## Preface

Sunday afternoon
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/24204196.

Rating:
  Explicit
Archive Warning:
  No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
  M/M
Fandom:
  僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Relationship:
  Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks
Characters:
  Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi | Todoroki Touya
Additional Tags:
  Porn with Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Feelings, Soft Takami Keigo | Hawks, Soft Dabi (My Hero Academia), I just need them to be soft okay?, Pigeon Verse
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 10 of Pigeon Verse
Stats:
  Published: 2020-05-15 Words: 1,574 Chapters: 1/1

# Sunday afternoon

by EloFromMars

Summary

> Dabi is determined to make Hawks rest. He didn't expect that.

Notes

> So, as per usual, Clara triggered the muse by just sending me a rough sketch. Plus canon is too painful, I needed to heal.

> Enjoy the soft and the fluff.

See the end of the work for more notes

## Sunday afternoon

Dabi flutters his eyes open and stretches like a cat in the large bed. The afternoon sun floods the bedroom through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming up his body. Not that he really needs it but it’s not unpleasant. The playlist they started before falling asleep is still playing, filling the silence with soft voices and quiet harmonies.

Dabi doesn’t remember what peaceful means. Or at least he didn’t until now. To be fair, he's not even sure he ever experienced it in his life. He stares at the clear view of Tokyo’s rooftops on that Sunday afternoon and his mind is calm. Quiet. He turns his head and the view on that side is even better.

Hawks is fast asleep, curled under his wing, Pigeon rolled up in a small ball of dark fur just under his chin. Dabi rolls on his side and looks at the two sleeping beauties for a little while, thoughts drifting to places he never thought he would go one day. He knows it’s temporary. That all this masquerade will end one day and that it’s going to hurt like a bitch. He knows it but at the same time, he can’t find the strength to stop it. For the first time in his life, he feels normal. Adjusted.

He reaches slowly for the red feathers and gently strokes a primary. Hawks hums in his sleep but doesn't wake up. Dabi doesn’t insist. God knows Hawks need all the extra sleep he can get. It’s already a miracle Dabi managed to drag him for a nap. Hawks doesn't nap. He feels like he’s wasting time if he sleeps. He wants to make the best of his rare days off, binge a show, stuff his mouth with as much junk food as it’s humanly possible, go out for shopping, or a movie, or something. He doesn’t know how to stay still, how to just be. He has to move, always.

As he pushes a blond strand that has fallen in front of Hawks' eyes, Dabi wonders if the hero who proclaims everywhere that he wants more free time, that he wants to chill and be lazy, actually knows how to.

Pigeon opens a blue eye and yawns, showing her sharp little fangs. She uncurls and clumsily waddles on the many pillows until she can bump her small head against Dabi’s arm. He scratches her between the ears and under the chin. She nips at the tip of his fingers, rolling on her back to attack his hand with purpose.

He’s so focused on Pigeon’s fierce attempts to catch one of his staples that he startles when a soft wing brushes against him. He meets Hawks’ still half-asleep gaze with a small smile.

“Time is it?” Hawks’ voice is slurred, still heavy with sleep.

“Lazy o’clock,” Dabi answers. “Ouch, Pidge, seriously, your fucking claws.”

Hawks snorts and Pigeon mewls, offended by his outburst, launching another assault toward his hand, all claws and baby teeth out. The hero sends a few feathers to fetch his phone where he left it in the living room but Dabi intercepts it before it reaches Hawks' outstretched palm.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Dabi grabs one of the many books he has stacked on his nightstand and shoves it in Hawks’ hand. “Nope, no phone. You’re off today and I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to help yourself and check your emails.”

Hawks pouts but doesn’t try to fight Dabi, which is no little accomplishment. “Why do you even care?”

“I don’t. I just want to be lazy and I don’t want to listen to you bitch because of something work-related.”

With a grunt, Hawks flops on his back, wings unfolded, and stares at the cover of the book. “That’s a book I wanted to read.”

“You mentioned, yeah.” Dabi picks up his current read to the page he marked, diving back in Ulysses’ adventures.

“Thanks,” Hawks whispers after a while.

“Huh? Don’t thank me. I bought it with your money. ‘s not like it’s a gift or anything.”

“But you remembered.”

“You seem surprised.” Dabi scrunches his nose as he goes through a paragraph. That translation is really not the best one he’s ever read. “You know, I actually listen when you babble.”

Hawks remains silent and Dabi thinks that he’s finally going to be able to enjoy his read in peace. He groans when the book is taken from his hands and the curse ready to roll off his tongue is muffled by a pair of soft lips. His eyes close, and his arms fall limp by his sides. The kiss is slow, soft, deprived of the usual hunger and urgency. Without breaking it, Hawks moves to slot between Dabi’s legs, his warm, toned body pressed flush against the patchwork of Dabi’s skin.

Hawks pulls away slightly, his golden eyes staring at Dabi without blinking. There’s something in that gaze that pulls at Dabi’s heartstrings, like a hook just under his ribs that keeps tugging him toward someone who should be his nemesis, another target for his contempt and hatred.

Dabi smirks to hide his trouble. “Not that I’m complaining or anything but what is it for?”

Hawks opens his mouth to answer but no sound passes his parted lips. Dabi tilts his head. “What? Did Pigeon get your tongue or something?”

Hawks snorts and drops his head on Dabi’s chest. “Moron.”

Dabi chuckles and runs a hand in the messy blond strands. He sighs contentedly when he feels Hawks’ mouth moving on the healthy part of his chest. Lips he knows better than his own follow the seam just above his left pec, small kisses dropped between each staple. A clever tongue attacks his nipple, sucking on the metal bar stud in the flesh. He groans softly, tugging gently on the locks tangled between his fingers.

Hawks keeps going, meticulously mapping every inch of his skin, scarred and healthy alike, and for once, Dabi doesn’t feel the need to squirm or get away from the touches. Usually, he doesn’t like it when people linger on his scars or pay too close attention to his body, but now, he finds that he doesn’t mind. Hawks’ attention feels like a comfortable blanket, something safe, something known.

The hook under his ribs tugs harder, the strings pulled taught by the way Hawks lavishes him with soft touches.

Desire and want flood his veins, like a gentle current, warming him up the marrow of his bones, as sure as the rays of sun hitting their tangled bodies. He sighs and moans quietly, and the sound is captured by Hawks’ mouth once again.

Their tongues slide against each other, the dance familiar and completely new at the same time. There’s something new in that kiss, almost careful, almost tender, a little bit shy and tentative.

Gentle hands pet his sides, sharp talons grazing carefully against the numb patches of skin but Dabi shivers nonetheless. Their hips roll together in rhythm, and Dabi gasps against Hawks’ lips at the friction. Hawks nips at his bottom lip, playful, and there’s an unidentified glint in his eyes. Dabi smiles back and his hands leave the messy locks to wrap around the roots of Hawks’ wings. It’s Hawks’ turn to gasp, his hips thrusting forward, his length pressing harder against Dabi’s. Dabi arches his back as a wave of pleasure washing over him.

“Please,” he whispers.

A bunch of tertiaries leaves the red wings to fetch the small bottle on Hawks’ nightstand. Hawks lifts Dabi’s hips up, strong hands cupping his ass cheeks and supporting his weight like it’s nothing. Dabi feels the familiar pressure against his entrance and his eyes close again as Hawks pushes forward, stretching him slowly and filling him in a way that makes Dabi see stars every time.

Hawks’ head falls on his chest once more as he stills, buried deep inside Dabi. Hot puffs of breath tickle the unscarred part of his torso. Dabi lifts his legs, trapping Hawks between his thighs and reveling in the way the feathers brush against his skin.

Hawks begins to move, the pace languid, gentle. Dabi wraps his arms around the hero’s neck, keeping him close to his racing heart. Hawks knows how to play Dabi’s body like a violin, nailing his soft spot with every shallow thrust. Dabi trembles and clings to the strong body moving inside him, eyes closed, breath labored, head empty but heart so full.

He whispers Hawks’ name like a mantra, a prayer, a plea for not stopping. Dabi wants to find the pause button and press it, he wants to remain here for the next century, with Hawks inside him, with his body and wings shielding him from the ugly and the bad, from heartbreaks and betrayals.

He wants to save the grace of that moment.

Each thrust, each sweet nothing whispered against his heated skin, each quiet moan of pleasure escaping Hawks’ mouth, echoing his own, takes him higher and higher. His whole body clenches around Hawks as he comes in the most overwhelming but at same time gentle way.

Hawks follows him in the fall, body shaking and wings fluttering, hugging Dabi impossibly closer, as if he was trying to carve his way under his skin.

Dabi’s heart swells and blossoms. He presses against Hawks, holding on to that moment.

The hook sinks deeper, the strings tangle inextricably.

I love you.

## Afterword

End Notes

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