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Running water wakes Hawks. It’s late - really late - but the shower is running, which can only mean one thing. Dabi’s nightmares are back.
Climbing out of bed, Hawks rubs sleep from his eyes, stretching his wings before pattering down the hall to the bathroom. The door isn’t locked. It never is. Dabi might act like he needs space, but he knows Hawks always comes to check on him.
“Dabi,” Hawks calls, keeping his voice collected and neutral. He knows that Dabi needs him to be grounded. If Hawks freaks out, Dabi closes off, pulling in on himself and refusing to work things out.
There’s no response over the sound of the shower, so Hawks pushes the door open, stepping over Dabi’s discarded pajamas. Something sharp jabs his sole, and he watches a staple fly across the floor as he shakes his foot in surprise, managing to prevent his hiss of pain from slipping out.
Hawks leans against the bathroom counter, letting his wings do whatever they feel like, which right now means resting half-open, filling the room with comforting crimson. Through the shower’s glass, he examines Dabi. His back is turned, and Hawks can see his shoulders shaking.
Dabi isn’t crying. He never does. That’s not what he’s doing. Hawks knows all too well what Dabi’s tremors mean. The bathroom mirror is indication enough: It’s not steamed. No, it’s not raw emotion that’s wracking his boyfriend’s body. It’s the water - cold, numbing, “wash away the horrors of the bones in my closet” water.
“Hey,” Hawks murmurs, “Ten more seconds, then I’m pullin’ ya out.” He says the words with warmth in his voice, but his heart aches for Dabi. He hates seeing him like this, but he knows that scolding Dabi or expressing his concern for him really goes nowhere - nowhere productive anyway. So he lets Dabi linger for a few more seconds before pulling the plug.
In truth, Dabi has issues controlling his quirk when his nightmares and PTSD flare-up, and cold water helps bring his body temperature down - to an extent. But eventually, he reaches a point where it’s no longer about soothing his burning skin. Eventually, it crosses over to letting himself become numb, and that’s when standing in the frigid shower water is no longer productive. That’s when Hawks intervenes, pulling Dabi out and wrapping him up in warm towels and his wings.
Ten seconds.
Hawks pushes himself off of the counter, reaching into the shower and turning the water off. Dabi doesn’t move to stop him, nor does he respond - the only sound coming from him is the chittering of his teeth as he shivers.
“Come ‘ere, babe.” Hawks takes Dabi’s cold, wet hand into his own, leading him out of the shower. Frost prickles under Hawks’ skin as he reads the familiar vacancy in Dabi’s unfocused eyes. “Let’s get you dry.”
Hawks pulls an obnoxious merch towel out from under the sink. He was given it after promoting some brand of cereal he’s already forgotten, and it’s covered in little cereal pieces with a cartoon version of his likeness flying amidst the whole-grain chaos. He knows Dabi hates it and that’s why he grabs it.
Hate isn’t the right word. Dabi doesn’t actually care; it’s just an act he pulls as part of his aloof and better-than-thou attitude. So when Hawks pulls the cringe-worthy towel around his shoulders, it’s enough to bring the smallest of twinges to the corner of his mouth - the ghost of an amused smile flickering for a moment.
They make their way back to their room, Hawks getting Dabi settled back into bed, and Dabi allowing it to happen. These late-night moments are about give and take - not in the brutal, harsh way that their relationship started in but in an “I’m here for you, and I know you’re here for me” way. Some nights, Dabi is the one comforting Hawks, when the winged-hero suffers from terrors of his own.
Nothing in their relationship is one-sided - not anymore.
“So,” Hawks hums, slipping beneath their sheets and scooching over to pull Dabi into his chest, wrapping his wings over them and kissing his boyfriend's cold nose. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He doesn’t have to elaborate. He always asks. Sometimes, Dabi surprises him, opening up and letting go of his demons in little bursts of truth. Tonight, he just shakes his head.
“Same shit.” Dabi’s words, flat and monotone, leave his lips in little more than a whisper.
“Mmkay,” Hawks murmurs, nuzzling his head against Dabi’s chest. “Can I tell you about one of my old interns?” It’s a diversion tactic. If Dabi doesn’t want to talk about his nightmares, then Hawks will chatter away idly about safe topics - topics that have nothing to do with Dabi - until they fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Sure.” Dabi’s tone is already improving, containing slight traces of affection for his feather-brained partner.
Hawks smiles, trailing kisses across Dabi’s collarbone and up his neck before launching into a story about bird-related antics he pulled with Tokoyami a while back. Something about making an entire bird between the two of them - whatever that means. It doesn’t really make sense, but that doesn’t matter.
Between the warmth of Hawks’ body and his amusing anecdote, Dabi isn’t cold anymore, and the pain he’s tried so hard to numb melts away as he feels the rhythm of Hawks’ chest against his - their hearts beating together in harmony as they slip slowly into sleep.