Tags and trigger warnings: Emetophilia, vomiting, sickfic, hurt/comfort, fainting, Hawks acts like a bird, Hawks needs a hug, Hawks needs a break.

Summary: In which Hawks finds himself sick during one of his patrols.

Posted to Ao3: February 23rd

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Keigo Takami, also known as Hawks was many, many things but first and foremost he was incredibly dedicated to his job as a hero. Rising up the ranks to be one of the top 3 Pro heroes that the world had to offer.

And yet at the same time, this dedication was probably the thing that led to his current predicament in the first place.

Hawks gives a low, weak groan of discomfort as he shakily lands on the relatively low rooftop of a low nearby building, halfway stumbling and halfway staggering to a stop as he folds his wings back slightly.

He closes his eyes, running a trembling hand over his face, his other gripping the nearby railing to keep himself steady on his shaking legs as harsh, shuddering breaths slip from between his lips.

It's hot, stupidly disgustingly hot worse than even the most humid of days in Japan. It's the type of heat that seemed to drain a person's energy leaving them wanting to do nothing more except lay down and not move for the rest of the day. Hawks feels almost as if he's being melted into a puddle, even the air he drags in through his mouth feels unnaturally hot.

His throat is dry, each breath feeling as though it were sandpaper brushing across his throat.

Hawks's body, which was normally as light as the very feathers on his wings now felt as though it were as heavy as a boulder. A strange weight settling in his limbs, making him sluggish and uncoordinated.

The feverish hazy blanketing his mind makes even thinking a struggle, his thoughts slipping through his fingers in half-formed jumbles as exhaustion settles over his body wrapping around him like a blanket.

His head is throbbing viciously in time with his heartbeat, so much so that it feels as if someone is trying to squeeze his eyes out of his skull. The usual everyday noise of the city that he was so familiar with, the murmuring and chatter of people, the honking of horns, and the rumbling of engines as cars made their way down the road, all of it feels far, far too loud.

As if it's trying to claw out his eardrums as it echoes around his skull, the noise practically reverberating off its wall. He can feel each and every noise echoing in his feathers and making his wings ache which has him folding his wings in closer to his back, as if he could escape the noise, this horrible sensation.

But the most concerning part in Hawks's opinion, and the one that terrified him the most was nausea. The dizzying, intense, almost unbearable nausea.

Another low groan leaves his mouth as he swallowed thickly, almost convulsively in an attempt to clear the near river of drool building up in his mouth. It feels sticky and strangely heavy on his tongue which does his nausea no favors.

Hawks brings a hand to his stomach, internally cringing when he feels it churning almost violently beneath his fingers as if it were a pot of water threatening to boil over. His stomach feels strangely heavy as if his lunch from earlier were sitting in his stomach like a rock refusing to budge, his normally form-fitting uniform feels too tight.

Suffocating and smothering as it clung to his skin due to the fine layer of sweat coating it, his uniform feels as if it's digging into his stomach and he grimaces when his stomach makes a loud almost harsh gurgling noise, a deep ache darting across its surface. Hawks can tell just by touching it that his stomach is bloated, his fingers sinking ever so slightly into the now soft skin there.

A sense of dread weighs on Hawks, settling over his body as it looms over him ever-present.

He hated to admit it, or rather he all but refused to admit it. As if acknowledging it would make it tangible all too real in his eyes, and yet it's not really something he could ignore any longer, especially not at this point.

Hawks closes his eyes as he gives a shaky exhale although whether it's due to the fever or his own anxiety he has no clue. "Fuck," he whispered shaking his head slightly and he flinches, a grimace twisting at his face when a deep ache seems to punch him in the stomach.

It felt as if someone had his stomach in a vice grip and was trying to tie it into a knot. He clutches at his stomach, practically clawing at it as he squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the pain, his wings open slightly as he pulls them closer to himself, the gesture subconscious more than anything.

His stomach growls loudly, a sickly noise that has Hawks quickly swallowing. The heat isn't helping his nausea either, if anything it made him feel as though the contents of his stomach were curdling inside of him as waves of dizzying nausea washed over him relentlessly.

"Fuck," Hawks whispers his voice trembling slightly as he opens his eyes a bit, that fear is looming larger now. Hovering over him like a hungry violent beast ready to strike at a very next sign of weakness.

And yet he can't ignore it anymore, he feels completely utterly awful in every sense of the word. His body trembling as if threatening to collapse like a house of cards. He...he was sick. He didn't know what from or when he may have caught it but he could neither ignore nor deny yet anymore.

Hawks groans sniffling as he runs his hand over his face, trying to stuff down the sense of fear and dread writhing in his chest, sinking its icy fangs into him.

Hawks has never done well when it came to the topic of himself getting sick or even worse throwing up, he doesn't truly know when this feeling, when this fear began to take hold of him. Initially, it was something that had just made him feel a bit weary and disgusted as anyone did but as the years went on and he got older, this fear seemed to grow and evolve with him.

Maybe it was the time he spent under the thumb of the Hero Public Safety Commission over the years where it didn't matter if your body was on the verge of falling to pieces, a job was a job, and if the Commission said jump it wasn't a question of what but how high instead.

It was hard to determine for Hawks honestly but he did know what deeply terrified him about getting sick. And especially throwing up. The visceral loss of control, how once you started you were helpless and at mercy to your body until it decided when enough was enough.

Just the thought of it has Hawks shuddering, he opens his eyes briefly when another wave of intense nausea rolls over him so strong that it leaves him breathless and dazed for a moment. Drool trickles from his lips running down his chin as the world seems to swim before his eyes, the ground feeling as if it's shifting like a living thing beneath his feet.

It's a horribly, sickening sensation that has his stomach sloshing and Hawks quickly clamps a hand over his mouth as a nauseated, almost sloppy sounding hiccup leaves his mouth. Hawks swallows frantically, faintly tasting bile bubbling at the back of his throat for a moment. It's a sharp bitter yet also sour almost rancid taste, and the stinging burn it leaves behind in his throat has Hawks coughing for a moment or two.

As his nausea fades a bit, at least enough where he doesn't feel as if each breath he takes is going to make him gag. Hawks shakily lowers his hand from his mouth a small noise akin to a soft chirp of discomfort leaves his lips that he doesn't bother stopping.

He turns his head slightly to look over the guard railing of the building he's standing on, to look out at the city. It's still so, so horribly loud, each and every noise like nails on a chalkboard to his already overtaxed senses but his pain, the nausea, his discomfort, his fever none of that matters.

It never does, especially not when he has a job to do, first and foremost he was a hero and it wasn't like any potential villains or disasters were just gonna bide their time waiting until he felt well enough to deal with them. And so that's why, despite every part of his body screaming at him to lay the fuck down and rest that Hawks turns around to face the city, opens his wings, and leaves the rooftop to finish his patrol route.

~~~

Dabi scowled as he stared at his phone with narrow eyes, the bright white light of the screen incredibly bright, almost piercing in the alleyway he stood in hiding away from prying eyes.

The last thing he needed was for someone to recognize him and cause a commotion even with a disguise there was always that risk. And yet at the moment, Dabi finds himself worried less about that and more about the text that Hawks had sent him that had him coming out here in the first place. Three simple words seemingly sent in haste, 'I need you'.

This area is where Dabi and Hawks usually met up when Hawks was finished his usual patrol, although sometimes Dabi would just break into his house despite being given a key, claiming that just breaking in was both easier and funnier.

Hearing familiar footsteps coming down the alleyway Dabi briefly glances up noticing Hawks coming his way. "Finally you're here, what's up with this text you sent me?"

Hawks is quiet for a moment and then he gives a low groan that has Dabi quickly looking at him with a frown, and this time he looks at Hawks, really looks at him.

Hawks is dressed in his street clothes more than likely having just finished his patrol from the looks of things, he has his wings partially curled forward around himself almost as if he were using them as a shield. He's swaying in place and has a hand pressed to his head, clutching loosely at it. In the darkness of the alleyway, Dabi can't be sure but Hawks seemed to be a bit paler than usual.

Pushing away from the wall he was leaning against, Dabi shoves his phone in his pocket and begins walking over to him. "Hey, what's wrong with you? Headache," Dabi asked, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Hawks, his eyes roving over him.

He knew that Hawks got migraines at times, often triggered by exhaustion combined with too much stimuli. But the way he's acting, the swaying in place, the way he's curling his wings around himself as if trying to hide it seems like something else than a migraine. If anything he seems dazed at least to Dabi.

Hawks gives another low groan, although this time it borders on something similar to a pained whine or distressed chirp. "I...I'm..." Hawk begins his words slurring together heavily as if he was drunk and Dabi's frowned.

Hawks closes his eyes for a moment in an attempt to get his bearings even slightly but finds the task practically impossible. The ground feels as if it's swaying sickeningly beneath his feet, his stomach sloshing violently like an overfilled glass, each breath he draws in has his throat spasming slightly, threatening to make him gag.

Dabi is saying something to him, the sound of his voice distinct to Hawk even if his words are not, the world is pure noise around him, incredibly muffled as if coming to him from underwater. And yet despite that, his head is still throbbing violently, nearly turning his brain to mush.

He feels a hand on his arm, and slowly raises his head, his vision blurring as he meets Dabi's eyes, he can't be sure but Dabi looks almost...alarmed or concerned for some reason.

"H-Hey," Dabi exclaimed, steadying him when Hawks began to sway dangerously. The moment he does Dabi instantly becomes aware of a few things all at once, the heat rolling off of Hawks skin, the sweat soaking through his clothes, and the fact that he was trembling slightly in Dabi's grip. Now that he's this close Dabi can also hear a strange soft gurgling noise that seems to be coming from Hawks's stomach.

"Hey, what's up with you? Did you get hit with some weird quirk..." Dabi begins but trails off, his word dying in his throat when Hawks raises his head slightly and Dabi sees that his eyes are completely glassy and unfocused. Not truly seeing him.

In the very next moment, Hawks gives an audible exhale as his eyes roll back and his legs give beneath him. A series of curses leave Dabi's mouth as Hawks goes completely limp in his grasp, and would've fallen face-first to the ground if not for Dabi's grip on him.

Instead, he winds up pulled close to Dabi, Hawks's body leaning heavily against Dabi's chest as his ragged, breaths fan across Dabi's neck. Hawks's wings are outstretched, drooping behind him as his head lolls limply to the side.

"Shit," Dabi murmured under his breath, he glances towards the opening of the alleyway before quickly turning back to Hawks.

Sighing, Dabi gives a soft huff as he adjusted Hawks in his grip, he brings one hand to Hawks's forehead gently placing his palm there. A soft hiss escapes his mouth when he feels the heat there, nearly snatching his hand back as if he'd been burned. Hawks's fever is so high Dabi has absolutely no clue how he hadn't passed out sooner, especially considering he was definitely out doing his normal patrols like this, probably even fighting like this.

"Fucking idiot," Dabi huffed ignoring the way his heart seemed to be pounding in his chest right this moment, that feeling of unease and worry nagging at him. As if hearing Dabi's words Hawks gave a soft groan shifting slightly in his grip.

A sloppy, breathy hiccup leaves Hawks's mouth and Dabi felt Hawks's body jolt in his arm, tensing up slightly. Dabi hears something audible gurgling and surging up Hawks throat, that sounds similar to someone drowning almost. Hawks makes a strange noise akin to a closed mouth gasp, just catching the liquid as it fills the back of his throat.

Dabi hears him give a very audible swallow a shuddering slightly, giving a small chirping noise of discomfort.

Hawks groaned again but from the looks of things, it seemed as if he were actually waking up.

"What's...happening..." Hawks mumbled his words still heavily slurred. He shifted slightly again, tilting his head back a bit to look up at Dabi as he tried to push away, but Dabi held him firmly in place.

"How long?"

Hawks frowned confused at Dabi's words as well as his strangely curt tone, but with his headache seemingly trying to turn his brain to mush, and the fever fueled hazy in his mind not to mention the dizzying nausea still swirling heavily in the pit of his stomach makes thinking just as much of a chore as standing up at the moment.

"Huh," Hawks mumbled as he clutched at his head, his words slurring. He hates this, he hates this, he hates every part of this, this horrible sensation of his body threatening to come apart at the seams but most of all how helpless and at his mercy this made him feel.

He did everything he was supposed to, so why was this happening to him?

"How long have you been sick Tweety," Dabi huffed his eyes narrow.

Hawks shakes his head slightly but stops when that makes him feel like his brain is rattling around in his skull, his nausea swells for a moment and he swallows thickly cringing slightly at the sharp bitter taste of bile coating the back of his throat and tongue, the slimy texture doing little to help his nausea.

"I'm not...sick..." he mumbled in a slurred rush. Just because Hawks may have been slightly willing to admit to himself that he was sick didn't mean that he was willing to admit it to someone else.

Whenever he'd told someone he hadn't felt good in the past, it never ended well. There were no words of sympathy, no gentle touches, just the repeated saying of 'get up and try again now' or asking 'can you continue' when his body was clearly seconds away from giving up on him.

"Bullshit, you look like either about to puke or faint," Dabi grumbled, he's not angry at Hawks not for getting sick at least but he is irritated and annoyed that Hawks has clearly been pushing himself while he's like this.

Hawks said nothing, his hand shakily leaving his head to cover his mouth as he gave another soft whimper of discomfort. His stomach is still killing him, that feeling of heaviness and tightness not leaving him even now that he's out of his uniform.

Dabi sighed as he grabbed Hawks's free hand. "Come on, you can walk right," he sighed after a moment.

Hawks has his eyes squeezed shut, his face eerily pale as he swallows quickly, almost convulsively. A low gurgle comes from his stomach that has Dabi giving him a weary look because it sounds all too much like a pot of boiling water. "Flying is quicker," Hawks murmured as he spoke through his fingers.

Dabi gives a snort rolling his eyes. "Yeah no, we'll both end up puking or smacking into a window or somethin."

Hawks surprisingly says nothing in response, too afraid that if he opens his mouth the already shaky control he has on his stomach will shatter to pieces. So he can only take deep shaky breaths in through his nose and allow Dabi to guide him by hand as they both begin the walk home.

~~~~

The walk to Hawks's apartment is a slow process, and by the time they finally reach the building Hawks wants nothing more than to just collapse in bed and pass out for a good long while.

His stomach is killing him, as if someone had it in a vice grip and were squeezing it. A deep ache settling alongside the nausea as it churned violently, the dizzying nausea washing over him in waves leaving him lightheaded. He could practically feel the contents of his stomach brushing against its walls and to say it was an unpleasant feeling was an understatement.

It was so hot that he felt as if he were melting into a puddle, his brain literally numb by this point from the continuous headache stabbing at his skull in combination with the loud stimuli from the world around him.

Dabi can't help but glance back at Hawk as they walked noticing the way Hawks brings a trembling hand to his lips occasionally, his eyes fluttering slightly as his body jolts a bit with what seems like a soft repressed gag if the tiny, choke gasping noise he makes is anything to go by. Dabi has a good feeling that Hawks would feel a bit better if he just lets himself throw up, especially considering the loud almost snarling gurgling noises he can hear his stomach making are anything to go by but Dabi also knows that Hawks wouldn't do so.

But Dabi has a good idea of how to make him do so, which should provide him with some temporary relief.

"We're here birdy," Dabi told him as they arrived at the apartment building.

Hawks raised his head and looked up, his eyes still glassy and dazed but there's more awareness in them despite that, especially more than there had been in the alleyway so he didn't seem as if he were going to faint on the spot. Although Dabi is a bit worried by the fact that Hawks's breathing is even more ragged, he's practically panting, a red blush coating his cheeks more than likely a combination of the fever and exertion.

"Tired," Dabi asked with a scowl.

Hawks merely nodded, which had a few alarm bells ringing in Dabi's head. If Hawks of all people was saying little to nothing then it pointed to one of two things he was either pissed beyond all reason or he was sick, and that combined with the fact that he's actually admitting his exhaustion to Dabi instead of pushing through like usual meant that he was reaching his limit in every sense of the word.

"We'll take the elevator instead of the stairs then." Is all Dabi says as he leads Hawks inside the building.

Hawks relaxes ever so slightly once they're in the elevator, the exhaustion weighing on him heavily as his wings droop slightly behind him. He just needed to take a few more steps once the elevator opened on the top floor and he would be free, he'd be in the comfort of his own home to collapse, cry, whatever he wanted.

Maybe it's because of the haze in his mind and the fact that he's trying to put all his focus into making sure his stomach contents stay where they're supposed to that he doesn't even register the effect the elevator may have on him until it's far, far too late.

Seconds after the elevator door closes and begins moving a strange sensation washes over Hawks similar to the feeling he got whenever he used his wings to take off from the ground, except it's a lot more intense. The sensation of falling freely through the air hits him as the world swirls in a myriad of colors before his eyes, his stomach seems to plummet down to his feet as an intense wave of nausea hits him like a truck.

Before he can stop himself Hawks gags harshly and he quickly covers his mouth with his hand almost out of reflex as a trickle of bile leaves his mouth, burning his throat and leaving him coughing and spluttering as he falls to the floor of the elevator on his knees, his wings flapping less in an effort to fly and more ruffling themselves in discomfort.

He feels Dabi's hand gently running along his back, between his wings as he pants, nausea boiling and twisting in his stomach as he struggles to get his bearings even slightly. To get his twisting stomach under control as it heaves and spasms from his attempts to force back the wave of vomit threatening to surge up his throat.

"Let it up dumbass, you'll probably feel better anyhow," Dabi told him, yet despite his harsh words there's no venom or malice in his voice if anything he sounds worried.

Hawks says nothing frozen in place with his lips clamped shut as his stomach heaves violently, the contents of it filling his mouth almost instantly, coating his mouth in a sour, rancid, taste like spoiled milk that overpowers nearly everything.

Hawks is practically curled into a ball, his eyes squeezed shut. There are tears gathered on his lashes and rolling down his sweat-streaked face. He was pale as a sheet with an almost slight green tinge to his skin and his cheeks were bulging out as he took shallow, shaky breaths in through his nose in some last-ditch effort to keep himself from being sick.

He needs to swallow it, Hawks knows he has no other option, he can't let this happen. This never ends well for him, a situation like this, he just has to push through it to get his body to listen to him, he just needed to hold it back at least until he got to his home, his safe place.

And yet Hawks severely underestimates both how much his stomach has had enough of his shit and how the elevator will affect his already horrific nausea. As the elevator continues moving upwards, the motion sends Hawks's stomach sloshing violently like a water balloon.

Hawks gives a low desperate almost pleading whine in his throat, his entire body trembling from the effort of trying to stop himself from being sick. His stomach makes a loud, harsh growling noise as it heaves again forcing more of its contents into his mouth, a tiny bit of vomit squirting past his tightly sealed lips and dribbling down his hand through the cracks in his fingers.

It feels hot, almost searing on his hand and disgustingly sticky, as well as lumpy like touching wet food in the sink and he despises it. His stomach heaves again forcing even more vomit into his mouth, and this is the straw that breaks the camel's back and sends the large, thick, lumpy wave of vomit spraying through Hawks's tightly sealed lips like a firehouse.

The surge of lumpy pale and green vomit sprays through the cracks in his fingers, coating his hand in the disgustingly thick smoothie-like slurry as it splatters the carpeted floor of the elevator heavily as if someone had spilled a bucket of liquid on the floor.

Hawks manages a broken strained whimper right before a loud gurgling burp slither past his lips, rumbling in his throat as it echoes in the small confines of the elevator, the noise turns wet at the end, sloppy almost as another large wave of thick, pale lumpy vomit sprays through his fingers, forming a glistening sickening puddle on the ground in front of him.

The mess feels absolutely disgustingly warm, almost searing against his skin, it's slimy as well the sensation of the chunks of his own barely digested meal slipping between his fingers makes him shudder.

Dabi cringes slightly briefly glancing away as he continues patting Hawks on the back, Dabi would be lying if he said the smell wasn't awful, but he does his best to attempt to ignore it. After all, speaking from experience Dabi knew that once Hawks had gotten everything up he'd more than likely feel a lot more aware, and the dizziness he was experiencing wouldn't be as oppressive.

Hawks shakily lowers his hand from his mouth, his eyes wide and glassy with tears as threads of bile and drool drip lazily from his lips into the mess before him. He lurches forward suddenly with a gurgling garbled retch, his wings lifting slightly flexing behind him in the cramped space of the elevator as his body tenses up. This harsh retch has one final enormous surge of vomit gurgling out of him, sounding a lot like a pot of water furiously boiling, the mess pours from his lips steadily for a moment or two.

As it eventually tapers off Hawks is left coughing and spluttering, drool dripping from his lips like a faucet. A small ding echoes out in the elevator as it stops moving and eventually the door opens.

Hawks swallows thickly, panting as he shakily raises his head to look at the door, tears in his eyes. Then he shakily looks down at the mess in front of him and cringes a wave of guilt washing over him. He couldn't do it, why couldn't he just force his body to cooperate for a few more fucking seconds, just push through his limits like he usually did.

"I-I need to clean this up," Hawks whispered, his voice raspy and completely shot from his vomiting episode.

Dabi gives a sigh of exasperation. "You need to fucking lay down is what you need. Besides, don't worry about it, they'll probably just think it was some drunk or something." When Dabi was hoping that throwing up would make Hawks more aware this wasn't what he really had in mind but truthfully it's what he expected.

"No, I need to do it. I have to, they-"

Another loud sigh from Dabi is what cuts Hawks off because he can't help but think Dabi sounds frustrated and he figures, at least in his fever-addled mind, that Dabi is upset with him for some reason.

Reaching out Dabi stops the door of the elevator from closing before turning back to Hawks and grabbing him under one arm to help to his feet. "How bout we do this, I'll clean this up and you go lay down and don't move unless it's an emergency sound good?"

To which Hawks simply nods the look of shame and guilt still plastered on his face, the next time Dabi speaks though instead of frustration and what he'd assumed to be anger, Hawks hears something akin to reassurance and concern.

"If you'd just let me burn the commission to the ground you wouldn't have to deal with this, but it's fine I guess. At least you'll finally get to rest now," Dabi said as he helped Hawks to his feet and out of the elevator.

Despite how horrific Hawks, feels at Dabi's words he can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips. While Hawks wouldn't mind just putting this day behind him doing his best to ignore it and forget, he'd be lying if he said he'd soon forget Dabi's words.