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There’s ash under his nails, dirt caked down his neck and sweat dried to his uniform.

If he’s being honest, Enji isn’t pleased about stopping by the office tonight.

Unfortunately it’s easier to write up statements sooner rather than later, one more pile of paperwork on top of what he’s already behind on. So he waves off the paramedics and limps into a taxi like any other Thursday.

Enji’s assistant opens the elevator for him before he can reach the door. His daughters voice nags in the back of his mind; ‘say thank you – ‘ but he’s never done it before, and the elevator dings, and Enji steps through and tells himself, next time.

The agency is dead at this time of night. He’s spent many evenings here, fruits of his own hard work – but such battles usually leave him seething in anger, hot hot and angry. Just angry.

He feels a bit dull instead. Watching the numbers on the elevator beep one by one, the urge to just go home has never been so heavy before. There are reflective panels on the elevator walls, and the sight of his own face still feels like someone else’s.

Enji got exactly what he wanted, in a way he didn’t want, and now he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It makes him hot with shame. The title of Number One didn’t bring honor to his name, didn’t fix his marriage, and didn’t repair the damaged relationship with his family. He doesn’t feel any better about himself.

He didn’t even earn it.

Enji blows out hot air, and scrubs a hand over his eyes as he steps out of the elevator and into his office. He stops short, because there’s a bird in his chair.

Big red wings slumped up and over the edge of his desk. Number Two hero, the second strongest in all of Japan – is dead asleep in his chair.

It surprises him dead still; hand still on the door handle and frozen in place.

Hawks looks exhausted, maybe a bit dirty and he’s in Enji’s office —

Enji blinks long and hard, and crosses his arms, deeply unamused.

“Can I help you?”

Hawks is curled up and spread out altogether, limbs pulled to his chest, but wings absolutely everywhere. He jerks a little, opening an eye as his wing makes a dull thud against the wall. Enji stares.

To Hawks’ credit, he comes to rather quickly. It’s for his own good, because Enji is moments away from throwing him out the window himself.

“You’re in late,” Hawks grins sleepily.  

“Get out of my chair.”

Hawks is lazy about it, sitting up straight and groaning as his joints pop. He yawns, stretching to one side and the other, “You smell like gunpowder. Wassit the league again?”

 Enji feels his temple throb, but bites down on heat and practices some patience. Unfortunately, Enji has allocated a decent amount of respect for Hawks. Even if Hawks won’t exercise any in return.

“Why are you here?”

Hawks shrugs, sliding around the desk as Enji all but tears the chair away from him.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Take a nap at your own agency next time.”

“But yours is so much nicer,” Hawks grins, popping his hip on the desk. Enji doesn’t know how he gets off acting so casual, like they’ve been buddy-buddy for years. He’s never seen so much of Hawks in the last five years, than he has since All Might retired.

The thought irks him, so his tone is gruff and bitter. “Go. Home.”

Hawks laughs, raising up his arms in defeat as he walks towards the window.

“Alright alright – no need to get so spicy. Nemuri says there’s a hero meeting next week, something about provisional patrols until we have the league under control.”

“Will you be attending?”

“Nah,” Hawks laughs.

Enji thought as such. He settles in his chair, searching for a pen, and only looks back up when he realizes that Hawks is still here. He glares, annoyance slipping through his teeth.


“Nothing,” Hawks chews his thumbnail, one hand still on the windowsill. He grins. “Huh. Who knew you were hiding such a pretty face under all that fire?”

Subconsciously, Enji feels along the edge of his scar. He catches himself and nearly snarls, but Hawks is laughing on his way out the window, wings flapping hard enough to disturb the papers on his desk. Enji slams them back down with a huff.

Hawks has, for whatever reason, taken a liking to Enji since the battle with High-End. Enji won’t pretend to understand Hawks, but he is not ignorant; Hawks will flirt with anything that breathes. It’s infuriating in ways Enji can’t describe.

The office is empty and quiet again.




Hawks does not show up to the government-mandated hero meeting. They leave his chair empty anyways, but Enji tells them he’s not worth waiting for.

Enji isn’t sure what peabrained moron would decide to attack an entire building full of heroes, but the league sure tries. Not the villains themselvesbut with a short army of low-end artificial humans, (the cowards). These monsters are easier to defeat – or at least, Endeavor would say so. 

A stronger Nomu approaches him from behind - but stops in its tracks, as if on the end of a leash. The beast gapes with those eerie, barren eyes, and Enji doesn’t hesitate to blow out it’s brains all over the pavement. Dumbass, it’s a basic lesson in combat; hesitation will get you killed.

“An attack on a room full of pros?” Jeanist threads his sleeves back together as he says, “An odd strategy. Did they really think that would wipe us out?”

“You can’t possibly know what’s going on in their heads,” Mount Lady says. She makes a cuck-coo sound, and the conversation turns more juvenile than what Enji is willing to participate in.

“Thoughts, Endeavor?” Edgeshot asks.

He has none. Their behavior is erratic and psychopathic, much like any other villain. He stares at what’s left of that winged Nomu.

“This was too easy,” Endeavor says.

“Speak for yourself!” Mount Lady whines, rubbing a sore shoulder.

The whole fight feels wrong, too hesitant, almost as if they’re testing the waters. This was on hero ground, but what’s next?

He returns to an empty home to shower off guts and soot and blood. Enji finds a red feather stuck to the back of his uniform, and absently sets it on the bathroom counter, curious as to how it got there, but too tired to think twice about it.




The smell of burning feathers has never left him. Whenever he lights a candle, trains in his dojo or works a hero shift, Enji is almost repulsed by the smell of his own fire. It’s always there, a trigger memory of some kid tearing out all his wings, just for him.

That memory is the only thing keeping Hawks alive.

“Woah!” Hawks flies up and over his desk, making a mess of Enji’s files as he narrowly avoids his fist. “Hello alarm clock!”

“I know your government pension,” Enji snaps, ripping back his chair. “Only extremely ill budgeting would forfeit an apartment at the least.”

“I’m not homeless!”

“Then go home.

Blood is caked in his hair, but it doesn’t look like his own. Hawks’ jacket collar is ripped, and he’s absolutely filthy, but still spry enough to dodge Endeavor’s grip in his sleep.

“Hey, I haven’t been on this side of town in weeks.” Hawks doesn’t pick up the files he spilled, instead leaning back over the desk in what he must think is seductive. “Can’t a pal just say hi?”

“You can make an appointment with my secretary,” Enji deadpans, trying to remember what he came in here for. It’s probably under Hawks’ shoe.

“Sorry, I don’t wait in lines,” Hawks purrs. His gaze flicks down and up, “Nice Burberry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit, but then again, I didn’t know they made ‘em in your size. Jesus.”  

Enji could probably kill him and get away with it. Not that he’s a liar, but the busted lock on the window is enough proof for a breaking and entering.  

Hawks warbles his feathers, and Enji remembers the way they burned.

“You look like you’re contemplating murder,” Hawks snickers.  

“I’m not usually so transparent,” Enji grunts, drawing another laugh from Hawks.

“Heard you had a guest appearance on Friday. I was sorta’ bummed I missed all the action.”

“It wasn’t all that exciting,” Enji says, peaking under the few files left that aren’t spilled on his floor. “You would have grown bored.”

“Hmm. You know, everyone keeps talking about how well we worked together in Kyushu. The people are calling for a team-up.”

In all truth, Hawks is easy to work with in battle. He’s willing to play support rather than steal the spotlight, which is surprisingly out of character. He’s earned the title of Number Two, but Enji won’t tell him that.

“I’m leaving,” Enji snaps. “Clean this up, or you’ll regret it.”

“Ooh, sexy,” Hawks beams.






“You,” Enji says, “are not making a habit out of this.”

It’s not even nighttime.  The sun is still up, bright and beaming through the windows, but Hawks is curled up in his guest chair this time, folded entirely too small, dark circles painted under his eyes. If it pulls at his heart, Enji would never ever ever admit that out loud.

Hawks snuffs awake, wings flapping out and nearly catching Enji by surprise. He steps out of the way as Hawks sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Yo,” Hawks yawns. “No need to yell, big guy.”

He definitely did not yell, but Hawks stretches and rises like he’s been sleeping there all night. Enji’s eye twitches.

“Get out.”

“Hey, I was just waiting for you,” Hawks picks up a folder on his desk and slaps it back down for show. “What is it, ten a.m.? Wow, the Number One life sure is luxurious isn’t it?”

“I had-“ Enji starts to say, but realizes that Hawks has zero obligation to know anything about his personal life, so Enji cuts off and glares. “What is that?”

“Why don’tcha come take a look?” Hawks grins, leaning an elbow on the desk and setting his head in his hand. Enji is really not in the mood for games today, but if Hawks waited all morning for him, he probably had some kind of reason (good, or otherwise).

Enji sits at his chair and opens the file with contempt. The manila folder is full of napkins scribbled with sharpie and pen. Enji sighs, but reads the…napkins anyways.  Hawks looks at him from under his lashes and waits. 

“Dates?” Enji gruffs.

“And locations,” Hawks adds. Enji waits for him to explain, and Hawks does. “I hear a lot of chatter. Here and there, I get around if you know what I mean –“

Enji doesn’t want to. He snaps, “Yes, and?”

“Weeell,” Hawks drawls. “These are possible LOV attacks. We don’t know what they’re really aiming for, but they look like heavily populated areas. Who knows where they’re growing those Nomu-thingies. Could pop out of the ground like daisies.” He pops his tongue.

Enji looks down, and up.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“These are all the locations I can’t get to,” Hawks explains, turning serious. “I’ve got my agency covering everything it can. I mean, you aren’t obligated to do jack shit, but it looks like they’re upping the frequency of their strikes.”

This is…valuable information. Enji is skeptical.

“Where did you hear this?”

“Around,” Hawks flirts, twirling his finger. “You gotta’ know the right people. A little-“ he sticks his tongue in his cheek and points, and Enji feel his face go hot.

The thought makes him sick. Hawks is an adult, but still young by any standard. The insinuation of exactly what Hawks is willing to do for intelligence is unnerving. He figures a lecture is wasted on him, so Enji doesn’t respond.

“Anywho,” Hawks shrugs. “Do what you want with it. I figured someone oughta know.”

Enji waits a moment, staring at the messy, scratched in napkins, and finds it in himself to say, “Thank you.”

Hawks gasps, delighted. Hand to his chest he beams, “Oh! A thank you from the flame hero – I can retire, actually.”

“Go home.”  

“To tell my Endeavor action figures? I will,” Hawks teases, standing. “I’ll think about it alllll night –“


He laughs, pressing a hand up against the windowsill and pulling down his glasses.

“I’m patrolling the area if you wanna’ meet up for dinner later.”

Enji offers his strongest glare in hopes of scaring Hawks off, but he might as well not try at all, because Hawks is unbothered by seemingly everything. It itches under his skin, the desire to see some kind of startled reaction out of Hawks. Some kind of anything.

Enji says instead.


 “So cold,” Hawks sighs. “Text me if you have any run-ins with that hit list.”


Hawks pulls up the sleeve of his jacket and winks, “Stay pretty, Ice Queen.”

Enji is tempted to throw his stapler out the window, but Hawks is gone too fast to try. He narrowly resists crumpling up the napkins and setting them ablaze.  


He rubs his head with a sigh.


Hawks flips his stomach in a way he doesn’t want to think about. But he’s regretfully useful in his own way, so Enji has his assistant file away the chicken scratch and tries to ignore the feather stuck in his windowsill.




Enji is here for no other reason, other than the intense desire to get out of his house.

His kids are home for the weekend, and dinner was less than pleasant. Enji is trying, but it’s not enough, and he knows it.  He’s on speaking terms with Shouto, but Natsuo is still…

Enji leans against an alley wall and sighs. It’s cool tonight, so he doesn’t bother expelling energy to cover his face in flames. He’s undercover anyways, curious as to see if any artificial humans really do crawl out of the ground like Hawks said.

The first date on Hawks’ list was tonight.  

It’s a quiet part of town; there’s people walking on the sidewalk, a few stray cars, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Enji waits and waits, and grows irritable by the hour. He checks his watch, the big hand almost past one, and figures it’s a bust.

An alert pops up on his phone, and Enji is quick to read it.

23501: Red Criminal Activity in Chiba. Code Six, Evacuation orders in place.

Damn. Damn, damn damn –

He’s an hour away. Of course – of all nights – a villain only minutes from his agency. And here he is, fucking around with some hunch a twenty-two-year-old kid wrote on a Denny’s napkin.

God, he’s stupid.

Face bursting with flames, Enji searches for his car keys and floors it towards the highway.




Hawks and Edgeshot are just cleaning up as Enji arrives. There’s a high-end Nomu lying dead in the asphalt, and the fire department is putting out the remaining fires. A sidekick informs him that yes, there are casualties.

Hawks is covered in blood, wounds soaked in dirt, but he perks up as soon as he spots Enji.

“Endeavor! You missed the party.”

“Wonder why,” Enji hisses.

Hawks pauses. Blinks rapidly, and turns to the EMT fussing over his arm. “Hey, give us a sec?”

“But sir…”

Enji crosses his arms impatiently, and the paramedic scurries off to another wounded hero. A pang of silence rings around the noise. Hawks sitting on the end of an ambulance, the sound of rushing water and the smell of burning debris all around them.

“Soooo,” Hawks drawls.

“I. Was in Nara,” Enji growls. “Via your intel. I won’t have you leading me on a wild-“

“Wait wait wait,” Hawks waves. “Obviously it wasn’t, because I had this location on the list. I think the dates might be a little fucky, but I wasn’t wrong. There could still be an attack in Nara.”

 Despite the desire to wring his neck, Hawks doesn’t appear to be lying. Enji clenches and unclenches his fists.

“Hey now. I’m sorry about your wasted evening.” Hawks offers a lopsided smile, “Lemme’ clean up and I’ll treat you to a drink.”

Again with this?

“Absolutely not-“

“We don’t even have to go to a bar, I’ll pick up a bottle,” Hawks gestures. “Come on. I’m real sorry, seriously. Your agency, three-thirty, Soju on me.”

If this was a setup just to get Enji to socialize with him, he is going to be unconsolably irate. And yet, he can’t stop staring at the gouge down Hawks’ neck. This bird tries so hard, and for all the wrong reasons.

“Who drinks at three in the morning?”

“Us,” Hawks smiles, hopeful. And this smile is different. Not so teasing, but tired and pained and trying anyways.

Enji sighs.




Alcohol doesn’t do much for Enji. He never had an interest in anything other than social drinking, which he doesn’t partake in much of as is. Divorced and remarried to his job, Enji can count a years’ worth of drinks on one hand.

Hawks is already waiting for him in his conference room. Perched on one of the couches, bottles on the coffee table, his hair glows from the city lights beyond the window.

“Took you long enough,” he hums.

Enji clicks on one of the lamps and takes off his jacket. Hawks has already tossed his tattered coat over the edge of the couch, now left in a tight, sleeveless flight suit that goes beneath the hem of his baggy jeans.

Enji slumps into the opposite couch, and watches Hawks pour him a drink. Enji takes it.

“Are you happy now?” He mumbles.

“Oh Endeavor,” Hawks sighs. “I’ll never be happy.”

Enji is unsure of what that is supposed to mean, but he takes the drink anyways. It’s sweet on top of bitter – still not great tasting, but Enji sets his glass down empty.

Hawks is staring like he’s waiting for something.

Enji snaps, defensive.


“Nothing,” Hawks smiles. “I’m sitting across from my childhood hero. Is it illegal to stare?”

In all truthfulness, the hero worship makes Enji uncomfortable. Endeavor was never at the top of the popularity polls, and he certainly was never approached by fans.

Enji settles back in the couch and breathes out through his nose. He decides to humor him.

“Not an All Might fan?”

Hawks wrinkles up his nose, “Fuck no. I’d pick fights with All Might fans just cause. Entitled little shit talkers.”

Enji grunts.

Hawks has one leg folded under himself. Bangs pushed out of his face, he keeps rolling his tongue around in his mouth, almost like a habit. He doesn’t look nervous, but pliant and relaxed and borderline seductive.

Enji never had a desire for feelingsHis quirk marriage was tactical. Everything else was just an annoyance, a pebble in the road -- sex and desire and fun. It was useless and in the way.

But the last six months have turned everything upside down on its head. Nothing is as he thought it was. They take a second drink.

“You missed a good fight,” Hawks says, voice rough after the alcohol. “Was a bit disappointed we didn’t get that team-up, but I wouldn’t have been roughed up so good if you’d been there.”

“You speak like that’s a good thing.”

“It is, sometimes,” Hawks grins, shrugging a bruised shoulder. He can see where the bruising goes under his flight suit, bare skin down his back, hidden by his wings. Fingers playing with the shot glass, Hawks looks him right in the eye and says, “A bit of rough is fun, don’t you think?”

Hawks is staring, and Enji isn’t stupid.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, cutting straight through the bullshit.

Hawks smiles, pouring another drink.

“Isn’t that the million-dollar question.”

“Answer me.”

“Well why not?” Hawks purrs. He looks up through his lashes, and despite the teasing, the relaxed posture and the taunt in his tone, Hawks’ eyes are dead serious, focused and predatorial; knowing and absolutely certain of what he wants. That alone renders Enji silent. But Hawks carries on, smiling, “I’ll check the boxes. Childhood hero, sexual awakening one, two, and three –“ he tips his head. “How about this. I want to.”

“And you just do whatever you want,” Enji accuses, low.

“Who says I’m flirting? It’s just an innocent drink, Endeavor-san.”

Enji scowls, and Hawks continues on. 

“You don’t have to be so prude,” Hawks curls his fingers into his own hair, lax and open and welcoming. Elbow propped on the armrest, white bandages down his neck, Enji has never felt so temped. “Pros fuck around all the time. I don’t kiss and tell, baby.”

“I’m not-“

“Are you?” Hawks interrupts. “Are you gay, Number One?”

Enji takes one long look at Hawks. He can’t remember being attracted to anyone. Not in any past, present or future lifetime. Endeavor has never been able to decipher the hot twist in his chest, let alone act on it. Was he even attracted to Rei?

In a moment of honesty, he says.

“Fuck if I know.”

“You don’t have to,” Hawks replies, with a surprising amount of sincerity. He takes another drink, shakes out his feathers and says straight faced. “Balls’ in your court, big guy, I’ve laid out my cards. No strings, I’ll be the best you never had.”

Enji is surprised when Hawks stands up and, instead of making a move, just gravitates towards the window and pops the latch.

“Thanks for this,” Hawks says. “I’ll think about you in those jeans when I’m fucking my fist.”

 Enji is up and out of the chair before Hawks can stick his leg out the window. He slams him up against the glass, on the far side where the window stretches from ceiling to floor. Hawks flails on a reflex, but Enji forces him still, wings flat like a pinned butterfly.

Nose to nose Enji huffs, steam puffing with his exhale. And for a second only, surprise flickers in Hawks’ eyes. The conference room is dark, but Enji can see it anyways. The immediate satisfaction is too much to comprehend, so Enji chooses to ignore the feeling. 

He growls low so Hawks can hear it.

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.”

“If you blow steam in my face one more time I will cream my pants,” Hawks says. Enji shoves him harder against the window, a reprimand for still finding the time to mouth off – but Hawks gasps under his breath, head clunking back against the window; his wings twitch along the glass.

Even as infuriating – as immature and disrespectful as Hawks is – Enji still knows that he is maddeningly beautiful. They put him on billboards, on magazine covers and T.V. commercials. Of course he is beautiful.

But he’s a clever bird too. And Enji knows. Knows he’s played right into his hand. Knows that this is Hawks’ game, and he’s but a stupid pawn. Hawks smiles at him, breath heavy, because Enji is right where he wants him.

Hawks wouldn’t put so much effort into something, if he didn’t have an endgame. Immature, yes. Unintelligent, no.

“What,” Enji starts, “do you want from me.”

Hawks twists his wrists from where Enji has him pinned, as if testing to see how strong he really is. Enji squeezes to keep him still, and Hawks chuckles.


Hawks is much smaller – seemingly fragile in stature, bones light for speed – but Enji is nearly impressed by the strength Hawks uses to fight out of Enji’s grip. His wings flap and thud against the window, and Enji slaps out a free hand to pin his shoulder to the wall.

The weight in Enji’s stomach is heavy. His tongue is thick in his mouth. The room feels narrow, suddenly small, hard to breathe and tense on a wire. This is a terrible idea; but he never knows what Hawks’ next move will be, and it’s a terrible kind of exhilaration.

His life is a long line of fuckups. Enji’s voice comes out rasped.

“What would you do if I let you go.”

“Ahh-“ Hawks cuts off, twisting. “Suck you off until my neck snaps. Please, fuck – god, please please please. I’ll never bother you again, pinky swear and hope to ah,” Hawks flinches as Enji’s hands build heat. It’s without intention, and Enji lets go, ashamed by his own reaction.

But Hawks drops to his knees like a saint. A heavy thud as he hits hardwood, like it’s all he’s ever wanted. Enji feels all the blood in his body go with him.

“Tell me yes,” Hawks demands, tone rough and ripping at the seams. He presses his nose to Enji’s thigh, turns his brain completely blank. “Say it. Are you scared? Has anyone ever made you feel good? Did your wifey ever beg to touch you like this?”

A chill seizes Enji by the throat. It chokes him, makes him burst out in fire and grip Hawks by the back of the hair.

“Do not talk about-!”

“I’m not your wife,” Hawks snaps. “I’m not yer intern. I don’t owe you shit, and you don’t owe me nothin’ either. I’m not asking you to make love, I want you to fuck my throat until I can’t breathe. Stop thinking so much.”


The last string snaps.


Enji reaches for his belt buckle, and Hawks is already there before he can pull down his fly. Mouth up against cotton, Hawks digs his hands in to his thighs, presses his nose against his crotch and breathes in like he needs it.

Common sense flies out the window and dies there – it’s dark, the agency deserted, and Hawks nearly pops a stitch in his shoulder as he scrambles to shove down Enji’s boxers and pull out his cock.  

“Oh my god,” Hawks moans. “Fucking yes!“

Enji has never done something like this. Nothing so unceremonious. Watching Hawks falls to his knees alone was enough to make him half hard – but Hawks pulls him into his mouth with no hesitation, no teasing, straight to the hilt and back up before Enji can even breathe – and he goes rimrod straight.

Something metal hits the tip of his dick, and Enji nearly jerks from it. Hawks blinks down and up, and then smiles.

“Oops, sorry.” He sticks out his tongue, and shows off a small bead. Oh fuck. “Probably feels weird without warning. I’ll make you feel so good, soo good, promise. Watch me okay? Don’t look away, I get off on it.”

“Shut up,” Enji grits.

It’s hard to keep his eyes open. The moment the bead flicks over the top of his cock Enji bites down on his own tongue and hisses. It’s weird, sinewy silver, soft and foreign and maddening. Hawks gives him only a moment to adjust, before he’s sucking down without remorse.

Enji’s body heat spikes. He keeps his hands away from Hawks just to prevent any serious injuries. The glass complains when he slams his fist against it, but it’ll live. Hawks sucks quick and hard, and Enji has to breathe out steam to regulate his body temperature.

Fuck. Hawks is good and he knows it. He wets his lips, slurps back down and by god, the noises. They’re loud and lewd and shameless, Hawks drooling all over himself like a –

“Fuck,” Enji grits, palm pressing into the glass. Hawks won’t look away from him, eyes up and innocent like his mouth isn’t stretched wide, like he doesn’t gag each time his nose presses into Enji’s navel.

The heat is beyond him. Hawks’ throat is tight, tongue slick and squirming and Hawks knows what he’s doing, and Enji can’t think about that right now. Hawks bobs his head, pushes back down and breathes heavy through his nose, moaning when Enji’s hips sputter a little.

There’s no experience that can compare to this. Sex was a necessary evil, uncomfortable and awkward for all parties involved. His ex hated it equally as much as he.

This is not that.

It’s fast, it’s messy. Enji groans behind his teeth, and Hawks’ eyes roll back in his head, like the sound alone is enough to get him off.

“Holy shit,” Hawks pulls back, wipes his chin and looks back up. “You taste so fucking good.” He works his hand, sucks the head into his mouth and nearly sends Enji spiraling. Hawks licks over the top, sliding that bead wherever he pleases, watching Enji’s face all the while. “I ushta-,” he pulls off, “use’ta daydream about bein’ your cockwarmer. Just sitting under your desk while you work, keeping you hard while your secretary walks in– mmm, you’re bigger than I could’ve ever dreamed…”


Enji grabs him by the back of the head, and forces Hawks back down his cock. Hawks moans through it, happy as a clam to sit still and let Enji thrust into his mouth. Enji is careful at first, but it’s too good not to chase; Hawks encourages him, grips the back of his thighs and pulls, begging him to go faster.

He throws more of his weight into it, and Hawks’ eyes water, and it’s disgusting, all of it – it should be, but it’s not. Hawks is a man. But he’s sucking cock like it might be his last, and without a doubt, Enji is into it.

Enji has no frame of reference, nothing to follow but the pull of Hawks’ grip and his own desire to see Hawks choke.

Hawks’s tongue is evil and velvet, the metal bead a constant reminder of who this is. And rather than regret, it just drives him further down the rabbit hole. Builds a heat in his stomach, flip flops around and drops like a stone, because he wants this. Enji wants to throw Hawks against the wall and fuck him raw. Wants to be whatever Hawks wants him to be.

Amber eyes stare back at him. Stupid little bird looks so bloody smug, like he knew all along that they’d end up here.

Enji thrusts hard enough to snap Hawks’s neck back. Hawk’s right hand flies between his legs, and his wings almost bust the glass.

Enji’s control withers and dies. Hawks’s throat vibrates around him, lets himself go loose as Enji nearly fucks his head off his shoulders – and all at once Enji realizes what the squeeze in his gut means, and jumps to pull away. He’s right at the edge, every muscle going tight. It happens way too fast.


 But Hawks digs in his nails and keeps Enji right where he wants him, and Enji comes jerkily down his throat.

Enji fails to tamper down whatever noise he makes. He knows Hawks will likely give him flack for it, but he’s never come so hard in his life. He can feel his stomach cramping from it, steam rising off his skin as he tries to cool down and still stay standing.

Hawks has tear tracks down his cheeks, and he looks as if he couldn’t be any happier about it. His throat works as he swallows, licking slowly and keeping his piercing carefully away from anywhere sensitive. He pulls off slow, only after keeping the head between his lips and sucking long. A pop.

“Fuck my life,” Hawks croaks. He feels over his neck, “You almost snapped jaw.”

“Sorry,” Enji pants.

“No way, you just ruined blowjobs for like, ever. How is anyone else supposed to compare to this?” Hawks licks over his lips.

Good lord. Enji has to look away. He gasps when Hawks pulls him into his mouth again, gently swallowing as if to take one last taste. Enji shivers from the oversensitivity, but his brain is too fried to shove Hawks away.

Hawks does settle back eventually, rubbing over his jaw once more.

“You live up to all expectations, big guy,” Hawks grins. “Imma’ be thinking about that one for a long time.”

 Enji rolls his eyes. He figures it’s only polite to help Hawks stand – but he manages it on his own, heaving up on shaky legs. Enji swallows, and looks down at where Hawks is obviously hard.

“Are you…”  

“I’m good,” Hawks says, reading his mind. “Don’t you worry about me. Dream seriously realized.”

Reality seeps back in as he watches Hawks shuffle over and grab his jacket. His eyes are red rimmed, lips puffy and swollen, neck agitated with a red handprint– and Enji did that. And he liked it.

Panicked, Enji says,

“This didn’t happen.”  

“Ouch, flight of shame,” Hawks teases. Enji tenses, and Hawks laughs at him, tossing his jacket over his shoulder, “Already way ahead of you baby.”




His home gym is good for getting out unwarranted aggression. Unforeseen foes typically get the brunt of it, but some workdays leave Enji training until the burn just blurs into an obsolescent thrum.

Everything in this room is fireproof, but even his punching bag can’t stand the week he’s had. Enji’s knuckles are bleeding, and the bag splits as he rips it right down the middle. Grain falls out onto the floor.

“Wow. Did it call you a bad name?”

Enji turns. His son is in the doorway to the dojo, a popsicle in hand. He looks unimpressed and unbothered. Shouto has become mouthier in the last few months, but Enji supposes he’s had it coming.

Enji doesn’t respond. He unhooks the bag from the ceiling and tosses it to the side of the room.

“I’m not cleaning that up,” Shouto adds.

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

“It’s spring break.”

Enji hooks a new bag in the carabiner. Shouto shows no sign of moving, so Enji rewraps his hand in fireproofing, and cracks it in the center of the bag. It doesn’t help to clear his mind – doesn’t make him any less angry, no less conflicted, no less –

It flies off the hook and into the wall. Shouto chews on the end of his popsicle stick.

“Can you teach me how to do that?”




Enji assumes he’ll see Hawks later rather than sooner. Hawks doesn’t seem like the type to let some one-night stand affect his work, but Enji is still surprised to hear the lock on his window start to jiggle. It’s only been a week.

Enji looks up from his laptop, and watches Hawks worm a feather beneath the glass and pop it.

He lifts the screen up, and Enji raises an eyebrow as Hawks slips in his office carefree.

“So that’s how you’ve been doing it.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Hawks grins. He looks…better. The bruising is gone, and his hair is wind-wild and shaggy along the nape of his neck. Enji must be wearing a weird look, because Hawks lifts up a file in defense. “Hey, relax. I’m just here to drop this off.”

Enji frowns, “What is it?”

“Updated dates and locations,” Hawks says. He fwaps the file on the desk. “I had a talk with my source. If this ain’t legit then he’s up shit creek.” 

Enji opens the folder and hums, “Real paper.”

“Aren’t you proud?”

Enji skims the list. Hawks’ posture is serious, so Enji decides to trust him.

“I’ll give it to my sidekick.”

Hawks’ face turns tight, and it’s increasingly difficult not to stare at his mouth.

“Whatever. Just don’t send ‘em alone. One of those monsters could really fuck up an amateur.”

“Mmm.” Enji studies his expression before turning back to the file. “I’ll consider it.”

It’s the same as before; a list of cities scribbled next to dates. A couple even have added times.

The last one is peculiar. Instead of a general cross street or city, it’s an exact address. It looks like it was scrawled on later in a different colored pen.

“What’s this?” Enji points.

“My apartment,” Hawks smirks.


Enji blinks, slowly.


Go figure. Hawks was acting too casual to be innocent.

“Hawks…” he warns.

The mental picture of Hawks on his knees is still fresh in his mind. Drooling all over himself, enthusiastically watching Enji’s face for any tick, any possible validation – the memory keeps Enji from throwing Hawks across the room as he vaults Enji’s desk, slaps his laptop shut, and plants a foot on his chair, right between his legs.

Hawks heaves up and over; with an arm gripped on the cushion behind his head, Hawks smiles as he brings his face inches from Enji’s. His wings allow him to hover, stretched wide and filling every available space.

“Come on…did you really think I was satisfied?”

A beat.


Hawks permeates the air around him, so close Enji can smell whatever cologne he slathered on his neck this morning. They’re still not touching.

“We wouldn’t have gotten this far if you weren’t halfway interested,” Hawks says. “Why not just come over and fuck me stupid?”

“You know why,” Enji says. It’s meant to be rougher than it is. He clenches his fists on the armrests, resisting the urge to grab Hawks by the waist and slide him that last half foot. “Heroes your age shouldn’t be messing with-“

Hawks’s gaze turns angry, walled off and bitter.

“With what? People like you?

Enji does not flinch, but he does narrow his eyes in return. Hawks huffs.

“I make my own decisions, Enji. Yeah – you can wipe that look right off your face. I’m the only person in the world that’s equal to you.  I’ve earned it.” Hawks flaps his wings, papers and fake houseplants rustling as he hovers up and into Enji’s lap. With knees on either side of Enji’s thighs, it’s a tight fit. Hawks snarls in his face and Enji sneers back. “How do you feel about that?”  

“You have three seconds before I toss you out the window.”

Hawks ignores him, continuing.

“You ever thought, maybe the reason I’m not Number One is because I don’t want it?” Closer, grittier, quieter. “Who do you think would win? Third degree burns, or my feathers in your chest?”

In a flurry of movement, Enji spins him, forces them both to their feet and bends Hawks face first over the desk. His wings go everywhere, and Enji pins him by a hand at the back. His brain immediately notes the muscle beneath his fingers.

Hawks is laughing. Cheek pressed against the wood, he giggles as he squirms.

“You’re too easy, Endeavor.”

Enji’s body temperature has skyrocketed, and he can’t regulate it with his heart beating so fast. Anger and arousal scorching in his blood, Hawks moans as Enji’s hands get hotter. He grinds back and flutters his wings and Enji thinks,

Fuck it.

“Get on your knees.”




He is not doing this.

Enji raises a fist to the door and knocks.

Yes, apparently he is doing this. His pride is unrepairable.

There’s a clink of the chain lifting, and Enji thinks God I’m a fucking idiot – but Hawks answers the door in shorts and a shredded tank top, and Enji thinks, well…

Hawks laughs at him.

“I love when I’m right.”

“Brag later,” Enji says, pressing his hands to Hawks’ narrow waist. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Mmmm,” Hawks hooks a finger in his belt loop and pulls. “I can do that.”


His apartment is not what Enji expected. Not that he had any expectations to begin with, but it looks surprisingly unlived in. Few decorations and photographs, not much out of place.

The bedroom is a bit messier, but Enji isn’t taking notes of the interior design, because Hawks is kneeling on the bed and sucking on his fingers like candy.

A his stomach drops, genuinely shocked at how sensitive his fingers are. Hawks senses this, watching his eyes with intent as he licks between Enji’s fingers and catches the piercing on his knuckles. Enji feels as if he can’t breathe.

“Relax,” Hawks tells him, pretty eyes, tank top straps falling down his smooth shoulders. “You’re tense as fuck.”

Enji tenses up more on reflex, and mentally curses himself for it. Hawks snickers.

 “I dunno’ what experiences you’ve had in the past, but I’m gonna’ make it so good for you baby.” Hawks rips out Enji’s belt and throws it to the floor. “And am gonna’ get the dicking of a lifetime.”

“Are you going to talk the whole night?”


Hawks drags his tongue piercing down Enji’s navel, and Enji throws him to the bed by a shove to the chest.

Hawks only gets smugger the more Enji manhandles him, so he gives him his money’s worth, following Hawks’ pleas of faster, faster c’mon really put your back into it – until he’s drooling into the sheets and busting open the bedside lamp with his wing.

Enji fucks him from behind – almost cross-eyed and near on autopilot, burning up inside and out, he grabs Hawk’s wings just to keep him from breaking anything else, and Hawks screams from the back of his throat.

Enji feels a chill down his spine, freezing up completely.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Ohh my god,” Hawks cries. “I can’t – your hands are so – fuck!” Hawks plants his forehead in the sheets and keens. “Don’t stop holy shit I will kill you do not stop.”

“You’re too tight,” Enji grits, fingers burning a handprint into the base of Hawks’s spine – and he readjusts his grip to hold him by the throat as he pistons his hips again, and Hawks sobs as he laughs.

“Fuck your voice dude. I used to listen to the same interview over n’ nnnn- fuck! -over again just –” Hawks tries to worm a hand between his legs, and Enji is struck in the chest by how much he wants to see. How badly he wants to watch Hawks come. How badly he wants to see his face. Enji grips his wing harder in his left hand, and Hawks cries out again, and instead of annoyance, Enji just feels an arousal so thick, he goes lightheaded with it.

Enji has many revelations that day. One of which, is how far he’s willing to go in order to hear Hawks grit out his name like a curse.

He’s being too rough, but Hawks begs him to. Tells him to squeeze harder, thrusts back in return and takes it. No holding back, no awkwardness. Just Hawks spilling praise, struggling in Enji’s grip and babbling into the dark of his bedroom.


“Not bad,” Hawks says, sprawled on the bedspread as Enji redresses. “Not bad at all, old man.”

“Check your face,” Enji tells him.

Hawks hums, and trails his fingers over the bruise along his jaw. “It’ll heal. Dang, my ass is gonna’ feel it tomorrow. I can’t wait until I really get you some practice, you’re surprisingly good at following orders, Number One.”

Hawks is all raw temptation, naked skin hidden by feathers and bruises and healing red marks. He did that. And Enji wants to stay. And that is terrifying.

“Don’t tweet about this,” Enji says, pulling on his shirt.

Hawks tips his head back and laughs more genuine than he’s ever heard.







Hawks enjoys catching Enji off guard. Enji hates it, which is likely why he continues to.

But Hawks gets away with it, and that’s Enji’s fault for allowing it in the first place.

There’s something about Hawks that he can’t say no to. The way Hawks stares – determined and fiery and wanting – almost a reflection of himself.

Enji wouldn’t be here if it was just sex. This is different. This is grabbing Hawks by the hair and watching him curl from the touch alone. This is Hawks crowding him against his office wall and dipping his hand down Enji’s pants because he wants to.

Hawks wants to. That is the part Enji is still wrapping his head around.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Hawks cries, babbling until Enji grabs him by the throat. And Enji squeezes, knowing Hawks will buck up and cry, “Oh fuck yeah!

Simple cause and effect. Enji is way over his head, and the window stays unlocked.




Patrol is worthless. It’s a low grade job, about twenty ranks beneath him and a serious waste of time.  

But (and Enji doesn’t like to say this often), Hawks had a point last week.  He’s not about to send his agents on a suicide mission, no matter what the media might say about him.

Enji is out of uniform today. He wasn’t going to come at all, but that list sat mocking in his office, and Enji couldn’t rest knowing one of the dates is today.

He’s chosen to sit on the edge of a park fountain. It’s late afternoon, and the city carries on none the wiser. Hours pass.

It’s another bust.

Enji takes out his phone, hovers over the internet app, and sets his phone aside. He’s always reluctant to check the news, because he knows just who will be plastered all over it. Enji is doing his best not to think of him while on the job, despite not having a good reason why, other than his own pride.


Enji waits another hour just to be sure, and then the community center explodes.


He works to contain the fires and misdirect panicked civilians, but it’s difficult when there’s six Nomus crawling out of nowhere. Body ablaze, Enji refuses to admit that he’s outmatched.

The screaming is loud. He’s clawed at, a fist connecting right in his stomach. A loud screech diverts two of the beasts, and it’s one of Shouto’s teachers, the one with the voice quirk. It does good enough for Endeavor to throw up a wall of flame and shield a fleeing civilian.

A white Nomu opens their jaws and snarls. Enji lifts a fist in retaliation.



The six beasts stop altogether, turning their heads towards the sky. And just as quick as they came, they turn on their heels and run. Endeavor is able to follow for half a block, but he stops when he realizes it’s a futile chase.

“Dammit,” Enji spits.

“What the hell?” Present Mic scratches his head. Endeavor has no answers.


By the time first responders arrive, it’s been longer than the fight all together. The EMTs insist on checking his wounds, but Enji demands they help the injured.

Truthfully, Enji was hardly scraped. One nearly bit off his ear, but that was about the worst of it.

The whole situation rubs him wrong, so Enji sticks around to converse with the Chief of police. Scouts are out looking for the Nomus now, but there are few reliable witnesses.


“I’ll have my sidekicks watch the area for a few weeks,” Enji says. “See if they spot anything weird.”

“We’ll check the pipelines as well,” Tsuragamae says. “They had to have gone underground, right?”

Enji hums thoughtfully.

“You go get some rest Endeavor,” a detective smiles. “You saved many lives today.”

Yeah yeah. He goes off looking for his phone instead. It’s not as if he can’t afford a new one, but he’s waiting on a call from Shouto, and Enji isn’t looking to break this feeble trust they’ve built so soon. ‘I lost my phone’, yeah right, like Shouto will believe that.

Enji passes an alleyway and is grabbed by the wrist.

Fight or flight tells him to knee the attacker in the face and light his palm – but Hawks raises a finger to his lips and tugs again.

Humoring him, Enji steps into the alleyway.

“I almost burned you,” Enji tells.

“I would’ve liked that,” Hawks grins, pushing Enji up against the alley wall. He looks sideways, and back up with a smirk. “A call went out for a pursuit hero. Couldn’t clean up your own mess?”

“Damned league. Downed one, and they took off running,” Enji says. “Can’t figure out why.”

“Odd,” Hawks bites his lip, and slides his hand along Enji’s bare arm. “What happened to the uniform?”

“Wasn’t prepared.”

A grin.

“Didn’t think the list was legit, did you?”

“Honestly. No.”

Hawks presses his palms to Enji’s stomach, pushing the shirt up to his pecs. Enji tenses, looking back to the entry of the alley.

“But you still came anyways. That’s a real hero right there.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Touching you,” Hawks says. “This shirt is fucked. Damn I’m hard.”

Enji swallows thickly, and watches Hawks shift on his feet. His eyes are narrowed, fingers skimming up Enji’s abs and wait. He snatches Hawks’s wrist.

“We are in public.”

“Uh, don’t you know who I am?” Hawks raises his wings, a constant reminder of how tall they reach. He leans around Enji’s grip to press his mouth to his chest, as high up as he can reach. Enji nearly jerks from the contact of his piercing. “They’re not just feathers, they’re my sensors. I know where every living thing stands within a ten-mile radius.” A second biting kiss on his collarbone. “Tsk. No trust.”

Their height difference is too much. He can see down Hawks’s shirt, and Hawks dips his head and licks across his right nipple – and Enji grabs him by the waist, turns them, and braces Hawks’ back against the wall.

“Shit!” Hawks gasps, wings pinned.

They’re nose to nose again. Enji stares him down. His brain is still half in detective mode, and something about this is wrong.

“You know more than what you’re letting on.”

Hawks smiles through his eyes. Careful, he sets his hands on either side of Enji’s face, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Kiss me and maybe I’ll talk,” Hawks mumbles.

They haven’t kissed. It feels too personal – and Hawks still holds this flippant aura about him, and Enji isn’t about to be made a fool.

He is however, deeply tempted by the slide of Hawk’s neck. In a moment of weakness, Enji dips his head and bites down, and Hawks’s cries echo in the alley.

“Shut up.

“Your mouth is hot. Like, actually hot.”

He squirms and squirms, almost enough to be annoying, and Enji almost snaps at him again – but Hawks grinds down and ah, he gets it now.

Hawks really is hard. A shock runs up his spine and down his gut the moment their cocks rub through thick layers of clothes. It’s teasing, not enough to do any real good, but Hawks grinds back down and seethes through his teeth and oh, Enji bites him again.

It’s quick, Enji holding Hawks against the wall, grinding his shoulders further into the brick. Hawks doesn’t complain; only digs in his nails and lets Enji nip into his collar. The pleasure-pain jerks to his dick.

“This is despicable,” Enji says.

“You mean hot? Because fuck, fuck it’s hot. Fuck me running,” Hawks tips his head back. “You’re so -ah, big.”

Hawks’s voice is guttural, and it surprises Enji when he actually feels an orgasm building, like some teen. Hawk’s hips are rhythmic and agile, meeting Enji thrust for thrust, and Enji has to readjust his grip, squeezing Hawks by the ass to prevent him from falling, and Hawks curses again. Enji groans into his shoulder.

“I,” Hawks starts, “would have a million wet dreams if you came right now. Shit – can you feel how hard I am? You could fuck me right now and I wouldn’t last a second of it. You do that to me, Endeavor.”

It’s so tempting to kiss Hawks and finally shut him up for good. Enji grinds hard instead, stomach clenching when he feels Hawks’s cock actually throb against him.

“Jesus, I’m-“ Hawks trembles. “Shit, slow down. I’m actually gonna-“ he cuts himself off, jerking upright. His face is alarmed, and Enji’s back goes cold. “Ffffuck! Put me down, hurry!”

Enji rapidly sets Hawks on his feet. He has half a second to tug down his ratted shirt before the chief of police rounds the corner.  

“Endeavor,” Chief says. He blinks a moment, and continues, “Is everything alright?”

For once, Hawks looks speechless.

“Hawks just arrived,” Endeavor says, proud that his voice comes out steady. “He will scout north in the probability that the pack split off.”

“Good idea,” Chief says. “EMTs are looking for you, by the way. They say you didn’t get a check up.”

Enji sighs, and waves him off. “One moment.”

The chief gets pulled aside by a detective, and Hawks sinks to the floor as soon as he clears the alley. Hawks presses his head to his knees, chuckling dryly.

“Nice one. Shit. I seriously need a moment.”

No kidding. Enji pats his own face just to check for flames. It feels like his whole body is stepping on a livewire. He adjusts himself not so subtly.

Hawks giggles again.

“I got Endeavor to hump me in an alleyway.”

“Sort yourself out,” Enji grits, and ignores Hawks as he laughs louder.




“Endeavor-san, please!”


“Just one talk show,” his publicist begs, heels clicking as she jogs alongside him. “You have the lowest media presence in the history of Number One! With the increased frequency of villain attacks, you need to make the public feel safe.”

He likes Nara because she’s honest, and has stuck with him despite Enji’s disdain for her position altogether.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Enji gestures to his face, and Nara rolls her eyes.

“Give it some thought. I know at least six different networks asking for statements – approval ratings have dropped since Yoyogi.”

Enji sighs and drags a hand down his face. Nara grins and bounces on her heel, pressing the elevator button for him.

“Wonderful. I’ll pick one that won’t ask too many pointless questions.”

“Great,” Enji deadpans. “Feel free to take time off whenever you’d like.”

“Never,” she beams, and the elevator doors close.

Enji takes a moment to scrub a hand through his hair and shake himself awake. His schedule has been packed for the last eighteen hours– he tried to have his sidekick sit in on two of the meetings, but apparently the government wasn’t excited about that.

He should go home, but Enji can’t sleep thinking about the League of Villains case. There’s a multitude of unrelated organized crimes he could busy himself with, but there’s something about the League that keeps him up at night.

Enji turns the handle to his office and isn’t sure if he’s surprised to see Hawks sleeping in the corner chair. It’s been pushed up against the wall, Hawks’ head cradled in his arms as he balances them on the windowsill. His wings are drooped, slipping off the chair and onto the floor.

Hawks’ eyes are black ringed, eyeliner smudged and fresh bruises down his cheek. Sometimes, in the deep recesses of Enji’s soul, he wishes Hawks wouldn’t go out looking to be hurt by anyone that’s not –


Enji sighs, quietly shutting the door behind him. Hawks doesn’t startle, so Enji leaves him be and takes a seat at his desk. He yanks his tie off and pops up his laptop, searching for some of the files Tsuragamae has sent him.

The office is quiet, other than his occasional typing and Hawks’ subtle snores. It’s a terrible hour, but he keeps a lamp off for no particular reason.

He is unsure how much time passes, but Hawks does stir eventually.

“Mmmm,” Hawks rubs through his eyes and his hair. Enji’s gaze is drawn to how Hawks sleepily pets into his own feathers and sorts a few strays. “Oops.”

“You look like shit.”

“Aww, isn’t that what every girl wants to hear?”

Enji rolls his eyes, continuing, “What happened?”

“Long night,” Hawks shrugs. He looks at his watch, “Late for you too, whatcha’ workin’ on?”

“I have no leads on the League case,” Enji says, setting his laptop aside. “Every attack is sporadic and different. There’s no patterns in the type, level, and number of Nomus they send.”

“Not to mention it’s only been Nomus,” Hawks says.

“Yes. Who knows how large their numbers have grown.”

“Plus the social media presence.”

 Enji blinks, “Huh?”

“There’s random ads that pop up recently, recruiting for the League. I’ve had a tech team on it for months, but nobody can track where it’s coming from.”

“Great,” Enji says. “Not what I wanted to hear.”

“I think they’re trying to create paranoia,” Hawks says, approaching his desk.

Enji scratches his scar and hums.

“I gave the Chief your list. I didn’t tell him who gave it to me or why, but it’s best for them to at least evacuate high risk areas.”

Hawks tenses.

“Oh. I see.”

Enji narrows his eyes.

“Why? What’s wrong.”

“Nothing. You did the right thing.”

Enji drops the subject as Hawks sways towards the window, and nearly trips trying to elbow open the latch.

“Where are you going?”


 “Stay,” Enji says. Hawks looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. “You’re useless if you’re smeared over a billboard.”

Hawks smiles lopsided, and shuts the window. “You sayin’ I can’t fly in my sleep? I have actually done that.”

“Fly in your sleep?”

“Crash through a jumbotron.”

Enji snorts, and Hawks laughs under his breath. He curls back in the chair, wings pulling around him. It can’t be good for his back. Enji tries for a rougher tone, but it comes out a little soft in the late hour.

“There’s a couch in the conference room.”

“I’m good,” Hawks says, propping his head in his hand again. “I could sit here and watch you alllll night, sexy.”

Hrm. Enji turns back to his laptop, and Hawks is quiet until he falls asleep again.




“And so,” Hawks continues, “I said actually it was just one sausage, but Mic laughed so hard he got everyone to trend SausageBoy on twitter, and now I can’t post anything without people tweeting SausageBoy at me.”

“Seems like,” Enji pants, “you should talk less about your private life on the radio.”

“Hey, I keep it real,” Hawks says. “If they can’t handle my deepthroat adventures on late night television then don’t bother being my fan.”

“Jesus,” Enji says, and grips harder in Hawks’s waist. Hawks has a decent sized bed to allocate for his wings, but they still fill up most of the space. Hawks is straddled in his lap, blabbering on as he continues to lean over, spit in his hand, and twist his grip around Enji’s cock like he could do it upside down, backwards, and blindfolded.

“I think you are way more fun to watch on interviews,” Hawks says, pumping once and chalking over the head. Enji groans, and Hawks continues, “Exactly. Super serious and straight to the point, you always rattle off details like a robot. Beefy as fuck and clever – you’re my type bub.”

Enji grabs him by the ass and squeezes hard.

 “Are you physically capable of not talking?”

“Mmm, you already know the answer to that.”

Enji pets up his back, fingers meeting the base of his feathers, and Hawks shivers. Enji is hard, arousal pooling in his stomach, but he’s overcome with the desire to see Hawks naked for real. Not squished into the covers, not felt through layers of clothes or hidden by hands.

“Why don’t you ever take these off?” Enji tugs on his jeans. The waist is so large he can stick his fingers through and still have room.

Hawks blinks, eyes wide.


“Can I?” Enji yanks on the waistband, knuckles brushing where Hawks is tenting.

“Y-yeah I mean,” Hawks snorts, sitting up on his knees so Enji can pull down his fly. “I just didn’t wanna’ scare you off.” Enji gives him an unimpressed glare, and Hawks continues, “Well now, can’t have you running off the second you realize I have a dick.”

“I know what you have,” Enji growls, and Hawks swallows, shivering again as Enji yanks down his jeans and the elastic of his underwear. His cock flops to his stomach, and it’s cute and pink and something in Enji dies.

“Still a dude,” Hawks says. “Sorry.”

Enji hauls him closer so they can frot better. They groan simultaneously, Hawks gripping onto Enji’s arm to steady himself. There’s strength in his hands.

“I’m not – having a crisis,” Enji glares. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Hawks is distracted. His gaze dips down and up, breath catching as Enji wraps a free hand around them both and squeezes.

“Ahh – yes. Faster, shit, alright alright sorry I thought you’d turn tail. Holy fuck, the callouses on your hands are – “ Hawks bites off and tips his head back, thrusting in Enji’s grip, and he goes hot watching Hawks squirm because of him.

“Does this feel good?” Enji asks, squeezing his free hand into Hawks’s left wing. He yips, and Enji feels his cock throb.

“Oh! It’s, it’s hard to describe,” Hawks grinds. He looks debauched, clothes pushed under his bubble butt, neck red and marked from Enji’s teeth. “Sparknotes: yes. Do it too much and I’ll probably pass out.”

In the back of his mind, the analyst in Enji recognizes that as a pretty large weakness. But Hawks is immensely powerful, and probably knows that anyways.

Enji moves his fist up and down slowly in hopes of prolonging whatever this is. Hawks is panting into his shoulder, tensing and relaxing and thrusting sporadically. Enji finds himself not chasing his own orgasm, but Hawks’. Enji curiously pets into his feathers again, and Hawks cries out, going stiff in his hand and coming hard.

Enji is surprised by his own orgasm. Watching Hawks bite his lip and tremble, groaning out his name in a low tone; he squeezes his fist as he comes, head thunking back on the headboard.

The sun filters in through the cracks in the drapes, and in the silence of Hawks’ bedroom, they sit there and breathe.

“Ah,” Hawks exhales. He pets up Enji’s chest, fingers playing under his neck. It tickles, and the touch is gentle, but Enji is too tired to bat him off. “You’re like stupid sexy. Did you come because of me?”

Enji does not answer that. He feels his face warm, but keeps his expression neutral. Hawks snickers, tugging on Enji’s ear. Enji would have murdered anyone else for that.  

They stare at each other for a moment. Hawks is just…looking at him. Enji studies his body in return; strong and muscled and built to hold up his own weight plus some. His gaze flicks down, and Enji drags his knuckles against the underside of Hawks’ cock. He gasps, thighs clenching.

“You’re still hard.”

And for the very first time, he witnesses Hawks flush.

“Um.” Hawks scratches the back of his head. “It’s my uh, metabolism. I can eat whatever the fuck I want, thank god, but uh. Yeah – don’t worry about it. I’m good.”

Enji hums and wipes his hand on Hawk’s stomach.

“Oh thanks, ew! It’s such a damn shame my shower can’t fit the both of us. I used to jack off thinkin’ about you rawing me against the glass.” Enji swallows, and Hawks smirks down at him. “Bet your place has one of those fancy bathrooms that’ll fit the whole Brady bunch. Oh, I’m right aren’t I?”

“You’ll never find out,” Enji snaps, pushing him off. If Hawks is offended, he doesn’t show it. Instead he rolls, wings tucking under as he spreads out his arms and sighs. Hawks’ jeans are still shoved down, still hard, and Enji wants to bite into his stomach and hear him cry.

“Darn. The kids home this weekend?”

“I’m meeting Fuyumi and Natsuo for dinner. It’s…” better, but still complicated.

“Hey,” Hawks says. Enji looks at him, and he’s straightening his feathers, carding his fingers through steadily. “Take it from someone who’s been on the flip side. Listen, agree, and fucking nod.”

“Okay,” Enji says.

“You’re an asshole,” Hawks tries.

 Listen, agree, nod, “Yes.”

“There you go,” Hawks flops back. “They’ll come ‘round.”

Hawk’s bed is cool and soothing, and Enji’s skin is still simmering, and the way Hawks lays sprawled is inviting in a way Enji can’t put into words.

It feels too quiet as he drives.










Fuyumi clears her throat. Natsuo is glaring at the floor. Enji scratches at his scar.

“So,” Enji starts. “How is…teaching?”

“Good!” Fuyumi smiles. “The kids are mastering collages right now. I come home covered in more macaroni than I’d like, but it’s fun to see them so happy.”

Natsuo softens and turns to look at his sister.

“You should tell him about the recorder incident.”


Fuyumi laughs, “Oh! Strap in, Dad. This is a long one.”




He receives a text in the afternoon. Checking for his family, Enji pulls out his phone and stares.

With too much punctuation, he reads a text from Hawks.


> Coffee??!!?!?!??! !?


Enji is technically between meetings, but he was hoping to get some work done before he has to go to that stupid interview. His phone dings.


> Now?

> Right now? Lets go right now



Enji types can it wait but his phone keeps dinging before he can hit send.


> NO

> It can’t wait


Enji relents.


Where are you? <


Hawks is waiting at the first floor of the agency. He waves, dressed in his hero uniform, glasses pushed up on his head. He takes off his headphones.

“Jeez, took you long enough. Did you lose a tennis ball on your walker?”

“Why is this coffee so urgent?” Enji grunts, passing through the door. Hawks follows.

“Cause I have ten minutes before I gotta’ fly to Tokyo, and it’ll be two weeks before I’m back.”

Enji raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yup! What kind of coffee do you like? I’m buying.”

“No you’re not.”

“Don’t pretend to be chivalrous, it’s way out of character.”

Enji snorts, and Hawks jogs to keep up with his stride. They cross the street towards the coffeehouse on the corner. Enji notices that Hawks’ feathers are thinner than usual. They receive a couple stares as they walk, but nobody stops them today.

Enji slides his hands in his pockets and asks, “What are you doing in Tokyo?”

“Boring stuff,” Hawks says. “Couple photoshoots. I’m gonna’ be the face of Rolex, so that’s fun!”

Enji has mulled on the thought of buying him jewelry. He’s not sure what Hawks does with his money, but he knows the piercings he wears aren’t cheap. Enji still wants to anyways, and it’s beyond reasoning.

 They step through the door of the shop, and Enji pauses in the doorway. Hawks faulters with him, saying, “Huh – what?”

Shouto is sitting at the bar with one of his friends. He freezes the moment Enji spots him. Hawks follows his gaze, and laughs.

“Hey! It’s little Todoroki.”

“Shouto,” Enji says.

“Endeavor,” Shouto replies. His friend sputters, standing up to bow,

“Hello Endeavor sir!”

Hawks is having the exact line of thought that Enji is having, because he gives Enji a look. Enji ignores him.

“What happened to school today?” 

“Got out early,” Shouto replies. Lie, but okay. Shouto looks to Hawks, and Enji watches his expression turn almost starstruck.

Enji gestures, “Number two hero, Hawks.”

“Heya!” Hawks sticks out a hand.

“Shouto,” he says. “Nice to meet you. This is my friend Midoriya.”

“Wow! It’s such an honor! Your wings are so much larger in person.”

Hawks laughs, “Hey, you’re the kid that busted through half a block with one finger.”

Midoriya bows, “Y-Yeah, I mean, y-yeah.”

Enji turns his gaze to Shouto. He doesn’t make a scene, but he glowers a we will discuss this later look, and Shouto rolls his eyes.

“So can you really feel your feathers after you’ve plucked them?”

“It’s about a three-hour window. I still have a connection for quite a while until the nerve dies.”

Shouto’s eyes sparkle, his tone more polite than Enji has ever witnessed.

“That’s remarkable. Does it hurt?”

“Not really!”

Hawks appears to be in his element, so Enji doesn’t interrupt yet. His next meeting is soon, but now that Hawks put the idea of caffeine in his head, he’s not going to leave without –

There’s an explosion that rocks the ground. Enji’s gaze jerks up, and Hawks meets his eye, and the kids are on their feet before the aftershocks kick in.




The twenty-fifth floor of his agency has been blown to smithereens. The top floors collapsed, Enji focuses on evacuating as many people as possible before he hunts for the villain and rips them limb from limb.

Blood in his ears, he thinks of anyone who might’ve been up that high. Assistants, sidekicks – he hopes the custodial staff was running late today.

“If you get me up there I can put out the fire,” Shouto says quickly.

“Gotcha’,” Hawks nods, and picks him up by the waist and shoots into the air. Enji is confident in Shouto’s abilities.  He turns to the Midoriya boy.

“Do you have your license?”

Wide doe eyes and a bow, “Yes!”

“Evacuate civilians as quickly as possible,” Enji says. “If you see anyone suspicious, drop them where they stand.”

“E-endeavor, sir. If you go in there, the building has an eighty percent chance of collapsing assuming that –“

Yes, he knows.

“Go!” Endeavor flares.

“Sir!” Midoriya nods, and takes off towards the emergency exit. Enji runs through the front door. The building is filled with smoke as alarms blaze in his ears. It’s hot, but the heat is an afterthought. He controls it with his quirk, searching for anyone that might still be evacuating.

He’s able to help most of his employees outside. First responders arrive, and Backdraft extinguishes the fire alongside Shouto.

The building still stands, and there are no villains found.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks says as he lands. “Your office is blown to all hell.”

“I don’t care,” Enji says. “Did you sense any people up there?”

“None,” Hawks says, and Enji can finally breathe.

“Thank god,” Midoriya sighs.

“Looks like you’ll be working from home,” Shouto says. Enji frowns, and looks up at the smoldering ashes of his agency. This just got personal. 




He does not see Hawks for two weeks, just as he said. He appeared reluctant to leave after the attack, but Enji wasn’t about to reassure him of anything. 

Enji spends most of his time working from home. He visits his injured employees at the hospital; he’s not very good at this kind of stuff, but he tries anyways.

His pride is wounded; chipped and a little bruised, knowing that his coworkers are suffering because of his own choices. And that’s what it is; a consequence. Enji has been poking his nose in a gang’s business, and there is a high possibility that this is just a warning.

Theoretically, the attack could have been random. But statistically?

Shouto hovers in the doorway of his bedroom. He doesn’t typically wander this far into the house, so Enji looks up from his laptop and waits.

“Um,” Shouto says. “I won’t be back until exam break.”

“Mm,” Enji nods. He saves the skipping school lecture for another day. “You did well to act quickly in an emergency. Stay sharp.”

Shouto nods, eyes dropping to the floor, and his eyes shine soft for a moment, before he’s gone.


Enji uses the quiet to get work done. With an empty nest and a significant distraction gone from his window, he tries to salvage some of the work that was lost in his office. Most were hard copies, unfortunately, but he did have his assistant digitize some personal files on Tomura and his League.


It’s not like he’s counting the days until Hawks returns. But when he doesn’t receive an onslaught of texts or a rap on his window, Enji reluctantly turns on the news.


Hawks is surprisingly vacant from the media. It’s curious; he’d likely see photographs circulating the internet. Fans and stalkers and a few arrests along the way. He’s naturally charismatic, hugging fans and accepting their gifts – and it’s not as if Enji forgot the kissing scandal.


Irritation begins to bubble in him, so Enji turns off his T.V. and heads to his gym.




Three weeks, and they’ve finally begun to reconstruct his office. It’s been long days and short nights, meetings at other agencies and overseeing the construction of his own agency building. Now that the structural integrity is confirmed, construction crews have taken over most of the floors.


Enji is halfway home and sitting at a red light. And in a split decision, he texts Hawks.


Are you home? <


His phone dings almost immediately.


Yeah <


Enji flips a U and pulls into the shopping center.


Hawks’ apartment corridor is grey and dreary. Enji can hear arguing from the floor above him as he walks.

The food is a little cold by the time he arrives, but Enji knocks on the door with the back of his fist and looks down when the door pops open on its own.


Enji peers in, and pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“Not sure if you like Thai, but I’m s–“ Enji stops. He sets the bag on the floor and ignites his free hand. “Hawks!

The apartment has been completely overturned. Pots and pans rummaged out of their drawers, the couches flipped, chairs busted; his little kitchen table has been broken in half. Adrenaline kicks in like a drug. 

“In here!” Hawks calls, bouncing out of the doorway. “Sorry, just got back today.”

Enji relaxes and cools down his hand.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Hawks scratches his head. “Came home to this. Nothing was stolen, but then again, I don’t really have much to steal.”

Enji gazes around the apartment and shuts the door behind him. Anger swells like a wave, thick in his throat.

“The league?”

“Probably,” Hawks shrugs. Enji feels the need to press him further, but Hawks’ expression is walled off and cold. His mask slips on the moment he spots the takeout. “What!! You brought me food? Oh my god that’s so cute.”

“Been starving all day,” Enji says, following Hawks’ change in subject.

“Err, we’ll have to sit on the floor.”

Enji isn’t bothered – it actually feels more comfortable that way. Enji helps Hawks flip his couch right side up, and he pushes the coffee table back to the center of the room. Hawks breaks his chopsticks and Enji hands him a case of noodles.

They eat in silence. Hawks is looking at him, but spacey and serious. Enji isn’t willing to create small talk. He mentally takes note of the broken window, the smashed vases and the crack in Hawks’ T.V. It’s unlikely that Hawks will file a police report, so Enji will just have to do it for him.

Enji looks back across the table. Hawks is poking at his food, and Enji’s chest tightens. He looks healthy; his wings are full and he’s lacking bruises. Admittingly, Enji came here for the same reason he always has, but it looks as if sex isn’t really on Hawks’ mind, and Enji does not blame him.

Enji cleans up when he’s finished.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Hawks says.

“It’s fine,” Enji says, picking up some of the scattered kitchenware along the way. He throws out the takeout, discards some of the broken dishes, and sets his kitchen chairs upright. Hawks continues to watch him from the livingroom floor, and Enji feels awkward and too big in this broken apartment, so he grunts, “I’ll be going.”

“Endeavor,” Hawks says.

Hawks prides himself on his speed, because it is real. No boasting needed, Hawks is fast. He’s gripping Enji’s wrist, hair in his eyes, he looks up and his gaze is on fire.

Enji tires one more time.

“Don’t lie to me. Are you alright?”

“I need you to…” Hawks starts, breathing in and out. “I need you to be rough with me.”


Enji narrows his eyes, “Sex is not what you need right now.”

“You don’t know what I need,” Hawks snaps. He bites off, surprised at himself, and smooths his hand up Enji’s arm. “Please. I need you to put my head on straight. I need you to --” Hawks clings to his arm again, eyes squeezing shut, and there’s something real about this version of Hawks that is alarming to see. 

Enji is unsure if Hawks truly went to Tokyo for a Rolex contract, but he’s not about to ask.

“Okay,” Enji says. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just – don’t stop until I tell you to.”




Cheek up against the wall, head braced by his hand, Enji fucks Hawks harder than he ever has before.

No amount of hours spent punching holes in the wall of his dojo could make up for the weeks spent apart. He fuels that aggression, and Hawks soaks it in like a sponge. 

Enji grabs Hawks by the wings and pulls, and Hawks breaks his nails digging into the drywall.

The bed creaks under their weight. Enji is only concerned with the tiny hiccups and downright screams Hawks alternates between.

Enji is angry. Angry that he allowed an attack on his own property. Angry at whatever has Hawks so worked up. Angry that he’s become so attached to something that’s not real. Angry that he missed this.

Hawks usually preps himself before Enji ever touches him, but Hawks wanted it to hurt. Wanted to have his wings pulled like pigtails. And he wants it from Enji, alone.

The pace is brutal and impossible to sustain, but Enji keeps at it despite the sting in his muscles. Thrusting into the heat of him, stretched to the brim and slick with lube.Hawks comes once when Enji yanks his wings by the base. Twice when he crushes his face into the wall. Three times as Enji flips him on his side and grips into his thighs.

“Fuck t-that’s it!” Hawks rasps. “Holy sh-shit there, you’re sp-splitting me a-apart I can ah  I can f-feel it.” Hawks presses a hand to his navel and bites into his own palm, the sound of skin on skin hot and terrible. Each sound from Hawks jolts south.

Enji is close, but Hawks is squirming too much, and he loses his leverage. He grips Hawks harder in an attempt to keep him still, but Hawks bucks around more, and Enji flips him on his stomach and slaps a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Stay still.

“I can’t!”

His blubbering has been reduced to basic sounds, broken off parts of his name as he’s hit with Enji’s thrusts. Hawks long abandoned any attempt to match his rhythm, just lying there gripping the sheets to hold on. Hawk’s legs give out, but he hasn’t said stop, so Enji cracks him across the ass for his squirming.

Hawks freezes.

“I said,” Enji grits. “Stay still.”

Hawks is absolutely rigid. In the back of his mind, Enji’s hands are way too hot – but Hawks is the one burning him from the inside out, not some quirk. Cotton in his throat, Enji swallows hard and breathes out steam through his nose.

“You’re being bad,” Enji growls.

Hawks doesn’t sound like himself.

“I’m sorry,” he pants. “I want to be good.”

Experimentally, Enji slaps across his ass again. Hawks moans deep and arches his back. That’s a rabbit hole Enji isn’t ready for, so he bites into Hawks’s shoulder and grunts.

“Hold onto the bedpost.”

Hawks does, and Enji pistons past his own orgasm, until Hawks is twitching so bad, his wings are flailing like a caught bird.


The room feels hazy.


Hawk’s breathing is labored and heavy, but the filmy-far away look is still in his eyes. Enji sits up to blink away some of the haze.


Hawks is not moving. Just the heavy rise and fall of his chest. He’s curled on his side, drenched in sweat and come and lube. His thighs are raw and red, and the handprint on his shoulder is bruising, and dread hits heavy as he sees the burn marks begin to manifest around his throat.

“I burned you,” Enji croaks.

“Feels good,” Hawks mumbles. “S’ really good.”

Enji doesn’t like to admit weakness, but he knows this isn’t his expertise. Still, it feels wrong to just get up and leave.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hawks says, reading his mind. “You… that was. What I needed. Thank you.”

Enji sits on the edge of the bed. His clothes are laying on the floor, waiting.


Enji gets up, adventures into the bathroom, and finds a towel. He can see in the mirror where Hawks bit him, right on the collar – but it’s a future problem. He wets the rag under the sink and approaches Hawks on the bed.

“Roll over.”

Hawks does obediently. His wings are completely sunken into the bed, spent and exhausted. Enji wipes down his stomach, and Hawks begins to shake like he’s dying.

“You don’t have to,” Hawks whispers.

Enji feels fatigue beginning to settle, but it can’t be worse than what he’s just put Hawks through. Enji tosses the rag on the floor and flops beside him on the bed.

“I’m just staying until you feel better,” Enji huffs.

Hawks turns his head to look at him. It’s intimate, laying side by side like this. Hawks has slender little thighs, and they’ve been marked from knee to ankle. Hawks shifts, reaching over just enough to touch Enji’s bicep. It would be too easy to kiss him. To taste all the sweat and tears and salt on his lips.

“Thanks,” Hawks croaks.

Ah, dammit.

Enji rolls on his side and hauls Hawks close to him. Hawks tenses, but relaxes as soon as he feels skin on skin. His nose dives for Enji’s chest, burrowing in and trilling his feathers. He shivers again, his body likely fighting against he heat of his burns. Enji grinds his teeth; he should not have lost control like that, even if Hawks begged him too.

“Feels good,” Hawks says, once again reading his mind. “Feels really good.”

“I’d hope so,” Enji grunts, and Hawks breathes out half a laugh. A soft and sturdy arm reaches around his side and fists along his spine. Enji closes his eyes and waits for Hawks to stop trembling.

 It would be too much to spend the night, so he leaves when Hawks begins to snore.




The agency is still under repair, so he no longer has to worry about sleeping birds in his office. Enji half-expects Hawks to fly into his bedroom one day, but Hawks chooses to respect his boundaries just this once.

His home is empty.  Enji could allow Hawks over, but it’s crossing too many wires; it reaches a place too personal and real.


His neck remains chewed to all hell, so Enji pretends that wearing a turtleneck in late spring is a normal thing to do. Nobody has balls to bring it up to him anyways. 


“I saw your interview on T.V.,” Fuyumi says, fiddling with her glass. “I thought you did a great job.”

Enji snorts.

“You’d be the only one.”

“What’s so terrible about the media? Don’t you care what people think of you?”

“Not…usually,” Enji says. “I can’t bring the foolish smile that All Might did, but I want the public to feel safe.”

Fuyumi’s eyes go big, not expecting Enji to admit such a thing. She gathers herself quickly.

“Ah. You’ve changed a lot. Have you met someone?”


“Nothing! Did I tell you about my class last week?”




Hawks has a talent for finding him anywhere, even outside his typical routine.

Enji is finishing up hero work from some nobody mutant that thought they could rob six banks in one go and get away with it, when Hawks decides to swoop in feet first. Hands in his pockets, he bounces up on the sidewalk and grins.

“Good work Endeavor! Your country thanks you for your service.”

Enji rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“What is it this time?”

“Ruude,” Hawks coos. “I was hoping for a warmer welcome considering what you did to my ass last wee-“

Enji grabs him the arm and yanks him behind a cop car.

“Can you not do this in public?”

“Why? We had so much fun last time.”

The teasing is annoying, but it’s a relief to see Hawks being himself again. Fading fingertip bruises peek out from underneath the collar of Hawk’s shirt, and god forbid Enji’s mouth waters.

“I was thinking,” Hawks says. “I never did actually get to buy you coffee. You down?”

Enji checks the time. Well, it is only noon.

“I’m still finishing this case.”

“That’s sidekick work,” Hawks grins. “Number One needs his crack – I can see it in your face. C’mon.”

Hawks turns on his heel confident that Enji will follow. Enji huffs to himself, and fuck he hates proving Hawks right, but caffeine does sound nice.


They sit in the corner booth. Enji is a bit big for the table, but Hawk’s wings don’t fit great either. Enji knows the table next to them are taking pictures, and Hawks even poses for one – but Enji isn’t much in the mood.

Hawks has one of those tall sugary drinks that Enji will never have the taste for. He sucks on the straw through his teeth and smiles while he does it.

“How’re repairs going?”

“Slow,” Enji says. “Working from home is fine, but I need my conference room back or I’m going to go crazy.”

Hawks snorts, “What, not a fan of Rumi’s office?”

“The big pink building with the rabbit ears? No. Did you find out who ransacked your apartment?”

“Ugh, no. I had to go out and buy a new table. I don’t have a car, you know! I had to fly home with an Ikea box strapped to my back like the cross.”

Enji is stunned by his own laugh. Hawks seems to be startled by it too, because he grins ear to ear. Enji clears his throat.

“You need to stay alert. We don’t know if there will be any follow up attacks.”

“Hm.” Hawks nudges his foot against Enji’s beneath the table. “I’m going to be gone for another two weeks.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. More work in Tokyo.”

Hawks moves his foot up against Enji’s inner knee, and Enji knows exactly what he’s doing, and attempts to grab his boot before Hawks can take it too far. Hawks pulls back fast, and Enji changes the subject as not to alert the other people in the coffee shop.

“Are you… feeling better?”

“Oh, since…” Hawks takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah. I’m kinda’ uh, sorry about that. It was a rough couple of weeks and sometimes my head just gets…” he makes a frustrated noise.

“You can come to me,” Enji says. “For things like that.”

It sounds like a confession. Hawks stares at him.


Hawks’ shoe is back, pressing right in his inner thigh. Enji clenches down on his coffee cup, focused on Hawks’ mouth as he chews on his straw.

“Yeah,” Enji murmurs.

“I will then.” Hawks leans a little closer, dropping his voice. “You were really good at it, you know. I just laid there and thought about your hands around my neck for days. Kept popping boners on duty ‘cause I could feel the burns rubbin’ against the flight suit.”

Enji sucks in a breath through his teeth, and Hawks digs his shoe right against his crotch.


Hawks blows him in the alley behind the coffee shop, and Enji damn near sets the whole place on fire.




Enji is not counting, but it’s been six days since Hawks left for Tokyo again.


He definitely does not keep an eye on the news, but there isn’t much mention of Hawks’ name. More Nomus have been popping up around hero agencies across the country; Enji works tirelessly to try and locate their new headquarters.


He’s eating lunch in his agency’s lunchroom, well past midnight when he receives a text from Hawks. Soba half in his mouth, Enji pulls out his phone and unlocks it.


> N 35.6728 – E139. 6304



Enji swallows and takes a drink, face twisting in confusion. He wipes his mouth; and goes pin still as a second text comes through.





Enji is speeding along the highway. His phone is thrown up on the dashboard, the woman on the speaker reading in half a mile, turn left — and Enji swerves into the leftmost lane.


Hands gripping the wheel, hero suit tight around his neck, all Enji can think is; this better not be a joke.

The GPS leads him to the front of a closed down parking structure. He’s near the inner city, but there’s low light streetlamps and heavy foot traffic. The entrance to the structure has been walled off by a cement blockade, so Enji swerves to the curb and jumps out of his car. Some lady yells at him, but Enji is unconcerned.

The thought of Hawks in danger makes his mind race. Hawks wouldn’t alert him of a normal foe, and whatever the reason, it calls for subtlety. 


Wind blows through from the north. It sounds hallow against the metal tin walls of the bar across the street, chatter buffering the eerie sound.


It gets quieter as Enji hops the barrier. He checks the map on his phone; the location is here.


His hackles are raised; he keeps his palm hot as he crosses further into the structure. Enji has attempted to call Hawks six times, but he tries a seventh. When it goes to voicemail once more, he pockets it and calls low.


Far away and echoey, his call is returned immediately.



He ignites his fist and runs headfirst into the structure. Enji looks along the ceiling, the floor and the walls, checking for traps or –


Metal shoots out from behind one of the pillars, and latches onto Enji’s wrist before he can flinch. A shell forms around his fist, and Enji shouts as he tugs against it; but another latches to his left hand.

Panic and annoyance flare up at once; Enji roars, yanking on the chains; but he’s kicked in the back and forced to the ground, and the traps around his hands begin to blow out liquid nitrogen.

“Wow,” Tomura appears from a portal, scratching obsessively at his throat. “That was easy.”

“You-“ Enji hisses. Two Nomus are holding him by the arms, a third clutching to the back of his head as it drools mindlessly down his back. Enji thrashes, sparking flames but not able to fully ignite. “You’ve finally appeared, you coward! Where is Hawks?!”

Tomura stands there. 

This is the man causing so much pain. This is the man that’s kept him awake at night. The man torturing his son, the man who injured his employees, the man who ended All Might.

Enji is ablaze with fury, the urge to strangle him alive boiling in his blood. Tomura’s smile is ghostly and wicked.

“Hawks? Oh, you mean this Hawks?” Tomura smiles, and a figure steps out from behind the other pillar, and Enji’s heart drops into his stomach.

Hawks looks at him. His face is dead and emotionless.

 Enji thrashes once more, and gets kneed for it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

“You did well,” Tomura says, carding his hand into the back of Hawks’ blonde hair. “I think you’ve more than redeemed yourself.”

“He was too easy,” Hawks smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Enji feels like his chest is imploding. “Came running like a little prince charming.”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?”

“Why are you attacking innocent people?” Enji demands. “Why send the Nomus to do the dirty work?!”

More Nomus appear alongside Tomura’s peons. Villains grow by the number, filtering in through black portals. There are faces he has never seen before.

“Oh, is this where I’m supposed to spill my evil plan until you make time to escape?” Tomura snorts. “I don’t think so. I’m going to kill you. And once our little Hawks becomes Number One, we’re going to flip the whole world on its head. No more heroes. Only justice.”

Sick bastard. Endeavor grits his teeth through the pain as his arms begin to freeze up to his shoulders. He can hardly look at Hawks. Can hardly handle the stinging betrayal. It kindles into anger instead.

“You’re an idiot if you think this can kill me,” Enji snaps. He heaves against the grip of the Nomus, throwing one off its guard long enough to rise to a knee, before Enji is shoved down to the ground again. He’s beginning to lose feeling in his arms.

Tomura grins, and the villains laugh behind him. He grips hard into Hawks’ hair, fingers barely skimming the back of his skull, and Enji freezes.

“No,” Tomura turns. “But he can.”

Enji meets Hawk’s eyes. He’s supple in Tomura’s grip, neck tipped back and vulnerable; but his eyes.

They’re a burning fury. Dead set and a thousand words buried in amber. Narrowed and fueled with fire.

“What?” Tomura snorts. “It’s poetic, isn’t it? Your own Number Two has led you to your death. Do you still trust him?”

Hawks is still staring dead straight into Enji’s eyes. Red wings begin to puff, slowly stretching outwards.

Enji sets his jaw, and growls with all the rage in his throat.





Enji ignites an explosion so large, it blasts out the entire first floor of the parking structure.

Debris flies everywhere. His own body is thrown several hundred feet; through the bar and out into the street. The ringing in his ears distorts his senses, coming to only when he realizes that he’s now outside.

Enji sits up coughing. There’s fire everywhere; onlookers run and yell, others stand around and gape. Dust is in the air and up his lungs, and Enji coughs more.

Tomura was blasted onto the other side of the street. He’s clutching his face, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him now!”

The villains are still coming to, groaning and clutching their wounds; but the Nomus turn on a dime. Like robots, they rise to their feet, open their maws, and roar. 

Exhausted, bleeding and disoriented, Enji sways to his feet, prepared to fight. Shouting, blazing fires, and the sound of distant sirens. Enji is prepared to die trying. The warp gate is down; this is his chance.

“Do your worst, bastards,” Enji spits.

Wind gusts around him, and Enji feels a weight land on his shoulders. He doesn’t need to look up to know who it is.

Hawks fists a hand in his hair, raises his wings high above and snarls. Relief floods Enji’s body, and he grins ear to ear.

“You!!!” Tomura cries. The skin on his face has nearly melted. He points shakily. “Kill them both!”

The villains have gathered themselves. There’s nearly three dozen; spike quirks, guns, bodies of cement and sludge and every quirk imaginable. The blue fire quirk, the lizard man; they’re all here. 

A whirring sound starts feint, and grows louder with each second. The fires begin to gust, and Enji gets the complete satisfaction of watching Tomura’s face fall as a helicopter full of pros comes into view. 

“You brilliant bitch,” Hawks laughs from above.

Enji scoffs, “Did you really think I would come here without telling anyone?”

Tomura screams, the Nomus take charge, and with Hawks’ wings on his back, they fight as one.  




 It’s a different kind of déjà vu. Enji has been here before, but it’s like looking in on the other side of the glass.


Hands in his pockets, Enji stands at the foot of the hospital bed and waits.


Hawks has no feathers left. His neck and shoulders are wrapped in bandages all the way down to his fingers. The white room smells too clean, and the heart monitor is a subtle white noise.

Enji continues to wait. Hawks’ eyes are downturned, ringed in bruises and scrapes and bandages. Even under all that pain, his face is still beautiful.

Enji only underwent light healing for his hands and several bite wounds on his leg. There’s slight nerve damage, but nothing he can’t live with.

Hawks ended up with most of the injuries; throwing himself in the fray and using up every last feather to end the League of Villains.

With the arrest of so many criminals, Enji was pulled aside by an agent, and finally told the story of Hawks’ undercover assignment given by the government. Enji was absolutely disgusted by the sheer amount of relief he felt.

Hawks is no traitor. 

Everything makes sense, and Enji’s heart feels like lead in his chest. 

The air is so tense Enji can nearly taste it. Hawks finally, finally looks at him.

“You played me,” Enji says.  

Hawks smiles weakly.

“Not for the reasons you think.”

“No,” Enji frowns. “It’s exactly for the reasons I think.”

Hawks’ eyes go wide. Enji asks, tone low and dead serious.

“Do you go to such lengths to protect all your flings?”


Fake hit lists. Sleeping in his office. The urgent coffee run a convenient twenty minutes before a bomb explodes in his agency building. Enji isn’t a detective for nothing.



Hawks was protecting him.



Enji waits for a response, but Hawks looks as if he’s just been torn open and laid bare. He looks vulnerable, open with no mask in sight. He smiles without any humor in his eyes.

“There are no other flings, Endeavor. You’re it.”

It’s a confession. Not the type Enji is used to, but he knows one when he sees it. It makes his body explode from the inside out. Hot and cold and an electric chill down his back. Enji needs to know.

“Why go to all the effort?”

“When I was given the assignment, I took it at face value,” Hawks slowly explains. “I was willing to corrupt myself for the greater good. I did bad things, Endeavor. I had to sit and watch heroes die.”

“Why not tell me sooner?”

“I couldn’t afford any chance of blowing my cover. The league didn’t trust me enough to tell me their plans, and if I lost ‘em, I’d never find them again. They were planning an apocalypse, Enji. I had to prove I was loyal.”

Enji’s chest squeezes. He steps closer, fingers clenching on the bedrail. “But you put yourself at risk by continually saving me. I was a target of the league. Why not just let me die?”

Hawks crumbles. He curls into himself, hands flying to his face.

“I couldn’t! I – after high-end I…” Hawks breathes out shakily. He touches his own cheek as if it’s Enji’s scar. “It was my fault. It was all my fault. You got hurt because of me and – I couldn’t watch you die.”

Enji thinks of Hawks’ ransacked apartment.

“It was a warning,” Enji says. “Your apartment. You foiled their assassination attempt.”

“I had to think fast,” Hawks mumbles. “I had to bring ‘em out in the open where we could catch them. But Dabi and Tomura... they know a setup anywhere. I thought…I hoped. If I called you, you’d come. Tomura couldn’t resist the chance to kill Number One.”

Enji’s throat is tight.

“And the sex?”

“I thought I was going to die,” Hawks says. “I wanted whatever I could have. I needed it. Would you have ever touched me if I’d told you I was in love with you?”

Enji jerks back, hand letting go of the rail as if it electrocuted him.

Hawks turns his head away and laughs dryly.

“Yeah. Thought so.”

Enji turns towards the door and leaves.




Today is the first heavy rain of the year. It’s gushing in droves, so Enji doesn’t waste his time attempting hero work. Fighting in the rain expels too much energy.

With his fixation coming to an end, Enji stands amid his kitchen and prepares dinner just so he has something to do with his hands.

There are other cases. But Enji’s mind feels blank and too full all at once. It’s a hollow feeling. 

Vrrrt, vrrrt, vrrrt

Enji wipes off his hands and grabs his phone off the counter. He glances at the ID and answers,


Hey. Endeavor.”

Enji hopes one day he’ll call him father, but he won’t hold out on a miracle.

“What is it?”

“Just uh. Saw the news. Congrats on busting the league.”

Enji knows Shouto and his friends have dealt their fair share with these criminals, far more than they should at their age. Enji didn’t understand that before, but he does now.

“You should be able to rest easy.”

“Yeah. Hopefully that’s the end of the Yuuei attacks.” A pause. “Everyone’s talking about it.”


“You and Hawks. Have you seen the magazines?”

What? Enji shifts the phone to his other ear.

“No. Is it bad?”

“Err. Not really. It’s kind of super badass. I heard he got injured, is he okay?”

Enji breathes out.

“Yes. I visited him in the hospital last week. He’s out already.”

“That’s good, I’m glad. He’s way cooler than you.”


Shouto pauses, like he wants to say something. Enji waits.

“Um. Anyways, that’s all I wanted to say. You should take a break. Or not – I don’t care.”

“I’ll…keep it in mind.”

“Just…” Shouto trails off, and after a moment he continues. “Just do something that makes you happy. And look up the news.”


Enji blinks down at his phone. It’s not the worst way Shouto has ever hung up on him, but it leaves Enji curious.

He decides to Google his own name in search of whatever photo his son is referencing. About a dozen shaky cell-phone videos pop up, along with news stories and – at last, the magazine cover.

He has about seventeen missed calls from his publicist. Hmm, well. This is probably why.

It’s Enji in full uniform, caked in dirt and bruises and smoldering from the explosion. Hawks is perched on his shoulders, wings spread up and filling every available space of the photograph. Hawks is shouting, a hand clawed in Enji’s hair – and Enji is smiling wicked.

He’s never seen himself look so –

Shouto’s words begin to make some sense.

Enji can’t drag his eyes away from the cover. From Hawks on his shoulders, injured from Enji’s explosion, but curled over Enji like he’s shielding him from the world.

It feels like there’s a barbell on his chest.

He needs to go.




Enji doesn’t expect Hawks to respond at all – and in all truth, Hawks doesn’t owe him anything.

But Hawks does reply, so Enji drives through the south part of town and finds his agency building tucked behind a museum.

He knew Hawks rented five or six floors of a tower for his agency, but he didn’t know it was so tall.  He can see a wide pool balcony way up on the thirtieth floor, and Enji has a hunch that it’s his landing deck.

“The Hawks agency?” Enji asks.

The receptionist pops her gum.

“Do you have an appo-“ she stops as she registers Enji’s face. “Oh. Thirty first floor.”

Figures. Enji steps into the elevator. It’s a quick ride; the doors ding, and he walks into a maroon hallway.

There are doors lined up and down the hall. Enji finds his way. He opens a door and finds an office full of twenty-somethings; feet kicked up on the desk, messily working on a subset of technology that Enji doesn’t understand.

They look up and stare. Before Enji can speak a word, a bird-headed boy points down the hall. Enji grunts a thank you and strides towards the last door.

It’s not particularly fancy. You wouldn’t know it from any other. There’s no plaque, no engravings; just a door.

Enji knocks twice and opens it.

Hawks is sitting on his desk, picking at his teeth with a toothpick and talking on the phone with his good shoulder.

“-he said he’d send my team the hard copy but– oh! Yumi I gotta’ go. Yeah yeah yeah okay. Thanks bye.”

Hawks locks his phone and sets it on his desk. Enji gets a quick glance at his office.

This is how Enji envisioned his apartment would be. There are shelves and shelves of paraphernalia; photographs, fanart, pinned paperwork tied by red strings, Pepsi cans on the floor, and big French doors. Enji will not comment on the shelf of Endeavor action figures.

“Hi,” Hawks says flatly.


“You like?” Hawks tries.

“It’s you,” Enji responds. Hawks looks down to his hands, and picks at his rings.

“What do you want?”

Enji will not be a coward anymore; will not shrivel and cower like a fool.

If it is a bad decision, then so be it. Like a ripcord, Enji just says it outright.

“Will you come over for dinner?”

Hawks’ eyes go so big, his mouth drops open. He blinks multiple times and arches his eyebrows.

“At your house?”


“Like a date?”


”For real?”

”It’s a yes or no question!” Enji snaps, and immediately cringes at himself.

Hawks exhales. His face runs through a multitude of emotions; he settles on suspicion.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“This isn’t about a debt,” Enji says. “This is about us.”

“Us,” Hawks croaks. Enji wants to hold his face in his hands.


Hawks looks up. Spins the jewelry on his fingers and says, “I’ll think about it.”




 Enji has learned to cook more in recent years. He hired a home chef for a while, after Rei…left – but Enji was never home in decent meal-eating hours, so Enji let the chef go.


 Hawks shows up on his doorstep in a button-down and baggy street-fashion jeans, as if Hawks couldn’t decide to dress up or down, so he decided on both. He’s stiff as a board, until he smells the food.

“Holy shit, did you make this?”


“This is like, real food,” Hawks says, peering over the table, and up around the dining room.

“As opposed to fake food.”

“You know what I mean. Wow, this is exactly the kind of house I’d expect from you.”

Enji snorts, and gestures for Hawks to take a seat. He opens the fridge, asking, “Is that a bad thing?”

“You have an eye for interior design, trust me.” Hawks plops on one of the pillows and spreads his palm along the wood. “Traditional Japanese table and everything.”

Enji does not humor him by admitting that it was him that designed the house. Enji brings over a soda for Hawks, and takes a seat across from him.

“Thanks! What is this, udon? It smells fucking killer.”

“Help yourself,” Enji shrugs.

Hawks serves his plate, and Enji hates that he’s nervous. He doesn’t know what to say. Everything that comes to mind sounds too harsh, too outright, too awkward –

“Have you heard anything from Tsuragamae?” Hawks asks.

This Enji can do.

“They’ve caught the head of the snake,” Enji says. “Now they’re just hunting down the rest of the body.”

“Mmm. Last I heard they were going through all the lab files.”

“Thanks to you,” Enji says. “They would have never found the Nomu laboratory otherwise.”

“I hate those things,” Hawks grits. “Always did. Especially once I found out how they were making ‘em. How many people did we kill, Enji?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Enji admits. Villains he can do. Innocent people who never asked for such a fate? It makes him sick.

“I’m ready for all this to be over with,” Hawks sighs. “I want to move on with my life.”

It’s obvious that Hawks made great personal sacrifices for his undercover work. Enji has only begun to understand the half of it.

“It was unfair of the government to ask that of you,” Enji says. “We’re heroes, not spies.”

Hawks shrugs, “I was the perfect candidate. No family, young, expendable.”

Enji flares, narrowing his eyes. “You are not expendable.”

Hawks chews, fiddling with his chopsticks as he swallows. He waits a moment longer, and shrugs again.

“It was hard. I couldn’t keep personal stuff around. Had to be careful who I let into my personal life. But hell I’d do it again.”

There’s an unsaid insinuation that Enji was one of the few people Hawks could allow in his life. Enji doesn’t respond, and they eat in silence a moment longer. Hawks breaks it naturally, grinning.

“Did you see the pictures?”


“Our big team up,” Hawks smirks. “Only the coolest mag of all time, right?”

“My son told me about it,” Enji nods. “Said it was badass. But I think he cared more about you than me.”

Hawks laughs, and Enji snorts once, pausing to take a drink. Hawks is gazing at him from across the table – and he stops eating to prop his head in his hand and sigh. He’s very pretty in a dress shirt. Hawks even put in earrings.

His voice is grainy enough to drag Enji from his thoughts.

“So, why now?”

Enji lifts an eyebrow, ticked at the vagueness in his tone. 

“Why what?”

“Why invite me over now,” Hawks clarifies. “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart. You’ve already had enough of those to last a lifetime.”

Enji sets his glass back down with a clink against the coaster.

“I’m not sure I have the right answer.”

“Try me,” Hawks says. When Enji doesn’t respond, he prods, “Is this about what I said at the hospital? You know we can keep on like we’ve been. I never asked for anything more from you.”

“No. It’s not about that.”

“Is it a joke?” Hawks tips his head. “Maybe you are the cruel type. You just wanna’ watch me get my hopes up before I crash and burn. Very sneaky.”

Enji grows angry, spitting, “That’s not it!”

“Poor little Hawks. Flew too close to the sun and burned up all his feathers. If you’re ashamed of me, just say so. I won’t be mad – it’s no use having your dirty little secret messing up all your fancy furniture –“

Enji slams his hand down against the table, and Hawks jerks back, back going rod straight. The silverware rattles, and cuts a cold silence into the room.

“I’m only saying this once,” Enji snaps. “So you better listen to me.”

A shallow nod.


Dinner went south quicker than Enji anticipated. How does he say it? How does he make it sound right? The table feels like a mile stretch between them. Hawks’ small wings mock him, still growing back for him. Once again, plucked to the bone to protect him. Enji owes Hawks this at the least.

“You annoy me more than anyone I’ve ever met,” Enji says. Hawks blinks quickly, but Enji continues. With a hard breath and a solid determination, “But I can’t continue on without you.”

“Oh,” Hawks says.

“My life is a slough of fuckups, and you don’t deserve to be dragged into it. But I don’t want anyone else to touch you. I want you to be with me.

He said it. It’s out there.

“I want to be one of your fuckups,” Hawks sniffs. “I wanna’ hold on until you toss me out.”

“I won’t do that,” Enji says.

Hawks laughs incredibly to himself and shakes his head. “Do you even know how to like someone?”

“I do now,” Enji says. Hawks’ eyes snap to him. His smile is slow. A twitch of his lips and a glow in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t care anyways. I’d take you however I could get ya.”

“So you’ll have dinner with me again?”

“I’ll have a thousand dinners with you, big guy.”




With that out of the way, they’re able to have a semi-regular evening. Hawks continues to prompt him out of his comfort zone, switching topics from work, to his kids, to eventually pop culture and the weird grey areas that overlap.

Whenever he thinks Hawks might laugh, he doesn’t. Hawks has the ability to read a room and be serious when called for, and it might be one of the traits that has Enji so attracted to him.

Hawks helps him clear the table, and Enji stands at the sink washing dishes. They’ve fallen into a comfortable silence; the sound of the sink running, dishes lightly clattering as Hawks brings them to the counter.

Enji steals a glance, and feels like a crushing schoolboy. Hawks has paused to look at his phone, but he’s stacked bowls and dishes up his free arm, and it’s obvious that he has restaurant experience. Hawks clacks the bead of his tongue ring against his teeth as he scrolls through his phone; and it’s a small tick, but it makes Enji’s heart skip.

He scrubs through the last few dishes. It’s almost summer, and the cicadas have already begun to screech outside his kitchen window.

Arms wrap around him from behind. Enji pauses his scrubbing.

Hawks plants his forehead between Enji’s shoulder-blades and mumbles.

“Aren’t you a cute little housewife.”

Enji rolls his eyes.


Hawks breathes out a sigh through his nose. Small hands press flat against his stomach. Maybe not so small. Maybe Enji is just big. 

Hawks snuffs into his shirt.

“Thanks for having me over. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole.”

Enji frowns and turns off the sink. A pause, and then.

“I’m an asshole too.” Enji turns in his arms, his lower back pressing into the countertop. “It cancels each other out.”

Hawks laughs heartily, almost like a sigh of relief. He bonks his head into Enji’s collarbone, and squeezes Enji around the waist. Enji hugs him back.

They stand there against his kitchen sink. If Enji focuses enough, he can feel Hawks’ heart hammering against his chest. It makes his own heart quicken in return. Hawks feels so passionately, so completely – just for Enji – that he feels a need to protect it. That somehow, Hawks hasn’t grown as bitter and distrusting of love as Enji has.

Hawks pulls back enough to look him in the eye. Enji feels drawn to him, like a lighthouse. Fingers come up to rest at his chin, and Enji leans into his palm as Hawks thumbs across his scar. Enji can’t remember anyone touching him so gently. Maybe Rei had tried. Maybe Enji hadn’t melted enough to let her.

Enji clasps a hand at the nape of Hawks’ neck. It feels right; like his palm was made to fit there.

Hawks whispers lightly,

“This is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.”

“Oh really?” Enji mumbles.

“Yup. Dating 101. I have the textbook in my car.”

“You don’t have a car,” Enji says, and leans down far enough to brush their lips together.

Hawks ignites all at once. He sucks in a hard breath through his nose, digs his hand into the short hair of Enji’s neck, and leans up on his toes to press back.

Enji can’t help but close his eyes. It’s a spark that shivers through him. He holds Hawks close, and when Hawks parts his lips Enji does too.

It gets better; they don’t pull apart yet. Enji tries, but Hawks chases, and Enji follows through, swallowing him up completely.

Hawks makes a soft mmm sound. He’s a remarkable kisser; tongue flexing right into his mouth, it feels so juvenile, but Hawks flicks that bead against his tongue  and Enji’s brain turns off.

Hawks’ hands go everywhere. His hair, his ears, down the sides of his throat and around the back of his skull. They do pull apart – breathing heavy – and Hawks croaks, “Oh my god-“ and kisses him again. Enji pushes back hard (maybe too hard), but Hawks makes that sound again, and Enji feels dizzy.

The angle is hard on his neck. Enji decides to scoop Hawks up by the waist and set him on the counter. Hawks gasps – laughs only long enough for Enji to step between his legs and kiss him again.

Hawks kisses wet. Tongue rolling over his bottom lip, welcoming Enji when he decides to explore his mouth in return. It feels dirty, but it’s slow. So slow – drawn out and heavy, chasing every second of it.

“You taste...” Hawks pants. “Better than I could have imagined.”

Enji thumbs across Hawks’ lower lip. It’s red now, sticky and soft and supple for Enji. The words just bubble out of his mouth.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Fuck,” Hawks curses, and nearly claws off the back of his neck trying to kiss him again. Enji has half a mind to complain about the manhandling, but it’s undeniably hot, especially when Hawks clacks that bead against his teeth and breathes out through his nose.

It gets to be too much. Hawks’ thighs spread obscenely wide to fit him. The small, growing wings thumping against his kitchen counter. The goosebumps that raise on Hawks’ skin as Enji grips along his hip and squeezes.

Enji feels his body rising in temperature, and Hawks moans as it gets hotter, and Enji pulls back to puff out steam through his mouth.

“That is such a turn on you don’t even know,” Hawks says. He holds Enji by the chin and watches intently as Enji breathes out one more time. “Is it to regulate heat?”

“I’ve never had an issue with it,” Enji admits. Hawks traces his cheeks with the backs of his fingers, so his skin must’ve cooled down enough. Enji turns back towards him. “You do this to me.”

“It’s really hot,” Hawks says. “Will you keep kissing me?”

Enji leans back in again. This one is smoother, less tongue and more sensual. Nobody has ever touched him the way Hawks does. Especially here; a hand feeling over his shoulders, down his arms, back up to his neck.

The kiss breaks, and Hawks tips his head to kiss along the nape of his neck. Not to bite – but a long kiss. Enji squeezes into his hip.

“I just wanna’ touch you. You’re so gorgeous I can’t even handle it.”

This is too much.

“Hold onto me,” Enji tells.

“Why? Oh don’t tell me you’re gonna – oh hell yeah!” Hawks beams as Enji picks him up by the butt and carries him down the hall. Wings flapping happily, Hawks kisses higher along his neck. “You make it look so easy. Do I even weigh anything to you?”


Hawks keeps squirming, distracting him as he sucks along his jaw and licks beneath his ear. Enji nearly drops him it makes Enji so hard – so he shifts his grip and flings Hawks over his shoulder.

“Ow! Hey, that’s not very – oh hello.” Hawks squirms further down his shoulder, reaching for his butt. Enji huffs.

“You are impossible.”

“S’ my middle name. And you have a great ass, so don’t blame me.”

Enji tosses him onto the bed. Without Hawks’ wings at their largest, he doesn’t have to worry about bending one awkwardly. Hawks flops back easy, and grins up as he rolls to his knees and pulls Enji down with him.

Enji lets Hawks climb on top. He sprawls over him, climbs into Enji’s lap and braces his head in his hands, kissing him again.

It’s easy to fall back into. There’s no hurry, no scramble or anger in his heart. It’s – loving. Enji feels like his head might pop off, but that word fits it best.

He breathes out through his nose and just sinks into it. Opens his mouth and pets past Hawks’ tongue. Grips along his waist and smooths beneath that black button-down. The shirt folds around his wrists, and Enji is granted access to all kinds of warm, toned skin.

Now that they’ve started kissing, its almost like they can’t stop. Everything about it is so new and familiar at the same time. Enji pets along Hawks’ feathers, and he moans airily.

“Feels good,” Hawks tells him. He kisses his cheek. His forehead. Enji huffs at him, and Hawks laughs. Licking across his nose, Hawks mulls. “Endeavor the boyfriend. Sounds too good to be true. Will you hide me away like your own little pet? Or will you hold my hand on television?”

Enji swallows. He fights against the alarm in his throat.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

Hawks frowns. He traces his scar, eyes turned dark.

“I don’t want that. I want to move at a pace we’re both comfortable with. I want you to talk to me.”

It’s harder than it seems. Enji tucks one of Hawks’ bangs behind his ear and says,

“How considerate.”

Hawks smiles, face lighting up once more, and he sits back on his knees.

“But I’ll tell you what I want right now -- these stupid pants off. A stone wash denim, Endeavor? Really? It’s like you want me to come in my pants.”

Enji huffs a laugh through his nose and sits back to let Hawks tear the belt from his jeans.

“Call me Enji. You’ve had no hesitations doing so when you’re angry.”

Hawks laughs, popping his button with one hand and pushing up Enji’s shirt to his armpits.

“Oh, you remembered that.” Hawks leans down and presses his tongue to Enji’s navel. That tongue ring slides up his abs and between his pecs. He bites down once and sucks on his nipple, and Enji grunts. Hawks purrs, “My bad, Enji.

He grips onto Hawks’ thigh. His hand is big enough to squeeze it entirely. Hawks sits up and runs his hands along Enji’s torso, nails scraping down and giving him goosebumps. Hawks looks down at him, and the hungry stare reflects his own.

 “Do you have lube? I’m not prepped, sorry.”

“Drawer,” Enji says. Hawks reaches over and rummages through. The bottle is mostly full and probably a shy too old, but it’ll do. Enji stop Hawks by the wrist when he goes to pop the cap. “I’ll do it.”

Hawks gapes down at him.

“You – you don’t have to.”

Enji pets up his thigh.

“Show me what you like.”

Hawks moans lightly and rolls onto his back. He’s kicking off his jeans before Enji can sit up on his knees. Enij slicks his fingers, Hawks tosses his underwear, and Enji’s brain takes a moment to reboot, despite seeing him naked dozens of times.

It can’t be too hard. Enji spreads Hawks’ thighs and pets up his inner knee with his free hand. Enji hums, and tries for a scornful tone.

“Too pretty for your own good.”

“Take a look in the mirror,” Hawks says. He finds a pillow for his back, and continues, “Shouldn’t take too long, just go slow and holy shit-“ Hawks seizes as Enji slides in his middle finger. It goes up to the knuckle way easier than he was expecting, and Hawks’ eyes nearly bug out of his head. “Your fingers are way bigger than mine. Wait wait wait –“ Hawks gasps as Enji tries to pull out. “Gimmie a second.”

“Sorry.” Enji pets along his stomach. His hand rises and falls with Hawks’ breathing.

Hawks gives him the okay to start moving, so he fingers him slowly, watching Hawks’ face show an array of emotions. Enji adds a second finger curiously, and Hawks groans into his fist.

“Fast learner you.”

“Didn’t think I was paying any attention,” Enji accuses. Hawks snorts, and Enji builds a rhythm, and is fascinated by the way his cock jumps against his stomach.

Enji is well acquainted with Hawks’ body, so he aims for his prostate – and Hawks’ spine arches up off the bed, hands slapping the sheets.

“Fuck! Don’t – stop stop stop – don’t, please,” Hawks pants. Enji stops, and Hawks explains, meeting his eye. “I don’t – not yet. I just wanna’ feel you, okay?”

Ouch. Shot through the heart.

“Whatever,” Enji says, and pets along his hip as he spreads his fingers and pushes them back in.

He’s always mesmerized by how easily Hawks takes him in. Hawks is watching his face intently, but Enji can only stare at his body. There’s scars littered here and there – but it’s still so smooth and soft, Enji pushes his leg up and mouths into his thigh.

A third finger, and Hawks is babbling.

“I’m good, I’m good. Jeez your fingers are long. Can I ride you?”

Enji brands his mouth into Hawks’ hip flexor for good measure and asks, “I don’t know, can you?”

“God I’m such a terrible influence. Sit up against the headboard.”

Enji thinks he would do whatever Hawks asked of him, right now. Enji will feel shame later, but he has no regrets as he removes the last of his clothes and sits up against the pillows, Hawks climbing  right over him.

It’s art, Enji thinks. Real art, the way Hawks’ wings twitch at his back, his body confidently rising up, rolling a condom down Enji’s cock and sinking down right after it, inch after inch until thighs meet thighs – Enji clutches Hawks by the waist, and Hawks digs into his shoulders and moans through his teeth.

It’s easy to kiss him again. Hawks curls his arms around Enji’s neck and kisses back, noses brushing as Hawks rises up a little, and falls back down.

Enji twitches, his body trained to want fast – immediate satisfaction – but this is new, and he likes this, so Enji lets Hawks set the pace, fingers gathering in the fabric of his shirt.

Hawks licks into his mouth and has decided that rolling his hips is easier, so Enji rides it out with him. He wants more skin – so Enji pops the shirt by the seams, and loses track of the buttons as they bounce off the bed.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Hawks teases. Enji feels down his spine, fingers touching where they’re connected, and Hawks sucks in air through his teeth. His hips roll, and Enji feels the arousal build slowly, rather than a 150-mile sprint off the cliff.

They’re hugging more than they’re fucking. Enji is obsessed with the sound Hawks makes as he sucks on his throat, so he keeps doing it.

“Ill never get over this,” Hawks sighs. “Not as long as I live.”

Hawks is beautiful, and attracts beautiful people to him by nature. Enji doesn’t understand Hawks’ obsession with him, but Enji has become grateful for it.

Hawk’s cock throbs between their bodies. Enji can feel it more than he can see it. He presses his lips to Hawks’ ear, and encourages Hawks with a hand under his thigh.

“Come on – move, baby. I’ll help you.”

Hawk’s chest goes whoosh with a sudden and shaky exhale. He croaks a moan, and lets Enji help him up on his knees. The slide is excruciatingly slow, Hawks rising up and down with effort. Enji holds most of his weight with his hands, and together they build some kind of rhythm.

Hawks tries to kiss him messy, but his lips slip off his mouth and miss along his chin, and Enji finds he likes it. Likes seeing Hawks a mess without having to choke him out for it. The pace builds, and Hawks curses, and Enji wraps a hand around his cock to watch Hawks’ face as he shakes like a man freezing.  

Hawks pulls the orgasm from him. Just tears it like he owns it, starts up a brutal rhythm and wont rest until Enji is groaning into his bare shoulder.




Round in circles, Hawks draws his fingers around Enji’s chest. His head is propped in his free hand, body spread out against Enji’s side, Hawks runs his fingers from the divots of Enji’s stomach to the valley of his collarbones.

It feels nice, so Enji lets him. One eye open, Enji lays on his back and stares at the ceiling, ignoring the fact that his arm is going a little fuzzy from Hawks’ weight.

He’s wearing one of Enji’s t-shirts. Hawks had complained about his shirt – do you know how much it costs to get these custom made – so Enji grabbed a t-shirt out of his drawer, ripped two holes in the back and shoved it in his face. Hawks gleefully put it on, and now he looks like he’s being swallowed up by an old washed out Yuuei dress.

Hawks swirls his fingers down Enji’s stomach. Tracing light circles along his hip, Hawks tips his head to look up at the ceiling. Then the walls, and eventually the door.

“So. Did you grow up in a house like this?”

Enji figured Hawks couldn’t stay quiet for long. He breathes in and out.


“Interesting. Tradition must be pretty important to you.”

“It used to be,” Enji says. He mulls a moment and adds, “It was pounded into me by my father.”

“Ahh,” Hawks taps his sternum. “What was he like?”

“Cruel. I used to think I was a saint for not hitting my kids. But now I think, what I did might’ve been worse.”

Hawks hums.

“I didn’t know my dad. By the time my quirk manifested, I was shipped off to boarding school. They never called, so I never visited. I have no idea where they are.”

Enji turns his head to look at him.

“What would you have been, if not a hero?”

“I don’t know,” Hawks shrugs. “I never got the chance to be anything else.”

 Enji thinks of Shouto and grows tense with guilt.

“I see.”

“Hey,” Hawks pokes him. “You might’ve fucked up your kid, but it’s obvious he has his own goals now. He may not care about becoming Number One, but I know he’s gonna’ be a great hero. Best you can do is not be a dick about it.”

It’s weird to talk about this so casually. But it feels like a knot has loosened in his chest.

“Where do you get off speaking so confidently?”

Hawks shrugs.

“Just cause. I think I would’ve been a hero anyways. Did you know that I wouldn’t be allowed to fly without a license?” Hawks flops over him. “No way. I think certain things happen for a reason.”

Enji slides a hand up the back of his thigh. He squeezes just beneath his butt, and feels Hawks snuggle his way up under his neck. 

“You might be right.”

The drapes blow a little from the open window. It’s late already, so it’s just logical to have Hawks spend the night. Enji tells himself that, anyways. Maybe he won’t feel a need to justify everything one day. Enji sure hopes so.




“I still don’t understand why I have to take the elevator.”

“Will you just humor me this one time?!” Enji snaps, shoving him in by the back. Hawks stumbles, and Enji pressed the close button before anyone else can hitch a ride. Hawks is on him before the doors close, fingers reaching for his beltloops.

“I don’t even know why we’re here. This is supposed to be our off day,” Hawks whines. “I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“The office renovations are done,” Enji explains.

“And that’s your idea of a romantic date?”

“Oh shut up,” Enji huffs, and pushes Hawks back out of the elevator. Hawks is naturally clingy, and doesn’t care much for the passing employees when he wraps an arm around Enji’s waist.

It’s kind of old news anyways. They made it about four months before their relationship got plastered all over the tabloids. Enji had Hawks to thank for that, hopping up on his shoulders and kissing him right in front of a photographer – the whole thing felt a little planned, but it’s not as if they hadn’t been discussing it the night before.

They got lucky; Enji had just told his family three days prior. Via magazine is definitely not the way he’d want his kids to find out. Hawks runs into everything headfirst, but not before planning each and every detail, and that’s something Enji likes about him.

Enji opens the door for him, and Hawks nods.

“Gold handles, very nice, very expensive. I like it –“

They step into his new office. It’s a little larger than before, but only to allocate for the couch sitting across the room. He has a new desk, a new chair – and the biggest difference is the balcony, with big glass doors.

Enji wonders if he’ll have to go through the embarrassment of explaining it. Hawks gapes only a second, before he’s bouncing in the room crying, “No way! This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me – Enji!!!” He turns, throwing open the lock on the door and swinging it open. 

“Here,” Enji says, and tosses a key at him. Hawks catches it one hand, face lighting up as he registers what it is. “No more breaking and entering.”

“I’m gonna’ cry.”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh we’re going to fuck so much on this balcony,” Hawks says. Enji rubs his forehead with a sigh, but allows Hawks to slide up and grab him by the tie. “You do have a romantic side.”

Enji hums doubtingly, and leans down the rest of the way to peck his mouth.

“Alright, where are we going?”

“Oh!! Only to the best fish-taco joint in town.”





Hawks has filled his apartment with more things. He replaced the T.V., put up some shelves, pinned fanart to the walls and hung photographs. Enji bought him a corkboard, but Hawks filled it up already, and has moved onto the tops of his kitchen cabinets.

He’s started to go out with more of his friends again, which secretly, Enji is grateful for. Hawks is a social creature, and it’s good for him to be with his own kind.

But Enji quietly enjoys that Hawks invites him over anyways. Jeanist, Rumi and a handful of other heroes are on Hawks’s couch taking shots, and Enji leans up against the kitchen island, watching Hawks try to put in his new earrings through the reflection of the fridge.

“I love them I love them I love them,” Hawks chants. “Oh my god, they’re feathers. Where did you find these?”

“Somewhere,” Enji says vaguely.

“Happy birthday to me,” Hawks sings. “Thanks daddy.”

Enji rolls his eyes back into his head, and Rumi chokes laughing on the couch.

Hawks is always good at picking out random presents for Enji, so he’s secretly glad that he did okay. Hawks still refuses to take off the watch he bought him, so there’s that.

Enji watches his feathers puff happily, and Enji slides a hand along his waist and prods Hawks to turn around.


“Yesss,” Hawks purrs, and jumps up to peck him.

“Hawks, we’re doing tequila! Endeavor, get over here and be fun.”

Hawks slips out of his grip, sliding over the kitchen island and jumping over the couch. Enji walks around it like a normal person.




 There wasn’t any rain in the forecast for today, but when it starts to pour in droves, Enji still refuses to back down. He’s outnumbered five to one, but what else is new these days.

“Give up, Flame Hero,” a villain laughs. “Your quirk is useless.”

“Quirk or not, I’ll beat your ass with one hand behind my back,” Enji snaps.

A cat villain makes the first move; Enji flips her over his shoulder and slams her into the ground. The rest of the gang begins to attack, and feathers rain out of the sky like throwing knives.

They shout at they’re pinned to the ground; stabbed through nonvital areas, like their hands, arms and feet.

Enji straightens, and feels the rain distort around him as Hawks lands on his shoulder.

“I had that,” Enji growls.

“Sure you did,” Hawks sings. “Hulk Hogan over there has a quirk that melts your skin when you touch him. Did you know that?”

“Would’ve figured it out,” Enji mutters.

They’ve learned to work together through trial and error; Hawks fireproofing the bottom of his boots, and Enji padding out his shoulders to decrease the landing bruises. But they make a good team, and Enji trusts Hawks to watch his back more than anyone else out there.

One of the criminals yanks out the feather from his bleeding arm and takes off running down the block. He has a speed quirk, and all that’s left of him is a spray from the rain.

“I got ‘em,” Hawks says, and takes off just as fast.

Enji notices a man raise his hand towards the sky, arm silently shifting into the shell of a homing missile, and Enji grabs him by the back of the head and cracks his nose in the wet pavement.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”




It’s that ugly hour of the night, where the moon hasn’t come out yet, but it’s still too late to be working any decent shift.

Shouto’s second sports festival is this week, and Enji knows he won’t get a lick of paperwork done, so it’s better just to knock it out of the way while he’s still thinking about it.

It’s one of those days that leave him agitated at everything without reason. Villains that waste his time with pointless rambles, traffic on the northbound, the elevator takes too long, this suit is so uncomfortable Enji has no idea why he bought it in the first place –

Hawks is curled up on his couch, preening each feather one by one. He looks up as Enji enters the office, and snickers.

“Look who it is. Do I know you like the back of my hand or what?”

“Were you waiting for me?”

“I had a hunch you’d stop by tonight.”

“I don’t have time to fuck around,” Enji scowls. “My report stack is taller than you.”

“Wow a height jab, someone is crank-ee,” Hawks smiles.

Enji is definitely not in the mood, so he sits at his desk and starts on the classified file in the lockbox of his drawer.

Hawks knows to stay quiet. He’s still preening each feather, slicking up his fingers and running them along his secondaries. It’s something Hawks wouldn’t do around him for a long time – had some idea that it was weird, like they don’t see weird shit every day.

Enji tries not to look up at him, because he knows he is weak when it comes to Hawks. He’s an easy distraction, and Enji doesn’t want to be up any later than he has to.

Thirty minutes into his work, Hawks stands and walks towards the balcony. Enji expects him to fly away, but Hawks just walks up to the railing and stands.

Enji works ten more minutes, before he breathes out a sigh. Enji sets down his pen and scruffs through his hair, looking up at Hawks’ figure on the balcony.

The door is slightly ajar, blowing the white curtain back and forth. Enji feels a tiny (miniscule) shred of guilt, knowing that Hawks is likely just as tired as he, and came here to see him anyways.

They haven’t spent any time together as of late. Enji hasn’t thought much of it, but it’s likely the cause of his foul mood.

Enji puffs steam and rubs his eyes.


The door doesn’t creak as he opens it, but he knows Hawks can hear his footsteps. He stands behind him on the balcony, pressing his hands to his waist, and watching Hawks droop his wings so Enji can press closer.


Hawks purrs, “Hello.”

All the high-rises are lit up already. You can see the red and white glow of cars below, neon restaurant signs and flickering alley lights.

“Where have you been?” Enji asks. Tonight, this week, in general. 

“All over Japan, literally. I swear the government uses me as a carrier pigeon.”

Enji brings his hands to the upper curve of his wings, and smooths them down to the tips. They’re incredibly soft, it’s strange to think they can harden enough to kill. Enji straightens a stray feather for him.

“You need to learn to tell them no.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Hawks laughs. “They never ask shit from you.”

“Not true,” Enji says, and Hawks turns around in his arms. He backs up so his wings are overhanging the railing, and stretches his arms to loop around Enji’s neck.

“What’s got you so grouchy today?”

“Do you want a list?”

Hawks snorts, “Hit me with it. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Enji decides that he’d rather kiss Hawks than talk about his shitty day, so he does. Hawks makes a surprised noise, but sinks right into it, leaning up on his toes to ease the strain on Enji’s neck.

Enji will never tire of the way Hawks melts into him. A body full of honed skill and power, turning to jelly in an instant.

The kiss breaks, and Hawks pulls back to look at him. He reaches up and smooths his palm over Enji’s cheek – and whatever, nobody can see them anyways – Enji leans into his touch.

“Can I ask you a question?” Hawks asks.

“You already did.”

“Stop stealing my material,” Hawks huffs, patting his cheek in a mock slap.

Enji cups his neck and smiles down at him.

“Ask your question.”

“I just – need to know.” Hawks breathes in and out, and oh, this is serious. “For – for my own sake.”

“Okay,” Enji nods.

Hawks chews on his lip, and looks at Enji with all the stars in his eyes. With all the vulnerability that no one else gets to see.

“Do you think you could learn to love me?”

It’s a question that hits him straight in the chest. Enji blinks down at him, but Hawks doesn’t back away. He stands his ground, plants his feet and stares up and Enji with his whole heart. Scruffy facial hair, feather earrings and big brown eyes – he makes Enji’s heart hurt. For so long, he didn’t think he had one.

Enji drags his thumb along Hawks’ neck. He thinks of all the roads that led them here, and all the places they’re going. It’s surprisingly easy to say,