"Will you fight with me?"

"Will you fight with me?" [DabiHawks]

Hawks' bedsheets were divine against his scarred skin, the silk so tightly woven that it didn't catch on his staples. Since he started staying at the hero's apartment, and not only sneaking in and out when the flat was empty to make sure the pigeon wasn't selling out information about the League to the Commission, he swore he had the best good night's sleeps in almost twenty years, waking up well rested and with a welcome, warm body draped over his chest.

It was ridiculous. Hawks should have been more wary of him, more suspicious. He should have kicked him out of his flat as soon as he found the arsonist chilling on his sofa the first time; instead, he'd had the nerve to invite him over for dinner, like they weren't fucking archnemeses fated to kill each other sooner rather than later.

What was even more ridiculous was that he accepted and actually cooked for the dumb bird and himself. Why. Why did he do so, he really couldn't understand.

But that was a blatant lie, and he knew it.

It was just easier to admit that a nice, hot, proper meal sounded better than whatever they managed to put together at the League's headquarters, and surely enough the hero was a better sight to look at than a crazy teenager and her even crazier best friend, a flamboyant magician, a hikikomori lizard and, of course, their psychotic leader.

Plus, Hawks kept praising and teasing him for the yakisoba he'd prepared, claiming it was the best dish he's ever had, his mouth stuffed with noodles and sighing with contentment and utter joy. Dabi had just snorted.

"Better than yakitori?"

The hero, quite rudely, had pointed at him with his chopsticks, suddenly serious and almost insulted.

"Now, now, don't flatter yourself so much. This is pretty good, but you could never beat Yoritomi's chicken"

The villain had looked straight back at him, exasperation and a tinge of defiance in his aquamarine irises.

"Bet I could"

"Oh, please". Hawks had rolled his eyes, and swallowed some more noodles.

"You're hurting me, pigeon" Dabi had replied, feigning offence and placing his chopsticks on top of his bowl, the savoury aftertaste still lingering on his burned palate.

The hero had huffed. "C'mon, yakitori and yakisoba are nothing alike, you just want to brag"

Dabi had then leaned over the small table, his nose almost touching the hero's. Hawks' pupils had narrowed into pinpricks, his wings ruffling on his back for the sudden proximity. He'd swallowed again, his mouth empty, and the arsonist's Cheshire smile had widened, a warm feeling garbling in his chest like every time he made the hero nervous.

"Try me, pretty bird"

Hawks' cheeks had flushed, his eyes darting to the villain's mouth for an instant before coming back to his turquoise pools, and nodded mindlessly.

Dabi had kept close to the bird's face for a couple more seconds, before retracting and standing up, unfazed.

"W-where are you going?" Hawks had stumbled on his own words, his feathers quivering anxiously, his tone disappointed. He was almost cute, Dabi had stupidly thought.

"I have work to do, you know" he'd stated like it was obvious, sarcasm saturating his words. "Unlike you heroes, we villains don't have the privilege to sleep the night over. No rest for the wicked, or whatever the phrase goes"

He couldn't even put one foot before the other, though, because Hawks' voice reached him again, shy. He'd never heard the hero waver, and his curiosity won him over.