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I live for vigilante hawks ♪ヽ(´▽｀)/
#dabihawks Hawks, who's not the fastest hero who sits at number two, but the people's fastest vigilante, who crashes hero galas and every overly lascivious extravagances and press conferences that top heroes hold, to steal the food and all of their riches to distribute to the poor. His prime target, the number two flame hero.
And rising pro-hero Dabi, who watches him do it without fail, every time. Something between annoyance but impressed and confusingly fond, another purposely slowed step to not catch him.
(He could catch him if he tried, is what Dabi tells himself.)
But it is his father, so maybe vigilante Hawks is on to something. He's never approved of the waste that top heroes spend. Most definitely not his father's annual celebrations, so if he turns a blind eye, there's really no harm here, right?
And if Hawks lounges against a table at the annual bash, no eyes' on him except for Dabi's, as he bites into an apple, Dabi can't deny that he looks good doing what he does.
"Here to rob the poor old man again?" Dabi greets, for the hell of it. Not because he's not already sure of the other man's intentions. Innocent until proven guilty... except Hawks is always guilty.
Hawks snorts as he throws out a hand and props up a knee, leather pants stretching against the pose and Dabi's eyes stray too long between his legs. His hand dangles off the knee as he waves, "This what you guys call poor?"
Dabi laughs, sloshing the liquid around the glass of champagne in his hand. "Nah, but someone's gotta give him a little pity. He'll be bled dry someday if you keep coming for him."
"Will he?" Hawks muses lazily and takes another bite of the apple, the crunch of the fruit catching its juices against the corner of his mouth. Dabi licks his own lips. "And what of the people outside, already empty? I rather think I'm not bleeding him dry fast enough."
Dabi agrees, he does, but he's also a hero who's supposed to discourage criminal behavior. And yet the words don't come out that way. "So work faster," Dabi offers. "You're the fastest out there, aren't you? Or is that name just the press getting it all wrong?"
"Who knows?" Hawks' lips quirk into a grin. "But if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're encouraging stealing, Dabi."
"I'm a hero," Dabi repeats flatly, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. He doesn't move to arrest Hawks. He doesn't step in to stop him, not even with the chance that presents itself. He doesn't have an answer either, to generational poverty and the poor that don't have enough to eat. He wished he did, wishes Hawks, wasn't right in his own fucked up way.
Hawks jumps off the table, finished apple core tossed into a nearby bin. And then he's at Dabi's side lightning fast, blink and he'd miss it, voice sliding temptations like the gravest of a deadly sin against his ears. "Guess I'd better get to work, lest you get any other ideas. But if you're ever having a change of heart, you could... join me."
Dabi blinks and there's a whirlwind of feathers and a gust of wind, something more than the beat of his heart and the twitch of arousal that's distantly confused. Hawks is gone, a single feather left behind. His glass of champagne and the wallet against his pockets, missing.
The entirety of the banquet table too, stripped bare. All that remains, the polished wood but not a single bite.
The crowd in the background break out in gasps and uneven chatter between shock and disarray at the sudden lack of food, their missing wallets and expensive jewelry. As if they'd attended without noticing the annual reputation that these events often held now. Daylight robbery, from theirs truly.
Join Hawks.
That's crazy talking though, isn't it?