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The battles from that day have been particularly rough. Naked in his bed, Hawks turns to lie on his front instead, arms crossed under his pillow while he buries his face into it and groans. It feels like every part of him is covered in bruises. Slowly, he expands his wings and lets them rest, each hanging on one side outside of the blanket. This is the position that hurts the least and for a moment, he sighs in relief.
When someone opens the balcony door from the outside, Hawks doesn't move except to face in that direction. Only one visitor ever comes in this way, and while Hawks wouldn't mind the endorphins right now, he hopes it's not for sex that Dabi is visiting.
After crossing the living room, Dabi appears in the bedroom's doorway and leans against it, arms crossed. He removed his boots but not his coat. Hawks drags his gaze approvingly from the revealed ankles to the stylish punk trousers, and the tank top that leaves nothing to the imagination. Such glorious pecs. Hawks wants to bite them, though he also very much doesn't want to move. His teeth marks from a couple of nights ago will have to do. He hums appreciatively as loud as he can, though even that causes a wave of pain to travel up his back and torso and turns it into a sad little groan.
Dabi snorts.
"Can't say you make a very attractive sight right now, birdie."
A primary in the middle of his wing rises like a middle finger, lightly enough not to tug at any muscle on Hawks' back. Dabi lets his jacket slide down his arms and leaves it on the floor before approaching the bed. Languidly, he pulls Hawks' blanket down until it rests at the top of his ass, revealing the entire tapestry of blue, purple, black and green on his back and biceps. Dabi whistles, impressed.
It's just as bad on Hawks' thighs, but he doesn't mention that. If Dabi starts exploring lower even just with his gaze, the Pavlov reaction in Hawks' lower body will be inevitable and not being able to follow up on it may literally kill Hawks. Literally.
"They really got you good, huh," Dabi comments as he sits on the bed.
Hawks hums in agreement, shifting slightly so he's not lying as heavily on the bruise near his right kidney.
A moment later, fingertips brush his back along the edge of a bruise, light as a feather. Hawks holds his breath. The slightest pressure would be enough to make him howl. But Dabi's barely touching, a hint of a caress with no force at all put into it. Hawks can't see his expression, too afraid to move, but he can sense the care in the deliberate, thoughtful motions. It feels like Dabi is painting on his back, following the pattern already there.
Lips soon replace fingertips, and Hawks' breath hitches. Dabi is just as careful with his mouth, pressing kisses that Hawks can barely feel at the edge of every dark line on his back, slowly replacing memories of punches and kicks and walls with warmth, with tenderness that tears at Hawks' heart.
He never thought he would get to experience affection like this in his life. Perhaps, with words like 'I love you' never spoken aloud between them, most people wouldn't classify their relationship as anything particularly meaningful, but they understand each other. Dabi understands Hawks like no one else ever has, and they don't need words when they can read everything they need in each other's gestures and in everything that's pointedly left unsaid.
Hawks closes his eyes and lets Dabi map his pain until Hawks' mind is filled only with thoughts of him, and the rest of the world fades away, uninteresting and unimportant at least for a time. He shivers when Dabi's lips follow the map to his biceps and arms. Eventually, Hawks can no longer resist. He pushes himself up and to the side so he can palm Dabi's nape and pull him into a kiss, languid and deep and all encompassing. Dabi cups his face and gets even more into him, and Hawks moans appreciatively as he lies back down, soreness compartmentalised away, just a nuisance at the edge of his awareness.
It's not going to lead to anything more but it doesn't need to. Lying side-by-side, Hawks grips Dabi's shirt while Dabi holds his face. They kiss and kiss and kiss, eyes closed and unhurried, rediscovering each other over and over again, and then once more. Hawks' senses all fill with Dabi, inescapable, the first cage that Hawks willingly throws himself into time and time again. This cage's bars, they both build around them every time they get lost in each other to the point of forgetting about what they thought mattered most, and within, neither of them are ever alone.
Lost in a world of their own making, they kiss, tangled in each other. Like this, in this moment, the end of times may come and go and neither of them would even notice it.