make sure that’s part of the deal,” Hawks assures with a nod. 

“Good. Text me the details then,” he says. “I’ll be there.”

Chapter Text

Touya groans, his head planted on the low dining room table. 

“Are you dead?” Shouto asks flatly. 

“Yes,” he answers. 

“... Can you move, then? I have homework.” 

“There is literally so much space around me. You can sit literally anywhere else, brat,” Touya grouses, lifting his head to glare at him. 

“That’s my seat, though,” Shouto says, frowning. “I always do homework there.” 

And. Fair enough, Touya is particular about where he sits, too, so he sighs, rolling over to the cushion next to him like a salted slug. Shouto sits down, pulling out a book and a few papers to spread out across the table, squinting down at them. 

“Where are your glasses?” Touya asks. 

“... My room,” Shouto mutters. 

“Not doing you much good in there, are they?” he asks, cocking his head. 

Shouto huffs a sigh, pushing to his feet to go to his room. A year after he’d moved everyone out of Endeavor’s house, it quickly became clear that Shouto got lightning migraines almost every other week that he just… did nothing about. A few doctors’ visits and some prompting eventually showed that his left eye had a pretty severe lack of vision that Shouto had been pretty well ignoring on account of the whole ‘horrible trauma via tea kettle’ thing, but corrective lenses could assist to some degree. So. Glasses. Expensive ass glasses, that Shouto never wanted to keep on his goddamn face.  

Touya is really good at this ‘taking care of kids’ thing. 

He rolls over so he’s not staring at Shouto while he works when he comes back. He hears him settle back down behind him, and the rustling of papers. 

“What’s Fuyumi making for dinner tonight?” Shouto asks after a few minutes. 

“Not sure. Did you text her?” he asks. 

“No.” 

He hums. “Probably something you’ll eat. She only makes stuff you like,” he says. 

Shouto shifts, scribbling something out. “... Do you want to talk about whatever is wrong?” 

Touya tenses. “Nothing is wrong.” 

Shouto scribbles something else. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “So, you don’t want to talk about it.” 

… Sometimes he hates his siblings, actually. 

“I’m doing an interview with Hawks,” he says quickly, to rip off the bandaid. 

The pencil lead snaps against the paper, and there’s a long pause. “... Okay,” Shouto says slowly. He rummages in his bag for something, then there’s the sound of a pencil sharpener. “Why?” 

“I owe him,” he mumbles into the floor. 

“Okay,” Shouto says again–Touya thinks it’s a nervous habit, to just agree with anything he’s handed before he actually says what he wants to say. “... Why?” he asks again. 

Touya can’t spit it out. I set him on fire. I messed up and I set him on fire. I was so scared because I set someone on fire that I didn’t mean to–I never do that, I’m so careful, but he got in the way and I set him on fire. Shouto doesn’t need to know that his big brother failed in that way, that he can be as reckless as Endeavor, even if he had gotten lucky enough not to permanently scar Hawks. The only reason Touya can even stand to look at Hawks anymore is that he hadn’t permanently scarred him, but–

“I messed up,” he settles on. “I almost ruined a mission we were on. He called in a favor, and that’s what he picked.” 

Shouto scribbles something else, then taps his pencil, thinking. “Okay. So… what’s wrong?” he asks slowly. 

Touya rolls over to look at him incredulously. Shouto stares back at him blankly. 

“You’re a pro-hero. Interviews are part of it. You really should do more of them,” Shouto says flatly. “You’re being…” He pauses, his brows pinching together. “That’s probably rude, so I’m not going to say it.” 

Touya barks out a laugh. “You’re already halfway through it, brat. Spit it out.” 

Shouto shrugs. “You’re being unreasonable. And kind of stupid,” he says with remarkably little hesitation. Touya feels a little flash of pride that Shouto is able to be rude so freely. He never would have four years ago; the Shouto he pulled out of Endeavor’s house was silent, obedient, and terrified, even through flashes of anger that spilled out periodically from the injustice that he had faced. He never would have called an "authority figure" stupid. 

Touya snorts. “Brat,” he says again, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He drops back down on the floor. “Unreasonable, huh.” Maybe he is being a little unreasonable. He just–doesn’t want to be that hero.

“You act like an underground hero, but you’re working in agencies with limelight rankings and status. It’s not working, Touya,” Shouto says, running his hand through his hair. It’s grown–it’s shaggy and down to his shoulders now. He should probably get it cut, but he hasn’t asked to yet, so it can probably wait. Touya’s not going to force him if he doesn’t want to. “You picked being a limelight hero for a reason, even if I don’t know what it is. Commit to it. Stop holding yourself back.” He leans forward, scribbling another note on his homework. 

Touya sighs. He picked being a limelight hero, if he’s being honest, for the money. He needed the connections he could get immediately from his recognition, and he needed the money he could get from joining a recognized agency so he could get Shouto out as soon as possible. 

He couldn’t do that as an underground hero. 

“Commit to it,” he mumbles to himself quietly. “... Yeah, alright.” He rolls away from Shouto, closing his eyes. 

“If you’re going to sleep, you should go to your bed,” Shouto says, scribbling something on his homework. 

“M’not,” he replies blearily. 

He hears a buzz from Shouto’s phone, and then Shouto scrambles to grab it. 

Touya slowly looks over his shoulder, raising a brow. 

Shouto isn’t looking at him, staring at his phone, eyes slightly wide, his lips quirked in a very small smile as he taps out a quick response. He sets his phone down, eyes still on it. He doesn’t actually go back to his homework, even if he picks up his pencil like he’s going to. 

… Oh, no. 

Oh, no no no. 

He isn’t ready for Shouto to have a crush. He’s going to have to–talk about this, isn't he? Oh, crap. Is he going to have to–have a real talk with him about this? Like a feelings talk? 

Is it his job to have a safe sex talk with Shouto like a real, proper parent? 

Jesus Christ. 

He suddenly needs a drink. 

“... Who ya talkin’ to?” he asks, trying to be casual. Maybe he’s just overthinking it. Maybe it’s a friend. Shouto doesn’t have very many friends–any, really. He could just be excited about having friends, and Touya will also be excited for him to have friends. 

Shouto freezes, his face turning pink. 

Oh, goddammit. 

“I… met a friend,” he says slowly. “When I went out,” he says.

“... Uhuh,” Touya says. “A friend. Who’s this friend?” 

Shouto shifts. “His name is Midoriya,” he says. “He’s–cleaning up a beach. Dagoba. Training, he says.” 

“Training for what?” he prods.

“UA,” Shouto says, tapping his pencil nervously. His face is a little more pink. “... Why are you asking.” 

Touya sits up, turning to him. “Just curious about my li’l brother. Can’t I ask?” he says, smirking. He ruffles his hair. “Invite him over for dinner one day, if you want,” he offers. Give me time to figure out what the hell to do, he thinks miserably, because somehow the thought of navigating his brother’s dating life never actually occurred to him in the horrors of trying to save him from his father. He kind of thinks he’d rather deal with Enji. 

Shouto brightens slightly. “Can I?” he asks, leaning forward. 

“Yeah. Just ask ‘Yumi what day is good, so she can have enough food made,” he says. “What’s Midoriya like to eat?” 

“Katsudon,” Shouto answers immediately. 

Fuuuuuuck, he’s in deep already, Touya thinks. He hopes this Midoriya isn’t going to hurt him. Shouto’s had enough pain in his life. 

“... Yeah?” Touya asks, smiling. “You guys talk a lot?” 

“He texts,” Shouto says quietly. “He likes to text.” 

Touya nods. “Figure out when he’s free. We’ll make katsudon and have him over, then,” he says easily. 

He hears the door open, and Natsuo calls out. “Yo! I’m home!” 

“Hey, ‘Tsuo,” Touya calls lazily, pulling out his own phone. He opens his thread with Hawks. 

☄Comet ☄ - 16:22
My brother has a crush. Life is a nightmare.

Hawks - 16:22
oh how quickly they grow up
have you met the lucky gal? guy? kid?

☄Comet ☄ - 16:25
Not yet. Shou’s supposed to invite him over for dinner at some point. 

Hawks - 16:25
jealous! i wanna come over for dinner!
do i have to be a todoroki crush before i qualify for a dinner pass? 

☄Comet ☄ - 16:26
You can come for dinner when we’re friends.

Hawks - 16:26
when do you want me, then? ;) 

☄Comet ☄ - 16:27
I said when we’re friends.

Hawks - 16:27
ouch

“Who are you texting?” Shouto asks, tilting his head. 

“Hawks,” Touya says, rolling his eyes. He flips his phone shut, setting it down. 

“... When is he coming to dinner?” Shouto asks curiously. 

Natsuo blinks, pausing. He’s halfway through settling in at the table across from Shouto, his own homework spread out. “... Is Hawks coming to dinner? Why is Hawks coming to dinner?” 

“He’s not,” Touya says flatly. “Shouto’s new friend is.” 

“You have a new friend?” Natsuo asks, looking at Shouto. 

“If my friend is coming to dinner, your friend should come, too,” Shouto argues.

“You’re friends with Hawks?” Natsuo asks, looking at Touya. 

“I’m not friends with Hawks,” Touya says to both of them firmly. “I owe him a favor.”

The door opens again; it’s roughly afternoon, so he’s not surprised when he hears Fuyumi. 

“I’m home!” 

“Welcome home, ‘Yumi!” Natsuo calls. 

“Welcome home,” Shouto says quietly. 

Touya waves. 

“Touya and Shouto have new friends,” Natsuo says, smirking. 

Fuyumi blinks, halfway through pulling off her shoes. “Oh?” she asks, tilting her head. 

“I do not,” Touya snaps. 

“Touya said we could have him over for dinner at some point…?” Shouto says slowly, not looking up from his homework. 

Fuyumi kicks off her other shoe and comes over to the table, sitting down. “Of course, we can! What does he like? When is he free? Does he have any allergies? We’ll need his guardians’ information… Do you just want him over for dinner, or do you want him to stay the night?” she asks, tilting her head thoughtfully. 

Shouto stares at her, eyes wide. “... He could–he could stay over? Like a sleepover?” he asks, voice barely over a whisper. 

Touya’s heart clenches. None of them ever had sleepovers. It wasn’t allowed at Endeavor’s house, and they’re all trying to be very casual about this for Shouto, but he knows Shouto is–floored at the idea. 

“Yeah, kid. Whatever you want. As long as his guardians don’t mind,” Touya says. “I’ll have to talk to them first, but if they don’t care, I don’t,” Touya says, shrugging. 

“Why don’t you come help me with dinner and tell me about him?” Fuyumi suggests. Shouto nods, hopping to his feet to follow her into the kitchen. Touya slumps against the table when they’re out of earshot, running a hand over his face. 

“... ‘Tsuo, I think he has a crush on that kid,” he mumbles. 

Natsuo laughs. “Oh, no,” he says. 

“I know,” he groans, putting his head down. “I was hoping to not have to deal with that ‘til he was in high school. Or maybe never, actually.” 

“Not like you ever had to deal with it,” Natsuo says lightly. 

Touya glares at him. “I had crushes,” he objects quietly. 

“No, you didn’t,” Natsuo replies, snorting. “You had obsessions. And you only had one.” 

Touya waves his hand. “Semantics.” 

“Hopefully Shouto is a little more normal about it,” Natsuo muses. “You were… a little intense,” he says. 

Touya rolls his eyes. “Tenko was a one-off. I don’t think anyone could have prepared for that.” 

“That’s… Yeah, alright, that’s fair. There’s not really a rulebook for ‘what to do when your highschool sweetheart fucks off to become a vigilante,’” Natsuo says, shrugging. 

Touya scrunches up his nose, his face screwing up at the memory of Tenko’s bright red eyes, his pale blue hair, the night he’d told him he was leaving Shiketsu to prove them all wrong. 

“No,” he murmurs. “No, there’s not.” 

Natsuo reaches out, patting his hand. “Sorry,” he says quietly. 

“S’fine,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s probably better that I don’t. Have crushes, you know. I’m bad luck,” he says, frowning at the table. 

“You’re not,” Natsuo says, frowning. “You deserve to be happy, Touya.” 

“I’m plenty happy,” he argues. “I’ve got you guys.” He leans on his hand. “I’m a hero. I’m not even bad at it. What else is there to want?” 

Natsuo narrows his eyes. “You’re allowed to want things for yourself, you know?” he asks. “Everything you want, you want for us. What do you want for you, Touya?” 

Touya laughs. “Everything I’ve ever wanted for me is bad for me, ‘Tsuo. Don’t ask me that,” he says, grinning lazily. “The only thing I ever wanted for me was Dad’s approval, and then, barring that, to burn our father. Then Tenko. Dad’s approval definitely would have killed me. Destroying Dad probably would have killed me. And Tenko…” He shrugs. “Probably would’ve killed me, too. I don’t think either of us were stable enough for each other.” 

Natsuo’s face twists in dissatisfaction. “That can’t be all.” 

“Can’t it?” Touya asks. “Maybe I’m just not that great of a person naturally, ‘Tsuo. Maybe I’m only a good person if I work at it.” He shrugs. “That’s probably alright, too, right? I think that’s probably fine. I’m happy enough with it. I’m happy seeing Shouto… happy. I’m happy seeing you succeed at shit. I’m happy seeing Fuyumi not terrified anymore. I can’t watch Endeavor scream, but I can watch you guys thrive. That’s… enough, I guess,” he says. 

Natsuo’s face is still tight with worry. Touya sighs.

“Look, really. It’s fine. I’m happy. Genuinely.” He pats his hand. “I’m fine.” 

His phone buzzes again, and he glances at it. 

Hawks is calling . . . 

“One sec. He’s trying to set up this interview thing, I’ve got to take this,” he says, picking up the phone and stepping out back with it. He clicks the green button. “Hawks?” he asks. 

“Hey, Comet!” Hawks chirps. “I know you don’t like texting, and it’s a fair bit of info to unload, so I figured I’d call. Is it a good time?” he asks. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Go ahead.” 

“Great! So, Kinoshita had pretty much everything set up and was just waiting for the go ahead, so it’s tomorrow? Is that too sudden? It would be tomorrow at four, if you’re free, and would last until about eight,” Hawks says nervously. 

“Four hours?” Touya asks, incredulous. 

“Well, it’s–it’s an interview and a photoshoot,” Hawks says quickly. “So they’ll have us in makeup first, and that takes about thirty minutes. And then we’ll do the interview, and that takes about an hour. And then we’ll take a thirty minute break. And then make up again. And then the photoshoot is usually about an hour, but it can take a little longer, so…” 

Touya pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling noisily. “I’ll let Gunhead know,” he says. He’d told Gunhead he would need time off at some point soon for this, and the man had been overly enthusiastic at the concept of his using time for a public appearance, so getting the time won’t be a problem. “Where are we meeting?” 

“You can meet me at my agency at three thirty? Or I can meet you at Gunhead’s? We can head over together,” Hawks offers quickly. 

“I’ll meet you at yours,” Touya says easily. 

Shouto pokes his head out the back door. “Touya, dinner is ready,” he says. 

“Oh! Is that Shouto? He sounds so sweet!” Hawks exclaims. 

Shouto blinks. “... Is that Hawks?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“... Yes, that’s Shouto. Yes, that’s Hawks,” he answers both of them. He clicks the speaker button on a whim. “Say hi, Hawks.” 

“Hi, Hawks,” Shouto says. 

Hawks makes an actual cooing sound. “Hi, Tiny Todoroki!” Hawks chirps. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You, too. You should come to dinner some time,” Shouto says, like a goddamn traitor. 

“Oh?” Hawks asks, suddenly sounding a lot less cute and a lot more like a predator. “Touya said I wasn’t invited! He said only friends were invited.” Touya can hear the pout. 

“You’re friends with Touya, so you should come. I’ll ask Fuyumi when a good time is,” he says simply, turning to go back into the house.

“Brat, don’t just–” Touya starts, but Shouto just closes the door on him. Touya knocks the phone against his forehead. “... He’s… a handful,” he mutters. 

Hawks laughs brightly. “I like him. He’s nice.” 

“Are you implying I’m not nice?” he grouses. 

“Oh, look at the time! I’m a very busy bird, you know, I simply must be going… Bye, Comet!” Hawks says, laughing.

Touya snorts. “Bye, birdie,” he says, hanging up. 

Hawks doesn’t really know what he expects. 

Maybe he expects Touya to just stand him up and not show up at all. Maybe he expects Touya to show up and tell him he’s changed his mind and he doesn’t want to do this after all. 

He doesn’t expect Touya to show up ten minutes early in a freshly cleaned costume, his hair swept back from his face, wearing different piercings than usual in his ears. 

Normally he just wears studs, something flat and practical that won’t get snagged. Right now, though, his ears have all six piercings in: he has a tragus, a rook, two in his lobes, and two at the top of his cartilage. He has a thick hammered black metal cuff in the cartilage linked to a chain that loops through the two holes in his lobes, dangling a small spike. His tragus has a small coffin in it, and then the rook has a small sapphire on each end. His nose has a small set of three piercings, too. Hawks spots him from across the room, talking to Rhythmic again. 

Rhythmic is short and earnest, with honey blonde hair and hazel eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his face, with a costume that’s all soft greens and browns, lined with musical notes. He can hear Rhythmic talking to Touya. “I spoke with Awata,” he says, bouncing on his heels. “He was really helpful. I think we have something planned out.” 

“That’s great,” he says, his voice flat, even though his face looks faintly pleased. 

Rhythmic seems to notice, too, because he preens. “Yeah! He’s really nice, too!” he says, leaning forward. 

Hawks feels a pulse of–annoyance. He doesn’t like the way Rhythmic is staring at Touya with stars in his eyes, like he hung the moon. Touya is wonderful, but for some reason he… doesn’t want anyone else to see that. He wants everyone to know that, because Touya deserves to have everyone to know how amazing he is, but he doesn’t want anyone to look at Touya like that, at the same time. 

That’s… confusing. 

Hawks flits over. “Comet!” he calls, grinning. “You’re early.” 

Rhythmic glances over at him. “Hawks, hey,” he says, leaning back, more subdued. “Comet gave me the name of a great support dev; I should have some new gear in the next few weeks,” he says, rocking back on his heels with a smile, glancing back at Touya. 

Touya’s lips twitch. “He knows. I already yelled at him for neglecting getting you a better tech,” he says with a snort, giving Hawks a sardonic look. 

Hawks laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, sorry! I got a lot going on, y’know? I’m a busy man!” 

“Should probably delegate some of your interns,” Touya muses, leaning back against the wall. “You do seem pretty busy, birdie.” 

There’s that nickname again. Birdie. Hawks’ heart stutters, and he smiles, hoping he doesn’t look like a dazed fool. “Maybe,” he offers. “I’ll look into it. Speaking of busy, though, we have an interview to get to,” he says. 

Rhythmic blinks. “You’re doing an interview?” he asks, looking at Touya. 

Touya grimaces. “Unfortunately.” 

“I haven’t seen any Comet interviews,” Rhythmic says, looking surprised. “Where’s it going to be? I’ll have to buy it.” 

Touya blinks. “Why would you do that? Hawks is going to be in it. He’ll probably have a few copies here for free, won’t he?” he asks, looking at Hawks. 

Hawks laughs. “Probably. It’ll be in Hero Passion! magazine,” he says. “We have those in the waiting room, so it’ll be here.” 

“I’ll definitely buy a copy anyway,” Rhythmic says, undeterred. “You hardly have any merch–I went looking, you know,” he says. “There’s almost nothing!” 

“I don’t… make very many brand deals,” Touya mumbles, turning slightly pink. “There are a few fan knock offs, and those are pretty… cool, I guess. And then the Top 50 Figures, because I couldn’t really get out of that one,” he says, grimacing. 

“I saw that,” Hawks comments, failing to mention that he has the action figure in his apartment, on his shelf. 

“... We should really get going,” Touya says, looking away, his face flushing a darker pink. 

Hawks grins. “Okay, let’s fly, then,” he says, tilting his head. 

Touya waves to Rhythmic, following Hawks out. “... So. Where’s your car?” he asks, looking around belatedly. “Or is it close enough to walk?” 

Hawks glances at him, blinking. “Technically, I said I would take you over, not that we were driving or walking,” Hawks says, a slow grin on his face as he realizes Touya doesn’t realize what he meant. He flares his wings out, offering his hands. “Your pilot is in, please keep your hands and feet in the cabin at all times.” 

Touya pales slightly, which is impressive, considering how pale he is already. 

“No. Absolutely not. I’ll get a taxi. Or a car. Or–or I can walk. I’ll meet you there,” he says. 

Hawks blinks, slightly thrown by the outright refusal. “We won’t make it in time if we drive,” he points out. The interview is in about twenty-five minutes at this point, and the building is across the city. It’s a forty minute drive with late afternoon traffic, but if he flies, they’ll be there in fifteen. 

“That’s unfortunate. I guess we’ll have to cancel. So sorry,” Touya says, his voice cracking slightly, shaking his head. 

“It’s not so bad, really–most people want to fly, you know,” Hawks says, following him forward as he steps away like a startled rabbit. “Really, everyone always asks me for a ride. You should feel honored, actually,” he presses. He’s hoping Touya will snap at him and tell him why he’s really saying no. Maybe he’s just worried about being held the whole time? If it’s a manly pride thing, Hawks gives less than zero fucks about that–he’ll just scoop Touya up and go. He’ll get over that. 

“Everyone else can feel really honored that I’m giving them my space, then. Go let them do it,” he says, glaring. 

“Are you worried I’m gonna drop you? I’m not gonna drop you. I’ve literally never dropped anyone,” he tries. He hasn’t. He’s never even come close to dropping anyone, not with his arms nor his feathers. 

Touya seizes that with both hands, almost entirely confirming that that’s not what he’s worried about at all. 

“Yep. That’s it. You’re gonna drop me, and I’m going to be fucking Comet jam. Not happening. Absolutely not,” he says immediately. 

“Liar,” Hawks replies. “If you won’t tell me, then I guess we’re juuuustt…” He whistles innocently, looking away like he’s going to let it go. “... Going anyway.” Then he leaps forward, kicking off of the ground and swooping up Touya in the same motion, his wings snapping out to catch the air. 

“HAWKS!” Touya shrieks, his arms seizing at his shoulders, burying his face in his neck.

Oops. He’s–probably afraid of heights, actually, Hawks realizes, as he gets into the air. He’ll get the flight over with quickly, and then–maybe try a lower, slower flight later. Ease him into it next time. “It’s okay! I got you, we’re fine!” He rubs soothing circles into his back, holding onto him tightly. Touya doesn’t seem to hear him, his face still hidden, his breath uneven against his neck. 

“It’ll probably help if you–look, if you’re nauseous,” he offers. 

Touya doesn’t answer, still, and Hawks isn’t sure if he can hear him at all. He speeds up, set on finishing the flight as quickly as possible. He clears the distance in about twelve minutes, landing gently. Touya doesn’t move, like he doesn’t even notice he’s not flying anymore. He shifts him gently, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on his shoulder blade. “Comet?” he asks quietly. “You with me?” 

Touya tenses up, then looks up at him, his face pale, his bright blue eyes inches away, his breath shaky. His face is so close, inches away because of the way he was buried into his neck, and Hawks–

Hawks realizes, even now, even pale, slightly sick-looking, that Touya is beautiful. He’s so close, and Hawks–wants.

Touya shoves off from his chest, hard, and Hawks drops him on instinct, letting him fall. Touya falls, awkwardly landing in a weird half-crouch, covering his mouth like he’s about to throw up, and he stows all of that because wow it’s not the time for earth-shattering revelations when Touya is probably about to hurl. 

“... Ah,” Hawks says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not the best flier, huh? Sorry. Probably should have asked first, huh?” he asks nervously. 

Touya glares at him balefully, taking slow, exaggerated breaths through his nose. He holds his hand away from himself, lighting his hand on fire in a flash of bright blue that startles Hawks–it seems unusually hot, and Touya winces, but his eyes seem more focused afterwards. He digs in his pocket, picking out a white pill, sticking it under his tongue. 

“You. Are. The. Worst,” Touya bites out. 

“... Did you just light yourself on fire so you wouldn’t be nauseated anymore?” Hawks asks, staring at him in alarm. 

“No. I took a pill for that,” he mutters. He looks at the building they’re in front of. It’s a business building with several floors, with a large sign at the top that says HP! “Is this where we’re going?” he asks, jabbing his hand toward it. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says. 

Touya stalks over, opening the front door and gesturing Hawks through irritably. “Go on. Let’s get this over with, then. I’m walking home, for the record.” 

“Do you even know where we are?” Hawks asks, amused. 

“I’ll figure it out. I’ve looked at maps of all of the districts around here,” he says, waving his hands dismissively. “If I can find a street name, I can find my way home.” 

“That kind of competence is pretty cool,” he compliments, and he means it. Competence has always done it for him, and Touya's is exceptional. He walks in, flitting over to the front desk. “Gooood afternoon! I’m here for my interview with Miss Kinoshita. I brought Pro-Hero Comet with me,” he says, tilting his head to Touya. Touya steps up next to him, leaning against the counter. 

“Afternoon,” the man at the desk says, grabbing a tray for their IDs. Touya glances at his nametag, then away. Hawks side-eyes him. He does that–always looking at nametags. Touya said he can remember anything he looks at; does he just memorize everyone’s name on purpose? Is it just good sense, just in case he needs to know their names in an emergency? Does he do it just to be nice? 

“Afternoon,” Touya mumbles. 

“IDs, please?” he asks. 

Hawks digs around in his pockets for a few moments until he grabs his ID, tossing it onto the tray. Touya puts his in as well. Hawks looks over Touya’s ID curiously. It denotes him as Touya Todoroki, twenty-two, hero name Comet, 176 cm tall, birthday January 18th. 

All good information to have. 

He glances over at Touya, who is looking at Hawks’ ID. He arches a brow, wondering what he thinks of the information on his own ID, or the lack thereof. He knows his ID is missing something important–primarily his name. The Commission erased every piece of Keigo Takami from existence; no one knows about him. He’s only Hawks as far as the world is concerned. He remembers Keigo Takami–has never been able to forget Keigo Takami. 

Touya glances over, and his brows raise when their gazes meet. “... You’re only 172 centimeters tall?” he asks, avoiding the question of his name entirely. “Your wings really do make you seem taller.” 

Hawks laughs, putting his hands behind his head in an easy-going manner. If they’re going to leave it, then he can play along. “Well, yeah. They’re about as tall as I am. Kind of makes me a presence. We can’t all be thirty meters of leg, can we?” he asks, looking Touya over conspicuously. 

Touya frowns, looking down at his legs like he thinks that’s a bad thing, and Hawks doesn’t get a chance to correct him before the secretary is pushing their IDs back. 

“Here are your IDs and your visitor passes. Please wear these at all times inside,” he says.

“Thanks,” Hawks says, taking his ID and badge. He tucks away the ID, hooking the badge to his belt. Touya does the same, hooking the badge to one of the pockets on his coat. 

“You’ll head over to the elevator, then up to floor twenty-one. Room thirty-two is make-up, and they’ll direct you from there,” he says. 

Touya grimaces, and Hawks nods, following him over to the elevator. He notices that Touya holds his hand over the elevator door so it doesn’t slide shut on him, and that sends his heart fluttering again, even if it’s just courtesy. He steps in, and Touya clicks the button for twenty-one. Hawks basks in the bonfire scent that clouds the elevator almost immediately again, making sure to not stare at Touya this time. 

“... So. Kinoshita. Have you interviewed with her before?” Touya asks, arms crossed. 

“For sure,” Hawks answers. “She’s a favorite of mine, but she can be a little tricky,” he says. “She doesn’t always ask what she means.” 

Touya’s brows pinch together. “What exactly does that mean?” he asks. 

“It means if I redirect her, go with me on it. She’s prying, and you probably shouldn’t answer her,” he says, leaning against the wall. He closes his eyes, inhaling the bonfire scent. He’s–tired, actually. He was nervous about this interview, and he didn’t really get much sleep. He wonders if Touya was nervous at all. 

“What would she pry about?” Touya asks. 

“On you? Any number of things. This is your first proper interview since you broke the top hundred, let alone the top fifty. No one knows anything about you. She could ask about your personal life, your family, your past, your dating life, anything, really,” he says, not opening his eyes. “I’ll keep her on topic. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” 

Touya huffs. “None of that is important,” he says, irritated. The door dings as it opens, and Hawks opens his eyes to follow him out. “At least, it shouldn’t be. It has very little bearing on what kind of hero I am.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Hawks says. “People like to know these things, and what heroes do in their personal life can say a lot about who they are as heroes,” he says, shrugging. “C’mon, I think it’s right over here…” 

He pauses, squinting at the room numbers. A few people are milling about, but no one seems to be looking at them in particular until–

“Hawks! Darling!” someone shouts. 

Hawks sees Sena Kinoshita walk over quickly, grinning a thousand-watt smile. She’s a tall, statuesque blonde woman with glowing green eyes and a speaker embedded into her arm that can record and play at will; he knows better than to assume that anything is off the record with her. 

He breaks into his own thousand-watt Hawks™ smile. “Miss Kinoshita, hello, love!” he says, flitting over to her. Everyone loves to see him use the wings, so he does, often. She laughs, taking his hand in hers. 

“Hello, hello! And who is this beauty you’ve brought me?” she asks, turning her bright eyes to Touya, who followed at a much slower pace. He’s slouched, looking around with a comically irritable expression. 

“Comet,” he says flatly. “Good to meet you.” He doesn’t offer his hand. 

Hawks is so delighted by everything Touya does, and this is no different. His distaste for Kinoshita is etched into his face so clearly it might as well be a flashing sign; he doesn’t like her grin because it’s fake, Hawks realizes right away. 

Hawks turns on the charm. “Right off the street, would you believe it? He was patrolling nearby, so I figured I’d grab him on the way over,” he says with a little laugh, obviously teasing. 

Kinoshita grins, gesturing for them to follow her into the makeup room. She sits down in a chair with her name on it, and then gestures Hawks down into one chair, and Touya down into another. Touya reluctantly goes, and Hawks sits awkwardly sideways, draping his wings over the arm like he usually does, tipping his head up toward the makeup artist. 

Touya frowns at him for a moment, then stands back up, walking over to one of the makeup techs, murmuring to them for a moment. 

Kinoshita distracts him before he can ask what he’s doing. “How long have you two been working near each other?” she asks as her makeup artist starts working on her face. 

“Oh, a few months,” Hawks answers easily, tipping his head back as the artist starts applying powder to his face. The artist pauses, leaning back, and Hawks glances over as Touya taps his shoulder. 

“Get up for a sec,” he mutters. 

Hawks stands obligingly, blinking as Touya drags his chair out of the way, then pulls over a stool that’s the same height. He folds up the makeup chair, sets it against the table, then goes and sits down in his chair like he didn’t do anything. 

Hawks stares at it silently, not blinking.

Touya swapped his chair out. 

Because his chair had a back, and it wouldn’t accommodate his wings. 

Touya realized that and bothered someone for another chair, then went and got that chair, and then swapped it out. And then didn’t even expect to be thanked. Didn’t even seem to want to be thanked with how fast he went back to his chair. 

That knowledge drips into his mind, slowly, uncertainly. 

He looks up at Touya slowly, who isn’t even looking at him, instead has his head tipped back with a grimace, getting an almost translucent powder dusted across his face. 

“Hawks?” his makeup artist asks quietly. “Are you ready?” 

He nods, sitting down. “Yeah–sorry. I’m ready,” he says, turning to her. 

“So, Comet!” Kinoshita asks as they move onto her eyes. “You work for Gunhead right now, right?” she asks. 

Touya hums in acknowledgement. 

“Annnnd? How is that? How do you like Gunhead?” she prods. 

Touya pauses for a long moment, like he’s considering his answer carefully. “Gunhead is an exemplary hero. His agency is well-run,” he replies flatly. 

“Lovely,” she says, sounding pleased. “Love to hear about heroes working well together! That is the theme of the night, after all. Have you worked for any other heroes?” she asks. 

“A few,” he replies.

“Which ones?” she asks curiously. 

“Takeshita. Majestic. Manual,” he rattles off. 

“Oooh, and how were they? How would you say they compare to each other?” she asks. 

Touya pauses again, as if considering the pitfalls of the question. “They were all very kind,” he says carefully. “Majestic was perhaps the best in running stealth missions. Manual was, as you would expect, more geared toward rescue missions and damage control. He also taught me much about working with others. Takeshita worked in a much smaller district; it was good to work in an area where you were familiar with everyone you protected,” he muses. “It reminded me of my internships.” 

Hawks’ interest is peaked. “I read an article about one of your internships, actually. Your debut,” he admits.

Touya hums. “The firebreak in Coruscant?” he asks, sounding curious and, Hawks thinks, slightly pleased. “I remember the journalist that was there. He had a camera Quirk–he could summon them anywhere on his body. He was taking pictures of everything. He had a very strong sense of journalistic pride. I liked him. Tokuda, I think his name was,” he says. 

Kinoshita makes a noise of recognition. “I know Tokuda. He works over with Juzo a lot,” she says. “He’s quite good. I don’t think I’ve heard of your debut–enlighten me!” she says. 

“It wasn’t anything special. A mistake, really,” Touya murmurs. “Some teenagers playing with fireworks during the dry season, not paying attention to warnings. I took on internships in remote areas that didn’t technically have agencies; instead they had one or two heroes, and then they had emergency services. On Coruscant, it was one hero named Blink who had a teleport Quirk that they would use primarily for rescues, and then their fire department that I worked with the most.” Touya tilts his head, closing his eyes as the artist starts lining his eyes in something dark and smoky, and Hawks’ mouth goes dry. 

“The teens ignored all of the dry tinder warnings and set off some bottle rockets. It set off the brush, and kicked up a pretty big wild-fire. The town sat right up next to a pretty large forest, so obviously, that wasn’t great,” he says flatly. “I got called in because I had fairly decent control of my fire, so I was able to control where I set a firebreak better than they could; I could manage it and tend to it more directly. So I did that. It burned for…” He hums, like he’s thinking. “I guess around twenty-nine hours? Not very long. I only had to tend it for about that long.” 

“How old were you?” Kinoshita asks, her voice awed. 

“Ah, it was January during the internship, so I turned seventeen just before it, I think,” he says thoughtfully. 

A long pause. 

“... Can I open my eyes, or are you still working?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Sorry!” his makeup artist says. “I’m still working.” 

“No worries,” he replies. 

Hawks huffs a laugh. “You’re pretty cool, Comet,” he says. 

“Agreed,” Kinoshita says. 

“I’m not,” he answers flatly. “I was just doing what was needed.” 

“I saw the pictures,” Hawks says, grinning. “I’m gonna disagree and say you were cool,” he says. 

Touya makes a small noise of discontent. “Do what you want,” he mutters. 

Kinoshita laughs. “He’s adorable,” she stage-whispers. 

“I know,” he agrees. 

Touya resolutely does not answer. 

A few moments later, their make up is finished. They didn’t do much for him–they usually don’t. Just enough to make him show up on camera properly without being shiny. Touya, however, they apparently decided to have fun with. He’s got some sort of liner around his eyes, and a smudge of dark shadow around his eyes that makes his burning blue gaze almost hypnotic.

Touya glances in the mirror for just a second. 

“Is it okay?” his makeup artist asks him nervously. “I–it seemed to go with your aesthetic pretty well.” 

He shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says in the same flat tone he says everything. Her shoulders hunch slightly, and he flicks his gaze to her, frowning slightly. “It looks good,” he tries again.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling slightly, like she suddenly understands that he’s not being–intentionally flat or uncaring. 

Touya nods, standing up, and because of his height, he towers over her. She flushes, looking down at her supplies, gathering them together. He doesn’t even seem to notice, focusing his gaze over at Hawks. He arches a brow. 

“Thoughts, Birdie?” he asks. 

Oh, does he have thoughts. 

“Looks good,” he manages, throwing a little thumbs up. 

Touya nods, turning to Kinoshita. “Where to next?” he asks. 

Kinoshita ushers them off toward the interview room. The camera crew is small, and the producer meets them as well, to go over how it’s going to go. It’s not a live interview; they’ll talk for an hour, and they’ll edit out a few parts and probably cut it down to about thirty to forty-five minutes depending on how much usable footage they can get, and then they’ll publish some of the usable quotes in the magazine alongside the pictures they get from the photoshoot. The video will go on the website. 

It’s pretty standard, but Touya looks–vaguely overwhelmed. 

Hawks squeezes his arm. “Just sit down and answer questions. Super easy,” he translates. 

Touya nods. “I can do that,” he says firmly. 

They take a seat next to each other on a small white couch. Again, Hawks has to kind of–perch on the edge and hang his wings off the edge, awkwardly hanging his feet off of the cushion so they’re not on the couch. Touya frowns. 

“Can we bring over one of those?” he asks, pointing at one of the rounded, tasteful foot rests that are off to the side. One of the producer assistants drags it over to Touya, and he pushes it over toward Hawks. “Sit there,” he says, pointing. 

Hawks stares at him. “... You don’t have to–do that,” he says, even as he moves over to sit on it, letting his wings hang off of the back of it. 

“You should do it yourself,” Touya says firmly. “If people are going to invite you somewhere, they should plan to have somewhere for you to sit where you’re not crushing your wings,” he says irritably. 

Kinoshita blinks, looking at the couch, then back to Hawks, as if suddenly realizing what Touya realized immediately. “Oh! Hawks, I’m so sorry–I didn’t even realize!” she says. 

“It’s fine! No worries at all–I didn’t say anything,” he says quickly. “It’s no big deal–no one thinks about it.” 

Except for Touya, apparently. 

Touya’s face twists in irritation again, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“We’ll make sure we have better accommodations next time,” she says quickly, waving her hands. 

Touya nods once. “Please do,” he says, leaning his chin on his hand. 

Hawks laughs incredulously. “Thank you, Kinoshita–that’s very kind,” he amends. 

Kinoshita laughs, too. “You have a very kind friend, Hawks,” she says. 

“We’re not friends,” Touya replies flatly, waving his hand. 

Hawks laughs. “Agree to disagree.” 

“Let’s go ahead and get started, shall we?” she asks, her grin widening. 

They settle into their seats, and then the camera starts with a countdown. 

“Hello! This is Hero Passion! and I’m your host, Sena Kinoshita! Tonight I have two very special guests–one you’ll all know and remember from several interviews in the past, the current number six hero, The Wing Hero: Hawks!” The camera pans to him, and he grins, waving. 

“We also have someone you may not recognize; he’s in the top fifty, but he’s been a bit of a recluse. It’s his first interview with us, the number forty-nine hero, The Immolation Hero: Comet!” The camera pans to Touya, who nods once. 

Kinoshita grins. “Welcome on, you two. Today, the name of the game is teamwork and teamups, so most of the questions I have are going to be regarding that, but before we dive into those, I do have a few specialized questions for Comet, since this is the first time you’re on our show, if you don’t mind?” she asks. 

Touya inclines his head. “Go on.” 

“Great! First off, can you tell us a little bit about your Quirk for those who aren’t familiar?” 

Touya nods. “It’s called Blueflame. It’s fairly self-explanatory,” he says. He clicks his fingers, a spark of blue fire appearing on the tip of his finger. He clicks his fingers again, the flames vanishing. 

“Did you ever struggle to become a hero with a flame Quirk?” she asks, tilting her head. “Some heroes claim fire Quirks make it more difficult to break into the hero community, since they can be quite destructive.” 

Touya tilts his head.  “Fire is a tool like any other. It can be quite destructive, yes, but it can also be very useful when applied properly. If you look up my stats for property destruction during rescues, villain takedowns, and petty arrests, they’re among the lowest of all of the heroes in the district, even among heroes with so-called ‘non destructive’ Quirks. Learning control is vital. Do so, and don’t blame others for your lack of it,” he says flatly. 

Kinoshita blinks, then laughs. “You’re very straight-forward, Comet!” she says, sounding delighted. 

Hawks privately agrees–he very likely just made a number of heroes dislike him with that statement alone, although, on the other hand, he probably gave a number of hero-hopefuls with fire Quirks a lot of hope. 

Touya shrugs. “There’s not really much point to beating around the bush, is there?” he asks. “I’m not very good at it, anyway–everyone already seems to think I mean something else when I say what I mean already–if I tried to be duplicitous, I shudder to think how it would go,” he says, frowning. 

Hawks laughs. “It’s because you’re bad at putting tone in your words, Comet! Try smiling sometimes,” he teases lightly. 

Touya stares at him blankly. “... I don’t think my face does that,” he says flatly, in a way that Hawks realizes is a joke. 

Hawks cackles, and Kinoshita laughs. Touya’s lips twitch upwards slightly. 

Kinoshita leans forward for her next question. “Is that the reason you’ve avoided interviews up until this point?” she asks. 

Touya shifts. “Not necessarily, although I am particularly bad at them,” he muses. “I rarely had a chance to interact with the media as Comet, you know. When I did interact with the media, it was as Endeavor’s son, and I was… less enthused to do so in that regard. I never intended to put off doing so for so long, but Hawks requested a favor, so… here I am,” he explains slowly. 

Hawks sees Kinoshita latch onto that and knows what question is coming before she says it. 

“Oh! Is it a sore spot, then, being Endeavor’s son in the spotlight?” she asks. 

Hawks is about to intervene, but Touya just tips his head to the side and coolly says, “Next question.” 

Hawks blinks. What? He’s never–he’s never done that in an interview in his life. He always has to simper and distract and practically throw smoke bombs to adjust to the next question and Touya seems–wholly unbothered to just… shut it down and move on. 

“Ah? I just–” she starts, like she’s confused, too. Hawks gears up to assist again, but Touya doesn’t even glance at him. 

“I’d prefer not to answer any questions about Endeavor. Next question, if you please,” he says, voice cool, but not rude. 

It’s–perfectly professional, cool, and casual. Hawks is floored. Can you just do that? 

“Right! Let’s–hop over to Hawks for a moment, then!” Kinoshita says, seeming slightly flustered. “How are you feeling about your leap into the top ten?” she asks, seeming like she’s struggling to get back on stable ground. 

Hawks understands the feeling. 

Hawks laughs. “Pretty wild. Frankly, I’m one to prefer hanging out in the lower ranks, so jumping up so high is… a bit of a pain to be honest! But I’m up here, so I’ll do my best to make everyone proud.”

Hawks feels Touya’s gaze land on him, heavy and irritated. He glances over, and his blue eyes are burning. 

“So, Comet! How do you feel about your current standing on the board?” she asks, sensing the tension and jumping on it. 

“According to Hawks, it’s the best place to be,” he replies flatly, his voice just a touch sharp. 

Hawks stares at him, unsure what he said wrong; he hadn’t gotten the impression that Touya was angling for the top spots on the board, frankly, or that he really cared about the whole rat race. Maybe that was a mistake. 

“I’m fine with my ranking,” he says thoughtfully after a moment. “It’s primarily lower because of my lack of public appearances. I don’t model, do excessive interviews, or sell anything beyond the required merchandise. I patrol, I capture criminals, and I do my job. My rank comes from my community service, my work in my prefecture, and the people I’ve saved. I can be proud of that, so I am,” he says. He pulls his leg up onto the couch, lazily balancing his arm on it to rest his chin atop it. 

“Community service?” Kinoshita prods. 

Touya grimaces. “Next question,” he tries. 

“No, I’m curious, too,” Hawks says, leaning forward. 

Touya sighs. “It’s self explanatory, isn’t it? I do service for the community I’m in–I work at shelters, clean up beaches, assist with post-villain attack clean-ups, whatever needs doing whenever I have free time. There are sign-up sheets at all of the agencies I work at, as well as online. Anyone can do it–probably should, if they’re able and available, frankly,” he mutters. “What else am I going to do with my time off?” 

Hawks grins. “Sleep? Watch TV? Read a book? Go on dates?” Hawks asks. 

Touya shakes his head. “Boring.” 

Kinoshita laughs. “You’re an interesting one, Comet! Hawks does bring up a fun point, though–do you go on dates?” she asks, grinning. 

Touya’s eyes narrow. “I’m not sure how that’s relevant to my heroics,” he says flatly. 

Hawks really wants to know the answer, though. 

“Call it bonding!” Kinoshita says, her grin widening. “We’re getting to know you a little, learning about you,” she presses. 

Touya tilts his head, like he’s considering the best way to answer, and Hawks remembers his promise to redirect her if she presses too hard.

“I think his dating life can be his business, Kinoshita,” he razzes lightly. “Let’s get to the teamwork, yeah?” 

“Okay, okay!” she says, laughing. “But a lot of viewers are going to want to know the answer to that question!” she warns. “Comet, you’ve got flames. How do you navigate working in a team with your Quirk? How do you plan combat with that in mind?” she asks. 

Touya hums. “Knowing who’s present is half the battle. Who’s on site, what Quirks do they have, and how do they pair with yours? If you don’t know, how can you find out quickly? What resources do you have at your disposal? If you don’t know these answers, you’re not trained enough to be in the field without supervision yet,” he says firmly. “What works for me will not work for everyone else.” 

Touya pauses, drumming his fingers on his knee. “Probably anyone else, actually. I can memorize just about anything I read, so I know who all is in our area and what their Quirks are offhand,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I’m told that’s unusual, so that’s not something that’s viable for everyone. But you all have comms and people back at base who can look things up, or you can communicate on site. Ask questions. Coordinate.” 

Hawks snickers. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure the ‘just get good and know things’ tip isn’t going to work for anyone else,” he says. He watches Touya flush a pretty pink as Kinoshita laughs, too. “But otherwise, it’s good advice. You have comms. You have your teammates. You have your eyes. Survey the scene if you show up onsite late–see what Quirks are already in play. Scout the scene before leaping into action. If someone is already using fire, for example, don’t release your flammable gas Quirk,” he says, nudging Touya with a small smirk. 

Touya huffs a little laugh, “Please. Please, do not do that. I rather like not being a crater on the ground.” 

“It would be rather poetic, if you think about it. ‘Comet goes out like a comet,’” Hawks says, holding his hands out like a headline. 

“More like a landmine,” he deadpans. “A comet would take out fewer people in the scenario you described.” 

Kinoshita laughs. “What would you tell a new hero trying to learn to work with someone they find difficult to pair with? Perhaps a mentor they don’t get along with?” she asks. 

Hawks looks to Touya, but Touya tips his head back to Hawks. 

He hums. “Probably that they’ll run into personalities that they’ll clash with all the time in this line of work. It’s important to remember that you don’t necessarily need to like everyone, as long as you can work with everyone. Keep it professional and respectful–you don’t have to be best friends, you know?” he says tactfully. 

“Comet?” Kinoshita asks. “What’s your advice?” 

Touya doesn’t consider it. “Get over it, frankly,” he says. Hawks nearly chokes. “The world doesn’t really care who or what you like or don’t like,” he says with a shrug. “If you don’t want to work with someone, you really only have two options: either figure out how to, or quit. If you can’t do either and still be a hero, then how much did you really want to be a hero?” he asks flatly.

Kinoshita blinks. Hawks stares. 

“You’re–very direct!” Kinoshita says again. “You really don’t mince words at all.” 

Touya frowns. “Why would I? It wouldn’t help anyone to lie about the truth. Is it not kinder to save someone time rather than let them agonize over something that ultimately means nothing?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Hawks watches him thoughtfully. He thinks maybe he understands Touya a little better–his harsh way of speaking isn’t–harsh in his eyes. It’s a kindness. Another way he tries to be kind, in his eyes, is to save people time and be direct–to save people the confusion of trying to understand a double meaning, or a confusing half-truth. 

“Do you think that’s another reason why you’re lower in the hero rankings, Comet? Your direct attitude and penchant for uncomfortable truths?” Kinoshita muses curiously. 

Touya tips his head in thought. “Yes, and no. Largely, it’s because I don't try to be a celebrity hero. I’m bad at it because of my direct attitude and ‘penchant for uncomfortable truths,’ as you put it,” he says. “Because of that, my approval rating–which is a large part of the ranking system for heroes–keeps me much lower than I would otherwise be. I do my job, and I do it well; that’s really all that should matter in my opinion,” he says. 

Hawks hums. “I see where you’re coming from, I do, but I don’t know that I agree,” he says, inclining his head. “Approval stats are the most important stat, in my opinion. Being the peoples’ hero is what’s important–you can save people and clear the streets of criminals quietly, but if you’re not making people feel safe, and not making villains and criminals feel scared, you’re not making the same impact,” he argues. “If you die in battle, that impact vanishes. Your name doesn’t live on if no one knows to speak it. There’s no legacy to remember, no one to look up to, and nothing to emulate.” 

Touya’s leg drops to the ground and he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his gaze burning with intensity. Hawks is distantly aware of the other camera focusing on him, and he bets that it’s a hell of a view if it’s even half of what he’s getting right now; he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe. “You’re wrong,” he argues. “Heroes always mean something. They always have, even before Quirks–before there were heroes in the sense we know them now. People looked up to doctors, to firefighters, to people who saved lives, even when they weren’t all celebrities with PR managers, ad campaigns, special titles, and spandex,” he says firmly. “Everyone has someone who personally saved them–a doctor, a nurse, a firefighter. A hero, even if their name isn’t famous.” 

Hawks frowns. “That’s… a point, but being a pro-hero is different from being a doctor, a nurse, or a firefighter. We have Quirks, now. Being a pro-hero isn’t just a job, it’s a lifestyle, a position in society that mandates a level of responsibility and–” 

Touya leans farther forward, waving his hand as he speaks. “Because we decided to make it that way,” he argues. “When we elevated heroes from protectors who can aid officers and rescuers, we gave ourselves leeway and status that I don’t personally think we should have. It allows heroes to get away with things that they should not be able to. It makes people look the other way when heroes do things that they don’t believe them capable of doing, simply because they’re a hero, and heroes don’t do that; there’s an implicit trust given to the position that isn’t always earned,” he says, sounding frustrated. “Being a hero is a serious career, and you’re right that it mandates a level of responsibility and trust. We should be held to the standards of every other employee in Japan, and the world,” he says firmly. “Not to the standards of celebrities who can do no wrong.” 

Kinoshita cuts in, her eyes vibrant with curiosity. “You say that the celebrity status of heroes allows them to get away with things; what do you mean by that, Comet?” she asks. 

Touya leans back, his expression shuttering as he considers how to respond. His fingers drum on his knee, and Hawks realizes, quite suddenly, that Endeavor is a celebrity pro-hero that Touya does not like very much. 

He cuts in. “Personally, I always get away with my criminally rogueish good looks. Comet’s guilty of that one, too,” he says, giving her an award-winning smirk. 

Touya’s gaze cuts to him, his brows raising in surprise. 

Kinoshita laughs, waving her hand at him, taking the cue to redirect. 

“That you do! What Quirks do you love to see on scene when you arrive? On the hero side, or the villain side?” she asks. 

Hawks considers. “Any, really,” he says tactfully. Frankly, he’s really weak to fire Quirks, but he thinks it’s probably bad to say that out loud, especially with Touya’s hangup about potentially scarring him. He actually doesn’t mind fire Quirks, when they’re on his side, so he figures he can throw that in. “I will say, I do love to see wind or heat quirks on my side; those always give some great updrafts,” he says with a wide grin. 

Touya pulls his leg back up, and Hawks can’t help but trail his eyes along his long leg, stretched out in front of him, then up the leg he has pulled to himself, back up to his face. He tips his head thoughtfully, dropping his chin down on his knee. “Anything resistant to fire on my side is always a plus. Anything less resistant on the villain’s side is always a plus. But that’s obvious,” he says with a shrug. “Otherwise, I’m not particularly picky. Anyone willing to work with me is fine. It’s… a rather short list, usually.” 

Hawks grins, crossing his legs so he can lean forward. “I’ll work with you anytime, Comet,” he says. 

“You two have worked together a few times in the past, right?” Kinoshita asks. 

Touya tenses. 

“Yep!” Hawks says, nodding. “We’re not allowed to talk about it in detail, because it’s still in processing, but I really admire how Comet worked,” he says.

Touya relaxes. “Hawks is… very focused in the field,” he says carefully. The liar. “I admire him as well.” 

“Will you team up with each other more in the future, do you think?” she asks, tilting her head. 

“I hope so!” Hawks says. “I’d like it if he worked at my agency one day, frankly,” he says with a shrug. “Not that I’m trying to poach him from Gunhead! But you know, if the cards fall that way.” 

Touya stares at him blankly for a solid ten seconds. “I would consider it,” he says finally, his voice flat. “Working with Hawks on a teamup, I mean,” he clarifies. 

Kinoshita grins. “What about working at his agency? Can we expect a swap in employment in the next few months? You seem to have transferred a few times already,” she muses. 

Touya shrugs. “My contracts are six months at a time. As they end, we discuss where to go from there. Sometimes, my contract gets bought out early by outside sources, and I’m forced to move on,” he says, his lips twitching in annoyance. “I do what I need to, as I need to.” 

“Oh? Who buys out your contract?” Kinoshita asks curiously. 

“Next question,” Touya says. 

Kinoshita’s brows shoot up, and her eyes spark in understanding; Hawks catches it, too. Endeavor must be buying out his contracts early, trying to force a transfer. Intriguing. “Right! I see, okay. Well–I actually think that’s all the time we have for today! Why don’t we round this out with some parting words on heroism for the audience, hm? Any advice for hero-hopefuls before we go, Hawks, Comet?” 

“Make your connections early, and keep in touch with everyone you can. You never know who you might team up with later,” Hawks says, tipping a salute. 

“Do what you need to do, the best you can. It’s the only way you won’t regret anything later,” Touya says, inclining his head. 

“And there you have it, folks! Thanks for joining us!” Kinoshita holds her pose for the count of three, and then turns to them, the interview obviously over.

Hawks relaxes with a sigh, and Touya heaves a sigh as well. 

“You’re a natural, Comet,” Hawks says, nudging him with his foot. 

Touya swivels to stare him down, like he’s searching for a sign of sarcasm. 

“He’s right! You were very natural, very calm and collected. I hope you’ll come back for an individual interview–please reach out any time,” she says, digging in her pocket to offer him a card. 

Touya sighs, taking it. He glances at it, then tucks it away. 

Hawks grins, leaning over. “What’s the number, Comet?” he asks. 

Touya groans. “You’re insufferable,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not a party trick, you know.” 

Kinoshita raises her eyebrows. “You were serious about that? Can you really just memorize anything?” 

“He can. Number, Comet!” Hawks says in a sing-song voice. 

He sighs. “I regret ever speaking to you,” he tells him. “093-555-8763,” he mutters. 

Kinoshita cackles in delight. “I see why you’re so pleased with him, Hawks,” she says. “He’s darling.” 

“Isn’t he?” Hawks agrees. He doesn’t think he’s agreed with anything more.

Chapter Text

The photoshoot is next, Kinoshita tells them. It’s run by a photographer named Asano Kiyoshi. 

Touya is–still a little off-balance from the interview, frankly. He thinks he probably spoke way too often, argued way too much, and spoke entirely too flatly. He probably did more damage to himself than he helped, but he usually does, so that’s… probably not unexpected. 

Which is why he’s so confused when everyone keeps cooing over him like he’s some sort of–thing to be cooed over. Kinoshita keeps looking at him like he’s a particularly good meal, and Hawks keeps smirking when she does it and playing along like he’s in on the joke, and Touya hates when he’s not in on the joke, because it usually means the joke is about him. 

It’s all coming together to be a bit of a perfect storm to make him entirely self-conscious. He wonders if Hawks is playing some elaborate joke to knock him out of the rankings entirely. It seems… unlikely, given how not a threat he is to Hawks’ number six ranking at his number forty-nine ranking, but what does he know? He doesn’t know how to play the game. Maybe he’s accidentally doing something right, and Hawks wants to eliminate him before he moves up the rankings. 

But there was that offhand comment about wanting Touya to work at his agency one day… 

He hasn’t even begun to process that. 

Why would Hawks want him to work at his agency? 

Touya’s been–perhaps self sabotaging. He applies at agencies beneath his ranking, hoping to avoid Endeavor’s notice. Endeavor tracks him down eventually, of course, but it comes with a trade off of not making a lot of money, or making much of a name for himself in the process. 

Granted… he’s never tried to make much of a name for himself, either. 

Maybe Hawks wants him to make a name for himself? 

But why? 

It all comes back to that. 

Why? 

Kiyoshi comes to bring them to makeup, brought over by an assistant. He’s loud, so Touya notices him immediately. He has golden hair and eyes, and overdone makeup, and clothes that are probably stylish to a more trained eye, but to Touya they just look–confusing. He’s not sure why someone would need that many different layers. 

“Yes, yes, darling, I’ve got that set up. Absolutely. Mhm. Hawksie, Hawksie! I’m so pleased to see you again!” he says, his voice dripping with affection that even Touya can tell is put upon. It’s all so obviously a persona, a fake way of speaking and being that Touya’s tired for him. 

Hawks grins, flitting to his side immediately, putting on his Hawks persona with ease. “Kiyoshi! My fave photo man!” he returns easily. “How’s it going?” 

“Oh, lovely, you know. You’re my fifth shoot of the day, so I’m on mocha number seven. My diet is shot, darling,” he says, laughing deprecatingly. “I hear we’re shooting you with someone today? A Comet? Where is–oh my god.” His eyes land on Touya, and he freezes. 

Touya freezes, too. He’s just gotten up and was halfway over, but now he feels like he’s made a terrible, horrible mistake. He thinks he should have run to the nearest exit and gone home. 

“He’s beautiful, Hawks. Why haven’t you brought him to me sooner?” Kiyoshi breathes, his eyes wide as saucers. He turns to Hawks, his eyes accusing. 

Hawks laughs. “I’m sorry for my sins, Kiyoshi!” he says, mock bowing. “I brought him to you as soon as I was able.” 

“Oh, I forgive you, but we need to start as soon as possible! I need as many pictures of that face as I can get!” he exclaims, hurrying forward into Touya’s space to lean in and look at him. Touya leans back on instinct, his face screwing up in concern. 

“... Hello,” he says, frowning. 

“Oh! You’re a serious one, aren’t you?” Kiyoshi says, delighted. 

“... Not intentionally,” he mutters. 

“Perfect. I know exactly what to do with you. You’re gorgeous, lovely,” he says again, and Touya feels his face heat up, looking away. He tugs at his sleeves. 

“We’re not–changing, right?” he asks firmly. “I’m not taking off my hero costume.” 

“Of course not–your outfit is the star of the show,” Kiyoshi agrees. “Although, if you ever wanted to do a shoot in something else, I’d love to play dress-up.” 

“No,” he says quickly. 

Kiyoshi pouts. “If you change your mind,” he says, letting the offer hang.

They get dragged to the makeup room, and Kiyoshi seizes his shy makeup artist, a young girl named Tachibana. 

“I love what you did with his eyes; that was a stroke of genius,” he says. Touya doesn’t actually mind it all that much, either, frankly–it does make him look a little less ghostly. “Just touch that up, then contour out his jaw a little more so the lights don’t wash him out. Otherwise, he’s perfect–don’t change a thing.” 

He hates that Kiyoshi keeps saying that. That he’s perfect. He’s not. 

He tugs at his sleeves again. 

“... You okay?” Hawks murmurs. 

“Just… a little overwhelmed. Not used to this much attention,” he admits. 

“You could use a little more attention, y’know?” Hawks says, smiling kindly. 

Touya looks away. He doesn’t know. He’s not sure he wants to. He goes to sit down in Tachibana’s chair, and Hawks sits back down in the stool at Masatoshi’s station. Touya watches with satisfaction as his wings settle behind him comfortably. He hated watching Hawks automatically scrunch up, crinkling his large wings into the edge of the chair like it was expected. It irritated him to no end that the studio hadn’t prepared for that. Or considered it when they saw him struggle. Maybe it was because his face never changed; his genial smile never faltered, his speech never paused, and he just kept talking like it never crossed his mind that he should be considered. 

When Touya had dragged over the stool, Hawks had stared at it in dead silence like it was going to bite him, and he wondered if anyone ever considered him. 

It was… a little bit sad, actually. 

Maybe Hawks could use a little more attention, too. 

Tachibana chatters at him easily. She seems to understand now that his flat answers aren’t rude, but just how he talks. He’s pleased–he wonders if he can get her card and employ her for anything he needs makeup for now. If Hawks is going to make him do anymore of these, he’d like to keep her along. 

“... Do you only work for Hero Passion! or are you freelance?” he asks. 

Tachibana pauses, her brush hovering beneath his jaw. She raises a brow. “Technically I’m freelance, but Hero Passion! has most of my contracts. Why?” she asks. 

“Just wondering if I could contact you for other jobs if I ever need them in the future,” he muses. “I assume you have a card. Everyone else seems to produce them from the ether.” 

Tachibana laughs. “I do. Let me finish, and I’ll give it to you.” 

He hums in acknowledgement. 

Hawks laughs. “Already attached, Comet? Usually people go through a few makeup artists before they find one they like,” he says from his chair. 

“Tachibana gets me,” Touya says simply. 

Tachibana flushes, finishing the contour under his jaw, then turns to grab her card. He takes a glance at it, then tucks it away. 

“He’s got your number memorized forever now, Tachibana!” Hawks sings. 

“Will you stop that?” Touya says irritably. 

Tachibana blinks. “What?” 

“It’s–I have–I memorize anything I look at. It’s not weird,” he grumbles. “I can’t help it.” 

“What’s the number, Comet?” Hawks asks in a sing-song voice. 

Tachibana looks eager, too. “Really?! That’s so cool. Do you–do you mind?” she asks. 

Touya sighs, glaring at Hawks. “You’re a menace to society,” he tells him. “093-555-5632,” he tells Tachibana.

She gasps. “That’s amazing! You barely looked at it!” she says. 

“It makes him fun at parties,” Hawks says, looking thrilled. 

“I don’t go to parties,” Touya grumbles. 

“We’ll fix that,” Hawks promises. 

Touya looks at him, alarmed, but Masatoshi seems like he’s finished with him, so Hawks gets up, offering him a hand. 

“Come on! Let’s go take some pictures.” 

An assistant meets them at the door to lead them over to a studio at the end of the hall. It’s–bigger than any of the other rooms. There’s equipment set up, but instead of big mechanical lights, there are just floating balls of light. Hawks says that’s Kiyoshi’s Quirk–Light. He prefers it over the actual lights, because it’s easier to control. There are a few screens to adjust shadows, and tons of cameras and lenses. 

“Hello, hello! Come on in. Alright, we’re going to start off with a few single shots, then shots together. Comet, you’ve never done a photoshoot before, right?” he asks. 

Touya shakes his head. 

“Alright, no worries! How about you take a seat next to me, and we’ll have Hawks go first so you can get a feel for it?” he asks. Touya nods, taking a seat in the chair labeled “Kiyoshi.” Hawks walks over to the staging area. 

“How do you want me?” he asks easily, grinning. 

“Let’s do a few light tests, so get loose. Give me a few standard poses–just stand how you’re comfortable,” he says, lifting the camera. 

Hawks stand with his feet apart, crossing his arms, and stares at the camera with a small smile. Touya quickly learns ‘how you’re comfortable’ in photoshoots does not mean ‘how you’re actually comfortable’ but ‘how you’re attractive.’ And that’s an important distinction. He’s glad Hawks went first. 

Hawks doesn’t overdo it, but he does subtle things, leaning back just a tad here, flaring his wings slightly to draw attention to them there, tilting his head just so, grinning just a little, cocking his head to the side. He puts a hand behind his head in one, making his body one long line, and Touya finds his eyes trailing along it easily. 

It’s interesting how easily Hawks can make himself attractive. 

“Perfect. Alright, let’s get a little more creative. Go ahead and do some poses.” 

Yeah. This is worse. 

Hawks actively trying to be attractive is worse. He flicks his visor up and winks at one point sending finger guns at Touya, and Touya feels his face flush darkly. He does several different poses, leaning back and putting a hand over his mouth like he’s thinking, putting his hands on his hips and standing with his stance wide in an All Might pose at one point with a silly little grin that makes Touya snort, and he snaps out his wings at one point in his signature Hawks pose in a way that makes Touya a little breathless. 

“Perfect! I think we’ve got it. Comet, you’re up. Think you’ve got a few ideas?” he asks. 

“... Perhaps,” he says uncertainly. 

He walks over, and Hawks passes him, pausing to grab his arm. “It’ll be fine. Look at me if you get nervous. I’m right here,” he offers with a small smile. 

Touya nods, then heads up to the staging area. It’s–kind of hot up here, actually.

“We’re going to start with the same thing–I want a few basic poses to test the lighting, okay?” Kiyoshi says, smiling. “Just do what feels comfortable.” 

Touya nods. He stands with his hands in his pockets, staring down the camera like he would a villain. Kiyoshi takes a small breath, clicking furiously. “Perfect,” he says quickly. “Try a new one.” 

He crosses his arms, tipping his chin up, trying to tap into something–haughty? He doesn’t fucking know. This is so weird. Kiyoshi seems to like it. He looks at Hawks for the next one, but Hawks is–pink, staring at him with one hand over his mouth. He nods quickly, giving him a thumbs up. 

He tries a few more poses, basic things, barely moving. Kiyoshi is a little–excessive in his praise. He’s barely moving, honestly. He’s not even sure what to do. 

“Alright, let’s get a little creative! Lighting is perfect,” Kiyoshi says. “I’m gonna guide you through a few poses, if that’s alright,” he says. Touya breathes a sigh of relief. Thank God, direction. “There’s a bench just behind you. Go ahead and kind of lounge across it,” he says. 

Touya nods. He sits down, then sort of–lounges backwards, draping himself across it, letting one leg hang down. He turns to Kiyoshi, raising a brow. Clickclickclick. 

“Yeah, perfect!” 

Touya hums. Well. If he’s allowed to use the bench. He lounges more properly, kicking his other leg over so that it’s in the air, then lets his arm hang, turning his face to look at Hawks. Hawks stares at him, unblinking. 

Touya smiles, very slightly, ignoring the flurry of clicks, and watches Hawks’ pupils go wide. 

He’s not. Entirely sure what that reaction is, but he thinks he wants to know. 

Touya sits up properly, bringing one leg up, tilting his head. Clickclickclick.

“Settle that leg back down next and cross them at the ankles–I want to get the length of your legs–they’re so long, it’s going to make a dynamic photo,” Kiyoshi says. 

Touya frowns slightly, but obliges. He knows his legs are freakishly long. He crosses them at the ankles, tipping his head back as if looking at the sky so he doesn’t have to look at the camera anymore.

“Perfect, your neck is great, too. Really graceful, Comet. You already know all your good angles. You sure you haven’t modeled before?” Kiyoshi asks. 

“Positive,” he answers dryly. “I’m rather baffled by this entire process.” 

“What a waste,” Kiyoshi mourns. “You could just be a model forever.” 

“Heroics would weep at the loss,” Hawks says. 

“Modeling is already weeping at the loss, Hawks!” Kiyoshi argues. “Alright, I think we have enough solos. Let’s get some together.” 

Touya stands up. 

Hawks steps onto the stage, grinning. 

“Alright, so–we’ve got a pretty clear happy-go-lucky, serious dichotomy, so I want to play into that a little. Hawks, keep your big smiles as much as possible; Comet, keep your serious face on,” he says. 

Touya shrugs. “I don’t think my face does anything else willingly,” he says. 

Kiyoshi laughs. “Perfect. Let’s start off with you two facing each other.” 

Hawks faces him, leaning forward with a big grin. Touya stares at him impassively, making no motion to lean forward. 

“Perfect. Keep that energy throughout the whole shoot, that’s what I’m aiming for. Shake hands.” 

Hawks offers his hand with a little laugh, and Touya takes it, rolling his eyes. 

“Ha! Nice touch, Comet. Okay, next, stand back to back; is that going to be a problem with your wings? Can he kind of nestle in between them, Hawks?” 

“Yep! That’ll work,” Hawks chirps. 

Touya blinks. “You sure?” he asks. “Not gonna bother you?”

“Nope, not at all. Come on, Comet,” he says, turning around and rustling his wings like he’s trying to entice him over. 

Touya shuffles backwards, feeling the warm wings at his back. The feathers, soft and downy, brush across his neck, and he shivers. He crosses his arms, glaring into the middle distance.

“Perfect, Comet! Great smile, Hawks! Next, let’s try having Hawks sit down and Comet stand behind him. You can sit on the ground or the bench, whichever is easier,” he says. 

“Ground,” Touya says. “You can fluff out your wings–the bench back sucks.” 

Hawks pauses, halfway over to the bench, then laughs. “You really think about how my wings are going to get squished a lot, don’t you?” he asks, his eyes wondering. 

Touya looks away. “You don’t seem to,” he mutters. “Sit down.” He puts a hand on his head, lightly grabbing his hair, pushing him down toward the ground, and Hawks drops like a rock, looking up at him with wide eyes, pupils huge, lips slightly parted, and–

Well. 

That’s a sight. 

He fluffs his wings, turning toward the camera, and Touya leaves his hand on Hawks’ head, leaning slightly forward, glaring at the camera. 

Kiyoshi clicks the camera, laughing. “You’re really a natural at this, Comet. That’s perfect. Go ahead and swap positions.” 

Touya sits down, and Hawks cards his fingers into his hair, almost gripping it, leaning forward slightly, and Touya flicks his gaze up to meet Hawks’, slightly challenging. Hawks looks down at him, smirking, his eyes intense in all the right wrong ways. 

Touya stares at him for a long moment, then slowly looks back to the camera, staring it down, because looking at Hawks is bad for his health. 

He’s always known Hawks is–attractive. But having Hawks this close is… maybe a problem. 

“Go ahead and stand up. Do you mind if we try one shot that plays with your wings, Hawks?” he asks. 

“Go for it! They’re my best feature,” he says, ruffling up his wings pridefully. 

“Great! I want you to stand behind Comet and unfurl them all the way out–the end goal is to make it look like Comet has wings on first glance–but you’ll have your arms kind of around him, so they can see you’re there, too. You okay with that, Comet?” he asks. 

Touya stares blankly for a moment. He wants Hawks to–embrace him, basically. 

“... Yeah, that’s fine,” he says with a shrug. Because he’s not supposed to care, because if he cares then there’s a reason he cares, and if there’s a reason he cares, then he has to examine that. 

He doesn’t quite want to examine that yet. 

Hawks steps up behind him, his arms sliding around his waist, his wings snapping out, his chin hooking over his shoulder so his head is visible just over his shoulder. 

It’s–intimate. 

Touya tips his chin up slightly, keeping his face perfectly blank, because he has no fucking clue what to do with his hands or his face or his body right now, so he’s just going to do nothing.

“Perfect, hold that for a sec,” Kiyoshi says, clicking away. 

Hawks’ hands are on his torso. One is on his stomach, the other is on his chest, holding him almost–posessively. He’s holding him tighter than Touya thought he would. He thought his grip would be lax, a thing of necessity, but that is not what this is. 

“Got it! Alright, I think that’s enough. You both did amazing!” 

Hawks lets go. “Thanks, Kiyoshi!” he chirps, grinning.

Fuck. 

Touya nods once. “... That’s everything, then?” he checks. 

“Yep! That’s all. You’re free to go.” 

“Great. Thanks for your time,” he says, inclining his head. 

“Take my card, Comet! I want to take more pictures of you!” Kiyoshi begs, handing him a card. 

Does everyone just have cards? Should he have a card? Where did that card even come from? He glances at it miserably, then tucks it away. 

“Coooommeeettt,” Hawks sings. 

“093-555-4289,” he says automatically, because he knows where this is going. 

Kiyoshi blinks. “How did you–” 

“I can memorize anything I look at, and Hawks thinks it’s a very funny party trick,” he says, narrowing his eyes. 

Hawks cackles, bending over. “It is a very funny party trick!” he argues. “What’s funnier is how you look like your soul has left your body every time I ask.” 

Kiyoshi laughs. “It does.” 

“On that note. I’m going home,” Touya says, waving. He heads toward the door.

“Ah, wait! Comet! ‘Bye Kiyoshi!” Hawks flits after him, falling into step next to him as he heads toward the elevator. “You’ll get the paycheck for all of that in the next week–it should be pretty good!” he says, grinning. “They pay well.” 

Touya blinks. “Oh. I get paid for that?” he asks blankly. 

Hawks stares at him. “You thought you were doing that for free?” he asks incredulously. 

“Well… no, but it was a favor to you. I kind of assumed you were getting paid for it,” he admits. 

“I’m not taking your money for your work, Comet,” Hawks says disapprovingly. “Your work will be compensated fairly.” 

Touya hums. “Nice,” he mumbles. “... How much am I getting paid for that, even?” he asks. 

“Did you read any of the paperwork you signed?” he asks, laughing.

He… hadn’t. Gunhead had given him paperwork for the shoot and interview but he had kind of just–skimmed it, gotten lost in the legalese, then signed it anyway. He shrugs. “Not really. I figured you would tell me the highlights,” he says honestly. 

“I’m giving you the name of some PR agents and a lawyer I have on retainer. You need people to go over contracts for you,” Hawks says, laughing incredulously. “You’re way too trusting.” 

“I don’t have money to have a lawyer on retainer,” he says irritably. “Or PR agents on retainer, for that matter. Shouto starts UA next year,” he grumbles, stepping into the elevator and mashing the floor for one. 

“You would get paid more at my agency, you know,” Hawks says casually. 

Touya glances at him, brows pinched. “You said that in the interview. I thought you were joking.” 

Hawks grins. “No, of course not. I’d love to have you at my agency,” he says. 

“... I just started working for Gunhead,” he mutters. 

“I can buy out your contract,” he offers immediately, leaning forward, his eyes sharp, as if seizing the fact  that Touya didn’t immediately say no. “I’d do it in a second if you wanted me to.” 

Touya leans back at the intensity, blinking. “Why?” he asks. 

“I think we could work well together with some joint training, and you’re wasted without proper PR. I’d love to see where you could place in the rankings with some assistance,” Hawks says, not looking away, not blinking. He blinks less when he’s looking at Touya, he realizes. “Plus, I enjoy your company. What’s not to like about having you on staff?” he asks. 

Touya looks away. “I’ll… think about it,” he mutters.

Hawks grins. “That’s all I ask!” he chirps, stepping out of the elevator as it opens. “You sure you don’t want a ride home? Hawks express is always running,” he offers, holding his arms open. Touya speeds up, walking to the desk to drop off his badge. 

“Good evening,” he says brusquely to the front desk clerk. He hurries toward the front door, resolutely not making eye contact with Hawks, who’s following closely behind him. 

“Is that a no?” he asks, and he almost sounds like he’s pouting. 

“Of course it’s a no,” he bites out, glaring at him. “Do you want me to vomit on you today?” 

Hawks snickers. “It’s really not that bad! I can be gentle! We can go slow!” he offers. He leans in, winking. “I can be really really gentle, I promise,” he says in a low voice that Touya definitely does not read any additional meaning into. 

Touya turns on his heel, looking around for a street name, ignoring him entirely to walk away. 

“Comet! C’mon! At least let me call you a car,” Hawks complains, trotting after him. 

“No, it’s fine. Walking will do me good,” he says, stretching. “Sitting for that whole interview made my joints hurt,” he says. 

Hawks sighs. “Alright, alright. Are you patrolling tomorrow?” he asks. 

“No. I’ve got paperwork, so I’ll be mostly indoors. Got patrol the day after, though,” he says. 

“Okay. I’ll see you then,” he says. He smiles, waves, and kicks off into the air. Touya watches his rapidly disappearing form, his shoulders relaxing minutely. 

He can still feel his arms around him, his warm hands on his stomach and his chest, holding him tightly. 

Touya is… probably going to have to think about what that means. 

And that’s unfortunate. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

There’s a definite shift in their relationship after the interview and photoshoot. 

Hawks notices it pretty quickly; Touya watches him more often. He’ll be flying his patrol route, and all of a sudden he’ll just–know. He’ll look down, focusing, and see Touya, walking along his route, his eyes toward the sky, squinting up at him. 

He likes watching Touya walk his route, too. He walks confidently, stalking along the street in his costume, coat-tails fluttering. 

He’s also started wearing liner around his eyes while in his hero costume thanks to Tachibana.

God bless Tachibana. 

They’ll have the magazine up tomorrow–it’s been about a week, so he doesn’t have to wait too much longer at least. He wants to see the pictures, desperately. Touya looked too good, his gaze burning and fierce. When he had lain down across the bench, one arm out toward Hawks, face turned toward him, lips turned up in a small smile, he thought his heart would explode in his chest. And then when he had–

When he had grabbed a fist full of his hair and pushed him down to his knees–

Jesus. 

He hadn’t even seemed to notice the effect it had, although Hawks had seen the way Kiyoshi’s eyes had almost popped out of his head in shock at the action. Some of the interns and producer’s staff had turned bright red, fanning themselves, and he couldn’t even blame them, because holy hell. 

Yeah, Hawks was lost, frankly. He’d known it for a while, distantly, that Touya was… probably it, for him, but that photoshoot had put the final nail into the coffin for him. Touya was all there would ever be, all he would ever have eyes for. Who could ever compare? 

It’s… definitely too soon to be this deep into his feelings, but–he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a choice. He’s probably never had a choice; he thinks it’s probably always been Touya, from the moment he saw him in that article, ringed by Blueflame, staring into the camera with a small frown. 

Touya hasn’t even invited him to dinner yet. 

He’s been… Well, he hasn’t been waiting, exactly. But he hasn’t… not been waiting, either. 

Hoping, more like. 

They've been talking more often since the interview. He has texts. Random little things that pitter out quickly because Touya hates texting, but he still sends them. Texts about how he saw a cat, and a terribly blurry flip phone picture of a cat, running away, all paws and tail. Texts about how Natsuo has a conference next month, and he has to dress up. Texts about how he got the paycheck for the photoshoot–that one came with a phone call and an incredulous rant about how much he got paid for just–'standing there and talking'. Apparently it was excessive. 

Hawks didn’t think it was all that exorbitant, but he’s glad that Touya is pleased with it. Touya needs extra money, so he’s glad it can ease the way for him. 

He calls sometimes, when he has a rant that’s too long to text. He called to complain about someone claiming that he misremembered something that was written down, so they had to go pull the paperwork to prove that he hadn’t, and that it was accurately filed. The offense in his voice had been–so endearing. 

He’s finishing up at work, changing out of his hero costume in the locker room when his phone buzzes. He grabs it quickly, nearly fumbling it, and mashes the answer button when he sees Touya’s name. 

“Comet?” he asks. 

“Hey, Birdie,” Touya says casually. “You busy tonight?” 

Hawks loves that nickname. “Nah. I just finished my shift–was about to head home. Why?” 

“Hang out for a few minutes. I’ll come pick you up. My siblings are officially going to riot if I don’t bring you by for dinner,” he says with a put-upon sigh. “Mind indulging them?” 

His wings flare out in surprise, smacking his locker shut with a bang. “Yeah, that sounds awesome,” he says, sounding entirely too pleased. “I’ll be dressed in less than five. You heading over from Gunhead’s?” he asks. 

“Yep. I’ll be there by the time you’re done,” he says easily. He can hear the door swinging open and the sounds of the city coming to life, so he’s already heading over. “‘Yumi is making curry if that’s cool with you. I don’t think she made anything with meat, but she can probably grab something; I don’t usually like the smell of it cooking, so she doesn’t usually get it unless it’s a special request,” he muses. “Do you want something in particular?”

Oh. He hadn’t realized it was a scent thing–he thought Touya just didn’t like eating meat. He takes note of that, though he wonders why. “That’s fine,” he says. “I’m good with whatever.” 

He does, technically, need meat in his diet, though it’s… generally better if it’s raw. He doesn’t tell anyone that, typically, and he doesn’t actually eat that outside of his own house by himself, so curry is totally fine every now and again. 

“See you in a few, then.” 

“See you, Comet,” he says, then hangs up to finish changing. He’s got a few different civilian clothes stored. He pulls on his nicer gray t-shirt and black overshirt, then his good jeans, tennis shoes, and his bracelets. He slips on his necklace, then heads out toward the lobby. 

Touya is already there, leaning against the desk. Rhythmic already tracked him down and is chattering his ear off, bouncing in place. Touya looks faintly amused, one brow raised. 

What are they even talking about? What did he say to get that look? Hawks frowns, scooting forward to try to hear better. 

“... so since I have the directional speaker I was like WHAM, POW, and I had him down with my Song of Sleep in, like, two seconds,” he says, making a little punch move with his hands, his eyes sparkling. “That was such a good idea, Comet! Thank you so much for recommending Awata to me!” 

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, kid,” he says. 

Rhythmic’s lips twitch in a frown at the word ‘kid,’ and Hawks can’t help but smirk. “You know I’m nineteen, right?” he asks, leaning forward. 

Touya’s brows raise. “I’m twenty-two,” he replies blankly. “Does that matter?” 

“You keep calling me ‘kid,’” he says, pouting, arms crossed. 

“Oh. Sorry,” Touya says, shifting. “You’re short,” he says uncertainly. 

“As long as you don’t think of me as a kid,” Rhythmic says hopefully, tilting his head, and okay, that’s enough of that!

“Comet!” he calls, walking over. “Ready to go?” 

Touya shoots him a grateful look. “Yep. Sorry, Rhythmic, gotta go.” 

Rhythmic frowns, looking between them. “Another interview?” he asks. 

“Nah, dinner,” Hawks says with a pleased little smile. 

Touya rolls his eyes. “Don’t look so pleased. My family just wants to meet you,” he mutters. 

Rhythmic’s face shutters, and Hawks could cheer; there was nothing he could have said that would have shut that down faster. 

“You still have that eyeliner on,” Hawks notes, leaning forward to look at his face. 

“Ugh, I know. I forgot the wipes for it. I’ll take it off at home,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. He didn’t bother changing out of his hero costume at all, so he’s still fully dressed. “Figured I’d just change when I got home, too. C’mon, it’s not far.” 

Touya leads him to a nice little set of apartments. It’s not bad, actually, and not far from either of their agencies, all things considered, maybe only a ten to fifteen minute walk. He follows him up the stairs to the second floor, then over to a door with a mat that says "Wipe Your Paws" with little paw prints. Touya glances down at it, rolling his eyes. 

"Shouto wanted it," he says, like that's explanation enough. 

Touya unlocks the door, and he immediately smells cooking and hears the sounds of quiet conversation in the kitchen. 

“I’m home,” Touya calls. He unzips his boots, setting them aside, and gestures for Hawks to do the same. He pauses. Technically, he’s not supposed to–not wear shoes in front of anyone else, but he is wearing socks, so it should be fine. He kicks off his boots. 

“If you want some house shoes, I’ve got some,” Touya says, opening a small trunk from around the corner. He tosses over some black slippers, like he can sense his discomfort, and Hawks slips them on quickly. He doesn’t have talons or anything, but his feet aren’t quite– right either. It’s not easy to see through socks, but his nails grow thick and sharp, and his muscles don’t look exactly right; his ankles are thin and too dainty and it’s all a little obvious when he’s not wearing his boots. Touya doesn’t look down at all, and it’s–a little nice, actually, that he’s not prying into something Hawks is obviously uncomfortable with. 

“Thanks.” 

“Welcome home, Touya. Hello, Hawks,” a quiet voice says. Hawks looks up and sees a younger kid standing in the livingroom, staring at him. He’s definitely Touya’s brother. He has half red and half white hair, one turquoise eye and one black eye, like he’s been split right down the middle, and a violent scar covering half of his face. This has to be Shouto Todoroki. 

“Hi, tiny Todoroki!” he chirps, grinning. 

“Don’t be weird, brat. I’m gonna change. Hawks, you can sit at the table; I’ll be back in a sec,” he says, heading off into the hallway. Hawks watches curiously as he disappears into one of the doors. 

Shouto stares at him. He has Touya’s same intense gaze. “The table is over here,” he says, tipping his head toward the dining area. Hawks follows him to a low table with cushions. He sits down, letting his wings fold behind him. Shouto sits across from him, staring at him expectantly. 

“So! How’s school going?” he asks, grinning. 

“Fine,” he answers. 

“Good, good,” Hawks says. “... How about, uh… You had a friend, right, who was cleaning a beach? How’s he?” 

“Midoriya is fine.” 

Right. 

Christ, this kid is hard to talk to. 

“Midoriya, huh?” he asks. “What’s he like?” 

Shouto stares at the table for a long moment, like he’s thinking. “Nice,” he says quietly. 

… 

Yeah, that’s all he says. 

Hawks stares at him. 

Shouto stares at the table. 

Hawks thinks Touya is taking an incredibly long time to change. 

A door in the hallway opens, and he sighs in relief, twisting around to look, but it’s not Touya coming out. It’s a different Todoroki, this one a little shorter than Touya but much stockier, buffer. He has black eyes and white hair, and an amiable grin. This one has to be Natsuo, he thinks. 

“Oh! Hello! You’re Hawks, right?” he asks. 

Hawks pops to his feet, offering his hands. “Yeah! You’re Natsuo, yeah? Nice to meet you, middle Torodoki!” he says, grinning. 

Natsuo laughs. “You can just call me Natsuo–it’ll get confusing if we’re all Todoroki.” 

“Heard,” he says. “I’ve read some of your published papers, actually–the one on how all Quirks are technically mutant-type Quirks was really cool, actually, are you planning to expand on that one at some point?” he asks, sitting back down. Natsuo sits down next to Shouto, blinking. 

“Oh! Yeah, actually, that’s the basis of my thesis, actually,” he says, laughing. “I can send you some sources if you’re actually interested and not just being polite,” he offers. “No worries if you are, though–it’s pretty dry.” 

“I’m actually interested, trust me,” he says, waving a hand. He digs in his pocket and grabs a card, offering it to Natsuo. “Please, send ‘em over. My Quirk is pretty weird because it’s one of those weird mixes between mutant-type and emitter, so I study a lot about Quirk science,” he says easily. “Your papers are pretty cool!” 

Natsuo flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks,” he says. “I think it’s–interesting to study, you know? If we can understand how they function, and stop trying so hard to shoehorn them into a few categories so hard, it would be much easier to treat Quirk illnesses,” he says thoughtfully. “I’m focusing primarily on medicine, so much of my work is going to tend that way.” 

Shouto hums. “He wants to fix–” 

Natsuo waves his hand with a sharp headshake, and Shouto blinks at him. 

Hawks blinks, too. 

Fix… what? 

Touya steps back out of the bedroom, and Hawks turns around to look at him. He almost double-takes. Touya is wearing short sleeves. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his arms before. 

He’s wearing black jeans and a high-necked shirt with the sleeves cut off, his lean, muscular arms on display. He has a few burn scars on his arms, one curling around his wrist and another curling around his left shoulder up and and into the sleeve of his shirt. He has a necklace dangling in the center of his chest, and a few bracelets on his wrists. 

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. 

He didn’t actually take the eyeliner off, either, so he’s still got that dark liner smudges around his eyes, making them look… perfect and intense. He comes over to Hawks, folding himself into the seat next to him, looking relaxed and casual, even though there’s some tension in between his shoulders. 

Natsuo’s staring at him, looking surprised, and he wonders if it’s odd for him to not wear sleeves, even in the house. He controls his expression quickly. “You look like an edgelord with the eyeliner,” he says, smirking. 

“What’s an edgelord?” Shouto asks blankly. 

“Touya,” Natsuo answers. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Hawks says quickly. “It’s perfect, never stop wearing it.” 

Touya gives him a lazy smirk. “Oh? Like it, Birdie?” he asks. 

“Maybe,” Hawks answers. 

Touya hums. “It’s not so bad. Makes me look a little less dead,” he says with a shrug. 

Natsuo frowns. “What do you mean dead?” he asks, his gaze cutting over to Touya. 

“I look like a ghost, ‘Tsuo,” he says, laughing good naturedly. “I don’t know if you noticed how pale I am. Tachibana put this on during the photoshoot. Made me look a little less like I’d risen from the grave to haunt the streets of heroics present.” 

Hawks frowns, glancing around to see a little frown on Shouto and Natsuo’s face that says Touya… probably talks like this a lot. Does he just… think he doesn’t look good? All the time? 

“You don’t look like a ghost,” Hawks says, propping his chin up. “I always thought you looked like one of those statues in a museum, carved out of marble.” 

Touya’s gaze snaps to him, his face coloring. “... What?” he asks. 

“Like a work of art,” he clarifies, his lips pulling into a little smile. “Pale, yes, but not less beautiful.” 

Touya leans back, looking slightly baffled. “I’m… going to go check on ‘Yumi,” he mumbles, pushing to his feet to go to the kitchen on unsteady feet. 

Natsuo watches him go, then looks back at Hawks with raised brows. “... So… are you serious about him?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Hawks shrugs slowly. “Does it matter? He doesn’t… see me that way.” Even if Touya did, would Hawks be able to do anything about it? Would the Commission let him? He doesn’t know. It probably doesn’t matter, because Touya… doesn’t. He thinks they’re friends, right now, maybe. Maybe something close to friends. 

Natsuo hums. “Maybe. Maybe not. But if you’re leading him on, and he decides to take a chance on you, that would… probably crush him,” he says quietly. “Touya doesn’t love like other people. He’s very all or nothing, y’know? If he falls for you, it’ll be hard and fast, with a ‘no survivors’ kind of explosion at the bottom. So, if you don’t want that, you should make that clear. Don’t let him get that close, y’know?” he says, propping his chin on his fist. “You should define it now, before he has the chance to make that leap.” 

Shouto stares at the table. “... Like Tenko,” he mumbles. 

Natsuo shoots him another look, like he’s said too much, then sighs. “... Yeah, like Tenko,” he says. “Ask Touya about him, sometime, if you want to understand.” 

Hawks nods carefully. “... Alright,” he says slowly. 

Touya walks out of the kitchen, followed by a tall woman with white hair, speckled with red flecks. “Hawks, Fuyumi, Fuyumi, Hawks,” he says. He carries a pot of what Hawks assumes is curry, and Fuyumi carries a rice cooker behind him. He leans down, setting it in the middle of the table on a hot plate, then turns and takes the cooker from her to set it down.

“Hello, Hawks! No allergies, right?” she checks, smiling kindly. 

“None at all,” he assures, grinning back. 

“Perfect. I’ll grab the sides, then,” she says, heading back into the kitchen. Touya follows her back in. 

“Go sit down. You cooked, I’ll grab ‘em,” he mutters, ushering her back out. 

Fuyumi spins around, looking confused, hands empty. She blinks, then walks back to the table, sitting down. “Or I won’t… grab the sides,” she says, laughing in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way. 

Touya walks back out, carrying four different plates balanced on his arms, and sets them down quickly, then folds himself back into his seat. “Thanks for cooking,” he mumbles. 

Hawks grins. “Thank you for inviting me,” he says, inclining his head to everyone. Touya tugs over his plate and starts putting food on it, and Hawks blinks at him because it’s–startlingly domestic. Maybe Touya just–does that for everyone? Is he just Head of the Household in that way? But no, once he dishes out some curry and a few sides onto Hawks’ plate and then his own, he passes the spoon over to Fuyumi so she can dish her own plate like nothing is odd about this. 

Natsuo is watching with sharp eyes, and Shouto looks–confused. Fuyumi is smiling faintly, and Hawks feels like he–missed something. 

Hawks feels–kind of warm, actually. 

Touya waits until everyone has food, so Hawks follows suit, murmuring a quick ‘thanks for the meal,’ and then digs in with everyone else. It’s–really good. 

“This is lovely… ah, should I call you Miss Todoroki?” he asks. 

Fuyumi shakes her head quickly. “No, no! Fuyumi is fine!” she says quickly, waving her hands. 

“This is lovely, then, Fuyumi,” he says genuinely. “You’re a really good cook.” 

Touya nods. “One of us had to be,” he says, snorting. “It wasn’t going to be me.” 

Fuyumi laughs, covering her mouth. “You were hopeless when you took in Shouto,” she says. 

Shouto hums. “He can cook soba,” he says. 

“It was the only thing you would eat. We can all cook soba,” Touya says, snickering. “If we couldn’t, you would’ve starved before you turned eleven.” 

“How long have you all lived together?” he asks curiously. 

“I moved out when I turned eighteen,” Touya says, tapping his plate. “I…” he hesitates, taking a drink of his water. “I wanted to leave my father’s house, and I wanted to take everyone with me,” he says, shrugging. “So… I did. It was… difficult. But we managed it. So… about four years or so, I guess,” he says. 

Hawks nods, not asking any other questions. “Fuyumi, you teach, right?” he asks, changing tracks. 

She nods. “I do! I teach first grade.”

Hawks winces. “So… right about when everyone is discovering their Quirks and how to control them, huh?” he asks. 

Fuyumi laughs. “Pretty much. It makes for some pretty blank canvases. No one knows exactly what their Quirks mean yet, so I can make a pretty big impact,” she says thoughtfully. “It helps, I think. To tell children that their Quirks can be something good, and not something scary.” 

Hawks tilts his head, thinking. He guesses he hadn’t… considered that angle. He nods. “That’s true,” he says thoughtfully. He looks over at Touya. “Your brother is supposed to send me his resources for his thesis later,” he adds, remembering. 

Natsuo laughs. “You’ll tell me if he thinks they’re boring, right?” he teases. 

“Obviously,” Touya drawls. 

“I won’t, I won’t,” Hawks says, waving his hand. 

“What about you, Hawks?” Fuyumi asks. “You’re… oh, I’m sorry, I’m terrible at keeping up with hero stuff. Number seven?” she asks. 

“Number six,” Touya corrects. 

“Six, right, sorry! How long have you been a hero?” she asks. 

Hawks hums. “I made my debut at sixteen with my provisional,” he says thoughtfully. “So, I guess it’s been about… five years now,” he says thoughtfully. “More or less.” 

“What school did you go to?” Shouto asks.

“I had a private tutor,” he answers. “No school.” 

“Oh. Who did you…?” he asks. 

“You wouldn’t know her,” Hawks answers easily, grinning. “She’s not famous. I hear you’re going to UA, though.” 

Shouto nods. 

“Nice. If I had gone to school, I’d’ve wanted to go to UA, I think.” He hums. “Well, I guess now I’d’ve wanted to go to Shiketsu. High school Touya would’ve been cool to see,” he says, grinning. 

Touya groans. “Don’t,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

“I have pictures,” Fuyumi says brightly. 

“Absolutely not,” Touya says, glaring. 

“Absolutely yes,” Hawks counters, leaning forward. 

“... I haven’t seen high school pictures of you,” Shouto says quietly, his eyes curious, and Touya wilts. Hawks is quickly realizing he’s wrapped around Shouto’s little finger, and it’s adorable. 

“... Fine, whatever, after dinner, we can look,” he mutters. “Just at a few, okay? You still have homework, don’t you?” he asks. 

Shouto’s lips twitch in a smile. “No,” he says. “Midoriya and I finished it last night.” 

“... What? You guys had a sleepover, and you did homework?” Touya asks incredulously. 

Natsuo laughs. “You’re kidding.” 

“He’s very responsible,” Shouto says.

Touya puts his head in his hands. “Do over. Do another sleepover. Go sneak out or something, Jesus,” he mutters. 

Shouto blinks. “You… want us to go sneak out?” he asks, his brow furrowing. 

“No, that was a joke. Don’t sneak out. Sneaking out is bad,” Natsuo says, clicking his chopsticks. “Touya’s a bad influence. Don’t listen to him.” 

Hawks laughs. “Were you a rebellious kid?” he asks. 

Touya gives him a glance, laughing. The laugh is–a little bit wrong, though, and Hawks thinks he’s asked the wrong question. “Yeah, you could say that,” he says flatly, in a way that makes Hawks understand a little bit more. 

Natsuo looks away, and so does Fuyumi. Shouto looks down, brow furrowed. 

Touya drums his fingers on the table, drawing their gazes. “I got all my piercings courtesy of Endeavor,” he says, and he sees Natsuo’s brows raise, like he didn’t know that. Fuyumi covers her mouth in surprise. Shouto gasps. 

Hawks blinks. “Did he–approve of them?” he asks. 

“Of course not,” Touya says, smirking. “I swiped his card as an eighteenth birthday gift and got them all done at once.” 

Natsuo cackles, throwing his head back. “Touya,” he says, aghast. “I always wondered how you got the money for all of those.” 

“What was he going to do? Take the holes back out of my face?” he cackles. “He called the shop right after it charged to ask them what all I got. I let them tell him.”

Shouto’s brows are raised very slightly, his mouth slightly open, and Hawks thinks that’s his version of looking absolutely gobsmacked. Fuyumi’s got her mouth covered. 

“What did he say?” Natsuo asks. 

“Nothing, til they mentioned the tongue piercing,” he says, sticking his tongue out. 

Hawks chokes on his drink. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed the tongue piercing. Touya talks quietly for the most part, and his mouth doesn’t open very wide, so it’s–easy to miss. But he does have a little silver stud right there, and now that he knows it’s there, that knowledge is going to be burned into his brain for the rest of eternity probably. 

Natsuo laughs loudly. “Oh, man.” 

“Yeah. Then, he yelled so loudly the speaker cut out, and I told them they could probably just hang up,” he says, grinning. “Ran like hell, since he knew which shop I was at.” 

Natsuo is wheezing with laughter, and Shouto looks baffled, but… reluctantly amused, and Fuyumi looks like she’s holding back laughter as well. 

“You’re insane,” Natsuo says. 

Hawks laughs, too.

“What about you?” Touya asks, leaning on his hand. “Were you a rebellious little chick, Birdie?” he asks, and Touya’s voice makes the question entirely too alluring. 

Hawks shakes his head. “No, nothing like that,” he says, amused. “Perfect little angel in comparison. I snuck out a few times, but mostly just to go fly around,” he says, shrugging. 

Touya blinks. “That… surprises me, actually. I’d have pegged you for being a more adventurous teenager,” he muses. 

Hawks laughs. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m a pretty boring guy outside of my hero work, honestly,” he says, shrugging. 

“I feel like that’s not true,” Touya says, narrowing his eyes. Hawks feels–a little too seen under his sharp gaze, a little too watched. 

He watches Touya back, forgetting to blink as he takes in his intense stare.

Natsuo coughs delicately, and Hawks tears his gaze away. “... So! Ready to look at some highschool pictures?” he asks, grinning. 

“Right. Yeah, sure!” he says lightly. He’s probably finished eating, he thinks. He shoves the last of the food on his plate in his mouth. Shouto stands up and starts helping Fuyumi clear the table, so Hawks stands to help as well. 

“No, no, guests don’t have to help,” Fuyumi says quickly, pulling the plates out of his hands. 

Touya steps over to grab them out of hers, and she twists out of his way. “And you worked all day. Go on, get. Go sit down and show Hawks the album,” she insists. “Shouto and I can handle this.” 

Touya frowns. “Fine, fine,” he mutters. He walks off towards the livingroom, pausing to crouch down by one of the shelves. “Come on, Birdie,” he calls. 

Hawks flits over to his side, curious. There are mostly books, but at the bottom, he sees a few binders, labeled. One has ‘Touya’ on the side. Touya grabs it, then gives Hawks a sidelong look with a long-suffering sigh. 

“Fair warning, the first few pages are probably going to be… fucking depressing,” he grumbles. 

Hawks glances back and sees that Natsuo has moved to help them clear up as well, leaving them mostly alone. 

“... Is that why…?” he asks, tilting his head toward the kitchen. 

“Yeah. They’re leaving me to explain as much as I want to, I guess,” he says with a sigh. 

“You don’t have to,” Hawks says. “We can skip straight to the highschool ones. You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to.” 

Touya glances up at him, brows furrowed in thought. “... I think I want to explain,” he says thoughtfully. “At least some of it. If you want to know.” 

Hawks nods, sitting down at the low coffee table in front of the couch. 

Touya flips open the photo album, and the very first photo is a small baby with a crop of vibrant red hair and turquoise eyes that are so unmistakably Touya’s that Hawks coos. 

“You’re so cute,” he says. 

Touya flushes slightly. “I was, I guess,” he says with a shrug. “Most babies are alright.” He hesitates. “... I was born to Rei and Enji Todoroki,” he says carefully. “They were married because Enji had a fire Quirk, and Rei had an ice Quirk.” He looks away from the album, drumming his fingers on the table. “It was an arranged marriage. Although she, on paper, agreed to it, I don’t know how much my mother ever actually wanted to marry him,” he says thoughtfully. 

Hawks stares at him, realizing that when he said he wanted to explain, he meant he was going to explain everything. Hawks watches him intently, focused. 

“When I was born, it was with the hope that my Quirk would be stronger than either of theirs,” he says. He flips to the next page, showing a few more baby pictures. He’s held by a woman with white hair and black eyes, looking similar in color to Natsuo, almost like Fuyumi. Enji is in a few of the photos, looking at Touya in awe. He almost looks like a doting father, but Hawks thinks that the story is… not going that way. 

He flips the page, showing him growing up, little by little, into a shaky toddler. He looks maybe two, standing on shaky legs, then a small toddler. He taps on one where he looks like a toddler, though a little bit thin and long, always pale, always small. In this photo, he has a small flare of blue fire in his hand, staring at it in awe. “When I turned four,” he says, and Hawks stares at the photo in shock. The child in it looks no older than two or three at most, so small. “I got my Quirk.” 

Touya hums, tapping the picture a few more times. “... That’s probably the last time Enji was happy with me, actually,” he says with a little laugh. “At first, he was thrilled. It was strong, Birdie. My flames were hotter than his were, by a lot, even when I was that young. The problem was that I wasn’t stronger than he was,” he says, looking away. His eyes are distant, hazy. “I kept burning.” 

Hawks feels sick for a moment at the implication. 

“My body didn’t want to work with my Quirk for some reason. We thought, my father and I, I mean, thought that maybe I could just power through it. We trained for a few years, trying to condition my body to just… get over it,” he says with a little laugh. “I burned for a few years. Trying to just… stop burning.” He flips to the next page. The small Touya on that page is grinning widely, a small white strip in his hair, a bandage peeking out of his shirt, an arm tossed around a younger Fuyumi. “In the meantime, my father kept trying for a better option, though I didn’t realize at the time that’s what he was doing. He was training me, so I thought… I guess I thought they just loved each other, and that Fuyumi and Natsuo were products of that. I was blind,” he says, laughing bleakly. “I didn’t understand what love was. I’d never felt it. I guess I thought they had to love each other, because that’s what parents do, isn’t it?” 

Hawks wishes he knew what to say right now. Wishes he could say anything. He can’t, though. He just… stares. 

Touya flips the page, and Touya is bandaged more, both arms, one on his face, his arms around Natsuo and Fuyumi, still grinning widely like he’s not burning himself into ash. 

“Shouto came, and… well, he was the better option,” he says quietly. “... I wanted to be mad. I was mad, at first. Furious. I went into his room, and I was ready to toss him out the window, I think,” he says with a small little laugh that sounds anything but amused. “But when I looked down at him, he grabbed my finger and stared at me, and… it wasn’t his fault, you know? I couldn’t… blame him. Even when I wanted to. It was my fault. I wasn’t strong enough. We finally went to the doctor, and they figured out why I kept burning. My body is like Rei’s,” he says, sighing. “Designed for ice. I’m colder than normal, designed for snow and ice. I’m not even heat resistant, let alone fireproof,” he says, chuckling. He glances at Hawks, and Hawks takes the opportunity to put a hand on his knee, to squeeze it lightly, to offer some comfort. 

Touya’s breath hitches slightly. 

“It’s… fine. I work around it,” he says, shrugging. 

“... Comet,” Hawks says slowly. “A ball of ice… that’s on fire.” Hawks covers his mouth, because he gets it now. Touya had never answered any reporters who asked why he chose his hero name, but… “That’s why, isn’t it?” he asks. 

Touya smiles slightly. “Yeah,” he says. “It’ll probably kill me one day. I’m not really… made to last, y’know?” he says, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine with that. But… you should probably know. Don’t want you to get attached to something temporary,” he says with a little snort. 

Hawks stares at him, and those six little words send his world careening for a moment. 

It’ll probably kill me one day. 

Touya says it so casually, like it’s a matter of course. Touya is a pro-hero, and Hawks knows that his dying is a probability, but that’s one thing. The chance that Touya will die at his own hand, because of his own Quirk, through something that Hawks has no control over, no way to stop? That’s something entirely different. 

That’s unacceptable. 

“... No,” he says, shaking his head. “We’ll find something. There has to be some way,” he says firmly. 

Touya leans back slightly, tilting his head. “Some way to… what?” he asks. 

“Some way for you to use your Quirk without–dying,” he says, stilted. 

Touya blinks. “I mean... I have support items. My hero costume mitigates a lot of the risk,” he says, waving his hand. “But… there’s only so much that can be done, Hawks.” 

“We’ll keep looking, then,” he says stubbornly. “We’ll find something better.” 

He stares. “... We, huh?” he repeats quietly. 

Hawks looks away, back down to the album, swallowing. “I will, anyway. If you decide to look, too, so be it,” he says, shrugging. He smirks at him, trying to find his footing again, trying to get control of the situation again. 

Touya raises a brow. “So be it,” he agrees, his voice even and flat, betraying absolutely nothing. He leans forward slightly, into Hawks’ space, their faces just an inch or two apart. “I suppose I have no choice but to let you, then, do I?” 

Hawks can’t breathe. Touya is so close, his eyes burning with some storm of emotions that Hawks can’t even begin to untangle. 

“... Nope,” he agrees. 

And then Natsuo coughs from the doorway, and Hawks’ wings flare out in surprise so hard that he knocks the album off of the table, smacks his wing into the couch, and Touya jumps back back about a foot. 

“... Almost ready with those pictures?” he asks, brows raised, a little smirk on his face. 

Touya slowly turns to glare at him.

“Yep!” Hawks chirps, seizing the album with both hands to thrust it at Touya. “Ready when you are! Highschool Touya, please and thank you!” he says, his voice cracking. 

Shouto shuffles out, coming to sit on the couch, and Fuyumi comes out behind him. Touya flips through to a grumpy looking Touya in a militant-looking Shiketsu uniform. 

“Oh, the hat,” Fuyumi coos. 

Hawks coos with her, leaning closer to look.

Touya is adorable in his uniform, slouchy and small, hitting a growth spurt somewhere in his first year and getting all gangly through his second before putting on enough muscle to look how he looks now. 

He notices that the bandages on Touya start off heavy, but slowly decrease over the years, too as he finds the support items, as he learns his Quirk better. 

There’s a teenager in almost every photo with Touya for the first two years, a slouched man with dry skin, red eyes, and soft blue hair, always wearing thick gloves, never smiling. Touya isn’t smiling in most of them, either, but he does always look–content, particularly when he’s looking at the other teenager. 

No one asks who it is, so Hawks assumes it’s probably Tenko. After the second year, Tenko vanishes from all of the photos, and Touya's smile is gone, too. His face is flat and blank throughout most of the third-year photos. 

“Tada, embarrass Touya hours are over now,” he says, coming to the end of the album, rolling his eyes. He flips it shut. 

Hawks grins. “Worth,” he says. 

Touya stretches his arms over his head. “Alright. Time to get the brat to bed. You headed out, Hawks?” he asks, eyeing him. 

Shouto tilts his head. “Is he going to have a sleepover, too?” he asks. 

Hawks chokes at the thought of a sleepover with Touya, especially after Touya maybe-almost-kissed-him, waving his hands. “Nope! No, no, I’m going to head home. Thank you for dinner, though!” 

Touya smirks slightly. “Alright, Birdie. I’ll walk you out. Shouto, you go get ready for bed,” he says sternly, pointing. 

Shouto nods, heading toward the bathroom. Touya pushes off the ground, following Hawks to the door. Hawks trades out the slippers for his boots, and Touya follows him out to the doorstep, shutting the door behind them. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Hawks repeats awkwardly. 

“You already said that,” Touya says, leaning against the doorjamb. 

“... Right. Yeah. Well, then, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow?” he offers. 

Touya hums. “Magazine and interview are coming out tomorrow, yeah?” he asks. 

Hawks nods. “I’ll bring a few copies by Gunhead’s if you’re working?” he asks. 

Touya nods. “That’ll work. See you tomorrow, then,” he says, tipping Hawks’ own two-finger salute to him with a little smirk. 

Hawks laughs, kicking off to fly home, feeling entirely too warm.

Chapter Text

Touya knows he doesn’t love like normal people. Natsuo wasn’t wrong about that. He’s been resisting the quicksand pull of his feelings for Hawks with all of his might because, well… 

Hawks is too good for him. 

Loving Hawks is a good way to get hurt, and he… doesn’t want to get hurt. 

Despite how it may seem, Touya isn’t actually much of a masochist. He doesn’t like pain; he’s just used to it. He’s been making the conscious decision not to love Hawks as much as he can because he doesn’t want to. 

The closest his control comes to snapping, the closest he comes to sliding off of the ledge is when Hawks’ intense, earnest stare locks on his face, and he says, “We’ll keep looking, then. We’ll find something better,” like they’re a unit, like it’s them against the problem of his Quirk that’s going to kill him, like Touya isn’t alone in this problem that’s been plaguing him, and doesn’t even think to suggest that Touya stop using his Quirk, because he knows that to stop being a hero is another kind of death to Touya. 

It’s like Hawks is trying to drag him over the ledge with both hands. 

It’s close, but Natsuo interrupts the moment, and Touya is able to compose himself, to bring himself back under control, to remind himself of all of the reasons that he is not in love with Hawks, and why it would not work. 

But he’s told him the Big Secret, and Hawks isn’t repulsed. So, they can at least be friends. That’s allowed, and that’s all Touya will allow. 

Besides, he has bigger problems right now. Like the fact that he just woke up and he has over fifty missed calls and seventy missed texts. 

“What the hell,” he mutters, clicking into his threads. His phone rings again.

Flaming Asshole is calling . . . 

He declines it, clicking into his texts. 

Flaming Asshole - 07:32
Touya, I have no idea what you think you were doing with that interview.
You said several things that were out of line. We need to talk IMMEDIATELY. Call me back.

He blinks. They haven’t talked in almost four years, since he needed signatures to get Shouto into middle school. Why would he call him back now? He clicks into the other texts. 

'Tsuo - 08:12
Dad’s blowing up everyone’s phones. We all blocked him, but you might want to, too
Interview is uh.
Pretty popular, bro 

Touya sits up, frowning. He checks the time. It’s about eleven. He slept in because he doesn’t have work until one. He’s starting to think that was… a mistake. He drags over his laptop, navigating over to the Hero Passion! website and pulls up the homepage. The interview is on the homepage. 

Exclusive!! Teamup Interview with No. 6 Hero Hawks and No. 49 Hero Comet! 

He clicks the video. It’s a full forty-nine minutes long–it looks like they barely cut anything at all. He lets it play in the background while he scrolls through the comments. 

cometcometcometchameleon : oh. my. god. this man is a god, actually? where has he been all my life? he’s my new fave pro hero. those eyes. those muscles. those legs. yes please. 

hawkswindsbneathmywings : do you SEE how hawks looks @ comet the whole interview? mans is in LOVE. i feel like i need to look away. i feel like im intruding. im sorry for looking @ your mans mr hawks 

herosrus234 : I can’t believe Comet has stayed out of the public eye for so long! He has such well-formed, strong opinions! And that look into the camera while he was talking? (⸝⸝๑  ̫ ๑⸝⸝⸝)

thegreenestbeans : What a great interview! I loved the analysis on team-ups! Comet clearly knows what he’s talking about, and his assessment on how to scout out a scene was really well thought-out; he’s clearly a really great asset to the hero community. I’ve seen a few articles on him, and I’m glad we’re getting to see more of him in the public eye, even if he has a point that being in the public eye isn’t always necessarily the BEST thing; he mak… [ see more ] 

Touya clicks ‘see more’ and it loads twenty-seven more paragraphs, then clocks out the website. He blinks. He swaps over to a new page and opens Twitter. That’s… worse. He has so many notifications that he almost doesn’t want to look.

He searches @officialproherocomet to get an overview. 

@officialproherocomet lit every single fire in my soul with that little fire click he did, i mean HELLO?????????? 

so, we were all just looking at that leg pose @officialproherocomet was doing, right? like the leggy up thing comet was doing the WHOLE interview? and the way hawks was looking at the leggy up thing comet was doing the WHOLE interview? we all saw that, right?

@officialproherohawks says comet has “roguish good looks” and @officialproherocomet literally looks like his soul leaves his body right here. do you guys see this shit this is the best moment of my life. i need these two to do interviews together forever, they have more chemistry than my science homework

@officialproherohawks and @officialproherocomet are like… 100% fucking, right? We all saw that with our eyes? That was 100% happening? I mean JEEEEEEEESUS look at this magazine spread

Touya clicks into the pictures on this one, and his face heats up. It’s… 

Yeah, it’s a little intimate. There are four different pictures. The first one is of Touya leaning over Hawks, and he hadn’t realized quite how much he was holding Hawks’ hair, how his hand was gripping the strands, or how intense his gaze was, looking into the camera. It almost looks like he’s staking a claim, saying ‘this one is mine’ Hawks is–no better. His chin is tipped up, his head tilted back toward Touya, his eyes focused on him instead of the camera, a little smirk on his lips like it’s all a game, and he’s winning. 

The second one is the reverse, Touya on his knees, half lounging, half kneeling, arms crossed. Hawks is grinning down at him, like he’s pleased to be taller for once, and Touya is looking up at him with a challenge in his eyes, his gaze just as intense from the floor as it was while he was standing. 

The next one is the photo where they shook hands, Hawks grinning widely, leaning into his space, while Touya rolled his eyes, chin tipped slightly away, radiating playful irritation. 

The last one is the most damning, though. At first glance, Touya looks like he has Hawks’ wings, but a second glance shows Hawks’ intense, possessive gaze just over his shoulder. His visor is gone, Touya realizes–he hadn’t realize he’d taken it off for that shot, but his eyes are on full display, glaring into the camera as if daring someone to try to take Touya from him, his arms wrapped around him as if to stake a claim. 

If Touya’s first picture said mine, this one says mine and only mine. 

He rubs a hand across his face, then flips open his phone and scrolls through all of his calls and texts. Nothing from Hawks. He clicks on his contacts and hits ‘call’. 

“Comet!” Hawks says immediately. He always picks up immediately. 

“Hawks,” he croaks. “Your photographer made everyone think we’re–we’re…” He hesitates. 

“Hm? Oh, did it already release? Hang on, I’ll put you on speaker, I’ve been on patrol all morning…” He clicks a button, and Touya can suddenly hear the wind through the speaker. 

“Are you flying right now?” he asks. 

“Yeah! Hang on, I’m finding a roof.” 

“Don’t run into a pole, Birdie,” he mutters. 

“I literally have never.” 

“Particularly clear window?” 

“... Shut up.” 

He lets out a tense laugh. 

“Okay, here. Let me look,” he says. He hears tapping. And then some more tapping. And then some more tapping. “Oooh.” 

“That’s it? Ooooh?” Touya bites out. 

“What? They’re good pics!” Hawks says, laughing. 

“Hawks,” he complains, flopping back against his pillows. “Half of Twitter thinks we’re…” he coughs. “ Together,” he says. 

“Oh!” Hawks says, then laughs louder. “Yeah, that’ll happen.” 

“... What.”

“Yeah, no, that’s normal. That happens like… every time I’m in a shoot with someone,” he says. “The internet is just… like that. Every time two heroes breathe next to each other, they’re definitely fucking. It’s a thing. It’ll blow over.” 

“Oh,” Touya says, huffing. “... You could’ve warned me,” he says sourly. 

“I didn’t think about it! It happens to everyone,” he says. “I just kind of thought you knew.” 

“Ugh. I don’t do this often. This tweet says ‘I want Comet to split me open sternum to belly button using his jaw’, Hawks. I will literally never be able to forget reading that,” he hisses. “I don’t even know what that means, but I am viscerally uncomfortable.” 

Hawks cackles, because he’s the worst. “Oh, you can’t tell me you weren’t getting thirst tweets before, number forty-nine,” he teases. 

“A few! But nothing like this,” he says. He has a small core group of fans; most of them are fairly respectful, at least from what he’s seen. “There are obviously some insane people in the world who think I’m–sexy or whatever–but not to this degree,” he says, distressed. 

There’s a beat of silence. “I’m sorry, what? ” Hawks squawks, laughing incredulously. “Do you think people have to be insane to find you sexy, Comet?” 

Touya doesn’t answer for a long moment, because he’s not sure how to. Of course he does. He looks like he’s dead most of the time, exhausted, too-pale, too gangly, and too burned to be anything else. He guesses he’s too covered for anyone to see the last part, and the make up department did well enough covering up the first parts, so maybe that’s why. 

“Touya,” Hawks says, his voice stern, and Touya’s entire body tenses at the sound of Hawks saying his name. He realizes he–doesn’t know Hawks’. He thinks of his ID, the blank spot on it. He couldn’t say it back even if he wanted to. The imbalance feels–impossible. There’s so much he doesn’t know about Hawks.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t call me Touya,” he says. “Not unless I can know your name.” 

Not unless I can know why you don’t have one.

It goes unspoken.

There’s a long pause, charged with something, and Touya wishes desperately that he could see Hawks’ face. 

“... Alright,” Hawks says finally. 

Touya lets out a breath. “... I’ll talk to you later, Hawks,” he says flatly. 

“Good bye, Comet.”

He hangs up, setting his phone aside, and throws his arm over his face. He huffs a sigh. His phone buzzes and he hits accept without looking. 

“What, Birdie? Change your mind already?” he grumbles. 

“Touya, this is unacceptable,” his father’s voice snaps through the phone. 

Touya’s entire body locks up. 

“You can’t speak so freely in interviews like that–have you learned nothing from school, from training? And what in God’s name was that photoshoot? Are you trying to bring shame to–” 

Touya jabs the button to hang up, his breathing haggard and uneven. He clicks through, blocking the number with shaking hands, and throws his phone across the room. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” he whispers, curling up on his side, the phantom feeling of burning skin wracking through his body, the demands of try harder; you’re just not strong enough yet echoing through his mind. There’s a soft knock on his door. He doesn’t answer, and it clicks open. 

“Touya?” Natsuo asks. “You good, dude? Heard something hit the wall.” 

“Fine,” he chokes out. 

“... Don’t sound fine,” Natsuo says, walking over and sitting down next to him. “What’s up?” 

He curls up tighter, putting his hands over his face. “... Hit accept on the wrong call,” he manages. 

“Ah. Shit,” Natsuo says eloquently. 

“Shit,” Touya agrees. 

“Touch? No touch?” Natsuo checks. 

“No touch,” Touya hisses, cringing away. 

“No touch,” Natsuo agrees. “Breathe with me?” he says. 

Touya nods, and Natsuo counts him through some breathing exercises. 

… Touya loves his siblings, sometimes. 

This is one of those times. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

By the time he’s relaxed again, Natsuo is lounging against his wall, looking at his phone. Touya doesn’t like being stared at while he freaks the fuck out, so he appreciates this. 

“Better?” Natsuo asks. 

“Yeah. Thanks,” he mutters, sitting up. 

“No problem. Wanna talk ‘bout it?” he asks. 

Touya considers for a moment, then runs a hand over his face. “No. But I probably should,” he says with a sigh. “... That interview was probably a mistake, huh?” he asks. 

Natsuo shrugs. “Not really. It’s good exposure, I think,” he says. “You’ll definitely go up in the rankings. And the money was pretty good.” 

Touya nods. “... That’s true,” he mutters. The money was good. It had been roughly three paychecks worth just for the one damn interview. Hawks hadn’t even acted like it was that much. He guesses that’s the difference between the top ten and the rest of the world. He takes a deep breath. “Hawks offered me a position at his agency,” he says. 

Natsuo pauses, his thumb hovering over his phone. “... Do you want to work with him?” he asks. 

“I don’t know. It probably pays more,” he says, pulling his knees to his chest. “It’s a better route. He says he thinks we’d work well together. But…” He hesitates, tilting his head forward so his forehead is in his knees. 

“But?” Natsuo prompts. 

“I’m… I don’t want to like Hawks,” he admits. 

A pause. Touya glances at him, and Natsuo’s face is screwed up in confusion. “What do you mean you don’t want to? Do you not already like him?”

Touya huffs a laugh. “No, probably not. I’m… keeping a lid on it. It would be easy, I think. Too easy. I would just have to… let go,” he says, tipping his head back. “It really is like falling, isn’t it?” he asks, laughing bleakly. “I feel like I’m climbing, dragging myself up a wall without any gear trying not to fall, ‘Tsuo. It’s… hard.” 

Natsuo nods slowly. “... Why are you trying so hard?” he asks cautiously. 

“He would never love me,” Touya replies easily. “I don’t have time to fall apart. Not when I need to take care of Shouto. Getting hurt like that… I don’t know if I have it in me again. I’m not sure how I’d come out of it, and Shouto needs all of us right now.” 

Natsuo hums, looking deep in thought. “That’s fair,” he says thoughtfully. “I know you… love hard. But I don’t know that I would say that he would never love you,” he points out. “I think you’re sabotaging yourself because you don’t want to get hurt.” 

Touya shrugs. “Maybe. All kind of pans out the same, doesn’t it?” 

Natsuo sighs heavily. “... I really hate that you do that,” he says quietly. 

Touya looks over at him, hunching his shoulders. “... Do what?” he asks. 

“Not–give yourself a chance. Ever,” he says, waving his hand. “Because of us. You know, we can take care of Shouto, too. It’s not all on you. I get it. It was when you first left home with us. We were all kind of helpless. But you’re not alone anymore, you know? ‘Yumi’s got a job, and I’m graduating soon. I’ve got a job lined up. You could do something for yourself, you know.” 

Touya looks away. “I don’t know how to… do that,” he says quietly. 

“I know. But you could learn,” he says, frowning. “I don’t know if Hawks is the one to take a chance on, but I want you to take a chance on something. We all do. Just… try. We don’t have to be your whole world, Touya. You grew up too fast for us.” 

“We all grew up too fast,” he says with a sigh.

“‘Yumi’s seeing someone,” Natsuo says. 

“... What?” Touya blurts. 

“Yeah. I just… It’s not out of the question, you know? If she can–” he says. 

“No, hang on, who is ‘Yumi seeing?” he demands. 

Natsuo laughs. “Oh, are we doing the big brother inquisition?” 

“Yes, obviously,” Touya says, leaning forward. “Why didn’t she say?” 

“Because you’d do this, I imagine,” Natsuo says. “And because it’s a pro-hero,” he adds slyly. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “God. Which one?” 

“Tensei Iida. Ingenium, I guess,” he says. 

“No,” Touya says, dropping his head into his hands. “He’s so… enthusiastic. How did they even meet?” he demands. 

“He ran into her and knocked some things out of her hands at the store. Real meet-cute,” Natsuo says, amused. 

“Kill me,” Touya groans. “He’s not coming to dinner.” 

“We’re inviting all the Todoroki crushes to dinner,” Natsuo objects. “We have to. It’s a requirement.” 

“Ugh. Life is a nightmare, actually,” he mutters. He squints at Natsuo. “Are you dating? Do I have to worry about you, too?” he demands. 

Natsuo snorts. “I haven’t had the time. I’ll date after I get across the stage.” 

Touya sighs in relief. “Thank God. You’re all scattering like cats,” he grumbles. 

“You know we’re not your children, right?” Natsuo asks, laughing. “You don’t have to parent us.” 

Touya shrugs. “Sure, I guess.” It feels like it, though. Touya’s felt responsible for them for years. He took care of Fuyumi and Natsuo when Enji forgot they existed. He learned to sew so he could repair Fuyumi’s stuffed animals when they ripped, bandaged knees when they fell down, wiped tears when they cried, made food when his mother was too out of it to remember and his father was too absent to do so, forged signatures for permission slips, did everything he could to make sure they could have lives. 

Shouto was usually kept apart, and the hatred and rage at taking Touya’s place as Enji’s favorite had… festered. Touya was ashamed of the things he did to try to earn Enji’s approval. By the time he was ten, he had a myriad of scars across his torso, across his back and chest. 

One day, when Enji was preparing the training room between sessions, Touya was bandaging his burns. Shouto was alone–one of the rare times he was left by himself near Touya. Shouto was only about three or four. He had walked over on unsteady legs, leaned forward, and kissed the bandages with all of the seriousness a small child could muster, his gaze intense. 

“All better?” he’d asked, tilting his head. 

All the hatred, all the resentment, all the blame he’d held toward Shouto for existing had just… melted. It wasn’t Shouto’s fault. 

Shouto was just a child, and so was Touya. 

Touya knew he couldn’t let Shouto stay in that house forever. He couldn’t let him learn to hate, couldn’t let them all… warp, like he’d felt himself start to. He could see the end of that path so clearly, could see the destruction and pain it would cause all of them, and… Shouto didn’t deserve that.

So, he started to plan. 

He started to sneak Shouto food when Enji denied it to him, and started to sneak in just to see him, to play small games with him and make sure he wasn’t always alone. He stored money any way he could, and quietly promised them that he would get them out the second he could. 

And then he did. The day he turned eighteen, he distracted Enji with a fake emergency call, and they all packed a bag and fled. He left evidence he’d collected on the table of Shouto’s bruises, of his own burns, of Fuyumi and Natsuo’s neglect in a neat little folder with a note that said it was just one copy, and if he tried to take them back from him, it would all go public. 

Some days, he wanted to do it anyway. 

But… Shouto didn’t need that cloud over him. Shouto was a private person. He didn’t want his entire life to be public like that, and he’d never asked for Touya to release it. They all knew they would never win in a proper court case–none of them could afford a lawyer that would prosecute Endeavor, and doing so would be the same thing as publishing all the information anyway. 

It was maddening, but there was a delicate balance. He was… not exactly free, but not trapped, either. In an eternal stalemate, more like. Enji could never take them back, but he still had power over them. He still technically had legal guardianship over Shouto, and still had the ability to show up at his school. He never actually did, but Shouto confided once that the possibility made him… tense. 

Natsuo leans down to look at his face, frowning at whatever he sees there. “... You know,” he says slowly. “I don’t know if I ever… really thanked you, actually. For what you did,” he says. 

Touya leans back, tense. “Don’t,” he says quickly. “You don’t need to.” 

“I do,” Natsuo insists. 

“You don’t. It…” He sighs, frustrated. “I couldn’t leave you guys.” 

“You could have, actually. Easily,” Natsuo disagrees. He reaches out, patting his knee. “Thanks for… not leaving us.” 

Touya looks away. “... Whatever,” he mumbles. “Get your degree and become a fantastic doctor and that’ll be thanks enough.” 

Natsuo laughs. “Done,” he agrees easily. 

“Alright, that’s–enough emotions for the year. Get out of my face, I’m done,” Touya says, waving his hands. 

Natsuo snickers, getting to his feet. “Alright, alright. I’m going to go make something for lunch. You going to eat?” 

Touya shrugs. “Maybe. I’m going to shower, then we’ll see where we’re at.” 

“Sounds good.” He ruffles his hair, then leaves the room. 

Touya picks up his phone, clicking into Hawks’ thread with a huff. 

☄Comet ☄ - 11:30
My sister is dating Ingenium, apparently.

Hawks - 11:31
sorry, come again?
ingenium, as in pro hero ingenium, is dating FUYUMI? 

☄Comet ☄ - 11:33
Yes. Apparently they ran into each other and hit it off. Life is a nightmare. 

Hawks - 11:33
WELL.
alright then. get it ‘yumi
… when is he coming to dinner? 

☄Comet ☄ - 11:35
He isn’t. No Ingenium dinner. Not everyone has to come to dinner, you know.
It’s not a requirement. 

Hawks - 11:35
it kind of feels like a todoroki requirement at this point ngl
lil ‘roki stamp of approval
vaguely attracted to a todoroki who’s vaguely attracted to you? BAM, dinner plans
get snacked, fool 

☄Comet ☄ - 11:38
Are you implying that you’re attracted to me?

Hawks - 11:39
i like that you’re not denying that youre attracted to ME 

☄Comet ☄ - 11:40
All of Japan is attracted to you, Hawks. That’s not news.

Hawks - 11:41
ksajldksjdfgkjdfg
afkjldjlskjfgslkfjgmvcxvpowergjslfkg
klsdmvcxnq0jflksfa094urewijofdlnskmf

☄Comet ☄ - 11:43
… Did you just die?

Hawks - 11:43
yes

☄Comet ☄ - 11:44
I see. Rest in peace.

Touya rolls his eyes, tucking his phone away. Honestly. Attracted. Hawks is obviously attractive. Anyone with eyes can see that. It’s barely a consideration. He was voted one of the sexiest men in Japan just this year, for Christ’s sake. 

Touya can keep his hands to himself, as long as Hawks can keep his unbearably sweet comments and earnest declarations of partnership and love to himself. It seems like a reasonable and fair request, frankly. 

He rolls his eyes heading off to get ready for the day. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Walking toward Gunhead’s office is… a trial, actually. 

People recognize him. 

“Comet!” someone calls, waving, and he waves back. Not unusual. But then it happens again. And again. And again. Seven people come up to him for autographs, four of which want him to sign the magazine. Two are flipped to solo photos he hasn’t seen yet–one of the photos is of him on the bench, his arm out to the camera, a small smirk on his face like he’s beckoning, and it makes his face burn. There’s a quote on that page, and it’s a two-page spread. 

Do what you need to do, the best you can. It’s the only way you won’t regret anything later. -Comet, No. 49 Hero is emblazoned across both pages above him. 

“Can you sign beneath the quote?” the girl asks breathlessly, offering him a turquoise marker. He nods, signing his usual signature, then heats his hand very slightly, drying the ink before offering it back.

“There you go,” he mumbles. 

She squeaks, watching the motion, takes the magazine, and flees. Touya’s very nearly late at this rate, but he does manage to slide in on time. Gunhead is standing in the lobby, arms crossed, a few sidekicks roaming around. 

Gunhead is holding one of the stupid magazines. 

Ugh. 

Touya runs a hand over his face. “... I didn’t think it would be this much of a thing,” he grumbles immediately. 

Gunhead bursts into laughter immediately. “It’s fine, it’s fine! You’re not in trouble or anything. It’s great–you needed some good attention. But we should probably talk in my office for a few minutes,” he says. 

Great.

He nods, following him toward the office at the back of the lobby. The entire agency has a traditional dojo feel to it, and Gunhead’s office is no different–it’s traditional, small, and fairly relaxing overall. 

Gunhead sits down behind his desk, and Touya sits down in front of it, pulling his leg up into the chair, wrapping an arm around it.

“Sooooo,” Gunhead says, long and drawn-out. “Hawks, huh.” 

Touya bristles. “What about him.” 

He laughs again. “Come on, kid. I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

Touya looks away. “I’m a professional, Gunhead. You don’t need to do this.” 

Gunhead tilts his head. His mask covers his entire face, but Touya can tell he’s–surprised. “I’m not doubting that, Comet. You’re not getting pulled off your route or anything. I told you you’re not in trouble. But I did want to talk to you. You’re less than a month into your contract.” 

“You’re worried that Hawks said he wanted me for his agency,” Touya says flatly. 

“Not worried,” Gunhead corrects. “Let me finish.” 

Touya makes a ‘go on’ gesture. 

“... Endeavor has been requesting to buy out your contract since your second week here. I’ve said no. I’ll keep saying no. But I’ll be real, I’m not sure why you’re here, Comet,” he says, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re great to have. And I’m not complaining. Your paperwork is stellar, your stats are an asset, and if you want to stay here, I’ll make it happen. But I’m fifty-third on the hero board, Comet. And after this, you’re going to be much higher,” he says, tapping the magazine. “You’re going to have a lot more opportunities at Hawks’ agency than you are at mine.” 

“... Are you saying you want to let Endeavor buy out my contract so I can move to Hawks’ agency?” he asks, incredulous. 

It’s–not something he’s supposed to do. The last few times his contract was bought, it was with the implicit understanding that he would be going to Endeavor’s agency afterwards, because Majestic and Manual didn’t quite understand that he wouldn’t be doing that. They had congratulated him on the great opportunity and presented the job offer as a nice surprise, then were shocked when he turned it down, admitting they’d already sold his contract and wouldn’t have a position for him anymore. Takeshita hadn’t much cared where he went afterwards–Endeavor had offered him enough money that it was worth whatever came next, apparently.

Accepting a contract buy out and then not moving on to the agency that bought out your contract on purpose is… not great. Touya is already mad he’s had to do it so many times. It doesn’t look great for him, and there’s no doubt that Endeavor knows that. It’s only the fact that his stats are so good and that he’s a genuinely good hero that’s been able to land him at new agencies so far. 

Gunhead snorts. “I would never say that. That would be unethical. I’m just pointing out that if you wanted to move agencies, someone is offering to buy out your contract,” he says with a shrug. “What you do after that is none of my business. I think you’d have the chance to be a proper hero partner at Hawks’ agency. But that’s just my opinion,” he says, holding up his hands. “I dunno what you two have going on behind closed doors. You have your own decisions to make. I’m just letting you know that I can help.” 

Touya nods slowly. “... Alright. I’ll… consider it,” he says quietly. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

He does consider it. He’s been considering it. He’s filling out paperwork for the last few arrests, and some for one of the interns he had shadowing him briefly at his desk when Guardian comes by his desk, pausing. He’s been working for a while now, and his patience is already a little frayed by early evening. 

She’s worked with Gunhead for a while; she has a shield Quirk that makes her great at defense, but she’s also great at creating them and then moving them to slam villains around. He admires her creativity, if nothing else. Her hero costume is medieval themed, with metal armor accents. Her hair tumbles down her back in bright blue tresses, the same color as her shields. Her eyes are bright blue, too, focused on him. 

“... Soooooo,” she says, drumming her fingers on his desk. “That magazine article was.” She waves her hand in front of herself like a fan. “Like, my God.”

Touya shrugs. “It was alright. Hawks is professional,” he says, flipping to the next page to fill out the progress report to the intern. 

“Comet, please. Details. I need them. That last picture? He was literally wrapped around you,” she begs, crouching down to his level. “You guys are totally a thing, right?” 

He arches a brow. “No,” he says. “The photographer directed all of the poses.” 

Guardian’s brows raise. “Really? Then you’re single?” 

Touya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because if I’m not dating Hawks, I must be dating absolutely no one?” he asks flatly. 

“Well, no, not necessarily. But I’m fishing, Comet,” she says, smirking. “This is where you give me a bite.” 

“Or tell you that I’m entirely uninterested?” he counters easily. He’s known since he was very young that women hold absolutely no sway for him. 

“Ouch! No survivors. You’re so harsh to a lady,” she complains. 

He rolls his eyes, then glances up as the front door to the agency opens. His desk is out in the open, along with a few of the other newer employees’ desks, so he sees Hawks as he walks in, hands in his pockets, looking casual as ever. He flicks his gaze back to Guardian, assuming Hawks is probably here for some business with Gunhead. 

“I’m not harsh; I’m direct. You said you watched the interview,” he replies dryly. 

“That I did. I do love the update to your costume–the makeup is…” She purrs at him, and that’s uncomfortable. “It makes your eyes look really good. I wouldn’t be surprised if you get voted sexiest hero in Japan next year at this rate.” 

Touya shifts in his seat, looking at his papers. “That would be odd,” he muses. “I’ve never been nominated, so I’m not sure that would be a consideration.” 

“You weren’t so on the radar before! It’s different now,” she says, grinning, leaning forward. “You sure you’re not interested? I could–” 

“Comet,” Hawks says, his voice–flat. Touya glances up, blinking. Hawks usually sounds more jovial than that.

“Hawks,” he returns, raising a brow. Hawks looks–annoyed, his brows furrowed, his eyes intense. 

He flicks his intense gaze over to Guardian, his brows lifting, and his lips pull back into something like a smile. It’s… not one, though, it’s more of a baring of teeth. “Who’s this?” he asks, his voice light and airy. His wings twitch, a little flick and Touya thinks it’s–almost irritated. 

“Guardian. She’s worked here a while,” Touya introduces, confused by… what’s happening right now. 

“Guardian,” Hawks repeats, not taking his eyes off of her, his smile still distinctly unfriendly. “Lovely to meet you! I’m Hawks. Number Six Pro-Hero,” he says, putting slight emphasis on it, his head tilting. He hasn’t blinked once. “Do you mind if I steal Comet for a few minutes?” 

Guardian stares at him for a moment, leaning back. “S-Sure,” she says, stepping away, hands lifted. “He’s all yours.” She turns, skittering off into the agency, and Touya watches her go for a moment, before looking back to Hawks with a frown. 

“What the hell was that?” he hisses. 

Hawks blinks. “What?” he asks. 

“You just–postured. Or something,” he says, waving his hand. “Do you not like her for some reason?” 

Hawks shrugs. “I dunno, she’s probably fine. Anyway, I came to see you,” he says, grinning. This one looks more like his proper smile, sunny and pleased. 

Touya squints at him, debating whether he should let it go before deciding he doesn’t care. “What do you want, Hawks?” 

Hawks pauses, looking vaguely thrown. “I said I was going to come see you today,” he says. He pulls out a few copies of the magazine, dropping them on his desk. “These got dropped off by my agency, so I brought over a few for you.” 

Touya groans. “Ugh. I don’t want to see anymore of those,” he mutters. “People had me sign some on the way in.” 

“Someone had me sign one on the way to the office, too!” Hawks chirps, looking pleased. “They included a pretty good spread in there. The rest are on the website.” 

“They’re all on there?” Touya asks, brows raised. 

“Yep,” he says, grinning. 

Touya sighs, dragging over the magazine to flip through it. He didn’t actually look to see which solo shot they picked for Hawks. “Did you see the solo shot they picked for me? I look like an idiot,” he says, snorting. He flips past it. Hawks’ solo shot is, unsurprisingly, the one where he’s in his signature Hawks pose, his wings unfurled to their full length, his feet off the ground, his hands on his hips, grinning like the world is a game that only he knows the rules to. His quote runs along his right wing: 

Make your connections early, and keep in touch with everyone you can. You never know who you might team up with later. - Hawks, No. 6 Hero 

“You do not look like an idiot,” Hawks says intently, his wings puffing up slightly behind him. 

Touya glances up at him, brows raised. “I look like I’m falling off the bench,” he says with a snort. 

“You don’t,” he insists. “You look like you’re…” Hawks considers for a moment. “You look good,” he settles on. 

Touya rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Our duo ones don’t look horrible, I guess.” He pushes the stack over towards Hawks. “You wanna give these to Gunhead? He can decide if he wants to put them in the waiting room or not.” 

He nods. “Once I’m done with that, you should come have food with me,” Hawks says, smiling at him. 

“I’m not going to the chicken place,” he says, frowning. 

“I wouldn’t take you! There’s a soba stall I saw on the way. Babyroki likes soba, do you?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“Cold soba is Shouto’s favorite,” he clarifies, because the distinction is important to Shouto. He pauses. “... Sansai soba is mine,” he mumbles. 

Hawks brightens. “Perfect! I’ll drop these off with Gunhead and let him know I’m stealing you for lunch-slash-dinner, then,” he says. 

“Hawks,” he objects. “I don’t need–” 

“Have you already eaten?” he asks. 

“Well, no, but–” 

“Great! Then I’ll be right back,” he says, picking up the stack and vanishing into Gunhead’s office. 

Touya stares blankly at the space he occupied, feeling off-balance. Hawks appears again a few seconds later. “C’mon.” 

“Is there any point in trying to run?” Touya asks, leaning his chin on his hand. 

Hawks snickers. “Nope! I’m faster than you,” he says, ruffling his wings pridefully. 

“I feel vaguely like I’m being kidnapped,” he feels the need to point out. 

“You are,” Hawks says, delighted. “Good eye.” 

Touya sighs, standing up. He passes Gunhead’s office and pokes his head in. “Apparently, I’m going to lunch,” he says. 

“I was told,” Gunhead says, amused. “Enjoy. Be back in an hour. I’ll page you if there’s an emergency, so keep your phone up.” 

Touya gives a little two-fingered salute, then pauses, wondering when that became an actual habit as opposed to a sarcastic gesture to make fun of Hawks. He grimaces, then turns to Hawks. “You’re a bad influence,” he tells him, eyes narrowed. 

“I’ve been told that before, surprisingly,” Hawks says, his hands behind his head. He grins, leading Touya out onto the street. 

If he thought he got a lot of attention by himself, when they walk together, they get an absurd amount of attention. Touya has his hands in his pockets, and every time he starts a sentence, someone interrupts them to ask something. Either asking Hawks for an autograph, or him if he’s Comet, ‘like from the magazine,’ or just to say hi. It’s–irritating.  

“How do you do this all day, Birdie?” he asks, exhausted by the time they’ve traveled all of five minutes and managed to talk to ten people somehow. 

“I fly. I don’t have to talk to anyone in the air,” Hawks says, laughing brightly. 

“Cheater,” he grumbles. 

Hawks leads them over to a stand that’s a little open bar stand that no one is at currently. He steps in and sits down next to Hawks, taking the corner seat so no one can sit next to him. Hawks puts in an order for both of them, letting Touya sit quietly, which he… surprisingly doesn’t mind all that much. Normally it would make his hackles raise to have someone talk for him like that, but he did already tell Hawks what his favorite was, and they have it, so… He supposes he can let it go. Just this once. 

He stretches out his legs, bracing his heels against the bar at the bottom of the counter, and yawns, stretching his arms above his head. “My phone’s been blowing up all day,” he mutters, annoyed. He finally had to turn off notifications for everyone except for his family and Gunhead. 

And Hawks, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah?” Hawks asks. 

“Mmm. Endeavor seems to think he should have some say in how I interview,” he says tightly. “He reached out, then when I blocked him, he had a number of others reach out on his behalf.”

Hawks makes a little noise in sympathy. “Sorry,” he says quietly. 

“Not your fault. Any time I show up in the news, he reaches out again,” he says. … That might be another reason he avoids interviews, come to think of it. 

The clerk sets their bowls in front of them. He glances up at the nametag. Inoue. He nods in thanks, then looks down to the soba, the small pile of bamboo shoots and enoki mushrooms atop it. He mixes them into the broth, then murmurs a thanks before eating some. “S’good,” he says. 

Hawks brightens. “Isn’t it? I stopped here the other day after patrol. Their kamo nanban soba is to die for,” he says, digging into his own bowl. 

Touya eyes it. “... Is it not cannibalism because you’re not a duck?” he asks, squinting. “You eat chicken, though,” he says, mock-thoughtfully. 

“I am not a chicken,” he squawks. 

Touya huffs a laugh. 

“The doctors are reasonably sure I’m a mutant based off of a raptor bird, thank you. I’m a predator, not a chicken,” he says primly. 

Touya raises his brows. “The only people who think chickens are not predators are people who have not tried to fight chickens,” he says. 

Hawks slowly turns to look at him, tilting his head to the side. “... Comet, have you tried to fight chickens?” he asks. 

“Unwillingly,” Touya says, rolling his eyes. “Imagine, for a sec, trying to perform a rescue in the middle of a rural town with half of a farm burning down, and an old lady that will not evacuate until you rescue all twenty-six of her prized chickens. You have to gather, count, and corral twenty-six chickens by hand. You cannot fly. Your Quirk is more fire. All of the corn is on fire, and all of the chickens are actively trying to be on fire, too. The ones that aren’t trying to be on fire are trying to bite you. Every single one of them is faster than you are. Tell me you’re not going to think chickens are the devil by the end of that, Hawks. Tell me.” He slurps some soba, glaring at him pointedly.

Hawks stares at him for a moment, and then breaks out into laughter, covering his mouth. “Oh, God, I can picture it. Just… running around, a chicken under each arm…” he wheezes. 

Touya stares into the middle distance, shuddering. “So many.” 

Hawks cackles. “God. Horrible.” 

“Indeed. Your turn. I told you my most annoying rescue. What’s yours?” he asks, kicking his ankle. 

Hawks hums, thinking, then snaps his fingers. “I worked in Tokyo for a bit, and when I was an intern, there was one night when there was a threat to this club. Two forty-five am. Means I, as the new guy, have to evacuate everyone immediately. I was a fresh-faced seventeen-year-old intern trying to get one-hundred twenty-seven drunk people out of the club on a Friday night,” he says, holding up his finger. “Do you know, Comet, how much drunk people like wings?” he asks. He grins, fluffing out his wings behind him. “You know not fear until a woman on her seventh shot of tequila is determined to pet your wings.” 

Touya cackles. “They fed you to the wolves,” he says. 

“Immediately and without hesitation,” Hawks agrees.

He glances over his shoulder, seeing the flash of a lens for just a second. His eyes narrow as he sees someone tuck away a camera. 

“... Someone just took a picture of us,” he says quietly. 

“Probably,” Hawks says, not sounding like he cares all that much. 

“Isn’t that weird?” Touya presses, his eyes following the person as they move across the street. He sees a lanyard around their neck, and realizes belatedly that it says PRESS. “... Oh. It’s… Do they just… do that? We’re just eating,” he says slowly.

“Yeah. It’s a little uncomfortable,” Hawks says, shrugging. “They’re bad about following the top ten around. They weren’t so bad when I was in the thirties.” 

He pushes his bowl away, his stomach turning slightly. “... Right,” he murmurs. 

“Hey, no, eat. Don’t worry about it. You need food,” Hawks says, frowning.

Touya sighs, dragging it back to eat some more. “Fine,” he mumbles.

“You don’t eat enough,” Hawks says with a little frown. 

Touya raises a brow. “How would you know?” he asks.

Hawks looks away. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, smirking. 

“... You’re not texting my sister,” he says, a feeling of foreboding rising up at the idea of Fuyumi teaming up with Hawks to fret over him. 

“I’m not texting your sister,” he says, but his smile is too innocent. 

“... Liar,” he says, eyes narrowed. 

“I’m texting your sister and your brother,” he says, his grin widening. “They gave me their numbers when I came to dinner. Natsuo said you didn’t eat breakfast or lunch.” 

“Hawks,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You know, Natsuo has a smartphone. So does Fuyumi. I think Shouto has one, too. Why do you have a crappy flip phone again?” he muses. 

“It works. Why am I going to buy a new one when this one works fine?” he complains. “Smartphones are expensive, especially ones that stand up to the kind of heat that I generate. There’s–” 

He cuts off, grabbing his phone as it buzzes, answering it immediately.

“Emergency. Put in comms and head toward route seven.” 

“On it,” he answers, shoving off of his seat. “Route seven, Hawks,” he says, pulling out his wallet and tossing money on the bar. He puts his comms earpiece in, clicking it on. 

“... FUCK!” Havoc’s voice bursts through immediately. 

“Comet, reporting in, en route toward route seven, ETA one minute. Status report,” he says tersely. 

“Hawks, same, ETA twenty seconds,” Hawks raps out, in the air above him. 

“There’s a villain on scene with some kind of destruction Quirk,” Havoc gasps. She sounds hurt, like she’s taken a hit to the side. Someone is screaming in the background. As he rounds the corner, sprinting flat-out, he hears it in the distance outside of his comms, too. “He–shit–he grabbed Thunder Dome, and his arm is just–gone,” she says, sounding sick. 

“I’m keeping civilians out of the way, but there’s someone else here!” Rhythmic snaps into the comms. “Hawks, get here!”

“Five seconds. Play a song of obedience, Rhythmic, get them back behind the barricade,” Hawks raps out. “Safety is paramount. On site, villain in view. Blue hair, twenties, no costume. Oh, shit, that’s–”

“I know, I’m almost there,” Touya snaps. 

“Who, exactly, are you all talking to on these little comms? Bringing a second wave?” a voice asks, slightly distant. The voice is so familiar, and it makes his heart jackrabbit in his chest. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Touya hisses. God, he’s so slow. 

“Comet, don’t engage!” Hawks yells, and Touya is absolutely ignoring that order. 

Finally, he slings around the corner, and sees him.

Tenko Shimura. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

“Comet, don’t engage,” Hawks barks uselessly. His heart is thundering in his chest. He doesn’t know exactly what Tenko did to him, but he knows it wasn’t good. He knows Touya should not be here. 

He knows Touya is going to throw himself headlong into this no matter what he says. He throws himself down onto the street, snapping his wings out to distract Tenko from Havoc and Thunder Dome. Thunder Dome is pale, shaking, half-unconscious, his arm a bloodied mess where most of it is gone. Havoc is holding onto him, trying to do some kind of panicked first-aid, but her whole side is crimson. He’s not sure if she ran into his Quirk as well or if she got attacked by someone else. Tenko is standing near them, looking at ease despite the blood spattered along his side, along his hands. He’s grinning easily, his hair half pulled back from his face. His lips are dry, cracked, and he looks–amused. 

“Did you just say Comet?” he asks, eyes scanning around like he’s looking for Touya.

Hawks sends out a few feathers, helping Rhythmic finish whisking the rest of the civilians away behind the barricade. He sends a few back toward Thunder Dome and Havoc, sending them off back toward the agency, where the medical services will be coming from. 

“Thanks, Hawks. Thunder Dome and Havoc, incoming for medi. Hawks is engaging villain now,” Havoc says. 

Touya’s footsteps clatter on the asphalt behind him, and he lets out a slow breath, trying not to obviously look back. 

“Why don’t we have a little chat, Shimura? Why are you destroying things, hm? There’s really no need for all this production. We can have a civil conversation, can’t we?” he asks. 

Tenko laughs. “Need? Of course there’s no need for all of this,” he agrees easily. He steps forward, his hands splayed wide. 

“Tenko,” Touya calls, and Hawks briefly closes his eyes. Touya’s not thinking. He could have snuck up behind him, flanked him, and gotten this situation under control very quickly. He opens his eyes, seeing Touya striding past him, directly at Tenko. 

His wings flare out in alarm, feathers shooting forward to drag Touya back on instinct. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “He’s dangerous, get back!” 

“We’re keeping this channel clear, but you guys need to know,” Gunhead’s voice crackles over the mic. “There’s an attack across town on route twelve. Backup was diverted. It’s bad. You’re on your own. We're coordinating on another channel to keep the chatter focused.”

Touya shoots a glance at him, shaking his head, and Hawks reluctantly pulls back, letting him step forward. 

Tenko grins. “Your friend thinks I’m dangerous, Touya,” he says, tipping his head toward Hawks. “He keeps trying to hold you back. He keeps trying to keep you away from me. It’s familiar, isn’t it?” His eyes are still lazily scanning around, drifting across the alleys and the rooftops. Hawks watches, confused. Touya is here now; he’d thought that Tenko was looking for him, but even with him here, he’s still searching. 

“You’re not dangerous. I know you, Tenko,” he says firmly. “Being a villain? That’s not you.” His voice is sharp, angry–desperate. 

Tenko snorts. “You knew me, kinda. Sorta.” His eyes drift around. “You knew who I was, what I let you know. You don’t know me anymore, Touya. Probably best that you figure that out now. Your little bird is right. I am dangerous,” he says. He stalks forward, and Touya glares, fire flaring in his hands for just a moment before dying down. 

“Don’t you dare pretend I didn’t know you,” Touya snaps, his voice taut with an anxiety that Hawks can’t even begin to understand. “Your Quirk isn’t dangerous, Tenko. Have I ever been afraid of you?” 

He pauses, like he’s thinking, his face… hesitant. “No,” he admits. “You haven’t ever been afraid of me.” He looks around again, more pointedly, almost… frantic. “But you’re missing the point, Touya. I didn’t say my Quirk was dangerous. We’re past that now,” he says, smirking. He launches forward, seizing Touya's jaw in a four-fingered hold, his index finger raised. “I said I was dangerous.”

Touya freezes, hands at his side, eyes locked on him, and that’s all it takes for Hawks to understand exactly how his Quirk works, and what it will take for Touya to die. 

Hawks feels panic start at the bottom of his lungs and morph into fury somewhere along the way. As it rips out of his chest, it comes out as a sharp, chiding hiss, his teeth clanking together. “Tsssssssssssk!” 

Tenko laughs. “Your bird is territorial, isn’t he?” he asks, grinning. “That’s fun.” 

Touya sighs. “He’s not mine,” he says quietly, his jaw barely moving–even that small movement brings his jaw closer to his other finger, to make Hawks make an anxious little noise in the back of his throat. 

“Does he know that?” Tenko asks, amused. “Better question, does he know that you're not his?” 

“Oh, you’re a bird!” a voice says, sounding enthused. “Your feathers are so pretty!” 

Hawks whirls, seeing a blonde girl, holding two knives. 

“Toga. You were supposed to be sneaky,” he says, irritated. “That wasn’t very sneaky. Where’s Crush?” 

“She’s on her way!” she chirps, hurling a knife at him. Hawks dodges, launching a few feathers at her, snapping into the air to avoid her as she launches forward, swinging wildly with a maniacal cackle of laughter. “Should be here soon!” 

“Who is Crush?” Touya asks, his voice still low and careful. 

“You’re not in control here, Touya. Stop acting like it. I could kill you here and now if I wanted. Turn that pretty face to dust,” he says with a little sigh, like he’s contemplating it. “Maybe just destroy your throat, so you can’t talk anymore.” 

“You like my voice,” Touya launches back, like this is an–argument they’ve had before. “And you like my pretty face too much, Tenko.” 

Tenko snorts. “I did used to tell you that, didn’t I?” He hears something drag across the asphalt–Touya’s boots? And then a gasp. “Your face is still stupidly pretty. Kind of fucking annoying, actually. Wonder how much of you is left under the costume,” he muses. “You were burning through yourself pretty quickly. Bet you look like Frankenstein under there.” 

“That curious?” Touya spits. “Thought you didn’t like me anymore. For someone who doesn’t, you sure care a lot about what I look like naked. Should take me with you and find out,” he taunts. 

“What the fuck, Comet?” Hawks growls, slamming Toga to the ground. She cackles, turning her head to bite into his hand, and he has to rip it away before she can break through his glove, leaping away as she starts swinging again. 

Tenko laughs. “Maybe I will. Bring you with me and throw you in a little cage, just to keep you around. I forgot how amusing you are,” he says. “Do you still suck at games?” he asks. 

“Chell!” Toga cheers. Hawks snaps his gaze to the side as a bright orange portal opens just beside Toga. She darts through it, and the portal snaps shut. Another portal opens a number of meters away, and a woman steps out. 

She’s–entirely unassuming at first glance. Short, barely five foot tall, with wavy black hair that falls to her waist and boring black clothes that don’t draw attention. It’s her eyes that draw attention, though–hypnotic, silver around the edges and lavender in the center. The only thing that sets her apart from being a normal civilian is the sword at her waist. 

Hawks is spinning toward her, taking his first steps to intercept.

“Tenko,” she calls. Her voice, too, sets her apart. It’s rich, resonant, and demands to be heard. “Are you done playing? Did you get what you promised?” Her eyes flicker over to Hawks. “Stop,” she says. Her voice locks all of his muscles in place, all of his feathers in midair, and he can’t move, he can barely breathe, can’t blink, can’t move his eyes to look at Touya again–nothing. 

Tenko must knock his knuckles against something metal; it clanks loudly against his knuckles. “Yep. Objective get,” he says. 

“Who are you running with, Ten? What did you get yourself into?” Touya asks, his voice quiet, muffled–Hawks thinks Tenko has to be holding his jaw harder, trying to keep him from talking. 

“Let’s go, then. Overhaul killed someone across town, and the heroes are going to be in a tizzy,” she says, bored. 

Tenko walks Touya back into view, making him stumble ungracefully as he tries to avoid turning his jaw even an inch. “It’s a real shame you couldn’t be a little less… attached, Touya,” Tenko muses. “You’d be a pretty big stats boost to our team.” He turns Touya’s face to the woman, lifting his finger further to avoid disintegrating it on accident. “What do you think? Want to keep him?” 

Touya flicks his gaze over to Hawks, then over to Tenko. “... I’m not a pet,” he says quietly. 

“And you’re not keeping him,” she says, sounding bored. “He’s going to try to roast us, and then I’ll have to kill him.” 

“Good fucking luck,” Touya snarls. He moves suddenly, and Hawks forgot precisely how fast Touya was. One hand shoots up, gripping Tenko’s wrist, while the other flits out toward the woman. Flames burst from both hands, flaring toward Tenko and the woman at the same time in a burst of heat. 

Tenko screams. The woman snarls a curse. 

Hawks feels when her control slips, and he launches forward to help, trying to secure the woman first. Just as he takes his first step, two portals appear beneath Tenko and the woman. They drop straight inside, and there’s a dizzying moment where Hawks realizes the portals are horizontal to the floor so that Tenko and the woman are sliding onto the floor of wherever they're going. They snap shut before he can see anything else. 

The fire dies, and Touya drops to his knees, staring at the ground where the portal was. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he growls, slamming his fist into the ground so hard his knuckles split, blood dripping onto the ground. 

“Comet! Comet, hey! Stop!” Hawks says, dropping down to his knees. He grabs his wrist, frantic. “Stop!” 

“Fuck!” he says again, ripping his arm out of his grasp, shakily dragging his hands through his hair. 

“Comet. Hawks. Report. You two still with me?” Gunhead asks tersely. 

“With you,” Hawks says. “Alive. Villains got away, though,” he says grimly. “All of them. There’s a villain with a warp Quirk who wasn’t on site. They got everyone away.”

“That tracks with what we saw on route twelve. Takeshita’s agency got hit dead on–they were after something he was working on. There… There are casualties.” 

Touya lets out a hysterical little noise, almost like a laugh.

“Hawks, mind if we meet up at your office? Compare notes and see what’s going on? Fatgum has an idea of something that might be related to this. So does Fourth Kind. Think we can start untangling this if we all get together.” 

“Heard. I’ll bring Comet,” he says, staring at him. “Might be just a few minutes.”

He hears a click, then a small chime that says he’s on a private channel with whomever is about to speak. 

“... I can hear him. He doesn’t sound like he’s doing okay. Send him home if you need to. Take care of him. Please.” 

“Mhm,” he says quietly. He clicks off his mic, then carefully leans over and clicks off Touya’s mic, too. Touya doesn’t seem to notice.

“Comet. Look at me.” Touya stares at his hands, at the blood dripping down his fingers from his split knuckles. “Touya. Look at me,” he says more firmly. 

Touya looks up at him, eyes vacant and glassy. 

“Are you good to do this or not?” he demands. “I could use Comet on my team. Can you be a hero right now, or can’t you?” He hates to ask this of him. He wants to gather him up in his arms, wants to soothe the pain, wants to bandage his knuckles and whisper sweet words to him. But he thinks that would break Touya faster. He thinks Touya needs–purpose. Clarity. He needs to understand what happened, just as much as Hawks does. And in order to do that, he doesn’t think that he can be Touya right this second, the boy who was once in love with the boy Tenko Shimura. He has to be Comet, the hero who’s going to catch the villain Tenko Shimura. 

Touya exhales shakily, running his hands through his hair one more time. It leaves a dull streak of red through it from his bloody hand. “... Yeah. I’m good to do this,” he says slowly. 

Hawks nods once. “Let’s go, then.” 

Hawks thinks it’s going to be a very long day.

Chapter Text

By the end of the day, three heroes are dead. Takeshita and Matrix are dead, and Thunder Dome bled out on the way to the hospital. 

Touya is sitting in the briefing room beside Gunhead, his face perfectly blank. The major players in the area are here. Manual is here. Majestic is here. Gunhead, obviously. Hawks, obviously. Terra Firma, Takeshita’s highest ranked sidekick, is here in his stead, her eyes rimmed in red. She’s young, only twenty-one, and clearly not ready for this. Takeshita’s agency is… small, and generally used to train heroes in a bigger area. His agency is not meant to weather high scale attacks. Fatgum and Fourth Kind are here, and so is All Might, surprisingly. Apparently heroes dying is worthy of number one hero attention.

Hawks stands at the front of the room in front of a white board. 

“Alright. Let’s get started. I know no one is happy about being here today, so we’re going to skip the pleasantries and get straight to the information,” he says flatly. Touya distantly notes his wings are pulled tight, flicking and twitching in irritation. “We’re going to start with what happened across town.” 

Terra Firma stares at the table while she talks. Her Quirk is Terra Takedown; a dirt-based Quirk that lets her control, mold, and manipulate dirt. Her eyes are the color of soil, her hair short and curly. She’s not in costume–he doesn’t think she was supposed to be working today, just coming by to do something when she got roped into a battle for her life. “There were four of them in the original attack. Two in plague doctor masks, one in a white and black suit, and a woman in black. The woman in black was in charge. She had some kind of Quirk that made us all–stop. She told us to stop, and we couldn’t–we couldn’t do anything,” she says. 

“We ran into her, too,” Hawks says. 

“Tenko called her Crush,” Touya says flatly. 

Hawks glances at him, then writes ‘Crush’ on the board, underlines it, and scribbles ‘Leader?’, ‘Vocal Quirk?’, ‘Command-Based Quirk?’ beneath it as well as a brief description of what she looks like. 

“The man in black and white was called ‘Twice,’” Majestic recalls. “The two in plague masks kept snapping at him–he was… torn. Yelling at himself in two different voices.” 

“He made people who weren’t there,” Terra Firma says distantly. “They melted out of him. A blonde girl with knives just… fell out of him and killed Takeshita. She laughed about it.” 

Hawks pauses. “... Blonde girl with knives. Young? Fourteen or fifteen? Yellow eyes, school uniform?” he checks. 

Terra Firma nods. 

“He might be able to do some kind of cloning, then, or another kind of teleporting, depending on the timing,” Hawks says, tapping the board. “With a name like ‘Twice,’ I’m leaning toward the former.” He writes out the information. “The blonde girl was with us.” 

“Toga,” Touya supplies. “Tenko called her Toga.” 

Hawks writes ‘Toga,’ ‘Knives,’ ‘Quirkless?’ and Terra Firma shakes her head. 

“She wasn’t. Quirkless. She changed into him,” she says. “Or maybe just her clone wasn’t Quirkless. She–” Terra Firma puts her hands over her face, going silent for a long moment. Majestic squeezes her shoulder, and she takes a deep breath. “She slit his throat. Licked the knife. And then changed into him. She said he was–not cute–and then–changed back. She thought it was funny,” she says, her voice low and hollow. 

Hawks nods, erasing 'Quirkless' and changing it to 'Blood-based Transformation Quirk'. 

“Thank you, Terra Firma,” Hawks says. His voice is–not quite kind, not soft enough to break her composure. It’s a courtesy, a dismissal if she needs one, a compassion if she wants to take it. 

Touya is struck by how kind Hawks really is. 

Terra Firma nods once, but doesn’t move. He admires that, too. 

“The plague doctor masks?” Hawks asks. 

Majestic leans forward. “Vortex, Matrix, Manual, and I handled those,” he says, voice even. “Vortex was clearing the area of civilians while I tried to restrain the first. One referred to the other as ‘Chronos,’” he says. Hawks writes the name. 

Manual looks–terrible, frankly, his head in his hands. Half of his costume is removed, his eyes rimmed in red, and he’s shaking so hard that Touya thinks he probably shouldn’t be here. “The one we don’t know the name of is the one who got Matrix,” he says, voice slightly muffled in his hands, slightly choked. “We were–doing well. At first. Matrix was coordinating from the back. Vortex had a good smokescreen on the field. Majestic had Chronos secured. I was working on securing the other. He–he said I was boring and not worth his time,” he says, staring at the table.

Majestic sighs, patting his back. “We did everything we could, Mizushima,” he says quietly. “He got past both of us. It was fast. All he had to do was scratch her, and she was gone,” he explains. 

Hawks looks at Manual. “Manual, step out for a minute. Take a breather,” he says gently. “Need you at your best.” Manual nods, standing and walking out, running a hand through his hair. He steps outside, shutting the door behind him. Hawks takes a breath. “... Alright. What did the Quirk do? We need to understand everything we can.” 

Vortex shakes her head, looking ill, then gets up and walks out of the door as well. Majestic waits for her to leave before turning to Hawks. “... There’s no pretty way to say this,” Majestic warns. “He scratched her arm, and everything above her waist was… demolished,” he says quietly. “Nothing was recognizable as human.” 

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence. 

Fourth Kind drums his fingers on the table. “Fat and I have been working on a case lately that links a few things to the Shie Hassaikai. That sounds a lot like a few murders we’ve been running into.” 

Fatgum nods. “We’ve got a few whispers about a leader, but nothing concrete. Something about a destruction Quirk.” 

“Overhaul,” Touya suddenly remembers. 

“What?” Hawks asks. 

“‘Overhaul killed someone across town, and the heroes are going to be in a tizzy,’” Touya quotes. “Crush said that to Tenko.” 

Hawks writes ‘Overhaul’ on the board above ‘Destruction Quirk’ ‘Shie Hassaikai’ ‘Leader?’ “Your memory is a boon, Comet,” he mutters. 

Touya stares at him, tense. “It is until I can’t forget what Thunder Dome looked like without his arm,” he says hollowly. That image will live, crystal clear, in his memory until he dies, unfortunately. At least the sounds will fade, eventually. Images… not so much. 

Hawks freezes, his marker hovering over the board. “... Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“No. I’m sorry. Not the time,” Touya says, waving his hand dismissively.

“The portaler,” Hawks says next, tapping the board. 

“Chell,” Touya supplies. “Toga called her ‘Chell.’” He pauses. “... Although that might be a joke,” he muses. 

All Might blinks. “How is that–a joke?” he asks, tilting his head. He’s been remarkably quiet, taking notes, focused, offering quiet comfort to the people around him. Touya kind of thought he’d be annoyingly inspirational, and he’s glad that he’s… not doing that. 

“Portal,” Touya answers. “It’s a video game. Chell is the protagonist. She has a portal gun that looks–pretty close to the portals that this Quirk makes,” he muses. “I wonder if the rules are the same.” 

“We don’t want to assume anything,” Hawks says, but writes ‘Chell’, ‘Portals’, ‘Doorways’, ‘Perpendicular’. 

“Perpendicular?” Touya asks. 

“When she made one beneath them, at the very end, to escape your fire, the portal was–perpendicular,” Hawks explains. “It went down, but when they dropped, they were going across the floor where they landed. I could see into the room, and they were going into the room at a ninety degree angle.” 

Touya blinks, then nods thoughtfully. “... 'Now you’re thinking with portals,'” he mumbles to himself. “Fighting with her on the field is going to be a nightmare,” he says morosely. 

“It’s definitely going to be dangerous,” Hawks agrees. “... Alright, Comet. Tenko?” he asks, writing ‘Tenko Shimura’ on the board. 

Touya stares at the table for a long moment, trying to find words that aren’t please don’t make me do this, I can’t do this, Hawks please–

“I need you to be a hero right now,” Hawks reminds him gently. “He killed Thunder Dome. Give me a clinical report of everything you know.” 

Touya exhales carefully, looking up to lock eyes with him. He holds his gaze, pulling strength from his unblinking eyes. “Tenko Shimura. Twenty-two. Quirk: Decay. Anything he touches with all five fingers disintegrates. He’s unable to turn it off. Originally, he was planning to be a hero, and attended Shiketsu in the same year as me. He was–not well liked. He was prone to fits of rage, and often destroyed others’ things by accident. Tenko was often called dangerous because of his Quirk, and many refused to be around him, to work with him, or to spar with him. He’d heard this his entire life, but he had thought that getting into a hero school would be his chance to change it. By second year, when it hadn’t changed, even when he was near the top of the class, he… gave up. He told me he was leaving. He was talking nonsense. I–misunderstood him,” he says slowly. “He said he would show them. I thought he meant he would prove them wrong. I thought he meant he was going to become a vigilante, that he would show them he could become a hero,” he says slowly. “But I suppose he meant this. That he would prove them right, that he would show them how dangerous he actually was. I dragged him before the board with my misunderstanding. I turned him in,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “They expelled him. Put him under supervision for vigilantism. He was–furious. He stopped talking to me, and I haven’t–I hadn’t heard from him since, until today.” 

Gunhead pats his shoulder, and he cringes away. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“S’fine. Just… fuck,” he mumbles. 

“Fuck,” Gunhead agrees. 

“Fuck,” a few others agree sympathetically around the table. 

All Might laughs, a booming thing that makes them jump. “Fuck,” he agrees, and Touya’s head whips around to look at him, incredulous. 

“... Did the symbol of peace just say ‘fuck’?” he asks, just kind of out to the air.

“... Ah… no?” he says uncertainly, like he thinks he’s going to get in trouble, even though he’s a seven foot tall brick shit house that can change the weather with a single punch.

“No, no, he did,” Hawks contradicts, amused. 

Touya barks out a laugh, and suddenly they’re all laughing, because it’s–a little ridiculous, and they’re all raw from grief, and they just need something to laugh at. All Might laughs, too, a little sheepishly, because he’s willing to be the butt of the joke. 

They move on, feeling slightly lighter, to the info that Fourth Kind and Fatgum have. Apparently, the Shie Hassaikai have been peddling some kind of drug called Trigger that makes Quirks supercharged. 

“... Tenko had something–Crush asked if he had ‘it,’ and he knocked a metal case in his pocket,” Touya muses. “Maybe Trigger? Or something similar they’re working on?” he asks. 

“Don’t like that,” Fatgum says, tapping his fingers on the table. “Definitely don’t like the idea of them working on something worse than Trigger–it’s already pretty nasty!” 

Hawks nods, writing ‘Trigger’ off to the side with a circle. “We’ll turn what we have into the police, and see if they can link any cases together across the districts to get back to us,” he says thoughtfully. “Keep in touch with everyone. I want all of us working together on this,” he says firmly. “I want all eyes out. In the meantime, everyone go take a break. If you fought, go home for at least a few hours. I don’t want to see you on a patrol for a minimum of six hours. We’ve got a relief shift in, and they’re covering the area for us for the next twenty-four,” he says firmly. His eyes snap to Touya at this, his eyes sharp, and Touya looks away. He had been intending on going back to work, but Hawks didn’t need to know that. 

Everyone breaks away, and All Might makes his way to the front of the room. Touya doesn’t bother moving–he usually waits until everyone figures out where they’re going; he hates bumping into people. Gunhead leans over before he leaves. 

“Make sure you go home, kid. Not joking. If I see you, I’m sending you home,” he says seriously. 

Touya frowns at the table. “... Alright,” he mumbles.

Gunhead nods once, then gets up and heads out. He thinks All Might is going to head over to Hawks–it makes sense; he’s in charge, after all, but All Might takes the seat that Gunhead was in and turns to him with a thousand-watt smile that… almost doesn’t feel fake. 

“Hello! I never actually got to formally meet you. Comet, right?” he asks, offering his hand. 

Touya blinks. He hesitates for a moment, debating. He doesn’t do handshakes, but shaking the number one hero’s hand feels so much like a direct spite to Endeavor that he can’t really pass up the opportunity. He shakes his hand. 

“Comet,” he confirms. 

“I’m All Might,” he says, like he has to introduce himself, and Touya–kind of appreciates the modesty, actually. 

“I think everyone knows that,” he says anyway, just to be a dick. 

All Might laughs, and Touya realizes the booming laugh from earlier wasn’t even particularly loud–that’s just his only setting. “Comes with the territory,” he says, grinning. “You’re working with Gunhead! That’s surprising. I would have thought–” 

“You would think wrong,” Touya says, because he’s had this conversation a thousand times, any time someone is brave or stupid enough to ask, and heroes are usually both. “Endeavor and I don’t get along.” 

All Might’s brows raise. “I see!” He nods once. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Touya shrugs. “It is what it is.” 

He hesitates for a moment, glancing around, looking slightly at a loss, like he wants to help more but doesn’t quite know how to. He looks like a lost puppy. For a moment, it reminds him of Shouto’s friend, with his wide green eyes, frantic and half in tears at any given moment, always pulsing with entirely too much kindness for this shitty ass world. 

Touya laughs, because he kind of thought those kind of people didn’t exist anymore, and here’s two of them back to back. 

“... You’re a good guy, aren’t you?” he asks, tilting his head. 

All Might blinks. “Huh?” he asks. 

“You just… have one of those faces. One of those guys that’s just… a genuinely good guy,” he says with a shrug. He looks away, looking at the wall. “Thinks everything’s gonna work out, ‘cause it has to, or something.” 

All Might laughs. “I don’t know about that. I’ve had plenty of people I’ve been unable to save because I can’t be everywhere in the world. But I’ll make everything I can work out–not because it has to, but because I will do it,” he says, his smile widening. “And it’ll be more than anyone ever expected.”

Touya looks at him, brows furrowed for a moment as his brain turns that over. “... That’s…” He huffs. “... Yeah, alright,” he says, smiling slightly. “I can see why you’re number one.” 

He laughs again. “Thank you. I’m glad to have earned your approval,” he says, and it feels–genuine, somehow. He can see why his father would hate this man; his father always hated anyone who was genuinely kind, who sought to soothe heartaches. 

Granted, his father hated most people. 

Hawks sighs, settling into the chair next to All Might at the head of the table. “Comet. You headed home soon?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“Are you?” he challenges, eyes narrowed. 

Hawks looks away. “I have to–” 

“I can take care of paperwork,” All Might volunteers. “I can submit everything to the local police and work with Fourth Kind and Fatgum to get everything combined. Let us take care of that part, Hawks.” 

Touya raises a brow, waiting. “I’ll go home when you do, Birdie,” he offers, a neat little idea popping into his head that he doesn’t quite want to give shape to, or think all the way through before he can talk himself out of it. 

All Might blinks, looking between them, mouthing the word ‘birdie’ to himself. 

Hawks stares at him, eyes narrowed. “... I run an agency, Comet. I need to be on call just in case–” 

“And the number one hero can’t handle your agency for a few hours?” he returns, cocking his head to the side. 

“It’s not that he can’t, it’s that–” 

“How about,” Touya interrupts. “I come to your apartment,” he offers flatly.

“What.” Hawks asks, his pupils narrowing to slits in that way that makes Touya feel like prey. 

All Might scrambles to his feet, suddenly mumbling something about Fourth Kind calling him from the hallway and how he needs to go immediately. No one is calling anyone from the hallway, but he sure is moving quickly. Neither of them look up. 

“You need to go home,” Touya presses. 

“So do you.” 

“What an elegant solution,” he deadpans. 

“I need to be here,” Hawks argues. 

“We’ve already established that you don’t, actually,” he counters. 

“What is this actually about?” Hawks asks, frustrated. 

Touya stares at him, waiting. Hawks catches onto everything. Surely he can catch onto this without making him say it. Surely. 

Hawks pauses, cocking his head, his expression morphing into something surprised. “... What… What is this actually about?” he repeats, more slowly. 

Touya glances around the room. They’re alone. He sighs. “Are you really going to make me say it?” he asks quietly. 

Hawks leans forward, hand on the table. “I need to know exactly what this is. So, yeah, I’m going to need you to spell it out clearly.” 

Touya grits his teeth for a moment, resisting the urge to trash the entire idea. “I don’t want to be alone right now,” he says slowly.

Hawks hasn’t blinked once since Touya asked to come home with him. “... Could it be anyone? For you? Right now?” he presses. 

Touya clenches his fist, staring at him. “... No,” he admits, feeling like he’s swallowed broken glass. “If you ask anymore questions, though, it’s off the table.” 

Hawks nods once, sharply. “That’s all I need. Let’s go.” 

Touya texts the group chat of his siblings as he walks out of the agency. 

Touya Pick Up Your Fucking Phone

‘Yumi - 19:32
Touya, are you okay? We’ve been watching the news.
I haven’t heard anything from you since you left the house, and it just says there are confirmed casualties. 

‘Tsuo - 20:21
pick up the damn phone. whats the point of having the fucking thing if you never answer it? i know you have our notifs up, touya 

Shou - 21:10
Answer whenever you’re ready. I know you’re okay.
… Sooner would be better, though.

Touya - 22:20
I’m alive.
Sorry.
Going to Hawks’. I’ll be home tomorrow.

‘Tsuo - 22:23
going to WHERE
hold the phone
going to WHOSE

Shou - 22:25
I’m pretty sure he’s holding the phone. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to text us, Natsuo.
Tell Hawks I said hello.

‘Yumi - 22:26
I’m glad you’re okay! Thank God!

‘Tsuo - 22:26
ARE WE ALL JUST GOING TO IGNORE THIS?!
hang on did he say he’d be back TOMORROW?!
TOUYA

Touya closes his phone, tucking it in a pocket.

Hawks leans over curiously. “... Siblings?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“Shouto says hi,” he replies. 

“Hi, Babyroki,” he coos, grinning. 

Touya narrows his eyes at him. “You like my siblings too much,” he says. 

“You like your siblings,” Hawks replies easily. “It’s easy to like what you like.” 

He rolls his eyes, looking away, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in his chest at that answer. He wasn’t going to let this be anything more than it was, and it was just going to be one night. Whatever happened, it was one night, and that was all it was going to be. 

Just one night. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hawks thinks he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. 

Touya is walking beside him, steps confident and easy like he does this all the time. Does he do this all the time? The question makes him writhe with jealousy at the thought. 

Hawks… does not do this all the time. 

Hawks plays the playboy. He smirks and he flirts and he grins and he plays up his angles and his wings and his natural charisma in all the ways he knows how. He’s had a flame for Comet the hero since he was sixteen, and his silly stupid heart hasn’t been able to let him settle for anyone else, so he hasn’t been able to. He hasn’t even kissed anyone else, because it hasn’t come up as something relevant to do for a mission. 

He guesses he would, if he ever had to, but he never had to. 

Now Touya is beside him, face impassive, steps confident, hands in his pockets, and Hawks is taking him home like they’re both on the same page. 

God, Hawks wishes he had more experience all of a sudden. He wants to be able to make this–fantastic for Touya. Fantastic enough that Touya doesn’t ever want anyone else. He knows how to, in theory. Knows everything in theory, because he’s learned everything he needs to know about people in theory to play any role he needs to. 

But Touya is different. Touya always seems to know when Hawks is playing a role, and he hates it when he’s anything other than genuine. The moment Hawks tries to put on any persona, tries to play any tricks, or lean into any of his training, Touya pulls away immediately. The only progress he makes is when he stops trying to play. When he’s serious, when he lets Keigo come through, for just a moment.

It’s… 

Terrifying, frankly, but he’s not strong enough to stop letting him see, not when he’s finally found a way to pull him in. 

“Where do you live, anyway, Birdie?” Touya asks. “Much farther?” 

“Not very,” he answers. “Be faster if we flew.” He gives Touya a little smirk, just to watch the way he blanches. 

“Distinctly less sexy, too,” he mutters. 

“Oh? Is this a sexy evening?” Hawks teases, brows raised. “And here I thought we were just going to sleep.” He guides Touya over to a high rise apartment building, nodding to the doorman as they walk into the lobby. He usually flies up to his balcony, but since his present company is so opposed… 

Touya snorts. “Well, if you’re opposed,” he says with an easy shrug, like he doesn't care either way. 

“Well, hold on, I didn’t say all that,” he argues, holding his hands up, flipping around to walk backwards. “I am definitely unopposed to a sexy evening.” 

“Say it louder, I don’t think they heard you in America,” Touya deadpans, expression flat, glancing around the lobby at the expressions of the few people milling around. Hawks doesn’t bother looking–he doesn’t particularly care about them.  

“Well, if I have my way, I’m fairly sure half the floor will hear us anyway, so,” he says, winking. He turns around, clicking the up button. 

“Are your walls that thin?” Touya asks, tilting his head. He sounds just a touch squirrelly about that. 

“... No, they’re actually all soundproof. It was just a line,” Hawks admits honestly. 

Touya squints at him.

“Promise,” he says. The elevator opens, and they step inside; Hawks clicks the button for the top floor. When the elevator slides shut, Hawks steps into his space, smiling. “So. Sexy evening, yeah?” he asks. 

Touya sighs, then looks up at him. … Up at him? Hawks realizes he’s fluttering his wings, his feet a few inches off of the ground in his euphoria. “... You said you wanted to be perfectly clear about what this is, Birdie,” he says firmly. “Are we clear on what this is?” 

Hawks lets himself land carefully. He’s too excited–it’s showing through. He can’t read too much into this. It’s one night. Touya saw his ex, his ex became a murderer, and Touya just needs to blow off some steam. That’s all this is. It’s–honestly not even remotely healthy, and he really should say no, for both of their sakes. 

He really, really should say no. 

Hawks doesn’t have it in him to say no. 

“Yeah, Comet. I know what this is,” he says, a little softer, letting his playful tone drop. He offers his hand. “I can let this be what it is. It doesn’t have to be anything more.” 

Touya nods once. He reaches out, taking his hand, linking their fingers together as the elevator opens. Hawks leads him out, down the hall to the end unit. He tugs out his keys, unlocking the door, and steps inside. 

No one is inside this time. Blessedly. He knows the apartment isn’t bugged–the HPSC doesn’t keep anything in his house because it’s too much of a risk, just in case Hawks ever needs to bring a contact back to his place for any reason–getting rid of mics and cameras would be too hard to do on a dime. 

Besides, the HPSC knows that he’ll admit anything he’s done wrong, anyway. There’s no point in monitoring him in that way. 

So, he and Touya are alone. Fully and totally. He steps inside, pulling Touya in behind him, and pushes the door shut, pushing Touya back against it. He slides his hands up to his jaw, his gloved thumbs brushing across his soft, pale skin. 

It’s just one night, and Hawks will never tell him it’s his first, but if it’s all he’ll get, he thinks there’s no risk in savoring it. 

“Rules?” Hawks asks, tilting his head. 

“Don’t particularly care,” Touya replies. His eyes immediately tighten, like he’s found an objection right after he’s spoken. “... Don’t ask about any of them,” he amends, voice quiet. He gestures toward his body, and Hawks flicks his eyes down. He thinks about how covered Touya always is. What he must be hiding. 

He nods once. 

“Your rules?” Touya returns. 

“Careful on the wings. I can disengage feathers, but if I’m not the one disengaging them, they’re regular wings. Pulling hurts,” he says. 

Touya tilts his head, his eyes drifting toward them. “... Does anything feel good?” he asks curiously. “With your wings?” 

Hawks blinks. “I’m… not sure, actually,” he says slowly. “I’ve never really tried.” 

“D’you want to?” he asks. “Or would you rather I stay away from them entirely?” 

“You can touch anything you want,” Hawks says immediately. 

Touya stares at him for a long moment, then nods once. “Alright.”

“Safeword?” Hawks asks, because he’s read it’s good etiquette to check. 

Touya raises a brow. “Are we planning on getting particularly kinky?” he asks, sounding amused and not entirely uninterested. 

“Not necessarily. But it’s always good practice to have it on hand, just in case,” he muses, running his gloved thumb across Touya’s lower lip. He watches with fascination as Touya’s pupils expand, his tongue flicking out to drift across his thumb, the flash of silver of his tongue ring drawing his eye immediately. 

“Traffic light system,” Touya suggests. 

“Green for go, yellow for slow, red for stop?” Hawks checks. 

Touya nods once. “Are we done with rules yet?” he asks, his voice low, a touch raspy. 

Hawks leans in closely, just a breath away. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I think we’re done.” 

“Good. Then get on with it, Birdie,” he says firmly, gripping his jacket. He yanks him forward the last few centimeters, and– 

Well. Hawks’ first kiss is the kind of thing they write about in books, he thinks. The kind of thing that’s electric, that leaves him breathless. He thinks he sees fireworks behind his eyes, but that might just be because he’s closing them so tightly, holding onto Touya’s jacket for dear life as he takes charge. He swipes his tongue along Hawks’ lower lip, the warm metal of his tongue ring making him gasp in surprise. He licks along the side of his tongue, along the roof of his mouth curiously, his hands starting a gentle, roaming path from his hips to his sides, along his back and down to his ass. 

“Ahhh… Comet,” he murmurs, dragging himself closer, one hand coming up to tangle itself in Touya’s hair. 

He feels the grimace at his hero name. 

“... Touya,” Hawks tries, voice barely a breath, wondering if he’s allowed to have this. He doesn’t think he is, he knows their agreement, but maybe this can be an exception. Maybe. 

Touya’s body goes taut, his hands gripping his hips tightly. “... Hawks,” he says quietly, in warning. 

He nods once. “Got it,” he says.

“Less talking,” Touya decides. He pulls back, shuffling his coat off of his shoulders. “Help me get this off of your wings,” he says. 

Hawks quickly helps, tucking his wings in, sliding it back and over while Touya works on his compression shirt next. He helps him slide that off, next.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Touya asks, looking around. Hawks grabs his jacket, dragging him back toward it. His bed is huge–it has to be to let him stretch out his wings. An Alaskan king size bed. Touya blinks, staring at it. “Jesus Christ, Birdie,” he says. 

“You try stretching out wings on a twin-size,” he says defensively. 

“I’m not complaining. I’m just.” He waves his hand to encompass the entirety of everything that is his bed. He starts to unclip his bracer, and Hawks grabs it, frowning. 

“... You got to undress me,” he murmurs. “Can’t I?” 

Touya stares at him, eyes focused and calculating for a moment. He holds out his arm, showing him the cooling brace on his wrist. He turns his wrist slowly, then presses a button, revealing a latch, then unlatches it. “Go on. They all work like that,” he says quietly. 

Hawks takes a slow breath, nodding eagerly. He unhooks the brace, setting it aside on his dresser carefully, then unlatches the one on his other wrist. He repeats the motion for the ones on his upper arms, and then slides his hands up his abdomen, across his chest, and then into the shoulders of his jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders. 

Touya sighs quietly, closing his eyes, letting the jacket fall. Hawks slips his hands down to the belt, clicking the button, and unhooks that part as well, setting it aside. The body suit is–all one piece. It looks like it zips in the back. He starts to step around Touya, but as he moves, Touya grabs his arm, pulling him back in to kiss him again. Touya’s hands slide down to his waist, undoing his gold Hawks belt. He blindly sets it on the dresser, then starts tugging at the button on his jeans. 

“Impatient,” Hawks murmurs against his lips. 

Touya pulls away to glare at him. “So, you don’t want me to suck your cock is what I’m hearing,” he muses. 

Hawks nearly chokes because he wasn’t aware that was on the table. “I–did not say that,” he objects. “I would–like that a lot, actually. We can absolutely do that.” 

“Should probably be a little less snarky, then,” Touya replies, biting his lip lightly, one hand sliding down to grab him through his jeans, and–ah. Hawks groans, grabbing his shoulders at the bolt of heat that sends up his spine. 

“Noted,” he says breathlessly. “No snark here, I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Touya rolls his eyes, then slides down to his knees in one smooth motion, and Hawks thinks he might have died, actually, because Touya is just looking up at him like he did in the photoshoot, his eyes lined in dark liner, slightly smudged, pupils wide, slight smirk on his lips like he knows he’s in control even though he’s on his knees. 

He absolutely is. 

Touya reaches up, undoing the buttons, and pulls his jeans and boxers down in one easy pull, leaving him completely exposed to the air. He’s– embarrassingly hard, given all they’ve done is kiss a few times. 

Touya tilts his head, tugging aside the jeans so Hawks can step out of them, and tosses them aside. “You’re pretty big, Birdie,” he mumbles, running his hands up Hawks’ legs, starting at his knees and going up towards his thighs. He leans back on his haunches, as if in thought, then turns Hawks toward the bed, pushing him toward it so he can sit down. He sits, fluttering his wings out. 

“Better,” Touya decides, shuffling over. He nudges between his knees, running his palms along his thighs again, then up his sides, glancing up at Hawks. “Have a preference for how you like this done?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Is there more than one way? He doesn’t know. He shakes his head mutely, bracing his hands on the bed. Touya frowns, glancing at his hands. He reaches over, taking one, then settles it into his hair. He nods, then leans down, kissing along Hawks’ thigh. Hawks immediately tangles his fingers into Touya’s hair, holding onto it gently. 

“You can hold on harder than that,” he says easily. He turns his head, licking a long stripe of wet heat along his cock in a way that makes him gasp, gripping his hair tightly. He hums, like he’s pleased. “Better.” He takes Hawks in his mouth, and he’s lost to pleasure. There’s technique to it, he thinks; something he’s doing to make sure his teeth don’t scrape, some way he’s moving so he can accustom himself to the length without choking–

Well, he thinks that at first, but then Touya slides down all at once with zero trouble, and it quickly becomes clear that he just doesn’t have a gag reflex to speak of, and that’s. Definitely something that Hawks knows now. 

“Fuck,” he says reverently, adjusting his grip in his hair. “You’re perfect. God. That–ah !” 

Touya swirls his tongue, and his tongue ring makes the sensation particularly sharp. 

“Didn’t know you had a tongue ring til I was–God, yes, like that–at dinner. Thought I was going to die when you stuck your tongue out,” he says breathlessly. Touya flicks his gaze up, raising a brow, and that’s almost too much. “Ah–ah, almost–I’m–probably going to–” he warns quickly, tugging at his hair. 

Touya has the audacity to shrug and hum, dragging his nails down his thighs. It’s–embarrassingly fast, frankly; in his defense, he’s literally a virgin, and Touya is quite literally the hottest man on the planet, and there are very few people who would fare better. He still feels warring embarrassment and pleasure when he finishes down his throat because Touya won’t let go, his breath coming in short little gasps and moans. 

Touya rocks back onto his haunches, licking along his lips, smirking. “... Very nice,” he murmurs to himself, and Jesus, his voice is wrecked, cracking and raspy. 

Hawks groans, putting his head in his hands. “Ugh. Sorry,” he grumbles. 

Touya blinks. “Sorry for what?” He clears his throat. 

“Finishing like an overeager teenager in three seconds,” he says. 

Touya snorts. “It’s a compliment, really.”

Hawks leans forward. “Can I…” 

Touya stands up, stretching, a few of his joints popping. He glances at him. “... Did you think we were done after that?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Hawks pauses. Reassesses. “No,” he says slowly. 

“... Do you want to be done after that?” he asks, slower. 

“Absolutely not,” he says more firmly. It’ll definitely take a few minutes for him to get back to being hard, but, frankly, he’s going to get as much as he can get out of this night as he can. 

Touya nods once. “Then we’re not,” he says easily.

“Let me take your clothes off,” Hawks says, trying to sound like he’s not begging. He’s the only one, well, mostly naked. He kind of looks a little stupid actually, still in his gloves and socks and nothing else. Touya’s still in his full body-suit and fingerless gloves.

Touya tilts his head. “Take off the rest of yours, first,” he says, watching him. 

Hawks stares at him. “... Alright,” he says slowly. He slips off his socks, tossing them aside. His feet aren’t the weirdest thing about his body, he supposes. His feet are narrow, slightly too narrow to be normal, and his nails are sharper than normal, dark like talons rather than clear like normal nails, but otherwise, nothing to write home about. He slips off his gloves. His hands are similar. Thin. Slightly muscular in the wrong ways, sharp with nails that are more like talons than proper nails. They almost look like claws. 

Still. It’s… a rule. He’s not supposed to show them to anyone. They’re not normal. 

Touya reaches out, taking his hand, pulling it up toward him. He looks over his fingers curiously, his burning blue eyes taking in each detail, and then in a move that’s so staggeringly soft that it hurts, he brushes his lips across his knuckles. 

It’s unfair. 

It’s entirely goddamn unfair. 

It goes against what this night is supposed to be. It gives him hope that he shouldn’t have. It makes his eyes prick with tears, and he looks away. “... Let me take your clothes off,” he repeats, voice rough. 

Touya nods once, turning their hands over. Hawks slips off his gloves, one at a time, tossing them aside, then pulls him forward to turn him around. He reaches up, tugging down the zipper at his back. 

“Don’t ask about them,” he repeats, voice soft. 

“I won’t,” Hawks promises. He pushes the costume away, down his shoulders, and he realizes exactly what Touya means. His back is a mottled mess of burns, the worst of which is a line of twisted, angry skin directly down the line of his spine. 

“Hurts like a son of a bitch, but not worse than a second degree burn up your entire spine, like… as a range of pain, so,” he suddenly remembers Touya saying, a little pained smirk on his face when he’d been attacked by Bone Barrage. 

He’d thought that was oddly specific.

He slides the suit down his waist, and the swirling burns continue down, down. He has another huge burn on his thigh, down across his knee. Another on his calf. Hawks ducks down, pressing a soft kiss into it. Another into the one on his knee. On his thigh. On his hip. He presses kisses along his spine, working his way all the way back up, his hands settling on his waist. When he gets to his shoulders, he follows the trail of scarred skin along his left shoulder, and he hears the uneven breathing, the slight hitches. He thinks Touya might be crying, his face turned away. He’s not going to turn him around–not going to look.

That’s not what tonight is. 

But if Touya isn’t going to play fair, then Hawks doesn’t have to, either. 

They just don’t have to talk about it. Or acknowledge it.

That’s probably fine.

A hand slides back, tangling into Hawks’ hair, and Touya tips his head to the side, trying to bring him back over to safe territory, over to his neck. Hawks takes the redirect, biting his neck gently, kissing up toward his jaw. He slides his arms forward, running his palms across his abdomen, his chest. There are more scars here, mostly along his chest, just below his pecs, and along his collarbones, drifting across into his upper arm–he saw the edges of this scar when he came to dinner, when Touya wore the sleeveless shirt, he realizes. 

He wonders if these are all from Touya. 

‘I burned.’ 

“How do you–hmmm,” Touya hums, low in his throat, a soft, rumbling noise when Hawks sucks at his throat, and God, he loves that sound. “Do you have a preference?” he murmurs. “For who’s on top?” 

Hawks pauses, considering. He has… theoretical knowledge of how this works. He doesn’t know how to make this good for Touya, though. “What do you usually prefer?” he asks, nosing under his jaw. 

Touya laughs, like something about the question is hilarious. “Fuck me, then,” he says. “If you don’t have a preference.” 

Hawks closes his eyes tightly, his arms tightening around Touya as he struggles to–figure out what to do with the series of emotions that set of words invokes, because fuck. “... Yeah, alright,” he chokes out. 

“Don’t guess you have lube somewhere around here?” he asks, drumming his fingers along his forearm, sounding a little breathless.

“Yeah. Yep. It’s… Uh… Bedside table,” he says. “You can get on the bed,” he offers. 

Touya looks down at the arms holding him captive. “... Can I?” he asks. He gives his hips a slow roll backwards, and Hawks lets out a groan, dropping his forehead onto Touya’s shoulder, utterly unsurprised to feel that he’s already getting half-hard again.

“Not if you do that,” he mutters. He turns, gently tossing him toward the bed. Touya snickers, getting onto the bed and laying back, one leg propped up, the other stretched out lazily, half propped up on his elbows to watch Hawks. He’s hard, too, Hawks is pleased to note. At least he’s not entirely inept at this. Touya’s longer than he is, but that’s not surprising in the slightest–he’s proportionate, and beautiful even here. 

He looks like a Greek God, fallen out of myth, Hawks thinks, scars and all, carved into marble so that mortals can comprehend who he is. He’s all lean muscle, slight deviations from the burn scars, a few mottled lines here and there from other fights. His eyes are focused, looking like they do when he’s mid battle, memorizing every little thing around him, planning a strategy, counter-strategy, and a counter-counter-strategy that’s going to get everyone out alive. His lips are ticked up in a very slight smirk, like he knows he’s the best-looking thing in the room, and he knows that Hawks can’t look away. 

… Granted, he might know that because Hawks hasn’t looked away for about forty-five sustained seconds when he’s supposed to be getting something. 

“Lube, Hawks,” he prompts, tipping his head toward the bedside table. “Unless you want me to just get myself off.” 

Hawks’ brain briefly short-circuits. “... That… would also be fun to watch, but I’m definitely going to fuck you,” he says. He means for it to come out in a flirty, blasé voice, but instead it just comes out punched out and vaguely desperate, almost like a whine. Jesus. Get it together, Hawks. 

He scrambles over to the table, grabbing the bottle, and gets on the bed. 

“Want to do it, or do you want me to prep myself?” Touya asks lazily, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. 

Hawks feels like he should be more in control of this. How is Touya leading so much when he’s–not going to be on top? This is not how it’s supposed to go, he doesn’t think. 

Maybe he’s just putty in Touya’s hands, and it really never mattered what position he was in. He thinks that’s probably it. Hawks looks at him sheepishly, wiggling his fingers to show off his very sharp nails. “Claws,” he says. “Probably best that you do it.” 

Touya glances at them. “Ah. I didn’t forget about them, but I really didn’t think about the logistics,” he admits, snorting. “Not the best for this particular application, are they?” he muses. 

Hawks snickers, suddenly feeling–lighter. This is more like how he generally interacts with Touya. Softer, a little sarcastic, a little dry, but not rude. A little funny. It puts him at ease in a way nothing has so far. “That they are not,” he agrees. 

Touya rolls up onto his knees, uncapping the lube, then drips a generous amount onto his fingers. He drops the bottle between them, then grabs Hawks’ shoulder with his free hand, reaching behind him with the other. There’s a pause, and then a wet noise, then a soft, “... Ah.” Touya spreads his knees a little bit, working himself open, and Hawks stares, absolutely positive he hasn’t blinked nearly enough tonight and not caring in the slightest. 

He runs his hands along Touya’s sides, flicking a thumb across one of his nipples experimentally. 

“Ngh!” 

Okay. Yeah. That’s–that’s a good sound. 

He settles his thumb back, rolling the bud between his fingers, toying with it easily. He leans forward, kissing along his neck, up to his jaw. Touya’s nails dig into his shoulder. 

“Fuck–Hawks,” he gasps. 

Keigo bites down, hard, over his pulse point, a warning. He doesn’t–want to be Hawks. 

God, he wants to be Keigo right now. He’s never wanted to be Keigo more than in this moment. 

Touya makes a frustrated little noise. “... Then–Then tell me what to say,” he gasps, frustrated. 

That’s not what tonight is supposed to be. If he tells him his name, then it’s more. 

“... If I told you what to say, it would be my name,” he grits out, against his neck. 

Touya locks up, freezing for just a moment. He shakes his head, his hand locking into Keigo’s hair. 

“... What are we doing?” he mutters, almost to himself. 

Keigo feels a moment of panic. “... I can be Hawks,” he says, almost desperately. He doesn’t want this to end here. He has Touya in his arms. He doesn’t want to give it up. 

Touya sighs quietly, against his neck, like he’s making a decision. “Tell me your name,” he mumbles, quietly. 

“... You don’t want it,” he murmurs back. 

A beat of silence. 

Touya slides his hand back around–was he done prepping? Keigo isn’t sure; he lost track somewhere. Touya guides him around, herding him toward the headboard. “Sit back against it. I’m going to sit in your lap. Is that going to hurt your wings?” he asks, voice low. 

Keigo follows the orders, sitting back against it. His headboard has a ridged top and bottom part, so his head rests lightly against the top section, his wings settling into the slight depression easily. He picked it out for that reason, so he could sit up and read books if he wanted to. “It won’t hurt,” he murmurs. 

“Good,” Touya mumbles. He adjusts Keigo, moving his legs apart slightly, then moving to straddle him. He leans back, grabbing the bottle of lube, then gets a generous handful. His brow draws down, like he’s focusing on something, and then he reaches down, carefully taking him in hand. 

Oh, his hand is warm. 

“... Did you–ah–use your Quirk to heat your hand up?” he asks incredulously. The rest of Touya’s skin is cold, but his hand is warm. 

“Figured cold and wet would be a bit of a boner-killer,” he says, giving him a little smile that’s just a little bit boyish and a little bit adorable and all fucking cute. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Can I–touch you, too?” he asks. 

Touya pauses, blinking at him owlishly. “You want to?” he asks. 

Hawks looks at him, baffled. “I. Yes? Obviously I want that,” he says slowly. “Do I seem like I don’t want to fuck you into the mattress? I really want to do that. I want to touch you very badly,” he says, because he guesses he’d been unclear about that? 

“Oh.” He blinks, his face turning a soft pink, looking slightly dazed. He hesitates for a moment, and then shakes his head like he’s regaining his bearings, slipping back into some semblance of control. “... No,” he finally decides. He grins, and this time it’s a sharp grin, like right before he takes a villain down. “You can sit right there, and let me do what I’d like,” he says. 

Keigo blinks. “O-Oh. Okay. Sure. Yep. Yeah. Okay. Whatever you’d like,” he agrees faintly. 

Touya strokes him slowly, his fingers toying with the tip of his cock in a way that makes him gasp and writhe. Touya seems to be watching him curiously, cataloging each reaction. The fact that he’ll never forget them makes Hawks feel… 

Well, it makes him feel a lot of things. 

“Ready for me?” Touya murmurs. 

“Mmm?” Keigo asks, somewhere amidst a moan, half-coherent. 

“... I’ll assume that means yes,” Touya decides. He shifts, and Keigo gasps, tensing as he feels Touya line himself up, starting to carefully lower himself down. It’s–slow. 

Excruciatingly slow. 

Keigo keeps his eyes locked on Touya’s face, watching it go from impassive to scrunched up to… 

His eyes are shut tightly, his lips slightly parted. He’s not making any noise. Keigo rubs his hands along his sides carefully, his thumbs moving in slow circles, but he’s–trying not to lose his mind right now. Touya is resplendent, and the tight, wet heat of being inside of him is– 

There aren’t really words, he thinks. 

“Goddamn,” he breathes, somewhere in Touya’s shoulder. He’s about halfway in, and Touya still hasn’t made a single sound. It’s–worrying, actually. “How are you–doing?” he asks, gripping his hips slightly. “Is it–okay? Are you good?” 

“Fine,” he mumbles, and his voice is punched out and raspy and goes straight to his dick in a way that’s probably not helpful to Touya’s ministrations at all. “... Did that really just make you get bigger?” he asks incredulously. 

“Sorry, sorry, that was–your voice is–” he says, suitably embarrassed as fuck. 

Touya tilts his head back to laugh a little breathlessly, exposing his throat, and Keigo realizes he’s left about six hickeys and three bite marks. They’ll all be covered by his hero suit, but fuck that’s something to look at. “Your neck’s a mess,” he murmurs. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really, really not.” 

“Then make it more of a mess,” Touya invites, tipping his head slightly to the side in invitation. Keigo leans forward, sucking another bruise into the side of his neck, and Touya finally lets out a little gasp, his hips rolling down another few centimeters. 

He starts toying with his chest again, running his fingers back and forth, pinching and rolling each bud in turn just to hear the soft little gasps of surprise. Touya leans forward, and his hands slide over his shoulders into his feathers on accident, brushing in between his wings. 

Keigo bites down, a low groan in his throat at the feeling of his fingers carding through his feathers, his nails scraping through the lining of his lesser coverts, shocked by the wave of heat it sends; he never thought his wings were particularly sensitive. He thinks it might just be because it's Touya touching them.

“Ah! Fuck,” Touya groans, suddenly sliding down the last inch or so, fully seated in his lap. “God, yeah, yes,” he gasps. “Come on, please, please, tell me, tell me what I can scream right now, please.” He drags his fingers through the feathers again, then carefully braces himself, lifting back off a few inches and then rolling back down, working out a few experimental thrusts to test out a rhythm he likes. 

Keigo moans brokenly. “You–you didn’t want it,” he reminds him desperately, his hands gripping his hips tightly, trying to hold onto some semblance of resolve because this is just one night, this is just one night. 

“Want it now. I’m asking,” Touya snaps. He grabs Hawks’ jaw, and he opens his eyes, staring at him, wide-eyed. “Doesn’t have to be more than your name if you don’t want it to be. Just give me something I can–fuck–say right now,” he says. His face is flushed, his eyes slightly hazy, his hips grinding down at a pace that’s just a touch slower than Hawks wants, but God the face Touya is making, the sounds pouring out of his mouth, the request he’s making–it’s almost enough for him to forget what this night is supposed to be. Almost. 

“Touya,” he begs. 

“Tell me your name,” he growls. “If you want to use mine, I need to know yours.” 

He knows it’s going to hurt later. God, it’s going to flay him alive when he gives away his name to Touya, and Touya doesn’t want to keep him. But he can’t say ‘no’ to him. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever been able to say ‘no’ to Touya. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying. 

Touya grinds down, gripping a hand into his hair with a particularly wicked tug, his other hand so gentle as it cards through his feathers, and his resolve snaps like old twine.

“K-Keigo,” he gasps. 

“Keigo,” Touya moans, tipping his head back. He picks up the pace, like that was all he needed to finally let go. 

“Touya, fuck,” he gasps, thrusting up to meet him. “Touya, Touya, Touya,” he chants, because he loves the sounds of his name, loves how it tastes on his tongue, loves that he’s allowed to say it. 

“Close, Keigo,” Touya warns. 

“Same, yeah,” he groans, dragging him in for a rough kiss. It devolves quickly after that–it’s inelegant and rough and without rhythm. He feels Touya’s hips stutter, and he pulls back to watch as his eyes shut tightly, his body trembling, his head thrown back. “Keigo–ah! ” he gasps, breathless, quiet even in the throes of an orgasm, and God it’s the most beautiful thing that Keigo’s ever seen. He’s falling off the ledge seconds after him, and he didn’t even think to ask whether he should pull out or not, so he–doesn’t.

Oops. 

Touya doesn’t seem to mind, just holding onto him through it, gasping breathlessly and grinding down in small little circles until he’s done. 

There’s a long pause as they catch their breath, Touya slumped over onto him, his chin resting on his shoulder, a hand resting in his feathers. 

“... Well. Exit survey?” Touya asks. 

Hawks snorts. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks. 

“10/10, would fuck again? 2/10, No, thanks? Solid 5/10, Should have brought some Andes mints for the road?” Touya muses, still sounding somewhat dazed and fucked out. 

“Do you–do you always get an exit survey?” Hawks asks, laughing in delight, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

Touya huffs. “How often do you think I do this, exactly?” he asks. He shifts, making an uncomfortable little noise. “I’m going to get off of you,” he warns, carefully lifting off and away. His knees buckle, and Hawks catches him, carefully guiding him off to the side so he can lay down. 

“... Do you… not do this often?” he asks curiously, tilting his head. 

“I asked you first. Tell me how often you think I do this, Birdie,” he says, amused. “Do I fuck like I’m a one-night-stand pro?” 

Hawks watches him, curious. Touya looks up at him through his lashes, and if it were anyone else, Hawks would call the tells on his face… nervous. 

He leans down to look at him more closely. 

Touya smirks, and he’s… really not sure anymore. 

“... Thousand out of ten, Touya,” he says, entirely too earnestly, because if there’s even a chance that Touya is nervous about what just happened, he can’t not soothe that. He leans down the rest of the way, kissing him one more time. He puts his hand on the side of Touya’s face, holding him there for just a moment longer. 

It’s… probably a little too revealing, the kiss, he thinks. 

But it’s also probably the last kiss Touya will give him. So, he takes, leaning forward to press closer to him, memorizing the taste of his lips, the feel of the tongue ring that peeks through periodically to tease at him, the soft sighs of content. 

Touya pulls back slowly, carefully, like he doesn’t want to either. “... Where’s your shower, Birdie?” he asks. 

“I’ll show you?” he offers. 

Touya hums, and that’s enough of a confirmation. He’ll take anything he can get. It’s one night, and he’ll take it for as long as he can have it. He crawls over him, then turns to scoop him off of the bed. 

“Woah–shit! I thought you were just gonna walk me over,” he says, snorting, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“After your knees buckled? I don’t think so. Definitely called for a princess carry,” Hawks says cheerfully. 

“My knees did not buckle,” Touya argues, glaring at him. 

“Sure, okay,” he replies easily. “Open that door for me,” he says, tilting his head toward the door in front of them. The bedroom links to the master bathroom. Touya rolls his eyes, twisting the handle, and Hawks walks them in. “Bath or a shower?” he checks. 

“Shower. I’m gross,” he says, shifting. Hawks nods, walking over to the shower section of the bathroom, next to the large tub. He sets Touya down. It’s one of the bathrooms with a drain in the middle of the room, so the ‘shower’ is half of the bathroom, and the tub is next to it. It makes cleanup easy, and it gives him plenty of space when he needs to wash his wings properly.

Touya is… quiet. Hawks rinses him off, and Touya cleans himself out, a quick, perfunctory process. He tips his head back, letting him wet his hair, running his fingers through it. It’s soft and thick. When the water hits it, it falls from its normal messy array, drooping around his face in silvery-white locks. 

He turns off the water, grabbing shampoo and sudsing it between his hands. He works it into Touya’s hair, lightly scraping at his scalp, pulling his fingers through the strands. He’s careful to be gentle, to not press too hard with his nails. Touya closes his eyes, sighing quietly. 

“Feels good?” Keigo checks. 

“... Good,” Touya murmurs.

“Good. Gonna rinse it out now.” He tips his head back, carefully, and flicks the water back on, rinsing out his hair. Touya hums, letting him do it. He repeats the process with the conditioner, letting it sit for a moment while he moves on to the body wash. The idea of Touya smelling like him is… a little intoxicating actually, so he’s trying not to dwell on it too heavily. 

He starts at his neck, sliding his hands down his shoulders, then down his back. Along his sides. He slips around the front to get the front of him, along his collarbones, his chest, his stomach. He slides down to his knees easily, rubbing his thumbs into his hips, his thighs, working out some of the tension that lingers from their night.

“... Keigo.” Touya’s voice is so soft.

“Touya,” Keigo replies quietly. 

“... This is just for tonight,” Touya says, and his voice is… so small. Keigo can’t tell if it’s a question. 

Keigo doesn’t pause, continuing along his thigh and down to his knee. He sighs quietly. “It’s always been whatever you want it to be,” he replies. And you want it to be just for tonight. 

“No,” Touya says, sounding slightly less certain. 

Keigo glances up at him. He raises a brow. “No?” 

“No. This is just for tonight,” he says again, sounding frustrated. 

Does he want him to agree? Is that the game? Keigo doesn’t know. He’s not sure what the game is anymore. If there even is a game. 

He thinks back to the interview, to his ‘penchant for uncomfortable truths.’ Maybe it’s time for one of those. 

Keigo gets up, picks up the shower head, and turns on the water. “Tip your head back,” he murmurs. Touya obliges, and he rinses out his hair. “Touya. This. Me? It’s whatever you want it to be,” he says slowly. “I don’t know how to make it clearer. If you want it to be just tonight… Then it’s just tonight.” 

Touya stares at him for a long time. Keigo holds his gaze, watching for any emotion he can find, but his expression is… unreadable. He’s not sure what’s going on in his head, and it makes him so damn nervous he can barely breathe. 

“... I’m going to borrow some of your clothes, and then I’m going to sleep,” Touya says finally. He turns, and leaves the bathroom. 

Hawks watches him go.

Chapter Text

Touya’s made a mistake. 

He knows he’s made a mistake the moment he walks into Hawks’ apartment, the moment Hawks spins him around and kisses him. It’s not his first kiss, but it’s the only kiss that’s ever made him feel like that. 

Everything that comes after? 

That’s a first. 

Tenko was the only other person who had ever kissed him, and it was… nothing like what Hawks had done. Tenko kissed either like it was a job he didn’t particularly like, or like it was a fight that he was winning. Fucking was always out of the equation, because Tenko said the chances of him grabbing his waist and killing him were too high to make it worth it, and Touya never really thought he cared about sex all that much anyway. 

He didn’t, really, when he was younger, when everything hurt all the time, and he was generally covered in fresh burns and bandages. Tenko never really bothered to make him feel like he was–attractive, anyway, so even if he had been interested in sex, he’s not sure he would have been able to try. 

Touya had thought Tenko was attractive, at the time, of course, but he never expected it to be returned. He didn’t realize that anyone could think he was attractive in return. Tenko always called him pretty, but he always followed it up with how annoying it was, or a comment about how it was a shame that he was covered in burns in a way that made it clear that it was a joke, that he wasn’t really pretty. His personality was never much to write home about, either–he was too cold, too impersonal, and had too much of ‘a penchant for uncomfortable truths’ as Kinoshita had put it. He had resigned himself to being one who loved, not one who was loved, but the kiss with Hawks shattered that. Hawks kissed him like he was the only person in the world, his hands so gentle on either side of his face, his eyes squeezed shut like he was scared to open them and realize it was all a dream, his body shaking very slightly, and it all just–unraveled so quickly after that. 

Touya spent the rest of the evening scrabbling for any control he could find, trying to make the night good for Hawks, for Keigo, constantly being knocked flat by the softest gestures, the way he kissed along his spine, the way he whispered his name, the way he washed his hair afterward. 

“This. Me? It’s whatever you want it to be. I don’t know how to make it clearer. If you want it to be just tonight… Then it’s just tonight.” 

Touya stares at the ceiling of his own bedroom. He’d slept next to Hawks for a few hours, curled into his arms, smelling like his body wash, wrapped in his arms, in his wings, then woken up before him and crept out like a goddamn hidden mistress well before the sun rose, grabbing the pieces of his costume and putting them on haphazardly in the living room so he could sneak out and do a proper walk of shame back to his house because–Keigo probably liked him. Maybe even loved him. And that was a lot to deal with, because he–wasn’t worth that.

Jesus. 

What a mess. 

He hears a knock on his door. “Yeah?” he asks. 

Natsuo pokes his head in. “Saw your boots. Glad you’re alive,” he says, frowning. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. He comes in, sitting on the ground next to his futon. Touya’s bedroom is pretty bare–just a futon and a dresser, with all of the pieces of his costume sprawled about across the floor. He’s never needed much. 

“Probably better if I weren’t,” he mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Don’t say that,” Natsuo says sharply. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“... I was really worried. What the hell happened?” he asks. 

“Tenko killed Thunder Dome,” he says. “And Matrix and Takeshita died in a fight across town.” 

“... Shit,” Natsuo hisses. “What the fuck, Touya?” 

“So I–I went home with Hawks,” he says quickly, spitting out all of his sins at once, so Natsuo knows what all to be mad about. “It was so stupid, ‘Tsuo,” he groans. “ Fuck, I’m an idiot. I was angry, and Tenko–he’s a goddamn villain now,” he says, pressing his palms against his eyes. “He killed someone. He threatened to kidnap me for fun. And I–I just–all I could remember was how he… didn’t love me. People died, and I was just sitting there thinking about how pathetic I was in high school.” 

Natsuo shifts, looking moderately uncomfortable and completely confused. Touya doesn’t blame him–he never talked a lot about Tenko while they were together. Most of the time when he was at home, he was fully focused on them, on making sure they were taken care of. There had never been a lot of time to focus on what Touya was doing in school beyond how it helped his plans to escape, and it wasn’t like he could ever bring his boyfriend to Endeavor’s house to meet the family. “... What?” he asks. “What do you mean he didn’t love you? I thought–I thought you two…” 

Touya laughs hollowly. “We did. He liked having me. I was a good ‘party member’ with ‘good stats,’ and the fact that I was in love with him was a good incentive for me to stay with him. But he didn’t love me, Natsuo,” he says, dropping his arms to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t even think he fucking liked me all that much.” 

“Touya,” Natsuo says carefully. “I think you–need to take a second and breathe. Sit up, maybe.” He probably does. He’s distantly aware that he’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, that his eyes are watery. 

“No, it’s just–it’s really fucking funny, isn’t it? God, I’m so fucking pathetic. I really do just throw myself at anyone who looks at me twice without thinking about it, don’t I?” Touya laughs. He hadn’t even realized Keigo probably had real feelings with him until–until they were in the moment, the stupid, rushed, way-too-fast, not planned, unromantic moment, repeating over and over that it was only one night; he was so goddamn stupid. He shoves himself to his feet. “Fuck!” 

“Touya–hang on! You don’t–you’re blowing this way out of proportion, Hawks doesn’t think you threw yourself at him; he likes you,” Natsuo says quickly, desperately. 

“That’s the fucking problem, Natsuo!” he yells, throwing his hands up. 

Natsuo glares, hackles raised now that he’s being properly yelled at. “Why the hell is that a problem?” he shouts back. 

“Because I just fucked it all up! I just went and–and–” He throws a hand out. “I ruined it! I dragged him home for a shitty one-night stand neither of us was ready for! Because of Tenko, because of someone who never even fucking liked me! Because I’m bad luck, because I’m–wrong! Useless! Not worth anything!” He spins around, slamming a fist into the wall because if he doesn’t, he’s going to burst into flames. Fuck, he hates having the sparks of his father’s temper. 

He hears a clatter, and he looks back. Natsuo is a few steps back, hands braced on his dresser, staring at him blankly. He–stepped back? It looks almost like he flinched away and tripped. 

Natsuo flinched away from him?

Touya stares at him, horrified, for a silent moment. “... I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. He turns, very slowly stepping away from him, opens the door, and walks out.

Natsuo doesn’t follow him.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

It’s cold. He had changed into some regular clothes when he got home, a high-necked shirt that doesn’t quite cover all the bites on his neck and jeans, but it’s rounding toward winter and it’s almost not enough for the January chill in the air. It doesn’t really matter, he guesses. He probably deserves to freeze.

He’s at a park, laying across the top of a set of monkey bars, relishing in the slight pain-pinch of the bars in his spine, staring at the sky as it slowly lightens into day. He thinks it’s probably been a number of hours since he left home. 

He doesn’t have his phone, so he has no idea what time it is. 

He doesn’t have his hero costume, so he can’t really use his Quirk safely. 

He doesn’t think he really cares. 

“Hey, dude. Are you dead?” a voice calls. 

Touya sighs, tipping his head to the side. A woman stands nearby, looking at him with obvious interest. She’s tall–almost as tall as he is, actually. Her hair is short, pulled back in a ponytail, a violent shade of orange. Her eyes are mismatched, like Shouto’s–one is bright blue, ringed in orange, while the other is bright orange, ringed in blue. 

Her clothes look comfortable, a pair of black workout pants, a black hoodie with an Aperture logo, and sneakers. He notices she’s wearing fingerless gloves. 

“... I don’t guess we’re going to have a civil conversation,” he says slowly. It’s a guess, but not quite a shot in the dark. Her eyes–they’re too close to the color of the portals Tenko dropped through. She’s not making any effort to hide them. And the hoodie, of course, an obvious nod to her nickname. 

Chell grins. “That’s all up to you, Comet. I’m just curious,” she says, holding up her hands. 

His eyes narrow. He sits up slowly, turning to face her. “Curious about what?” 

“Shimura. You seemed to know him,” she says, rocking back on her heels. “He seems to know you.” 

“... And?” he asks. 

“And I’m curious,” she repeats, leaning forward. “Shimura won’t tell us anything about himself. Just his name, and what we can find online. He vanished a few years ago, and the official sources are lacking. But you–you riled him up something good. He dusted half of the furniture when he got back,” she says, sounding delighted. “Ranted and scratched and muttered for a good four hours. So. Who are you to him? What’d you do to him?” 

Touya laughs because–sure. Okay. He did something. 

Why not. 

“You’ve got ten seconds before I immolate you,” he tells her, pushing off so he can land on his feet. He stalks toward her. 

“Ooh, I’m so scared!” she says. She clicks her fingers, opening a portal behind her, and steps through it, appearing somewhere off to his left. “Terrified of the big bad Comet!” she chirps. The portal snaps shut behind her. She doesn’t snap her fingers, so she can release them without a signal, he notes. 

He swivels to stare at her, unimpressed. “Do you only know how to run away?” he asks. 

“Do you only know how to posture and growl like an angry little dog?” Chell returns politely. 

Dammit, he’s so stupid for not bringing anything with him. He doesn’t have his phone, he doesn’t have his earpiece, he doesn’t have his suit, he has nothing. He glances around quickly to see if he can signal anyone, but it’s still early. No one is around quite yet; he thinks it might be a Sunday. No one is ever out this early on a Sunday. 

Fuck. 

“My bite’s worse than my bark,” he promises, mirroring her as she steps back. He considers using his Quirk at long range, but it would burn through his arm quickly. He doesn’t think he can afford to burn that way, not when she can portal. He’ll need to have hands on her before he uses his Quirk, which means he needs to get close.

“Someone’s definitely is,” she says, smirking. “Your neck looks like a chew toy. Honestly.” 

Touya shrugs. “Ran into a few assholes last night. Figured I’d go blow off some steam,” he says blandly. He darts forward, making a quick grab for her. She steps neatly to the side, vanishing into a portal on the ground that snaps shut almost as fast as it opens. She pops up behind him, launching a few inches into the air. She grabs his hair, yanking his head back. Her free arm swings up, and he feels something sharp just under his chin. 

“You know, I thought about doing the same,” she muses. “But some asshole burned my girlfriend,” she hisses in his ear, her voice dripping with venom. 

Ah. 

Well. 

Shit. 

“You should tell your girlfriend not to threaten to kill people if she doesn’t want to get burned,” he hisses back at her. “There’s an old adage about playing with fire, you know.” 

“You–” 

Touya squeezes his eyes shut, not listening anymore, accepting that he’s going to get more scars, and reaches for the heat in his chest to flare his fire along his back, to burn–

“Comet!” 

His eyes fly open. 

“Shit!” Chell gasps, dropping the knife under his chin, blood dripping from her hand. There’s a red feather embedded in the back of her hand, almost all the way through. She staggers back, clicking her fingers on her other hand, and falls backwards through a portal. 

Touya makes a grab for her, but he misses, off-balance and confused by the dying heat in his chest, the surprise of Hawks hurtling toward the park. Hawks lands hard, half tumbling across the dirt, and makes a mad grab for Chell as well. His gloved hands grab at her hood, feathers flying for her, and she makes a choked noise, yanking out of his grip before the portal snaps shut. The feathers embed in the ground where the portal was. 

“Ugh,” Hawks groans, flopping down face first into the dirt. 

Touya pushes his hair back, sighing. He looks at the knife on the ground. “... Wanna bag that? Looks like it’s still got her blood on it,” he says, nodding toward it from his own sprawled position in the first. “I don’t have my gloves.” 

“Yeah. One sec. I think I twisted my… yeah. Everything,” he says into the dirt. 

Touya snorts, pushing up into a sitting position. “... Portal Quirks suck,” he says. He looks over, seeing some of his feathers twisted around, snapped and facing the wrong way. He sighs, looking away. He’s not in a position to ask if he can help. He snuck out like an idiot. He pulls his knees up toward his chest. “Your feathers are broken,” he mutters. 

“... Yeah. I know. I can feel them,” he replies, pushing himself up into a sitting position with a grimace. He leans over, grabbing the knife carefully. He pats his pockets with the other hand, then grabs an evidence bag, tossing it in and sealing it. He tucks it away, pulling out his phone and sending off a text. Then clicks around for a moment, then types out something else. 

Hawks sighs, looking up at him. “Why don’t you have your phone?” he asks, sounding tired. 

Touya looks away. “Forgot it.” 

“And your suit? The thing that lets you use your Quirk without burning alive?” he asks. 

“... Didn’t stop to put it on,” he says. 

“And you just… left the house for…” He looks at his phone. “Four and a half hours, right after three heroes died, right after someone threatened to kidnap you, with no way to protect yourself, and no way to call for help,” Hawks says, his brows furrowed. 

Touya runs his hands through his hair, frustrated, because he doesn’t have a counterargument to any of that. He did do that, and it was stupid, and he can’t tell Hawks he did it because they fucked and he’s stressed about it and not thinking straight because that’s… not fair. “Why are you here?”

Hawks stands up, wings bristling. “Why am I here?” he asks incredulously. “What the hell do you mean, why am I here? Why are you here, Touya?” he asks. 

Touya flinches. “Don’t–don’t–” He can’t handle Hawks using his name here, outside of the night he got, the night he ruined.

“Stand up,” Hawks says sharply, cutting him off.

Touya stands up, looking away, uncomfortable. 

“I’m not trying to push you. I won’t take anything you won’t give me,” he says, his voice flat. He takes off his visor, running a hand over his face. “That’s not important right now, anyway. We can talk about… that. Later. I’m here because Natsuo called me, freaking the fuck out because you left the house without your phone, and he had no idea where you went. He thought you were dead.” 

Touya looks down, shoulders curling in. Hawks sounds so mad, and Touya can’t even blame him. He’s supposed to be in charge, he’s supposed to take care of them, of Natsuo, of Fuyumi, of Shouto, and he just–ran away, like a child. Of course Hawks is mad. He likes them; he met them–it’s hard not to like his siblings. Anything that hurts them is worth being angry at. 

Touya never wanted to be one of the things that hurt them, any of them. He tried so hard to never be one of those things, but he’s not perfect. He’s so far from it sometimes it feels like he’s not even decent half of the time. 

“... I scared him,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“... Is that what you think happened,” he says flatly. 

“I punched a wall, like an asshole. He was trying to get away from me. I’m–I’m no better than–than…” Fuck, it’s hard to breathe. 

“He was trying to get over to you, and he got tangled in your costume,” Hawks interrupts. “He was trying to get to you to grab you so that you didn’t hurt yourself, and you freaked the fuck out and left. Natsuo is not scared of you, Touya. He thought he scared you.” 

“What?” he asks, staring at him.

“He said he tripped, banged into the dresser, and you flinched. Then you apologized and ran out. He thought you were out here freaking the fuck out,” Hawks says firmly. 

“He thinks–he thinks he… No, nonono,” he says, shaking his head. “He doesn’t. He didn’t.” 

“Neither did you,” Hawks says firmly. “Neither of you are him. Now, let me see your hand,” he commands. 

Touya offers his left hand. It’s bruised, knuckles split and bleeding freely, trembling. It had been seen to last night, only to reopen against his wall this morning, and then again in the struggle against Chell. Hawks frowns.

“Can I wrap it, or do you need to?” he asks. 

“I can do it,” he says quietly. 

“Not what I asked.” 

“... I don’t need to,” he amends, voice small. Hawks nods, pulling a small first aid kit out of one of the pouches of his pants. Touya automatically reaches out, holding it for him with his right hand, so Hawks can comb through it. He grabs an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area quickly. 

It stings. He thinks he probably deserves that, too. 

Hawks grabs a tube next, pulling off a glove to rub a cream into the wounds on his knuckles next, something that soothes the sting as if to wipe away the thought immediately. He wipes away the excess on his jeans, tugging his glove back on quickly, then grabs a roll of bandages and a small piece of gauze, setting the gauze across his knuckles then expertly and quickly wrapping up his hand. 

The process is efficient, quick, yet somehow still… soft. 

He shoves all of the garbage into a pocket, clicks the kit closed, and tucks it away. He glances around, making sure no one is nearby, then lifts his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the bandages. “Better,” he says quietly. 

Touya lets out a shaky laugh. “... Shouto did that once. He was–young. He watched me bandage my arms and just…” He nods toward his hand, where Hawks had pressed a kiss. “Asked if it was better now.” 

Hawks grins. “Smart kid,” he says. “It’s the best medicine around, y’know.” 

Touya runs his thumb over the edge of the bandages, staring at his hand for a moment. “... Thanks,” he murmurs. “For… For coming to get me. Sorry that Natsuo raised the alarms.” 

“Better that he did. Chell could’ve killed you,” he says, frowning. 

Touya straightens up. Right. Chell. He was a hero, and he should report the new information he has about the villain. “She said I burned her girlfriend,” he says. “Which means she has to be dating the leader, Crush. And that my flames connected better than we thought.” 

Hawks straightens up, too. “... Okay. Come on, I’ll walk you home while I text Tsukauchi. You can suit up, and we’ll head in and see what we’ve got so far from the police reports,” he says. 

Touya nods, setting off toward his house. Hawks falls into step next to him. 

“What else did she say? Anything important?” he asks. 

Touya shrugs. “Not really. A lot of posturing. She seemed like she wanted to know how I knew Tenko more than anything else. She said he dusted half of their furniture.” 

Hawks’ wings twitch. “... Was that typical when he was angry, or is that an escalation?” he asks, his voice impassive. 

Touya glances at him. His face is flat in the way that he seems to think is unreadable, but his wings keep flicking slightly, irritated, his shoulders slightly more tense than usual. He’s angry. “It was typical when we knew each other,” he answers slowly, trying to parse out the reason for the emotion. “You good, Birdie? Wings hurt?” he asks. 

Hawks blinks, tilting his head. “My wings are fine,” he answers. 

“Well… no, but alright,” he says, looking back ahead. His feathers are all fucked on the left wing, but he doesn’t think he’s allowed to ask to help. Not after last night. The noises he made when Touya ran his fingers through them are still seared into his mind like a brand. 

Hawks puts his hands in his pockets like he’s thinking. “... Why did you love Tenko?” he asks carefully. 

Touya stops walking. They’re at the edge of the park. He turns to him, brows raised. “Why do you want to know?” he asks. 

“I guess I just want to know what it takes to make you love someone,” Hawks says. 

Touya stares at him. 

What an absurd fucking statement. 

Hawks–Keigo wants to know what it takes to make Touya love someone, like he doesn’t already know. 

Touya laughs–abruptly, a sharp, loud noise. He covers his mouth. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just–a little funny. You’re going to think I’m… so goddamn pathetic when you hear it. I almost don’t want to tell you,” he says. “Fuck.” 

Keigo shakes his head. “I won’t think you’re pathetic,” he counters, crossing his arms. 

He smiles warily. “He threw a roll of bandages on my chest and told me to ‘stop bleeding on the damn floor’,” he says. “We had just sparred. I lost. I burned myself. And he did that instead of leaving me there like he usually did when we sparred. Then when I finished cleaning myself up, he sat next to me and asked if I wanted a turn on his game.” 

Keigo stares at him, his pupils narrowed into slits. 

“Really. That’s all he did. That was more than I ever deserved at the time,” he says, laughing. He tips his head back, looking at the sky. “I was… really fucked in the head, Birdie. I probably still am. I don’t know what to do with this,” he says, waving his bandaged hand. “I’m not sure what to do with… you, honestly.” If there’s even an option anymore.

Keigo shrugs. “Anything you want,” he replies quietly, eyes intent.

“That’s terrifying,” Touya replies, laughing. “You have no idea what I want to do with you. Why do you trust me? What if I’m horrible?” he asks. 

“I trust you because you’re not,” he replies. 

Touya blinks. Then blinks again, horrified to feel the rapid onset of tears. “... Fuck you?” he says, because what the hell. 

Keigo laughs for a moment, then sighs. “... I do have things I need to tell you, before we… Before we do this properly, if we do this properly,” he says quietly. “Things we need to talk about. But above all, I needed you to know that I do trust you.” 

He looks away, angrily wiping across his face. “Presumptuous, aren’t you?” he mutters. “Never said we were doing anything.”

“We don’t have to,” he says. “But… in the interest of being kind, in the interest of being straightforward, I want to.” 

“I don’t understand why,” Touya says, frowning at him.

“That’s because you don’t think you’re kind,” Keigo says, frowning at him. “I do. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. And the most honest.” He shrugs.

Touya stares at him. “I’m… not kind,” he says slowly. 

“You are. You think of everyone before yourself. It’s… a little infuriating sometimes, actually. But it’s impossible not to–” Keigo pauses and looks away. “Anyway. I stand by it. I’ll wait for you to figure out whatever you need to figure out. In the meantime, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” he says. 

“And that’s kind?” he asks, laughing hollowly. “Making you wait, while I figure out how to–be a person who can, what, be with you properly? Or–at all, even?”

Keigo grins. “I’m okay being the one person you don’t have to always be kind for, Touya. You can be a little selfish.” 

Touya looks away. “... I… Alright.” He runs a hand across his face, thinking. “I–I need to talk to Natsuo. We’ll–we’ll figure this out later.” 

He nods, and Touya watches him shrug back on his Hawks persona, turning to walk down the sidewalk. He falls into step beside him, thoughts swirling. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Keigo wakes up to Touya slipping out of the bedroom like a secret that morning. It hurts just about as much as he expects it to, but… Touya never lied to him about what it was, and he thinks, if he gives him enough time, he might be able to have more. 

But in order to have that, he thinks he’s going to have to come clean about who Keigo Takami is, and where he came from. He just… doesn’t think now is the time. Touya has too much happening, too much to deal with to deal with this, too. 

So, they’ll just have to–be okay with the one night. And Keigo really thinks he can do that–he does! He gets up, gets dressed, and walks out into the livingroom, freezing when he sees his handler, Nakahara standing inside his doorway, giving his discarded jacket and shirt an unimpressed stare. 

“... Did you have fun, Hawks?” she asks, nudging it out of the way with one boot. She walks into his apartment, her shoes tapping across the floor. “Did you think that three casualties entitled you to a night off?”

Hawks shakes his head. “No.” 

She hums, crossing her arms. “... Why Comet, exactly?” she asks, eyes narrowed. 

Hawks tilts his head. “He’s the number two hero’s son, obviously,” he answers. It’s an easy lie, one that he’s had prepared for a while just in case they asked why he was interested in Comet or trying so hard to befriend him. It works for this, too, he thinks. He hopes. “I’ve been working on him for a while. He was distraught after last night. It was an in,” he says with an easy shrug. He’s lying to his handler. He’s–never done that before. 

He’s never lied to anyone in the commission before, actually, he doesn’t think. There’s never been a reason to. He’s avoided telling them things, like that he flew extra loops on his patrol for fun, or that he got some extra food from a fan, or things like that. But this is–different. It’s an outright lie. 

“Then you’re aware he wants nothing to do with Endeavor,” she says flatly. 

“For now,” Hawks says, waving a dismissive hand. “Endeavor keeps buying out his contracts. It’ll be easy enough to mend that bond and get a foothold. And if not, Comet’s going to be a valuable asset, regardless. I’m working on moving him to my agency. He could easily be a top ten hero with a little work, someone good to know, but easily manipulated.” The words taste like acid in his mouth even if it’s–more or less true in the way that it’s… something that could be feasibly true, if that were why he was doing this. “The joint interview we did is going to be enough to push me up a few spots in the rankings alone; plus once we manage to close out this case and clear out whoever is pushing Trigger together, that’ll push us up even further.” 

“Hmmmm.” She considers him thoughtfully. “You have been reporting that you’re working with him often…” she says, like she’s thinking about it. 

Hawks shrugs. 

“I can’t afford to take you off the scene with three casualties, so your punishment for allowing them to happen will have to wait,” she says. “Ensure there are no more, Hawks. Everything goes perfectly,” she says sternly. “Do not get distracted with Comet. Use him as long as he’s an asset, and start adding updates to your report on what he’s gaining for you. If he stops being an asset, cut him loose.” 

Hawks nods once. 

“If he starts distracting you, we’ll take care of it,” she continues easily, and he feels his insides turn cold. He nods immediately anyway, because that’s what she expects, because that’s what will make things safer for Touya.

But, he’s startled to realize that if they lay a hand on Touya, he’s… not sure what he’ll do. He doesn’t think it’ll be rational. It definitely won’t be good. He’s starting to think that might be true no matter who lays a hand on Touya. He’s–more protective than he’s ever been of someone else, and he’s not entirely sure what to do with these feelings. He can’t act on them. Touya isn’t his. 

‘Better question, does he know that you're not his?’ Tenko’s voice drips through his mind like poison, the memory of his crimson eyes flicking over to him in amusement, his hand gripping Touya’s jaw like it belonged there burning in his mind. 

Nakahara sighs. “Once this case is over, you’ll be taking a week off for re-education. Your performance is… lacking lately.” 

Hawks looks away, nodding once. “Understood,” he murmurs. 

Not ideal. Re-education was generally a week of intensive training under strict supervision. He would have to come up with some kind of excuse that Touya would agree with. 

Or he would have to tell him. 

Hawks thinks of Touya, of his bright blue eyes, staring through him. 

He’ll have to tell him. Touya will know if he lies. 

Touya always seems to know when he lies. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hawks is at his agency, flipping through records on Tenko Shimura. 

His past is… checkered, in generous terms. He has reports about the manifestation of his Quirk, and the loss of one Hana Shimura’s arm. She’s doing well now, it seems–she’s a shop owner with a repair Quirk that lets her mend small damages. Their father is in psychiatric care for developing what the file claims is a ‘severe paranoia that Tenko will target him’ after his prison stint for trying to remove Tenko’s fingers at five years old. Their mother seems to have given up custody of him for a period of about seven years before being restored as his guardian at the age of thirteen. 

Tenko’s record is… rough, during those seven years. It’s the picture of an angry kid, getting into fights, stealing, and causing problems. The problem is that the kid can cause a lot of damage with a Quirk like his–not quite so much as he did with Hana, during his Quirk awakening, but he does damage quite a few kids in foster care, disintegrating layers of skin, muscle tissue, and causing permanent, life-changing wounds that way a number of times. He’s cleared over and over because it’s self defense–bigger kids ganging up on him. 

Hawks wonders, though. 

The interviews with the other kids are all… eerily similar. They all seemed to have something Tenko wanted, and weren’t willing to give it up when the fight started. A toy, a game, a stuffed animal, whatever it might have been. They all claim that Tenko came up to them . But because they’re bigger, or their Quirks are more combative, Tenko gets off without too much in the way of discipline in the beginning years. 

As the years go on, the balance tips out of Tenko’s favor; he starts to lose fights. By the time his mother gets him back, he’s been losing more fights than he’s won. He’s smaller, and that doesn’t seem to be working in his favor anymore. Maybe the bigger kids have more control over their Quirk, or they’re just more familiar with Tenko’s. Hawks can’t quite parse it out. 

When he comes back to his mother’s, he goes to a good middle school. His grades soar. His record cleans up for a few years. He gets into Shiketsu. It’s good for two years. And then. 

Then there’s the report from the board, signed off by every member, as well as a report written in Touya’s handwriting, neat and clear even then, detailing how Tenko came to him in the night and said he would show them all and leave Shiketsu. 

The part Touya didn’t mention in the briefing is that Tenko tried to convince Touya to come with him– begged him to come along, it seems. That when he was dragged before the board, Tenko cursed and spat at Touya, calling him a traitor and hack for ‘switching teams.’ That Tenko told him they could have been each others’ forever, but he was too busy trying to be a hero in a society that would never appreciate him. 

Hawks taps his pen, reading through the report a few times, considering, remembering the desperate way Touya ran for Tenko, the way his face crumpled at the sight of him, like he couldn’t believe that he was really here, on the side of the villains. 

Hawks wonders if Touya still loves Tenko, and… he really doesn’t like that idea, frankly. 

His phone rings sometime around seven thirty, and he grabs it, answering it without looking. “Hawks here,” he says easily. 

“Hey! It’s–um–it’s Natsuo. Um. Natsuo Todoroki?” Natsuo’s voice is choked up slightly, uncertain. He sounds kind of like he might have cried recently, and Hawks is half on his feet, already moving toward the door. 

“What’s wrong, Natsuo?” he asks quickly. “Is–Comet okay?” he asks. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine! I’m–okay. I don’t know where Touya is, though,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “I–we had an argument, and I–I tripped, and he…” He coughs, like he’s trying to cover a sob. “I don’t know! I think I just. Made him jump, maybe. But it–I don’t know how much you know. How much did he–tell you?” he asks desperately. “I’m so sorry for dumping this on you, he just–he–”

“Natsuo. Breathe,” Hawks commands. “I know enough. You had an argument, and you tripped. Are you hurt?” he checks. 

“No, I’m not hurt. I just–ran into his dresser, and it made a loud noise, and he flinched,” Natsuo rambles. He can hear him pacing. “And he–he looked at me, and I’m–Hawks, you’ve seen Endeavor, I’m–fuck, I’m–big like he is, and I think he thought–I freaked him out, you know? So he just–left really fast. ‘Yumi’s been out looking for him, and I went looking. Shouto’s with Midoriya and his friend at home, but he’s freaked out in his own way.” 

“How long has it been?” he asks, kicking off into the air, scanning around. 

“Like–fuck, like four hours? He doesn’t have his phone. His suit’s still here, he can’t–he’ll hurt himself if he needs to protect himself,” Natsuo says, his voice cracking. 

“Four hours,” Hawks repeats. 

Touya left Hawks’ place at about three, so they talked and left pretty much right after. And he’s just been–out. Since then. Doing God knows what, if Tenko hasn’t already kidnapped him. 

Fuck. 

“Call me next time,” Hawks commands. “Anytime, day or night. I can always look, I don’t mind, Natsuo. Promise.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry. I’m sorry. If you find him, tell him I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “Just–get him to come home, please.” 

“I’ll find him,” he promises.

And he will. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

When Hawks drops him back off with Natsuo, he’s… distinctly shakier. 

He almost lost Touya. Seeing him in Chell’s grip, a knife against his throat, had shaken him a lot more than he had anticipated. Keigo had been ready to kill her, and that was… new. 

Hawks was ready to do anything necessary. If killing was necessary, so be it. Hawks would do it. To save innocents, to keep Japan safe, to keep the world safe, Hawks would dirty his hands in an instant. Only if it were truly, undeniably necessary, of course–Hawks is a hero, through and through. 

Keigo, however, was a man, and he was… emotional. Killing was never something he was ready to do. His father had killed a man over pocket change, and he could never reconcile the taking of a life as something that would be necessary for… well… any reason. 

Right up until he’d seen Chell, holding a knife up to Touya’s throat. 

That was a good enough reason. 

If he could have killed her, right then and there, without risking Touya, he would have. Without hesitation. 

And, well, that was… a little terrifying, honestly. It put the feelings he’d had about Tenko holding his jaw in a new light, too–that hot anger wasn’t only possession, wasn’t only wild, misplaced jealousy. It was rage at the threat he posed, at the implicit threat of death, and promise of a return threat. 

Keigo thinks he would have killed Tenko, too, if the opportunity arose. 

Thinks he still might, if the opportunity arises. Just to keep Touya safe. 

Listening to Touya talk about Tenko only fuels that rage. The idea of Touya, small and thin, not quite grown into his confidence yet, getting roundly tossed into the dirt by the Tenko that he’s getting a picture of from the reports he’s reading? He hates it. The idea of them dating, arguing, and Tenko using his Quirk, disintegrating things in a rage to intimidate, to make a point? He hates it. He knows Touya, knows he wouldn’t have used his own back, even once. Wouldn’t have even flinched, because he would have been worried about Tenko thinking his Quirk was dangerous. 

Maybe that’s what loosens his tongue, makes him say too much. He offers himself, in any capacity Touya wants, and it’s presumptuous that Touya wants him at all, but maybe. Maybe. 

He thinks he does. Maybe even just a little. 

“Making you wait, while I figure out how to–be a person who can, what, be with you properly? Or–at all, even?”

It gives him hope–that Touya wants to be with him properly, that he just needs time. And that’s all he needs. 

He’s run longer on less, and he’ll take what he can get. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hawks walks Touya all the way back to his door, unwilling to let him out of his sight. The door slams open, and Natuso and Fuyumi tumble out, tripping over themselves to grab for Touya. Hawks quickly steps back, getting out of the way. 

Natsuo hesitates a foot away, standing back, eyes wide and slightly watery. Fuyumi pulls him in immediately, bringing him in for a hug. Shouto’s head pops out from the doorway, followed immediately by two other heads that Hawks doesn’t recognize. 

Touya stands rigid, arms out, looking almost–confused by the hug. 

“Don’t you dare run off like that again!” Fuyumi demands angrily. She steps back, glaring at him. “You scared us half to death!” 

“I… wasn’t gone that long,” he says slowly. 

“You didn’t have your suit, didn’t have your phone, someone said they were going to kidnap you not even a week ago! You know that’s not–it’s–it’s different right now!” she blusters, frowning. 

Touya slowly looks up at Natsuo, blinking, like he’s looking for backup. “I…” 

“I’m sorry,” Natsuo says quickly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t get to say anything before you left, but I’m so sorry.” 

“No. I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was just a misunderstanding,” Touya mumbles, his face immediately softening. “C’mere.” He holds out his arm, and Natsuo quickly steps into it, folding down smaller than Hawks thought possible. It’s quickly clear that Natsuo is younger, even if he’s bigger. He falls into being comforted so easily, and Touya comforts him so naturally that it’s clearly second nature. Touya puts a hand in his hair, grabbing Fuyumi and pulling her back in, too. “Sorry that I scared you both. I’m fine.” He leans down, mumbling to Natsuo, so quiet that he’s sure no one else would be able to overhear them–he doesn’t think he would be able to overhear if it weren’t for his better-than-average hearing. “I never thought you looked like him. Not for a second. Get that out of your head right now.” 

Natsuo’s breath hitches, and he buries his face in Touya’s shirt. 

Hawks turns away to give them privacy, looking to the three in the doorway. 

“Soooo. What’s up, Babyroki and co?” he asks. 

Shouto shrugs. “Thanks for bringing him home,” he mumbles, eyes still focused on Touya. 

“... Ohmygod, it’s Hawks,” one of them murmurs. He’s small with green hair and bright green eyes.

“Oi. Are you going to fucking introduce us, or are we just going to stand there and stare at him from your doorway?” The other one has blonde hair and red eyes and a permanent scowl. 

“Oh. Yeah. I can do that,” Shouto says thoughtfully. “Hawks, this is Midoriya and Bakugo. Bakugo and Midoriya, this is Hawks. He’s Touya’s…” He squints at Hawks. 

“Friend!” Hawks chirps helpfully. 

Shouto frowns. “... Friend,” he repeats dubiously. 

Midoriya covers his mouth. “I saw your interview with Comet; it was amazing! The way you talked about the ethics of sensationalizing heroes in modern society was fantastic–I have so many thoughts about how we discuss heroes versus celebrities, and how that affects the standing of–” 

“Nerd, let him breathe,” Bakugo says, putting a hand over his mouth to stem the tide of words. “Icyhot already heard this ramble.”

“Hawks hasn’t!” Midoriya argues, muffled.

“No, Hawks has not,” Hawks agrees. “Hawks is probably going to leave shortly, though, and it sounds like you’re winding up for a long one. Hit up Natsuo for my email and send it to me. Sounds interesting.” 

Midoriya looks kind of like he’s died, making a high pitched shrieking noise. 

Touya pats his shoulder, getting his attention, and he glances back. “You’re leaving?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“I was just dropping you back home. I was going to head back to the agency and go back through what’s been compiled,” he says. 

“Come in and have breakfast. Then we’ll go together,” Touya offers quietly. 

Fuyumi steps up beside him, nodding quickly. “Please. Let us thank you properly.” 

Hawks blinks. “... Uh… Sure,” he agrees, squinting at Touya for a moment. He doesn’t seem like he’s offering just to be polite. He doesn’t think Touya does that, anyway. Plus Midoriya really seems like he wants to talk about the interview, and Bakugo looks like he’d be fun to tease, aside. He follows the small crowd back inside. 

Touya glances at him, his face almost–nervous. “... Let me look at that wing?” he offers quietly, tilting his head toward the hallway. 

Hawks hesitates. “I can take care of it,” he replies. 

Touya shifts, running his thumb along the bandages on his knuckles, and Hawks catches on. 

“... But I don’t need to,” he amends, voice quieter. 

Touya leans forward, nodding. “Follow me,” he says. “We’ll be right back,” he calls to the group, who all seem to have spilled over toward the table. Bakugo is in the middle of a heated argument with Midoriya about… chilis? Unclear. Shouto doesn’t seem to have taken a side, but is looking between them, lips quirked in a way he wouldn’t be able to recognize as an amused smile if Touya didn’t do the same thing. 

Hawks follows Touya into the hall, and through to the room at the end. He opens the door, steps inside, and holds the door open for Hawks to come in as well. 

It’s a bedroom, mostly bare. There’s nothing on the walls at all. The closet has a few bins for storage. There’s a dresser, and then a futon mattress on the ground. There’s also, he notes, the scattered pieces of Comet’s hero suit on the ground. Touya leans down, scooping up the pieces, setting them on top of the dresser in a heap. 

“Sorry for the mess,” he mumbles. “Sit down,” he says, gesturing to the futon. 

Hawks sits down. “This is your room?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“Yeah.” 

“... Why don’t you have…” he trails off, looking around. 

Touya laughs. “I don’t need much,” he says. “S’not like I have much in the way of free time, and what I do have, I spend out there, anyway.” He settles down on his knees behind Hawks. “Stretch out your wing as much as you can, let me look. I’ll tell you before I touch anything.” 

Hawks winces, stretching it out. It’s sore. He can feel all of the snapped feathers. “Anything snapped is going to have to come out,” he says. 

“Can you send them out?” he asks curiously. 

“Not when they’re broken. They have to come out the fun way,” he says ruefully. “I was going to pull them when I got home.” 

“... How? Can you even see these? Doesn’t seem like you’d be able to get back here very easily. Going to touch,” he murmurs, gently running his fingers through the feathers near some of the broken secondaries, toward the bottom middle. He can feel it–it’s warm, soft, gentle. He leans into it, closing his eyes, a soft coo rumbling up through his chest. 

“... Uh… Yeah. Kind of. If I bend right. It’s a little difficult, but it’s doable.” It’s not–really, it’s hard, and he usually ends up grabbing the wrong ones a few times, and breaks more than he means to, actually. “Just grab at the base, twist and pull upwards against the growth pattern. They should come right out,” he says. “These ones weren’t–uh–really ready to come out? So um… it might bleed a little. That’s fine. I really can do it myself,” he adds. 

Touya shakes his head. “Give me a sec,” he murmurs. He runs his fingers through the feathers one more time, then gets up, opening a drawer in the dresser. He pulls out a small black case, then comes and sits back down. “First aid kit. Just in case,” he explains. “Gonna start on the inside and work my way out, unless you think it’s smarter to go the other way,” he muses. 

“Nope, that’ll work,” he says. 

“Alright. Count it out, or go for it?” Touya checks. 

“Just go for it. Counting just makes it–ah!” he says, jumping as Touya gently twists and pulls one of the feathers out. It barely stings, but the loss of sensation surprises him–the lack of pain surprises him more. Pulling feathers always hurts. He anticipates pain, but there’s… none. 

“Sorry, Birdie,” Touya murmurs sympathetically, moving right on to the next, repeating the motion. His hands are quick, efficient, and gentle. It… doesn’t hurt at all. He’s methodical, his cool fingers immediately soothing the area after he pulls away the feather, his free hand running his fingers through the unbroken feathers to provide a distraction. 

Keigo is leaning back toward him, eyes closed, feeling almost like he’s being preened by the time Touya cards his fingers through the feathers, then runs his fingers through the feathers on the right side as well, like he’s checking. “... Think I got them all. Feel okay?” he asks, voice quiet. 

He sits up, fluttering his wings slightly. “Yeah. It feels great, actually,” he says, surprised. 

Touya nods, looking away. He picks up the kit, tucking a few things away. He hadn’t even realized he’d taken anything out of it. He watches him put the kit away, watches him lean against the dresser, looking thoughtful. 

“... So… Who’s the blond?” he asks, tipping his head toward the door curiously, not quite ready to face whatever decision Touya’s come to while fixing his wings. 

Touya blinks, then sighs. “Midoriya’s friend. Apparently he showed up on the beach when Shouto came over to talk to Midoriya, and then they all got into an argument, and now they’re all friends. I don’t know exactly what happened, but the way Shouto keeps smiling about it is…” He rubs a hand over his face. “I was worried about one crush. I don’t know what to do with two.” 

Hawks laughs. “Oh, no,” he says. 

“Yeah. I don’t know what those two have going on with each other, but it’s a lot,” he mutters. “Shou is planting himself right in the middle of it, apparently, so… Not sure why he’s here right now, but whatever. Everyone is just using my house as a home base for lost children at this point,” he says irritably. 

Hawks grins, because he can tell by the slight curl of a smile to Touya’s lips that he’s not even remotely upset about it–he’s pleased. His house is a safe house, a place Shouto wants to bring his friends. Hawks can only imagine how good that feels for Touya. 

“Just wait ‘til he starts UA. You’ll get everyone in your house,” he says, snickering. “A whole class.” 

“Don’t wish that on me,” he says, frowning. “I don’t even like children.” 

Hawks laughs. “When does he start, anyway?” 

“He takes the entrance exam next month. February twenty-sixth. Endeavor kept trying to give him a recommendation, but he wanted to take the correct route,” he says with a shrug. “He didn’t want his help.” 

Hawks blinks. “Respect,” he says, nodding. 

“Yeah.” 

There’s a knock on the door. “Touya?” Fuyumi calls. 

“Come in,” he calls back. 

Fuyumi opens the door, leaning in. “Food’s ready. Come eat?” she asks, tilting her head. 

He nods. “Just a minute. Let me finish leaning up here,” he says. 

She nods. “Alright. We’ll wait.” She slips back out, shutting the door behind her. 

Touya ducks down, picking up the pile of broken feathers and gauze, walking it over to a small trashcan in the corner, tossing it. He offers his hands to Hawks. “Come on. Food, then let’s figure out this villain case, hm?” he asks. 

It almost feels normal between them.

Then he takes Touya’s hands, and all he can think about is how they felt on his sides, on his shoulders, gripping him tightly, the way his voice–

Almost. Almost normal.

Chapter Text

Touya is tired.

He slept about three hours with Hawks, and that’s about all he’s slept since his run-in with Tenko. He just… can’t. There’s too much to do, too much to consider, too many other people to check on that need his attention more. He spends most of the day and the night after his run-in with Chell roaming between Hawks’ agency and Gunhead’s agency, carrying reports back and forth, checking on different leads with some of the local police districts. Hawks sends him home around midnight, so he heads back to Gunhead’s and works there instead. 

The result is… not much useful. They get a bunch of routes to canvas, a lot of people to interview, and a lot of ‘hurry up and wait’ leads that just don’t pan out. It’s frustrating.

He checks on each of the next of kin for Thunder Dome, Matrix, and Takeshita, because he needs to know they’re at least taken care of. Everyone was notified, he confirms. Thunder Dome has a husband. Matrix has a mother. Takeshita has a sister. They all seem to have someone who can look after them, some kind of life insurance or a fund. He goes to see Thunder Dome’s husband when the hour is decent, around eight thirty, because… he feels like he has to, maybe. Because Tenko is the one who killed him, and it feels almost like it’s his fault for not knowing what Tenko would become and being able to stop him. 

Thunder Dome, Raijin Arashi, was a boisterous man with a booming voice. His husband, Daichi Arashi, is… not that. He’s small, slight, and has a soft, quiet voice that’s easy to listen to. 

“Come on in. You said your name was Comet?” Arashi asks as he leads him inside and sits down across from him, leaving Touya to sit down on a tasteful beige couch. 

“You can call me Touya,” he says. “No need for hero names.” He hesitates. “I… I’m not sure if this is appropriate for a gift. Forgive me, if not. It feels like something he would enjoy being offered,” he murmurs, holding out his hand. In his palm is a small glass marble with a lightning bolt suspended in the middle, something he saw along the way. He had planned on getting flowers, but this felt… more apt.

Arashi takes it, staring at it quietly for a long moment. “Thank you, Touya. I… Raijin would have enjoyed it,” he says. “He… often got me small things like this, on his way home,” he admits. 

Touya nods, looking away. “Condolences are less than helpful, and I imagine you’ve heard too many of them already,” he says quietly. “All the same, I want to express that the world is a worse place without him.” 

“Were you two close?” Arashi asks, tilting his head. “I feel like he mentioned a Comet once or twice, but… not a Touya.” 

“Not very,” he admits. “I worked around him frequently. I’m not very noticeable. He always was, though, so I don’t know how much he noticed me.” 

He nods in understanding. “I think he paid more attention to the quiet ones, frankly,” Arashi says with a wry, wan little smile. “Probably because of me. I think I made him think we’re all interesting.” 

“Ah. The mistake,” Touya says, nodding. 

Arashi laughs once. “The mistake,” he agrees. “It feels like someone louder and bolder always decides we’re worth looking at, doesn’t it?” 

Touya thinks of Hawks, and he hums. “I suppose it does,” he agrees. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

He’s not sure if he feels more or less level when he leaves Arashi’s, an hour later. Maybe he just feels more tired. Arashi seems more peaceful, though, so Touya takes solace in that. He pulls out his phone, glancing at his texts. 

Hawks - 9:02
got a few things to go over in crush’s file when you’re free

Hawks - 9:23
comet? you alive?

Hawks - 9:42
not to be that clingy bird that double-triple texts, but
you know. you usually answer by now. 

☄Comet ☄ - 10:06
Sorry. I was at Thunder Dome’s house offering condolences.
I’m on the way now, be there in ten.

Hawks - 10:06
… oh.
yeah ok. take your time.

Touya shakes his head, clicking his phone shut, and sets off at a quick walk. He rounds the corner off of Arashi’s street onto the main road, running straight into a small group of reporters. They’ve been roaming, trying to catch heroes on patrol for comments, but he was lucky enough to avoid them this morning on his way into the office, and on his way over to Arashi’s. 

He’s not so lucky this time. 

“Comet! Comet! I understand you were on site with Thunder Dome during the fateful encounter, and that you have a prior history with the villain who took his life. What comment do you have for the public about this group?” one of the reporters demands. She has some kind of mic, holding it toward him, while her compatriot has a hand-held camera. There are twelve of them in all, quickly moving to surround him so he can’t easily slip away. 

Touya blanches. They’re not supposed to know about his link to Tenko, though he guesses it’s not–exactly hidden. His pictures next to Tenko are public, in the Shiketsu yearbook, as is his involvement in his expulsion, which is public record. 

Once Tenko’s name was published, this was inevitable. He’s not entirely sure how this affects his standings, but he thinks it probably can’t be good. He doesn’t strictly care, but he’s mildly impressed that it would throw him into the public eye, give him better standings, then immediately squash his chance at breaking into the top twenty all in the same month. 

Like a comet indeed. 

He hopes it doesn’t mess with Hawks’ rankings–it’s not his fault. 

“I don’t have a comment at this time. Gunhead will be releasing a proper press conference later today,” he says, trying to shuffle through them. 

“Comet, what do you have to say about the rumors that Tenko was an ex of yours?” someone demands. 

He keeps his expression blank, even as his heart thunders in his ears. They really shouldn’t know about that. They weren’t–very open in high school. They didn’t tell anyone. There weren’t very many people who knew. It wasn’t exactly safe, with Endeavor as his father. Endeavor knew, he thought, that Touya was gay, but it was something they had never openly acknowledged, something that sat between them as something to be known but Not Spoken About or Discussed, a shameful secret to be kept. He doesn’t care so much if people know now, but the fear and discomfort lingers, the idea that it should be Known But Not Spoken Of is hard to shake, even now. He shifts through two more reporters. “Excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be,” he murmurs. “Please move.” 

“Touya!” a voice thunders, and he flinches, hard. 

Endeavor. 

Christ, he’s entirely too tired for this.

Touya pushes through the last two reporters and takes off at a fast-paced walk toward Hawks’ agency, pulling out his phone with hands that he refuses to acknowledge are trembling. 

☄Comet ☄ - 10:13
Otoh Gunga rd

Hawks - 10:13
ETA 1 min 

Touya takes a moment to be glad he doesn’t ask unnecessary questions. 

“Touya, get back here!” Endeavor snaps. He hears the heavy tread of his steps, and he’s back in that house, hearing heavy boots on tatami mats, smelling the burning of childhood toys that distracted him from training, of his own traitorously weak skin, of–

A hand closes around his upper arm, and it’s all he can do to keep his face as flat as he can, looking up at his father Endeavor. 

“What.” 

“I’ve been trying to contact you,” he grumbles, irritable. “We need to talk about this whole–thing.” He looks around at the press, who are watching the scene, taking pictures furiously of the number two hero and his son. “Come on–let’s find somewhere more private.” 

“No,” he replies flatly. “I’ve got somewhere to be.” 

“Touya, don’t be a child,” he hisses. “You’re making a scene.” 

“You’re the one making a scene, Endeavor. I’m trying to go do my job,” he returns coolly. His hands are shaking so hard, and he can’t make it stop, fuck. He clenches them into fists, trying to hide it, but he knows Endeavor can see it, can sense his fear, his weakness.

“Stop this nonsense. You need me to sign Shouto’s forms for UA, anyway. Come on. We need to talk,” he tries, switching tactics. 

Touya tenses. He does–but not yet. He was going to approach him about it next week, when he was ready, when he was prepared, at Endeavor’s agency where he couldn’t cause a scene, make him sign the forms, and then leave just as quickly. This… is not that. He’s not in control here.  

Endeavor knows that. 

He hears a fluttering of wings, and then Hawks drops down next to him, his wings thwapping against Endeavor’s hand harshly enough that he pulls back. 

“Whoops! Sorry about that, Endeavor! Misjudged the landing,” he says with an easy laugh. 

Touya looks over at him, and his eyes are flat, cold, his pupils slits. He misjudged absolutely nothing, and it’s clear that Endeavor knows it, too, from the way his eyes narrow. 

“Hawks,” he says coolly. “Why are you here?” 

“Working on a case with Comet here. He was supposed to be at my office five minutes ago, but he hadn’t shown up yet, so I came to get him. We’re very busy,” he says, still holding onto that easy grin. 

“Told you I had somewhere to be,” Touya says, aiming for casual and churlish and landing on flat and slightly shaky, not looking back to Endeavor, keeping his eyes on Hawks. 

Endeavor glances between them, eyes narrowed. “... Right. I’ll come help, then. You’re working on the Trigger case, right?” 

Touya tenses further. 

“No, thanks! I’ve got All Might at the office already–can’t have too many top tens in one place, you know? It’s a hazard, man.” He laughs. “I think having the number one is already a bit too much of a hazard, honestly.” The slight stress he puts on it, the way he slyly tilts his head and slides his smile into a smirk–oh, Touya can tell how it infuriates Endeavor. 

Endeavor’s glare snaps to Touya, and he holds himself still, refusing to flinch or cringe even as the phantom pain flares up his spine. “Meet me Thursday morning at my agency, Touya, then. I’ll sign the forms for Shouto’s school,” he says, glaring. 

Touya nods, once. Endeavor huffs, turning, and kicks into the air, flames bursting to life in a flare of heat that does make Touya flinch bodily into Hawks’ side. He pulls away almost immediately, walking toward the agency at a quick pace, trying to get away from the scene, away from Endeavor, away from the reporters, maybe even away from Hawks, who must think he’s the most pathetic thing in the world now. 

Hawks is right behind him, boots tapping on the asphalt. He hears a fluttering of wings as Hawks flits up to his side. “... Did he seriously just corner you in front of a bunch of reporters?” he asks, his voice low and angry. 

Touya glances at him, brows raised in surprise. Hawks sounds–furious. Not at Touya, but at Endeavor. 

“... Yeah. He does that,” he says quietly. “Sorry for the text.” He forces a lackadaisical smirk on his face. “Didn’t want to be late for our meeting, and he has a tendency to drag these little impromptu meetings out.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, frowning. 

“Do what?” he shoots back flatly.  

“Pretend.”

“... Don’t. Not right now, please,” Touya mumbles, running a hand over his face. He’s so tired. He sighs. “... Thanks, Birdie.” 

Hawks looks him over, eyes focused, like he’s cataloging him for any injuries or distress. “You called,” he says. 

Touya stares at him for a long moment. Like it’s that simple. Like all Touya has to do is ask, and Hawks will drop anything and everything for him. 

… Touya thinks he just might. 

“... Did you go home last night?” he asks, brow furrowed. 

Touya looks away. “Yes,” he lies. 

Hawks hums. “Alright. Come on. We’ll go look over some files in my office,” he says, voice slow and careful.

Touya nods, following him. He doesn’t bother talking the rest of the way, and it’s–a bit of a relief. His adrenaline is crashing after seeing Endeavor, and his hands are shaking again, harder than before. He feels–a little sick, actually. Is he going to be sick? Shit. 

He follows Hawks into the building in a daze, and then over to the elevator. Hawks herds him into the elevator, his wings opening slightly to block the door, like he’s keeping anyone from coming in with them. He clicks the button for his floor, his eyes focused on Touya.

“... What?” he asks, squinting at him. 

“Nothing,” Hawks replies easily, smiling. “Just looking.” 

“Looking at what?” he asks, irritated. 

“You,” Hawks replies easily. 

Touya stares at him blankly. “... Why.” 

Hawks tilts his head. The elevator dings, and he turns, stepping out. “Come on,” he says, gesturing him out. Touya follows, heading to his office, entertaining vague ideas of getting some of the coffee out of his fridge so he can focus while they go over the rest of the files. 

He steps in, and Hawks leans past him, shutting the door behind him. 

“Go lay down on the couch,” Hawks murmurs. 

Touya freezes, bracketed against the door. “... We’re going over files,” he says tersely. 

“You’re going to lay down, actually,” he says evenly. “For at least an hour. Then we’ll go over them.” 

“... Hawks.” 

“Comet,” Hawks replies, mirroring his irritated tone. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Then humor me.” 

“I’ll just go home,” he threatens. 

“I’ll text Fuyumi,” Hawks counters.

“You wouldn’t.”

“And Natsuo.” 

Touya stares at him, eyes narrowed, for a long moment. He’s been told, many, many times over that his gaze is intimidating, but he doesn’t think anyone would win a stare down with Hawks, especially after two days with minimal sleep and maximum stress. 

He looks away. “Fine,” he mutters. “Just an hour.” 

Hawks brightens. “Great,” he chirps. He clicks off the light, locking the door, then goes and sits at his desk, pulling out a few files. Touya tosses himself on the couch, undoing his bracers and setting them beside the couch. He throws his arm over his eyes, sighing quietly. 

Despite what he said, he doesn’t mean to fall asleep. He just means to close his eyes, to lay down for an hour and appease Hawks, then get to work as soon as an hour passes. A few minutes after he settles in, though, Hawks starts humming under his breath, a soft, pretty tune. It makes all of the muscles in his body relax into the couch, and before he knows it, he’s drifting. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hawks isn’t really paying attention to his files. He has them laid out, and he has an arrest report for one Suki Hoshizora, Quirk: Portal, briefly arrested and processed alongside Sayuri Nakagawa, Quirk: Command Crush at a Quirk discrimination protest-turned-riot three years prior. He knows their names, now, at least, and who they are. 

He has a general idea of their motivations, but frustratingly little idea of where they are now. They have almost no associations outside of each other, no family to speak of, and nothing registered in their names. 

It would be something to puzzle over, and something Hawks would ordinarily spend a lot more time focused on, if it weren’t for Touya, asleep on his couch. He looks so tired. When he saw him with Endeavor, hands shaking, lips pulled tight, pupils dilated, shoulders taut, like a cornered animal, he hated it. He’s never hated anything more than seeing Touya like that, his frantic glances between Endeavor, the reporters, trying to find any way to get out.

Keigo, on the other hand, was overjoyed that Touya felt like he could reach out. That he could text him for help. Not that he needed the help, but that he sent his location and just knew that he would be there. He hadn’t even seemed surprised when Keigo dropped down next to him, just relieved, pleased.  

He stands up cautiously, stepping over beside the couch. Touya’s been asleep for thirty minutes or so, his breath soft and even, his arm settled down beside him. Keigo leans over to look at his face. It’s more relaxed, but still pinched slightly, stressed. There are dark circles under his eyes, a small frown on his face. He sighs. He tugs off his gloves, carefully reaching down to run a hand through his hair, touch feather-soft to avoid waking him. Touya tips his head into the touch, his expression smoothing out, and murmurs a soft, “Keigo…” 

Keigo stares at him, lips parted, eyes wide. He was still asleep. 

That wasn’t. 

That wasn’t fair. 

Touya wasn’t fair, not at all. He was so soft, unguarded, turning and baring his throat at the most unexpected of moments, and then suddenly throwing up all of his walls when Keigo least expected it. He kneels down to look over the pale planes of his face, memorizing the sharp lines of his jaw, the smooth slope of his nose, the expanse of his forehead, the soft tresses of his silvery-white hair. 

“... What am I supposed to do with you?” he murmurs. “How am I supposed to…” He shakes his head, standing up, and puts his gloves back on. He returns back to his desk, flipping through the papers carefully.

Best to get back to work. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya wakes up four hours later, sitting up abruptly. Hawks glances up at him. 

“Mornin’,” he says easily. 

“Timeizzit?” Touya asks, squinting at him, dazed. 

Cute. Cutecutecutecute–

“One thirty,” he says, glancing at the clock. 

“One…” Touya repeats, staring at him blankly. “The hell didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, standing up. He scrambles a few steps toward the door, then back toward the couch to grab his bracers, then sits down again, holding one of his bracers in confusion, trying to figure out which one it is. “Ugh.” He runs a hand over his face. 

“Because you clearly needed the sleep,” he says, amused. “You can sleep some more, if you’d like.” 

“No, no. I’m done,” Touya says, irritated. He slips on his bracers, clicking them back into place, then walks over to his fridge, grabbing one of his canned coffees. He sits down across from him, clicking the tab and taking a long sip. “What’ve you got?” 

“Names for Chell and Crush, but names are about all I’ve got,” he answers, tossing over the files. “Nothing current, or in the last five years or so.” 

Touya leans forward, interested, and flips through the folders, scanning over each one. “... Hmmm… Looks like they lived around the same neighborhood as kids,” he murmurs. 

“What?” he asks, leaning forward. 

“These two neighborhoods are about five minutes from each other,” Touya points out, tapping the last of the known addresses. “The years would put them at… hmmm…” He squints. “Four and six, living there until they were about… sixteen and eighteen.” 

“Then they drop off the map, reported as runaways…” Hawks taps his pen thoughtfully. “Then they show up again during the protest, get processed, and drop back off the map again.” 

“Vigilantes-turned-villains?” Touya muses, head tilted. “Wouldn’t be the first to hit an ends-justify-the-means mentality. And Crush’s Quirk is all mental–those don’t have the best rap. If she faced discrimination, and they were childhood friends turned lovers, and they hit a protest gone wrong, that could easily be a catalyst,” he says, drumming his fingers. “Mix that in with Tenko, who’s already on that train, add a dash of organized crime…” 

“Organized crime with funding from a drug trade that can make Quirks more powerful,” Hawks says slowly.

“Drugs that can make Quirks more powerful and dangerous,” he says slowly, brow furrowing. “Tenko is obsessed with the idea of dangerous Quirks. I wonder if these two are, too. And what the Shie Hassaikai wants with Trigger.” He drums his fingers. “There are too many unknowns. Too many players, and too many variables. I don’t like this.” 

“I don’t think I do, either,” he mutters, eyes narrowed. “Even if we figure out why one group wants it, who’s to say the other group doesn’t want it for an entirely opposing reason? They could be playing each other. Or the two that were in with Crush’s group could be betraying the Shie Hassaikai, if there’s new leadership, or if there’s been a shift in their organization. We just don’t know enough about Overhaul, or Crush.”

Touya sighs, putting his head in his hands. “Frankly, we don’t know enough about Tenko, either. Not this Tenko. I thought I knew him, but he was right. I don’t know who he is now. Maybe I really didn’t know him even then.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think he…” He swallows, looking away. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s in the past.” 

“Tell me,” Keigo says, leaning forward. He wants to know. Anything that makes his face scrunch like that–he wants to know, wants to help, wants to soothe the ache. 

Touya glances over at him, and he sighs. “I guess you can’t think I’m any more pathetic,” he mumbles. “I don’t–really think Tenko ever actually…” He twists his fingers together in thought. He hums. “It may affect how we approach him, so you should probably know. I don’t think Tenko actually–loved me. In return, I mean,” he says carefully, his eyes focused on the corner of the room. “I’m not quite sure he liked me, actually. The more I’ve thought about it–the more I’ve… considered. I… think he might have been more truthful when we met on the street than I hoped.” 

Keigo stares at him, rage burning through his chest, because Touya’s eyes are slightly tight around the corners, his lips turned down slightly, his shoulders hunched in. He’s in pain. Because of this. Because Tenko was lucky enough to be handed Touya’s love, and he didn’t have the wherewithal to know what a gift he’d been given. Keigo wants to go rip his lungs out, on principle alone. 

“... I don’t think you’re pathetic,” he says. He leans forward, setting his hand on the desk, because he needs Touya to understand this. “I will never think you’re pathetic for others taking advantage of your kindness.” 

Touya’s eyes widen slightly, staring at him, lips slightly parted like he… can’t decide what to say. 

Keigo looks away, frowning slightly. “... I also…” His lips twitch with dissatisfaction as he turns the interaction over in his head. “I don’t think he’s as unaffected as you think.” 

Touya shakes his head quickly. “He’s never threatened me like that before. It’s–he’s–there was nothing there. He didn’t care. Chell said he was angry, and that makes sense because I burned their leader.” 

“I don’t think that’s it,” he says slowly. “When you asked if you had ever been afraid of him, he was…” Keigo frowns in thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. “He was uncomfortable. Almost panicky. That’s what set him off. He specifically said ‘You’re not in control here’ at one point. People who know they’re in control don’t have to specify who is and who isn’t,” he says thoughtfully.

Touya pauses, tipping his head in thought, like he’s reexamining the interaction. “I asked who Crush was, then he said I wasn’t in control and should stop acting like it,” he recalls, murmuring to himself. 

Keigo’s fingers curl into a fist. “He threatened to kill you,” he says tightly. 

Touya shook his head. “The words weren’t the threat–he’s said those a million times,” he mumbles distractedly. 

His nails bite into his palms, even through the gloves. “He’s threatened to turn your face into dust a million times before?” he asks quietly. “To destroy your throat so you can’t talk?” 

Touya nods, eyes distant. “Usually not while holding my face like that, though. That was new.” 

Keigo stands up, taking a few pacing steps around the office, trying to rein in the rage boiling in his chest. It’s not helpful right now. Touya’s eyes snap to him, focusing. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, brow furrowing. 

Keigo’s gaze snaps to him, incredulous. “I’m angry,” he bites out.

He leans back. “Why are you angry?” he asks slowly. “Because of Tenko?” 

“Does that surprise you?” he asks. “That I would be angry for you?” 

Touya pulls his leg up, wrapping an arm around it, like he’s trying to curl into himself. “... Yes,” he answers. “But I guess it–shouldn’t, should it?” 

“No. It really shouldn’t,” Keigo replies quietly. 

Touya looks down at his knees, thinking. “... You’re really too good for me,” he murmurs quietly. 

“It’s more that you just don’t have a clear picture of yourself,” he shoots back immediately. “Can’t I make my own decision about who I’m too good for? Or are you going to pick for me?” 

Touya looks away, frowning, then picks up Chell’s file, flipping back through it. “... This mentions that her radius on her Quirk is decently far,” he murmurs. 

Great. They’re just not going to talk about it. 

Hawks huffs, walking over to his side to lean over and look. “Thirty kilometers… At least it gives us a decent radius to work with for a potential canvassing area, assuming she hasn’t extended her radius since this was registered. There was some kind of bar they dropped into. We can canvas for bars within thirty kilometers of the area, see if we can figure out which one might have connections to any of the known members.”  

Touya tips his head to the side, thoughtful. “I wonder if Hana has heard from him,” he mumbles thoughtfully. 

Hawks blinks. “Would she have? I didn’t get the impression they were close.” 

“No, they were,” he says. “Especially after his Quirk manifested, actually. And in high school. She didn’t blame him for it.” He taps his fingers thoughtfully. “She liked me. I wonder if it would be worth talking to her.” 

“Would that–upset you?” Hawks asks, squinting at him. “I’d rather send an officer for an interview if it’s going to–” 

“I’m a hero, you know,” Touya says, rolling his eyes. “I can talk to her. I’ll go to her shop… Let’s see…” He leans over, turning Hawks’ monitor to pull up the internet and type in the name of her shop. ‘Shimura’s Service Shop’ was listed as being open Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday during the day. He hums. “Thursday it is, then.”  

“... Alright. I’ll come with you, then,” he says, looking back to the files. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Indulge me.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Fine.” 

· · ────── .･:･:･: ݁₊ ⊹‏𓂋. ݁ılıılıılıılıılıılı˖.‏𓂋⊹･:･:･:･: ݁. ────── · ·

Tenko glares. “No. We need a damn healer. We’re support and DPS heavy,” he grumbles for the seven thousandth time. “If we wanted a tank, we can get that big guy from Overhaul. We have the game pieces for that,” he grumbles.

Crush narrows her eyes at him. She’s not pretty. He guesses she was, before Touya got his hands on her and burned her face along her jaw, but now she’s not. Ha. 

He doesn’t really know why he thinks that’s funny. Touya isn’t his game piece anymore, not technically. Yet. Maybe. He thinks he can probably get Touya back on his board, but that bird is a problem. The way they looked at each other and that stupid magazine spread is a problem. If Touya gets a new romance going, he won’t have the only leverage he’s got over him, and that’s… annoying. 

That’s the only reason it bothers him. Really. 

It is. 

Tenko doesn’t like losing shit that’s supposed to be his, and Touya was always supposed to be his, even when he stopped bothering with Touya. That’s all there is to it. 

“Healers are hard to come by,” she grits out. “And when we do find them, they’re on the heroes’ side. If you can find a sympathetic with a healing Quirk, by all means, Shimura. Bring them on,” she says for the seven thousandth time.

“So why don’t we just kidnap one?” he asks, leaning against his fist. “Have Chell portal one out, drop them in a cage until they agree to heal us. What, do you want to look like a melted action figure forever?” 

“Punch yourself in the face,” she snaps.

Tenko punches himself in the face, then snaps a glare to her. He’s launching across the table almost immediately. 

“Oi!” Chell snaps, a portal appearing in front of him. He appears behind the bar, smacking into a shelf. 

Toga cackles, watching the chaos unfold. “I can go try to recruit people,” she offers cheerily, spinning a switchblade. 

“You’d be more likely to kill them,” Crush mutters, glaring at the ground. “I’ll send Chell.” 

Chell frowns, crossing her arms. “I don’t think I should leave. You’re still… injured,” she murmurs. 

“Yeah, and if you find a healer, things’ll be better,” Crush replies evenly. 

Twice bounds in through the door, grinning. “I got a new member!” he says, waving. “They’re terrible!” 

Tenko blinks, turning to look at him. “What?” 

“He’s nice! He sucks! He’s a doctor. Total quack!” he says. 

Tenko grins, turning to Crush. “Healer,” he says, holding out his hand. “And what did you do today?” 

“You act like you brought him yourself,” she snaps. “All you’ve done today is smack into a shelf, Shimura. Don’t act superior.” 

“Twice is my man. His achievements are my achievements,” Tenko dismisses. “Chell is your woman. Her achievements are yours. Same thing.” 

Twice looks at him. “Yep! No way, bossman!!” 

“Bring him in, Twice. We’ll test him out on Crush here, see what he can do,” Tenko says, smirking.

“No, we won’t. We’ll test him on Twice. You know the rules. You vouch, you test their Quirk,” Crush says icily. 

“Whatever.” 

Twice leans back outside, dragging in a boy who can't be older than nineteen. He's short, his face heart-shaped and gentle, his pink hair braided away from his face. His eyes are red, his pupils in the shape of black crosses, freckles dotted across his face, and he wears a simple set of black scrubs. He rocks back on his heels. 

“Sup,” he says, waving. 

“... You brought a kid,” Chell says slowly, staring. 

The boy laughs. “I’m a hundred and seventy-two,” he replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Tell the truth,” Crush says firmly, her voice layered with power. “How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure of the exact number,” he replies evenly. “But a hundred and seventy-two is my best guess. It's easy to lose track after the first century, especially when the metapowers war started,” He pauses. “... Ooh, hated that. Don’t like compulsion Quirks at all.” 

“What’s your Quirk?” Crush presses. 

“It’s called Mend. Originally, I thought I could simply heal the human body. Over time, I learned I can adjust the human body. So I can heal or injure as I see fit,” he says with a shrug. “Including my own. Which means if I don’t want to die, I don’t have to.” 

“Twice,” Crush says. 

Twice removes the wrist measure on his costume, then rolls up his sleeve. He holds out his hand to Toga, who immediately stabs him through the arm. “SHIT! I thought you were going to hand me the knife! What the hell?! Thanks! Fuck off!” 

The boy blinks. “Sure, okay. I guess I can heal that,” he says, snorting. “Don’t ask any follow up questions before stabbing each other.” He leans forward, taking Twice’s arm by the wrist. A pink glow burns through Twice’s wound, knitting the wound shut. It’s like nothing happened at all, the skin pale and unblemished, when he lets go. 

Crush tilts her head. “Answer me truthfully. Why do you want to join us?” 

“Truthfully, I’m bored,” he answers, leaning against the bar. “After a number of years, you do everything you want to do. I’ve healed every injury you can think of, and I’ve been just about everywhere you can think of.” He shrugs. “I saw the news. Three heroes dead in one day, no chance of a response, Hawks caught by surprise? You guys know what you’re doing, and I’m curious. I wanna know what’s going on.” He steps over to Crush, holding up a hand toward her face, hand paused an inch from her chin, offering. “Besides. If you’re going to be fighting someone with fire, you could use someone who can fix things like that, don’t you think?” He grins. 

Crush turns her chin into his hand, keeping her eyes on him, a small smirk turning up the corners of her lips. “... I do,” she replies. 

Tenko is the only one who sees Chell’s face turn, lips taut with rage.

Chapter Text

Hawks isn’t sure how Shouto gets his number, honestly. He gave his number to Natsuo and Fuyumi. He assumes Shouto obtains it from one of them. Either way, he gets a text from an unknown number Wednesday. 

Unknown Number - 10:20
Hawks. It’s Shouto Todoroki, Touya’s brother.

Hawks - 10:20
yo babyroki! what’s up? 
how’d you even get my number?

Babyroki - 10:21
Not important. 

Hawks - 10:22
… that’s familiar. why are you todorokis always so cryptic? 

Babyroki - 10:24
Also not important.
January 18th is next Friday. It’s Touya’s birthday.
I recognize that it’ll probably be hard to get time off, given the villain attacks, but you’ll be at our house at 5:30pm. Bringing a gift, I’m told, is good form. 

Hawks - 10:24
is this an invitation or a kidnapping 
feelin kinda like the latter 

Babyroki - 10:25
The former, but it can be the latter if it needs to be. Touya doesn’t like wine, so if you bring alcohol, Natsuo said go for whiskey or scotch. 
Also, Fuyumi said it’s a secret.

Hawks - 10:26
did they make you ask me because im less likely to say no to a babyroki than i am to a midroki or an adultroki?
is that what’s happening? am i getting played like a fiddle right now????

Babyroki - 10:27
Fiddles require skill, Hawks. 5:30. Friday. Present, whiskey, or scotch.

… Touche. He puts it in the calendar. 

He… might already have a present set aside. He’d known that Touya’s birthday was coming up, and he'd been prepared for it. 

It was… Well, it was probably presumptuous as hell, and probably not going to be well-received at all, but it was going to be kind of funny, and it was probably self-serving in some ways, and it was functional. 

His phone chimes again. 

☄Comet ☄ - 10:30
My brother’s birthday is this Friday.
I need a favor. 

… Oh, Jesus. Todorokis everywhere. 

Hawks - 10:30
at your service favoriteroki, what can i do you for 

☄Comet ☄ - 10:31
… Favoriteroki? 

Hawks - 10:31
babyroki, midroki, adultroki, favoriteroki. all the todorokis. 

☄Comet ☄ - 10:33
I have parents, you know. 

Hawks - 10:34
endeavor doesn’t get to be a todoroki because you don’t like him, and i’ve never met your mother, so i can’t nickname her

☄Comet ☄ - 10:40
… I… don’t know how to respond to that.
Anyway.
I need you to pick up a cake.

Hawks - 10:40
sure. ‘yumi or natsuo can’t?
not that i won’t or anything! just curious why the task is falling to me 

☄Comet ☄is calling . . . 

Hawks grins. He was kind of hoping that would happen. He clicks accept immediately. He’s patrolling, so no one will hear him. “Yes, Comet?” he asks. 

“Too much to text. I should have just called to begin with,” he grumbles. 

Hawks laughs brightly, looking out over the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of Touya. He should also be on patrol–he was surprised to get a text, frankly. Normally he’s a stickler for texting while at work. “So. Cake?” 

“Shou wants to have a… party. Friday. With his friends,” he says slowly. “So he’s inviting Midoriya and Bakugo over, and he said he wanted me to invite you over, too.” 

“What?” he asks blankly. 

“I dunno. He’s a weird kid. He said we should invite ‘all of the important people,’ so Fuyumi should invite Tensei, and I should invite you. I argued those shouldn’t–be right next to each other, and he just stared at me. Tensei is bringing his younger brother who’s Shouto’s age, though, so he might make another friend,” he says, sounding stressed. “I have a late-ish patrol, so I’m not getting off in time to get it, Natsuo’s got to pick up Bakugo on his way home from class, and Fuyumi has a tutoring session. So. Cake,” he finishes, heaving a breath. “Can you? Also–uh, do you want to… uh… go to my brother’s birthday party?” he asks hesitantly. 

Hawks snickers. “That was–a way to ask,” he says. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go, and pick up the cake.” 

“Great. I’m–oh, shit–gotta go,” he says quickly. He hears the phone snap shut but not properly hang up, muffled. He thinks he’s probably in a pocket. He clicks on his comms. 

“ ... route seven toward route six, in pursuit,” Touya raps out quickly. “Think he’s got Trigger, be aware, he’s got some glowing purple lines on his skin that I don’t like the look of–SHIT!” There’s a sound of roaring fire.

“Comet! Report!” Hawks barks, flitting toward route six as fast as he can.

“ ... Ho, shit. Definitely has Trigger and some kind of strength Quirk.” 

“Havoc on site! I see him. God damn he’s a big ugly fucker. Alright, here we go, engaging now,” she yells. 

“ETA less than a minute. Comet, civilians? Does anyone need evac?” Hawks demands. 

“Vortex here, I’m working evac. I’m moving people behind a line right now, but I could use some help. Comet’s back in the fray with Havoc; I can’t use my Quirk with his fire going up,” she says. 

“Alright, be there in a sec,” he says. He can see some of the panic, a few citizens running from the chaos now that he’s closer. He can hear the yelling. He crests high over a building, and he sees a flash of blue alongside a burst of green–Havoc’s Quirk. She releases a burst of energy stored up when she gets hit, redirecting energy back to someone when they hit her. It’s a bad match up for a strength villain. He lands, sending out his feathers to scout the area, surveying the scene. It looks like the villain, an eight foot, muscley monster of a man burst out of a bank with money, panicked, and started breaking things. His veins are bright purple, glowing, and he’s screaming like he’s in pain, or enraged. Maybe both. Touya is trying to corral him away, using his flames to direct him back away from the crowds.

Hawks pulls everyone he can out of the way, whisking them back behind the barricades quickly, watching Havoc dance with the villain and Touya, jumping in each time he douses his flames, bursting in with a quick attack that knocks the villain flat for just a moment before dancing back out of the way. 

Each time, the villain just bursts back to his feet, charging at Touya relentlessly. Touya is dodging, dancing out of the way the best he can, flaring fire at him, directing him away from the crowds, away from the buildings, away from himself, until Havoc can build up another attack. 

The civilians are out of the way, so Hawks watches carefully. Watching Touya in action is something he’s always loved; Touya in his element, focused on a mission, but now he’s just–anxious. He wants to pull Touya out of the way immediately to dive into the fray himself. He doesn’t want Touya in the middle of this at all.

“Come on!” Touya blasts a huge burst of Blueflame, spurring the villain forward. “Let’s go! Come at me!” he taunts. 

The villain charges at him again, his hands swinging out to grab him, and Touya swings under them in a graceful maneuver, spinning around behind him to kick him toward Havoc. “Havoc!” he calls. 

“Got him!” she yells, slamming her fist into his chest with a huge release of green. She slams him back into the asphalt, and Hawks shoots forward with a number of feathers, pinning him to the ground to keep him down. He tries to get back up, flailing weakly, then falls back, the purple fading slowly from his veins as he falls still. 

Touya huffs, pushing his hair out of his face. “Well! That was fun,” he says, walking over. He leans over the villain, carefully looking him over for weapons. “Are you alright?” he asks, voice clear. “Can you hear me? You’re coming down from a really nasty drug, but you’re gonna be alright.” He pats him down as he talks, pulling out a few vials of bright purple liquid. He holds them out without looking, and Hawks darts forward to take them. “Can you tell me what you took?” 

The villain groans. “... Shit was whack,” he mutters. 

Touya nods. “Whack, indeed,” he agrees solemnly, and Hawks has to stifle a laugh. 

“I don’t even–I just have like… a basic Quirk, man,” he moans, clutching at his head. 

“We’ve got some medics coming–” 

“Here!” a young pink-haired medic calls, running over. “What’ve we got?” 

Touya starts rattling off information that Hawks can barely parse, about pupil dilation, Quirk activation, and precise blows that the villain has taken so that he can get efficient care. “We’ve got a few vials of what he took. Hawks, pass it over. We need it treated as evidence, but some can be examined for treatment purposes,” he says. Hawks passes one vial over to the medic, who takes it. 

“Thanks, Comet. Love when you’re on scene,” he says brusquely, but appreciatively. 

“You, too, Kusakabe. You keep up and don’t ask questions,” he says, almost jokingly, smirking at the medic in a way that makes Hawks bristle slightly and reevaluate. Maybe he’s not as young as Hawks thought. 

Kusakabe snorts, quickly turning to help load the villain onto a bed. “See you next time! Don’t be a stranger!” 

“Probably an ill omen to hope to see a medic more often,” Touya shoots back as he’s leaving. Kusakabe just laughs, and Touya glances at Hawks, flicking his eyes over him, like he’s appraising him for wounds.

“Look at that,” Hawks says. “We’re both on the same scene and neither of us even got injured.” 

Touya smiles slightly. “It’s a miracle,” he intones.

“Who was that medic?” he asks, quirking a brow. 

Touya shrugs. “He shows up at a lot of my scenes. He’s efficient.” 

Hawks narrows his eyes. Efficient, sure. Interested in Touya, probably. Hawks is quite sure he’s not the only one with an interest in competency. He wishes he could–stop noticing all of the people who are interested in Touya. The list is too long, and it’s not like he can do anything about it. Touya is just good, and with a face like his, he’s bound to attract admirers. 

“Efficient,” he mutters. “You remember everyone’s names,” he points out, smiling. 

“Everyone has nametags,” Touya counters. “Or badges. It’s easy for me.” 

“You make a point to look, though,” he replies. “I see you do it.” 

“There’s no point in not doing it,” he says, shrugging. “I run into a lot of the same people over and over again; they seem to like it when I remember their names. It makes up for the fact that I’m… not very expressive,” he says, his eyes sliding away self-consciously. 

Ah. That’s it. Not flirting, just… trying to make people think he’s not mean. “You’re expressive,” Hawks argues. “Just… not in the way people ordinarily expect.” Touya is expressive. He expresses himself clearly in his words, in his actions. His tone and his face don’t emote obviously, but he generally says what he means, and his actions support what he means more often than not. People not willing to look for it aren’t worth it, in Hawks’ opinion. 

Touya huffs, looking away. “... I…” 

Vortex walks over. “Great capture assist, Comet! Havoc is headed back for the interrogation team; she asked if you minded doing the first contact paperwork?” she asks, tilting her head. 

“Not at all, that’s fine,” he says. “I’ll do it when my patrol wraps up.” 

Havoc… generally leaves the first contact paperwork to whomever else is on the scene since it’s tedious, mildly frustrating, and generally ignored in most cases since it rarely has information that’s reference later in the case, but it’s necessary to keep cases from getting thrown out later, so this doesn’t surprise Hawks. She’s trying to work her way up the rankings, since she’s somewhere around no. 184 right now as a new hero with few connections, but the fact that she’s left it to him without confirming it leaves a bad taste in Hawks’ mouth. 

“Did she already–”

“Yeah,” Vortex says, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“She usually does,” Touya says, not sounding very put out. “I’m not too bothered. She does press better than I do.” 

Hawks clicks his tongue irritably. “You had first engagement, and seniority,” he points out. “You should have been on point for the encounter.”

Touya blinks. “I’m not going to throw my weight around since I’ve technically been a hero longer,” he says, incredulous. “If we get down to it, I’ve been at Gunhead’s for less time than she’s been at Manual’s. Besides, she’s just gotten off of her few days leave after–” He pauses, looking away. He shrugs. “I’m not going to push it, that's all.” 

Vortex tenses. “... Yeeeah,” she repeats, dragging the syllables out. 

Okay, Hawks is–clearly outnumbered on this one. He shrugs. “Next time, then. Take point,” he says firmly. “You have a bad habit of letting people relegate you to paperwork. Your paperwork is sublime, but you have other skills. Use them,” he says, eyes narrowed. 

“You know I don’t actually work at your agency, right?” Touya says lightly, his lips pulling up in a lazy smirk that means they’ve entered the ‘banter’ section of the conversation where Hawks can get away with things. He decides to push it.

“Yet,” Hawks replies, eyes narrowed. 

Vortex chokes, then turns, marching away with a squeaked, “Oh, look at that–a totally different thing to be doing! ‘Bye now!” 

Touya doesn’t spare her a glance, his eyes narrowing back, eyes challenging. “... Yet,” he allows, and Hawks feels like he’s flying. It’s not a full acceptance, but it’s a probably, and that’s Touya meeting him halfway–he will absolutely take that. 

He grins, and Touya rolls his eyes. “I’ve got more patrolling to do. Go on, Birdie,” he says. 

“I’ll go if you agree to have dinner with me tonight,” he says, feeling too buoyant to not push his luck. 

Touya puts his hands in his pockets, tilting his head back slightly, considering him. “... Where?” he asks. 

He feels his wings flutter. That’s not a no, basically a yes! “We could go back to the soba place. Or you could come over again,” he offers. 

Touya hums, thinking. He glances around, eyes narrowing at something. “... Your place,” he says finally. “We’ll order takeout. Fewer reporters.” 

Hawks grins. “It’s a date,” he says. 

Touya blinks. “I didn’t–” he starts. 

“Kidding!” he says immediately, sensing that he pushed too far. “See you tonight. What time?” 

Touya shifts. “... Seven. Meet me at Gunhead’s?” 

“Yep!” he agrees. He kicks off before Touya can change his mind, flitting off toward his patrol route. Technically he’s supposed to work until eight, but whatever. He owns the agency, he can shift things around. He’s got a date. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

“Morning, sleepy,” Keigo chirps, running a hand through his hair. 

Touya grumbles, rolling closer into his side, burying his face into his neck. He feels the warm weight of a wing settle over him like a feathery blanket. “... ‘Nother hour?” he asks hopefully, lips pressed against his neck. Keigo tilts his head, laughing. Touya can feel the vibration against his lips. 

“Not gonna sleep if you keep doing that,” Keigo says with a little hum. His hand, resting at his waist, grips at his hip in a light warning. 

Touya blinks himself awake the rest of the way. Keigo’s hair is messy, his eyes as soft as they ever are–predator’s eyes, but his predator. “... m’not opposed to that,” he mumbles, reaching over to drag him over. Keigo comes easily, settling himself on top of Touya, his knees settling easily on either side of his hips. 

Touya smiles at him, an easy expression to make, one he’s made to Keigo a million times before. “Love you,” he mumbles, leaning up to kiss him, one arm around his shoulders, sliding into his feathers the way Keigo likes. 

“Love you, too,” Keigo mumbles back, kissing him–

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

“Touya?” Shouto shakes his shoulder. Touya bolts up so fast his head slams into Shouto’s shoulder, Shouto jumping back in surprise. 

“Fuck,” he says, eyes wide.

“... Sorry. Your alarm is going off,” Shouto says carefully, pointing. “You were ignoring it.” 

“No.” Touya runs his hands over his face, groaning. He grabs his phone, turning it off. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he says. He points at his own forehead. “Is your head…?” 

“It’s fine. I’m good. Sorry.” 

“Sorry,” Shouto says again. “You…” He shifts awkwardly. “... Who’s Keigo?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Touya goes rigid. “... Forget you heard that name, please,” he says quietly. 

Shouto looks over his face for a moment. “Forgotten,” he replies. 

… Sometimes Touya loves his siblings. This is one of those times; he can tell by his face that Shouto means it. He won’t bring it up again–not unless Touya does; he won’t pry on this one. 

“Thank you.” He runs his hands over his face again, ignoring the smarting on his head. “... You sure your shoulder’s okay? I smacked you pretty hard,” he says again, squinting at him. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats. “... We have the day off school, though,” he says slowly. “Do you mind if Midoriya and Bakugo and I go to the mall and then come back here?”

Touya snorts. “That’s the real reason you woke me up, isn’t it?” he asks, smirking. “Yeah, that’s fine with me if it’s fine with their guardians. I’ve got patrol, so I won’t be back ‘til late, but ‘Yumi should be back around four and ‘Tsuo’s got an online test, so ask him if he’s going to be home or not.” He squints. “Sometimes he likes to go to the library for those. If they need a guardian present, he might be willing to stay and supervise if your Bakugo promises not to blow something up.” 

Shouto blinks. “He’s not my Bakugo,” he says blankly. 

“Sure, sure, whatever,” he says. 

He huffs, standing up. “Tell your Hawks I said hello when you go to work, then,” he mumbles on his way out. 

Touya throws a pillow at him, which Shouto neatly dodges. 

… He has a point, though. The dream makes this… a problem. Does he want Keigo to be his? Keigo’s already made it clear that he wants Touya, though they need to–talk about something, whatever that may be. He thought, maybe, he could just brush this off as sexual attraction. Their night together was good, he could admit that. Damn good, even. Maybe it was just that he was attentive, he’d decided. Maybe Keigo was just attractive because he was attentive, and that’s all it was; it didn’t have to be love. 

But that dream wasn’t even about sex, it was just about being next to each other. They’d said–Christ. 

He really was fucked, wasn’t he? 

But he hadn’t lied to Keigo–he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to do this. He got scared easily. He got angry easily. He lashed out. He withdrew. He had– issues. And Keigo deserved better, frankly; he really did. But… 

Touya really had no idea what to do. It’s with that mentality he goes to work, with that mentality he starts his patrol. Fuyumi calls him around ten to remind him about Shouto’s party on Friday, and he curses. He’s going to have to talk to Keigo at some point, to invite him to this party, to bring him even further into his personal life. It doesn’t feel fair to him to keep bringing him closer without giving him an answer. To make him wait while giving him hope that he’ll be a better person if that hope isn’t going to pan out. 

Maybe that’s why he folds. Maybe it’s because of the grin that Keigo gives him as he asks, leaning forward, feet a few centimeters off of the ground, wings flapping in that way they do when he’s so enthused he forgets not to fly, like his default state is in the air and being grounded is a trial. 

Whatever the reason, he agrees to the date-that’s-not-a-date. When his eyes flicker away from Keigo, he sees a flash of a camera and a press badge, curious eyes focused on them, and he wants to keep this smile to himself, so he suggests bringing it back to Keigo’s place. 

He’s–stupid, really. There’s no way this ends well. 

None at all. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Shouto Birthday Planning Committee 

‘Tsuo - 18:50
alright so hawks is for sure gonna get the cake friday right touya? 

Touya - 18:51
I said yes to this five times. Yes. He said yes, so he will. Do I need to try yes in a different language?
Sí.
Ja.
نعم
Da. 

‘Tsuo - 18:52
literally stop. 

Fuyumi - 18:53
… Do you actually know Arabic? I know you know the others but Arabic is a surprise. 

Touya - 18:54
I’m not remotely fluent. Vaguely passable. Endeavor didn’t care as much about that one, but I thought it was cool, so I learned a little bit beyond the basics. 

‘Tsuo - 18:54
… ANYWAY.
you’re getting decorations tomorrow, touya. day of, ‘yumi is getting her boyfriend and glasses boy. i’m getting blasty boy. green boy is getting dropped off. hawks is bringing cake and himself. you’re bringing yourself and gifts three and four, right, touya? 

Touya - 18:55
For the eighteenth time, YES.

‘Tsuo - 18:55
DON’T SASS ME. THIS IS SHOUTO, IT HAS TO BE PERFECT.

Touya - 18:56
I know that. And it will. He’s going to have a great time because we’re going to make it happen. Now calm down, and get your stuff together for your afternoon lecture.

“Comet!” Touya looks up from his phone. Hawks drops down in front of him, grinning widely. He always yells out before he actually lands, Touya notices. 

“Hawks,” he returns. He hitches his bag with his clothes up on his shoulder. “Hope you don’t mind if I change at your place,” he says. 

“Not at all.” His grin widens. “You left your eyeliner on again,” he says, reaching out to run his thumb across his cheekbone. 

Touya hums. “Easier to take off when I’m done changing,” he says. “C’mon,” he says. He glances back down at his phone as they’re walking toward Hawks’ apartment.

‘Tsuo - 18:58
whatever 

Motherhen Touya - 19:01
Don’t be a nuisance. Just do what you’re told.
… Stop changing my contact name in the group chat, too. Brat.

‘Tsuo - 19:01
get a phone that lets you change ours back and i’ll think about it, loser 

Motherhen Touya - 19:02
I’ll get a new phone when this one breaks, brat. No point in spending money when we don’t need to. 

‘Tsuo - 19:03
i’d argue this is a need. you’re in the STONE AGE tou

He rolls his eyes, shutting his phone and putting it away in a pocket. 

“Shouto or Natsuo?” Keigo asks. 

“How do you know it wasn’t Fuyumi? Or someone else?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“You don’t like texting, so it’s definitely a sibling if you’re bothering to do it, and that fondly annoyed look says they’re making fun of you. So, Natsuo or Shouto?” 

Touya huffs. “Natsuo,” he admits. “He’s worried about Shou’s party and driving me insane about it.” 

“What’s he worried about?” he asks. 

“The presents. The cake. The you. The me.” He gestures vaguely in front of him. “The everyone else. Potential meteors falling from the sky. Literally anything and everything that could potentially go wrong.” 

Hawks blinks. “Is… Is there really that much room for something to go wrong for a fifteenth birthday party?” 

Touya groans, dropping his head back. “No, of course not. But…” 

“Comet! Hawks!” A girl, eighteen or nineteen, runs up to them, clutching a magazine. “I’m so sorry to interrupt–could you–would you sign this for me?” she asks shyly. 

Touya blinks. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Where do you…?” he asks. He pats around his pockets, looking for something to sign with. 

“I have markers,” she says breathlessly, holding out a vibrant blue marker that’s roughly the color of his flames to him and a bright gold marker to Hawks. She flips open the magazine to the photo of Hawks standing over Touya, his hand in his hair. His face flushes.

“Ah. That one. Sure. Yep. Do you uh… Want it to… someone in particular?” he asks, uncapping the marker. 

She smiles. “Ren, please! You two are my biggest inspiration,” she gushes. “You never see openly queer heroes, you know, and I just–it gives me hope to see you guys be so open, you know?” she says shyly. 

Touya twitches. He should deny it. She thinks they’re–dating. That’s what she thinks. But he is queer, and coming out is something that will probably happen at some point if he breaks the top ten like Hawks thinks he will, and giving hope to people is not something he’s opposed to doing. 

“‘To… Ren, spread your wings and fly free, Hawks…’” Hawks mumbles, writing it out in the top right corner next to himself in the picture, signing next to himself. He grins. “Glad to be an inspiration, Ren!” He nudges Touya. 

Okay. 

Okay, fine, if Hawks isn’t going to make a big deal out of this, Touya doesn’t have to make a big deal out of this either. It’s fine. He leans down, uncapping his marker. Ren, Burn Bright - Comet, he scribbles on the lower left corner, next to himself. He heats his palm slightly, running his hand over each to dry the ink, then hands her back the markers and magazine. 

“Thank you!” she says, looking at it in awe. “Really. Thank you, so much!” She bows, then hurries away. 

“... Openly queer, huh,” Touya says, eyeing Hawks. 

Hawks blinks at him, then cackles. “... Are you implying you’re not?” he asks.

“Well, no,” he says. He gives him a flat stare. “You would know the answer to that is no,” he says, unimpressed. 

Hawks laughs again. “I could use a reminder,” he says easily, putting his hands behind his head. 

Touya eyes him, a flash of heat rushing through his chest. Is he–is that–is Hawks propositioning him? 

It was different, the last time, when they were both frazzled, fresh off grief, and it was clear that it was one night. This is–almost a date, with touches of romantic intent, and something… more. Maybe. Probably, even. 

“I can hear your brain overthinking,” Hawks says with a sigh. He opens the front door to his apartment building–when did they get there? “Relax. It can just be dinner,” he says firmly. 

Touya huffs, walking in. He waves vaguely at the front deskman who calls out a hello, stalking over to the elevator. He’s–irritated, he thinks. His skin feels… too tight. Too warm. He swats the up button. “Aren’t you–worried? About… press, or whatever? Everything is… unconfirmed right now, but if they think we’re actually…” 

Hawks raises a brow. “Actually…” he says, waiting, hand held out for the rest of the sentence. The elevator opens, and he steps inside. Touya follows him. 

“Actually dating. Together. Partners. Whatever,” he clarifies.

Hawks stares at him, eyes focused, sharp. Touya fumbles for the button to his floor, clicking it hastily because Hawks isn’t… moving for it. He’s just–staring, unblinking. “Together. Partners,” he repeats, almost to himself, voice quiet. “... Hm. I guess I would deal with that as it came up.” 

Touya leans back against the elevator wall, frowning at the doors to avoid keeping eye contact with him; his gaze is too intense, his pupils narrowed into that predator slit that makes him shiver in ways that are entirely too pleasant. “And how do you propose you’ll do that?” he asks. 

Hawks shrugs. “Honestly, who really cares? If I’m into men or women or neither or both? Does it really matter all that much?” 

The elevator doors slide open, and Hawks steps out. Touya follows him down the hall to his apartment. “... Is it really that simple?” he asks quietly. 

Hawks opens his door, gesturing Touya inside, then follows him in. “Yeah, I guess. Why wouldn’t it be?” 

Touya kicks off his boots, pushing them aside, then steps aside. He crosses his arms, looking away. “... Endeavor isn’t… exactly one to make it seem simple,” he says carefully. “My… tastes were always something that was… known and not to be talked about, I guess.” He glances up at the ceiling, rocking back on his heels. “I guess I just assumed it was another thing I was doing wrong somehow. That maybe everyone else thought the same.” 

Hawks steps forward, carefully pulling his gaze down by his chin. “... Touya,” he murmurs. “There is nothing wrong with you.” 

Touya inhales sharply, his hand automatically coming up to rest on his arm. “... I… I don’t know about that,” he says. 

“I do,” Keigo replies firmly. He thinks of the dream, of the soft look in his eyes, the gravelly tones of his voice as he–

“... We’re… getting food, right?” he asks, his voice cracking. “That’s what we’re here for.” 

Keigo smiles, his eyes softening slightly. “Yeah. What do you want to get?” 

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. He glances down at his hand, still on Keigo’s arm, realizes that Keigo’s hand is still resting on his jaw. He grips his arm a touch tighter, struck by the idea that he--doesn't want to let go. “... I need to change out of my suit,” he says slowly. 

“You should probably let go, then,” Keigo says. 

“Probably,” he answers. “... You should probably move your hand, too.” 

Keigo nods. “Probably.” 

Touya steps forward, closer to him. “Is this a bad idea?” he murmurs. Keigo slides his hand along his jaw, to the side of his face. Touya slides his hand up his arm to his shoulder. 

Keigo tilts his head. “... Probably,” he answers softly after a moment. “Do you actually care?” 

“If it hurts you, then yes,” Touya says carefully, frowning. 

Keigo blinks. “Why would being with you hurt me?” he asks. 

“You… like me. I think,” he says slowly. “And I don’t know how to be with you in the way that you want. There’s more to be said between us. Doesn’t it–isn’t it–is this… Doesn’t it hurt to be close in this way, when it’s not what you want?” he asks, frustrated. He puts his hand on Keigo’s hip. Keigo reaches up with his other hand, resting it on the other side of his face, running his thumb along his cheekbone. 

“I like you, yes,” Keigo answers easily. “And there’s a lot to be said between us. But no, Touya. It doesn’t hurt me to have you. Not when there might be a chance, one day, of being with you in the way I want. I know it’s not set in stone. I know you’re not mine. I know what this is, what you are, and who you are. But if you’re offering this, I’m never going to be strong enough to turn it down,” he says, shuffling forward, pulling himself flush against Touya’s chest. He smiles. “You’re too…” 

Touya sighs shakily, leaning forward to press his forehead to Keigo’s. “Too what?” he asks. 

“Too many words to list. Beautiful. Intense.” Keigo pulls him forward, just a few inches, their lips a breath apart. “Goddamn sexy,” he mumbles. “Unfairly, searingly hot in every meaning of the word.” 

Touya sighs. “What am I supposed to do with you?” he murmurs. 

Keigo laughs. “I wonder that about you pretty often. Why don’t you tell me what I’m allowed to do, and we’ll go from there?” he asks. 

“Why don’t I tell you what I’m going to do to you, and you tell me if it sounds like a good evening?” Touya returns, tightening his grip on Keigo’s hip. He pulls him closer, nudging his knee in between his legs. Keigo moves one arm to drape around his shoulders, his other hand up into his hair, tangling it in his strands. Touya kisses just beside his lips, a soft brush of skin. “... Words, Keigo. How does that sound?” 

“Good. Yeah. Good,” he breathes. 

“Mmm. Good. Then first…” He kisses his jaw. Then just under his jaw, the soft skin of his neck. He scrapes his teeth along the skin there, relishing in the punched-out gasp of breath. “I’m going to get you out of these clothes,” he murmurs, tugging lightly at his jacket. 

“And… and I’ll get to take you out of yours?” Keigo asks breathlessly. 

“Maybe,” Touya allows. “Maybe I just want to have you naked, laid out for me for a while,” he muses. He bites down on the side of his neck, running his tongue over the indents left by his teeth. Keigo’s moan is–beautiful. “Maybe I just want to see what sounds you’ll make. See if I can play you like an instrument,” he mumbles, feeling vaguely nonsensical. It almost doesn’t matter, feeling Keigo’s hand clutching at him desperately. “Wonder how many times I could bring you close to the edge,” he continues thoughtfully, the image of Keigo trembling, wanting, gasping, falling into his mind, “without actually letting you fall over it. Would you be good for me, Birdie?” 

“Jesus, Touya,” Keigo gasps. “Yeah. Yes. I would. Anything for you,” he says immediately. “Just–clothes. Off. Bedroom, please.” 

“... Say it again,” Touya murmurs. He drops his hand lower, gripping Keigo’s ass, pulling his hips down against the thigh in between his legs. Keigo grinds down with a breathy moan. 

“Say–Say which part? Which–I’ll say it, I will, just which–” he groans, his fingers gripping his hair tightly. 

“Please, Keigo. Say please,” he says, nipping his neck. “It sounds so pretty when you say it.” 

“Please, please, please, please take me to the bedroom, please, Touya, please,” he says immediately. 

Touya takes a harsh breath against his neck. “... Alright,” he murmurs. “Put your legs around my waist.” 

Keigo is quick to obey, fluttering his wings to get the leverage he needs to get both legs around Touya’s waist. He holds Keigo up by his ass, kissing his way up his neck as he walks him over toward the bedroom. Keigo reaches back blindly, twisting the door handle, so Touya walks them back into the bedroom. He turns, sitting down on the bed. He’d toss Keigo onto the bed, but the idea of dropping Keigo on his wings is–a bad one. Keigo in his lap, however, is not a bad idea. 

He tugs at his jacket. “... Wings,” he mumbles. Keigo grins, slipping back off of his lap. 

“How about I give you something fun?” he asks. 

Touya leans back on his palms, tilting his head curiously. “Oh?” 

Keigo slips his jacket off, somehow managing to make it look almost–sensual, despite having to tuck his wings back to move them through the cuts in the back. He tosses it aside, winking at him, reaching back over his shoulder to push the zipper of the back of his shirt down, then under his wing to pull it the rest of the way down. He slips the shirt off, tossing it into Touya’s lap, flaring his wings out around him, showing off. 

Touya runs his fingers along the fabric of the shirt in his lap. “... Something fun,” he murmurs, eyes trailing along the cut of his hips. “Take off your gloves,” he directs. 

“Oh? Are you directing this show?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. 

“Yes,” he replies, raising a brow. “I’m in charge.” 

Keigo swallows. “... So you are,” he agrees. He slips off his gloves, tossing them aside next. Toes out of his socks, kicking them off to the side. Touya likes seeing him like this, not hiding. His nails are weapons, and having them on display, running along his sides, near his neck, is… 

It probably says something about him, how much he likes that. 

“What next, Touya? Since you’re in charge?” he teases, smiling. He slips his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, tugging on them lightly, tilting his head. 

“Stay right there,” he says. He stands up, stepping over to Keigo, running his hand across his bare chest. He scrapes his nails across his sternum, the pads of his fingers across the bud of his nipple just to hear him gasp. He hums. He steps past him, unclipping the bracer at his wrist. “Eyes forward,” he says, not looking back. He hears a huff as Keigo looks away. 

“... You never said I couldn’t look,” he grumbles. 

“I just did, didn’t I?” he says, amused. He unclips the next bracer, setting both on the dresser with an audible click. Then the upper arm bracers, one by one. He pulls off jacket next, draping it across the dresser, and then undoes his belt last. He slips off his gloves, then reaches back, unzipping his suit, making sure it makes noise as it unzips. 

“... Touya,” Keigo pleads. 

“Yes?” he asks. 

“I want to see you,” he murmurs. “Please?” 

He feels a wing brush across his back, and he shivers. He slips off the suit, stepping out of it, then steps forward, running his fingers through the soft downy feathers at the base of his wings.

“Ah, Touya–” 

He slides his hands down his back, running them across the smooth skin, along the dip of his spine, around to his hips, along to his abdomen. He slips one hand down, undoing the button on his jeans, tugging the zipper down. He dips his head down, kissing the base of his neck. 

“I was–going to–” he starts, leaning back against him. 

“I know. I like this better.” Touya feels–more in control this way. He always feels like he’s losing control with Keigo, and anything he can do to regain it is… good. Probably. 

He thinks the whole night will probably end up as a net loss of control, anyway, but that’s Tomorrow Touya’s problem, and he’s Tonight Touya. Tonight Touya is going to get Keigo’s pants off. 

“You mentioned something about fucking me into a mattress last time,” Touya says idly, slipping a hand into his jeans, pushing them down. Keigo helps, kicking them off eagerly. 

“Yeah? Yeah. I’d love to do that. Is that on the table? Is that an option?” He reaches back, one hand sliding into the strands of his hair. 

“Might be,” Touya muses. “If you’re good.” 

“How–” He swallows. “How can I be good for you?” he asks. 

He runs his fingers lightly along the front of his boxers, along the rigid line of his cock. 

Keigo hisses through his teeth, dropping his head back. 

“You can sit pretty for me while I get myself ready for you, and keep your eyes on me,” he murmurs. “Do you think you can do that, pretty bird?” he asks, nosing along his neck, by his ear. 

“Yeah. Touya, please, I can, I can,” he says quickly. “Will you? Can I watch?” 

“Gonna keep your eyes on me the whole time? Tell me what you think?” he asks. 

“Want me to–talk?” he asks breathlessly. 

Does he? He thinks he does. “... Yeah.” He steps around him, and Keigo looks him over immediately, exhaling sharply. 

“You’re–fuck,” he breathes. “Gorgeous. God.” 

Touya smirks. He tugs at Keigo’s boxers. “Take these off for me, will you, Keigo?” he asks. He steps back, slipping off his own boxers and tossing them aside. He gets onto the bed, shuffling himself back, then grabs a few pillows to prop himself up, laying back. “... Even your pillows are nice,” he mumbles, turning to rub his cheek into the soft pillowcase. 

Keigo watches him intently. “Love seeing you in my bed,” he says. He kicks off his boxers, stepping forward to the edge of the bed. 

“Didn’t say you could get on the bed, Birdie,” Touya says, smirking at him. “Just said you could watch,” he says. He reaches over, pulling open the drawer and grabs around blindly for the bottle. He pulls out the bottle, looking back at Keigo. The predator stare is back, his eyes focused and wide, and–yeah. That’s definitely doing it for him. 

“Okay. I’ll watch, then,” he says, his voice rough. His eyes trail down his body, leaving fire in its wake.

Touya clicks the lid, dripping lube across his fingers, then spreads his legs open. Keigo tracks the motion, his eyes dropping down. 

“... First time you were here,” he says slowly. “You–You…” His eyes track along his length, eyes rapt with attention. 

“I?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“When you sucked me off,” he says finally, glancing back up at him. His face is flushed. “I want to return the favor.” 

Touya swallows. Yeah, okay, that's a better idea, actually--he likes that idea better. “... Alright,” he says. “Come on, then.” He adjusts, trying to find a good angle to work from. 

“Maybe if you–kneel again,” Keigo suggests. “Like you did before.” 

Touya gives him a little smirk. “Trying to be in charge, Birdie?” he asks. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathes. “You’re in charge, Touya. Just suggestions.” 

Touya nods, assured, and then pushes up onto his knees. He braces himself, spreading out slightly, reaching back to work himself open. “... Go on, then,” he murmurs. “Get to work, Keigo,” he offers, tipping his head downward. 

“Can I lay on the bed?” he asks, his hands twitching at his sides. 

“Yes, for this,” he agrees, slightly breathy as his finger works its way inside. He shifts slightly, adjusting. 

Keigo immediately falls forward onto the bed, bracing himself on his hands and knees, and leans forward, kissing his thigh. Touya drops his free hand into his hair, dragging him back toward his cock. He lets out a breathy moan, golden eyes flicking up to look at him.  

“Don’t tease. I said get to work,” he murmurs. 

“Sorry. I–yeah,” he says quickly. He runs his tongue across the flushed tip, and Touya closes his eyes for a moment. He curls his finger, searching, and then huffs at the pleasure that shocks through his spine. Keigo reaches out, gripping his thigh, then takes him into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Touya whispers. “Keigo, that’s good. Think you can take more?” he asks. Keigo slips down lower in answer, rubbing his thumb in circles on his thigh. His teeth lightly scrape along his length, and Touya jerks. “Ah–teeth, teeth,” he gasps, twitching. 

Keigo pulls back. “Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs frantically. “Haven’t–sorry!” 

“S’okay, Birdie,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “Try again. Lips over your teeth,” he murmurs. 

“Right. Yeah. You’re–so distracting,” he mumbles. He reaches forward, grabbing his other thigh, and tries again. Touya works in another finger while Keigo works him up again with small licks, taking him back in. 

It’s smoother this time, bringing him back in halfway. Keigo pauses, breathing through his nose, hesitating, then tries to push a little further, making a small choking sound. 

“Relax,” Touya murmurs. 

Keigo’s hand tense, then relax, along with his jaw. He slides further down, then slips back a few times, working his tongue. 

“Ngh, feels–feels good,” he whispers, tipping his head back. It does–almost too good. He slips in a third finger, working himself the rest of the way open with haste. Probably a bit too quickly. “Keigo…” 

“Mmm?” Keigo hums. Touya gasps, his hand gripping his hair tightly at the feeling. 

“Fuck. If you do that again, I’m–not responsible for if I finish down your throat,” he warns. 

A pause. 

Keigo slips further down, his fingers tightening slightly on his thighs, and he hums, a pleased sound, just as Touya’s fingers brush against the spot that makes him sees stars–

“A-ah! Keigo, fuck–fuck,” he gasps, coiling forward as the orgasm strikes like lightning, leaving him breathless. He curls forward, riding it out for a moment, then leans back, slipping his fingers out to brace himself against the bed, heedless of the mess. “... Jesus,” he groans. 

Keigo pulls back, swallowing. “I see why you liked that so much,” he says, voice gravelly. 

Touya drops back onto the pillows, letting his legs fall open. “Yeah?” he asks, watching him. “Liked that, Keigo?” 

He shivers, nodding. “Yeah. Really liked that. Liked hearing you call my name. Liked seeing you come. Liked tasting you.” 

Touya holds out his hand. “Come on. I want you to fuck me. Like this,” he says. It’s probably a mistake. Staring him in the eyes like this is… probably a mistake. This whole night is probably a mistake. 

Keigo wastes no time, sliding in between his legs. He leans down, grabbing his chin, one thumb under his jaw, his claws resting on his cheek, and presses his lips to Touya’s. He kisses him hard, throwing an arm around him to keep him close. He wraps one leg around his waist, pulling him in closer, and Keigo gasps against his lips, nodding quickly. He pulls away just enough to grab for the bottle of lube, taking the time to slick himself. 

Touya moans when he presses against him, sliding in. It hasn’t been that long since they did this previously, and with his preparation, it goes easier than he expects. Keigo slides in, one smooth motion, and Touya grabs at his back, nails digging into his shoulder, one hand resting in the feathers of his left wing. 

“How does it–How is it?” Keigo asks, his voice tight. 

“Good, good. Move, c’mon, fuck me already, Keigo,” he demands. He wraps both of his legs around his waist, rolling his hips to try to force him to move. He’s oversensitive from cumming once already, frankly, but it’s adding to the sensations more than detracting. Everything is so much and not enough, and he just wants more. 

“Fuck, okay, yeah,” he says. “Fast or slow?” 

“You said you were going to fuck me into the mattress. Does that sound like slow to you?” he asks, frustrated. “Come on, move.” 

Keigo pulls back, snapping forward in one quick motion. 

“Oh!” he gasps. “Again, like that,” he demands. 

“Anything for you,” Keigo repeats, voice rough. He bites his collarbone, starting a quick, rough pace that has Touya gasping, sending all thoughts of control and being in charge out the window. He’s just–sensation, whirling waves of pleasure underneath Keigo. 

“God, love the sounds you make. So fucking–can’t believe how good you look,” Keigo huffs. He drags him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, not slowing his pace in the slightest. 

“Are you–” He gasps, tossing his head back. “Fuck, Keigo, there, there, there,” he moans, rolling his hips down. “Are you close?” 

“Y-Yeah,” Keigo chokes out. “Not ‘til you do.” 

“What?” he asks, dazed. 

“Not gonna cum til you do,” he says, angling his hips to hit the spot that had him gasping. “Tell me when I can–when I–Christ, you’re so…” 

Touya hears a gasping moan that he realized distantly is coming from him. “Yeah, yeah, about to–” he tries to warn. He tenses, holding onto Keigo, feeling like he’s falling to pieces as he’s dragged through his second orgasm. It’s almost painful in its pleasure, and he drags his nails across Keigo’s shoulder, gasping through it, distantly aware of Keigo pulling back, warmth splattering across his hips and stomach as Keigo moans his name. 

Touya sinks into the pillows after a long moment, blinking at him. “... Did you–pull out?” he asks. 

Keigo laughs breathlessly, dropping his head against his shoulder. “I didn’t last time. Felt kinda rude since I can’t help you clean up.” He taps his nails against Touya’s collarbone, and he shivers. 

He laughs. “Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”

Keigo shifts over, laying down on his stomach next to him, turning his head to watch him. He props himself up, smirking. “Exit survey? 10/10 would fuck again? 2/10, no thanks? 5/10, should have brought some Andes mints for the road?” he asks, voice lilting with mirth. 

Touya snickers, reaching for a spare pillow to smack him with. “Nine out of ten. Blew my back out, sassed me at the end,” he snarks. 

“Sass at the end is part of the service!” he argues. “It should only add to my rating!” 

“Christ. I need a shower. Then you’re buying us food,” Touya says, pushing up carefully, wincing slightly at the soreness in his hips. “Something good.” 

“Shower?” Keigo asks, grinning. “Need some help?” 

Touya sighs. “Yeah, alright. Just ‘cause I don’t wanna walk,” he says, offering his arms up. Keigo scoops him up immediately, walking him over to the shower. They take turns washing each other, mostly in silence. 

Touya feels the question settling down in between them, the one Keigo won’t ask, and the one he doesn’t want to ask, the one he knows the answer he wants and the answer he has to give. 

Keigo washes his hair again. Dries him off, gently, carefully. He follows him back to the bedroom, puts on a pair of boxers and one of his shirts while Keigo changes the sheets. Goes and sits on the couch while he searches for a good takeout place. 

“... This doesn’t change anything,” Touya murmurs finally. 

Keigo pauses, thumb hovering over the takeout app. He smiles an odd little smile, tilting his head. “I know,” he replies, his voice quiet. “I didn’t think it would.” 

Touya nods once, looking away. “... As long as you know.” 

It doesn’t. It doesn’t change anything. There’s still too much unsaid between them for this to change anything, so it can’t. 

It won’t.

Chapter Text

Keigo wakes up to a line of warmth along his side, an arm around his waist, and an ankle hooked around his. 

He opens his eyes slowly, startled to see blue eyes already staring back at him, looking soft with sleep and–something else. Touya blinks, leaning back slightly. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to stare.” 

“No, no. By all means. Stare away,” Keigo says, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. Touya didn’t leave. He stayed. “What time is it?” 

He shifts, leaning back to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “Ugh. Early,” he says, rolling back over. “Seven.” 

“Mmm. Thursday… Think I’m off today,” Keigo muses. “Do you work?” 

“Mnhm,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “Just need to pick Shou up from school later this afternoon. S’my turn since I’m off.” 

Dinner turned into a movie on the couch, which turned into Touya falling asleep on the couch. Keigo had picked him up and brought him to bed, and he didn’t–object. So… here they were. Still… together. In the morning. 

“This doesn’t change anything.” 

His face says that it does, but Touya’s words have always been clearer than his face. Keigo looks over his face, watching the lines of his brow. “... Want something for breakfast?” he asks. 

Touya’s brow furrows. He can see the indecision. 

“... We don’t have to,” Keigo mumbles, turning his face into the pillow. He feels… vaguely raw. Every time he turns, Touya pulls away. Every time he holds out his hand, Touya pulls back. He’ll keep holding out his hand, he’ll keep taking whatever Touya will give, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. 

“If it hurts you, then yes.” 

It almost hurts more that Touya cares that it hurts. He knows it hurts Touya the same, wishes he would just–give in. Let it be soft and kind. 

Touya’s hand rests in his hair, drawing his attention again. He looks back to see Touya frowning, brow pinched. 

“Come on. Breakfast, Birdie. Let me go see what you have,” he murmurs, nudging him out of bed. He shifts back, pushing to his feet, and stretches tall. Keigo looks over him. He’s wearing one of his shirts, a plain black one that hangs a little loose around his shoulders. He can see the scars around his collarbones, the one around his wrist, and his thigh, his knee. Touya never lets anyone see these, but he barely seems to notice that they’re on display here, for Keigo to see. 

Keigo slips out of bed as well, following Touya out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, slightly panicked. “Uhhh… I’m not sure what I’ve got,” he hedges. 

Touya opens his fridge, staring blankly for a moment. “... Why do you only have a beer and a thing of mustard in here?” he asks slowly. 

“I… have an explanation.” 

Touya closes the fridge, opening the freezer. “... That’s just a box of KFC.” He picks it up, rattling it. “It’s empty, Keigo.” 

“I have an explanation. I really do.” 

He closes the freezer, moving over to the pantry. “Why is there just–is this just–is this seven boxes of redbull? Keigo,” he says firmly, spinning around to look at him. 

“I have an explanation,” he whines. 

“I would love to hear it,” he says, crossing his arms. 

“... I’m… I’m… in between… shopping trips?” he says slowly. 

“I’m convinced you’ve never been to a store,” Touya says, laughing incredulously. “I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone less put together than me, but I think you’ve managed it.” 

“... So… delivery?” he asks weakly, holding up his phone. 

“You know they deliver groceries, right? So you can have actual food?” he asks, smirking. 

“Didn’t your sister say you can only cook soba?” he grumbles, searching through the apps for something acceptable. “Pancakes?” 

Touya snorts. “Pancakes,” he agrees. “I can cook, like… eggs. Ramen. Soba.” 

“That’s about three more things than I can cook,” Keigo says, putting in an order for some pancakes and sausage. He passes over his phone to Touya, who clicks through, searching for something to order. He settles down on the couch, frowning as Keigo sits down as well, flaring his wings to hang them over the armrest, slightly too high to be strictly comfortable, but adequate. 

“Why’d you buy this couch, anyway? They make sectionals, you know. You can get one that has a part without a back,” he points out. 

Keigo pauses. “... I uh… didn’t buy it,” he admits. 

Touya tilts his head. “Pre-furnished apartment?” he asks, glancing around. 

He hesitates. “The HPSC bought it,” he says slowly. 

“... Why?” It’s a fair question. His connection to the HPSC isn’t public knowledge. None of it is, really. 

Keigo glances at him, takes a breath, and decides fuck it. “They own me, so they figured they should own the apartment I’m in, too,” he says casually. 

Touya stares at him for a long moment, face blank. Then his face twists in confusion. “They… own you,” he repeats blankly. “Explain.” 

He shifts on the couch, crossing his legs, and drums his nails on his knees, thinking. “I’ve never talked through this with anyone before,” he warns. “I don’t know how to. It’s going to sound–weird. Try not to interrupt me, if you can. I’m not sure I’ll be able to–to start up again, once I stop.” 

Touya nods once, his eyes rapt on Keigo. 

“I don’t remember my father’s first name,” he says slowly. “They just called him Takami, when they referred to him at all. My mother never really referred to him by name, and if she talked to me, it was... perfunctory, nonsensical. To make sure I would stay inside, out of sight, that I would just–stay put, you know? She wasn’t always in her right mind, y’see?” He shifts. “My father was a–villain, I guess.” 

He tips his head back, looking at the ceiling. “... He killed a man. For his money. He told me, once, when he drank too much, that he got fifteen hundred yen out of his pockets, and that he was hiding for life with me and my mom. Fifteen hundred yen.” Keigo’s quiet for a long moment. 

“I was inside for most of my life, Touya. I didn’t even know that heroes were real, you know? I watched TV. A lot of TV. But I was, what, five? Six? I couldn’t tell the difference between the news and action TV shows. I thought it was all the same. All Might and Endeavor and Mirko, they were all–amazing, but I didn’t know they were real until Endeavor arrested my father.” 

He hears Touya inhale sharply, and he glances down, seeing his expression tighten, his teeth grit. 

Keigo holds his gaze. “I was shocked,” he murmurs. “I’d dreamed about it, obviously. Heroes coming to save me from… everything. But it happened. A character from TV just… walked off the screen and saved me. Took him away…” He watches Touya’s face fall, understanding fill his eyes. 

Does any of this make any sense? Keigo feels like he’s just–talking. Just… throwing out words. He shakes his head, focusing. Get to the point. “Essentially, the HPSC can… if a child shows enough potential, if they’re exceptional enough, if they’re interesting enough, if they’re unconnected enough… the HPSC can invest in that potential,” he starts slowly. “If, say, a child has a father who’s been arrested. A mother who’s ill, under the influences of… well, everything. If, say, a child makes an impression by accident with an unintentional act of vigilantism after being in hiding for several years without any records because of the aforementioned reasons.” 

“... How?” Touya asks softly. 

“A car accident. A truck out of control, a pileup in motion.” He shrugs. “I–I rescued people. A lot of them. It could have gone very poorly, but I was lucky, and it didn’t. The HPSC caught wind of it, and they found me later.” He looks away, taking a shaky breath. “Too close,” he mumbles. He needs more–space. From this. From everything. “So… so… Like I was saying. If a child were chosen in this way, who they were would be–gone. Their parents, should they have any left, would be compensated handsomely. A mother in that situation would be well taken care of, and put… away somewhere,” he says, looking away. “The child wouldn’t know where. It would be a distraction, y’see? It would be trained to use its Quirk efficiently, to charm the media, to be a proper hero. And then it would go on to do that, under very close supervision.” He stands up, pacing across the living room. “In exchange, the HPSC would handle all of the little details for them. Housing. Contracts. PR. Agencies. Whatever. They would–they would own them, y’know. For their own sake.” He spins, breaking into a big grin, the trademark Hawks smile. “And they would become a cookie-cutter top ten hero! Everyone wins, you know? The hero world is better, the people are safer, and everyone is the better for it.” 

Touya stands up, staring at him. “Is–is that it? Are you done?” he asks quietly. 

Keigo laughs bleakly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that covers it.” 

“Then… I have questions.”

“Ask them. I’ll tell you anything.” It scares him how true that is. 

Touya looks down, jaw taut. “... What about you?” he asks. 

Keigo blinks. “What… about me?” 

“You said everyone wins. The hero world is better. The people are safer. Everyone is better. Are you better for it? Do you win?” he asks. “Are they–what do they do if you want something that they don’t?” 

He laughs. It’s soft at first, then louder. He leans forward, holding himself around the middle. “That’s–that’s your first question?” he asks, breathless. 

“Is that question particularly funny?” Touya asks, eyes intense. 

“I’ve just–never been asked it. I don’t know,” he answers, stepping forward to grab him around the waist, dragging him forward. He drops his forehead against Touya’s, closing his eyes. “I don’t know how to answer it. I thought so. I really did. I thought it’s what I wanted, I really, really did. Why would I ever want anything else besides everyone else to be safe? For the world to be better?” 

Touya sets a hand on his hip, breath shallow, waiting. 

“But when I was sixteen, I–I saw something. I saw a boy in a news article, burning a firebreak for a small rural town that no one cared about. I saw picture after picture of him wreathed in flames, with the most intense gaze I’ve ever seen, coated in ash, looking so determined . I saw someone ready to fight the world, and I knew he’d win. I–Touya, I saw you, and I… You know what I saw. You know what I felt. You know what I wanted,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Touya’s breath hitches. “... That long ago?” he asks quietly. 

He nods once. “But–I… I… You’re right. They think you’re a distraction.” He opens his eyes. Touya’s eyes are so soft, so open for once. “My handler was here. The–the night after you left,” he admits. “She asked why you. I had to justify you.” 

“How did you justify me?” he asks. 

Keigo looks away, shame flooding through him. “You’re going to hate me.” 

“Tell me what happens if they don’t believe your justification, Keigo,” he says. “I have an idea, but I think you need to say it.” 

He swallows. “It–depends. If they believe that I’m distracted, and it’s my fault alone, then, re-education.” He’s–too raw. Too open. Too Keigo right now to stop the way he shakes. Touya’s arms wind around his waist tightly. “If they believe you’re involved, that you’ll be a problem, too… My handler said you would be. Taken care of.” 

“Handler,” Touya repeats. 

“We all have one. All of the agents that are–taken in by the HPSC. We have someone assigned to us, to watch us. To keep track of us, to take our reports, correct us when we stray. They’re all a little different. Some are more hands on than others.” 

“Correct you when you stray,” Touya repeats flatly. “How do they correct you?” he asks. 

Keigo flinches. 

“Sorry. Sorry. You don’t have to answer.” Touya rubs his back. “I understand. I won’t hate you. Tell me. How did you justify me?” he asks.

He swallows. “... You’re Endeavor’s son. I’ll use you to entreat with him, of course. And if that doesn’t work, you’ll come work with my agency in time. You’re a good hero, and you’ll be an asset. That if we slept together, I could boost you into a better hero and use the media attention to in turn push my own rankings up.” 

Touya’s hand pauses. “Not a bad plan,” he says slowly. 

“It never was my actual plan,” he says quickly. “Ever, I never planned to–”

Touya puts a hand over his mouth. “Shhh, Keigo. I know you’re not here for Endeavor. I’m saying it’s… not a bad plan now,” he says carefully. “Joining your agency. Playing the media. Making them think that’s what we’re doing. If that’s what’s–safe. For you.” He hesitates. “Is… Is that why you wanted me to join your–” 

“No,” he says sharply. “I genuinely want you there. I want to work with you. If I could have you as a hero partner, I think I’d–be happier. But it would put everything you did under scrutiny,” he mumbles, frustrated. “Everything I do gets logged for the HPSC. They have hands on all of my books. They run half of my agency, half of my missions–” 

“So, we fix that,” Touya says firmly. “I join your agency, and you give me names. Any you have. Your handler. Anyone you talk to who knows what’s going on. Any papers you can get your hands on. I want to know how deeply it goes, what projects are involved in this. And we’ll–pull this out at the roots. However we need to.” 

Keigo stares at him. “... You…” He steps away, running shaky hands through his hair. “You want to–dismantle the HPSC.” 

“Not… necessarily all of it,” he murmurs. “We would need allies. We would need to know what we’re dealing with. Who we can trust, if anyone. Anything we did would be your call–I wouldn’t do anything without your approval,” he says. He looks away. “Your neck would be on the line, and all the risk would be yours.” 

“It wouldn’t,” Keigo says sharply. “The risk would be yours, too. They could make you disappear, Touya. If you’re caught looking into the wrong thing, that’s it. Fuyumi, Natsuo, Shouto, they could be at risk, too, if they think that any of them know something.” 

Touya paces away, shoulders hunching. “... Tell me this. Are Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto safe if I do nothing?” he asks after a moment, spinning around to look at him. “Is Shouto safe if I do nothing? If I do nothing, what’s to stop them from being interested in him later, or from him stumbling into this later? He’s smart, Keigo. His friend Midoriya is smarter. They both see things that we don’t. If we don’t figure out how deep this goes before they become heroes, what’s to stop the HPSC from taking advantage of them? They’re in charge of everything to do with heroes, Keigo. If they’re rigging the system, stealing children off the street and engineering the top ten, what else are they doing?” he asks desperately. 

Keigo shakes his head, because he–he knows some of what they’re doing. “I… It’s not great,” he admits quietly. 

Touya watches him for a moment. “... Are you going to expand on that?” 

“I can’t. Not–not right now. It’s too much,” he says, shaking his head. He can hardly breathe. It feels like there’s an anvil resting on his chest, choking the air out of his lungs. 

“Okay. Alright,” Touya says, leaning down to look at him. “Can I…?” he offers his hands. Keigo nods quickly, reaching out toward him. Touya gathers him up immediately, pulling them both back onto the couch. He pulls Keigo into his lap, holding onto him with a reassuringly tight pressure, rocking side to side gently. “S’alright. We’re alright. Gonna be alright, Birdie.” 

He’s vaguely aware that he’s wheezing–oh, that’s why Touya is doing this. He’s freaking out. 

“You’re okay. We’re okay. Come on. Breathe with me, yeah?” he murmurs. “You can feel me breathing, can’t you, Keigo?” 

Keigo nods jerkily into his shoulder. He can feel his chest rising and falling, even and calm against his own frantically heaving chest. He tries to match it, tries to slow his own breath. 

He feels the slight hitch in Touya’s breath only because he’s so focused on it, and realizes that he’s–clutching at Touya’s back, his nails digging into the skin of his back. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Touya, I’m so sorry,” he gasps, loosening his grip immediately. 

“It’s fine, you’re fine. Look at me, I’m fine. Just breathe, don’t worry about that,” Touya says quickly, running his thumbs in soothing circles along his back. 

Keigo buries his head into Touya’s neck, closing his eyes, keeping his nails away from Touya’s skin. His breath slowly evens out while Touya murmurs quietly, litanies of, “It’s fine, we’re okay, we’re alright,” in a soothing, soft voice, rocking him side to side. He wonders if Touya did this for Shouto, for Natsuo, for Fuyumi. It feels like a practiced motion, something he’s at ease with. 

He takes a slow, even breath, then leans back. “... Sorry,” he whispers. “Did I–Is your back…?” he asks, running his fingers along his back. He winces when he feels damp fabric. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” he murmurs. 

“It’s bleeding,” Keigo says back. 

Touya blinks. “It–what?” He leans forward slightly. 

“Can you not feel it?” Keigo asks, concerned. 

He bites his lip. “... There was pressure. It was–my spine, right?” he asks uncertainly. 

“Yeah. Just here,” he murmurs, running his fingers over it again. 

Touya shakes his head. “I can’t feel certain parts of my back,” he admits, his voice soft. 

Keigo thinks of the tapestry of burns across his spine, across his back. “... Oh,” he whispers. “I see.” 

Touya nods. “Could you–tell me if it’s… bad?” he asks uncertainly. “If it needs something?” 

Keigo nods quickly, scrambling off of his lap. “Turn around.”

Touya shifts around, and Keigo winces at the ten little spots of blood on his shirt where his nails dug in. He carefully pulls his shirt up, examining them. “... They’re not bad, but we should still dress them,” he mumbles. “Come with me to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah, okay.” Touya follows him, quiet while they walk across the apartment and settle down in the bathroom. He pulls off his shirt, setting it aside as he watches Keigo pull out the first aid kit. Keigo pulls out the antiseptic, carefully cleaning the marks. His eyes trail along the burns. The worst seem to go from the top of his spine to the bottom, flaring across his right hip. There’s a second burn that flares across his left shoulder blade to his right shoulder, overlapping his spine again; that’s where it looks the most painful, the angriest. He bandages the wounds carefully. 

Keigo spans his hand across his back, sliding across carefully until Touya twitches. “... Are you… going to tell me about these?” he asks quietly. 

Touya tenses. 

“You don’t have to. I just… wonder. If they come from your Quirk or…” 

His shoulders slump. “... No,” he murmurs. “Not those. The one on my leg does. And the ones on my chest.” He puts his head in his hands, letting out a shaky sigh. “Endeavor and I used to… go somewhere. It’s–a beautiful place. It was, anyway. A mountainous area, with a little stream, some trees. It’s called Sekoto Peak.” 

Keigo moves to step in front of him, but Touya puts a hand out, keeping him from moving. “Stay. Please,” he whispers. “I can’t–look at you. Not while I… Please.” 

Keigo sinks back down, putting his head down against his back. “Yeah. Okay,” he whispers.

Touya shudders. “... In Sekoto Peak, we had space. There was room to work with our fire properly, for us to let loose against each other in ways we couldn’t in the–the…” He swallows with an audible click. “In the training room at home. We risked burning the place down if we let loose properly at home. I was thirteen the last time we… I called it training, but hindsight would call it fighting, as much as a thirteen-year-old could fight a pro-hero. I burned myself every time I fought back, but I fought as hard as I could, because every time I landed a hit, he would tell me, ‘That’s it, Touya! That one almost felt like something!’ and it was the–closest I ever got to his approval. I got dizzy, tried to dodge just wrong, and…” His voice dies for a moment, then resumes, barely a breath. “He burned me. His flames were–hot. Hotter than he’s ever used on me before. I don’t know if he just expected me not to be there, or if he was mad that I was weak again, but it…” He shudders, hard. “Keigo, I can’t. I can’t.” 

“You don’t have to. You don’t, not for me, not for anyone, it’s okay,” he says quickly, running his hands along his sides. 

Touya turns in his arms, grabbing for him again, pulling him back into his arms. He buries his face into his neck, clinging to him. 

“It’s okay,” Keigo coos quietly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s okay.” 

“We’re… We’re a mess,” Touya whispers against his neck. “Both of us. Aren’t we?” he asks. 

Keigo laughs shakily. “Yeah. I think we are.” 

“Alright,” he murmurs. “We can do this.” 

Keigo leans back, staring at him. “Do… Do what?” 

Touya looks away, at the ground. “I’ll join your agency. We’ll do what we need to make you safe, and we’ll do what we need to to stop Tenko.” 

“We’ll keep you safe, and we’ll make sure it’s safe for Shouto, when he becomes a hero,” Keigo murmurs. 

“For Shouto,” Touya echoes softly. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya pinches the bridge of his nose. “... It’s called what?” he asks, feeling the last of his patience burn away. He’s tired. He talked about far too much with Keigo this morning to try to figure out what the hell Shouto is talking about right now, and Midoriya talks too fast to keep up with. Bakugo is too damn loud. Picking all three of them up at once was a mistake. 

“Hashtag Hotwings,” Shouto deadpans. “It’s your boat name.” 

“Ship name, Todoroki,” Midoriya corrects. “It’s short for relationship–it’s like when you think two people would be… cute together, I guess? So, you–ship them. It’s kinda weird to do with real people, though, so I don’t really get it when people do it with heroes. But it’s pretty popular in the hero community, anyway. And since I study heroes so much, I kinda know all of the popular ones, and uh… yeah… you guys are really popular,” he says sheepishly. “Especially after that reporter took pictures of you eating soba together. And you going to his apartment that one time–that one was–pretty big actually? Yeah, that was… That one broke Twitter, actually.” 

“Literally who the fuck caaaaaaaaaaares,” Bakugo groans, dropping his head against the back seat. 

Touya shifts uncomfortably. “Someone took a picture of me–going to his apartment?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Shouto says, scrolling through his phone. “‘Hashtag Hotwings Update: Oh-Em-Gee, I cannot believe this. Girls, look at this. Let’s go, lesbians. Snap emoji, clapping emoji, scream emoji, clapping emoji. Hawks invited Comet back to his place, and it looks like he said Y-E-S, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point. Gasp. I cannot even. I have lost the will to even,’” Shouto reads, voice flat. 

Midoriya wheezes behind his hands, trying to stifle his laughter, and Bakugo cackles. “Holy fuck, Icyhot, that was the worst rendition of a tweet I’ve ever heard.” 

“Alright, well. That’s–a huge breach of both of our privacy, but alright,” he mutters, guiding the car away from the school. “I mentioned I hate the press, right?” 

“Once or twice,” Shouto says. 

“Like, a day,” Bakugo grumbles. “Every time I see you. Why are you a hero again?” 

“Wait ‘til you become a hero, walking scandal. You’ll see what I mean,” he fires back. “You’re going to be a PR team’s worst nightmare.” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean? I’m going to be the best! I’ll make the press my bitch,” Bakugo snaps. 

“You know you can’t actually cuss on most major interviews, right?” Touya replies, amused. 

“The hell does that mean? I can talk without cussing,” he growls. 

Midoriya snorts. “Kacchan,” he says carefully. “You–You just–” 

“What, Deku?” he snaps. 

“Nothing!” he squeaks. 

“Bakugo,” Shouto says, turning around to frown at him. 

Bakugo throws himself into the corner of the seat, crossing his arms with a huff. “Whatever,” he grumbles. 

Touya watches him settle back down like a scruffed kitten, brows raised. The hell did his brother do on that beach? 

“Oi,” he says. “Are you brats staying over, or are you just staying for dinner?” 

“Just dinner!” Midoriya chirps.

“Over,” Bakugo grunts. “Old hag is being a pain.” 

“Heard. Does she need me to call her when we get in?” he asks, pulling into the apartment complex. 

“Yeah, probably,” he mutters, looking down. 

“Alright. I’ll handle it. Go on inside, you guys,” Touya says, waving them on in. “‘Yumi’ll be home in twenty-ish minutes. He twists the key out of the ignition, tossing it to Shouto so he can let himself in. “I’ll be up after I’m done on the phone.” 

He waits until they’re out of the car and up the stairs before he pulls his phone out, scrolling through his recent calls for Bakugo’s mom’s number. He sighs. He does not like talking to her. 

“... One, two, three, go,” he mutters, hitting dial. 

“Yeah, hello, Mitsuki Bakugo!” she shouts. 

“Afternoon, Mrs. Bakugo,” Touya says. “I picked up your son from school–Shouto mentioned he might want to see about having him stay over, if that was alright with–” 

“Oh, yeah, you can keep the brat, that’s fine with me!” she yells. “Whatever you wanna do. Not sure if you wanna deal with him for the whole night or not, though, he’s kind of a nuisance,” she says, cackling. 

He holds the phone away slightly, breathing slowly out of his nose. “It’ll be fine. We’d enjoy having him for the night. I did want to remind you that we’ve got Shouto’s birthday tomorrow, as well. Do you want us to pick him up directly from school tomorrow as well? We can probably keep him overnight again, if that would be–” 

“Oh, shit, two nights in a row?” The volume decreases as she pulls the phone away from her mouth. “Honey, Katsuki’s little friend wants to keep him for two whole nights! I think he made an actual friend! No, yeah, I didn’t think he knew how to do that either!” 

“... Mrs. Bakugo?” he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah! Sure, you can do that if you’re sure you’re not gonna get sick of him. Let me know if you need to toss him out early,” she says, cackling again. 

“Definitely not going to be a problem. I’ll take care of it. Does he need anything? Medicine or anything for school?” he checks. 

“Nah, he’s pretty self-sufficient, he’ll take care of himself,” she dismisses. “If he doesn’t, it’s on him.” 

Touya frowns. “... Alright. Thanks. I’ll bring him back Saturday morning or afternoon, then,” he says slowly. 

“Sounds good! Thanks, Todoroki!” She hangs up with a click. 

He stares at the phone for a moment. “... Fuck, I hate that lady,” he mumbles. He clicks over to Midoriya’s mom, calling her next. 

“Hello, this is Inko Midoriya speaking!” she chirps. 

“Hello, Ms. Midoriya,” he says. “Just calling to let you know I picked up Midoriya. He said he’s staying for dinner, and either I or Fuyumi will bring him home afterwards if that sounds alright?” he asks. 

“Oh, that’s fine! I can pick him up on my way home from work; I get off at eight, if that’s not too late, I’ll be driving right past there,” she says.

“That’ll be great, thanks. Anything you want me to make sure he works on?” he checks. 

“No, I don’t think so, just make sure he eats enough, please!” Inko insists. 

He hums. “‘Course. Will do. See you at eight,” he says. “Don’t work too hard.” 

“Thank you! Good night, Todoroki!” 

He hums again, then hangs up. He gets out of the car, heading up to the apartment. Bakugo is–yeah, alright. 

Bakugo has Midoriya on the floor in an arm bar, and Shouto has Bakugo in a headlock. Bakugo and Midoriya are both yelling, while Shouto is calmly telling Bakugo to let go. 

Touya pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a slow breath. “HEY!” he shouts. Everyone freezes, staring at him. “I was gone for five goddamn minutes. What the fuck?” 

“He said that–” Shouto starts, trying to reasonably explain, presumably, what the fuck. 

“I love you, Shouto, but I don’t actually care what the fuck. Everyone get off of everyone else. Now.” He snaps, and everyone scatters, letting go and scrambling in three different directions. Midoriya rolls his shoulder in its socket, and Bakugo twists his neck awkwardly. “Thanks. I’m gonna go take a shower. You three are going to sit on the couch, and keep your hands to yourself , and put on a movie or something. There’s popcorn in there, and like… fuck all kinds of candy. Go crazy. Give yourselves the worst sugar high before dinner,” he says, waving his hand toward the kitchen. “Pantry, top shelf. Midoriya, don’t tell your mom, I told her you were going to eat well for dinner,” he adds as an afterthought. 

Touya shuffles off toward the bathroom running a hand over his face. 

Shouto hesitates, then follows after him, grabbing his wrist in the hallway. “Touya,” he says quietly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He sighs. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He reaches out, ruffling his hair. “I’ll be fine. Just had a rough morning, kid. Go hang out with your friends, yeah?” 

Shouto squints at him for a moment. “Did Hawks do something?” he presses. “If he hurt your feelings–” 

“He didn’t. It’s fine, Shou. Really. We just talked some shit out, and I’m tired now. Can you keep your friends mellow for me til ‘Yumi gets home to help me wrangle?” he asks. 

Shouto pauses, then nods. “Yeah. I can do that.” 

“Thanks. You’re an alright brother,” he says, smirking. 

He smiles back, a little twitch of his lips. “You’re a really good brother, too, Touya,” he says, all perfect sincerity in that way that goes straight for the jugular. 

Touya blinks at him. “... Okay, go hang out with your friends,” he says, voice slightly choked up. He turns him around, pushing him toward the livingroom, because fuck that went straight for his heart. He darts into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and scrambles for the shower faucet, smacking at it blindly. He barely manages to turn it on before the first of his tears spill over. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Friday is irritating. His day starts off with Gunhead calling him into his office. 

“So,” Gunhead says slowly, brows raised.

“So?” Touya asks, tilting his head. 

“Hawks put in a bid for your contract this morning,” he prompts. “Hawks put in a bid that is four times what your contract is worth, actually,” he amends. 

Touya chokes. “He did what?” He had kind of thought they were going to–talk about it a little more, but Hawks is known for his speed, so he probably should have expected this. 

“‘For the short notice. I’d like to move him over immediately, if possible,’” he reads off of his computer screen. “Did he uh… Did he talk to you about that?” 

Touya runs a hand through his hair. “Christ. We–we talked about moving over eventually. I didn’t realize he was going to… do it now. Or like that. I would’ve given you more of a heads up. I’m so sorry,” he says. 

“Uhuh,” Gunhead says, appraising him. “Hawks is kind of… known for this. When he sees a hero he likes, he snaps them up pretty quick.” 

“I really didn’t anticipate it happening like this. I’m really sorry. When he says–immediately,” Touya says slowly. 

“We’d do the paperwork today, then tomorrow you’d swap over, if this is what you wanted,” he says. “Is this what you want?” 

“Can I–make a phone call? I need to talk to someone for a moment,” he says uncertainly. 

“Yeah, of course. Go ahead.” 

Touya nods, stepping back out of the office. He walks out of the agency, shuffling over to the side under a tree to pull out his phone, clicking on Hawks’ contact info. It barely rang. 

“Comet!” Keigo answers immediately. 

He takes a slow breath. Right. They’re Hawks and Comet right now. 

“Hawks,” he answers. “You already bought out my contract,” he says, voice low to avoid being overheard. “Did you think, maybe, you should have–I don’t know–told me that?”

A pause. 

“We… agreed on it,” he says uncertainly. “Yesterday. Didn’t we? That was the plan.” 

“Yes, but I didn’t realize we would be doing it–right away,” he hisses. “I’m.” He swallows, leaning his forehead against the tree in front of him. 

“... Hey. Talk to me. What’s happening?” Keigo asks quietly. He hears a door shut. He must be in his office. 

“I didn’t think it was going to happen so fast is all,” he answers flatly. “I would have liked a little more time to prepare.” 

“Oh.” An uncomfortable shift, a flutter of feathers. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s–fine. I just–needed a second. Gunhead was staring at me waiting for an answer, and I needed a moment to breathe,” he admits. 

Another pause. “... So, you called me?” he asks. He sounds almost… pleased. 

Touya huffs. “Yeah, so I called you. Don’t sound so pleased, Birdie,” he murmurs, turning around so his back is resting to the tree. He smirks slightly.  

“I think I will sound so pleased, actually,” Keigo says with a delighted little laugh. “I get to see you and the rest of the ‘rokis tonight, too.” 

“Mmhm,” he agrees. “My brother is fifteen.” He sighs. “Do you know what he said to me yesterday?”

“What?” 

“He told me I was a really good brother,” Touya murmurs, crossing an arm over his chest. 

Keigo coos into the phone, a noise that’s more bird than human. “Oh, that’s so sweet. He’s right, you know. You are a really good brother to him. To all of them, really.” 

He sighs, tipping his head back. “I hope so.” He glances down, frowning when he sees the flash of a camera lens across the street. He groans. “Goddamn press. Alright. I’m going back inside. Don’t forget the cake tonight,” he says, turning away to go back inside. 

“I won’t. It’s literally my one job. Bring cake. Show up.” 

“That’s two jobs,” Touya points out. 

“Ah, well. In that case, the evening will be in ruins,” Keigo says lightly. 

“Don’t even joke. Natsuo will have a heart attack,” Touya warns. 

Keigo laughs. “Bye, Comet. See you tonight.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Bye.” He hangs up, tucking his phone away, then takes a deep breath. He pauses just outside the office. 

“C’mon in. That was quick,” Gunhead says, tilting his head. 

“Yeah. Just needed to check on one thing. Sorry,” he murmurs. He steps inside, linking his hands behind his back. “I do want it. The–the transfer, I mean. I’ll go.” 

Gunhead nods. “Good,” he says firmly. He opens a drawer, digging out a few folders and pulling some packets of paper out. 

“Good?” Touya asks. 

“Good. You need to be in higher ranking agencies,” he says firmly. “It’s the only way you’re going to advance, Comet. And Hawks’ patrol route is larger than ours, so it’ll have more opportunities for you. He gets a lot of high profile cases to consult on, too.” He holds out a stack of papers. “Fill these out.” 

He nods, looking over the papers. “... Alright. Thank you, sir. I do really appreciate the time I’ve had here. Your agency has taught me a lot,” he murmurs. He bows. 

Gunhead tips his head in the way that means he’s smiling behind his mask. “Thanks, kid. Means a lot.” 

Touya turns, heading back to his desk, and settles down to fill out the paperwork. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya’s actually running a little early. Since he spent the day filling out paperwork and sending transfer requests for access instead of actually patrolling, he left almost thirty minutes earlier than he thought he would. He’s got two gift bags in one hand, his bag half falling off of his shoulder, a bag of Shouto’s favorite strawberry candies pinned in his other hand while he fumbles with his keys. The door swings open, and Keigo blinks at him.

“Comet!” he says, grinning. “Do you need help?” 

“God, please. I’m dying,” he says, holding out the gift bags. Keigo takes them, then takes his bag, and the candies too. He blinks. “I didn’t need you to take all of it,” he says blankly. 

“It’s fine, come on. Everyone else is already here.” 

Touya steps in, kicking off his boots next to a veritable pile of shoes, including two sets he doesn’t recognize. He pushes the door shut, reaching out to grab Keigo before he can leave the genkan. “You can–” He pauses. He takes a breath. “You can call me Touya,” he says quietly. 

Keigo stares at him, unblinking, for a long moment. “... I can’t be–I can’t, outside of–”

“I know, Hawks. But I can be Touya. For you, here.” He looks away. “It’s fine, is all. If you want.” 

Keigo nods. “Okay, Touya,” he says softly, voice almost reverent. 

He hears a burst of laughter from the kitchen, and he sighs. 

“Come on. Into the fray,” he says, tipping his head toward the living room. He steps in. 

“Touya!” Natsuo calls from the dining room. “Come on, meet Tensei and Tenya!” he yells. 

Touya grimaces, glancing at Keigo. 

“It’s your brother. I can’t save you from this one,” he says, holding up his hands. 

He huffs a sigh. “Some boss you are,” he grumbles, walking into the dining room. 

Two almost identical brothers stand up at the same time, one smaller with glasses and one taller. He recognizes Ingenium, only because he took off his helmet once during an interview. 

“Hello! You’re Todoroki’s older brother, yes? My name is Tenya Iida–it is wonderful to meet you! I hear you’re a wonderful hero. My brother speaks highly of you as well!” His voice is so loud. He throws his hand out to shake, and Touya stares at it. Why does everyone shake hands? He waves. 

“Hey. I’m Touya,” he says awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.” 

Tenya stares at him, hand still doggedly held out. 

The pause extends. 

Bakugo snorts. 

“I’m Tensei!” Tensei says quickly, standing up. “Fuyumi talks about you a lot. I’m not sure if we’ve met–” 

“We have,” he interrupts, because God this is awkward. “Last year, March, team up on the twenty-fourth in the afternoon,” he rattles off, his mouth working before his brain. He pauses–because that’s weird. That’s a weird thing to remember. “... I remember everything I look at and I had to write who was present at that team up on twelve different reports, along with the date and time,” he specifies quickly. “Ingenium is terrible to write, by the way.” He pauses again. “... Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m going to shut up now.” He runs a hand over his face, because Christ, how many different ways can he put his foot in his mouth in three seconds? 

Tensei grins. “That’s actually a really cool skill, Touya,” he says. “Sorry to say I don’t remember that, but it’s cool that you do.” 

“I keep telling him that,” Keigo butts in. 

“It was really handy when I was trying to remember a recipe we had at home. We didn’t have the cards anymore, you know?” Fuyumi chimes in, smiling. “He got tired of my asking all the time, so he transcribed them all from memory for me for my last birthday.” 

Keigo looks at him in awe, and Midoriya makes a little squeaking sound. Bakugo fake-retches loudly, and Touya can get behind that reaction. He grimaces. 

“You could have kept that to yourself,” he mutters. “Shou, what’s the plan, birthday man?” he asks. “Are we doing dinner, games?” 

Shouto blinks. “Oh. I get to pick?” 

Natsuo laughs, ruffling his hair. “‘Course you do. It’s your day.” 

Shouto glances at Midoriya, Bakugo, and Iida. “... What do you guys want to do?” he asks quietly. 

“Oh! Can you open your presents, or do you have to wait? If you can open some of your presents, we could–it has to be a surprise, so I can’t say what, but we could–do something!” Midoriya says, bouncing in place. 

Shouto looks up at Touya, tilting his head in question. 

“Presents first, I guess,” he says, shrugging. “Who cares what order these things are supposed to go in.” 

“Yes!” Midoriya says, grinning. He leaps up from his spot, scrambling off to go grab a box. 

“Oi, nerd, he has to open ours together!” Bakugo barks, getting up to grab his as well. He shoves him as they run past each other, grabbing for their bags at the same time. They pull out two boxes, one shoddily wrapped and one perfectly wrapped, and then stagger back over, both trying to shove each other out of the way, and slam the boxes on the table. There’s a long moment of silence. 

The wrapping paper is All Might themed. 

Shouto stares at it, eyes slightly wide, for a long moment, and then–starts laughing. 

Fuyumi covers her mouth, small little giggles bursting out, too. Natsuo bursts into full belly laughter, doubling over, and Touya loses it, cackling, holding onto Keigo for support. 

“... Is–The fuck is so funny? You haven’t even opened the damn thing yet,” Bakugo says, baffled. 

“It’s–It’s All Might,” Shouto says helplessly, waving his hands at the presents in between his little huffs of laughter; he never laughs loudly, it’s just–muted little huffs. 

“God, imagine the look on his face,” Natsuo howls. 

“He’d burn the goddamn house down,” Touya gasps, cackling. 

“I am here–at your birthday party!” Fuyumi wheezes. 

That brings on another round of hysteria, and Touya’s on the ground. “Oh, fuck,” he cackles. 

“... Do you think they’re okay?” Tenya asks. 

“No. They’re all goddamn insane,” Bakugo answers immediately. 

“There’s–gotta be an inside joke we’re missing,” Midoriya muses, looking at them. He’s watching Shouto, looking almost–fond, somewhere under the mild concern. 

Touya wipes at his eyes, catching his breath, and realizes that Keigo sat down next to him at some point, leaning over to look at him more closely. He grins up at him. “I needed that. That was hilarious,” he says. 

“Apparently,” Keigo says, amused. 

Shouto huffs a breath, taking the present closer to himself reverently. “Thank you, Midoryia. Bakugo,” he says. 

“Gonna tell us what the hell that was?” Bakugo asks. 

“No,” Shouto says easily, tugging at the wrapping paper. 

Midoriya laughs. “Okay,” he says, bemused. 

There’s a pause as he blinks at the unwrapped box. “... Is this a Switch?” he asks blankly. 

Touya jerks in surprise. “Jesus, kid. That’s expensive. You sure–” 

Bakugo jerks his chin up. “You don’t have one, and I wanted to play Mario Kart while I was over here,” he says irritably. They don’t have any gaming systems–they’re all expensive. All they have is a TV that lets them have access to streaming service and a few of those, really, because, well, he wants Shouto to have something, but Shouto’s never really shown interest in games or TV anyway. Should he have saved up and gotten gaming systems, too? Shit. Maybe he’s failing as the Cool Kid’s House after all. 

“Open mine!” Midoriya says quickly. 

Shouto moves over robotically, opening the slimmer, less well-wrapped box. “Ah. That would be Mario Kart.” 

“And a few other games! I got you some that I thought you’d like,” he says eagerly. “You seem like an Animal Crossing kind of guy? And Hollow Knight seemed up your alley, maybe–I don’t know, the vibes seemed right. But if you play Animal Crossing we can visit each other’s islands,” he says, bouncing. “Kacchan has an island, too, but he doesn’t let anyone come visit it–” 

“Because you steal all of my goddamn apples and then leave, Deku,” he growls. 

“I plant all of my crossbred flowers! It’s an even exchange, Kacchan!” 

“In what goddamn world–” 

“Thank you,” Shouto murmurs reverently, staring at the wrapping paper. Touya thinks he might like it more than the gift itself. 

Touya leans over, taking the paper. He’s close enough to murmur, “I’ll set it aside so it doesn’t get crumpled.” 

Shouto shoots him a grateful look as he walks off with it. He hears footsteps behind him, but they’re Keigo’s, so he doesn’t mind. He walks into his own room, smoothing the paper out and setting it on his dresser to give back to Shouto later. Keigo smiles at him, watching him curiously. 

“He’s going to keep it, then?” he asks in a murmur. 

Touya nods. “I’ll explain later,” he says, waving a hand.

Keigo hums. He steps into the bedroom, pulling the door shut. He quickly strides forward, taking Touya’s face in his hands, pulling him into a kiss that leaves him breathless. He holds onto Keigo’s shoulders, closing his eyes. It’s over just as quickly. 

“... Sorry. Just… Loved seeing you laugh like that,” Keigo says breathlessly. “Couldn’t resist.”

Touya blinks, staring at him. Jesus. Keigo makes it–hard. Not to… be madly, hopelessly in love. Not to just lose his head completely. 

He seizes the front of his shirt, dragging him back in for a second kiss, a longer one. It’s not–heated. There’s no wild passion, gasping and biting. It’s just– warm. He sighs, resting his forehead against Keigo’s for a few minutes. He can hear them arguing about how to set up the Switch, and then the conversation turns into how to set up the course as he basks in the warmth. “... We should go back out,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah,” Keigo replies quietly, staring at him like he’s memorizing his face. “... Yeah,” he mumbles. 

Touya abruptly turns and walks back out, taking a shaky breath. 

Shouto is sitting on the couch in between Bakugo and Midoriya, holding a switch controller. Bakugo is leaning into his space, one hand braced on the couch behind him. 

“C’mon, Icyhot! Go, go, go!” he’s yelling. 

“Midoriya!” Tenya shouts, chopping the air. “It is not honorable, but–you have the shell! Use the shell! The shell!” 

Shouto’s face is pink, and Touya is absolutely positive it has everything to do with Midoriya elbowing him playfully just so Shouto can elbow him back. 

“Oi! Oi! No cheating, Deku! Stay on your cushion with Robot Arms!” he barks. “Icyhot is going to beat your ass fair and square–shit, dodge, Halfie, shell!” 

Touya leans against the door frame, smiling. 

Keigo steps beside him, laughing quietly. “... They’re really comfortable here,” he murmurs. 

“Yeah,” he says fondly. “Endeavor’s house was nothing like this.” 

Keigo puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles into it. “I’m really proud of you,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s barely thinking about it.

Touya stiffens. “... What?” he whispers. 

“I’m–” Keigo pauses, voice uncertain. “I’m really proud of you,” he says again. “You worked hard. To make this happen. To make this place a place where Shouto could be safe and happy. Where he could have friends. Where Fuyumi could be a teacher. Where Natsuo could go to college. So I’m just–”

“Don’t,” he gasps, turning toward him, burying his face in his shoulder, suddenly aware that his eyes are damp and stinging with tears. “Don’t say it again, I–I can’t take it,” he whispers. “No one’s ever–fuck.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m–Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. Okay.” He wraps his arms around him, holding him close, and pulls him back into the room, shutting the door again so he can fall apart for just a moment. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, gripping the hem of Keigo’s shirt for a long moment until he catches the strands of his self control again. 

“... Okay. Alright. I’m fine. Sorry,” he mumbles. He pulls away, dashing his hands across his face, wiping away the tears. “Sorry.” 

“No, Touya, you don’t have to be–sorry,” Keigo murmurs. He reaches up, wiping away some stray tears. “It’s okay.” 

He nods quickly. “I–We should see if Fuyumi needs help. With dinner,” he murmurs. 

Keigo nods, following him back out into the living room. 

Shouto looks up. “Touya,” he calls. 

Touya glances over. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“I won,” he says, smiling slightly, “at video games. ” 

Midoriya groans. “Do you have to brag to everyone, Shou?” he asks, dropping his head back on the couch. “It was close! I was literally like two centimeters behind you!” 

“Might as well have been a mile, nerd!” Bakugo crows. 

Touya laughs. “Good job, kid.” He gives a mischievous little smirk to Midoriya. “Not bad for your first time playing video games… you know, ever.” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“... Wait, what?!” Bakugo, Tenya, and Midoriya shriek. 

Touya cackles, leaving Shouto to handle that chaos. 

“Thanks, Touya,” he says, huffing a laugh. 

Keigo laughs brightly, following him into the kitchen. Natuso, Fuyumi, and Tensei are in there. Tensei is holding a can of something, talking to Natsuo while Fuyumi stirs something in a pot, glancing at something sizzling in a pan.

“What’s on the menu for tonight?” Touya asks. His stomach roils briefly at what’s in the pan–definitely cooking pork. He pushes his hand in front of his nose, grimacing. 

“Ah, sorry, Touya. Forgot to warn you,” Fuyumi says apologetically. “Shou requested katsudon and soba.” 

“Gah. It’s fine,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna open the windows, though,” he says, leaning over the sink to push the windows open. He walks quickly across the living room and pushes the door open, too, then over to the other window in the living room, pushing that one open as well. 

“Ah, shit, cold,” Bakugo complains. 

“Sorry,” Shouto says. “You can borrow a hoodie if you want. Touya’s sensitive to smells.” 

“I’m not sorry. You brats like weird meat,” Touya says, leaning over the couch to grind his fist into Bakugo’s hair. Bakugo growls, hands popping with explosions. 

“Get the hell off me, edgelord!” he growls. 

“Don’t explode my couch, poprocks!” he barks back, cackling. “You break it, you buy it!” 

“Like I’d buy this shitty couch!” Bakugo snarks back. 

“Shouto, did you get yourself a sugar daddy when I wasn’t looking? He gonna buy you a better couch than I can?” Shouto turns bright pink, and Bakugo turns even brighter red. 

“The fuck kind of–I’m not–You didn’t–” His hands pop loudly.

Touya cackles again, walking back into the kitchen. The smell is less overwhelming with the windows and door open. He ducks into the fridge, looking over the options with a furrowed brow.

“Hawks, do you want something?” he asks over his shoulder. 

“What’ve you got?” Keigo asks, leaning in to look. 

“Strawberry, melon, orange… The fuck is this? Is this cinnamon chili? Why is cinnamon chili a drink flavor?”

“Bakugo likes it, apparently,” Fuyumi answers, amused. 

Natsuo snorts. “Yeah, that tracks.” 

Tensei laughs. “It’s not like… the worst, actually,” he says. “I tried it. I was curious. It’s like red hots, if red hots hated you.” 

“... Anyway,” Touya says slowly. “Lime… Why do we have so many options? We don’t even like soda that much, like as a household.” 

“That’s our fault. I sent Tenya with a card and a request to ‘get drinks.’ I think he panicked,” Tensei answers. 

Touya snorts. “Yeah, alright, fair. I probably would’ve done the same.” He grabs a melon soda.

“Close your eyes and pick one. Surprise me.” 

Touya closes his eyes, snagging one at random, and hands him back one. 

“Is this–bubblegum?” Keigo asks, bemused. 

“You said pick one,” Touya says, amused. He unwraps the plastic, clicking off the plastic ring. He pops in the marble press, holding it for a few seconds. He pops it back out, then holds out his drink to tap against Keigo’s. Keigo repeats the action, tapping his against Touya’s, then takes a drink. 

“Ah. That’s vile,” he says, grinning. He takes another drink. “... Really, really bad.” 

“Trade me,” Touya says, holding out his drink. Keigo swaps, and Touya takes a sip. 

“Oh, god. Yeah, that’s really bad. Absolutely disgusting,” he agrees. He takes another drink. “Gets worse actually the second time around.” He grimaces. 

“Why did you both go back for a second drink?” Natsuo asks, cackling. 

“Like, the first one was bad, let’s see if it’s still bad,” Fuyumi says, laughing. 

“You have to make sure. Like, maybe it grows on you,” Keigo says. 

“Has it ever actually grown on you after the second sip?” Tensei asks curiously.

“Literally never,” Touya answers immediately. 

“Not once,” Keigo agrees. 

“But what if it does,” Touya says. 

Keigo laughs, leaning against him easily, and Touya–lets him, looking away. He takes a sip from the drink in his hand without thinking, grimacing at the wash of off-bubblegum flavor. “Guh. Take this away from me,” he grimaces, handing it off to Tensei. He turns back to the fridge, grabbing a different soda. 

“Dinner’s just about ready. Do you want to get everyone together?” Fuyumi asks. 

Touya nods, leaning out into the living room. “Yo! Shouto and Shouto accessories! Get to the table or starve!” he calls. 

“... I could’ve done that,” Fuyumi says conversationally to Tensei. 

“You didn’t have to, though,” Tensei points out. “I think that’s half the point of brothers.” 

“Hah? Shouto accessories? I ain’t someone’s accessory, you fiery fuck!” Bakugo growls, stomping toward the table. Touya snickers, sitting down at the table. Keigo sits down next to him, crowding in close, tucking his wings in to keep space.

Dinner goes–well, Touya thinks. The katsudon stays on the other end of the table, and he eats soba with a side of vegetables, ribbing Keigo and picking on Shouto and his friends from across the table. He’s vaguely aware, after a little while, that Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shouto are–watching him. They seem to be tracking the way he leans into Keigo, or the way Keigo pulls food onto his plate, leaning into his space to murmur something to him and the way Touya doesn’t immediately move away. 

After dinner, Fuyumi brings out the cake. It’s strawberry, with strawberries and blackberries piled on one corner, and “Happy Birthday, Shou!” written on it in a fancy script in blue. Touya puts in fifteen candles, then clicks his fingers, lighting each one with a small blue flame. 

“Alright, kid. You’re supposed to make a wish before you blow them out. Don’t just blow them out because you panicked,” he says, eyes narrowed. 

“One time,” Shouto says, looking pained. “One time, when I was eleven. ” 

“And you’ll never live it down!” Natsuo crows, scrubbing his hand into his hair. “Alright, one, two, one-two-three! Happy Birthday tooo youuuu!” 

Bakugo resolutely does not sing, and neither does Touya, but everyone else does, loudly. Touya grins, and Shouto has a pleased little smile, so it’s worth it. Once they finish, he takes a moment, glancing between Midoriya and Bakugo, then closes his eyes and blows out the candles. Touya has an idea of what he wished for. He leans his chin on his fist, watching them interact. Fuyumi and Tensei set to work cutting the cake and doling it out. Touya passes on his, but Keigo takes one. 

“Not a fan of sweets?” he asks. 

“Mmm. Not particularly,” he mumbles. “We never had any when we were younger. Natsuo and Shou go hog wild for them now–something about it being forbidden makes them want sweets ten times more, I guess. Since we never had them, Fuyumi and I think they’re just–too sweet, though.” He wiggles his soda. “Honestly, this is pushing it. We probably just went too long without to make a change,” he says, huffing a small laugh. 

“Fair.” 

Touya hums, closing his eyes, waiting until the clinking of plates fades away. “Alright, Shou. Ready for the rest of your presents?” he asks, once they’re done with cake. 

“Oh. There’s more?” he asks, blinking. 

“Yep,” he says, grinning. 

Natsuo grins. “You’ll like it.” 

Fuyumi rolls her eyes. “One of them is bad coping mechanisms,” she mutters. 

Shouto perks up. “Can I have that one last?” he asks, which means he’s the most excited for it. 

“That’s the plan, little man,” Touya says. “It was my idea. Here’s your first one, from me and ‘Yumi.” He grabs a bag, sliding it across the table. 

Shouto takes it, pulling it open, staring into it intently for a long moment. He pulls out a small stack of books, flipping them over to look at the covers with a blank expression, turning them over carefully to look at the spines of each. 

“... Thank you,” he murmurs, running his finger down the spines. “These are the next ones in the series I was reading.” 

“I know,” Fuyumi says brightly. “They’re the same cover and material, right? I checked, but I want to make sure.” 

“They are, yes,” he says, nodding. “They’ll fit on my shelf.” Touya grins. That’s basically a ringing endorsement from Shouto. He carefully sets them back in the bag, then sets them aside, glancing back up with a curious stare. 

Natsuo leans forward, setting a box on the table. “Mine and ‘Yumi’s next,” he says. “S’more practical than anything.” 

“Practical,” Shouto repeats, staring at it thoughtfully. He unwraps the present, picking at the tape then sliding the box out. 

“Wish I thought about All Might wrapping paper,” Natsuo mutters, and there’s a moment of snickering. 

“Don’t start that shit again, I don’t want catatonic Todorokis all over the place again,” Bakugo grumbles. 

Shouto huffs a laugh that cuts off immediately as he opens the box. He stares at it, leaning forward to look at it more closely. “Is this–we talked about it, but you said–how did you?” he asks, lifting a flat piece of metal out of the box. 

“So, Tensei knows a guy?” he starts nervously. “It’s–I had all of the plans, and I knew how it would work in theory, you know?” He bites his lip. “But–there’s–you know, a mechanical element, and a parts component, and–well–” 

Touya leans forward curiously. “What is it?” he asks. Natsuo had been really cagey about his present. 

“It’s–a backplate,” Shouto explains. “It’ll vent the frost and the heat from my Quirk, so I can use it for longer.” 

“I was working with a classmate on it, when I was working on something for your–you know, Touya, but I sort of stumbled on that, and it was a good idea, and I thought he could submit it with his costume allowance when he goes to UA,” he says nervously. “Then Tensei just–sort of–had a friend who wanted to make a trial run, so–here it is!” 

“Thank you,” he says, looking up at them. “Really.” 

Tensei smiles. “Of course! Anything for young heroes in training!” he says. 

Natsuo smiles. “‘Course, Shou.” 

Touya tosses another bag at his face, which Shouto catches. “This one is just from me,” he says, flopping back against Keigo’s shoulder. 

Shouto digs through the bag, pulling out a Motley Crue tank top. He blinks, staring at it in silence for a long moment. “Thank you, Touya.” 

Fuck, I have no idea if he likes it.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, grinning. 

“Do you like Motley Crue?” Bakugo asks, sounding absolutely baffled. 

“I like this shirt,” Shouto answers. “Hold on, I’ll be right back,” he says, standing up. He trots away to the bathroom, vanishing into it. After a moment, he comes back in the shirt, arms bare, looking vaguely pleased, and drops back down in front of the table. 

“I would’ve never thought you’d like rock music, Shou!” Midoirya says. 

Shouto hums. 

He’s totally doing this on purpose. Touya narrows his eyes at him, and Shouto smiles back at him, a slight twitch of the lips that says he’ll literally never tell him one way or the other. Touya gives him a serene smile back that says he’s going to get a different glam rock shirt every birthday for the rest of his natural born life. Shouto’s slight head tilt says that’s completely fine, so he guesses this is his life now. 

“Aren’t you cold in that tank top?” Tenya asks, waving his hand. 

“My Quirk lets me stay pretty warm. I believe I was promised an unhealthy coping mechanism?” he asks, holding out his hands expectantly. 

“I got it for free. I spent absolutely no money on this,” Touya prefaces. He pulls up a plastic bag, digging out an Endeavor merch shirt, and tosses it into Shouto’s waiting hands. “Want to ceremoniously burn it?” he asks, grinning. 

Shouto stares at it for a long moment, then a smile curls at his lips. “... Absolutely. Bakugo, will you explode it for me?” he asks, looking up at him, looking thrilled at the idea. 

“... Uh… sure. We gonna… go outside or…” 

“Nope. Just blast the fucker and don’t break my kitchen table,” Touya says, smirking. “The neighbors are used to noise.” 

“I feel like they’re not?” Midoriya squeaks. 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice. Ready, Icyhot?” he asks. 

“Make sure to blow up his face,” Shouto instructs. 

Bakugo slaps his palms together over the shirt with a loud BOOM and a blast of fire, and the shirt catches. He quickly pats it out, snickering, then drops the charred remains at Shouto’s face, who leans forward to inspect the carnage with an actual grin. 

“... Perfect.” 

Midoriya picks it up, looking it over. “It’s pretty weak,” he notes. “Bet I could rip it the rest of the way,” he mumbles, testing it slightly. 

Shouto looks at him like he hung the moon. “Do it.” 

Midoriya then proceeds to rip the shirt right down the middle where Endeavor’s image is, presenting the halves back to him. 

“Fantastic. Best present so far,” he says, looking unduly pleased. 

“I literally gave you a goddamn Switch,” Bakugo grumbles. 

“You blew up a shirt for me,” Shouto counters. 

Keigo laughs. “Mine’s not super impressive,” he says, tossing an envelope on the table. 

Shouto leans forward, brows raised. “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d gotten me anything,” he says, surprised. 

“‘Course I did. Gotta get Babyroki something for his birthday,” he says, grinning. 

Shouto opens the envelope, pulling out a gaudy, glittery card that says ‘It’s a BOY’ that’s scratched out and replaced with ‘BIRTHDAY’. He opens it and a gift card falls out. 

“It’s for a soba stall nearby. They’ve got some pretty legendary cold soba,” he says. “Should be enough to cover you for uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “A while?” 

Touya glances at him sidelong. “How much did you put on that?” he mumbles. 

“I unno, like seventy-two thousand yen or so?” he mutters back. “She asked how much I wanted and I said ‘Just put whatever you think a teenage boy who really really loves soba would like’ and then she threw a number at me and I said ‘yeah sure’ and then I didn’t really think about it until later that that might be excessive,” he says in a panic when he realizes everyone is staring at him blankly. 

“... Do you want to get soba with me tomorrow?” he asks Midoriya and Bakugo, staring at the card like it holds all of the answers to life. 

“Jesus Christ, Birdie,” Touya says, laughing. He covers his mouth, looking away. “You’re ridiculous.”

Keigo grins back. With presents out of the way, everyone settles back in to play games, and Tenya and Tensei head out. Midoriya and Bakugo are staying the night, and Keigo seems reluctant to leave. Settling in to watch Midoriya, Bakugo, and Shouto fight each other in Mario Kart, Touya thinks that it was… probably a good day.

Chapter Text

It’s–weird. 

Walking into Hawks’ agency to report for work, the next day.

Keigo almost materializes at the door, grinning from ear to ear. “Comet! Hello!” he chirps, fluttering his wings, flitting in circles in the air around him. 

Touya stares at him blankly. “... Hello, Hawks,” he says, holding his bag with his backup costume and paperwork to put in his locker. 

“Comet!” Rhythmic yells, running over. “You’re working here, now?” 

Touya rubs the back of his neck. He forgot how loud everyone at Hawks’ agency was. “Yeah. Just transferred.” 

“I’m going to give him the grand tour! Go ahead and start your patrol, Rhythmic,” Hawks chirps, still flitting little excited circles around Touya. 

“Can you–stop with the zoomies? Christ, I’m getting dizzy,” he says, grabbing his wrist to pull him back down to the ground. Keigo stumbles, laughing. 

“Zoomies?” he asks. 

“You’re literally zooming in circles around me. Keep your feet on the floor, will you?” he grumbles. He glances up at the front desk, walking up to it. “Ah! Yokishita,” he greets, remembering her from the first few times he’s been here. “Do you ever go home? You’re always here when I’m here,” he says, frowning. 

She laughs. “I work a lot of hours. What do you need, Comet?” she asks, leaning forward with a grin. 

Touya pulls out some of the last transfer paperwork he’s supposed to submit, handing it over. “I give this to you, I think,” he says, passing it over. 

Yokishita flips through it. “Yep, that comes to me. Thanks! Hawks, I like this one, he’s efficient.” 

Keigo grins. “I know, right? I didn’t even have to tell him anything. He just knows what to do,” he says with a little sigh, pretending to swoon. 

“What did I say about feet on the ground?” he asks sternly, narrowing his eyes. 

“Sorry, sorry!” he chirps. 

He rolls his eyes. “Am I going to be able to patrol today, or do I have to do more paperwork?” he grumbles. 

Keigo winces. “Ah–neither? I’m afraid we’ve uh… got a meeting with Morioka first,” he says sheepishly. “Both of us.” 

“... What’s a Morioka.” 

“My PR manager?” he asks, wincing. 

“No, absolutely not.” 

“We kind of don’t have a choice?” Keigo asks, frowning. “You–uh–we–there’s–” 

“Ugh. Show me where your lockers are and explain on the way. I want to put this crap away,” he groans, rattling his bag. 

Keigo starts walking, pulling out his phone as he goes. “So, uh, you know the magazine kind of started the–thing that we’re dating, and people sort of ran with it. Then we had soba together. Then uh, I guess someone saw you coming to my apartment?” He winces. “And then–I guess someone saw me picking up Shouto’s cake? And realized that I was picking up Shouto Todoroki’s cake? So it’s–yeah, we’re meeting up to discuss that, because now you work at my agency,” he says, laughing uncertainly. 

Touya groans, tipping his head back. “I need people to care less about what I do in my spare time,” he says irritably. Keigo guides him down a side hallway past a number of sidekicks who watch them in awe. Touya levels them with an appraising look, placing their names to their faces in his mind. Apparently his gaze is unsettling, because half of them flush and look away immediately. He frowns, looking at Keigo. “I think I’m scaring your sidekicks,” he mutters. 

He snorts. “‘Scaring’ is not the term I’d use,” he says easily. He pushes open the door to the changing room. There are a few half-changed heroes inside, and Touya politely averts his eyes, following Keigo over to the far wall where the biggest lockers are. 

“Here ya go. You can have the one next to mine,” he says, patting locker number ‘2.’ 

Touya blinks at him. “... You probably shouldn’t show favoritism,” he points out blandly. 

“Considering I intend to make you my hero partner as quickly as possible, I very much intend to,” he says easily, tilting his head to the side. 

Touya leans back, surprised. “... Oh,” he says blankly. “I… Alright,” he says slowly. He turns to the locker, opens it, and shoves his bag inside. Keigo hands him a lock, and Touya clips it on, spinning it in place, then sets the lock to whatever numbers it spins to. 

“Did you just–set that to whatever?” Keigo asks, sounding delighted. 

“My passwords are key smashes, too,” he says, arching a brow. 

“Hackers hate him,” Keigo says reverently. 

He leads him back out to his PR manager’s office. Daichi Morioka is–confusingly attractive, actually. Touya blinks at him a few times as they sit down. He’s tall with eyes like amethysts and long black hair that’s half pulled back, twisted from his face with a hairstick. His clothes are an understated but fashionable business casual, a short sleeve button up and slacks, accentuating his slim build, showing off a line of what could be tattoos, vines with purple and pink flowers that ring his neck, wrists, and elbows. Touya can tell they’re not tattoos, though, after a second, because they seem to breathe as he moves, rustling gently with each shift, so it must be some aspect of his Quirk. 

Morioka smiles as they walk in. “Hello, hello! You two have made my life a living nightmare!” he greets, face perfectly pleasant. “I’m on my seventh energy drink of the day, and I think I’m in cardiac arrest!” 

Touya freezes, staring at him. “... What?” 

Keigo laughs. “You’re welcome!” he chirps. He flips a chair around, sitting down and setting his chin down on the backrest, grinning, and Touya sits down as well, uncomfortable. 

“... Sorry, I uh… haven’t met you,” he says uncertainly. 

“No, yeah, I know! I’m Morioka. You’re Todoroki, Comet, pain in my ass. Or his. Or he’s yours. I really don’t care, I don’t want details.” 

Keigo chokes, covering his face. “Morioka,” he wheezes. 

“Seven. Seven,” he stresses. “I’ve been fielding reporters all week. And last week. And the week before that. The cake was the straw, Hawks. You bought his goddamn brother a cake. You might as well have given him fellatio on the subway.” 

Touya makes a wounded noise. “Can we–can you–what are we meant to be discussing here?” he asks.

“Public statement. Are you dating, yes or no.” 

“I–really–I’m really not comfortable with–” Touya says, shifting. 

“We’re going to have to do a press conference regardless, but we need to do something about it at this point. We only had the additional time we had because of the villain attack, frankly,” he says, running a hand through his hair. 

“People dying really should be news for longer,” Touya mutters, looking away. 

Keigo nods, looking away. 

“Yeah, well, people don’t like sad. They like scandalous. Queer heroes are scandalous. Queer heroes dating in the same agency is scandalous,” Morioka says impatiently. “So. Formal statement. Are we going with that, or not?” 

Touya shrugs, looking at Keigo. “Is that what we’re going with, Birdie?” he asks, pulling up his leg to rest his chin on his knee. 

Keigo drops his chin on the chair back. “Up to you. I don’t care either way. You’re the one who will have to deal with the fallout from Endeavor,” he points out. 

Touya pauses, then smirks. “... That’s incentive to do it, you realize,” he says. “It will piss him off royally.” 

Morioka pauses, frowning. “... Are you two actually goddamn dating?” he asks, flicking his gaze between them. 

Touya hesitates, looking away at the same time Keigo does. 

“... Holy fuck. You’re kidding me. All of that, and you’re not even properly–you know what. No. I’m not paid enough. Are we doing this, or not?” he asks. 

“Sure,” Touya says impulsively. “Why not. It’ll be the easiest explanation.” 

Keigo turns to look at him, tilting his head. “The easiest explanation,” he parrots back. 

“For… you know,” he says, gesturing between them. There’s–something. Not dating. Not together. Not partners. But– something, surely. 

Keigo snorts. “... Yeah, alright,” he says fondly. “Why not.” 

“Great. I’ll set up the conference, but you’re both going to make curated posts on your social media today,” he says firmly. 

Touya frowns. “I don’t use my social media,” he says, raising his hand like he’s in school. 

“... Are you willing to give up your social media passwords and all control of them.” 

“God, please,” he mutters. “Can I still look at them if I don’t post on them ever?” 

“Yes.” 

“Sold. What do you need?” 

“Usernames and passwords for Facebook, Twitter, Bluesky, Instagram, Tumblr–” 

“I don’t know what half of that is,” Touya interrupts. “I have a Twitter. You can have that, and blanket permission to do whatever else you need to do with CometOfficial,” he mutters, reaching over to grab a pen and a pad of paper, scribbling out his username and twenty-character password. He hands it over, and Morioka stares at it. 

“... This password is nonsense.” 

“Yes.” 

“No, like, there’s actually nothing coherent here,” he says. 

“Correct.” 

“... Is it like a cipher?” he presses. 

“No.” 

“What’s the pneumonic?” he asks. 

“There’s not one. I smacked my hand on the keys six times, then I typed that in the password bar,” Touya says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we please just move on.” 

“I’m going to have to change this to something humans can type,” Morioka mutters. 

“Just let me know what you change it to,” he grumbles. 

Keigo snickers. “So, what’s the plan for the posts?” he asks. 

“We’re going to basically confirm it without confirming it to get a temp reading of what we can expect at the press conference tomorrow; you’ll like and repost a few of the magazine photos, and a few of the key comments, and we’ll gauge the reaction from a few key sources, and then we’ll hold the conference tomorrow morning,” he says. “Sooner the better.” 

“Alright,” Touya says, shrugging. “Sounds good, I guess.” 

“Based on how that goes, I’ll push a few opportunities your way. Comet, I took the liberty of linking our calendars. You should turn on notifications so they come to your phone. I’ll send invites to events you’ll need to attend,” he continues. 

“... Uh… My phone doesn’t do that,” he says blankly. “You could just tell me.” 

“What do you mean your phone doesn’t do that.” 

He pulls out his phone, holding it up. 

“Is that a fucking Nokia.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Touya says blandly. 

Morioka pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll send them to Hawks. Hawks will make sure you’re there. Hawks, you’re in charge of. That.” He gestures to Touya, who feels like he should probably be insulted. 

Keigo is bent over, mouth covered, trying not to wheeze with laughter.

“Get out of my office. Jesus.” Morioka runs his hands over his face, looking utterly done. 

“Gladly,” Touya says, standing up. “It’s been a pleasure. Come on, Hawks. Do we get to go on patrol yet?” he asks, because frankly he just wants out. Everyone in here is–really loud. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” Keigo says, amused. “I want to stretch my wings anyway. We can swap out with Aerial.” 

“Aerial,” he says, flipping through his mental lexicon. “They’re the one who can create the silk ribbons at will, right?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“Yeah!” Keigo nods quickly. “They’ve got a pretty good handle on it. It’s cool to watch them go once they get moving. Very Cirque du Soleil.” He passes by the front desk, leaning over it to grab two ear pieces. He offers one to Touya, who puts it in, fiddling with it for a moment to click it on so he can hear. 

“... just saying that if Hawks and Comet were dating, we’d probably know, right? Seems like it’d be obvious,” Vortex is saying. “Hawks is kind of, you know. Loud and proud about these things.” 

“I dunno! He’s pretty quiet about his personal life, you know?” Aerial argues. “Like, does he even have any siblings? I dunno! I’ve worked for the guy for a few years, couldn’t tell you. Don’t even know his name beyond Hawks! But I can tell you one thing for sure, he and Comet are definitely fucking.” 

“I’d like to remind you that comms are for emergencies, you two,” Gunhead chimes in, laughing. “... But yeah, if we’re taking bets. Definitely together.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Havoc agrees. 

“One hundred percent, yeah,” Manual chimes in. 

Touya glances at Keigo, who’s looking at him with a wide smirk. 

Touya smirks back, clicking on his mic audibly. “Ahem. Comet and Hawks, signing on for route four,” he says flatly, making sure his voice is perfectly deadpan and wildly unimpressed. He hears every single mic click off at once and has to click off his mic immediately so he can snort. 

“Come on, Birdie. Let’s go,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t you need the patrol route?” Keigo asks. 

Touya pauses, raising a brow at him. “No. No, I do not,” he says. 

“... Yeah, that was a stupid question.” 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hawks’ patrol route is–chaotic. It’s bigger, more sprawling, and goes through several larger intersections, rather than the smaller sections of town like Gunhead's does. In the six hours they patrol, Touya stops five muggings, a robbery, a purse snatching, and two fights. Hawks tallies out almost twice that on pure virtue of having a bird’s eye view, chattering in his earpiece the entire time. 

“The hell is wrong with your patrol route, Birdie?” he asks over the comms. “Gunhead never has this much trouble,” he snarks, dragging off a teen with a bull mutation Quirk. “Come on, it’s not that serious! You literally just said he stole your damn kit-kat. I’ll buy you one from the fucking vending machine if you stop trying to gore him,” he growls at the kid, digging his heels in. He hears a titter of laughter over the comms. 

“Joys of the middle city, hot stuff. Need some help?” he asks. 

“Jesus, please, I think I’m–fucking Christ, kid, no, it’s a chocolate bar, it’s not worth prison!” he yelps, sticking his foot out to shove the other kid away, pushing him back by his face, muffling the curses he’s yelling. The other kid has some kind of thorn Quirk, so he’s just–growing thorns on his skin, making touching him a bad idea. “Can you stop? Christ, you’re worse than all of my kids.” 

“Awww, I’m telling your siblings you called them your kids,” Keigo coos, just a moment before feathers appear, pulling the kids apart. 

Touya huffs. He stalks over to the vending machines nearby, shoving some bills into it so he can buy a kit-kat. He grabs it out of the bottom, then stalks back over, slamming it into the kid’s hand. “There! Stop trying to commit murder, holy shit. If you start fighting again, I’m going to roast you both,” he says irritably. 

“... Sorry, Mr. Comet,” the kid says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sorry, Mr. Comet,” the thorn kid agrees. 

“Don’t be sorry, be better,” Touya chides. He grinds the palms of his hands into their hair, stalking off along his patrol route. 

“That was so cute,” Havoc coos. 

“Wasn’t it? He’s so good with kids,” Keigo says fondly. 

“I kicked one of them in the face,” Touya feels compelled to point out. 

“It was more of a strategic push. With your foot on his face,” Keigo says, cackling. 

“I didn’t know you had siblings, Comet,” Vortex says. “Well, I mean, I knew you had them, but I didn’t know you were close. Everyone knows Endeavor has a bunch of kids.” 

There’s a pause. No one talks about the fact that Touya is Endeavor’s kid–not anymore. He shut that down hard early on, so now no one really–approaches it. Maybe it’s just that he’s… more open today, calmer, talking with Keigo over the comms that makes Vortex more bold. 

Touya hums, buying himself time to think as he scans the area, walking along his route. “I am, yes. Closer to them than anyone. We live together. Probably will until my youngest brother graduates.” 

“Ooh. He’s going to UA, isn’t he?” Havoc asks, sounding eager. 

“That’s the plan,” he says. His brow furrows, watching a woman walk with a purpose that catches his eye. She’s unassuming, so he’s not sure what catches his eye at first. Her hair is pulled back into a long black pony-tail, and she’s short, nearly lost in the crowd. She turns, and he sees a nearly-healed, barely-there burn scar curling around the edge of her jaw. She leans over, looking at a stall, picking up a flower. She tilts her head, like she’s appraising it. The flower is orange, vibrant. She picks up a few of them, then looks up to the merchant, and says something. His eyes glaze over briefly, then he nods, smiling, and she walks away without paying, holding the flowers.

Touya draws in a sharp breath, following her. “I think I see Crush,” he whispers. 

“What?” Keigo says. 

“One o’ clock, pony tail, holding orange flowers,” he says smoothly, following her through the crowd easily. He keeps his face neutral, his gaze roving around like he’s still on a routine patrol. “Give me a better look. Take a look at her eyes for me. Am I right?” 

“Shit. Yeah. That’s her. How do we want to play this?” 

“There’s too many civilians for a clean capture,” Touya says thoughtfully. “Keep an eye on her. I want to see where she goes.” 

“I’m sending you a feather. Put it somewhere safe. I’m going to keep watch from above, but just in case,” Keigo says. He feels a feather brush into his palm, a small, delicate one. A primary covert feather, maybe, or a scapular. He tugs away the neck of his costume, tucking the feather there, against his pulse. He hears a sharp intake of breath over the comms, and smirks. 

“Problem?” he asks, eyes focused on Crush as she walks. 

“Nope!” Keigo chirps, voice perfectly smooth. He can hear the heat roiling underneath it only because he’s attuned to it now, looking for it. 

Crush pauses outside of a cafe, settling down into a chair at their outdoor seating. Touya walks past without paying her any attention, then pauses, tipping his head like his comms have gone off. He sighs, pulling out his phone, and leans against the road sign, half turned so he can see her without actually turning to her.  

He sees a girl in a beanie sit down across from her, a strand of bright orange hair hanging down from it. 

“That’s Chell,” he confirms. 

“Aww, they’re on a little villain date! How cute!” Keigo chirps, voice tense. “We need to bring them in, Comet.” 

“I’m going to need backup, and you’re going to need to get everyone away, fast, if we’re going to try it. Their Quirks are too unpredictable,” he says, frustrated. “It would probably be a better idea to watch and wait, see if we can find their base.” 

“No go. They’ll just portal out. Probably a better idea to try a capture now. Give me just a second to coordinate. Listen in and get what info you can–I’m going to coordinate on another channel for a second,” Keigo says quickly. There’s a click. 

Touya narrows his eyes, annoyed. He opens his text thread with his siblings, so he can look like he’s texting. And because he’s ever the multitasker, he does actually text them. 

Factually The Best Siblings

Touya - 16:23
You all should know that Hawks and I will be doing a press conference tomorrow morning to confirm that we’re dating.
We’re not actually dating. 

Shou - 16:25
That’s… confusing.

Touya - 16:26
I’ll explain later, I just figured I should let you know that it’s going to be a thing.

‘Tsuo - 16:26
the fuck do you mean you’re not actually dating? yes you are?
you two were practically in each other’s laps during shou’s birthday party 

Touya - 16:26
No, we weren’t.

Shou - 16:27
Yes, you were.
Bakugo said it was ‘fucking gross watching them try to make baby birds’ and Midoriya said it was ‘really cute.’ 

Touya flicks his gaze back up to the two at the table. Crush is holding Chell’s hand, leaning forward with a small frown. Chell is waving, looking–irritated by something, almost like she’s arguing. 

“Whatever we’re doing, we need to do it now. Looks like there’s trouble in paradise, and I don’t want to see the collateral damage of a lover’s spat between these two,” he murmurs. Touya starts to move a little closer, under the guise of checking something on a stall nearby. He can hear the edge of what Chell is saying now, only because her voice is raising. 

“It doesn’t matter what he promises! He’s not–he’s just a random guy, Sayuri! We can’t just trust him because he’s charming. I thought you were smarter than this!” she’s snapping. 

“You’re being unreasonable. I am not trusting anyone. I’m utilizing an asset,” Crush replies flatly. “Sit down. And don’t use that name so freely.” 

“What, he can, but I can’t? I’ve known you since we were children!” she yells. 

“There is a time and a place, Chell,” Crush says firmly. She stands up, leaning forward. “There are heroes around.”

Chell leans back, gritting her teeth. “And?” 

“And you could ruin everything we’ve worked for,” Crush grits out. 

“Okay, got it, Havoc, Vortex, and Aerial are at either end of the street. Ready, Comet?” Keigo bursts in through his comms, making him startle slightly. 

“Ready,” he murmurs. 

“One, two… Go!” 

The plan is immediately clear. Feathers burst from all directions as civilians are whisked away in all directions, quickly moved out of the fray. Various colored silks bar off the ends of the road, creating a barrier, and others pull the remaining civilians away. Touya yanks out his earpiece, popping in the earplugs he’d grabbed on a whim, and darts across the road at full speed, eyes sharp and looking out for portals. He can’t hear it when Crush yells something at him, and he doesn’t feel the command take hold. He breathes a sigh of relief, grinning at her as he shoves off the ground, swinging his body around to kick her in the face with a small flare of Blueflame. 

As he lands, he sees portals start to appear, blue and orange, some on the ground, some beside him, some behind him. It’s a minefield. If he falls into one, or gets shoved into one, there’s no telling where he’ll end up. 

Touya looks around quickly–no one else is in the fray yet, so he throws out his hand, flaring fire at Chell. She opens a portal directly in front of her, and another behind him, forcing him to duck as his own fire roars back at him. He rolls away, cursing as he falls into one portal and out of another one, falling up somehow from a portal that’s on the ground behind Chell. He’s faintly nauseated as it spits him out upwards onto the ground, disorienting him for a moment. 

She turns, and he can see that she’s laughing at him as she rears back, kicking him in the side. He grabs her ankle, flaring the fire in his hand. Her mirth twists to agony, and she jerks back, stamping down on his hand. It hurts, but he’s had worse. 

Havoc appears–that’s better. He turns to her in relief, but the relief vanishes when he realizes that her eyes are blank. Shit. She wasn’t fast enough with the earplugs, apparently. 

Havoc leans down, gripping the front of his shirt and lifts him up, reaching out to pluck the earplugs out of his ears and toss them aside. Sound rushes back in, and he stares at her. 

“... Ah, shit,” he mutters. 

“Comet,” Crush says, sounding amused, despite the slightly thick voice she has from being kicked in the face. “You’re interrupting. You’re a nuisance.” 

“I’ve heard that before,” he replies blandly, struggling against Havoc’s grip. She’s strong, fuck. She’s got twice as much muscle as he does–she has to, with her Quirk, and he’s never been one to strength train the way she does. 

Touya looks up toward the sky, trying to figure out where Keigo is. He looks down the street desperately, trying to figure out where Vortex is. He does find her, frozen stock-still, eyes glazed, earplugs in hand. 

“So, who’s the new boytoy that’s making your girlfriend jealous?” he asks, jerking his chin toward Chell, wondering if he can irritate his way out of this. 

Crush’s jaw ticks. 

Chell’s face turns to ice. “We could bring him back to Tenko,” Chell suggests. “He’s been wanting to play with this one.” 

“As fun as that would be, I’d rather just kill him. I don’t want to listen to him scream for that long,” she mutters. 

“Ugh. True. That would not be good ambiance for my video games,” Chell says. 

“Why don’t you–tell me what you want?” he tries quickly. “If you’re going to kill me anyway?” 

Crush laughs, low and melodic. “Because I don’t monologue, Comet. And I don’t really care if you know what I want or not. Havoc, kill him.” 

Havoc lifts him up a little bit higher, then discharges her Quirk. His vision fills with green for a moment, and then everything goes dark. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Keigo is tangled up with Aerial when he feels the feather that’s against Touya’s neck snap. 

Keigo managed to get his earplugs in; they’d discussed using them, but he hadn’t thought to remind everyone before they started. Thoughtless. Stupid. Aerial had been caught in the initial shout that caught them unaware, and now was doing everything they could to stop him from getting to Touya. Touya, whom he couldn’t see, but could feel through the feather against his neck, could feel the rapidly thrumming pulse, could make out the speech of based on the vibrations. 

“Why don’t you–tell me what you want? If you’re going to kill me anyway?”

Why did he say that? What prompted that? Is Crush threatening to kill him? He’s being pinned somewhere, he can feel the pressure against the feather, can feel the fingers around it, the thrumming of Touya’s pulse. 

“Aerial, snap out of it!” he shrieks, slicing through the silks the other hero is shooting from their palms, multi-colored eyes blank, lips slack. More appear, bundling him again, snapping his wings back together before he can loose any. He lets out a frustrated shriek, slicing it away again. He needs to go, needs to get to Touya, but he can’t hurt another hero–if he could just knock them out, or if he had Touya to burn away the silks–

There’s a familiar BOOM of Havoc’s Quirk, and he feels the feather snap. 

He can’t feel Touya anymore–there’s no sensation, nothing, nothing, nothing. 

Keigo bursts out of silks, manually ripping out one of the lengthy primary feathers out like a sword. He’s moving faster than he ever has, spinning in an arc, kicking Aerial across the temple, knocking them out (he hopes, but he doesn’t stay to check). Everything blurs as he flits across the street. Havoc is blinking, confused. Chell takes Crush’s hand, pulling her toward a portal, and Keigo makes a noise he’s never made before, so loud that he can hear it even through the earplugs in his ears. 

“Keeeeee-eeeeeeeee–ar!” It’s entirely inhuman, a screech, if he had to put a word to it, and he slices across Crush’s back as he flits past. She falls forward into Chell, gripping her, wide-eyed, shouting something that he can’t hear, doesn’t care to hear. He’s not looking at her anymore, he’s trying to find Touya–where is he? Where? 

There. He’s slumped against the wall of a shop, the brickwork cracked with the force, blood dripping from his head. Keigo flicks his gaze back for a second, watching Chell drag Crush into a portal, hands pressing against her back frantically, yelling into the portal–presumably for someone to come help her. The portal snaps shut. Havoc stares at Touya, sinking down to her knees, confused. 

Keigo’s at his side in a second, ripping out his ear plugs, putting in his comms, clicking them on. 

“--answer me! What’s going on?” Gunhead snaps. 

“Medics, now,” Keigo snaps. “Comet’s down, head wound at the very least. Aerial is down, too.” He leans forward. “Come on, Touya, look at me,” he says, trying to appraise him. His arm is definitely broken, splayed at an odd angle, and the blood coming from his head wound is soaking his hair, dripping down his neck. His long legs are out in front of him, splayed like doll’s legs. They don’t look–broken at least, even if the rest of him does. “Come on, Touya. Come on, need you to wake up,” he says, very softly touching his cheek. He rips off his glove, resting his fingers under his nose, feeling for breath. After a moment, he lets out a shaky gasp. “Fuck. Okay. He’s breathing still.” 

“I don’t… I don’t know what happened,” Havoc whispers in the comms. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Not important right now, Havoc. Get to work on Aerial and directing medics,” Keigo snaps back. “Are you injured?” 

“No.” 

“Good. Get to work, then.” He leans forward closer to look at Touya, watching his chest rise and fall, stuttering, rattling breaths. He brushes the blood away from his face. “Come on, Touya, look at me, please,” he whispers. “Come on.” 

“Medic!” someone shouts. “Someone needed a medic!” 

“Here!” Keigo shouts. 

He sends over a few feathers, scooping up the medics and their supplies, zipping them over quickly. He recognizes one of them as the pink-haired medic from the Trigger scene. What was his name? Kage? Kuge? 

“Comet’s down! He got thrown into a building. I haven’t moved him,” he barks, pointing. The pink-haired medic nods once, pulling his long hair back into a bun quickly, running toward Touya. He drops to his knees quickly, looking him over, lifting an eyelid to look at his pupils. 

“Alright, I’m going to do a quick Quirk heal, Manabe–then we can load him up. I’m worried about his spine from that hit, and I don’t want to risk destabilizing him in motion,” he says to his black-haired partner. 

“Got it.” 

“Is he okay?” Keigo asks, flitting around them nervously. 

“Give us some room, Hawks,” Kage-Kuge-Karage says. “He’s alive, and we can work with that.” He puts his hands on Touya’s chest, and Keigo has to stop himself from growling at that. His hands glow a soft pink, and he hears a snap and a crack as Touya’s arm resets itself, then something in his chest adjusts in a way that makes Keigo wince. 

“The hell was that?” he asks tersely. 

“That was his arm and rib,” Kage-Kuge-Karage-Koga answers easily. There are four more crack s in rapid successions. “And that is his sternum, his other rib, and his collarbone in two separate places. Do you want me to keep going, or can I just do this?” he asks sharply. 

“Keep going,” Keigo answers sharply. “I want to know everything that’s wrong.” 

Kage-Kuge-Karage-Koga-Kupa huffs a sigh. “This is going to be the loudest. Scapula and one part of his spine, then we’re getting to the ambulance.” CRACK. CRrrRACK. 

Keigo hisses audibly, but it’s nearly drowned out by a low keen from Touya as his eyes open, hazy and confused. 

“... Th’fuck?” he mumbles. 

“Hey, Comet! We’ve got to stop meeting like this! Can you tell me where you are?” Kage-Kuge-Karage-Koga-Kupa-Kovu asks. 

“... Kus’kabe?” he asks, blinking at him. “Why’re you here?” 

Kusakabe, that’s it. That’s what it was. He hates that Touya recognizes him immediately. 

“You got a little banged up, kid.” Kid? Kusakabe is definitely the kid here. How old even is he? 

“Ngh. M’ fine. Don’t need t’waste your Quirk ‘n me,” he mumbles, eyes already half sliding closed. 

"Definitely do!" he chirps back lightly. "Come on, Comet, need you to tell me where you are." 

"... Japan," Touya mumbles.

“I’m going with you,” Keigo says firmly, terrified. Touya always knows where he is. He always knows what street he's on, what shop he's in front of, and half the time he knows who owns it. Touya's eyes slip shut again/ 

“Sure, whatever,” Kusakabe says tersely, looking over at Manabe. "Come on, we need to get him in the truck, now."

Manabe’s been setting up the other equipment for transport while Kusakabe worked, so it’s ready. Together, they carefully move Touya onto the stretcher, lifting him up, and Keigo follows closely behind, listening to them talk. 

“Which villain even got him?” Kusakabe asks curiously. 

Keigo raises a brow, eyeing him. “Do you always ask about missions?”

He loads Touya into the ambulance, and Keigo follows him in. Manabe moves to the front of the ambulance, dropping into the driver’s seat while Kusakabe gets to work with Touya, pulling off his glove to run an IV line into his hand, hooking up a few different sensors. “Yep,” he replies easily. “I’m a curious guy, you know?” he asks. 

“Probably shouldn’t be,” Keigo replies coolly. 

Touya makes a small choking noise. He blinks, looking dazed. “Kei?” 

Kusakabe leans forward. “Yeah, I’m here,” he says easily, and Keigo realizes that Kusakabe thinks Touya meant K for Kusakabe, not Kei for Keigo. For the best, but–infuriating. “You’re all hooked up, Comet, we’re getting you healed up, okay?” 

Touya stares at him, brow furrowed, then shakes his head. “Hawks?” he tries. 

“I’m here, Touya,” Keigo says, relieved that he can answer. 

Touya turns his head, eyes softening. “... Y’okay?” he asks. 

“Me?” Keigo asks, laughing. “You’re the one that got tossed into a wall, idiot.” 

“Speaking of which, I’m gonna heal up your head,” Kusakabe says. “Doesn’t look like your skull is cracked, and your pupils are fairly even, so I should be able to just–” He runs his fingers through Touya’s hair, and Keigo can’t actually help the way he chides at that, clicking his teeth with a little hissing sound. 

Kusakabe doesn’t even look at him, parting Touya’s hair slightly to look at his scalp. “Alright, looks better.” 

Touya blinks a few more times. “... Feels… better… I think,” he mumbles. He squints at Kusakabe. “... I thought you had a… minor healing Quirk.” 

“I do,” he replies easily. 

Keigo looks up at him sharply. “You just repaired several major breaks,” he says. 

“Yep,” he says. “ETA, Manabe?” 

“Pulling in now,” he replies back, eyes flicking into the mirror, brows furrowed slightly. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Keigo says, leaning forward. “Why would you lie about your Quirk?” 

“I didn’t,” Kusakabe replies, feeling over Touya’s neck carefully, fingers lit up pink. “That’s better–this was misaligned,” he mumbles. 

The ambulance pulls to a stop, and Manabe jumps into action, running around the back to pull open the doors. Keigo stares him down, eyes narrowed. He swings his arm out, slotting his primary feather, hardened into a blade, into the handles to keep the back doors shut before Manabe can pull the doors open, then snatches Kusakabe’s hands away from Touya’s throat, holding them in a bruising grip. “I don’t understand what game you’re playing, but because you saved his life, I’ll allow you exactly five seconds to explain it to me,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Start speaking.” He hears the doors rattle against the blade. 

“Fuck,” Kusakabe curses, yanking at his grip. “Ow? That hurts, you know? Comet, are you just going to let him–?” 

“Explain,” Touya says, still looking dazed, confused. 

“Ugh. Heroes. You’re all so–annoying,” he mutters. “I healed you, didn’t I? My Quirk is a little more extravagant than it’s listed as is all! If I can save someone, and I feel like doing it, I do it. I just don’t want to run around doing it all the time. It’s boring and exhausting,” he says, rolling his eyes. “See if I do it for you again, though,” he sniffs. 

“It’s… boring,” Keigo repeats slowly, staring at him. 

Manabe pulls open the driver-side door, jumping back in. “The hell is going on?” he demands. “Oh, shit–Kusakabe–”

“Yeah, shit,” he says, grimacing. “They figured it out.” 

“He’s really harmless! Promise!” Manabe says, holding his hands up. “He just–does a little extra now and again!” 

Touya focuses on him, frowning. “You–just want to use your Quirk how you want to, right?” he asks, like he’s trying really hard to stay present in the moment. 

Kusakabe looks down at him, brows raised in surprise. “... Yeah,” he says quietly. “Knew you’d get it.” 

“What does that mean?” Keigo snaps. 

“He gets it, too,” Touya murmurs. “He’s just–worried right now.” 

“What do I get, Touya?” 

“He doesn’t want to be a tool, or a weapon,” he says, looking over at Keigo, and oh, he guesses he… does get that. He lets go of Kusakabe’s hands, and they glow a soft pink, healing themselves from his tight grip. 

“Why’d you–decide to…” Touya blinks, looking unbearably tired. 

“You’re going to be really tired,” Kusakabe says sympathetically. “Sorry. It’s a bit of a side effect. I tried to nullify it as much as possible, but… you know. As for why I chose to heal you up…” He shrugs. “I like to see you on scene, Comet.” 

Manabe laughs nervously. “We really need to hurry up–the hospital staff is going to come out if we don’t take him in, and they really should look at his head,” he says, bouncing on his feet. 

Keigo nods quickly. “Alright. I want to be clear, though, if you’re lying, and you did something to him, Kusakabe, there’s no place that you can hide from me,” he says, putting his Hawks smile on his face, keeping his eyes cool. “I’ll track you through the palaces of the heavens and the circles of hell if I need to to make sure that I can rip you apart piece by piece, and I’ll be sure to keep you alive until the bitter end so that you can experience every second of misery that comes with being torn to bits. Understood?” he asks pleasantly. 

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence. 

“Jesus Christ, Birdie,” Touya mumbles. 

“... Understood,” Kusakabe says. His pupils are crosses, and it’s interesting to see them contract in fear, getting smaller like little plus signs in his bright pink irises. 

“Great! Let’s go, then!” he says, removing his primary from the door. He loosens it back into a feather and lets it rejoin his left wing as they exit the ambulance. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Keigo desperately wants to stay by Touya’s side. Touya is the one that sends him away after he gets admitted, staring him down, informing him that it’s not that serious and he’s not even dying, so get the hell out of here, Birdie. So, he’s back at the agency, trying to be Hawks, and trying very hard not to be Keigo. 

It’s hard. 

It’s never been hard to not be Keigo before. 

It doesn’t help that Rhythmic is flitting around him like an anxious little fly, asking about Comet every five seconds, and Hawks wants to swat him. 

Aerial is fine, luckily, if a little sheepish that they fell under Crush’s Quirk, and Havoc is… well, she’s doing less than great. Social media is tearing her apart since Thunder Dome died in her arms and on her watch, and now shaky civilian footage caught her launching Comet into a wall under Crush’s Quirk, so the court of public opinion is being–less than kind. 

She’ll be taking a leave of absence for at least two weeks, and they’ll address it in their press conference tomorrow. Hawks agency press conferences tended to address several issues at once, so as long as Touya was out of the hospital and well, they would address everything the press wanted to bring up, including Havoc’s supposed attack. 

Hawks sighs, looking at his phone. 

Touya Worrier Warriors

Natuso - 22:49
how’s he doing? 

Hawks - 22:50
he was fine when i left him. he keeps sending shitty flip phone selfies of his hospital bed, so i think he’s alright. i want to throw his flip phone in the trash tho 

Natsuo - 22:50
that makes two of us. that thing is a dino 🦖

Fuyumi - 22:51
I keep offering to get him a new one but he won’t hear of it. 

Hawks - 22:52
er well. you uh. don’t have to worry about that anymore.
at least after this friday.

Natsuo - 22:52
oh no shit? he’s gonna freak the fuck out
like probably in the bad way actually
just so you’re ready for that 

Fuyumi - 22:53
Yeah, he’s… bad with gifts.

Shouto - 22:54
… Are you going to throw away his phone on his birthday? How is that a gift?

Hawks - 22:54
no, shou, i bought him a proper smartphone 

Shouto - 22:55
Oh.
That makes more sense. 

Hawks - 22:55
yea i don’t really expect him to take it well tbh as long as he takes the damn thing
his blurry selfies are killing my soul 

Natsuo - 22:56
… did you get him a whole phone just so you could have a clear picture of his face
like that was the ENTIRE ass reason 

Hawks - 22:56
what are you, a cop? 

Shouto - 22:57
He’s a college student.
He’s studying to be a doctor?
You know this. Why are you asking if he’s a cop? 

Natsuo - 22:58
shou im begging you
please

Shouto - 22:59
ツ
Then beg. 

Hawks - 23:00
aDSGKJKFDJGLSKDFJG

Natuso - 23:00
ADKJGKSLDJFGSLDJFGKLSJDFG

Fuyumi - 23:00
cxnvc,mnwoeirg

Hawks snickers, covering his mouth. He really can’t tell half the time when Shouto is actually confused about a meme or not, and he’s pretty sure Shouto prefers it that way. He flips over to his conversation with Touya. There’s a blurry photo of Touya’s left eye, his fluffy hair, and his monitor in the background showing his heart rate, blood pressure, and other statistics along with a text. 

Touya - 22:54
Still not dead. Look. Heart is beating and everything. 

Hawks 23:02
good work. keep that up and they’ll probably give you a celebratory jell-o 

Touya - 23:03
They already tried. Have I mentioned hospital food is disgusting? 

Hawks - 23:03
once or twice. a minute. for the last day or so
i’ll bring you some sansai soba after i get off shift
or you could stop being stubborn and let ‘yumi bring some food by now 

Touya - 23:07
No to both. I’m fine. I’m just complaining to complain.
They’ve got me on painkillers again, and it makes me a little whiny.
Sorry.

Hawks - 23:07
i’m not mad at you for having a bad time in the hospital? hospitals suck
when are they planning on letting you out? 

Touya - 23:09
Later today, or I’m jailbreaking. The CT scan looks alright, but they’re worried about how hard I hit the wall. Apparently I should have a more serious head wound, and they’re not sold that Kusakabe’s Quirk was enough for it because it SHOULDN’T have been, so they’re debating an MRI.
If they don’t get on with it, I’m climbing out the window. 

Hawks - 23:09
you absolutely are not doing that
you’re going to sit there and get an mri if they say you need an mri because i’m worried about your head, too 

Touya - 23:10
Sure, sure.

Hawks glares at his phone for a long moment, then flicks his gaze back up to the clock. He’s got another hour in his shift at this point, but most of the paperwork is resolved. 

Hawks - 23:11
i will come down there. don’t make me. 

Touya - 23:12
… Oh? And what do you plan to do once you get here, Birdie? Gonna tie me to the bed to keep me here? 

Hawks - 23:13
touya. 

Touya - 23:14
Ugh. Fine. Relax.

Hawks groans, putting a hand over his face. He’d flirted with Touya often before they slept together, but now Touya was doing it back periodically, and it was… flustering. He didn’t do it often, but he would give him a look, or say something casual, or lean into his space with a heated gaze, and it was all Keigo could do not to fall to pieces then and there. He would murmur Birdie with that tone, his deep voice curling around the edges of it, and Keigo would have to wrangle all of his scattering thoughts with an iron fist to keep from falling to putty in his hands. 

He should probably be concerned that it took so very little for Touya to pull him apart, but–he trusted Touya. In ways he’d never trusted anyone before. 

It's... worrying in its own way, terrifying in its own way, really, but… He’s all in. He’s Touya’s man, through and through. 

He looks back to his files, clicking through them. He’s filing his incident report for the HPSC right now, rather than just the one for the agency itself. As he does, he makes a mental note of the names associated with them for Touya. 

They have a job to do, after all.

Chapter Text

Touya thinks it’s probably a bad idea to put him in front of the public after the hour of sleep he got in the hospital. When he says as much, Morioka presses an energy drink into his hand, narrows his eyes, and says, “I haven’t slept more than an hour a night in three weeks, Comet. Drink and get over it.” So, Touya drinks and gets over it. 

He feels kind of like one big bruise still. Kusakabe healed the major wounds, but his back is still mottled with greenish-yellow bruising where the scar tissue isn’t, and his arm still aches where it was broken. His ribs and sternum still ache. His spine. His head. He can tell exactly where he was broken, exactly where Kusakabe healed him. He wonders if those pains will go away eventually. He never got the chance to ask. 

Whatever. He’s out of practice moving while his body is in this kind of pain, but he’s not unfamiliar. It’s a bit like riding a bike, so he falls right back into it, adjusting the way he walks slightly so he can avoid pulling at the muscles around his ribs, keeping his arms tucked against his sides so he doesn’t pull so much at his back and sides. 

Keigo stares at him, unblinking, all morning, while he moves around the agency, finishing up his own incident paperwork, talking to the sidekicks, assuring them in careful, clipped tones that he’s fine, that Havoc did not attack him unprovoked–what the hell?–and that he’ll be fine for the press conference. He sips at the energy drink, which tastes roughly like sugar water mixed with battery acid, and grimaces, but it does a spectacular job of keeping him alert. 

Rhythmic lurches into his space, apparently having just arrived, around nine. He reaches out, putting his hands on Touya’s elbows, and it takes a Herculean effort to not slap his hands away because what the hell. 

“Comet! I saw the fight on the news, are you alright?” he asks, hazel eyes big and worried. 

Touya steps back carefully out of reach of his grasping hands. “I’m fine. Thanks.” He flicks his eyes around, looking for an escape. He sees Keigo, watching them with sharp eyes, brows furrowed. The paper in his hands is crumpled slightly with the force of his suddenly clenched hand, and oh, that’s all it takes to realize that Rhythmic is not just bad at social cues, and not good at understanding personal space. He’s trying to flirt with Touya.

Keigo’s eyes snap to Touya’s, and his brows raise in question. 

Touya looks back to Rhythmic. “Hawks got me to the hospital,” he says quickly. They’re going to announce that they’re dating shortly, surely he should–play that up. “He made sure I was alright. He’s–good like that,” he says awkwardly, looking down at his feet. 

Rhythmic shifts. “Oh! So–you two are–are you–?” he asks. 

“Yep. Yeah,” he replies quickly. “Morioka’s having us confirm it at the press conference, so.” He makes an aborted waving motion with his hand, then takes a long drink from the drink in his hand, grimacing. “... I don’t know how he drinks these things,” he adds, holding it up. 

Rhythmic lets out a bark of laughter, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “... Me neither,” he says. “They’re kind of vile, aren’t they?” 

“Absolutely disgusting.”

He smiles. “I hope you guys are happy together,” he says. “Can we–still be friends? I know I’ve been–totally awkward and starstruck, but I can totally be chill, I promise.” 

Touya rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh, sort of thought we were normal colleagues up until about two seconds ago, so… I don’t have a problem with that,” he says. 

Rhythmic groans, putting his face in his hands. “You totally didn’t notice that I was–?”

“Not even a little,” Touya confirms. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, I’m sorry. Totally awkward.” He sighs. “Thanks for being cool about it.” 

Touya laughs. “Don’t worry about it. It’s–a little flattering, honestly. Not many people like me.” He pats Rhythmic’s head like he would Shouto’s, hoping it’s vaguely soothing. 

Rhythmic stares at him blankly. “... What?” 

He takes another sip, grimacing. “I’m not exactly the approachable type. You should probably see someone if your type is ‘can’t find a vocal tone with a map,’ and ‘makes the other sidekicks run away in fear,’” he jokes. 

Rhythmic’s jaw drops. “... Oh, God, you’re serious.”

Touya blanches. “Sorry. Bad joke?” 

“Comet. You’re–amazing. Half the sidekicks commiserate with my… crush, I guess? We sob on each other over drinks,” he says awkwardly. “Hawks brought forty copies of the magazine with your interview back, and they were all gone before he left the room. It wasn’t because Hawks was there. We stare at him all damn day. He loses his appeal after you see him run into his office window.” 

Touya blinks. Then laughs. “... Uh… okay,” he says slowly. “You’re–joking.” 

“I do not run into my office window,” Keigo interrupts, dropping his chin on Touya’s shoulder. Touya glances at him, amused. 

“I feel like you do,” he replies. 

“Hawks!” Rhythmic squeaks. 

“Rhythmic,” Keigo replies easily. He turns back to Touya. “I don’t. Don’t spread lies. I don’t run into windows,” he insists. 

Touya rolls his eyes. “When’s the conference?” he asks instead. 

“Morioka wants us in his office for prep soon,” he answers, closing his eyes with a frown. “I don’t wanna.” 

“In the words of Morioka, ‘drink and get over it,’” he says, offering the can in his hand. 

Keigo blinks his eyes back open, staring at the energy drink in his hand. He takes it, takes a sip, then grimaces. “... That’s really, really disgusting,” he says slowly. 

“Absolutely vile,” he agrees, taking it back. He throws back the last third of the can in one long pull. “Let’s go. ‘Bye, Rhythmic.” He waves, walking toward Morioka’s office.  

Keigo stares after him. “... Yeah, alright.” 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

They’ve discussed it. It shouldn’t be that bad. Still, Touya feels cold sweat gathering on the back of his neck as he settles down in front of the crowd at the table. He’s been assured he doesn’t have to answer every question, that he can redirect or shut down questions he doesn’t want to answer, and that Morioka will cut off questions that he shouldn’t answer. 

Still. 

There are a lot of people. 

He looks over the crowd uncertainly. He recognizes a lot of them, because he watches TV and he remembers every newscaster he sees. He scans over them, trying to decide whether he likes them or not. He never really paid attention to what kind of news they reported beyond his compulsive need to mark down the face and name of every person he saw, though, so he’s… not entirely sure. He can’t really mark any particulars beyond the most popular faces. He does see Sena Kinoshita in the crowd, and that–mildly reassures him, though he thinks it maybe shouldn’t. 

Morioka sits beside him, and Keigo sits on his other side, reaching under the table to squeeze his knee once. Touya tips his head slightly in appreciation, and several flashes go off as cameras start taking pictures of whatever his face is doing. He makes sure to smooth out his uncomfortable expression.. 

“... Is it–always this bright?” he asks in an undertone. 

“Yep! You get used to it,” Keigo replies. Ah. Not Keigo. This is all Hawks. His grin is wide and fake, dripping with insincerity. Touya has to repress the urge to recoil from it. 

Hawks waves to the crowd, smile crinkling the corner of his eyes, and Touya sighs, sitting back. He swipes Morioka’s energy drink, taking a long sip, and Morioka stares at him blankly. 

“I’ve killed men for less,” he says flatly. 

“Kill me, then. It’ll be less torture than this is about to be,” Touya replies, equally flat. 

“... You owe me a twelve pack of them,” he counters. 

“I’ll buy you a twenty-four pack if you make sure I don’t have to do another one of these for at least two months,” he counters. 

“... A month.” 

“Six weeks.” 

“Deal.” 

He grimaces. “These are disgusting, by the way.” 

“You don’t even like them,” Morioka despairs, putting his head in his hands. 

“Nope,” he replies, taking another drink. 

Morioka takes a long, arduous breath. “Alright. Your imminent death aside. Let’s get started. I’m turning on the mics, so don’t say anything stupid.” 

“That’ll be difficult for Hawks,” Touya quips. 

Hawks shoots him a look, and Morioka clicks on the mics with a small feedback noise. 

“Alright, everyone! Welcome, thank you for coming. We’re going to address a number of different issues today; it’s been a little while since we’ve had a press conference, and I know you all have questions. Hawks has been very busy, but we’ve got some time, so we’re going to take the time to address the questions everyone has. Hawks has a prepared statement to address the big note issues, then we’ll open the floor to questions.” 

Hawks clears his throat. “Alrighty, hello, hello!” He waves. “Great to see you all, thanks for coming out. I wanted to start off by saying that I wanted to send my sincerest condolences to the families and friends of Thunder Dome, Matrix, and Takeshita. I sent my personal regards to them, but we can’t start a public conference without acknowledging the loss of these three heroes. We’re doing everything we can to bring in the people responsible for their deaths. Their Quirks are strong, and tricky, but the heroes you’ve put your faith in will make sure the villains responsible for their deaths are brought to justice,” he says firmly. “I know you all have seen some of the fights between the heroes and these villains. You’ve seen how tricky their Quirks are. Unfortunately, you’ve seen us lose. You’ve seen us… not at our best.” 

Hawks pauses, looking at Touya. “One of these villains has a compulsion Quirk that forced her to attack another pro hero. It’s important that you understand this, because Pro Hero Havoc has been seen at her worst, too. I want the media, and the public, to understand that this is not who she is. Havoc is a great hero, and I don’t want these villains to add her to the list of victims they’ve claimed.”

He gives another lengthy pause, then nods. “On a related note, I also want to announce that Comet has transferred to the Hawks agency. He’ll be a great asset for us, and we’re happy to have him,” he says, grinning. He sets his hand in Touya’s hair, ruffling it. Several flashes go off, and Touya blinks away the spots in his eyes. “We’ll be working on this case together, and we’ll bring them to justice. Thank you.”

“Alrighty,” Morioka says. “We’ll take questions now. Up front, red blazer?”

“Comet! Is it true that you transferred to Hawks agency because the two of you are romantically involved?” a woman asks, leaning forward.

Touya blinks. Right into it, then. 

“It’s good etiquette to introduce yourself,” Morioka says politely, smiling, with a slight edge to his voice. 

“It’s fine, I know who she is,” Touya says, waving him off. “Haruka Yamane, Laugh and Leak News Japan, right?” he asks, tilting his head. 

She flushes. “Yes!”  

“Yes, we’re together. No, that’s not why I transferred agencies. Next?” 

“In the back, green cardigan?” Morioka asks. 

“Sena Kinoshita, Hero Passion! Why did you transfer, then, Comet?” a familiar woman in the back asks. “Were you unsatisfied with Gunhead’s agency?” Another one they’d prepared for. He has a canned answer for this one. 

“I've mentioned this to you before, Kinoshita," he says with a chiding smirk. "Gunhead is a credit to the hero community, and his agency is well-run. I was perfectly satisfied there, but as a hero, we’re always looking to improve. I transferred because I think we can do good work together,” he says. “If I didn’t think I could do good work here, I would have stayed at Gunhead’s. I like the patrol route I have access to here, and the cases that I’ll have access to are more suited to my Quirk and my training. Likewise, with the case we’re working on, the timing of the transfer makes the most sense. Traversing back and forth was more effort than it was worth. A higher ranked hero agency will test my skills more as a hero, and I look forward to seeing how I can grow on this path.” 

“I’d also like to add that my agency has audit programs in place for heroes that are in relationships; any work we do will have a second set of eyes on it, and favoritism isn’t going to be an issue in filing paperwork or in assigning missions. He’ll be assigned as his skills allow,” Hawks cuts in smoothly. 

“Back right, yellow shirt,” Morioka says. 

“Kazuki Abeno, Urban Gossip Japan,” a man with curling horns says. “Comet, what do you have to say about the rumors that Tenko Shimura, the villain linked to the group responsible for the deaths of the three heroes mentioned at the beginning of this conference, is your ex? Were you involved with him previously? Does that compromise your ability to work on this case?” 

Ah. They had not prepared for this question because Morioka was not aware that Tenko was an ex. He pauses, drumming his fingers on the table, and glances to Morioka. He tilts his head, indicating he can field the question as he sees fit, to answer or pass. 

“I went to school with Shimura. That fact is public record,” he says flatly. “We were friends before he dropped out. He was…” He hesitates, considering his words carefully. “I won’t say he had no reason to be angry, but I want to state very clearly that there is never a reason to do what he did to Thunder Dome. Whatever affection or friendship we held was years past, and we haven’t spoken since he left Shiketsu. The person he’s become is unrecognizable to me.” 

Morioka blinks at him, tilting his head in approval. Nice. Good answer, great. He’s getting a good grade in press conference, as Shouto would say, which is both normal to want and possible to achieve. 

… He should really limit Shouto’s screen time. He takes another drink of his energy drink as Morioka picks out another reporter. 

“Rikuura Ueshima, Pulse News, Hawks, you claim that Havoc was not acting of her own accord. How can you be sure? What’s the nature of the Quirk that the villain has? How can civilians protect themselves against a Quirk that heroes fall to so easily?” 

Morioka shakes his head. “We’re not able to publicize any additional details of the villains that haven’t been released by police, as this is an ongoing case. We’re positive that Havoc was not acting of her own accord, and that they don’t seem to be interested in going after civilians. They do seem to be focused on targeting heroes.” 

“Taking reasonable precautions is all we can ever ask of civilians, y’know? Leave it to us, and we’ll make sure you guys are safe. You’ll notice that there have been zero civilian casualties, and very minimal injuries at any of the fights–there’s a reason for that,” Hawks points out. “They’re not interested in civilians, and we’re good at keeping you all safe. Take that to heart.” 

Morioka gestures to the next reporter. “In the green shirt, back right.” 

“Rin Sumire, Buzz & Banter. Comet, Endeavor has made it clear in the past that he’s against LGBT policies. As his son, how do you intend to handle the difference in your public platforms as an openly LGBT hero?” she asks. 

Touya grimaces. “Endeavor’s opinion on the matter is immaterial to me. I’m an adult with my own career. I have no reliance on him, nor do I have a relationship with him of any kind beyond what’s strictly necessary. I’ve made that fairly clear over the years since my debut. I don’t see why I would need to handle any kind of difference in our opinions.” 

Morioka moves to call the next reporter, but Sumire interrupts. 

“There are rumors that the rest of your siblings are living with you, Comet, apart from Endeavor. Did they move out with you because they share your views? Or are your siblings just taking advantage of the fact that they don’t have to have real adults in the house?” she asks, smiling slyly.

Touya freezes, staring at her. He thinks his face stays blank. He hopes his face stays blank. The idea that he–left–so that he could. What? Have a party house? Is… Is that seriously the question? His brain works through the rest of the question, and he realizes there's no good answer to that question. If he says that they share his views, he's implying that they're also queer, thus outing half of his family. Fuyumi isn't. Shouto is, and Natsuo... He's not even sure, but it's definitely not this press conference's business whether he is or isn't. 

“I may not be the most well-versed in how these press conferences work, but I do believe you only get one question. Your first one was lackluster, so perhaps you ought to have stopped while you were behind,” he says flatly. 

Hawks makes an undignified snorting sound, slapping a hand over his mouth, and Morioka puts a hand over his face. The flash of cameras says that his face is… probably not as blank as he hopes.

“... Yep, okay! Next!” Morioka says tightly. 

Oops. He probably wasn’t supposed to say that one. 

The next few questions are a bit of a blur. He doesn’t have to answer them–they’re directed at Hawks and Morioka. Something about agency allocations and damage reports over the last month; things he’d have nothing to do with and doesn’t fully understand because he’s never had to file them. He feels off-balance. Uncomfortable. Is there doubt that he’s taking care of Shouto properly? It shouldn’t matter, but he hates the idea of anyone doubting that he can take care of Shouto, even this two-bit reporter that runs what he remembers as being an unimportant gossip rag. He should not care about this. 

Why the fuck does he care about this? 

He feels a hand slide into his, fingers linking between his own, and he startles slightly. He glances down at Keigo’s hand in his, then over at him. He’s not looking, in the middle of an answer about some kind of budget adjustment, waving his free hand around as he speaks, but he squeezes Touya’s hand tightly in reassurance. Touya squeezes back, focusing on the sound of his voice for a moment, listening to the tones of it. He must be more tired than he thought, because he loses himself in the feel of Keigo’s thumb rubbing across the back of his hand so much that he almost misses the question posed to him.

“–Comet, how do you feel about your boyfriend being so much higher ranked than you?” 

Touya blinks. “... If that’s the kind of question we’re on, do you still need me?” he asks Morioka before he can think better of it. “I think we’re past everything that’s important.” 

He hears a few barks of laughter, and Hawks snickers, leaning forward. “He really doesn’t care all that much about ranks,” he says lightly, answering for him.  “We’re more concerned about doing our jobs and making sure people are safe.”

Morioka laughs. “Yeah, on that note, I think Hawks and Comet need to get back to work. I’ll stay behind to answer a few more logistics questions about the agency, but they’re going to head back in to get some more work done.” 

Touya nods to him. He starts to loosen his hand, but Keigo tightens his grip, pulling his hand closer. Touya blinks, glancing down. Well… he supposes they did just announce they’re dating. Might as well. He picks up his stolen drink with his free hand, saluting to Morioka and standing up. Several cameras flash at the motion, and then several more as his and Keigo’s linked hands come into view. He’s glad they’re holding hands because he’s a little blinded by the lights. Hawks has to lead him away. 

“... So, how did I do?” he murmurs. 

“Mmmmm…” Keigo hums.

“You should probably lie to me,” he mumbles, frowning at him. 

Keigo laughs brightly, guiding him toward the agency. “Ten out of ten. You did flawlessly.” 

“Well, don’t lie that hard, now I know I did awful,” he grumbles. 

Keigo snickers, leaning in to nudge him aside so he can pull the door open for them. He leads Touya in, walking him over toward the elevators. “Let’s go over some of these case files. All Might should be meeting up with us later, along with some of the others who are working on the case. We’re going to try to get some more information from the canvassing they’ve been doing,” he says. 

Touya nods. “Let’s hope they’ve found something.” 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya’s… tired when he gets home. He’s ready to get some sleep, frankly, but apparently that’s not in the stars. He walks in the front door to the sound of yelling. More specifically, the sound of Shouto yelling. He’s running before he registers any of the words, shoes still on, clattering across the wooden floors. He darts into the kitchen to see Shouto, feet parted, hands clenched into fists, standing halfway in front of Natsuo, leaning forward to shout at Endeavor, who is in their goddamn kitchen for some reason. 

“–said to get out!” Shouto shouts, his voice raised so much that it's echoing off the walls. Shouto never yells like that, not unless he's terrified. 

“Who do you think you’re–” Endeavor starts, voice thundering. Natsuo flinches back against the sink, even as he reaches for Shouto to pull him out of the way. 

Touya stalks forward, spinning around to get directly in front of Endeavor. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing in my house?” he snaps, voice low and dangerous. “You’re leaving. Right now.” He seizes the front of his shirt, yanking him toward the door. He knows he’s not stronger, but he’s well practiced at facing opponents bigger than himself.  He throws himself into the motion, leaning so he can kick off of the counter with his back foot to give himself extra force. It works–almost, enough to force him back a few steps. 

“I was invited,” Endeavor snaps, digging his heels in. 

“I sure as hell didn’t invite you. Shouto and Natsuo didn’t.” 

“Fuyumi did,” he counters. 

Touya shoots a look to Shouto, whose chest is heaving. He nods once, looking furious. 

“She did. Then you were promptly uninvited,” he says flatly. 

Touya huffs. “Fuyumi isn’t here, so your invitation is clearly revoked, isn’t it?” he asks, cocking his head. “See yourself out. Or I will.” He pushes against his chest again, hard, to make his point.

Endeavor’s jaw ticks. “... Your mother asked to see me,” he says flatly. 

“She didn’t. Her visitors get approved by me,” he replies, gritting his teeth. “If she had asked, it would have gone through me.” 

“She sent me a letter, Touya,” he bites out. “I know you’re mad. Listen to me for three seconds.” 

Touya narrows his eyes for a moment, glancing back to Shouto and Natsuo, appraising how they’re both shaking with rage and barely concealed fear. “... Outside. Go.” He points. “You’re not talking inside this house. I’ll be out in a second.” 

“Fine,” he says, turning and walking out. The door slams behind him. 

Touya’s shoulders slump for a moment, and he exhales shakily, running his hands over his face. “What the fuck,” he asks quietly, turning to Shouto and Natsuo. 

Natsuo shakes his head mutely, sitting down on the floor. 

Shouto swallows. “... ‘Yumi went to Tensei’s,” he says quietly. “He came over to talk about–about mom. Fuyumi invited him because he said he had something to say about her, but it just–it blew up. Like it always does.” He looks away. “She didn’t want to tell you, and then he wouldn’t leave, and Natsuo told her to leave, and I was going to call you, but…” He looks at Natsuo, who looks like he’s–only vaguely present in the current moment, eyes distant. 

Touya shakes his head and steps over, holding out his hand. “... Shou,” he says softly. “What do you need?” 

Shouto falls forward into his chest, and Touya wraps his arms around him, rocking him from side to side for a moment. “... Sorry that I wasn’t here. I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m here now. I’ll take care of it. I’ll keep us safe, kid.” 

“I know,” Shouto mumbles, clutching his jacket. He’s not crying, not shaking. He’s just–silent. The breakdown will happen later, Touya knows. He runs his hand through Shouto’s hair. 

“... See if Midoriya and Bakugo can come over tonight?” he asks quietly. “I don’t want you alone.” 

“... Can I?” he asks. 

“Yeah. They can stay over if their guardians don’t mind,” he says. 

“... Okay. I’ll go call them,” he says, squeezing Touya one more time. He turns, retreating to his room. Touya turns to Natsuo, crouching down in front of him. 

It’s–tricky. Sometimes touch helps Natsuo. Sometimes it makes everything worse. He won’t answer when he’s like this, so it’s a bit of a crapshoot. He takes a deep breath, reaching out to carefully touch his knee. 

Natsuo looks up at him, eyes glazed slightly. “... What.” 

“You with me?” he asks, shuffling forward, pressing his hand down slightly to apply a little more pressure. 

“... Yeah,” he says quietly.

Okay. Good. Touch is good, then. He slides his hands up to his shoulders, pressing down lightly to ground him in the moment. “Good. Focus on me, then. We’re all good, Natsuo,” he says. “I’m gonna take care of it. ‘Yumi’s safe, Shou’s safe, you’re safe, yeah?” 

“... Is he gone?” 

“Yep. I’m gonna take care of it,” he says reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry about him, or anything else. He’s not here anymore. Our house is safe.” 

Natsuo nods. “... Alright.” He looks away. “I’m… gonna go sit with Shou,” he mumbles. 

“Good. I’ll be in with you both in a moment, okay?” he asks, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. 

Natsuo presses back for a moment, letting out a shaky breath, and nods. He stands up, heading over toward Shouto’s room, and Touya turns back to the front door, squaring his shoulders. He swipes the packet of papers by the door on his way out. 

He walks out, jaw set. Endeavor is standing by the stairs, arms crossed, waiting impatiently. 

“Alright. Talk,” he says flatly. 

He holds out an envelope. “The letter,” he says. 

Touya snatches it, staring at the outside of the envelope. It says Enji on the outside in a familiar script, and it makes his chest seize. He unfolds the letter inside, skimming over the short paragraphs. It’s–personal. Too personal for him to be reading, really. Regrets, explanations, something about how she once thought she could have loved him if he hadn’t gotten so obsessed with being the best–

He folds the paper, puts it away, and focuses on not being sick for a moment. Touya holds out the manilla envelope full of Shouto’s school papers. “Sign these. They’re for Shouto. For UA,” he says tightly. “Sign them and then leave.” 

“You don’t think we need to talk about this?” he presses. He takes the manilla envelope, pulling out the packet. Touya digs around in his pockets, unearths a pen, and holds it out. 

“No,” he says.

“Fine. Then we’ll talk about you and Hawks,” he says, turning around to brace the papers against the wall behind him, reading over the packet with deliberate slowness. “You realize you’re flushing your career down the toilet by announcing your…” His lips curl. “Relationship with him, right?” 

“Am I?” he asks, trying to sound bored. He just sounds annoyed. 

“Yes. Japan won’t accept your inclinations,” he says, signing along the bottom of one of the forms. 

“That was a rhetorical question, Endeavor. I’m really not sure why you think I want your opinion,” he replies flatly. “I said in the press conference that I don’t care what your opinions are, and I meant it. Your thoughts have nothing to do with me. They haven’t for years, they’ll continue not to. Sign the damn forms.” 

“Your mother will want Shouto back if we work things out,” he says impatiently, signing the last form. He turns around, looking down his nose at Touya. 

“My mother will not have Shouto back if it means putting him in a house with you,” he says firmly. “Shouto doesn’t want that. I’m going to talk to her in person later and work out exactly what she wants from you, and what it means for my family. The one that you gave up access to the moment you decided to put your hands on that boy. If you even think of trying to take Shouto back, I’ll burn your career to the ground, Endeavor.” He stalks forward, leaning up into his space. “I’ll make sure to ruin you so thoroughly that you’ll never have a chance of showing your face in this country again, let alone having custody. And that’s if I’m feeling cruel enough to let you live when I’m done with you.” He reaches up, grabbing the collar of his shirt to drag him down to his level. “Listen to me closely. Do not touch my brother.” 

Endeavor stares at him, blue eyes burning with fury. “... You’ve got an impertinent streak a mile wide, boy,” he says, voice quiet. 

Touya stiffens. A screaming Endeavor was a scary Endeavor–a thing of nightmares. A quietly furious Endeavor, though–that was the thing Touya saw in his night terrors. That was the Endeavor that burned his spine, the Endeavor that tracked him down after he took all of his siblings from his home and dragged him back by his hair to try to call his bluff, the Endeavor that threatened murder. 

A quiet Endeavor was one that Touya learned he couldn’t back down from, not if he wanted to get out without severe bodily harm. He grips his shirt tighter, dragging him closer until they're nose to nose.

“Call me boy again, and I’ll burn your tongue out of your mouth,” he hisses. “It’s not impertinence. It’s rage, and you’ve been fueling it for years. Do you really want to light that match? See whose fire burns hotter?” Touya abruptly lets his expression relax fully, and for just a moment, lets himself peek over that edge into the abyss. Lets himself imagine what, exactly, he would do to Enji Todoroki, if he weren’t responsible for Shouto, for Natsuo, for Fuyumi, and he feels a grin spread across his face, slightly wrong. “I like to think I’d win. At the very least, it’d be a hell of a show, wouldn’t it, Enji?” 

Endeavor’s brow twitches, and Touya’s grin spreads wider. Victory. It’s always a good day when Enji fucking Todoroki is unnerved. 

“Now give me the papers and get the fuck off my porch,” he hisses, letting go of his shirt and holding his hand out. 

Endeavor slaps the papers into his hand and stalks off. He watches him to make sure he leaves, then leans back against the stairs, exhaling sharply. He pulls out his phone, clicking into Fuyumi’s texts. 

Touya - 18:46
We’ll talk about it later, but are you alright?

‘Yumi - 18:47
Yes.
I’m sorry. 

Touya - 18:48
I took care of it. Come home when you’re ready.

He takes a deep breath, then clicks into his contact with Keigo, hitting the call button. He’ll go back inside in a minute. He will. He just–needs a second. And… maybe Keigo’s voice. 

He answers immediately. 

Keigo always answers immediately. 

“Touya, hey,” he says, sounding vaguely pleased. “You saved me from trying to cook. I just managed to burn water.” 

Touya slumps into the stairs, laughing weakly. “... How’d you do that?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. It shakes anyway. 

Keigo pauses. “I think I forgot it was boiling? And then the pot was on fire.” 

Touya laughs again, leaning back against the stairs. His laugh cracks, and then–oh. He’s crying. He leans forward, burying his face in his knees. 

“Oh, Touya,” Keigo says softly. “Okay. It’s okay. What’s wrong?” 

“... Endeavor,” he mumbles.

“Ah. Shit. What did he want?” 

“... I don’t think I want to talk about it yet,” he whispers. “Can you come over?” 

“On my way. I’ll bring dinner,” he says. “Who’s there?” 

“‘Yumi is at Tensei’s. ‘Tsuo and Shou are here. Midoriya and Bakugo might show up later,” he mumbles. 

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll bring something for everyone, then,” he says thoughtfully. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Want me to stay on the phone?” 

“No, it’s okay. I need to go–sit with them. I–I’d leave the door unlocked for you, but I–he might come back, honestly. Just call when you get here,” he says with a sigh. He stands up, running a hand across his eyes. 

“Got it. Touya?” 

“... Yeah?” 

“You did everything right. Thanks for calling me,” he says. “I’ll be over soon.” 

Touya makes a small noise that he thinks can–really only be called a whine. He presses his hand against his mouth, trying to hold back the wave of emotions that hits him with. Keigo doesn’t even know what happened. Doesn’t know what he did, or why, but he just–sounds so sure that Touya must have handled it properly, must have done it right. And that being weak enough to need comfort from him was–right. Worthy of praise. 

It’s exactly what Touya needed to hear right now, and the fact that Keigo knew he needed to hear it, is… it’s overwhelming. Terrifying. It shoves him bodily over the edge of the abyss he’s been avoiding, the one he’s been climbing his way out of every chance he gets, hand over hand until he’s scraped and bloody, avoiding falling at every turn, at every revelation Keigo throws at him. 

Eight simple words are enough to ruin all of his work.

Touya’s in love with him. 

Fuck.

“... Alright,” he says, voice cracking. He hangs up. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Keigo isn’t exactly sure what he’s going to walk into when he shows up, bags of food in hand. Touya answers the door in a Skid Row hoodie and sweatpants, eyes rimmed in smudged, messy eyeliner that looks like it’s been wiped at but not properly removed. He can already hear Bakugo and Midoriya in the background bickering about–pillows? 

“... We’re making a fort,” Touya explains. “Come on. You’ll have to advise.” He walks in, leaning down to the chest of slippers. He pulls out a new pair, this one bulky and red with little chicken wings on it. “... I got you new house slippers yesterday,” he mutters, dropping them off to the side so he can put them on. 

Keigo stares at them, unblinking. “... These are the cutest things I’ve ever seen,” he says slowly. “I’m in love, actually.” He slips into them, laughing. “Thanks, Touya.” 

Touya looks at him, eyes unreadable for a moment, then shrugs. “Glad you like them,” he murmurs. He turns back to the living room, like he’s going to walk away. Keigo reaches out with his free hand, tugging him back in. 

“... You okay?” he asks quietly, tilting his head. 

Touya leans forward, setting his forehead on Keigo’s shoulder for a long moment. “... I will be,” he says, muffled against his shirt. So, no. Not okay at all. Keigo wraps an arm around him, pulling him into his side for a moment. 

“Okay. That’s alright. You don’t have to be,” he says soothingly, rubbing his back. 

“I do. Shou and ‘Tsuo aren’t okay,” Touya says firmly, his shoulders tensing. Keigo frowns, about to object, but Touya leans back, breaking the embrace. “Come on, bring that. We’re gonna eat in the living room,” he says, nodding to the food. “What all did you get?” 

“Mostly soba,” he says. “Nothing with meat. Figured it would be for the best to keep it veggie. I got sansai for you, some cold soba for Shou, here’s some miso, this is veggie gyoza… spring rolls…” He digs through the bags. “Oh, this is strawberry mochi for Shou.” 

Touya’s face softens. “... You’re so good to him,” he says, smiling slightly. “Come on.” He turns around, walking in. “Hawks is here,” he calls. 

“Sup, shitty chicken man,” Bakugo calls. 

“Be nice, shitty fireworks show. He brought food.” 

“Oh. Sup, adequate chicken man,” Bakugo amends. 

Keigo blinks. “... That’s… almost worse, actually,” he says, frowning. “I made sure some of this was spicy for you, but now I’m going to eat it instead,” he says. 

“Oi, hang on!” 

The livingroom is a complete disaster. A number of stools have been dragged over from the kitchen bar and are currently being arranged to hold up blankets to make some semblance of a blanket fort. Midoriya is squinting at them, mumbling under his breath, adjusting them around to make it a little bit taller and wider. Shouto and Natsuo are sitting together by the table, leaned against each other while they watch Midoriya work. 

“What do you think, Shou? Big enough?” Midoriya asks, cocking his head to the side. 

“... Yeah,” Shouto mumbles, squinting.

“Great! Come on. We can pile in, then.” Midoriya comes over, offering both of his hands to Shouto, a kind smile on his face. “You can sit in between me and Kacchan. How does that sound?” 

Shouto’s lips twitch, a little smile. “... Like a hazard,” he says, with a little huff. He reaches out, taking his hands. 

Midoriya laughs, bright and loud. “Probably,” he agrees. 

“Get your ass over here, nerds,” Bakugo barks from inside the fort. “I’ve got your island pulled up, Icyhot. I’m gonna sell your shitty turnips. Today’s the best prices.” 

Keigo smiles. “... They’re good for him, aren’t they?” he asks Touya. 

“... Yeah,” he says. “I think they could be. Go on in and get a movie picked out.” He pauses. “... Not disney. Too many bad parents,” he mumbles. “Go for uh… I dunno. Ghibli or something. I’ll grab ‘Tsuo.” 

Keigo nods, heading into the blanket fort. It takes up most of the livingroom, so there’s plenty of space for him to settle in, even with his wings. “Preference for movies, you three?” he asks. 

“He’s a tanuki, Katsuki,” Shouto says sternly. He looks up at Keigo, blinking. “Movies?” 

“I don’t give a fuck if he’s a raccoon God, his debt is stupid as hell, and these turnips are ass,” Bakugo grumbles. 

“... The Cat Returns,” Shouto mumbles. 

Keigo perks up. “I love that one,” he says, grinning. “You got it. Let me track it down.” He turns on the TV. Touya ducks in with Natsuo, who settles in on Touya’s other side, leaning against him. 

“What’d we pick?” 

“The Cat Returns,” Keigo says, humming as he searches. 

“Oh, we have that on DVD,” Touya says, leaning forward to pull it out from under the TV stand. 

He brandishes it, and Keigo laughs. “That tracks.” 

Keigo passes out food while Touya gets the movie started, then settles in. 

Touya turns on the subtitles, and Midoriya murmurs a quiet thank you, leaning against Shouto’s side. Bakugo is tapping away at the switch, his arm resting on Shouto’s knee. 

Keigo waits until Touya finishes eating before he makes any moves; he wants Touya to eat something. He knows he hasn’t had any sleep, and he hadn’t been able to convince him to eat anything, either. All he’d seen him drink was two of Morioka’s shitty energy drinks. He manages to get him to eat half a bowl of sansai soba, a few pieces of crispy tofu, and a spring roll before Touya slides the rest over to Natsuo, letting him finish it off. 

Keigo leans cautiously against Touya, trying to see if it’s something that will be welcomed. He expects, at best, a begrudging acceptance. He doesn’t expect Touya to melt into his side with a sigh, his eyes closing like this was the only thing he wanted. He wraps an arm around him, pulling him in, and rests his head on Touya’s. 

After a few minutes, Natsuo lays down, putting his head in Touya’s lap, and Touya starts carding his fingers through Natsuo’s hair absently. 

“... Thanks for being here,” he mumbles, turning his face into Keigo’s neck. 

“Any time. You call, I’ll be there,” he replies quietly. 

He feels Touya’s face scrunch up with some emotion against his neck, a small huff of air escaping. “... I know,” he whispers finally. 

Keigo turns his head into Touya’s hair, pressing a kiss against his head. “... Good,” he says. 

By the time the movie ends, Touya is halfway on Keigo, an arm haphazardly wrapped around his waist, asleep. Natsuo is snoring softly on his lap. He glances back, seeing Shouto halfway in Midoriya’s lap, asleep, his legs in Bakugo’s lap. Bakugo is still playing on the Switch, glancing over at them periodically while Midoriya runs his fingers through Shouto’s hair. 

“He’s asleep?” Keigo asks softly. 

Midoriya hums. “Yeah.” 

“Good. Them, too.” 

“What happened?” Bakugo asks gruffly, frowning. 

“What did he tell you?” Keigo asks, blinking. 

“Nothing. Just called us both and asked us to come over. But he never fuckin’ calls. He texts us in that shitty group chat. And he sounded all wrong,” he mutters, sounding irritable. 

He sighs. “Touya was tight-lipped about it, too,” he murmurs. “Endeavor showed up, but I don’t know what happened.” 

Bakugo hisses through his teeth like an angry cat. “Fucker.” 

“Yeah. Keep an eye on him for the next few days,” he says, tipping his head toward Shouto. “I think it was pretty rough.” 

“You don’t have to tell us that, shitty chicken,” Bakugo grumbles. 

“What Kacchan means,” Midoriya says, frowning at him, “is that we’ll take care of him.” 

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t tell people what I mean,” he says, glaring. 

“Shhh! You’ll wake him up.” 

Touya shifts slightly against his side. “Whazzppning?” he mumbles against Keigo’s neck. 

“Nothing, Touya. Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep,” he coos, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. 

Touya opens his eyes, looking up at him blearily. “I’m ‘wake,” he insists. “Can help.” 

“I know you can,” he assures softly. “You don’t have to, though. I’ve got it. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss against his temple. 

“... Oh. Okay,” he mumbles, relaxing back into his side, eyes slipping shut. 

Keigo closes his eyes for a moment, his throat tight at the show of trust. He presses another kiss into his temple, burying his face into Touya’s hair, and lets himself just–breathe for a moment. 

He pulls Touya close and basks in the fact that he loves him.

Chapter Text

Touya wakes up in between Natsuo and Keigo, a wing resting over them like a blanket. He looks over Natsuo’s messy hair, bleary, and sees a crop of red and white hair sticking out of a pile of limbs on the other side of the blanket fort. Shouto is curled up in the middle of a tangled pile of Bakugo and Midoriya, who look like they’re wrapped around him as much as possible. 

He yawns, shifting, and Keigo’s eyes immediately snap open, looking down at him. 

“Mm. Morning, Touya,” he says softly. 

Touya leans up, pressing his lips against his jaw once. He sighs. “Morning. We should get up and make breakfast for the kids,” he says. 

“Mmm. Yeah, alright,” Keigo mumbles. He rolls to the side, crawling out of the fort, and Touya follows, careful not to jostle Natsuo. He shuffles into the kitchen, pulling out a dozen eggs and some vegetables. 

“Omelets?” Touya asks, squinting at him. 

“Sounds good,” Keigo agrees, leaning against the counter. “I’ll chop veggies if you want.” 

Touya nods, sliding over some peppers, onions, and mushrooms. “Go for it. I’m going to make coffee. How do you take yours?” 

“... I, uh… don’t, really,” Keigo admits. 

Touya blinks. “... What? Your fridge is full of coffee. You literally said you were uncaffeinated when we were…” He stops. “... Do you drink any caffeine?” he asks, turning to look at him, brows raised. 

Keigo smiles sheepishly. “... No.” 

Touya stares. He’d put all of his odd behavior down to being uncaffeinated that time in the elevator, leaning toward him, eyes intent. Had he been trying to flirt all the way back then? Before the interview? “Oh,” he says. He turns to the coffee maker, pulling out the carafe to fill it with water. “... So, you…” He swallows, thinking. Does he–is he ready to have this conversation now? Probably not. He glances back to the living room, at the blanket fort. Definitely not here, in front of his brothers and two other kids. “Right,” he says instead. 

Keigo lets out a breath, almost sounding–disappointed. “Right,” he agrees. “Do you want to talk about yesterday?” he asks. 

Touya stares at the carafe, not speaking until it’s full. He walks back over to the machine, dumping the water into the back. “... He got a letter from my mother,” he says finally. 

Keigo nods, keeping his eyes on the vegetables he’s chopping, letting Touya talk. Touya–appreciates it. He doesn’t want to look anyone in the eyes right now. 

“My mother isn’t…” Touya stares at the coffee machine, brows furrowed for a moment. He grabs for the coffee grounds, dumping a few spoonfuls of espresso blend in, then sets it to drip on a strong brew. “My mother hasn’t been doing well for a number of years,” he says quietly, watching the coffee drip. “Being married to Endeavor will do that to you. She had a number of nervous breakdowns. Caused harm to someone important, and Endeavor put her away.” He pauses, drumming his fingers on the counter. 

“You can tell him, Touya. I don’t mind,” Shouto says quietly from the entrance to the kitchen. 

Touya jumps. “Fuck. Shouto. When did you wake up?” he asks, whirling around to look at him. 

“Sorry. I just woke up a few minutes ago.” He looks ruffled, a little dazed. Midoriya is behind him, his chin hooked over his shoulder, and Bakugo is walking toward the hallway, yawning. 

“... Is Natsuo up?” Touya asks. 

“Not yet. I put some more blankets on him.” 

Touya nods. “Alright. You can tell Hawks if you want to tell him that part. It’s… not my part to tell,” he says, uncomfortable. 

Shouto nods, glancing over as Bakugo comes back from the bathroom, leaning against the door frame, eyes on Shouto. 

“... We’re talking about my mother,” he clarifies. “Endeavor had her put into a facility a number of years ago.” 

Midoriya blinks, wrapping an arm around him. “Oh, Shou. I’m so sorry. Why?” he prompts, because he seems to know that Shouto wants to explain. 

Shouto always says this part with a bluntness that masks how he really feels about it; he’s able to mask his feelings in ways that make Touya simultaneously worried and slightly envious. “She poured boiling water on my face,” he says with a hapless gesture at his scar. 

“Fuck,” Bakugo hisses, moving to Shouto’s side. He hovers there, uncertain. 

Touya swallows. “... Yeah. That. When I moved out, Endeavor kept holding it over me. Saying he would revoke access for us to visit her.” He turns to the stove and clicks it on, setting out a pan. “Eventually, I got enough money to take over her care, and he couldn’t do that anymore. It took three years, but the last year, it’s been… better. He hasn’t seen her once the whole time she’s been in there, of course,” he says bitterly.

Shouto hums. “... You haven’t, either, Touya,” he says neutrally. It's not an accusation. Shouto isn't blaming him, even if the words sound like one, even if they make his hackles raise, make him want to bite out a retort. If it were anyone other than Shouto saying them, he would.

He shifts, shoulders taut. “I’m going to see her today,” he says quietly, staring at the pan. He prods the side of the pan, testing the temperature. 

“Touya!” Keigo yelps. 

Touya blinks at him. “... What?” he asks. 

“Don’t touch the pan. You’re going to… burn… yourself,” he says slowly, blinking, like he realizes that the statement is… stupid. 

“... I know I’m not the most heatproof thing out there, but it does take more that to burn me,” Touya says with an amused little smile. He walks over, taking the cutting board of vegetables. “What do you gremlins want in your omelets?” he asks. 

“Whatever you’re having,” Shouto says. 

“No mushrooms,” Bakugo says. “Extra peppers.” 

“Whatever you make will be fine!” Midoriya chirps. 

“Everything sounds good,” Keigo says. 

Touya smiles slightly. “I wasn’t including you in the gremlins,” he says to Keigo. 

Keigo smirks. “That’s a promotion,” he says. 

Touya laughs, mixing up the first omelet for Shouto.

“... You’re visiting mom today,” Shouto says thoughtfully. “Can I come?” 

Touya pauses. “... It probably won’t be a pleasant visit,” he warns. “I have to ask her about the letter she sent Endeavor.” 

Shouto hums. “I want to know why she sent it, too,” he says. 

He considers, pouring the mix into the pan. “... I don’t think so, Shou. Not this time,” he says finally. “I really don’t think it’s going to go well. I’ll take you next week, though, and you can ask her one-on-one. I’ll tell you anything she tells me, too,” he bargains. 

Shouto nods. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Go take a seat at the table. I’ll bring this out when it’s done,” he says, shifting the pan. “Hawks, can you grab some plates?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” he says. He grabs a stack, setting them next to Touya on the counter. Keigo pauses. “I’m… not sure if you finished telling me what you wanted to tell me before…” He tilts his head toward the table. “Do you want to keep talking?” he asks quietly. 

Touya hums. He flips the omelet in half, and sets it on a plate. “Give that to Shou, and I’ll tell you,” he bargains. 

Keigo nods. He walks the plate over to the table, sets it in front of Shouto, then comes back as Touya is cracking a few more eggs into a bowl. “... The letter seemed to imply that she was… willing to give him another chance,” he says in a rush, voice low. “And Endeavor seems to think that means that he’s got a chance of taking Shou away from me. If they get back together and work it out.” He goes to crack the third egg, but ends up slamming it into the counter in a mess of shell and yolk instead. He stares at it in silence for a long moment. “I told him I would ruin him. Kill him. If he tried. I meant it.” 

Keigo steps up beside him, leaning over to grab a rag. He carefully takes Touya’s hand, wiping off the mess. “There aren’t many people who would blame you for doing that,” he says softly. “Not under the circumstances.” 

“No?” Touya smiles wryly. “I think people might disagree with you. I said there was never a reason for Tenko to do what he did to Thunder Dome. It makes me a bit of a hypocrite, doesn’t it?” 

Keigo shakes his head. “What Tenko did to Thunder Dome was torture, Touya,” he says. “He didn’t know Thunder Dome. He didn’t care about him, or anyone associated with him. He maimed him for fun, because he was there, and as a result, Thunder Dome died. Anything you did to Endeavor? That would be self defense, purely to protect the people around you. That’s the difference,” he murmurs. 

Touya sighs. 

He loves Keigo. 

It isn’t just a sudden realization in the middle of the night, in an anxiety-fueled breakdown anymore. It’s just–there. A solid feeling, one that sways forward like the tide to overwhelm him now and again, one that stays ever-present like the ocean. He should tell him. He glances to the table, where Shouto sits, murmuring quietly to Midoriya and Bakugo. 

... He'll tell him later. If it goes poorly, he doesn't want to have a breakdown in front of them. 

“... Right,” he murmurs. “Well. He told Fuyumi he had the letter. She’s–the most agreeable of us,” he says uncomfortably. “She still talks to him sometimes.” He turns to the sink, washing his hands, then wets a rag, cleaning off the counter before setting up the next bowl. “She invited him here. More likely, he bullied his way into an invitation.” 

He hears a quiet, “morning, ‘Tsuo,” and looks back. Natsuo shuffles into the kitchen, pausing by Touya to bump his forehead against his shoulder. He heads over to the coffee machine, pulling down two mugs, and makes two of them. One is fully black, the way Touya usually drinks it, and the other one is loaded with sugar the way Natsuo does. He sets one cup next to Touya, then starts sipping at his own. 

“... What’re we talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks, voice rough with sleep. 

“Nothing you have to worry about,” Touya says smoothly. “What do you want in your omelet?” 

Natsuo sighs. “I’m fine, Touya. I can talk about it. Extra peppers, though.” 

Touya squints at him, appraising his expression. He looks a little haggard, his eyes a little tight, but he seems mostly alright otherwise. He nods once. “Do you want to tell me what happened yesterday?” he asks, dumping the mix in the pan with a dash of chili oil and some extra spices for Bakugo. 

Natsuo chugs his cup, then pours a second one. “He brought the stupid letter from mom in,” he says, voice tight and irritated. “He said that if mom was going to give him a second chance, then we should, too. We should let go of the past, and get over some petty grudge against him for her sake.” 

Touya’s shoulders tense. “... Ah. I can see how that would have. Gotten tense.” 

“Shou told him it was his fault that mom was in the… you know, in the first place, and he said…” Natsuo’s grip tightens. “He said it was Shouto’s fault. For not following instructions, like he wasn’t five fucking years old at the time. He wasn’t supposed to be around mom, and if he had followed instructions, she wouldn’t have–” He makes an angry noise in the back of his throat. “I jumped over the table at him. He threw me across the room. Fuyumi had to leave.” His voice is blank for the next part, emotionless. 

Touya spins around. “He–threw you,” he says, voice strained. “Are you okay? Did–?” 

“Shou looked me over. I’m fine. Just a little banged up,” he says flatly. 

“I want to look at you again today. Anywhere you were hurt,” Touya says quietly. “If you’ll let me.” 

“Yeah. That’s fine,” he mumbles. He takes another drink. 

Touya exhales harshly, turning back to the pan with shaking hands. He glares down at it. “... You’re okay,” he mutters. He flips over the omelet, then flips it over onto the plate, hands twitching. “He’s okay.” 

Natsuo steps forward. “Let me take over, Touya,” he murmurs, patting his shoulder. 

Touya nods slowly, stepping back. “... No mushrooms. Then everything. Then extra peppers twice,” he says. 

“Roger.” 

Touya crosses the room in two quick strides, stopping beside Keigo. He leans toward him, stopping just short of actually touching him, hand twitching toward him hesitantly. Keigo reaches out, pulling him into his arms easily, and Touya melts into his side with a sigh. 

“I made him sign Shou’s forms,” he says toward Natsuo. “So we shouldn’t have to see him again. One of them makes me his primary contact and appointed guardian for UA, so I can sign anything else he needs for the duration of his enrollment. I think he was too angry to notice while he was signing that I slipped that one in.” 

Natsuo grins. “Hell, yeah. Good work.” 

Touya mimics a little bow. “Thanks, I’ll be here all week,” he mutters. He sighs. “I’m going to see mom later today. To ask her about that letter. I don’t like being surprised like that.” 

“Fucking tell me about it,” Natsuo mutters. He flips the next omelet on the plate, then brings them both out to Bakugo and Midoriya, setting them down. When he comes back, he sighs. “... Did you text ‘Yumi?” 

“She said she was sorry. I told her to come home when she was ready,” he says, frowning. “... Are you good with that?” he asks, eyes narrowed. 

Natsuo stares at the bowl, brows furrowed. “... Yeah,” he mumbles. “I’m going to spend the day in the library today, though. Don’t really wanna be here today. And I’ve got an exam at three.” 

Touya nods. “Text me a few times throughout the day,” he requests. “I’m going to be annoying for the next few days,” he warns. 

“You always are when he shows up,” Natsuo sighs. 

“Do you blame me?” he asks, leaning further into Keigo, crossing his arms. 

“No. It’s… nice. That you worry,” he admits. 

Keigo pulls out his phone, frowning. 

“Sup, Birdie?” Touya asks, tipping his head back. 

“Morioka,” he says. He adjusts his arms around Touya so he can see the screen, too. 

One Caffeine From Death - 08:42
press confrence is publicized prty well. chk ur news feeds. tell fire boi 2 do the same 

2 fast 2 furious - 08:43
the way you text hurts my face 

One Caffeine From Death - 08:43
the way u live ur lyf hurts my face
  /\__/\   
 ( •⤙•  )
 ( ☕٩  )੭

2 fast 2 furious - 08:44
… touche 

Keigo pulls up a news feed, clicking into an alert for #Comet&Hawks, which he has tabbed for some reason. The first headline is promising. Pro Hero Comet Claps Back Against Nosy Reporters During Press Conference (Hilarious!). Keigo starts scrolling, pausing periodically to hover over a few different headlines. 

Pro Hero Comet and Pro Hero Hawks Dating! What This Means for Japanese Heroics… 

Pro Hero Hawks: GAY??????????? 

Pro Hero Comet and Pro Hero Hawks: Queer Icons! 

Hawks and Comet Pay Homage to Fallen Heroes During Press Conference 

Pro Hero Hawks Officially Off The Market! No Name Hero Snaps Up Number Six Hero In A Shocking Reveal! 

Touya snorts. “I know I’m not that popular, but I’m barely a no name,” he grumbles. 

“I’m particularly fond of the one that just says ‘gay’ with, like, eighteen question marks. It’s… not that much of a question, guys. I promise,” Keigo says, snickering. 

“What’s a clap back, any way? I didn’t clap at anyone,” Touya mutters. “Three of these say I clapped back at reporters. There was no clapping.” 

Natsuo lets out a bark of laughter. “Oh, fuck, you sound like Shou,” he says, delighted. 

“Ah, shit. That’s a slang thing, isn’t it?” he asks, groaning. “Look, he’s not the only one who didn’t get to touch the internet for half of his life. I missed shit!” he objects. 

Keigo is laughing, too, the damn traitor. “It means you were snarky,” he translates. 

“Oh. Yeah, okay. I guess I did that,” he mutters. 

Keigo clicks back into the text thread. 

2 fast 2 furious - 08:50
not terrible, all things considered. definitely could be worse. 

One Caffeine From Death - 08:51
def. we both live 2 c anthr day. hoo. ray. 

2 fast 2 furious - 08:51
see the agency therapist. im begging. your disregard for life is alarming my sidekicks 

One Caffeine From Death - 08:52
then beg, bitch
im not wasting sleep time on tht 

2 fast 2 furious - 08:53
literally why do you still have a job at my agency when you talk to me like this 

One Caffeine From Death - 08:53
im good @ my fking job hawks 

Keigo sighs. “... He’s insufferable.” 

“... and good at his job,” Touya points out. 

“And good at his job,” Keigo agrees. 

Touya shifts. “Does he–work for the commission?” he asks in an undertone, frowning. 

Keigo shrugs. “Technically, yes. But he’s not–one of them. Not in the way you’re thinking,” he murmurs. “He’s a contracted PR rep. He’s on their payroll, but there’s no way they’d trust him with anything important.” 

Touya nods. “Right.” 

“I’ve got your list. But now’s not the time. You need to talk to your mother today and take care of your family. My problems aren’t the priority,” he says, leaning down to press his lips against Touya’s temple. He–did that a lot last night. Casually, without thought. 

It was… flustering. Nice. 

He frowns. “I can multitask,” he objects quietly. 

“I don’t need you to. I’ve been fine for years. What’s a few more days?” he asks, smiling. “You don’t need to save the world in a day, Touya. We have time.” 

Touya turns to face him fully, frowning. He… doesn’t like that idea. He’s never felt like he has time. He’s always running out, always moments from burning out. He’s always in a hurry, always trying to make sure everything is in order and arranged for Shouto and Natsuo and Fuyumi so that they’ll be taken care of when he inevitably bites it. He wrote his first will the night of his eighteenth birthday for Christ’s sake, and he’s renewed it every six months since. 

“You can’t rely on that,” he counters quietly. “You never know how much time you have.” 

Keigo frowns, looking over his face for a moment. He reaches up, putting a palm on either side of his face. “Touya. You have time,” he says firmly. “I’m going to make damn sure of it. There is no highway option here, do you understand me?” 

“There’s no guarantee,” he insists. 

“There is. I’m making it right now,” Keigo says flatly. 

Touya looks away, frowning. The look on his face says he isn’t going to back down, and Touya doesn’t know how to make his point without arguing. He doesn’t want to argue; he has a feeling he’s going to have to do plenty of that later today. Natsuo clears his throat, sliding over two omelets, and Touya takes the opportunity to break the staredown, turning to it. 

“Thanks, ‘Tsuo,” he mumbles. He grabs a fork, taking a few bites. 

“When are you going to see your mother?” Keigo asks. 

Touya glances at Shouto. “Not sure. I don’t have anyone to watch them.” 

“I can stay home,” Natsuo says, subdued. 

“No, you need to get out of the house,” Touya objects immediately. 

“Then call ‘Yumi.” 

“Having her come home before she’s ready would be a mess. Especially if she and Shou are home alone,” Touya mutters, frustrated. They got at each other in ways that were–painful. Fuyumi tried to mother him in ways that made him uncomfortable, and Shouto shut her down in ways that made her feel useless. They often needed a mediator when they argued, otherwise they both just–shut down and couldn’t talk, sometimes for days if the argument was bad enough. 

Keigo clears his throat. “I could, uh. I could watch them,” he suggests. “If that’s. Something you’re fine with.” 

Touya blinks at him. “... You would be fine with that?” he asks, tilting his head. “Watching some rowdy teenagers for a few hours?” 

Keigo nods. “Yeah, sure. I’m a pro hero. How bad can teens be compared to villains?” he says, grinning. 

Touya blinks. “... I prefer the villains,” he says flatly. “Every single time.” 

Keigo blinks. “... Oh.” 

“But, too late. You already offered,” he says, smirking. “I’ll take you up on it.” 

“Wait, hang on–” 

“Thanks, Hawks. I’m going to change.” 

“Hold on a sec, I–” 

“Really appreciate the generosity!” Touya trots off to the bedroom, giving him a little two-fingered salute, to really rub it in. 

Keigo tips his head back and cackles. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya stands outside of his mother’s hospital room, hands clenched into fists. He hasn’t seen her in years. He’s never wanted to. He made sure Fuyumi and Natsuo and Shouto could, if they wanted to. He’s dropped Fuyumi and Natsuo here hundreds of times. He’s taken Shouto here more recently–only in the last few weeks. They’ve… started some kind of recovery together, thanks to the therapy Shouto has been doing, and, he thinks, in part because of Midoriya. 

Touya, however. All he remembers of his mother is her vacant stares, the slow decline into madness as she progressively stopped caring for them, the way she gave up on them. How he had to step forward to pick up the slack. 

It’s hard to forgive. He doesn’t know if he even wants to. 

Touya twists the handle, shoving it open in one quick motion, like ripping off a bandaid. 

Rei Todoroki is nothing like he remembers. Her expression isn’t vacant anymore. She looks… peaceful. She’s sitting by the window, her hair pulled away from her face, reading a book. She sets it down to look up at him. 

“... Touya?” she asks softly, tilting her head. “Is that you?” 

He doesn’t answer for a moment. He looks over the room, taking in the pictures on the wall. He sees a few news clippings, something about his debut as Comet. Some from some of his bigger takedowns. A picture of Natsuo at a conference. Several of Fuyumi with different classes over the years. One picture of them all as a family–this one is over her desk. It makes him uncomfortable to realize that Shouto must be four in the photo–he doesn’t have his burn yet. No one is looking at each other in the picture. 

Touya steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “Hi,” he says finally. 

“It’s been so long,” she says softly, putting her hands together on her lap. She smiles at him, leaning forward. “I’m glad to see you.” 

“... I don’t think I’m glad to see you,” he admits, shoulders tense. 

She looks down, linking her fingers tightly. “... That’s fair,” she says quietly. “I haven’t been the best mother, have I?” 

“I’m not here to help you drown in self-pity,” he mumbles. 

“No, of course not,” she agrees. “I’m not trying to make you. I just don’t want you to think that I… don’t understand,” she says carefully. 

Touya looks up at her, frowning. “What, exactly, do you understand, Rei?” he asks flatly. 

She winces at the tone, at the name, but nods. “I understand that I was a victim of Enji, too. But I was also your mother. And I had responsibilities to you, to your siblings. And I failed in every single one of them,” she says quietly. “I might as well have left you alone in that house.” 

Touya laughs, covering his mouth. “... No,” he says, shaking his head. “You didn’t. You didn’t just leave us alone,” he presses ruthlessly. “You left Natsuo and Fuyumi alone, maybe. Me and Shouto, though?” He shakes his head. “You actively turned away from us. Endeavor was horrible to us. You watched him do it, and you closed your eyes to it. You made it worse for Shouto, actually–you participated. You threw your own trauma at him, and burned it into his face,” he spits. He takes a breath, running his hands over his face. “I can’t–I can barely stand to look at you, even now,” he admits. “I can’t stand to look at him, ever. But he showed up at my house yesterday because he got a letter from you, saying that you wanted to forgive him for what he did to us, to you?” he asks, his voice cracking. “The fuck is that?” 

Rei leans back, blinking. “What?” she asks. 

“He brought it. You wrote it. Some bullshit about loving him if he didn’t put being the best first or whatever,” he says, waving an agitated hand. 

She shakes her head again. “I know what letter you’re talking about, Touya, but I–never sent it. It was–part of therapy,” she says, her voice cracking. “We had to–write it. To forgive our traumas in a letter, as best as we could, and store the letters.” She turns toward her desk, frantic, and starts pulling open drawers, looking through them. “It should–still be here–” Her breath comes quickly. “He shouldn’t have ever gotten–the–it was never supposed to be sent,” she says, her voice perilously close to a whine. And just like that, all of Touya’s rage evaporates, because all he can see is Fuyumi, trembling. All he can see is Natsuo, locking up, staring at the wall. All he can see is Shouto, fists clenched, brows furrowed while he pretends he’s not wracked with flashback after flashback. All he can see is someone he has to take care of. 

God fucking dammit.

Touya walks across the room, kneeling down in front of her. “Hey. Look at me,” he says, voice low and commanding. She turns to look at him, her eyes wide. She reminds him so much of Natsuo, of Fuyumi, all of their features mimicked in hers. Her eyes are tear-filled. He can’t watch her fall apart. He’s been trained to fix the pain in eye like these for too many years. 

He puts his hands on her knees, pressing down slightly like he would with Natsuo, and feels her shaking. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You’re alright. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Rei stares at him, lips trembling, and a tear drips down her cheek. “... Okay,” she whispers, nodding. “I–I’m so sorry. He shouldn’t have–I’m so sorry, Touya.” 

“You’re alright. I’m going to go talk to the staff, and we’re going to figure out what happened. You’re sure the letter was in your room?” he checks. 

She nods quickly. “It was in the drawer.” 

“Alright. I’ll see who has access, and we’ll go from there. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He stands up, turning toward the door. She reaches out, taking his wrist. 

“... Thank you, Touya.”

Touya looks at her, and feels his jaw twitch. He doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t think he wants to feel anything at all. 

He decides not to.

“... You’re welcome.”

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Keigo stares at the trio of children, staring at him expectantly. 

He has no idea what he’s supposed to do with them. Should he–entertain them somehow? Juggle? Give them ice cream? 

“... So, uh. What do you guys even like?” he asks. “Do you like… toys?” 

“We’re fifteen. Not five,” Bakugo says flatly. 

“Uhhh… cool. Yep. So… not toys. Video games? Do you want–video games?” he checks. 

Shouto huffs a laugh. “I think we can take care of ourselves for a few hours, Hawks,” he says. 

“Great. If you, uh. Need something. I’m here,” he says. “Pretty sure there’s like two more boxes of mochi in the freezer if you want them.” 

Shouto perks up, trotting to the freezer. 

“It’s like eight in the goddamn morning, Icyhot, absolutely not,” Bakugo barks, picking him up around the waist to spin him around. Shouto fully liquidates in his arms, and Bakugo cusses, suddenly struggling to hold him up. “What the–are you a goddamn cat? The fuck are you doing?” 

“Evasive maneuvers,” Shouto answers, wiggling out of his arms deftly. He makes another break for the freezer, and Midoriya swoops around to toss him over a shoulder with a bright laugh. 

“Kacchan’s right, Shou! It’s too early for mochi!” he says. 

Shit. Is it too early for mochi? Keigo pauses in his path to the freezer. He redirects to the sink, deciding to wash the dishes from breakfast. It gets his gloves uncomfortably wet, but at least Touya won’t have to deal with them when he gets home. 

When he’s done, he sits down back in the blanket fort, watching on the big screen as Shouto trots around his Animal Crossing island. “... So, what’s the point of this game, anyway?” he asks. 

“Well, you’re a human, and you go to this island? And you’re a villager,” Midoriya starts, looking up from his blue and red switch with a golden-age All Might skin. “And you get a house loan, and you can collect things like bugs, and fish, and stones and things. And then you can also decorate your house, and sell things, and pay off your house loan.” He hums, like he’s thinking. “Oh! You can cross-breed flowers, too–” 

“It’s a shitty ass game and you’re always in debt to a damn raccoon,” Bakugo snarls, clicking irritably at his own silver-age All Might themed switch. “Icyhot, I’m coming to your island. I need more oranges for my orchard.” 

“Okay,” Shouto says agreeably. “... See if you can get Angus to leave. He’s my least favorite villager,” he adds in a mumble. 

Keigo watches, amused to see Katsuki’s little character appear on the screen, running after a bull character with a net, smacking him repeatedly. 

“Die,” he mutters. 

“Kacchan, you can’t kill things in this game,” Midoriya says, laughing. “I’m gonna come over, too, Shou–I’m bringing some flowers and coconuts.” 

“Romance isn’t dead after all,” Keigo intones. 

Midoriya turns bright red. “Oh–I–no–I wasn’t!! I was just–” 

Shouto hums. “Thanks, Izuku,” he says easily. 

He watches Midoriya’s little character run across the screen, skidding to a stop to drop off stack after stack of coconuts and flowers in front of Shouto’s little character. Bakugo’s character sprints into view, smacks him with a net, then runs away. 

“Heh,” Bakugo chuckles. 

“Kacchan! I’m trying to give Shou stuff right now, knock it off!” 

A pause. 

Thwack. 

“... Heh.” 

“Kacchan!” 

“Oh, no,” Shouto murmurs, leaning back as Midoriya launches over him to tackle Bakugo. 

“Oh, no,” Keigo echoes, hearing one of the books holding up the blankets fall over. He rolls out of the blanket fort as it starts to collapse, leaving Shouto to get buried. He’ll probably be fine. Probably. He sighs, watching the blankets tangle around for a moment. “... Can you–stop for a sec. Let me untangle you,” he says, reaching over to yank at the blanket. “Jesus. You’re worse than toddlers. Touya was right, I think I’d rather the villains.” 

Shouto’s head pops up from the mess of blankets, hair messy. “Ah,” he says, blinking. “I should have seen that coming,” he muses. 

“Probably,” Keigo agrees. He hears a knock on the door, and glances over. “Free your boyfriends. I’ll see who that is.” 

“They’re not my… Yeah, okay,” he says quietly, grabbing at the blankets to try to free his not-boyfriends. Keigo walks over to the door, pulling it open. 

Fuyumi shifts awkwardly. “Oh! Hi, Hawks,” she says, biting her lip. “I didn’t–expect you. Is–Is Touya here?” she asks. 

Keigo shakes his head. “No, he left to go see your mother. Shou’s inside with the other two little monsters, though. Do you want to come in?” he asks, tilting his head. 

She looks past him, almost with trepidation. “I… maybe not,” she says uncertainly. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” 

Keigo frowns. “No, I’m not sure. I can text him?” 

Fuyumi pauses, like she’s thinking. 

“... You could also text him, you know. He won’t mind,” he says gently. “He’s not mad, you know. I don’t think anyone’s really mad at you. They’re just… overwhelmed.” 

She crosses her arms. “Well… maybe I’m just–worried,” she says, her voice a little flat. She looks away. 

Keigo blinks, looking her over again. She’s twitchy, her fingers tapping against her arms, her toe tapping against the patio. It’s–a little weird. Fuyumi is usually in motion, but she’s always purposeful, careful with her motions. 

“Who is it, Hawks?” Shouto calls from the hall. 

“Fuyumi,” he calls back. 

He hears footsteps approaching quickly. 

“‘Yumi,” Shouto says, leaning around Keigo’s wing to look at her. Fuyumi’s eyes snap to him, unusually focused and intense. 

“T–Shouto,” she says. “... Hi.” 

He leans back, blinking, like he’s confused, then his face clears of emotions. “Oh. You’re not ready to talk about it, then,” he says flatly. “That’s fine. But I’m not sure why you came back if you weren’t.” 

“No, I’m–we can talk about it,” she says quickly. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles. He turns around, heading back into the living room, shoulders slumped slightly. Fuyumi reaches for him, then clenches her fists, frowning. 

Fuyumi stares after him for a moment, then shakes her head. "Not yet," she mutters to herself. She runs a hand through her hair. “... Can we talk outside for a minute, Hawks?” she asks, sounding frustrated. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says, brow furrowing. “I’ll be right back, kids! Don’t kill each other!” He steps outside, shutting the door behind him. He follows her out toward the front of the complex, leaning against the wall next to her. “What’s up?” 

“It’s just–really hard, you know?” she asks, voice breaking slightly. “It’s really hard, and no one gets how difficult it is!” 

Keigo turns toward her, frowning. He reaches out, setting a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “... What is?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“Getting either of you alone! God, you’re always following Comet around!” Her hand comes around in a blur; he sees a flash of silver before his hand explodes in agony as she stabs a switchblade through it, pinning it against the wall like a bug. “Or he’s following you around!” He reaches for a primary feather quickly, feathers detaching to launch a counter offensive immediately. 

Still–he… hesitates. 

This is Fuyumi. ... Isn't it? He can’t hurt her, can he? 

That second of hesitation is all she needs. She cackles, a high laugh that’s so not Fuyumi, jumping away from him, and throws another knife into his shoulder, skipping back out of range. 

“Stand down, Hawks,” a familiar voice says, low and soft. “Good work, Toga,” Crush says. His feathers return, his body relaxing against his will despite the blood dripping from his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Keigo asks. Stand down. Stand down. It just means he can’t fight. It doesn’t mean he has to stay here. He can–leave, right? Does he have to stay here? He’ll have to be fast, before she can command something else of him. He drops a number of feathers, scattering them across the hall. 

Fuyumi starts to melt away, turning into a small blonde girl with bright yellow eyes, grinning. “Hi, Mr. Bird! You look so much prettier in red!” she says, leaning forward. “Your hero costume should be red!” 

“We’re picking you up, I guess. We were supposed to get the other one, but you’ll work. He’ll show up for you,” Crush says, bored. “Call it an errand. Text Chell, Toga.” 

“I don’t have my phone,” she whines. “Changing with clothes on is like, super hard!” 

Crush sighs, annoyed. “Fine.” She pulls out her own phone, sending a text. The second she looks away, Keigo makes his move. He has to get the children. They’re trying to get to Touya somehow, so he has to get them, too, and get out. They’ll make just as good bait as he would. Better, even. He rips his hand away from the wall in a sharp motion, slams his hands over his ears, and bolts for the door. He almost makes it. He does. If he could hear, he would have–he would have been able to hear the portal appearing, the slight warbling woosh as it rips into existence. If he weren’t distracted by the blood dripping from his hand into his ear, he would have seen it, if he weren’t filled with terror at the idea of losing Shouto to these people, if he weren’t so frazzled by the fact that he’d hesitated … 

But he is. And he does not see the portal appear. 

So he falls straight into it, his vision whirling in a confusing spin as he abruptly turns at a ninety degree angle, his knees slamming into a rough concrete floor. His wings snap out to catch him, to try to flutter and drag him back out before he can fall fully in, and only succeed in tangling him further, crumpling against the edges of the portal with a series of crunches and cracks as the quills snap against the unforgiving edges. 

He looks up into the eyes of Chell, smirking down at him.

Chapter Text

Touya’s arguing with the hospital staff when Shouto calls him. Apparently no one had been in or out of his mother’s room that wasn’t staff. They had cameras in the hall, and they would look through them, but Touya wasn’t allowed to have access to any of them for confidentiality. So, he was at a dead end for being able to help. It was… frustrating, to say the least. 

He stalks away, answering the phone. “Yeah, what’s up, Shou?” he asks. 

“You need to get home,” Shouto says without preamble. 

Touya breaks into a run immediately. “Why? What’s wrong?” 

“Hawks. He’s–I think someone took him?” he says uncertainly. “He went to answer the door, and Fuyumi was there. He went outside to talk to her, and he was outside for a while–too long. I went out to check on him, and there was blood, and a few feathers.” 

Blood. And a few feathers.

No time to feel anything about that; he has to make sure Shouto and his friends are safe. Lock that shit down right now. He takes all of the emotions that are boiling up in his chest and slams them down ruthlessly, locks them down under a barely-closed door, and takes a breath. 

“I’m coming home. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Get inside and lock the door. Right now,” he demands. “Don’t answer the door for anyone, and call me if anyone knocks, or if anything goes wrong. All three of you share your locations to me, and keep your phones with you at all times.” 

“Got it,” Shouto says quickly. He repeats the instructions. “How far out are you?” 

“Twenty-five minutes max. I’m running.” He looks around. “Did you pick up any of the feathers?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Two of them,” he says. “I–I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. But…” 

“It was a great idea,” Touya replies. He’s running as hard as he can, and his breath is coming a little short. He wonders if he can steal a bike or something to get there faster. There’s a bike rental on almost every corner in this part of the city, isn’t there? There!–he dives for it, grabbing for his credit card with one hand to slap it against the machine. He unhooks the bike, leaping onto it to push off. “Got a bike. Ten minutes. Keep ahold of those feathers. Hawks can feel them. We might be able to–communicate somehow. Figure out where he is.” 

“Okay,” Shouto says quietly.

“Shou, I need to call someone. I’m going to have to hang up for a sec. Are you going to be okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Do what you need to do,” he says quickly, in the way that means he’s not checking to see if he’s actually fine at all. 

“Give the phone to Bakugo for a moment,” Touya says. 

“... wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, what’s up, Charlie McGee?” Bakugo barks, sounding terse. Fuck, he’s definitely about to snap under the pressure. Damn hero kids. 

Touya blinks. “Is that–a Firestarter joke?” he asks, barking out a laugh.

“Fuck off, what do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” he starts off. “That you’re both in this. I know you want to protect them both, and I’m telling you right now that if you have to, do it. But only if you goddamn have to, do you understand me?” he says firmly. He needs to remind Bakugo that he’s just a kid, and that he doesn’t have to take on the damn world, otherwise he and Midoriya are going to go try to find Keigo themselves, and that’s going to break him, if he has to go find Keigo and Shou and his boyfriends. “Let them help you if you have to defend yourselves, and make sure Shou keeps his head on his shoulders.” 

A beat of silence. “... Fuck. Thanks. Yeah, I will.” 

“Alright. Midoriya, next,” he says, taking a deep wheezing breath, because fuck this is a lot of talking while he’s pedaling for all he’s worth on this shitty bike. He’s in pretty good shape, but goddamn. 

“Touya?” Midoriya asks. His voice is shaking slightly. Goddamn these kids and their stupid way of getting into his heart. He hates ‘em all. 

“It’s alright, kid. Cry it out,” he says, chanting they’re just fucking kids, they’re just fucking kids, in his head. He’s so goddamn angry someone made his kids scared like this. “I’ll be there soon.” 

He hears the first sniffle. “Okay. We’ll be fine.” 

“Damn right, nerd,” Bakugo says. 

Touya hangs up, then clicks in a number he never expected to need. 

“Hello!” The voice almost bursts out his ear drums. He winces, swerving around a car that almost knocks him over. 

“Fuck, loud!” he complains. 

“Oh–Comet? I’m sorry! I didn’t expect you to call me! What can I help you with?”

“Hawks,” he says. The words stick in his throat for a moment. Fuck. Keigo is gone. Somewhere. Someone has him. He slams down on the door holding back that breakdown. He clears his throat. “Hawks has been kidnapped,” he says flatly. “Meet me at this address immediately, All Might,” he says, rattling off his address. “Bring backup.” 

He hears a woosh of air, and he hopes that’s All Might flying or whatever the fuck he does to be so fast. “On the way,” he says firmly. 

“My brother and his friends are in apartment 201. If you get there first, call me. They won’t answer the door for you, but I’ll check on them.” 

He hangs up. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya hates his memory. It’s useful, sometimes, but most of the time? 

He just has to remember things he doesn’t want to. 

He hates that he’ll never be able to forget this–the sight of this knife, embedded into the wall, with Keigo’s blood dripping from it. The splatter where he clearly ripped his–hand? Arm?–from it, and tried to run. The trail of blood. The loose feathers where he dropped them. Touya kneels down, picking one up. It’s long. Maybe a greater secondary. 

Touya’s never really been one for birds, but he has, perhaps, been one for Keigo for quite a while. He’s looked into wings. He’s learned about them, learned the different parts of the wing, how to care for them. He’s not entirely sure normal bird wing care applies to Keigo’s wings, but he thinks knowing anything is better than knowing nothing at all. He stares at the long feather. It’s firmer than regular feathers and has a slightly metallic sheen. The feathery barbs are soft, but not quite as soft as a normal bird feather would be–he can feel the fibers where it can turn sharp in an instant, if Keigo were here to make it do so. 

He runs his finger along the spine of it, and wonders if Keigo can feel it. He glances around. All Might is inside, with Shouto, Midoriya, and Bakugo. Tsukauchi is on the way. He’s alone in this hallway. He lifts the feather to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. 

“I’m going to find you,” he whispers fiercely. “Just hold on, Keigo. I’ll be there soon.” 

He hopes Keigo can hear it. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Keigo’s wings are gone. 

Tenko turned most of his wings to dust the second he arrived in this shitty dive bar. He thinks he still has a few of his axillars, but all he feels along where his wings should be is agony, so he really can’t be sure. Toga came through the portal and sliced through his wings to keep him from “crumbling all the way to dust!” 

The thought of decaying from the back in is– 

Well. 

He’s been refusing to think about that too hard. 

The way Keigo can see, hear, and feel through his wings is–complicated. They’re almost like additional limbs, each feather, another limb, another awareness, another extension of his mind that allows him to be everywhere at once, that allows him to be Hawks. 

And oh, how he wants to be Hawks so badly right now, but he just can’t. He can’t find that distance from the situation, not when he’s so angry, not when he’s without his wings, not when he’s so worried about Shouto and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Touya. 

He’s pretending, though. He’s pretending really well, he thinks. 

Tenko is sitting in front of him, lounging lazily across the ground, holding his phone. 

“You and Touya text a lot,” he says. 

Keigo subtly pulls against the ropes around his wrists, trying to see if he can loosen them. “Obviously,” he drawls. “Boyfriends are supposed to talk to each other. From what I hear, you were pretty shitty at that.” 

Tenko snorts. “Touya isn’t all that interesting to talk to,” he counters. His brow furrows, though, and he keeps scrolling, presumably reading more of their conversations. Most of their private conversations were over phone calls. Touya never called him Keigo over text–he knew it was too risky, so there’s not much for Tenko to gain from reading these. 

Still. It burns to have him scroll through their conversations, eyes critical. 

“For someone uninterested in what he has to say, you sure are reading a lot of what he’s said,” Keigo taunts, wiggling his ankle. Sometimes, when he gets tied up, they don’t think to bond his ankles tightly enough–it’s a common mistake since his ankles are too small, his feet too narrow. No dice here, though–Chell took joy in tying him up tightly. He’s been wiggling enough that the blood from his shoulder has dripped down to his wrist; he might be able to work with that. 

“It’s called gathering intel, idiot,” Tenko says irritably. “I’m reading all of your messages. All you two talk about is food. And his brothers.” 

“That’s not true. Sometimes we talk about his sister,” Keigo says, smirking. 

Suddenly, he feels–something. It’s distant, dim, but he feels it. A soft vibration in a feather. He’d recognize it anywhere, maybe just because he’d recognize him anywhere. Touya’s fingers running across an unbroken feather. He feels lips press to it and hears a soft voice, deep and rife with emotion. 

“I’m going to find you. Just hold on, Keigo. I’ll be there soon.”

Keigo closes his eyes for just a second, letting it reassure him. Letting the sound of Touya bolster him. Touya will find him, and together, they’ll get out of this. He doesn’t have to worry anymore. He feels a foot brace against the side of the chair and opens his eyes just in time to see everything start to tilt. 

“Get that stupid look off of your face,” Tenko says, watching as he hits the ground. Keigo is sure he had a briefly relaxed look on his face; maybe something even close to besotted. He was never the best at looking at looking anything less when thinking about Touya. 

Keigo groans. “... Not sure what look you mean,” he manages. His shoulder hurts like a motherfucker now, having taken the brunt of the landing to avoid hitting his head. A renewed stream of blood drips down from the stab wound. If Tenko sits him back up, that’ll probably help, actually. 

“Pretty sure you know exactly what I mean,” he mutters. He does, but still. “Ugh. Not sure why I have to watch you.” He scrolls through the phone a little bit farther, then makes an annoyed little noise in his throat. “... Shouto has a crush?” he mutters to himself. “Thought that little brat didn’t like anyone but himself.” 

Keigo sees red for a moment. “Don’t talk about him,” he hisses. 

Tenko spins around, a grin splitting across his face. “Oh? Is that the line? Talking about the brats?” he asks, sounding pleased. He kneels down. “Is that where your weak spot is? Maybe I should have asked them to grab Shouto while they were out. See if they could grab the other two useless ones, too. I don’t even remember their names. Natsuki? Fuyuko?” He smirks. “See if we could get a nice little reception together for when Touya gets here.”

“Why do you want Touya to come here?” Keigo bites out. 

Tenko snorts. “Well, it’s not so much Touya we want, but he’ll show up with the right people to make sure he can get you back. If we had grabbed him, you would have shown up with the right people to get him back. You’re both pretty predictable! You were pretty helpful in getting the players we needed maneuvered into place, though! Thanks for that, by the way!” He cackles, loud and sharp. “I guess you can sit up, since you’ve been such a valuable game piece, Hawks.” He grabs him by the hair, jerking him upward in a four-fingered grip. It hurts, but Keigo is quiet, glaring at him as he’s dragged awkwardly upward. Tenko braces the chair leg with his feet to keep it from dragging so he can haul him upward. He leans in to look at him. “You brought some new players onto the case.” 

Fourth Kind. Fatgum. He’d even reached out to Eraserhead, though he wasn’t sure if he had reached back out, yet. And–All Might. 

All Might? 

His brow furrows. 

“Oh, did you figure it out?” he asks, delighted. “You might not be stupid after all!” 

“Stop talking to him,” Crush snaps, irritated, as she comes up from the stairs. “Why not just tell him all of our plans? Write them all out in a nice list, so if he escapes or if something goes wrong, he’ll have a detailed itinerary for the heroes?”

“You think we’ll fail?” Tenko challenges, raising his brows. 

“We’ve had terrible luck so far,” she shoots back immediately. “You underestimate Comet. It’s to your detriment.” 

“I estimate him just fine,” he says, waving a hand. “Where’s Chell?” 

Crush glances down at Keigo, pursing her lips. “... Out. Mend will be here soon.” 

Tenko cackles. “Did you really send your girlfriend away so you could fuck your sidepiece?” he asks. 

“Punch yourself in the face,” she snaps. 

Tenko punches himself in the face, hard. “Fuck!” He launches at her immediately, hand open and reaching for her throat. 

“Stop moving.” 

He freezes mid-lunge, hissing through his teeth. 

“Are you done?” She tilts her head, waiting for a count of ten, before she inclines her head toward him and his body relaxes. 

“I’ll fucking kill you if you ever do that again,” he hisses. “I’ll decay your throat so you choke to death on your own blood.” 

“We’ll see who’s faster. I can Command your heart to stop beating, Shimura,” she says, eyes narrowed. 

Tenko’s grin widens. “Do it, then. Right now.” He stalks over to her, and seizes her throat in a four-fingered hold. “Go on. Command me, Crush. You can’t, can you?” 

She stares at him, her eyes flinty. 

“I thought not.” He leans in, whispering something in her ear. 

Keigo watches the interaction, rapt. Why can’t she command him again? Is she hurt? He remembers slicing her on the way to Comet; did that shorten what she was able to do? Or has she always had a limit of some kind? How long did it last? If she had gotten him once, did that mean she could only get him one more time? If the limit was two? Or was it something in the size of the command she gave? Or was she at an overall limit for the day? He wasn't sure. 

He twists his wrist a little more, feeling the blood work in between his wrist and the rope, letting him slide his left hand out a few more centimeters. He focuses, looking for his feathers. He thinks he dropped a number of them in his desperation, half hoping he would be able to use them, half hoping that someone could use them to find him–he can sense a few of them, in various locations. Something to focus on in more depth later, when he has less to focus on here in front of him. 

He looks back to his phone, clutched in Tenko’s hand, his index finger lifted. His location should still be on, shared to Touya’s phone. He shares his location over every time they’re apart, now. A force of habit. If Tenko hadn’t thought to turn it off… 

“Honey, I’m home!” a voice calls from just outside the door, followed by a short knock. The voice is… almost familiar. 

Crush’s eyes flicker to the door, then away. “Come in, Mend,” she calls calmly. 

The door opens, and ‘Mend’ walks in, followed by a man in black and white that Keigo thinks could be ‘Twice’, and the young girl Crush called Toga. 

‘Mend’ is young, with long pink hair twisted back from his face, and bright red eyes with pupils in the shape of crosses. Keigo remembers his eyes clearly from when he looked into them and threatened him after he saved Touya’s life. 

Keigo’s eyes narrow, looking him over. 

He looks perfectly at ease, wearing a black button up vest that shows entirely too much of his body and black jeans. It’s January for Christ’s sake. Isn’t he cold? He’s wearing a fucking choker. Is this his shitty villain persona? 

Tenko breaks out into laughter. “You should see your face,” he says, pointing at Keigo. “Oh, that’s good. You look like Chell. What, do you two know each other?” he asks, his grin sharpening into something dangerous. 

Mend grins. “Of course we do. I’m a paramedic in the city. I told you that,” he says easily. “I’ve patched him and his little boyfriend up a few times after you guys have knocked them over. It’s unavoidable. Isn’t that right… oh, what does he call you? It’s a really cute nickname… Birdie?” 

“Tssssssssk!” Keigo chides, clanking his teeth together around a hiss. “Don’t make fun of him, you goddamn traitor,” he snaps. He doesn’t have to play up his rage much. He’s not entirely sure whether or not Kusakabe is playing Crush and their crew or Keigo and Touya’s, but if there’s a chance he could be an ally? Keigo isn’t going to out him. He can play the jaded, jealous boyfriend. He’s already feeling it, hard. Every word out of Tenko’s mouth is a brand, burning his skin. It only takes a little bit of a nudge to redirect those feelings. 

Tenko cackles.

“Hahaha! That’s funny!” Twice makes obnoxious kissy noises at Toga, who makes them back, and they both burst into laughter. 

“Hawks and Comet, sitting in a tree!” 

“One fell out, and broke his wing!” Twice sings back. 

Toga howls with laughter, falling against his side. 

Crush pinches the bridge of her nose. “Mend,” she says, sounding tired. “Will you just come with me? We have matters to discuss.” 

“Of course,” he says, bowing his head slightly. He steps over to follow her, then pauses, glancing over at Keigo. His eyes fall on Keigo’s wrist, then back up to his shoulder. “... Do you want me to do any healing on him? He’s probably going to pass out from blood loss if I don’t,” he says dryly. “Not sure if you want a dead hostage when Comet gets here. Might kill your bargaining chip.” 

“Doesn’t really matter if he’s dead or alive. We just need All Might in the building,” Tenko says with a lazy shrug. 

“If Comet comes in the building alone and sees Hawks dead, he’s just going to burn the place down with anyone who’s in it,” Mend says with a shrug. 

Crush spins on her heel, looking at him with confused and slightly alarmed eyes, her hand skimming up toward her jaw where her mostly healed burn lingered. “Tell the truth. Why do you think that?” she demands. 

Mend grimaces. “Because Touya Todoroki is fucking insane?” he answers immediately. “If you get close to him, really close, and look in his eyes–which I’ve had to do to treat him–you can see it. It’s just there, in his eyes. He hides it pretty well, but when you’ve lived as long as I have, when you’ve gone off the deep end a few times like I have? You learn to see when people are a step or two from doing the same thing. Touya’s one of those people. You kill the man he’s in love with, and he’s taking a fucking swan dive off the deep end and taking anyone he can with him,” he answers, the words vomiting out of him. He runs a hand over his mouth, like he can force some of the words back in. “... I really wish you wouldn’t do that to me. I’ve never lied to you, have I? Even without your Quirk?” he asks, a deep frown on his lips. 

Crush looks away, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers. “I wouldn’t know, would I?” she asks flatly. She looks over to Keigo, eyes narrowed in thought. “... Answer truthfully for the next five questions. Is Mend correct in his assessment?” she asks. 

Keigo feels his jaw loosen, answering without his permission. “... Yes,” he croaks. He wants to stop there–he doesn’t want to say any more, but the Quirk seems to demand that the entire truth be spoken. “Well, almost. He’ll make damn sure every single person responsible for it is dead first. It’s not the building that would need to go. It would be you,” he says, his eyes meeting hers. “Touya wouldn’t be concerned with taking just anyone with him. He would take the people that hurt me down, and anyone who got in his way. He’s not a mindless murderer.” 

Mend huffs a laugh. “You make him sound like a horseman of the apocalypse,” he says. “An inevitability.”

“For you?” Keigo asks, grinning. “If you let me die here? He would be.” 

“... Four more questions,” Crush says, narrowing her eyes. 

“Does Touya know where you are?” Tenko asks. 

Keigo hums, prodding at the Quirk. How truthful does truthful have to be? “I don’t know,” he says. “There are several ways he might know where I am, but I’m not sure if he knows, at this current moment, where I am.” He prods at the Quirk again. That seems to have satisfied the restrictions of it. Three questions left. 

Tenko glares. “That didn’t answer what I asked.” 

“It did, actually,” Crush says impatiently. “You have to be specific. ” 

Toga hops forward like she’s going to ask a question, and Crush puts a hand over her mouth. “Think before you ask,” she says firmly. “If you ask, it ticks our question down no matter what.” 

“It’s a good one!” Toga objects, muffled. Crush moves her hand. “Besides, you can just command him again, can’t you?” 

“No, I can’t–that’s not what my Quirk does,” Keigo answers, grinning. It counts, to his delight. The wording of the command was to answer truthfully for the next five questions–not that they had to be aimed at him. He feels the Quirk hold, and then release. 

Toga looks at him in horror, and Crush sighs deeply. 

“Do you have an escape plan?” Twice blurts out. “Shut up, idiot! Don’t waste questions!” 

“No, that wasn’t–terrible.” 

“No,” Keigo answers, brow furrowing. “I have several escape plans, and I’m waiting to see which will work best. You’re all terrible at keeping a hostage, and I want to learn as much as I can before I inevitably escape, or get rescued,” he says. 

… Okay, slightly more than he wanted to say, but not overall terrible. 

One more question. 

Mend steps forward, grinning. “I have one,” he says, leaning forward. He leans down, grabbing Keigo by the chin, and leans in close. “What’s your legal name, Hawks?” he whispers in his ear, too low for anyone else to hear. 

Fuck. 

Probably not an ally, then.

Can he whisper the answer back? Does that count? He barely breathes the answer, hoping not even Mend can hear it. “Keigo Takami.” It counts. 

Mend leans back, his grin so wide it looks like it hurts. Shit, he heard. “Oh, good! I love solving mysteries,” he says, sounding delighted. 

“What did you ask him?” Crush demands. 

“Nothing important,” he says with a roll of his shoulders. “I asked him something about Comet, but the answer wasn’t all that interesting. Just a little mystery that’s been bothering me.” 

“Why did you waste the question, then?” she snaps. Crush exhales harshly. “Whatever. Heal him. Just enough that he won’t bleed out.” 

“Your wish is my Command,” he says, bowing at the waist. She turns and stalks off down the stairs. 

Mend turns back to Keigo, leaning forward to press a hand against his shoulder. He presses hard against the wound, sending a shock of pain down his arm. 

“Fuck!” Keigo hisses. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Healing you, obviously. What, did you expect it not to hurt?” 

“It didn’t hurt Comet when you did it,” he grumbles.

“Comet was unconscious. Of course it hurt,” he says, snorting. “My Quirk hurts a lot. There’s a reason I don’t use it often.” He smirks slightly. “Isn’t that right, Twice? Doesn’t my Quirk hurt like a motherfucker?” he calls. 

Twice makes a waving motion. “Oh, yeah! Hurts a lot! Only if you’re a pussy!” 

Keigo blinks at him. Is he–lying right now? He’s positive his Quirk didn’t hurt Touya. Did he tell this group of villains that his healing Quirk hurt just to? What? Fuck with them? Or was it to make them not make him use his Quirk often? 

He spins back toward a potential ally again, confused. 

“Alright, that’s your shoulder. I’m gonna get your hand, too, because there’s a ton of fiddly little veins in hands. Don’t be tempted to hold hands with me, now, you’re spoken for,” he says with a little wink. He kneels down, taking Keigo’s hand, and there’s another spike of pain. And then–he feels the ropes loosen slightly. Just a little. Just enough that he could work out of them, with a little bit of time. He also feels something cylindrical and cool press into his newly healed hand. 

As he stands back up, Mend pauses next to his head. “Wait for Touya to arrive, Takami,” he murmurs, voice barely above a breath. “Then give ‘em hell.” 

He spins around, throwing his hands out. “Alrighty, who’s next?” he asks grandly. 

Twice bounds over. “I have a scrape!” he says. “Don’t touch me, you quack! Can I still get a bandaid with a cool character on it if you heal it? I don’t need any of that kiddy shit!” 

“Twice, that’s not a scrape–you have three broken ribs,” Mend says, exasperated, running his hand along Twice’s side. 

“Ohhh, yeah, that makes sense! I’m fine!” He hops up onto the bar, leaning back to grab a bottle of something, and rolls up the bottom of his mask to tip it back. “Lay it on me!” 

Tenko sits back down in front of Keigo, crossing his legs, eyes narrowed at his phone. And then he starts typing on it.

“What are you doing?” Keigo asks sharply. 

“Texting Touya,” Tenko says, smirking. “Thought it’d be fun.” 

He hears the answering sound immediately, a woosh that reminds him of a space noise, like a little comet. 

Tenko laughs. “And it is! He’s so mad!”

Keigo closes his eyes, and tries to focus on the feathers he can feel. He focuses through Tenko heckling him, through Twice talking to himself. He can sense a total of six feathers. Two of them are with Touya–he can tell immediately. He knows what Touya feels like against his feathers, the exact warmth, the exact way his voice sounds vibrating through them. 

Another one of them is in a cool palm with long fingers of two different temperatures that are worrying through the barbs; Shouto must have this one. 

Another is in a damp hand, held too tight, one wrong move from snapping the shaft of the feather. Bakugo must have this one–he can feel a faster heart rate through his skin that he assumes comes with the nitroglycerin in his blood. 

Another is in a dry, calloused hand. He can hear the scratching of a pencil next to it, and a constant stream of mumbling–if he listens through the other two feathers, he can hear it distantly. This must be Midoriya’s. They’re alive. They’re okay. Did Touya give them each a feather so Keigo would know they were okay? Or did Shouto take them? 

More importantly, if he can feel them with this level of clarity, it means they’re close. Within four kilometers or so. That narrows down where he is drastically.

He wonders if he can move any of them–normally he can’t move them unless he’s within a kilometer of them, even if he can sense them much further with diminishing clarity. He feels for the last one. He doesn’t recognize who it’s with at first. He has the feeling that he’s somewhere… tall, maybe? There’s wind against the feather, anyway. He can’t place who it is until he hears the voice boom out–

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

“Comet, I need you to calm down and think, we still don’t know exactly where they’re located,” All Might insists. 

Touya is very calm. 

He is very calm, and he is very aware of the exact situation they are in. He clicks off his mic, steps off of the street into a side alley, bends over at the waist, and lets out an unholy scream that scrapes his throat raw, because otherwise, he’s going to burn All Might to ash for suggesting he calm down for the fourth time when it’s been five goddamn hours since Keigo went missing, since Tensei woke up in his apartment with a bloody forehead and a stab wound with Fuyumi nowhere in sight, since he realized his sister was missing, since–

Touya is very fucking calm. 

Eraserhead drops in the alley in front of him. “Hey,” he says. His voice is low, gravelly, and calm. 

“Hey,” Touya replies flatly. His voice cracks. 

“I’d ask how you’re doing, but I think we both know the answer to that. If you need a minute, take it,” he says, frowning at him. 

“If I’m not looking for them, I’ll self-immolate,” Touya warns him. “Don’t try to make me take a break.” 

Eraserhead holds up his hands, his eyes flashing red immediately, almost on instinct. “I wasn’t going to. Don’t set yourself on fire. Jesus, kid.” 

Touya holds his hands up back. “Sorry. Been a day.” 

He nods, deactivating his Quirk. “I can tell. Just try not to burn out before you find them,” he says. He reaches into one of the pouches at his waist and pulls out a can and a pouch, holding them out. “Drink something and eat. We’ll keep searching. I’m going to round up some friends to help.” He uses his free hand to pull out his phone, texting someone. 

Touya takes them reluctantly, looking at them. Coffee and a jelly pouch is–definitely not nutritious, but it’s exactly what he’ll take at this moment. He wonders if Eraser knows that, somehow. He twists off the cap with his teeth, squeezing the pouch down quickly, then chugs the can of coffee. He burns the empty can and pouch to ash, just so he can burn something.

“Better?” Eraser asks. 

“No,” Touya answers. “Nothing is going to be better until I know where they are.” His phone buzzes, and he yanks it out immediately. 

Idiot Squad (Tiny Edition) 
Poprocks (Don’t Change It Kacchan, It’s Cute!) - 14:00
still okay here
<img attached> 

Bakugo’s hourly check in, then. He should get Natsuo’s shortly. Bakugo’s comes with a picture that makes the unbearable tightness in his chest loosen very slightly. Shouto is sitting on the couch, staring down at a long red feather, and Midoriya is scribbling in a notebook, his free hand twirling the feather between his fingers like a fidget toy. They’re all holding them. If Keigo can feel them, he knows they’re safe. 

His own feathers are stored safely, one against his wrist and one against his neck, right where his pulse is. Keigo should be able to feel them, and as soon as Touya’s in range, he’s hoping Keigo will be able to move them. He’s been murmuring it to the feathers periodically, hoping he can hear. 

‘Tsuo is calling . . . 

He hits the answer button immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“They found ‘Yumi,” he says, straight to the point. “She’s alive.” 

Touya sags against the alley wall. “Fuck. What happened?” 

“We don’t know. She’s not awake right now. They’ve had her in the hospital for a few hours, but she didn’t have an ID or anything, so it took them a while to track us down. They–Touya, they found her in a goddamn alley across town. Tossed aside like she was nothing,” he says, voice cracking. 

Touya looks up at the sky, glaring. He wants to rush there, but he--can't. God, he's failing Fuyumi, but he can't leave until he finds Keigo. “... Stay with her. Get Tensei, if you can. Tenya, too. I’m going to find them, and Ke–” He chokes. “Hawks. I’m going to bring him home, then I’ll be right there, alright?”

“Shou?” 

“Still fine… Bring him if you want to, too. Rhythmic is watching them. Extra security can’t go wrong in the hospital,” he mutters. 

“Alright. Don’t get hurt, Touya. I’m serious,” Natsuo says. “I can’t stand it. Not today.” 

“You know I won’t. I’ll take care of it,” he says firmly. 

“I love you,” Natsuo says, awkward and flat, uncomfortable. 

Touya shifts. He’s only spit out those words in sarcasm, and even then, only rarely; usually for Shouto. They’re not–good at this. They say everything around it, they do things that mean the same thing, but they don’t just… say it. But if Natsuo wants to try, he should try. They don’t have time to not say what they feel–today’s made that abundantly clear, hasn’t it? 

“Yeah. You, too, ‘Tsuo,” he mumbles. 

He hangs up, tucking his phone away. Eraser is staring at him intently, half tucked into his capture scarf, one brow raised. 

“They found Fuyumi,” Touya says. 

“Good,” he answers. “One down.” 

Touya stares at him, trying not to be angry at that answer. It’s pragmatic, and he needs pragmatism right now. “... One down,” he replies, gritting his teeth. 

His phone chimes, and he yanks it back out. 

Hawks - 14:12
<img attached>
thnks for letting us play with ur birdie 

The image is Keigo, tied to a chair, his t-shirt soaked with blood down the side and right arm. His head is dipped down and away, like he’s–asleep. Or unconscious. Or dead. He’s not wearing shoes, his feet only clad in socks, and he has to be cold. 

Touya - 14:12
What do you want? 

They have to want something. 

“FUCK,” he shouts, flames bursting from his free hand for a second. He flails his hand, putting them out. He holds out his phone to Eraser, who looks down at it. 

“... Ah,” he mumbles. He frowns. “He’s definitely alive.” 

Hawks - 14:13
just thought u’d want 2 c ur boyfriend! it’s been a while, no? 

Touya - 14:13
I do. Send your location so I can come see him in person. I’d like to thank you personally for your additions to his appearance. 

Hawks - 14:15
im sure u would ;)
u know im not into tht tho 

Touya - 14:15
Into what?

Hawks - 14:17
burning alive 

Touya - 14:17
Coward. 

Touya clicks on his comms. “Shimura sent a picture of Hawks,” he barks into the comms. “He’s alive, and he’s in the dive bar we can’t find. It narrows us down to that ten kilometer radius, though.” 

“We’ll find him, Comet.” All Might says reassuringly. “He’s got some sort of range on the movement he can do for his feathers, right?” 

“Yeah. One kilometer. He told me,” he says. “He should be able to hear them up to four, though. Hawks, if you can hear us, I’ve got some feathers, and All Might has one feather. We’re moving around the city. Try to move our feathers; as soon as you can, we’ll have an idea of where you are and we can narrow down the search, alright? All Might, you say the same thing a few times in different parts of the city.” 

“Got it, Comet. We’ll find him.” 

“We’ll find him,” he agrees. He clicks off his comms mic. 

“... We will find you,” he whispers, putting his fingers against the feather at his neck.

Chapter Text

Keigo figures out that the smooth cylindrical item in his hand is a syringe. He has no idea if there’s anything in it or not–he can’t risk trying to get it around to look at it. He tucks it into the waistband of his jeans, glad to feel that the needle is covered by a plastic cover, so it doesn’t stab him at least. 

“Touya’s mouthier than I remember,” Tenko comments idly. 

“Yeah, well, I imagine dating you doesn’t make one prone to being very talkative,” Keigo replies. “You seem like a bitch.” 

Tenko gets to his feet with a sigh, turning to him. “... I don’t like you,” he says slowly. He leans forward, then hauls off with a staggering backhand that makes him taste blood. 

Keigo spits onto the ground. “The feeling is decidedly mutual,” he says cheerfully. “And I can confirm that you’re a bitch, because that was definitely a bitch slap.” 

“I can use the other side of my hand, if you’d prefer,” he offers, wiggling his fingers. 

“Why don’t you untie me so we can have a real fight?” Keigo asks, grinning with all of his teeth. “I’d prefer to get my hands on you for real. I think that’d be fun, don’t you, Tenko?” 

He snickers. “I don’t play games I’m going to lose, Hawks.” 

“You’re already playing a game you’re going to lose,” Keigo tells him. “Kidnapping me is a game you’re going to lose, one way or another. Either Touya kills you, which will be fun to watch, or I kill you, which will be fun to do, or All Might captures you, which I suppose will be fun to see. You rotting in prison is a good door prize, y’know?” 

“Killing people isn’t exactly heroic, you know?” Tenko says, rocking back on his heels. “Aren’t you and Touya supposed to be heroes?” 

“Sure. And we are,” he says lightly. He smiles. “But you’re planning on killing me, aren’t you?” 

“Mmm. Probably.” 

“Then Touya won’t have a choice,” he says easily. “And if it’s him or you? Well, that’s not a choice at all for me.” 

Tenko smirks. “You know, I think he likes me more than you think he does,” he says, lounging back. 

“You’re delusional.” 

Keigo reaches out for his feathers again. He’s been reaching out every ten minutes or so, trying to move them since Touya and All Might told him to. He feels for them, reaching for the two in Touya’s suit, the one All Might is holding, and pulls. 

Two of them move. 

He feels it–feels the two in Touya’s suit shift slightly under his command. 

“Wait. Again, c’mon, again.”

Keigo pulls on them again, shifting them closer to Touya’s skin, a gentle caress. 

“Fuck! Okay, alright, Birdie, I felt it. One kilometer, right? Move again if the answer is yes.”

He moves the feathers again. 

“Alright. Same idea. Move for yes, nothing for no. Do you remember the list of bars we had?” 

He does. He shifts the feathers. 

“Are you in one of those bars?” 

Fuck. He doesn’t know. He shifts one of the feathers, the one by his wrist, a little bit uncertainly. 

“... That wasn’t a yes,” Touya mumbles. “... Wasn’t a no, either. Maybe? Portal Quirk. You wouldn’t know, would you? Is that an ‘I don’t know?’”

He shifts the feathers, feeling a pulse of pride that Touya immediately understood what he meant–he’s so smart. He blinks, focusing back along the bar. Is there anything he can do to help? 

“So, Tenko,” Keigo drawls, watching him tap away on his phone. He looks irritated. He must not be getting a response anymore. 

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps. “You don’t know me well enough.” 

“Oh? I didn’t hear you telling Touya not to call you that, and you seemed pretty sure he didn’t know you well enough, either. Were you lying to him?” he asks, smirking. “You know, I’m pretty sure it’s not him that likes you more than it seems.” 

Tenko flashes a look at him, glaring. “You wanna shut up now,” he warns. 

Keigo smirks. “Is that your weak spot, Tenko? Liking Touya? That’s fair; he gets under your skin, doesn’t he? It’s unexpected, isn’t it? He seems so prickly at first, like he’s bothered by you breathing near him. But the second he smiles at you, it’s all over, isn’t it?” 

Tenko makes an angry noise in the back of his throat, lunging toward him. He grabs his throat, gripping it with four fingers. “I don’t give a shit if you’re a necessary player, I will kill you,” he hisses. 

“Why? Am I figuring out too many of your secrets?” he asks, glaring up at him. No one else is in the room–Mend, Toga, and Twice have long moved downstairs. 

“Try to call this feather toward you,” Touya’s voice hums. 

He splits his focus between Tenko and the feather, pulling on it for all he’s worth. Maybe he can pull it toward him. He yanks, and feels it zip closer–it’s hard to direct. He feels it hit something; a wall, maybe. 

“Sorry, Birdie. Building. Here, this way?” Touya’s voice murmurs, gently redirecting him around the flat surface with gentle hands. He pulls again. 

“It’s not secrets. It’s lies,” Tenko spits. 

“To yourself, maybe. Why else would you hole up in this bar in the middle of nowhere just to get away from him? You ran as far out of the city as you could just so you wouldn’t have to see him!” he baits. 

“You think we’re in the middle of nowhere? You’re stupider than you look,” he snaps. 

They’re in the city, then. Even when Touya finds him, they’ll need to evac the area; there’ll be potential casualties. Fuck. 

His feather hits another building, and he definitely feels like he’s in a city. It’s irritating–he can’t really see with his feathers, not really; he can feel, hear, and kind of maneuver, but normally he can see by using his eyes to get a lay of the land and then use that to maneuver the area by sound and feel afterwards. With split focus, he’s navigating like a drunken fool. He sends a mental apology to Touya, letting Touya redirect him again. 

“Then you’re just avoiding him because you… what? Don’t want to give yourself the chance of seeing him? Sounds pretty much like denial to me,” he chirps. “No, really, it works out for me; you bother the shit out of him. Although, I will say, relaxing him afterwards is pretty fun,” he says, smirking. He’s pushing, hard. He’s trying to get a rise out of him, see if he can get him to make enough noise and get someone else to come back out. He needs more information before Touya gets here, something he can give them whenever they break in to rescue him. Or maybe just so he can get them all in one room so it’s easier for the heroes to take them out when they burst in the door.  

Tenko stares at him, his pupils narrowing down to pinpricks. “... You and him,” he says slowly. 

Keigo’s grin widens, and he feels a little dribble of blood from his torn cheek drip down the corner of his lips. He bets it looks pretty macabre. Badass, probably. 

“I think we found it. I think this is it. I see a bar, and it’s on the list. I’m going to have an undercover walk past and say the phrase ‘I’m going to be late again, Kakeru.’ Move the feather if you hear it.” His voice is shaking, and Keigo bets it’s killing him to not just slam the door in, fires blazing. He can hear All Might talking, but he’s ignoring that one–that’s not important when Touya is talking. 

“Me and him,” he agrees, raising his brows. “Touya’s damn good, by the way.” 

“... Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know! I’m sorry, I’m going to be late again, Kakeru,” someone says in a loud voice as they walk past the door. “It sucks ass! Working late…” 

Keigo moves the feather in an enthusiastic little circle. 

Tenko’s grip tightens. “... Why would I give a damn?” he asks. 

“I dunno. Why would you?” he asks. 

“Give us ten minutes. Ten minutes, Kei.” 

Ten minutes. He can make ten minutes work. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya’s losing his goddamn mind. He’s staring at the building Keigo is in, but they won’t let him go in. 

Not yet, they keep saying. They’re evacuating civilians. 

They have to make sure the area is secure. 

They have to check and see if there are any lookouts. 

They have to–

Blah blah. He knows the protocol. 

Fuck the protocol. He gives them ten minutes, and he’s going in with or without them and leaving his license in Eraser’s hands on the way if he has to. They agree to make ten minutes work, because he guesses they don’t want him to die. 

The second they hit minute ten, Touya’s already halfway across the street, the other heroes scrambling after him in some semblance of an order. “We’re coming now, Birdie. Be ready,” he says quickly, sprinting.

All Might was supposed to lead the charge from what he remembers, but he’s not moving fast enough, so Touya is first through the door, rearing back to kick it open. He adds a blast of flame to his kick, and the door turns to splinter and ash under his attack. 

All Might elects to come through the wall at the same time, his bulk clearing a seven foot tall, three foot wide cavern through the brick. It’s a pretty classy entrance, Touya thinks. Very flashy. 

And then Touya doesn’t think anything at all, because he sees Keigo in a chair against the opposite wall. He sees Tenko holding him by the throat with four fingers. He distantly hears someone yelling about Crush bolting down the stairs, but he’s never cared about anything less–his entire worldview is narrowed down to four fingers on Keigo’s throat, about to stop the heart of his Keigo. 

And that is unacceptable. 

“Eraser!” Touya growls, launching himself across the room. 

“Got him!” Eraser shouts back. He must have been just behind All Might. He hears footsteps thundering in the caved-in wall, hears shouting of heroes coordinating who needs to go downstairs after Crush. 

He watches Tenko’s middle finger land on Keigo’s throat, useless with his Quirk erased, and he feels his entire chest seize as the raging fire burns hotter than it ever has with the strength of his fury. The rage at the thought that Tenko was going to kill Keigo in front of him, right now? The moment he got here? The rage that instills in him isn’t useless. 

Touya has a lot of uses for rage. 

“Fuck,” Tenko manages, just a second before Touya’s hand closes around his throat. He smells the familiar scent of flesh burning, knows his hands must be searing hot like branding irons, and feels a sick satisfaction. He rips Tenko away from Keigo, lifting him into the air before slamming him down to the concrete ground of the bar as hard as he can, following him down so he can pin him.

“Touya!” Tenko screams, scrabbling at his arm uselessly. Eraser must still have eyes on him, because his arm doesn’t decay. Touya doesn’t think he would care if it did. He’d still burn out Tenko’s throat first. 

“How fucking dare you?” he hisses in his face. “How fucking dare you lay your hands on him?” He feels the inferno in his chest stoke higher, festering and flowing down his arms into his palm, sees the oily smoke curl away from Tenko’s neck as his skin starts to burn. 

“Touya, let me go, let me go, Touya, fuck,” Tenko shrieks, his voice going crackly. 

Touya cocks his head, watching him struggle. “No,” he replies flatly. “I think I’d rather burn your throat out so you can’t talk anymore,” he replies, echoing the words Tenko threw at him the first time they met in the street. 

“Touya,” Keigo says softly. A hand settles into his hair, sharp nails carding against his scalp, and it’s so familiar and comforting that it momentarily silences the inferno baying for blood and the roaring in his ears. He tilts his head into it, exhaling sharply. “Touya, you can let go. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“C’mon, kid, we’re about to have company; I won’t be able to keep eyes on him forever,” Eraser adds. 

“Then give me a knife, and I’ll cut his fucking hands off,” Touya suggests. Tenko’s eyes widen, and he struggles harder. Touya’s stronger than he is now, by a lot. The high school spars where Tenko beat him are a thing of the past; Touya has him in height, in weight, and in skill. He has a calf over his knees, pinning him in place, and his weak scratches aren’t doing anything. 

“Uh, no?” All Might says, voice sounding vaguely horrified. “That’s definitely not the answer. Eraser–”

“Portal!” Guardian shouts. She’s with Gunhead by the entrance to the stairs; he thinks Fatgum and a few from his agency that way. Manual is here somewhere, and a few from his agency; but he’s really not entirely sure what the entire roster is. He was too focused on getting here to pay attention to who all was coming, and now he’s too focused on making Keigo safe to give much of a damn. 

“Shit,” Eraser swears. “Hawks, take these!” He tosses three sets of something metal across the room. 

Keigo fumbles them for a second, then leans down into Touya’s space, clicking something around Tenko’s wrist. A thick metal band like a handcuff. Touya uses his free hand to seize his other forearm, dragging it over to help Keigo cuff the other wrist in. The cuffs flash red again and again, suppressing his Quirk. He hears Eraser tearing off in another direction, presumably trying to find where Chell is to erase her Quirk and get the portals out of play. 

Touya flicks his gaze back up to Tenko’s, meets his frantic gaze. He wants to release the flames under his palm, to melt his throat and watch him suffocate, to watch him burn–Keigo puts a hand back in his hair, gripping the strands. It’s both a comfort and a warning, a request and a reprimand. Touya huffs, lifting Tenko’s head and then cracking it back against the concrete in one swift motion, not hard enough to kill, but hard enough to knock him unconscious. 

When he lets go, he sees the shape of his hand burned into Tenko’s throat, and he feels a dark, oily satisfaction roiling through him. He spins to Keigo, eyes roving across his face, his body. “Are you okay?” he asks desperately. They don’t have time for this, not really, but he has to know, has to hear it from him. 

The hand in his hair slides down to his cheek, soft and gentle. “I’m fine, Touya,” Keigo says quietly, eyes burning as they stare at him. They’re perfect, his predator’s eyes, unblinking and strange. Keigo leans forward, clicking on Touya’s mic on his comms, making sure he can be heard. “Hawks here. Crush might have a two-command limit per person per day. There’s a healer here named Mend, and Overhaul came in earlier and went down the stairs with two of the others–looked like Chronos and Nemoto based on the files we have from Fat.” 

Touya can barely pay attention to the information he’s getting. The way Keigo’s leaned forward, Touya can see over his shoulder. He can see his wings, and they’re–fuck, they’re mangled. It looks like they’ve been hacked at, feathers broken and sliced, the skin around the base of his wings bleeding, his shirt slashed violently. His arm is streaked with blood, his shirt soaked with it and torn in the front and along his side. 

His eyes skip to Keigo’s hand, and it looks like he’s clutching something–a syringe? Touya reaches for it, plucking it out of his hand, and looks at it. It’s full of a glowing purple liquid that reminds him distantly of the giant man with glowing purple veins that he fought with Havoc. “Why the hell do you have–?” he starts to ask. He hears a woosh beside him as a portal opens a few feet from him, and he doesn’t have time to finish–he’s back in the fight.

He shoves the syringe in one of his pockets, spins around, and pushes Keigo behind him as Chell launches out of the portal, two daggers in her hands. “Comet! Great to see you again!” she calls. 

“I’d say the same, but I don’t fucking like you,” he says back tersely, settling into a fighting stance. He’ll have to get in close with her one way or another. He can’t start throwing flames around, otherwise she’ll portal his attacks across the room, and he may end up hurting an ally. 

One of the things he enjoyed about Gunhead’s agency was that during their downtime, they often trained disarming techniques to stay sharp. Gunhead often discussed body language of an attacker to see if they were particularly skilled with blades, or if they were just picking them up out of necessity to see what disarming techniques would be best applied. He can tell, for example, from the way that Chell stands that she’s not an expert with blades. This doesn’t surprise him. He bets she relies on her Quirk more than anything else–portaling herself or her enemies away instead of throwing herself into the fray. 

“You joined the party a little bit earlier than you were supposed to,” Chell snipes, her smirk terse and irritated. He glances down to her hands. If her hands are curled around daggers, she can’t click her fingers. How is she supposed to open her portals? Is he wrong about what it takes to activate her Quirk? 

He narrows his eyes, focusing on her feet, on her center of gravity, on her hands, waiting for her to make a move. “What can I say? You had me motivated,” he replies. He feints toward her, his palms lighting up with Blueflame like he’s going to attack, and she skirts away. He steps after her, following her like a well-practiced dance. He seizes her wrist, spinning around behind her to yank her arm behind her back, yanking it up her spine, twisting it hard.

“Ngh!” Chell gasps, her fingers spasming. The knife falls, and Touya catches it. She touches her index finger to her thumb, and he barely has time to register the woosh before he’s falling through a blue portal underneath his feet.

“Fuck,” he gasps, tightening his grip on her. They go tumbling, a flailing mass of limbs, and with a dizzying turn, Touya’s falling down from the ceiling into the middle of a battle between Eraserhead and Crush. Chell slams into Crush, sending her sprawling, and Touya’s foot goes directly into Eraser’s face, sending him reeling. 

“Dammit!” Eraser curses. 

“Sorry, fuck,” Touya gasps, shoving himself back to his feet as quickly as he can. His head is spinning, nausea roiling through him. He jerks his chin up just in time for Chell to slash her knife at him, catching him across the jaw. 

He rears back, swinging around to kick her in the side of the knee. When he connects, he hears a crack, and Chell hisses. 

“Die, Comet!” Crush snaps, but her voice holds no sway (thank fuck, would that Command even work? Would he just die, just like that? He’s grateful he doesn’t have to find out); Eraser dodges around him, capture weapon looping out to wrap around her throat and mouth. 

Touya slams his palm to Chell’s chest, his Quirk igniting in a roaring fire. She swings her dagger again, and he lifts his own, clanging noisily as he blocks her strike. 

Chell roars in pain, tackling him back into the ground–what should have been the ground, but what’s another goddamn portal. He’s falling again, this time instead of falling down, he spins dizzyingly downward and then to the side as he falls out of a wall across the room. Fuck he hates this Quirk. 

The knife falls out of his hand, skittering across the floor as his back slams into the concrete. 

“Touya!” Keigo yells. 

Touya wants to look around, to see where they landed, but Chell is on top of him, her knees on either side of his waist, and the knife in her hands is coming down toward his chest, so he really doesn’t have the time. 

“Touya!!” Keigo screams, voice coming closer–he’s running, but he’s not going to make it. Both of them can tell, and Touya can hear the heartbreak in his voice, the fact that Keigo thinks that he’s about to watch Touya die. 

So, Touya can’t die here. 

It’s as simple as that. 

Touya throws his arms up, his left trying to deflect the knife–he only manages to redirect it enough that it stabs him in the abdomen instead of the chest. It hurts, God, does it hurt, but it’s better than dying immediately in front of Keigo. His right arm goes straight out, grabbing Chell by the face, and his Quirk flares. 

Burning someone is never pretty, and it’s certainly not heroic. He’s been told since he was young that he’ll have to restrain himself if he wants to be a hero, that he’ll never be able to go full force, that he’ll have to be careful how he uses his Quirk and where he uses it on the body. The face is never an option, and never in this close of quarters. He knows intimately that this move will likely kill her, and if it doesn’t, she’ll likely be blind, maybe deaf, disfigured at the very least. 

Touya lets the inferno rage anyway against all instinct, because the sound of Keigo screaming his name in desperation is more important than that. 

He hears the portals snap shut, hears the horrific gurgle that Chell makes, and he throws her to the side, letting her thud to the side beside him. The smell of burning flesh makes him want to vomit. Keigo skids to his side on his knees, hands dropping to his side around the knife. 

“Shit, shit, Touya!” he yells. 

“I’m fine,” he replies thickly. He looks over Keigo’s shoulder, checking the progress of the fight. Crush is grappling with Eraser, sword flashing. Toga is fighting with Gunhead by the stairs. He thinks he hears All Might’s booming voice down below. He struggles to look around. Tenko is gone. “Where–Where did Tenko–?” he asks.

Keigo shakes his head, gritting his teeth. That’s not an answer. He presses down around the knife, and Touya’s head slams back against the concrete as his whole body seizes in agony. “Fuck,” he gasps. “We don’t have time for that,” he growls. “Where is Tenko?”

“Twice grabbed him and went out onto the street, the cops are probably stopping him, or the back up heroes. Touya, there’s a knife in your stomach. We have time to deal with it,” Keigo hisses. 

“Move your hands,” he snaps back. “There aren’t any major arteries there; I’m not going to–” he inhales sharply, and the scent of burned flesh hits him again in a wave. “Move!” he shouts, shoving Keigo back, his eyes snapping over to Chell. His handprint is embedded across her cheek, her forehead, her face, but her good eye is focused on him and burning with hatred. She taps her fingers together, and he drops through the floor. 

He expects to appear somewhere else in the same room, somewhere close, but he doesn’t. He appears in the open air, the breath leaving his lungs all at once as he realizes that he’s–fuck he’s in the goddamn sky, falling. The wind tears the knife out of his abdomen, and god that fucking hurts, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s about to die anyway. He sees the bar far below, and he’s hurtling toward it and he takes a moment to mourn the fact that Keigo’s wings are mangled–he won’t be able to come catch him. 

Fuck, he can’t die, not now. 

It’s so antithetical to his entire being to want to live, but–Keigo doesn’t know that Touya is in love with him, and that’s suddenly unacceptable, and fuck, he hasn’t seen Shouto get into high school yet, and he wants to see that shitty sports festival, and he wants to see Natsuo graduate college so he can take him to some shitty restaurant and celebrate, and he wants to take Keigo somewhere nice and call it a real date like a fucking sap because he loves him, and he can’t do that if he’s a goddamn splatter on the ground. 

Touya fumbles for the syringe in his pocket, an idea slamming into his head. A goddamn stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless, and he has exactly .03 seconds to have the idea, think it through, and enact it while he’s falling through the sky, so–

He rips off the plastic cap, rips up his sleeve, and jams the needle in his arm, injecting the purple liquid. 

Jesus. 

The effect is immediate. 

His Quirk, already unstable, already volatile, vibrant, violent, rages and howls under his skin. It roars, and for the first time in his life, he mimics Endeavor. Normally, while his flames are hot enough to do this, they’re not big enough, not consistent enough. He just can’t make enough of them before his body gives out and forces the flames to sputter out, but right now? It’s not a problem. He’s a bonfire, a wildfire, an inferno, raging out of control. 

Flames burst from his feet, from his palms, and he’s not falling anymore–he’s flying. God, is this what Keigo feels?

No, Keigo isn’t this.

Touya feels like pure destruction. Keigo isn’t destruction. He slams onto the street and feels the asphalt melt under his shoes. He lets out a hysterical little laugh, and he wonders how well he’s holding up under this. 

He doesn’t think he wants to know. 

It occurs to him that he can’t turn it back off, can’t smother his flames again, and oh, so much for living. 

Well. 

He supposes he should see how many of the bad guys he can take with him. 

He wonders if his comms work. 

Touya reaches up to tap at his comms and feels melted plastic along his shoulder, and–yeah, he should have expected that. He lets out another hysterical little cackle. He realizes there are people around him, backed away. Cops, he realizes distantly, yelling to each other. Everything is shimmering through a haze of heat. He walks forward, watching as they scramble to get out of the way, meters away from him–is that how far away they have to stand? Is that how far his heat goes? 

He doesn’t know what’s most important. Does he find Tenko and kill him? Kill Crush? How can he help the most before he burns out? God, everything is so muddled in his head. He really just wants to see Keigo one more time, but he doesn’t want to make Keigo watch him burn. 

“Don’t let him get away!” someone yells. 

Alright. He can help with that, he supposes. 

Someone breaks away through the gap, and it’s perhaps profoundly unlucky that Twice seems to think the copline ends here, and that he’s breaking through to safety. 

He drags Tenko through, looking back instead of forward, and staggers a few steps forward before the intense heat seems to register. And then his head turns. 

“... Oh shit!” 

Touya laughs hysterically, because that’s all he seems capable of doing right now. 

“Oh, shit!” he agrees, and his voice rasps out of his throat, roiling like a black cloud over a burning building. He sounds like a natural disaster, and he’s sure he looks like one, too, as he moves forward. 

Twice melts into a few clones, a rough shape of Toga, of Tenko, of Chell starting to take shape, and Touya throws his hand out, jets of Blueflame burning them to nothing before they can fully form as he advances. 

“You should surrender!” he offers, cackling. “Before I kill us both!” He blasts the ground at his feet, making a shocked little noise when Twice’s suit catches fire anyway from the pure residual heat. Oops. Twice drops Tenko, patting himself out with a shriek. 

Touya advances another step, herding him back further into the line of police. With a quick maneuver, one of them grabs Twice’s arm, snapping the Quirk suppressing cuffs on him. It should be enough. 

It should. 

God, Touya is burning. 

He drops to his knees, leaning forward to plant his hands on the street. 

He really wishes he could have seen Keigo one last time. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·ঔঌ·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Keigo hates portal Quirks. If he never sees Chell again, it’ll be too soon. Touya shoves him out of the way and drops through the floor again, and doesn’t reappear. Chell laughs, a gurgled sound through her wounded face, and the portal snaps shut. 

“Where the hell did you send him?” Keigo growls. 

“Away,” she says, just before she slumps into the ground, unconscious. He seizes her wrists, slapping the cuffs on them so she can’t make any more portals. He grabs his stupid, useless little feather dagger, and then a slightly more useful real dagger from the ground, staggering to his feet. He looks around wildly. 

Eraser is dancing between Toga and Crush, his eyes locked on Crush even as he avoids Toga’s knives and Crush’s sword. 

He can help there–then he can find Touya; Eraser has comms, he’ll be able to tell him where Touya is. He lets his feather fly, slicing across her achilles tendon and then sprints after it, spinning to meet her. Toga screams, her leg giving out. She falls to a knee, her knives coming up in defense, and he slashes down to meet her. 

“Where’s Comet?” Keigo barks out to Eraser, maneuvering to disarm Toga. They’re grappling, struggling, and it’s–secondary in his mind, under the layer of TouyaTouyaTouyaTouya… 

“Dunno,” Eraser spits. 

“Die, already, Eraser!” Crush spits around a mouth of blood. 

“Use a different command, that one is getting boring,” Eraser retorts. 

Keigo manages a twist of Toga’s wrist, getting an arm behind her back, and his last pair of cuffs pins her arms back. He punches her, hard, in the temple, and then sends his one feather out to cut across the back of Crush’s ankle like he did with Toga. She falters, and that’s enough for Eraser to get the capture weapon around her wrist, making her drop the sword. He yanks her forward, slamming his fist into her face, and then he’s on her, pinning her. Keigo leans forward, making sure Eraser’s comms are clicked on. 

“Hawks here. Where’s Comet?” he demands. 

Eraser clicks a pair of cuffs onto Crush, then his shoulders tense, his head snapping toward the door. “Fuck. On my way,” he says, shoving off of her and sprinting toward the street. Keigo is on his heels immediately. 

Keigo feels it before he sees it. It should be cold outside. It’s January. 

The waves of heat hit him the moment he steps outside, baking his skin. It feels like mid-May, like he’s in the desert. Jesus. He sees the whipping blue flames, and everything else falls away in his rising horror. 

What is he doing? 

“Touya!” he screams, sprinting through the crowd of officers, shoving them aside. He shoves his way through until he breaks into the empty space. Touya is on his hands and knees, curled forward into the asphalt. The flames wreath him, bursting from his palms, from his arms, his legs, everywhere. He’s screaming, and through the blue of the flames, Keigo sees the flashes of purple veins along Touya’s burning skin. 

Trigger? Why the fuck would he use Trigger? 

He’s moving forward, and he doesn’t care that the heat is increasing, that his skin is turning red. 

If Touya’s going to burn, then Keigo will burn with him. 

“Hawks!” Eraser grabs the back of Keigo’s shirt, and the flames die. The hellish heat lingers, and Touya’s scream cracks, breaks into a choked-off whine. 

Keigo yanks out of Eraser’s grip, sprinting forward to catch Touya before he can fall. He slams to his knees on the concrete, arms coming around him as he wavers. The metal bracers sear into his arms, but it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care, he needs to know if Touya is alive. 

He looks–Keigo can’t even verbalize how Touya looks, not even in his mind; he’s terrified that Touya is dead. He has to be dead, he can’t look like this and still be alive. He hears sounds that he thinks are coming from Touya at first, mournful twittering wails of agony, but he realizes that–Touya can’t make those noises, he doesn’t have the ability to make noises like a bird. Keigo must be the one who makes them as his fingers search for a pulse, clinging to Touya desperately, so far past words that he can’t even say his name.

The purple veins slowly fade, and Touya’s tense body slowly relaxes in his arms. 

Without the trembling muscles, the pulsing of Trigger, he–he feels it. Faintly. A soft, thready pulse, just barely there. Keigo hunches over, burying his face into Touya’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut, focused on the soft pulse that says that Touya isn’t gone, isn’t dead. Not yet. 

His head snaps up. “Mend,” he shouts back at Eraser. “Find him!”

“The villain healer?” Eraser asks uncertainly, eyeing Touya. 

“It’s–the only chance he has,” Keigo gasps. “Please, Eraser. You have to–he’s–”

Touya’s breath rattles, and Keigo pulls him closer. 

“Please,” he begs. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·ঔঌ·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya can’t feel anything, not anymore. Not even the hellish heat. He hears something, though–he hears a beautiful voice in his ear, wracked with grief, rough and cracking. 

“Please.” 

He lets out a breath. “Anything,” he tries to say, because he’ll give that voice anything it wants, knows he’ll grab the sun and hand it over if only it asks. He’s already tried, hasn’t he? He feels like he has. 

“Touya?” the voice asks, frantic. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yes,” he tries to answer. He wants to look. He wants to see. He just needs to remember how to… see. Something about eyes, he thinks. He really, really wants to see the owner of the voice one last time. 

“Touya, come on, stay with me, please, fuck, you don’t get to leave me now. You don’t, god damn you.” 

He’s not going anywhere. Is he? He doesn’t think he can move, so he’s not going anywhere. He’d have to open his eyes to go somewhere, wouldn’t he? He manages, opening his eyes just a little, and a hazy, hazy image swims into view of the sun, golden and bright. 

Ah. 

Keigo. 

He doesn’t need to bring the voice the sun, does he? The voice is the sun. 

“... Kei,” he mumbles. 

“Touya,” Keigo says, leaning down to him. He hears something sizzle, sees a line of smoke rise from his cheek–is Keigo crying? That shouldn’t be–there’s no reason for the sun to be sad. 

“... You… ‘kay?” he asks. 

Keigo laughs, and there’s a hysteria to it. “Am I okay? Am I okay. Am I okay?” he asks. 

Touya feels himself sliding again, feels his eyes trying to shut. He can’t–wait for the answer, but God he wants to. There’s something important he needs to say, something just out of reach, something slipping through his fingers like water. 

Oh, right. 

“Love… you,” he mumbles. 

Then he closes his eyes.

Chapter Text

Shouto is, he thinks, overall, fairly happy with the life he has. 

There are things he would change, regrets, memories he’d rather not have, but he thinks that everyone has those. On the other hand, he has three siblings who fight for him. 

And now, he has friends. 

Izuku and Katsuki, as they insist on being called now, (well, Izuku insists and Katsuki rails against, but doesn’t actually incite violence, which is the same thing as insisting on), sit on either side of him in the hospital waiting room. Tenya would be there, too, if Shouto asked, but he thinks having too many people there would overwhelm him, and probably Touya, too. 

Shouto sits perfectly still in between them, hands on his lap, thinking. It’s been two days since the mission, since Hawks and Fuyumi were recovered, and Touya was put in the hospital. 

He doesn’t really know what happened–no one wants to tell him all of the details, no matter how often he asks. He’s gotten some idea from the media, that the villains were apprehended, and Touya had been injured badly. Nothing much beyond that, though–they’d been kept far away from the actual zone, so they had no pictures and nothing beyond idle speculation. 

“Shou,” Izuku says, leaning against his side. 

“Hm?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Look at this–it’s a breakdown of temperature Quirks by that TikTok account I was talking about,” he says eagerly, offering a headphone. 

“Put on subtitles, nerd,” Katsuki says, leaning to hook his chin over Shouto’s shoulder. 

“I never turn them off, Kacchan,” Izuku says, sounding offended. He leans over, angling his phone so they can both see, and hits play. 

Izuku often does this–leans into his space, halfway across him, so Katsuki can see whatever it is they’re doing, and Katsuki leans in, too. It’s–pragmatic. They’re both so warm, and Katsuki smells like caramel, and Izuku like evergreens, and Shouto is so still, like he’s afraid of scaring away a stray cat every time they do it, his heart thundering in his chest. 

Is this friendship? He’s never had friends before, not like this. Endeavor always home schooled him, and as soon as Touya pulled him out of the house, it was–awkward, at first. 

His siblings hadn’t really known how to raise an eleven year old with no social skills. They were fiercely protective of him, to the point of overprotection. They enrolled him in school, but he was… well, he was Endeavor’s child. He was strange, scarred, and he didn’t know how to talk to anyone. He gave off an aura of intimidation, and no one seemed to want to approach him. He didn’t know how to approach them, so… he didn’t. 

By his second year, he’d gained a reputation as being unapproachable, as being aloof, impassive, and even, in some ways, cruel. He hated it, but he didn’t know how to undo it. He wasn’t sure how to approach anyone to begin with, let alone to approach people who were already scared of him–and it seemed like everyone was. He was to be avoided. So… he let them. He did his work, he excelled, and he hoped that he would be able to fix it later, when he knew more. He hoped, maybe, someone would be better than him and approach him. 

Shouto started training again, on his own, in ways that didn’t hurt, when he set his sights back on UA for his own reasons, with encouragement from Touya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. There was a beach he liked because no one went there–it was cluttered with garbage, but it was always empty. A good place to run, as long as he wore thick shoes and didn’t mind the smell. Sometimes there were the odd tires or climbable things he could incorporate into his training, if he was feeling creative, or he could just run. 

And it was there he met Izuku. Unafraid, unbothered by Shouto’s taciturn nature, inviting him to come train, and asking for his number immediately. 

Katsuki was a later addition, more fraught. One shouting match, one round of explosions, and one frozen Katsuki later, he’d somehow made two friends. 

Shouto can’t imagine going through this without them at his side right now. 

The thought scares him a little bit–he’s… thought himself mostly self-reliant for some time now, but right now, he thinks he might need them. And that’s a little alarming. The thought of Touya in what they’re calling a medically-induced coma is terrifying, but the warm weight of Izuku on one side and Katsuki on his other is making it… bearable. 

“Shou,” Natsuo calls. 

Shouto bolts out of his seat, knocking Izuku’s phone out of his hand on accident. “Sorry,” he says, looking back quickly. 

Natsuo huffs a little laugh as he walks across the room to him. He’s followed by two people. A man with pink hair, and a black-haired man who looks like he hasn’t slept in three days. 

Shouto hurries over. “What’s going on?” he asks quickly. 

“Shouto, this is Eraserhead and Mend. Mend wanted to talk to you. We’re going to be there the whole time, and it’s completely up to you if you want to talk to him,” Natsuo says, his eyes flickering over to him distrustfully. 

Shouto shifts uncomfortably. “... Who is Mend?” he asks Natsuo. “... Can Izuku and Katsuki come?” 

“Mend is… a healer. But he was involved with the villain group who hurt Touya,” Natsuo says carefully. 

Eraser clears his throat. “He also healed Touya,” he adds. “So… It’s a little bit of a gray area, kid.” 

“And no, it’ll just have to be you and me. Sorry,” he says, reaching out to ruffle his hair. 

Shouto shifts, looking over at Mend. He looks younger than the others, short. His eyes are red, his pupils cross-shaped. He wonders if that affects how he can see. He’s wearing scrubs, like a doctor, and a black choker, decidedly not like a doctor. His hair is long, but wound up in a bun. 

“... Are you a doctor?” he asks Mend. 

Mend smiles, and it’s almost kind. “Depends on who you ask,” he answers, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been certified as a doctor in the past. Right now, I’m a certified paramedic.” 

Shouto’s brow furrows. “That doesn’t make sense,” he says uncertainly. 

“I’m trying to be more honest,” he says, and it sounds like a joke that Shouto doesn’t get. “It’s confusing for us all.” Eraserhead elbows him in the ribs, and he coughs. “Ow.” 

“... Alright. I’ll talk to him,” he says, tilting his head curiously at Mend. “You’ll be there, right, Natsuo?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be there, and so will Eraser.” 

“Okay.” He looks back at Izuku and Katsuki, who are watching with sharp eyes, He holds up a finger, then gestures to the group, as if to say hold on a second, I’m going with them. Neither of them look happy, but Izuku nods, frowning. 

“There’s an office they’re willing to let us borrow,” Eraser says, gesturing. “Come on.” 

Shouto gets herded in front of them, next to Mend so Eraser and Natsuo can keep an eye on both of them as they walk. 

“So. You’re Comet’s younger brother?” Mend asks, looking over at him. 

“... Yes,” he says, a flush of warmth running through him. It’s the first time someone has addressed him as Comet’s younger brother and not Endeavor’s youngest son. He loves it, actually. He’d love to be known as Touya’s brother, rather than Endeavor’s project. 

“Cool. Comet’s pretty cool, huh?” he asks, smiling. 

Shouto hums. “... Yeah,” he agrees. He hesitates, eyeing him. “What’s your–” He pauses, remembering one of Izuku’s rants about phrasing and assumptions. “Do you have a Quirk?” 

Mend’s smile widens. “I do. I’m able to assess and adjust the way the body works through touch,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “It’s called Mend. Do you, Todoroki?” 

“Yes,” he answers. “I can summon and control ice and fire. Half Hot, Half Cold,” he answers. 

Mend nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense,” he says. 

Shouto hums ruefully. “Because of the…” He gestures at his appearance, split down the middle. 

Mend laughs. “No, but that’s a thought! I wonder if your Quirk is two Quirks combined, or one Quirk with two ambient environments,” he says with a hum. “What I meant was that it makes sense with what I felt when I healed Comet.” 

Shouto’s brow furrows. “... I don’t understand. Touya just has a fire Quirk.” 

Mend hums. “Maybe,” he replies. 

Eraser pauses outside of an office door, pushing it open and steps inside. It’s more of a meeting room, it looks like, with six chairs and a long table and a white board at the front of the room. Mend walks over, hopping up to sit on the table, crossing his legs. 

Eraser and Natsuo lean against the wall next to the door, keeping their eyes on Mend. Shouto decides to stay standing, awkward and uncomfortable. 

“... What do you mean, maybe?” 

Mend taps his chin, thinking. “So… Context,” he says thoughtfully. He looks over Shouto’s shoulder at Natsuo. “How much context am I allowed to give here?” 

Shouto spins to look at Natsuo, his brows furrowed. 

Natsuo meets his gaze, frowning. “... As much as you think he needs in order to make an informed decision. He’s more mature than you think,” he says slowly. 

“Still a kid, though,” Eraser cuts in. 

“I’m fifteen,” Shouto replies, irritated. 

“... A kid,” Eraser repeats, more firmly. 

He turns back to Mend, his shoulders hunched slightly. “What’s the context?” he asks. 

“Alright. When I heal things, it’s… fairly invasive,” Mend says thoughtfully. “I learn twice as much as I heal. I learn your age, every injury you’ve ever had, any diseases you’ve got, anything you’re prone to getting. The state of your organs. Your Quirk.” He lets his feet hang off the table, kicking them easily. “Frankly, I don’t really care about most of it. It’s just noise. I heal whatever I feel like healing, and I get back out, then I promptly forget about it. But, if I were of a mind,” he says thoughtfully, tipping his head back. “I could do some real damage. I could change how your body works. I’ve done it before, when people have deserved it. When they haven’t, but I didn’t like them.” He shrugs. “Eraser’s right, though, you’re just a kid. I wouldn’t hurt you.” 

Shouto shifts, staring at him. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this. Why would you need to use your Quirk on me? I’m not injured.” 

“Nope,” he agrees. “I healed Comet, though, and I got all of that information on him,” he explains with a shrug. “And here’s the rub: his Quirk isn’t just fire. There’s–something else there. Something weird, something close to the surface right now. But I haven’t seen a lot of people with fire and ice Quirks, so I’m really not sure what it looks like. So. Enter you.” He gestures. “If you’re willing, you let me look–just look. Let me see if it’s similar. If it is, I know what it looks like when it’s active and working properly. Maybe I can help Comet out. Maybe he stops lighting himself on fire all the time.” 

Shouto leans back, his back hitting the door. “Oh,” he breathes. He sits down, hard. “Oh.” 

Natsuo sits down next to him immediately, hands hovering. “Are you okay?” he asks. 

Shouto shakes his head quickly. 

Touya could have an ice Quirk. 

Touya might not die. 

He turns his face into Natsuo’s chest, grabbing the front of his shirt. Everything they went through. Everything Endeavor put him through, put Touya through, it was for–

For what? 

For a Quirk that Touya might already have?

“... I need to–this is a lot,” he says flatly. 

Mend nods. “Do you have any questions you want answered right now, or do you just need time?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“... Does it hurt?” Shouto asks, looking at him. 

Mend smiles. “No,” he says. “Not for you.” 

He tilts his head. “Does it hurt for you?” 

Mend pauses, looking surprised. “You know… Todoroki, you’re the first person in almost two hundred years who’s ever thought to ask me that,” he says, leaning forward. “Do you want to be a hero?” 

“Two hundred…” Shouto murmurs to himself quietly. “... Yeah, I do want to be a hero,” he answers. 

“I think you’ll make a pretty good one, kid.” Mend grins. “It does hurt me, actually. Every single time. I feel every injury I heal,” he answers, tipping his head back. “Exactly as if I’d gotten it myself. You can see why I don’t heal everyone, or everything.” 

Shouto blanches. “... Does… looking hurt?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“Hmmm…” He considers. “No, not so much. It’s information overload. Gives me a headache sometimes.” 

“... How badly did… How badly did Touya hurt?” he asks in a small voice. 

Mend tips his head toward him, a sad little smile on his face. “After a while, pain is pain, Todoroki. Scaling it, comparing it? There’s no point. All of it just hurts.” 

Shouto nods, running his fingers along the scar on his face. He… understands to some extent, he thinks. People who are rude enough to ask at all often ask how much it hurt, and he never knows how to answer beyond, well… a lot. How do you codify pain? It just… is. 

Mend watches the motion curiously. He nods once. “You get it,” he says. He looks away. “Full disclosure, so you have all the facts for the most informed decision,” he adds. “I worked with the villain group for a little while.” 

Shouto pauses. “... I heard,” he says carefully. “Why?” 

“Hmmm. Why.” He drums his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “I’m a hundred and seventy-two,” he says slowly. “My Quirk lets me… adjust things. Including myself, really, on a cellular level. If I don’t want to die, well…” He shrugs. “I won’t.” 

Shouto digests that for a moment. “... Alright,” he says carefully. 

Mend turns fully to look at him. “You’re fifteen, so you probably don’t understand what it’s like to be old,” he says, laughing. “But, Todoroki, I am old. I’ve seen so many things, done so many things that it’s frankly hard to surprise me at this point. Sometimes, when I see something happen that I think is going to change things in the world, for the better or for the worse, well…” He shrugs. “I get curious. Crush and her crew had a solid chance to change things in the world, one way or another. They had a plan, and they were strong. I wanted to see what was going to happen.” 

“Why aren’t you in jail with them, then?” he asks curiously. 

Mend’s grin grows wide. “Because my Quirk is dead useful,” he answers. “I healed the heroes that were injured, gave up the villains’ plan when it was clear which way the wind was blowing, and well… you know.”

“You swapped sides,” Shouto summarizes. 

“Precisely.” 

“That’s not very loyal,” he murmurs. 

“I’m not very loyal,” Mend agrees. “Why would I be? What do I have to be loyal to?” 

“... People?” Shouto tries. “Ideals?” 

“People die. Ideals change.” 

“You don’t. If you had ideals, they could endure,” Shouto says quietly. 

Mend stares at him, lips parted for a moment. “... You’re… interesting, Todoroki.” 

“Can you not hit on my kid brother?” Natsuo grumbles. “He’s fifteen.”

Mend’s face lights up in a wide grin, his eyes snapping to Natsuo. “I’m very much not hitting on him,” he says, sounding delighted. “You, however, can take me out any time.” 

“You’re too old for me,” Natsuo mutters irritably, his face slightly pink. 

“Fair,” Mend replies easily, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m too old for everyone.” 

Eraser sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Topic. Stay on it,” he says, sounding tired. 

“Any other questions?” 

“... Is Touya going to be okay?” he asks quietly. 

Mend hums. “Yeah, he will,” he answers. 

“Would you be able to figure out if he has an ice Quirk without looking at mine?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Mend considers. “Maybe. It would take more trial and error. I might break something,” he says thoughtfully. “Comet would have to agree to let me play around with his insides.” 

Shouto nods slowly. “... Then it’s fine. You can look.” 

“Kid, you don’t have to answer now,” Eraser says. “You can take some time to think about it. Comet isn’t waking up for a few days, at least.” 

Shouto shakes his head. “I don’t need to think about it,” he says. “I trust him not to kill me, and it will help Touya. Why would I need to keep thinking about it?” he asks. 

Mend blinks, looking over at Natsuo like he’s baffled. 

Natsuo shrugs. “He’s… just like that,” he says to whatever Mend’s face is doing. 

“Well. Whenever you’re ready, then,” he says. 

“Fuyumi agreed?” he checks with Natsuo. Natsuo nods, so Shouto stands up, walking over to him. “How does it work?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“I’ll just need to hold your hands–that should be enough,” Mend says easily. “You should probably sit though. You might be able to feel some effects.” 

“If you feel anything off, let me know and I can shut off his Quirk right away,” Eraser reassures him. 

“... Or I’ll just stop using it,” Mend adds with a wry smile. 

Shouto nods, sitting down on the floor in front of the table. He gestures for Mend to come join him, and Mend slides down like liquid, crossing his legs to sit in front of him. 

“I’ll talk to you the whole time. Feel free to talk back, you won’t distract me,” Mend says, offering his hands palm up on his lap. 

Shouto sets his hands in Mend’s watching with rapt attention. His hands are dry and warm, lightly calloused. He curls his fingers around Shouto’s palms, and then his palms begin glowing a soft pink. His eyes slip shut. 

“... Ah, here we go. So… Fifteen… Happy birthday by the way, that was recent,” he mumbles. 

“Thank you,” Shouto replies, focused on his hands. It feels–odd. He feels warmth on his palms, snaking up and along his arms, into his chest, down into his stomach. It’s obvious that something is happening, that there’s another presence there, searching for something. It’s vaguely uncomfortable, invasive, like Mend said, but not… painful. 

“... God, you’ve really been through the ringer for a fifteen year old,” he mutters. 

“Don’t talk about that,” Shouto requests flatly. 

“Understood. Sorry.” 

“No harm done,” he says. 

“What’s he talking about?” Eraser murmurs to Natsuo, voice barely above a whisper; Shouto only hears it because he’s expecting it. 

“Tell you later,” Natsuo replies, sounding distracted. 

Shouto is about to object when he feels a spike of warmth in his chest. “What’s that?” he asks Mend, shifting slightly. 

“Quirk,” Mend replies. “... Interesting. You do have kind of a… single Quirk,” he muses. “You change the air itself. Superheated on the left until it ignites, super cooled until it freezes on the right. You’ve got a bit of a fuel element in here, and your cold side freezes the fuel while your hot side ignites it.” 

“Is it like what Touya has?” he asks curiously.

Mend’s brow furrows. “... No, not really. But I think I can see what the difference is now. Comet’s seems more like…” He hums. “His cold ‘side’ is… inside?” he asks, tilting his head. “You use your cold to cool down the fire side, right? And the fire side to heat up the cold?” 

“Yes,” Shouto says. 

“I can tell. You have signs of hyper and hypothermia all over,” he says, humming. “You should really be more careful about that.”

Shouto cools his right hand to the point of discomfort. 

“Yowch,” Mend says, yanking his hands back. “Alright. Point understood.” 

Natsuo comes to his side, running a hand through his hair. “You okay, Shou?” he asks, leaning forward to look at him. 

“Fine,” he says. 

“... Alright. We’ll talk about this later,” he warns. 

“What do you mean by his cold side is inside?” Shouto asks, looking back to Mend. 

“I’m not entirely sure. I’ll have to look again, with your reference in mind,” he says thoughtfully. “It’s like… a core, I guess. Something that’s not helping him right now.” 

Natsuo sits down next to him. “I… I thought about something like that,” he says breathlessly. “That was one of my theories.” 

Mend looks at him, blinking. “What?” 

“I’ve been trying to–figure out why Touya’s body was rejecting his Quirk. For years now,” he says. “I’m in college for Quirk medicine. I’ve been studying everything I can about it, you know? I just wanted to understand how someone’s body could reject their own Quirk so badly. So many of the cases I came across, the answer was always that it just didn’t, that there was something that the doctors were missing, or that the patient was missing, or something the family tree that was missing that would have saved them.” Natsuo leans forward, talking faster. “I thought maybe, just maybe, that it wasn’t that Touya wasn’t made for his Quirk, but that there was just something that wasn’t–working right. He’s always cold, you know? Like his base temperature is always around thirty-five degrees Celsius. He just runs cold. If his base temperature is cold, then maybe–” 

Mend nods quickly. “His body could be naturally settled with the ice Quirk, and when he woke up Blueflame first, he trained it more heavily than the ice Quirk and threw everything out of balance,” he says thoughtfully. “If we could wake up the ice Quirk, maybe he could balance the two–”

“And then he might–” Natsuo cuts off, seeming to realize he’s been unconsciously leaning into Mend’s space, a few inches away from him. Mend is leaning forward too, looking amused and interested. 

Natsuo flushes, leaning back quickly. 

Shouto blinks, looking between them. “... Might what?” he asks. 

Natsuo looks at him, startled, like he forgot that Shouto was even there. He coughs, clearing his throat. “Might–get better. Uh. Might be able to not get hurt. He might not need to rely so heavily on his suit, you know?” he says, turning pinker. 

Mend leans forward further, brows raised. “Right. That, exactly. So… Natsuo,” he says, dragging out the syllables. 

“Mend,” Natsuo says, almost like a warning. 

He huffs, leaning back to lean on his palms. “Fine, fine. Later, then,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

“Half past never,” he mutters. “Shou, was that all the questions you had?” Natsuo asks, sounding vaguely desperate. 

“... Yeah, I think so. Can we go see Touya yet?” 

Natsuo nods. “Yeah, we can go see him. Thanks for helping, Shou.” 

“It was good to meet you, Todoroki,” Mend says, waving. “Hope to see you around.” 

Shouto hesitates, looking at him. “You, too, I think,” he says hesitantly. He stands up, bows to Eraserhead, and follows Natsuo out of the room. 

· · ────── ঌ·❆·ঌ ────── · ·

Keigo hasn’t slept much. Not at all. 

He’s on day four of staring at Touya’s sleeping face while his itchy feathers grow back in, and he really should preen them or do something to help them open up properly, but he can’t be bothered frankly. Touya’s face has a deep scar on it, a knife wound from Chell, along his jaw. The burns curl up from his chest along his neck, stopping just at his jaw. They curl down his arms. He knows they swirl down his legs, across his back, across his chest. 

They’re everywhere right now. 

Mend swears he can reduce them quite a lot, but it’ll take time. 

He’s already worked miracles, as far as Keigo is concerned. Touya’s skin is pale and pink with scar tissue rather than blackened and red and leathery. He can touch Touya without accidentally pulling pieces of him away, without making him whine in pain in his sleep. He knows the scars will bother Touya, but Keigo’s never been bothered by them–he thinks Touya is beautiful now, and he thought Touya was beautiful then. He leans forward, setting an elbow on the bed so he can run his thumb along his cheekbone. He exhales slowly, staring at his expression. It’s–not quite relaxed. Even unconscious, in a medically induced coma, his brows are slightly pinched in the middle. He runs his thumb between them, trying to smooth the tension there. 

“Idiot,” he mumbles. “Just sleep. Sleep and get better already.” 

There’s a soft knock on the door that he recognizes as Fuyumi. He should probably sit up properly, but he doesn’t care enough. “C’mon in,” he calls, not looking away. 

The door opens. 

“Hawks,” Fuyumi greets in her soft voice. He glances back. She’s with Eraserhead and Mend. Another healing session, then. 

“‘Yumi,” he greets. He looks back to Touya. “Ready, Touya?” he asks him quietly. “Gonna get you all camera ready before you wake up. Hopefully my feathers are all grown back before then.” He huffs a little laugh, lifting Touya’s hand to press a kiss to it. He scoots his chair away. 

Mend shuffles over. “... Sure you don’t want me to help with your wings?” he asks, glancing down at them. 

“Touch my feathers, and I’ll skewer you on them,” he replies flatly. “I trust you for this, for Touya, because you seem to… like him. You haven’t hurt him. But I don’t trust you to extend that same courtesy to me.” 

“I’ve already healed you once,” Mend points out, rolling his eyes. He leans over, assessing Touya for a moment.

“And I was about as happy about that as I was about your giving me the Trigger that made this happen,” Keigo says, gesturing to Touya. 

Mend shrugs. “He’s alive, isn’t he? Better than the alternative. I can heal most of this. I can’t heal dead.” 

Keigo feels violently ill for a moment, remembering the moment when he thought Touya was dead, feeling for his pulse, the bracer searing into his arm, skin burning–

He stands up abruptly. “I’m going to get some air. Fuyumi, you’ll stay with him?” he checks. 

Fuyumi nods, walking over to observe, Eraser close behind. 

Keigo walks out, heading out toward the back of the hospital until he can find an exit that leads outside. He shoves outside, looking around. It doesn’t look like there’s any press here, luckily. He knows they’ve been at the front of the hospital, hoping to catch Pro-Hero Hawks visiting his boyfriend, or one of the Todorokis to get information about Comet. It’s–annoying. He hasn’t left the hospital since Touya got here, so he hasn’t had to deal with them directly, but they’ve been bothering Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shouto. 

He sits down beside the door, fluffing out his raggedy wings. They’re half-grown, downy in patches and with feathers that aren't opened fully. He’s itchy. Some of his ragged, cut feathers are still there, not quite pushed out by new feathers. He hasn’t bothered to pull them all out yet. 

He hears the door open beside him and sighs, hunching in on himself slightly. He looks over, irritated. 

Shouto pauses, looking at him with mismatched eyes, uncertain. 

“... I can go, if you’d rather be alone,” he says quietly. 

Keigo relaxes, running a hand through his hair. “... It’s fine. I just needed some air,” he says with a sigh. 

Shouto walks over, sitting down a few feet away. Close enough that they could generously be considered sitting ‘together’ but far enough away that Keigo could ignore him if he wanted. He shifts slightly to face him.

“How are you holding up?” Keigo asks. 

Shouto blinks. “I’m fine,” he replies. Keigo remembers Touya’s rant about this–about Shouto replying ‘I’m fine’ before he checks in with himself, like a knee-jerk reaction rather than the truth. 

He considers for a second. What would be the best route? He doesn’t know Shouto well enough to just push. He doesn’t think he really has the right to do that. He tips his head back, thinking. 

“How are you holding up, Hawks?” Shouto asks, tilting his head. “You don’t look very good.” 

Keigo hums. “I’m not doing very good, no,” he admits quietly. Maybe that’s the avenue to take. Maybe Shouto is like Touya in that way–maybe he appreciates honesty. “You know I… really like your brother, right?” 

Shouto makes a noise of understanding. “Yeah. You two are… good for each other. I think,” he says slowly. “Touya…” He twists his fingers thoughtfully. “He’s never really been happy, I don’t think. But when he met you, he seemed like he was getting there. Every now and again.” 

Keigo looks away, running a hand over his face. “... He’s never been happy,” he repeats quietly, awash with a wave of some emotion he doesn’t quite have a name for.

Shouto tilts his head, like he’s thinking. “No, I don’t think so. I think he’s been too focused on… us.” He frowns. “I wish I could help more. Or that I could be… older, maybe. More independent at least.” 

Keigo laughs. “Shouto, you’re probably the most independent fifteen year old I’ve ever met,” he says, leaning his chin on his palm. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make Touya less willing to focus his time on you.” 

Shouto shrugs, looking vaguely unhappy. “I know,” he says. “I just wish he didn’t have to.” 

He tilts his head, thinking. “I… don’t know, Shouto. I think things could have gone a lot worse. If he didn’t focus on you guys,” he says quietly. “I think maybe this is the better route.” 

“The best route is probably the one where my father was killed before he had a chance to spawn,” he says flatly. 

Keigo reels back, making a small trill of surprise. “You don’t mean that.” 

“... No, probably not,” he allows. “Maybe just before me, then.” 

“Shouto,” he chides. 

He shrugs, looking away. “You wouldn’t have been home. You wouldn’t have been taken. Touya wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Fuyumi and Touya wouldn’t have had to work so hard for me.” He pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees. “... I’m sorry you got kidnapped, Hawks.” 

Goddamn Todorokis. 

Keigo shifts over a little. When Shouto doesn’t seem inclined to stop him, he slides over until he’s next to him, hesitantly putting an arm around him. 

Shouto leans into his side, shoulders taut, eyes focused ahead, completely dry. 

“I don’t know that you’ll believe me when I say this, but my getting birdnapped wasn’t your fault. There comes a time, after you’ve been a hero, when you have to learn that the only one you can blame for things is the villains. I don’t blame you for it. And I know that Touya doesn’t blame you for existing,” he says quietly. “... And I think we’d all be a hell of a lot less happy if you weren’t doing it.” 

Shouto nods once, his jaw set. Keigo has… no idea if that’s a good nod or a bad nod. Shouto is so hard to read, and he still hasn’t quite figured out his tells. 

“Mend said that Touya might have an ice Quirk,” Shouto says slowly. 

Keigo nods. “I know,” he says quietly.

“You know… why my parents had me, right?” he checks. 

“Touya explained,” he says, looking at him curiously. 

“I feel…” He hesitates. “I feel useless,” he says slowly. “If Touya has an ice Quirk, there was… no need for me. No one needed to suffer. Mom didn’t need to. Touya didn’t need to. I wasn’t necessary.” 

Keigo lets out a shaky laugh. “... Endeavor really fucked you up, didn’t he?” he asks quietly. 

Shouto looks at him, eyes wide. “... What do you mean?” he asks. 

“You’re not a tool, Shouto. You don’t need to be useful, or have a need for your existence in order to justify yourself. You don’t have to be necessary.” He lifts his hand, ruffling his hair. “You just gotta be, little chickadee.” He sighs. “But if you need a purpose… you make people happy. Whether you mean to or not. Do you think Midoriya or Bakugo would be happy if you stopped existing?” 

Shouto hesitates. “... No,” he says slowly. 

“There you go. That’s a purpose. You want to be a hero, too, don’t you?” he asks. 

“... Yes.” 

“There’s another. You’ll save people. Those are two pretty good purposes if you ask me. Saving people you don’t know, and making the people you do know happy. Sounds worth it to me. What do you think?” he asks, looking up into the sky. 

Shouto hums. “... Yeah. Sounds worth it,” he says quietly. “What’s yours, Hawks?” 

Keigo laughs, just a little bit hysterically. He’s in a hospital bed right now. “... Do you really have to ask?” he asks. 

He looks down, thoughtful. “No, I guess not.” Shouto looks over at him. “... I wasn’t lying, you know. You look terrible.” 

“You really know how to flatter a bird. All of you Todorokis have silver tongues,” he says dryly. 

“I just mean… Do you need help, Hawks?” he asks hesitantly. “We can watch Touya if you need to take some time. Go home, take a shower, take a nap. Get some food?” he suggests gently. 

Keigo shakes his head. “They’ve been letting me use the shower in his room. I can’t leave, Shou. I’m…” He shakes his head again. “I can’t. Not until he wakes up, at least.” 

Shouto nods. “Will you let us help you, then? You’re… Well, you’re family now.” He looks away, his face slightly pink. “If you want to be, I mean.” 

Keigo stares at him, eyes wide. He hears a little ecstatic-sounding chirrup and blinks before he realizes that it came from his own throat, escaping before he could stop it. God, he must be more exhausted than he thought. “Sorry,” he says quickly, coughing. 

Shouto blinks at him, lips parted in surprise. “Is that–a good sound?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Keigo ducks his head. “It’s–yeah. Yeah, it’s a good sound,” he mutters. He really needs to get these stupid bird sounds under control before he meets with the commission again. They’re not allowed, but something about the Todorokis seem to make him forget everything that’s allowed. 

Shouto smiles slightly. “I’m glad, then,” he says, looking away. “Will you let us? We can–pick up some clothes or something. What do you need?” 

Keigo shakes his head. “I have some clothes. If you can just… sit with Touya for a bit while I get my wings in order, that’ll help,” he says quietly. 

Shouto nods. “I can do that.” He stands up, offering a hand down to him. “Come on.” 

Keigo takes his hand, smiling.

He’s never really had a family before.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Touya… doesn’t expect to wake up again. 

He’s confused when he does, unconsciousness rolling back in waves. He’s more confused when he realizes that he doesn’t hurt nearly as much as he expects to. He aches, and his muscles feel… a little wrong? But he can feel, which is already more than he expected, and what he does feel doesn’t burn. He’s not on fire, he’s not burning. He hears the steady beep… beep… beep… next to him of hospital equipment.

The beeps start to speed up as he remembers exactly why he didn’t expect to wake up, why he expects to feel pain. 

Why is he still alive? 

How is he still alive? 

Where is Keigo? 

He feels a spike of pain in his chest, and he realizes distantly that he’s wheezing, that he can’t breathe. He’s choking–Chell’s face is burning under his palm, he’s hundreds of meters in the sky, falling, Trigger is racing through his veins, he’s burning, burning, burning, Endeavor is standing over him, and he’s burning, burning, burning. 

Touya hears something ringing–an alarm? The fire alarm, maybe? 

Oh. 

No. 

It’s his screams, echoing in the hospital room, he realizes distantly. He’s thrashing in the bed, screaming. 

“Touya!” someone yells, and oh, that voice–that voice would reach him anywhere. 

He reaches for it desperately, and arms slide around him, holding him together. 

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re okay, Touya, look, it’s okay, we’re okay, come on,” Keigo says in his ear. He feels weight on his chest, but it’s not the painful anvil of terror anymore, it’s the comforting weight of Keigo–he realizes that he dragged Keigo fully into his bed, all the way on top of him, wrapped his arms around him so tightly that it must hurt. 

“F-fuck,” Touya gasps into his neck, one hand reaching over Keigo’s shoulder for his wings, trying to reassure himself they’re still there. He touches one, feeling an intact feather rather than a mangled mess. “You’re alive,” he croaks. 

Keigo lets out a shaky laugh into his hair. “You’re alive. You’re the one we were worried about.” 

Touya shudders, his stomach roiling as he remembers falling, remembers his Quirk roaring, remembers burning. “... H-How? How am I…” 

“We’ll talk about it in a minute. Just breathe for a second,” he says firmly. “Back off!” he snaps over his shoulder at someone. “Give him a second!” 

“We need to check his–” 

“You’ll be able to in a minute!” Keigo growls. “Tsssk!” he chides, clacking his teeth. It goes silent, and he turns back to Touya, hands soft and soothing as they rub up and down his back. “You’re okay, it’s okay, no one’s gonna touch you but me, not right now,” he soothes.  

Touya curls into him, carding through his feathers with shaking hands. “Your wings,” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “They’re mostly back in.” 

“Mostly?” he repeats. 

Keigo nods. “Another day or two for the primaries to get to their full length.” 

Touya tenses. “... How long have I…?” 

Keigo leans more weight against him, pressing his hands more tightly against his back. “... Six days.” 

“Six…” The monitor next to him speeds up again. 

“Breathe, Touya.” 

“Fuyumi?” he asks, voice tight. 

“She’s awake. She’s alright. Worried about you,” Keigo says firmly.

“She’s okay,” he mumbles. “Shou? Natsuo? The kids?” 

“Everyone is okay,” Keigo says, leaning back just a few centimeters to take Touya’s face in his hands. “Everyone is okay. You are the only one still in the hospital, Touya.” 

Touya slumps. “... Fuck,” he gasps, almost bowled over with relief. “That’s fine then.” 

Keigo’s hands tighten almost painfully on his jaw. “No, Touya, it’s not,” he growls. 

Touya’s eyes fly up to his face. “What? What else is–did someone get away? Is Crush–?” 

“No. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you. Being here. This is not okay.” Keigo’s eyes are narrowed, his pupils narrowed to slits, and Touya’s never felt more like prey before. “You–god damn you, Touya Todoroki,” he snaps. “You almost died, do you understand that?” 

Touya winces. “... Yeah,” he says quietly. “I… Yeah.” 

Keigo takes a long, shaky breath. “We’re going to talk about this. The doctors need to–to check your IV. And everything else. Are you good for that? If I’m right here?” he asks, eyes sharp and focused. 

Touya grimaces, but nods. He’s not, not really. But if he has to, if Keigo won’t leave him. 

Keigo moves off of him carefully to the bedside chair, and Touya reaches for him with his left hand. He freezes, staring at the scar that curls around his left wrist. It’s–so much worse than he remembers, twisting and twirling all the way up his elbow and into the sleeve of his gown. 

He stares, his hand hovering over the bed. 

Wonder how much of you is left under the costume. You were burning through yourself pretty quickly. Bet you look like Frankenstein under there.

Tenko’s words burn through his brain. God. Does he look like Frankenstein now? How bad is it? 

Keigo’s palm presses into his own. “Touya,” he murmurs. “It’s not that bad.” 

Touya tips his head toward him, keeping his eyes on him as the nurses move forward to check on his IV and on the other lines connected to him to make sure he hasn’t ripped anything out during his thrashing, as they give him some water to drink and fuss over him. Slowly, he feels awareness settle into him. He’s careful not to look at himself any more than absolutely necessary. Keigo is silent while they work, just staring into his eyes, brows furrowed. 

“What’s your pain level, Todoroki?” one of the nurses asks gently. 

Touya considers. He’s… actually not really in all that much pain. Just a mild ache over… well, everything really. “I’m fine,” he mumbles. 

“One through ten, please,” she presses. 

He sighs. “One, then,” he mutters. 

Keigo’s hand spasms. “Try again.” 

He shifts, stretches. “Two,” he allows. 

“Touya.” 

“Two,” he insists. “It’s fine, I’m just–achey, a little. If I could get up and move it would be… better. I don’t want any pain medication right now, I want to be awake.” He already feels so exhausted, so fuzzy. He needs to talk to Keigo, though, he needs to know who’s okay, what happened. He needs a situation report as soon as possible. 

The nurse shakes her head. “We’re not going to do that quite yet. We’ll need to run a few tests, and we’ll need to have–” 

Keigo clacks his teeth, a warning sound that brings her up short. “Thanks. You can go,” he says firmly. 

The nurse huffs, leaning back. He catches sight of her badge. Kaori Kasumi. Kasumi shakes her head before turning to leave. “We’ll be back in a few hours to check on you, Todoroki. There’s a red button right next to you if you need anything sooner.” 

He nods, looking away. He’s more than familiar with how things work in hospitals by now. He waits until she leaves and the door closes behind her. “Alright. Talk,” he says, looking back to Keigo.

Keigo… looks tired, he realizes. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his lips are pulled down in a frown rather than holding that easy smile he always has. He’s wearing a familiar black hoodie with Twisted Sister on the front, and Touya’s eyes narrow. 

“... Wait a sec. Is that my hoodie? Did you cut wing holes into my hoodie?” he asks, baffled. 

Keigo looks down at it for a moment, then blinks at him. “... No,” he mumbles. 

“It. Kind of looks like you did?” Touya presses, leaning forward slightly. 

“Shou did,” he says, sighing. “I… Look, Touya, I’ve–been a little out of sorts, alright?” he mutters. “Your siblings thought having something of yours that I could wear would help.” 

“Oh,” Touya murmurs. He lifts the hand in his, pressing his lips to his knuckles. “... Did it?” 

Keigo lets out a shaky sigh. “... Yeah. It did. Not as much as seeing you awake.” 

And… oh, that makes him feel things. He feels the familiar tidal wave of love, threatening to pull him under. He swallows, looking down. “Tell me what happened?” 

“... What’s the last thing you remember?” 

Touya clamps down on his emotions, storing them away first. This is going to be unpleasant, all of this is, but he can’t keep freaking out, he can’t, not if they’re going to get through this. He takes a slow breath, then sorts through his memories, one hazy step at a time. 

“Chell,” he says slowly. “She stabbed me.” He places a hand on his stomach hesitantly, looking over to Keigo, who already looks pale. 

“... Yeah. You’re–fine,” he replies shakily. “What else?” 

“I burned her. We fought… There was a portal.” He tenses, muscles jumping as he remembers the air, the bar in the distance, the absolute lack of control as he flipped, end over end. “Falling. I didn’t–I can’t fly. Like… he can. My flames don’t… I couldn’t save myself.” He’s looking at the wall now. “I used the Trigger you had. Where did you even get that?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Keigo swallows. “Mend.” 

“Mend. Right. Who is–” 

“In a minute. Keep going.” 

Touya exhales sharply. “I burned,” he says, voice cracking. “It worked. I flew, for a few seconds, enough to not–hit so hard. And then… I think you were… there?” he asks, squinting at him. “I remember seeing you.” 

“I was,” he confirms. His eyes are unusually intense, even for him. “You said something to me. Do you remember what you said, Touya?” he asks. 

“I… said…?” He hesitates. Something tells him this is important. Maybe the most important thing. Keigo seems to think so, anyway. He racks his brain, brow furrowed. “I… asked if you were okay,” he remembers. It’s like thinking through cheese wire, painful as he tries to drag the memories back out of those last, dim seconds, the screaming, the dim memories of burning numbness. 

He remembers the feelings he had, the love, the devotion, the joy that he didn’t have to die alone. The gratitude he felt in knowing that his kids would be taken care of, that Keigo loved them as much as Touya did. Did he–say any of that out loud? 

He has, for just a moment, with perfect clarity, the memory of Keigo’s face crumpling into tears just before the world went dark, rife with more emotions than words could ever hope to convey. He must have. 

“Did I… tell you that I…?” he tilts his head. 

Keigo lets go of his hand, then stands up, pacing away, and suddenly he feels cold panic wash through him. Does Keigo–not love him? 

But–he’d been so sure. 

“Do you–Touya, can you even begin to understand how much it hurt? To see you like that?” he asks, his voice taut. “And then–and then!” He whirls, feathers puffed up and angry. “And then you had the nerve to tell me that you–! I thought you had died! Right after telling me that you loved me, you asshole! You didn’t even give me time to…” He scrubs a hand across his face angrily. “You put yourself last. Always. Every single time, Touya. You can’t do that anymore. You can’t, do you understand? You matter to people, dammit. Natsuo cares, Fuyumi cares! Shouto cares! I care. Fucking Bakugo and Midoriya care! Everyone you meet cares about you, and you keep throwing yourself into the flames like tinder.” 

Touya pulls his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He sets his chin atop them, staring at Keigo. “I’m…” He swallows. Touya’s really bad at apologies. He wants to lash out and leave, to shout and scratch back, but it’s not like he can exactly go anywhere. And Keigo deserves more than that. Deserves more than Touya, really, but Touya can only give himself. So he’ll… try. He’ll give his best, better, even, because Keigo is worth it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Can I… explain myself?” he asks. 

Keigo holds out his hand, waiting. 

“I’ve… never been important, Keigo. Before you argue, let me finish. I’ve never been important,” he stresses. “Endeavor treated me like a tool from the moment I was born. He wanted a child who was strong enough to become number one and outrank All Might on the hero charts. That’s all he ever wanted, and that’s all I was ever supposed to become. I wasn’t important, my Quirk was. And then even that wasn’t, when I couldn’t keep up with it. My mother… She was never–” He chokes, burying his forehead into his knees for a moment. “She was never there. She couldn’t notice any of us enough for us to be important to her. I shouldn’t even blame her, even though I do. She never wanted any of us, I don’t think, not really. And ‘Tsuo and ‘Yumi… I couldn’t talk to them about anything, not at home. They were too young, and if they knew anything, it would get back to him one way or another. So I wasn’t important to them–not really. What I could do for them was important to them. Maybe it’s different now; I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d even notice. I’m… I’m not sure how to measure my own importance, really. With others, with classmates, with Tenko, it was always what I could do for them. How I could help them with school work, how I could be Endeavor’s kid. With other heroes, it was a connection to the number two hero. I was never myself, I was always a series of connections, a series of things to get something from.”

Touya shifts, running his hands through his hair. “And then. You.” 

Keigo makes an angry noise in the back of his throat, a warbling noise that sounds like a warning. 

“Let me finish,” Touya insists, slightly amused. 

“If you’re about to enumerate the ways that you’re not important to me,” Keigo starts, leaning forward. 

“Keigo,” he chides. “I said let me finish, stupid ass bird!” 

He huffs, settling back on his heels. His feathers are ruffled, his wings puffed up so high that Touya wants to run his hands through them and soothe them back down. 

“And then, you,” he starts again, meeting his eyes. “You had no reason to need me. In fact, you had reasons to actively dislike me. You shouldn’t have liked me at all. I lit you on fire. I was rude to you every chance I had. I refused to talk to you more often than not. But you decided to stay, to… figure me out,” Touya says slowly. “Me. Not my Quirk. Not my father.” He crosses his arms. “And you didn’t leave when I had nothing to give you.” 

“Of course I didn’t leave,” Keigo says, his voice softening. He grips the end of the bed, staring at him. “Of course I didn’t.” 

“I’ve known, for a while, that it would be… easy to love you, Keigo,” he says carefully. “I was terrified of you. God, I’m still so fucking terrified of you.” 

Keigo’s pupils narrow back down to slits, his hands clutching tighter. 

“Giving you that kind of power over me, letting you have my–my feelings? My sanity, like that? Fuck. Just kill me, it’ll be faster for all of us.” 

Keigo lets out a broken little sound. 

“Sorry. Bad joke. I just–I need you to understand. I’m… I don’t know how to do this in a normal way, Birdie. I was trying so hard not to love you, because if I fell, it was all or nothing, and I was so sure you wouldn’t want to catch me at the bottom. But it was–it was hard. You’d smile at me, or we’d–we’d…” He lets out a shaky breath. “And then I didn’t have a choice any more. You pulled me down, that night after Endeavor came. I was going to tell you, as soon as we were alone. But…” He gestures to the hospital. “I didn’t get the chance. I did everything I could not to die because–I… Keigo, for the first time in twenty-two years, I didn’t want to die.” 

“Twenty-three,” Keigo whispers. 

“... What?” 

“Your birthday. Passed. While you were unconscious. You’re twenty-three now.” 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Twenty-three years, then.” He smiles a small, shaky little smile. “Is that all you got out of that? I’m telling you that you’re it for me, Keigo. You’ll be it. If you want me, I’m yours. If you don’t, then–then–” He chokes again, his nails digging into his knees. “Don’t tell me. Just leave, and don’t look back.” 

“You’re so–” Keigo makes another angry little trilling noise. “How many ways can I say it? How many times?” he asks, coming around the end of the bed. He sits down in front of him on the bed, reaching up to grab his face, just on this side of too hard. “I am whatever you want me to be,” he says firmly. “I love you, you idiot. I am in love with you. You are important to me.” 

Touya stares at him, eyes wide. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh,” he says.

Touya lets his knees fall to the side, crossing his legs. “... Can I–” He swallows. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly. 

Keigo’s answer is swift, lips crashing against Touya’s. He grabs onto Keigo’s shoulders, gripping at the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer. It gets messy quickly, turning to teeth and tongue and gasps, Keigo halfway dragged into his lap, one hand buried in the downy feathers where they swap from scapulars to secondary coverts. 

Yeah, he probably shouldn’t be surprised when the nurse opens the door. 

“... Hawks, that is not conducive to Todoroki’s recovery,” Kasumi says sternly. 

They break apart quickly, Keigo falling off the bed with a squawk. Touya drops his head back on the pillows, sure that his face is bright red. “... I thought you weren’t coming back for a few hours,” he mutters churlishly. 

“I wasn’t, and then your heart rate spiked,” she chides. 

“Shitty heart,” he grumbles.

“Either way. You have visitors,” she adds. “You should probably–be decent.” 

Touya looks down at his arms, at the burns on display. “I never allow visitors,” he says flatly.

Kasumi looks back at him, unimpressed. “You’ve had visitors for the last six days,” she says. 

“Who approved–?” 

Keigo coughs. “Fuyumi’s your emergency contact. You really think she wasn’t going to let Shouto and Natsuo come see you? That she wasn’t going to come see you?” he asks. 

His brow furrows. “... Can I have a minute?” he asks Kasumi, voice quiet. 

She nods. “I’ll come back in ten to see if you’re ready.” She heads back out of the room, shutting the door. 

Touya closes his eyes tightly for a moment. “... How bad is it?” he asks, gesturing to himself. 

“Half as bad as you think it is,” Keigo answers. He takes Touya’s hand. “And a thousandth as bad as it really ought to be considering what–what happened,” he says, his voice slightly choked. 

He takes a deep breath. “... Are you wearing something under that hoodie?” he asks, thinking of taking it to cover his arms, at the very least. 

“Are you asking me what I’m wearing?” Keigo asks, wiggling his brows. 

“Kei,” he chides, breaking into a little laugh.

Keigo’s eyes soften, and he sways forward. “... I like that. Kei,” he clarifies quietly. 

“... Yeah?” Touya asks quietly, tilting his head toward him. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I do.”

Touya reaches out, tugging on the front of his hoodie to pull him back in for another kiss. It’s softer, kinder, less urgent. The ocean’s tide sways back in, but it’s… less overwhelming this time. Warm, less threatening, now that he knows Keigo won’t drown him in it for now, that he can lay on his back and float. Maybe there are sharks in the water, or undercurrents that will pull him down later, but for now, he can let the tide take him. 

Chapter Text

Mend’s Quirk is… weird. Touya watches the scars on his arm lighten, adjust, and raise, slowly and in real time, piece by piece, feels it shifting and rearranging. It’s…

It feels kind of disgusting actually? A little nauseating. 

They’re not perfectly healed, but they are less prominent, looking years old rather than days, like smaller patches of first degree burns rather than the myriad of third degree burns that it had been. His Quirk is kind of amazing, frankly. 

Touya looks up at Mend’s face, watching his face. His eyes are shut, a bead of sweat dripping down his neck. He lets go of his hands, eyes fluttering open. 

“Alright. I think that’s it for today.” He yawns. “Honestly, I think the rest will heal on their own,” he says thoughtfully. “After a little while. I could get the knife wound on your jaw, too, I guess, but that one wasn’t my fault,” he says, smirking. 

Touya raises a brow. “Is that the only reason you’re healing the burns?” he asks. “I had assumed it was a condition of your parole.” 

“It is,” Eraser intones from the doorway. 

Mend snorts. “Because I gave Hawks Trigger, which you decided to take. So, it’s apparently my fault that you’re crispy.” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s my Quirk’s fault that I’m crispy,” he says, shrugging. 

“Well, maybe we’ll fix that,” he says with a smirk, wiggling his fingers. “Next session, eh?” 

Touya blinks at him. “... What?” 

Mend leans back. “Oh. Did they not…? Ah. I see. I’ve said too much.” He stands up off of the bed quickly. “Foot in mouth. That’s my cue to leave immediately and find someone qualified and paid enough to fix whatever I just broke. Bye, Comet!” he says quickly, turning to leave. 

“Mend!” he snaps. 

“No, absolutely not. I’ll burn for you, Comet, but I am not having whatever feelings talk you want to have about that mess. Let me go get your bird,” he says, holding up a hand. “... Or your hot brother, actually. That’s a better option. Let me go find him.” 

“My what?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yeah. Yay tall? Built like a brick shithouse? Looks like he could break me in half, smart as hell, getting a medical degree?” Mend asks, waving his hand at roughly Natsuo’s height. He sighs wistfully, leaning slightly to one side. “Put in a good word for me, will you?” 

“You are not going to date Natsuo,” he says firmly. 

Mend groans, looking over to Eraser. “Why do the Todorokis hate me?” he asks in a whine. 

“Because you’re insufferable?” he suggests, voice flat. “If I weren’t in charge of you, I might have pushed you off of something very tall by now.” 

“Flatterer,” Mend replies, walking out the door. 

Eraser sighs noisily, following him out. 

So… Touya sits. Waiting. 

He’s been in the hospital for eight days at this point, and he’s about to go fully insane, he thinks. He can get up and move around now, and honestly, he’s probably fine, all things considered. He stands up, stretching his aching muscles, and starts pacing. He was lucky enough that there were a combination of Quirks that made his recovery so much better than it really should have been. He knew a six day coma should have made him… well, frankly, kind of useless for a while. The fact that he could move this well, this quickly, was nothing short of a miracle of Quirk science. 

Mend was partially to thank, as well as a combination of other minor healing Quirks. This hospital was really well-renowned and frankly way out of his price range. He was not thrilled at the concept of seeing the bill for the services. 

Touya’s in the middle of stretching out his legs, one leg on the bed, leaning over to grip the bottom of his heel when Keigo walks in, feathers fluffed up and looking brighter eyed than normal. 

He freezes, eyes locked on Touya, following the line of his stretch, pupils expanding. 

… Ah. 

Right. 

They’re–together now. But they haven’t had time to be together yet, not with Touya in the hospital. Touya stands up immediately, clearing his throat. “... Hey,” he says. 

Keigo opens his mouth like he’s going to reply, but instead all that comes out is a breathless little chirp. 

Jesus. 

Touya walks over quickly, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him in for a rough kiss. Keigo melts into him, grabbing his hips in a tight grip. Touya rubs his thumb along the side of Keigo’s neck, pleased at the feel of his pulse speeding up underneath it, and sighs, pulling back. 

“... Hi,” Keigo says breathlessly. 

“Hi,” Touya agrees. His brow furrows slightly. “Did Mend send you in?” 

“No. Why? Did something go wrong with the healing?” he asks, already leaning back to look him over. 

“No. He just–said something.” Touya fidgets with a strand of hair at the back of his neck. “I made a joke. Something about being…” He sighs, looking away, because these jokes always make a slightly haunted look come into Keigo’s eye now. “Something about being crispy. And he said that maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about that?” he asks, raising a brow. 

Keigo tenses in his arms, eyes wide and alarmed. “Oh.” 

Touya steps back, tilting his head. “... Oh?” he asks flatly. 

“Okay. So. I was going to wait until–until you were healed to talk about it. Because it’s… kind of a big deal? And I’m not sure what you’ll think.” He shifts, his wings pulling in tight. 

“Spit it out.” 

“Mend explained how his Quirk works, right?” Keigo asks. 

“Yeah. He knows I stubbed my toe when I was three or whatever. What’s the point?” he presses, glaring. 

“Well–he, uh… He said your Quirk might have another aspect to it,” Keigo says slowly, eyes locked on his face, pupils pinned. Touya was beginning to learn that the combination of pinned pupils and tucked wings, slightly hunched shoulders all meant that Keigo was stressed. 

Touya starts to reach for him, halfway through making a comforting motion before the words he said registers. He freezes. 

“... What?” 

Keigo shifts slightly, then steels himself. “I don’t have a gentle way to say it, and I don’t think you want me to beat around the bush anyway, so I’m just going to throw it out there. Mend thinks you might have an ice component to your Quirk, too. In addition to Blueflame.” 

… What? 

No, what? 

“What?” Touya repeats blankly. 

“He thinks Trigger might have–brought it to the surface, but that it was probably always there. That maybe that’s why you–burn,” Keigo says slowly. “Because you’re not. Using it to balance your flames.”