MHA Holdiay series

The flickering candlelight danced across Dabi's scarred face, softening the harsh lines he usually wore like armor. Ten years. Ten years since he'd tentatively, suspiciously, let that feathery whirlwind, Hawks, into his meticulously constructed world of solitude and controlled chaos. Ten years and a lifetime of defiance against everything that was supposed to be.

Hawks, ever the flamboyant one, had insisted on this rooftop dinner. Dabi, ever the grumbling one, had reluctantly agreed. The city lights stretched out beneath them, a glittering tapestry reflecting in Hawks' golden eyes, which, tonight, held a tenderness that always managed to disarm Dabi.

"Ten years, huh?" Hawks said, his voice a low murmur that cut through the city's hum. He reached across the small table, his hand, calloused from flight, covering Dabi's.

Dabi's skin still prickled where Hawks touched him, a ghost of the burns that relentlessly reminded him of his past. He'd spent years expecting Hawks to recoil, to be repulsed. But he never did. He just held on tighter.

"Yeah," Dabi grunted, avoiding eye contact. "Don't get all sentimental on me, Winged Hero."

Hawks chuckled, a warm, familiar sound that eased the knots in Dabi's shoulders. "Too late. Besides, you're allowed a little sentimentality after a decade, Hot Stuff."

He called him that, sometimes, a little inside joke about Dabi's quirk and their undeniably fiery relationship. It had started as a mission, Hawks infiltrating the League of Villains, assigned to get close to Dabi. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred, the deception crumbled, and they found themselves drawn to each other in a way that defied logic and reason.

"Remember that first time you saw my apartment?" Hawks asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The one that looked like a halfway house for delinquent pigeons?"

Dabi allowed himself a small, rare smile. "Don't remind me. I nearly set the whole building on fire just to disinfect it."

Hawks laughed, a genuine, unrestrained sound that made Dabi's heart clench in a way he never expected. He remembered that apartment. Small, cramped, and smelling faintly of birdseed. It was a stark contrast to the sleek, sterile environment of the Hero Commission, a place that reeked of control and expectations.

"You cleaned it up pretty good," Hawks said, his thumb tracing the back of Dabi's hand. "Made it feel like… home."

The word hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Home. Something Dabi had never thought he deserved. Something Hawks had offered him, freely and unconditionally.

"You know," Dabi said, his voice rough, "I still don't understand why you stayed. You could have been a top hero, lived the 'normal' life you were supposed to. You threw it all away for… this."

Hawks squeezed his hand. "This is better, Dabi. You are better. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He met Dabi's gaze then, his eyes filled with a love that still took Dabi by surprise. A love that had weathered betrayal, societal judgment, and the constant fear of being discovered.

"Besides," Hawks added with a wink, "who else would put up with your brooding?"

Dabi rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He knew Hawks saw through the cynicism, past the scars and the darkness, to the man he was underneath. The man he had been trying to bury for so long.

He pulled his hand free and reached into his jacket, retrieving a small, worn box. He pushed it across the table.

Hawks' eyebrows rose in surprise. "What's this?"

"Open it," Dabi mumbled, his gaze fixed on his lap.

Hawks carefully opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a single, perfectly formed red feather. Not just any feather. It was one of Hawks' feathers, carefully preserved and polished.

"I… I found it," Dabi said, his voice barely a whisper. "After that fight with the Nomu. You were injured… I kept it. To remember."

He didn't say what he wanted to remember. The fear. The relief. The overwhelming realization that he couldn't imagine a world without Hawks in it.

Hawks' eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He reached out and gently touched the feather, his fingers tracing its delicate barbs.

"Dabi…"

He looked up, meeting Hawks' gaze. He wasn't sure what Hawks saw there, but whatever it was, it was enough.

Hawks leaned across the table and kissed him. A soft, gentle kiss that spoke volumes. A kiss that promised another ten years, and then another. A kiss that said, "I see you. I love you. Always."

As they pulled apart, Hawks looked at him, his eyes shining brighter than the city lights below.

"Happy Anniversary, Dabi," he whispered, his voice full of love.

Dabi, for once, didn't have a sarcastic comeback. He simply reached out, took Hawks' hand again, and held on tight.

"Happy Anniversary, Keigo," he replied, using Hawks' given name for the first time in years. It felt right. It felt honest. It felt like home.

And in that moment, under the watchful gaze of the city, surrounded by the flickering candlelight and the weight of ten years, Dabi knew that he was finally, truly, free. Free to love, free to be loved, and free to spend the rest of his life with the man who had shown him what it meant to fly.