Chapter Text
“What,” Enji says, “is that.”
Hawks stirs the noodle pot with cooking chopsticks, and closes the lid so the steam won’t escape.
“Tonkotsu! Made humbly by your sweet stay at home wife.”
Enji’s eyebrows disappear into his forehead, and he sets down the manila file he was holding.
“Really?”
“Nah, Fuyumi dropped it off – but I sounded pretty convincing, right?”
“No,” Enji steps next to him and lifts the lid, peeking inside. “I’m impressed that you know how to do laundry.”
“First of all, rude. Second, just because I don’t do something doesn’t mean I don’t know how to.” The commission taught him how to do lots of stuff; Hawks just cut out the shit he didn’t have time for. He turns, following Enji on his mission for a bowl. “Third, you’re not even going to kiss me hello? After I slaved away on reheating your dinner?”
“No,” Enji says, but it sounds lighthearted.
Hawks sighs dejectedly. “I knew you didn’t really like me. Heart been broke so many times – I’m going to leave the country and shave my head and change my name –”
A hand grabs him by the shirt collar and yanks him forwards. Hawks goes hrkk!, but freezes still as Enji leans down to kiss the top of his head.
“So dramatic,” Enji delivers flatly. He turns to serve noodles into his bowl, and Hawks rubs the top of his head, his face turning pink. Well, that caught him off guard.
Hawks is well practiced at hiding his insecurities behind humor. Somehow, he’s still surprised when Enji meets his jester walls with a deadpan battering ram. It’s upsetting how such a small sign of affection can nuke half of the doubts he was bathing in all day.
Enji goes to sit at the bar, texting in one hand (likely a thank you to Fuyumi) with chopsticks balanced on the top of his bowl. Hawks blinks himself back to the present, and goes to serve himself his own plate.
“Friday,” Enji says, out of nowhere. “What are you doing?”
Hawks tips his head curiously (left, right, he knows it makes him look like a bird but it’s a hard habit to drop).
“Uhhh? Nothing? I mean, I’ll have to check my schedule. I’m a busy guy between all the sick parties I’m hopping.”
Undisturbed, Enji just continues to eat, setting down his phone.
“Don’t be busy.”
Hawks grins as he sticks out his tongue and bites it.
“For you? Never.”
~
Once that first quill popped, the rest began to open quickly. Soon his naked KFC chicken-wings become a thing of the past. They’re small right now, but his wings are now covered in velvet black feathers.
Hawks goes to therapy, does his exercises and leaves the pain pills behind. Hawks will likely commit to a life of low-dose meds to fight the spasms in his back, but all things considered, it’s a small price to pay.
He spends time twisting around in the mirror, trying to catch the feathers in the light – but they’re nearly matte, only picking up a bluish hue if the bathroom light catches it right. His scars peek out between feathers, but Hawks is growing used to those.
His wings are still small enough to squish against his back and hide beneath a jacket, so that’s exactly what he does when Enji takes him out to dinner. The fit is a little uncomfortable, but it could be a hell of a lot worse.
Hawks takes his time getting dressed; he doesn’t want to look good, he wants to look hot. Rings, earrings, designer leather on denim; Enji doesn’t look impressed at the flashiness, but the cameras pick it up.
“I thought you didn’t want to be spotted,” Enji says, shooing off the paparazzi outside the restaurant.
“I knew you’d never let them past the door – hey! Good to see you too! – I have to make a good first impression again.”
“Right,” Enji deadpans.
The table is what Hawks expected from Endeavor; far away from the other patrons, shoved up by one of the windows on a higher floor. It reminds Hawks of the time that Nomu smacked them around like the old pigskin.
“Hawks is a public persona,” Hawks explains, “As much as it’s me, too. Simple misdirection. Keep them focused on the autographs and the cameras while my feathers were out fighting the real battles.”
“I know,” Enji says, pouring him a drink. “Effective, but not my style.”
Hawks hasn’t been able to drink with all the heavy meds he’s been on, and he’s excited for the first sip. He raises his eyebrows and sniffles through the burn in his sinuses.
“I know. It’s why I like you – phew, this is strong.”
Enji looks like he’s laughing at him through his eyes.
“It’s just been a while. You’ll adjust.”
Hawks openly cringes at the bitterness and sets the glass back against the table with a clink. Enji snorts.
He isn’t dressed too differently from how he leaves for the agency; but instead of a white collar shirt, it’s a rich satin black, and the watch on his wrist is nice and Enji just smells expensive. Also, clothes fit Enji’s body like a glove three sizes too small, and it’s so hot it’ll make a nun horny.
Neither of them are very good at being uh, romantic, but the effort is there. Hawks is too much of a blabber mouth and Enji is all business – except they have these weird moments, where they meet in the middle. Where their rough edges rub together and sand out into a spark of compatibility. Enji is capable of opening up if Hawks presses his buttons hard enough (and buttons are just oh-so fun). Hawks wants to make him laugh for real, just once before they leave.
Food comes and goes, and Hawks picks off of the sushi boat as he talks with his chopsticks.
“Okay, so I’m going to come at you with the hard questions,” Hawks chews. “First date rules, take it or leave it.”
Enji sips, “Give me your best.”
“Spicy or non-spicy.”
“Spicy.”
“Beach or hike.”
“Hike.”
“Favorite music genre?”
“I grew up on classical, if that counts.”
“Aww, that’s cute. Traveled outside the country?”
“Hmph. Yes, America.”
“Do you like movies?”
“Not particularly.”
“How long have you been gay?”
Enji pauses. He blinks, and then waits to finish his bite of sushi before saying,
“Very clever. You almost got me.”
Hawks smirks, and in poor manners, he leans his elbow on the table and sets his jaw in his hand.
“Just curious. I’m very honored if I’m an outlier, by the way.”
Enji delivers a flat look, “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I never had an attraction to the opposite sex.”
Hawks’ eyebrows slam up to his hairline. That is interesting.
“So, your marriage really was just for convenience.”
Enji grimaces, and looks down at the half-full sake cup sitting between them. He rubs at the short red hairs at the base of his neck; a rare sign of discomfort.
“I’m not proud of the decisions I’ve made. But I wouldn’t have my family without some of them. It’s a catch.”
“Look, I get it.” He really does. “So you never liked women. That’s scandalous.”
“Yes, at a young age it was more obvious. But that was beaten out of me by my father.”
Hawks cringes. Yikes.
“...Sorry. I didn’t mean to poke a sore spot.”
Enji shrugs, “It’s just history.”
Hawks opens his mouth. He suddenly remembers where he is, and closes it. He looks once around the restaurant. Nobody is even close enough to catch the tail end of their conversation, but Hawks chews down his words.
Later. He’ll tell him later.
“Well,” Hawks stirs his straw in the ice, clinking it against the glass. “There’s a first for everything. No big deal.”
Enji huffs, “Don’t patronize me. I’m not a teenager.”
“Hey – not! This is a first for me, too.”
Now Enji looks surprised.
“I find that extremely unlikely.”
Hawks laughs, pressing his hand to his chest. “I’m scandalized. How big of a slut do you think I am? I mean, you’re right, but --”
“Hawks.”
“I’ve never been with someone I had feelings for,” Hawks admits, and the fiery look on Enji’s face starts to cool. “It was always just...you. You know.”
Enji doesn’t doubt him. He just wipes the condensation off his glass with his thumb, and says, “Don’t regret this.”
He couldn’t, even if it ended in fire.
“I just want you to look at me like a man,” Hawks says. “Not a kid, or a hero. Every decision I’ve ever made has been ultimately mine. I take full responsibility for that.”
The mood feels more serious and tense. The candle flame grows and then shrinks with Enji’s exhale.
“To look at you like a man...Do you think we’d be here, if I didn’t already?”
Hawks’ wings squeeze and rustle under his jacket. He grins, and brings his cup to rest at his lower lip.
“Nope.”
~
It’s torture to return to the same house after a bomb ass dinner, and not be able to have his back blown out (in the good way).
“Come on, I already told you I’m feeling better. Just pretend it’s okay so you can fuck me stupid.”
Enji growls into his mouth, gripping his chin again, keeping him at bay like a wild animal.
“Not until your wings touch the floor.”
Hawks threw his pride out the door months ago. He bounces on his heels and whines.
“Don’t you want to watch me fuck myself on your fingers? I’ll get on my knees for you, just for a little bit –” Hawks bites off in a pained gasp as his back hits the door. Okay, ouch, that hurt.
Enji leans down into his personal space and kisses his mouth once. Mmmm big man smell nice.
“No. Go take a shower – and sleep in your own bed.”
“I’ll only agree to one of those.”
~
Hawks can’t remember the last time he had a real nightmare. Dude, when he’s conked out on six-feet four-inches of solid muscle mass, he’d like to see a nightmare try.
Something about Enji’s presence just knocks him out like a light.
While his back doesn’t hurt as badly as it used to, Enji still pets up and down his spine. It relaxes him just as much as it turns him on, and Enji has probably figured that out by now – but it almost…feels like Enji likes to do it. Hawks resists teasing him about it because he doesn’t want him to stop.
Hawks’ recent public appearance blows up like he expected it to (but at least he looks good!) He gets a barrage of texts from his sidekicks asking when he’s going to come back to work – and it makes him feel needed. They want him, and they don’t even know about his wings, or the shift in agency management. Hawks is starting to get antsy.
Enji says the court case is nearing the end, and it looks like the judge is going to lean in his favor. Hawks doesn’t want to get his hopes up – but the idea of not being contracted to anyone, not being forced to drop everything at a faceless beck and call; to leave the double agent life behind – it’s a fresh start.
Hawks keeps the development of his wings under wraps. Until he knows if he can really, actually fly, he doesn’t want anyone else to know. Hawks likes to pretend it doesn’t worry him.
~
His wings are getting bigger. They reach his lower back now, not yet fully grown, but are already extremely different from his old ones. Besides the obvious, they’re also freaking heavy. His red wings were like air. These feel like a weighted blanket dragging behind him, and Hawks has to learn how to counterbalance it in his day to day life.
It’s late, when Hawks realizes how big they’ve gotten. Hawks studies them, shirtless in Enji’s bedroom, standing in front of the full-length mirror while Enji reads on the bed.
He turns sideways, stretches them out and watches as the feathers rustle. The color is still a shock. They absorb all light, like a black hole.
Enji is watching him over the top of his book. Hawks pets down one of the wings, and pulls at the longest feather he’s grown yet. It almost reaches his butt.
“They’re my sins,” Hawks mutters. “Like God pinned them to my back.”
Enji sets down the book. Hawks tries to stretch out his secondaries, but they’re just so thick and slow to move, it’s frustrating.
Enji appears behind him in the mirror, and presses his palm flat between his wings. It fits there; it’s exclusively his spot, now. Shaped like his hand, Enji Was Here in red ink.
“They’re striking,” Enji tells him. “You would be a menace at night.”
Hawks bites the corner of his lip, and meets Enji’s eye in the mirror. He’d never really considered that.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to fly.”
“You’ll fly,” Enji confirms. He pets the base of his wings with his knuckles, before squeezing his shoulder and passing Hawks on his way to the bathroom. The light flicks on and the sink starts to run. Hawks exhales, and drops his wings against his back.He wipes his eyes, then says,
“Want to share a shower?”
“No.”
Hey man, it was worth a try.
~
“Well,” Hawks grins. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this.”
He snips the scissors like little crab claws, and Enji doesn’t react. He lights his palm in a short flame as he reaches for his coffee cup, warming the liquid that’s gone cold.
“You should custom order your shirts from a tailor.”
“Too much money,” Hawks chirps. He flattens out another t-shirt on the kitchen counter, and cuts a slice down the back. “And most brands don’t do custom. My mom taught me how to cut my shirts as a kid.”
Enji looks to him curiously.
“Your mother did?”
Hawks measures the other slice with his fingers, before he cuts the first hole.
“Yeah. Mom had sparrow wings. Not very big, but she could get a few feet off the ground.” Hawks hesitates, and then says nonchalantly, “Dad had a telekinetic connection to his hair.”
Enji is smart enough not to pry. He just motions with his free hand.
“So hence.”
“Exactly.” Hawks flexes the foreign black feathers in his primaries. “But I think my days of feather-carrying groceries for cute grandmas are a thing of the past.”
“Then you’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way.” Enji turns back to answering emails, and says, “Don’t scratch the counter.”
Hawks lifts up the scissors like a claw and goes snip snip snip.
~
No, he’s not exaggerating. The wings really are heavy.
Hawks has to work extra hard to run, to do pullups, to do all the things he used to. They keep growing bigger and bigger, and it’s inevitable that he won’t be able to hide them anymore.
Merengue gives him one last check up, and says everything looks good.
“Flying is your choice,” she says. “Birds leave the nest when they’re ready.”
It’s the truth, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.
Hawks finally breaks down, and calls Rumi to tell her everything. Like, everything everything.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you’ve been busy.”
“I know,” Hawks pulls his earphone mic closer to his mouth. “I like the arm, by the way. Very cool, very robopunk.”
“Yeah, but not as cool as if it had grown back pink! Those wings are amazing, my guy. Why aren’t you back to work yet?”
Enji is getting ready to go back into the hero force. He has an agenda of interviews to attend, and then he plans on taking a regular patrol shift again. Hawks is equally excited as much as he dreads it.
“It’s going to be different,” Hawks admits. “I won’t be who I was.”
“So? Is that such a bad thing? Why not debut a better, cooler Hawks?”
“People still think I’m a traitor.”
“You’ve been hanging around Endeavor too much! You sound like a big old grump! You’re a hero, dammit, act like one!”
Hawks laughs at her tone.
“How come I’m not allowed to have insecurities?”
“Because they’re bullshit! Hawks baby, you’re amazing. Jump off that roof and come back to us.”
Hawks sticks out his tongue, and Enji sees her pixely image pull down her eye and do the same.
~
Showering takes longer with his wings again. They’re sensitive, and Hawks has to keep the water lukewarm.
When he goes to dress, the red (freshly tailored) robe hangs there, mocking him.
Hawks drop-kicks caution right into the wind, and pulls it on.
When Hawks enters the master bedroom, Enji is sitting at the end of the bed, toweling off his hair. They shared a workout in the dojo today, but not a shower, because Enji is apparently very serious about his no-sex promises.
Hawks shuts the door with a soft click, and Enji glances up at him. The stony look on his face cracks straight down the middle, and Hawks smiles, pulling the robe back up to his shoulder. He tied it loose on purpose, because he’s a hoe.
“Hi.”
“You’re a demon,” Enji tells him. Hawks laughs, and approaches him.
“Maybe. How are your hands?”
“Fine.”
“Hmm, let me see.”
Enji is reluctant at first, but when Hawks stands between his knees and holds out an impatient palm, Enji gives in.
Hawks studies his right hand, then his left. The damage is worse on his right. Hawks can see that he’s slower to move it.
Gently, Hawks presses into the meat of his hand with his thumbs. Enji jerks, and Hawks looks up at him with an eyebrow raised.
“I thought they were numb.”
“They are,” Enji grunts. “Sometimes.”
Hawks clicks his tongue, and massages into his fingers with both hands. Enji tries to pull away, and Hawks frowns at him.
“Seriously? How many times did you do this for me?”
“They don’t hurt that bad.”
“But they do hurt.”
Enji shuts up, obviously caught red handed. Hawks massages each finger, tracing scars and callouses. He accidentally pops one of his knuckles, so Hawks yanks on his other ones too.
“Feels good?”
“Hm.”
Hawks massages his other hand. He pretends not to notice when Enji leans forward and presses his nose into the crook of his neck.
“You’re really testing my patience,” Enji mutters. The hoarseness of his tone scratches down Hawks’ spine.
“Isn’t that what you like about me?”
Enji tenderly kisses his shoulder. It gives him butterflies.
“I think you should try to fly tomorrow.”
Hawks inhales. He droops his wings, and he realizes that they now pool on the floor.
“Already?”
“Yes. Are you nervous?”
“Pfft, me? No.” Yes.
Enji kisses under his ear. He finds Hawks’ hips and sets his free hand there, and Hawks gives up on the hand massage. He threads their fingers together. Enji makes his hand look small, but not fragile.
“Don’t you miss it?”
“More than anything,” Hawks blurts. He tips his head to the side so Enji can mouth across his jaw. They’re both a little stubbly right now, and the scratch gives him more goosebumps. “You have no idea what it’s like. To have all the freedom in the world and then be forced to just…walk everywhere.”
“See.” Enji curls his hair behind his ear, and leans back. His stone face betrays the gentleness in his tone. “You’ll fly.”
Hawks kisses his bottom lip; Enji kisses back.
A hand slides up his spine where it belongs, over all the jagged scar tissue and black pin-feathers, and Hawks sighs into his mouth.
“Let me please just – ” Hawks drops out of his grip, and onto his knee. He looks up through his lashes and begs, “Please.”
Enji’s throat bobs as he swallows, and he pushes Hawks’ bangs out of his eyes.
“Damn you.”
Hawks doesn’t pull out all the tricks, because he feels like Enji would stop him. He just tugs down the elastic of his sleep pants, nuzzles into his thigh and licks circles around the head of his cock until he’s fully hard. He smells so good, so strong here.
The robe slides off his shoulders and Hawks doesn’t give a fuck, because Enji is big and hard and pink and Hawks just licks and sucks until thick fingers are tenderly tracing the back of his skull.
Hawks encourages the fingers in his hair by moaning softly. He reaches between his own legs because he’s too hard to ignore it anymore. Enji is relatively quiet; just heavy breaths and an occasional curse that shoots through Hawks like a bullet. It’s okay. Hawks will spend the rest of his life chipping away at that cold exterior, knocking him down until the day he’s screaming his name.
Enji takes a while, but Hawks has all the time in the world. He kisses the head and licks flat and swallows down as far as he can just once to see what reaction he’ll get.
“Hawks,” Enji warns, low and needy.
“You taste so fucking good,” Hawks rasps, pumping him in one hand (his fingers barely meet, by god). “I want to swallow – please. Please, Enji. I’m ready, I’ll come with you.”
Enji groans inaudibly, and Hawks sucks and swallows until the hand in his hair is loose again. He loves how his muscles flex, loves how he gets harder before he finishes. Hawks is loud about how good he feels, and he keeps Enji in his mouth as he throbs because it’s exactly the push he needed, spilling between his own fingers, sticky now on his thighs.
“You’re dangerous,” Enji scolds fondly.
Hawks licks up the top to the stubble on Enji’s navel, and then shows off a clean tongue.
“I know.”
~
“Ahhh, I missed this place,” Hawks sighs, sitting up on Enji’s desk. “Hello fake houseplant. Hello crappy dell computer. Hello windowsill I broke while trying to sneak in –”
“Hawks.” Enji crosses his arms. He isn’t in hero uniform, but he keeps the flames on his face while in his agency building, to keep up appearances. “You’re stalling.”
“Me?” Hawks points to his chest. “I’d never. Are those new shoes?”
“The roof is empty,” Enji says, checking his watch. “A minimal amount of people should be out at this hour. Come on.”
Hawks jumps down from Enji’s desk, and accidentally knocks over an empty mug with his wing. He jumps to catch it and right the mug on the desk edge.
“Haha, oops.”
Enji’s stare feels scrutinizing, until he closes the door behind him and holds out a hand.
“You’re going to be fine.”
Hawks takes his fingers and squeezes.
“Of course I am – I’m a shining beacon of confidence. I can totally do this.”
The roof edge meets the tip of his sneakers, and Hawks says, “I can’t do this.”
Wind blows strong up here, and Enji isn’t able to keep the fire on his face. It doesn’t matter, because the agency roof is flat and empty and big enough to be used as a helicopter pad.
“Hawks, you’ve been flying your whole life. You can do it.”
Hawks stares over the edge. He can see an alley, and the road over where cars are stopped at a red light. It’s been so long since he’s stepped off a roof; anxiety and adrenaline hit him like a brick wall. The humor in his tone bleeds out into desperation.
“Enji, I can’t,” Hawks begs. “These wings are too heavy – I’m not strong enough. I’ll keep building muscle and maybe in a month I’ll step off the bridge or something.” Then at least he’ll land in water.
Enji frowns at him. He crosses his arms, and Hawks feels like a scrutinized intern again.
“Open them.”
“What?”
“Your wings. Don’t look at me like that, just do it.”
Hawks exhales. He takes a safe step away from the edge. He drops the jacket he was using to smuggle himself into the agency building, and then spreads his wings as wide as they’ll go. The strength of the wind forces him to take another step back to counterbalance.
They’re – big. It takes effort to flex each feather.
“You won’t improve your muscles without using them the way they’re meant to,” Enji says. “I wouldn’t bring you up here if I didn’t think you could do it.”
A part of Hawks knows that’s true. The other part is terrified of becoming a squashy bird pancake.
The wind blows again, and Hawks folds his wings in close. He looks over the edge and sucks in a breath.
“Okay okay. Just, if I die, please visit my grave and tell me who wins Chopped this season.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re not going to die. Just go.”
Hawks breathes in and out. Just like a bike. I mean, Hawks has never ridden a bike, but he’s pretty sure it’s the same thing. (Don’t judge, what bird has a need to ride a bike? Well, maybe a penguin, or like. A flamingo. No wait, flamingos can fly –)
Hawks jumps off the roof.
The ground comes at him fast. Hawks flaps and flaps but he’s too slow. These dark wings are too clunky and hard to move.
Come on!
The wind gets under one wing but not the other. Hawks twists and flails, and ends up spinning himself the wrong way. Panicked, Hawks flaps harder, but the ground gets closer and he’s disoriented and the wind throws his hair into his eyes.
Hawks can see the roof edge getting farther away. Hawks starts to hyperventilate. This is it; closer, and closer – windows rush by in a blur, and Hawks can start to see the cracks in the pavement.
Splat!!
Haha, just kidding.
Hawks catches an updrift and sails up the building, soaring past the roof and into the sky. He cackles loudly, shouting woohoo!!! and flips around to fly up and into the clouds.
The air is fresh and clean and cold, and Hawks is so elated, the emotions just bubble out of him.
It’s been so long. Keeping flight is challenging and requires more focus than before, but he switches directions and swoops back around, rolling upside down and disturbing the clouds with his wingtips.
He’s going to be sore from this. But Enji was right; it is a fresh start.
These feathers are unbelievably strong. He has power in each flap – and it’s different, but exciting.
Hawks closes his wings and divebombs towards the roof, swooping down and back up again. He calls; I did it! Did you see?! And to his own surprise, Enji is smiling.
“I told you!” Enji shouts.
Hawks’ heart squeezes. He kicks outward, flaps twice and barrels right into Enji’s chest at full force, swinging his arms around his neck and nearly knocking him off his feet. Well.
Enji grunts as he barely catches him, stepping back twice before he falls on his ass. Hawks’ feathers are everywhere, puffed up and curled around them. Hawks laughs hysterically.
“Thank you.”
Enji sighs, yet he squeezes Hawks tight, and lets him snuffle into his neck.
“You did all the work.”
“Not by a fucking long shot.” Hawks pulls back, squishes Enji’s face in his hands and gets butterflies from the big, sparkly eyes Enji is giving him. Hawks bites his lip and smiles. He pecks Enji on the mouth. “Some people definitely saw.”
Enji pets Hawks’ windblown bangs out of his face, and taps his hip for him to stand.
“Then you better get your publicist on top of that.”
~
“Hero Hawks Takes to the Skies Again?”
“Hawks Returns from Retirement!”
“A New Look for Hawks? Fake or Real?”
#NightWings #HawksFlying20XX #WelcomeBackHawks
~
Hawks can barely wait to jump him until they get home. They crawl in Enji’s car, and Hawks slams the privacy window shut immediately. Enji doesn’t even scold him; his hands are already on Hawks’ skinny waist, tugging him halfway across his lap and spitting out a stray feather.
Hawks laughs and his wings thump against the window and the headrest and the car roof and there’s no room to breathe, just Enji up in his face, kissing him stupid with steam in his mouth, and it burns but it’s good, it’s amazing.
Hawks braces a hand against the tinted window and the steam smears the glass, and Enji makes a sound that might’ve been a laugh in disguise.
“Slow down.”
“No,” Hawks kisses him. “Let’s recreate the titanic scene. I’ll be Rose and you can fuck me upside-down in the back seat of a–”
“Hawks.”
“You promised,” Hawks whines. “You said when my wings touch the floor.”
Enji grabs his hand from the window, and presses his knuckles to his mouth. Hawks jolts, because of how quickly his heart clogs into this throat.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” Enji purrs. “But you’ll have to show me.”
Shiiit, Hawks is hard.
That’s right, huh? It’s likely that Enji has never experienced sex that he actually enjoyed, let alone with a man. Enji is afraid of hurting him (even if a bit of rough is yummy. That’s okay, they’ll get there).
Hawks snickers under his breath, and presses his laugh into Enji’s mouth.
“I can do that.”
Out of the car and back in the bedroom, Hawks strips all his clothes and shows Enji how to finger him open one digit at a time. Enji is a fast learner, but slow in execution, like if he’s going to do it, he’s going to do it right. That determination is every bit Endeavor, but also frustrating to Hawks’ ride fast or die trying motto.
He makes an effort to meet in the middle. He pushes away the need for fast and revels in all the places Enji is kissing over in fascination. He figured out exactly where to curl his fingers, and it’s not a bolt of lighting, but a slow burn that just rocks him closer to the edge each time Enji rubs it (and oh does he).
Hawks digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans.
“You’re killing me, big guy.”
His fingers are thick and long but Hawks wants the burn. He wants the weight, the sweat.
“I thought you liked it,” Enji mumbles. He pushes his thumb up between his balls, like you would when fingering a woman, and something about that nearly sends Hawks right off the deep end.
“Fuuuck, yeah I like it baby but I want you.”
Enji ignores him, biting at one of his nipples and pulling. Hawks shouts, his spread wings flapping back on the bed. His phone goes flying off the mattress, oops.
The mighty Endeavor’s mouth burns hot. Light blonde bodyhair is singed as Enji kisses his inner thigh. Hawks shudders; Enji pulls back to blow out air to cool himself down. He looks a bit like a smoker, and it just succeeds in making Hawks drool.
“Sorry,” Enji mutters.
“S’okay. I’m not mad – it’s fine if you burn me.”
The words feel like more than a confession. It’s all the trust Hawks has inside of him. Every single ounce of it.
Enji scowls, and when he brushes his lips across Hawks’ inner knee, his mouth isn’t nearly as hot.
“I would never. Ever do that.”
His voice is like ASMR. Hawks tries to fuck himself down on his slow-moving fingers, and Enji crooks them, adding a third.
He cries his name and wiggles and squirms and the only way he gets Enji to move faster is by digging his toes in Enji’s crotch and begging.
He loves the way Enji holds him; big hands under his thighs and up his hips, bending his legs and forcing his lower back off the bed. The feeling of his cock lined up against his ass is so intimidating that Hawks’ stomach drops. He also laughs hysterically, and then begs like his life depends on it.
“I can take it I can take it, fuuck look at me, I’m so hard because of you. I’m ready, Enji.”
Hawks is naked, but somehow it feels like Enji is undressing him with his eyes. It’s overwhelming. He presses his palm flat over Hawks’ dick and squeezes once.
“Let me know if you’re in pain.”
Pain isn’t the right word to describe it. Hawks has known pain. This is just – a delicious sting and overstimulation and being full. The stretch is so good, Hawks is drooling off the side of his cheek. Lube makes his thighs sticky. His wings puff and twitch.
“Oh my god yes – don’t slow down, just – yeah yeah, fuck me like that oh god.”
Hawks can’t feel any soreness – only a scorching heat that’s everywhere at once. Enji’s hands are getting hot from more than just sweat, and Hawks wants him to lose control. He needs it.
Enji ducks his head down and pants, “Dammit, Hawks. I’m going to hurt you.”
“You won’t, you won’t! It feels unnn, s-so good. So big, ah, yeah, harder big guy.”
Enji keeps watching his face. Hawks tries to pry his eyes open and watch Enji rail him; thick muscle, naked from the waist up, sweaty and every wet dream Hawks has ever had rolled into one – but Enji can keep a damn good rhythm, and Hawks grips the sheets above his head and wails. He’s trying so hard to keep his nails away from Enji, even though he really, really wants to touch him.
Naturally, Enji notices this. He braces his weight on one arm to nudge Hawks’ arms around his neck with the other.
“It's okay, baby. Fuck up my back.”
Hawks groans happily. His dick throbs and he scratches over all that tan muscle, digging in tight when Enji starts to really give it to him. He’s a fuckin’ pig in slop, and Hawks doesn’t even try to hide it. His wings are pinned to the bed, and they ruffle and shiver each time Enji hits him right. When they wiggle too much, Enji grabs one and slams it back to the bed, and Hawks’ throat hurts from the sound that’s ripped out of him.
He can feel everything; the strength in Enji’s shoulders, the heat in his skin, each and every time he pulls out to the rim and slams back in; it’s like having the wind knocked out of you. Hawks has been hanging on the edge for so long, he just has to rut against Enji’s stomach and he’s coming fucking everywhere. Enji slows down, his pupils blown.
“Jesus, Hawks. Look at you.”
Hawks’ throat is raw from yelling, but he’s still able to croak through the aftershocks, “C’mon Enji – in me, in me, I want it inside.”
Enji curses, and Hawks cradles his head to his chest when Enji leans forwards and spills in the condom. A crack in character is rare, as is the staccato break in rhythm as Enji just chases what he wants. His voice is restrained, but Hawks can feel the breathy groan vibrate in Enji’s throat, and Hawks purrs.
The hand on his thigh gets a little too hot. Hawks gasps, and Enji jerks away to plant it in the sheets, and the room smells up with burnt cotton.
A beat of frozen silence.
“Shit,” Enji curses. Hawks blinks.
Then he tips his head back and cackles.
“That was sexy. Round two?”
Exhale. Rustle. Inhale.
“You have a lot of faith in my age.”
“So that’s a no.”
“I didn’t say that.”
~
Hawks doesn’t see what he did to Enji’s back until he stands up to grab a towel. Hawks slaps a hand over his mouth, and gapes as Enji returns to wipe him down. He raises a half-scarred eyebrow at the look on Hawks’ face.
“What?”
“Oh my god. Your back.”
Enji reaches backwards to feel over the scratch marks, and winces a little. He sits down on the dry spot of the bed and pulls Hawks on top of him.
“It’s fine.”
He looks like he was mauled by a tiger. It’s hot, but the lines are deep and puffy and red, and will probably sting for a while. They cross every which way, horizontally, vertically and indents around his neck. If you squint… they kind of look like wings, carving outwards from Enji’s spine.
Mine, his brain thinks possessively. Mine mine mine.
Hawks curls up on him, sliding so that his feathers hang off the side of the bed. Enji starts to pet one of them, and Hawks traces the divot of Enji’s collar bone, more careful this time.
“Sorry,” Hawks still says. “The ta –” Hawks clears his throat, “— my nails are hereditary.”
Enji rights a stray feather, and his wings puff up and settle back down happily, like they’re alive.
“Your talons are powerful. You could fight with them if you quit filing them down.”
Hawks looks at his hand. They’re sharp even with the tips clipped.
“I’ve always cut them. The commission wanted me to be as normal-passing as possible.”
Enji must be tired, because he sets his hand at Hawks’ naked hip and mutters, “Fuck them.”
Hawks laughs. He rubs his stubble against Enji’s chest, scratching the side of his scar that itches still. The room smells like cotton and sex. It feels safe here.
They’re quiet for a while. Hawks thinks Enji might’ve dozed off.
Abruptly, and very suddenly, Hawks feels the immense desire for Enji to know everything. Hawks has grown old enough to fight the urge to overshare, but he just — wants all of his cards on the table.
Enji’s breathing is slow and even.
Hawks decides to take the cowards way out, and hopes that Enji is asleep. He speaks quietly, under his breath.
“Dabi knew my name.”
One…two…three…
“What do you mean?” Enji asks.
Ah, not asleep. Okay.
Hawks stays where Enji can’t see his face, and follows a vein in Enji’s arm with his knuckles. It takes him a moment to work up the nerve. He hopes he comes off as mysterious rather than anxious.
“My birth name. The one the commission burned.” Hawks clears his throat. “Somehow, Dabi knew it.” He tries to continue, but Enji stops him.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I want to. I was Takami Keigo.”
Enji frowns.
“Takami.”
“Like the thief,” Hawks agrees. “The murderer. You know the name.”
Enji hums. He thumbs over Hawks’ hipbone, and asks, “Would you ever take up that name again?”
“No, god no. I’ve been Hawks for eighteen years. Keigo…it sounds like someone else. A different lifetime.” Hawks finally tips his head up, and Enji is looking down at him with his full attention. “The hero commission might’ve named me Hawks, but I made it my own.”
Enji pushes his bangs out of his eyes.
“Mm. That’s what attracted me to you in the first place. Your resolve.”
Hawks’ heart takes the tour de France around his chest, fluttering around like an idiot on a trike. He giggles, and rubs against Enji’s jaw to give him a beard-burn.
“Eeew, you’re attracted to me. That’s so icky, you know I have cooties.”
“Can you be serious for five minutes?”
“Yeah, and my time is up. Round four?”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Fine, fine. Shower, and then accidental round four? I’ll ride your face and you can fuck my thighs.”
Enji sighs heavily, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, but then he swings his legs out of bed, so Hawks wins.