Flea

Chapter Sixty Nine

So um. Tried to line up the first spicy scene with this chapter number but didn't work. Instead, enjoy the darkest point of Dabi's character arch yippee. If you don't want to read about what's essentially an execution skip to the final part of the chapter.

Hawks' landing was muffled by clocks chiming two. His eyes flickered between shadows thrown by street lamps, independent from gloved hands reaching up to clasp twin flight feathers. Makeshift sabres weren't going to protect him against an inferno, and he had to exhale slowly to collect himself as darkness pressed in from all sides of the alley.

"Well, those must be the prettiest weapons I've ever seen. About as sharp as your witty repartee, I imagine," a shade leered, melding from the night. All Hawks could pick out in a black outline were eyes that somehow reflected pallid lighting as blue fire.

"Let's hope you're not subjected to either," Hawks replied smoothly, and with a flick of his wrist, one of the swords rested an inch from the silhouette's throat.

"The two Kuranos brought in for questioning never made it to their destination. I was the only hero who knew their route, it'll raise suspicion. You should've trusted me when I told you to leave them-"

The villain interrupted him to laugh at his mention of trust, and as the light fell on their features Hawks resisted the urge to take a step back. Dabi stood a head taller than the hero, which was the only normal description he could give the Frankenstein-esque creature holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and gasoline in the other. His chin and under-eyes were held together by medical staples, giving the impression small metallic shards were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Slashing the murderer's face in half was a seam that transformed his mouth into a continuous Cheshire grin with man above and leathery beast below.

"You, half the police force, and paparazzi. She's homeward bound, then?"

"Disguised and with several agents for protection. She was more worried about the state of train coffee than this whole affair put together," Hawks replied, to which the desiccated tips of Dabi's mouth slowly twisted into a true smile. His sardonic expression both mocked the hero and indicated that he knew insurmountably more about the story than Hawks. Impressive considering the villain was still being held at sword point.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Dabi tipped himself slightly to move around the blade, and a distinctive swaying of his movement betrayed he hadn't waited for Hawks before delving into the vodka bottle. They began wandering down the street between abandoned buildings, whose entrances seemed to gape in shock at their underhanded meeting.

"Don't worry, it burns off me quick enough. Like cooking a nice roast. Never tried with chicken before but there's a first time for everything," Dabi rasped, noticing Hawks eyeing the alcohol. The villain watched him with predatory amusement. He reminded Hawks of stray cats, which sparked a very particular dislike.

"Does that mean I'm a snack?" Hawks asked, shoving down dread and instead batting his eyelashes.

"Unless you keep on my good side, yeah. We need to feed the piranhas at our lair somehow."

"You just don't want to admit that I'd be your first. Anyway. Something tells me burning vodka off yourself won't be a problem tonight."

"Something's telling you nothing, Big Bird. I'm sick of day drinking so that I can get to sleep sober. At least tonight I know she's too messed up to nap. So..."

Dabi offered him the vodka.

"No, thanks. I don't drink."

The villain shrugged and raised the bottle back to his mismatched lips.