Tickletober

Light tickles

It was a quiet evening in their shared apartment, the low hum of city life seeping in through the cracked window. Hawks lay sprawled out on the couch, one wing lazily draped over the armrest while the other fluttered softly in a half-asleep daze. Dabi, his usual sarcastic edge softened for the evening, sat beside him, one leg tucked under himself as he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone.

"Hey," Dabi's gravelly voice broke the comfortable silence. Hawks, barely awake, blinked lazily up at him, offering a lazy grin.

"What's up?" Hawks asked, his voice a low murmur. His golden eyes sparkled with that familiar, mischievous glint.

Dabi didn't answer right away. Instead, a rare smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he set his phone down on the table. He turned toward Hawks, one hand casually brushing against the feathers of his wing.

That light touch alone made Hawks twitch. He didn't think much of it until he felt it again, a little firmer this time, but still soft.

"What are you—" Hawks started, only to be cut off by a sharp intake of breath as Dabi's fingers trailed along his side, featherlight but deliberate. Hawks' wings ruffled, and he bit back a grin, feeling the unmistakable flutter of ticklishness build under his skin.

"Dabi." he tried to sound serious, but the threat was ruined by a snicker that escaped his lips. Dabi raised an eyebrow, his smile growing as he watched the usually unshakable pro hero squirm beneath his touch.

"Oh, is the mighty Hawks ticklish?" Dabi's tone was teasing, the usual edge replaced with something far more playful. His hand lingered at Hawks' side, fingers now lightly tracing the sensitive skin beneath the feathers.

Hawks squirmed, his wings twitching as he fought the urge to burst out laughing. "Dabihi, c'mon! I'm serihohous—"

But Dabi knew better. The hero's protests only encouraged him, and without warning, his fingers danced up Hawks' ribs, brushing in delicate patterns. Hawks' laugh came out unrestrained this time, light and breathy, his golden eyes squeezed shut as he tried to wriggle away.

"Stohohop! Thahat tickles!" Hawks finally managed between giggles, but he made no serious effort to get away. His wings flapped slightly, and his whole body wiggled as Dabi's hand continued its slow, torturous assault along his side and under his arm.

"Yeah, that's kind of the point," Dabi chuckled, his hand never stopping. His other hand joined in, tickling up Hawks' sides in soft, slow strokes that made Hawks dissolve into more laughter.

The sound of Hawks' laughter filled the room, light and musical, something that always caught Dabi off guard. It was so... unguarded. A rare glimpse into the side of the hero no one else got to see, the side that wasn't burdened by responsibility or the weight of his wings.

Hawks, half-trying to push Dabi's hands away, gasped for breath, his laughter finally dying down as Dabi slowed his fingers. Dabi watched him, his expression softening as he took in the sight of Hawks' flushed cheeks, his messy hair, and his carefree grin.

"Yohou're terrible," Hawks muttered, still giggling as he tried to catch his breath. But there was no real heat in his words. In fact, there was something undeniably warm about the way he looked at Dabi, his eyes softened by affection.

"Yeah, but you love me for it," Dabi teased, letting his hand rest on Hawks' stomach, this time without any tickling intent.

Hawks sighed, still smiling as he shifted to lean his head against Dabi's shoulder. "Maybe I do."

Dabi's hand moved up, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of Hawks' face. He didn't say anything in return—he didn't need to. The quiet that followed was comfortable, warm, and filled with unspoken understanding.

In that moment, Hawks didn't mind the tickling, not really. After all, it was these quiet moments, these playful, tender moments, that reminded him why he loved Dabi in the first place.