Chapter Text
Most people knew that animals were in tune with the changing seasons: migrations, sensing weather patterns, and the likes. Sometimes, that extended to people with animal-like mutations, too. For some, that meant being able to feel approaching rain. For others, that meant bodily changes in relation to the weather.
Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, when cool air swept over and the trees began to turn gold and orange, and then again in early spring, when the snow began to melt, and the sun shined bright in midday, warming the air.
He owned a cabin in the north, secluded up on a hillside in the woods, where he would honker down for the week-long occurrence. It was much more tolerable alone, far from society, where his sensitive feathers could only pick up the sounds of his abode and the wildlife outside.
The cabin smelt like amber and pine trees. He always kept the fireplace stoked. The crackling created a soothing ambiance and it gave him a worthwhile distraction. As opposed to a traditional heater, the fireplace gave him something to focus on: something to worry over so he couldn't drown in his own thoughts.
Without fail, he would go to bed at the kiss of darkness, usually in a mess of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace, on his front with his wings stretched out beside him. Then, he'd wake in the early morning hours and watch the sunrise as if he had never seen it once in his life.
As poetic as it all sounded, it was more so for the sake of soothing his urges than anything else, to calm the animal side of his brain that was irritated at the very obvious thing missing from this.
But, at the same time, Hawks enjoyed it, in some ways. As stressful as a rut was, there was something soothing about the experiences. For a week, he could let go of everything.
In this cabin, he wasn't pro hero Hawks, winged hero, number 2, or anything like that. In this cabin, he was just Takami Keigo, even less than that at times. When lost to his senses, barely processing a proper thought beyond the warmth of the fire and the smell of the trees, he was just a man.
That time was approaching.
He could feel it, prickling at the base of his wings. His teeth were aching subtly with the desire to bite. Every little sound was setting him on edge. He heard your voice down the hall and it made him flinch with a sort of excitement, as if he hadn't heard you in weeks, when it had only been a day.
He already had an acute sense of smell as it was; but, it was intensified during this time. One of the trainees had burnt coffee and it nearly made him throw up. One of the sidekicks was wearing an ordinary cologne that never bothered him before; but, that morning, when he walked by, the smell made him want to punch them.
When he became irritable like that, was when he knew, especially, that time was dwindling and he needed to leave before it apexed.
"I'm heading out in a couple days," Hawks explained hastily when you stepped into his office. "I'll be gone for a week."
His harsh tone made it sound as if you were intruding on him, and he could tell that you noticed because you halted in the doorway. You were, actually, intruding. He had paperwork he needed to get done before he left. But, that wasn't the only reason.
Your presence swarmed him with thoughts; mainly, that he could bring you with him, show you the cabin. Would you like it? Of course, Hawks knew it was a natural desire to have, considering his physiological changes; but, still, the intensity of that desire was nauseating.
"Oh," you blurted, feeling nervous in his heated gaze. You weren't new to that hypnotizing, gold stare; but, it seemed a little different than usual, more intense.
"Uhm. Okay," you continued. "Was it a mission? I didn't see any briefing?"
Hawks blinked and the heated expression dissipated as if you had slapped it off him.
"No," he replied softly. "No," he added on, a little more sincerely. "I'm... going up north for a week."
He wanted to lie to you; really, any sort of bullshit would have sufficed. You had stumbled into this relationship knowing that he couldn't always give you everything, including the truth. But, for some reason, the truth felt right in this moment.
"That's good," you replied, stepping into his office to set some papers on the corner of his desk, adding more to the already impressive pile.
"You could use a vacation," you added on, stepping back, away from his desk.
It was in his nature to be perceptive, both in the way his quirk operated and by the man he chose to be: a hero, a spy, an assassin. Yet, his eyes were watching you with a sort of intensity that felt fiercer than it normally was.
Your sincerity was what bothered him. It would have been easier to blow you off if you were irritated by his secrecy. However, you, who knew better than anyone, what he endured day in and day out, was just happy that he was getting a break from it all: from being a hero.
Most heroes had a life to go home to, a family, a place where they could take off the cape for a little while. Most of the time, Hawks didn't.
He had found some solace in you. You gave him the breaks he so desperately needed; but, it was never long enough, barely a night, before the visor went back on. It wasn't fair to you, a fellow hero, to be expected to carry such a burden; yet, you seemed happy at the thought of making him feel ease, if only for a little while.
"I'm sorry," Hawks apologized.
The startled look on your face told him what you were thinking: that there was nothing to apologize for.
You didn't know about this side of him, this aspect of his mutation. That behavior sometimes seeped through. He'd get a little possessive, touchy, mouthy; but, you passed them off as just kinks. Maybe, they were kinks, and he was just making excuses for himself.
"It's something I gotta take care," he explained, as if he was rejecting something you hadn't even asked.
"Ok?" you replied softly. "Whatever you need to do, Hawks?"
He smiled one of the most pathetic smiles you had ever seen.
"Is something wrong?" you asked, tilting your head a little, looking down at him, across his desk, to where he sat opposite to where you were standing.
"You don't have to tell me," you continued. "But, you never have to do anything alone, you know?"
"Ugh-" Hawks laughed nervously. "This, I think I do."
You stared back at him with a gentle gaze; yet, he could easily catch the bit of attitude in your eyes, like you wanted to call him out, but was holding back.
Yeah, he knew. He fucking knew. You had been there through some of the hardest battles, dragged him out of burning buildings, took bullets for him.
Your first kiss was in a hospital room.
His broken arm was slung up in a cast and poking painfully into your chest, and the bandages on your neck were itching at his skin. Still, neither complained. Not when you finally, finally had each other. Not when the truth came pouring out and almost a damn year of tension boiled over.
Barely a week had passed since that moment. You didn't give your broken bodies enough time to heal before crawling into bed together. He had made love to you, so softly, with gentle words and careful touches, before flipping you over and ramming you until you saw God, wings flapping and breaking things all over the room.
"It's not a mission, or any hero business," Hawks answered, scratching at his neck nervously.
Now, you were really concerned. 'Hawks' and 'nervous' were not usually uttered in the same sentence. He knew he shouldn't tell you; but, fuck it, he wanted to. It was especially difficult when you were looking at him like that, like you would do anything for him.
"Okay?" you uttered, as if ushering him to continue.
"It's... biological," he answered carefully.
Seemingly catching an unspoken queue, you closed the door to his office and leaned against it, staring at him with a calm, inquisitive gaze.
"My... mutation-" he began, breaking off in a groan.
He leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand across his face. That nervous look etched across his handsome face, was something of a spectacle, and you had to bite back a smile.
"I go into a rut twice a year," he explained hoarsely. "It's more tolerable somewhere secluded; so, I got a place up north where I tough it out."
Some feral, sick part of his brain wanted you to stupidly ask him what that was, so he could explain the insatiable desire to take you like there was no tomorrow. But, of course, you knew better than that, blinked slowly, and leaned back, a thoughtful look on your face.
"You do that alone every year?" you inquired.
"Huh?" Hawks blurted, not expecting that to be your concern.
"Is it better that way?" added on softly.
Hawks stared back at you with a stupid look on his face, eyes wide and lips parted, unblinking with the faintest tinge of pink coloring the tops of his ears.
Fuck no, it's not. He would love to have you there, to show you the home he's made over the years, to snuggle with you in front of the fireplace, to make you breakfast, to bend you over every god damned surface-
"Probably," he answered.
"Hawks," you scolded him gently.
He laughed quietly and adjusted his posture, trying to sit upright instead of slouching back in his chair. He ended up settling for placing his elbows on his desk.
"It's fine," he said reassuringly, waving his hand around. "It's like a posh camping trip."
"A high-strung posh camping trip," you corrected him softly.
Hawks stared back at you silently, as if he was mad that you saw through him so easily. 'High-strung' was a nice way of putting it. His ruts made him mean, irritable to an irrational degree, carelessly crude, and shamelessly possessive.
"Do you want..." you trailed off.
For all Hawks knew, you were going to say something completely different than what he was thinking; but, the mere thought of what you could offer had him at the edge of his seat.
"Would you want me there?" you asked.
Yes. Holy fucking shit, yes.
But, that wasn't what came out of his mouth.
"It's probably not a good idea," he protested softly.
You frowned at him, tilting your head a little, and tightened your arms where they were crossed over your front: a silent gesture telling him that you expected an explanation.
"I don't wanna hurt you," he explained, his normally calm and suave voice lowered. It was clear that this wasn't just caution or worry; this was a warning.
"How would you hurt me?" you dared to ask, voice soft, more so trying to soothe his worries than agitate the beast.
Hawks let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know," he breathed. He looked away, and you watched him drag a hand through his hair, pushing wispy blonde bangs out of his face.
"I get really... worked up," Hawks continued, his warning tone still present. "Pissed off and horny and-... shit. Not like normal. I don't think right: it's consuming."
When he turned back to you, and saw that you still looked relaxed, eager to listen, to understand, Hawks' tense shoulders relaxed a little.
"I don't know what I would do to you, and that scares me," he warned in a low, harsh whisper. "The only thing I know is that, if you come with me, after you enter that cabin, I won't let you leave."
"Okay," you uttered back.
"What?" Hawks gawked. "Fucking hell - you realize what I just said, right?" he asked, clearly irritated at your casual response.
"Of course I do," you retorted sharply, snapping at him a little.
He released a sharp exhale through clenched teeth. "I don't think you fucking do," he growled. "I won't let you leave. I'll take you whenever I want. That's - you know what that is."
The word felt so heavy in his mouth, weighing down on his tongue, like he wanted to spit it out. It tasted awful, and it made him feel sick to his stomach.
You, surprisingly, glared at him like he had just insulted you. Maybe he had, in some way. Hawks rarely ever underestimated you; but, this wasn't a battle or heroism. This was raw, animal nature, him and you reduced to instincts.
Through his perspective, it was challenging his humanity, his love for you. But, through your perspective, it was an aspect of his nature, of something he was born with, that he couldn't stop or change; and you wanted to guide him through it, to be there when he needed you, regardless of the feral implications of it all.
"It's not rape if I want you, too," you snarled at him.
The glare he was wearing dissipated in an instant. Hawks gawked at you, stunned at the bold proclamation, his hands slipping limply off the edge of the desk and onto his lap. You watched his wings shutter faintly behind him before relaxing against his back, as if they were resisting the urge to fan out.
"You don't have to do it alone," you began softly.
"You don't-"
"Let me finish," you interrupted him gently.
Hawks obeyed, smacking his mouth shut. You doubted you would ever forget the expression he was wearing in that moment, gold eyes bright and shiny, staring at you almost in disbelief, with some awe and admiration.
"I know I don't have to," you continued. "I'm not offering out of some kind of obligation. I want to - to go through this with you. Hawks, I - I want to get to know this side of you, too."
He was, as you had come to know, a man of many faces. There was the silly, cocky hero he showed the masses, and the calculating, cold assassin he showed villains.
Those few who got close, heroes he trusted, knew he was kind and selfless, always willing to take the front lines, to risk it all. Behind closed doors, you knew he was charming and equally demanding as he was giving.
"If it's what you want, Hawks?" you added on softly.
Hawks blinked slowly. "Yeah," he exhaled heavily, like he had been holding his breath. "Fuck, I do. But, if I hurt you..." He trailed off, leaving the words unspoken, though the implication was obvious enough.
You fumbled nervously against the door, not because you were afraid of what he might do, but because you were surprised by your own emotions, by your lack of worry.
Maybe, it was just unwavering trust for the man who had been by your side for so long. Or, maybe, Hawks had managed to unlock some feral desires inside you that you never knew existed before him.
"Few months back, when you left so suddenly, it was for this, wasn't it? We were together then, but you didn't tell me," you uttered.
Hawks nodded, silently answering your question. It had come on so suddenly that he had no choice but to make a quick getaway, and let the planning fall on the wayside.
He at least made the time to tell you, albeit over a quick phone call, that he would be gone for a week and not to worry. You hadn't pressed him, figuring it was a sudden, unexpected mission.
"When you're in your rut, I - well, what am I to you?" you asked.
Shamelessly, Hawks recalled that he had thought of you, even before you came together. The beautiful woman whom he trusted with every fiber of his being, sometimes his sidekick, always his fellow hero, someone who had been there for him.
"My... mate," he answered quietly, as if he didn't want you to hear him.
Mate... not as eloquent as a lover and with a feral and obvious implication. Maybe, that should have been degrading, disgusting, being reduced to such a thing. But, it felt strangely tantalizing. As lewd as it might have sounded, mates were still equals, partners in love and war.
"You know..." you began, pausing briefly as you approached Hawks' desk.
His gold eyes followed you closely, looking up at you with a sort of softness that didn't quite fit with the conversation. But, if you were being honest with yourself, you liked it that way.
"-partner, lover, friend... You called me your 'personal pain in the ass' once," you said, laughing softly. "I... want to be your mate, too, Keigo."
You were careful about when and where you said his name: it was a sacred secret, something he trusted you with so dearly, so cautiously. But, sometimes, he really needed to hear it, especially when you needed him to know you were serious.
"-if you'll have me?" you added on quietly.
Rather suddenly, one of Hawks' feathers zipped across the room, wrapped around the door handle and flung it open.
You were so distracted by that flying plume that you almost didn't notice Hawks reach for the pile of papers, grab a few off the stack, and angle them at you.
Someone stepped into his office: one of the lawyers, by the look of their expensive suit. As they did, Hawks pulled the papers back and offered you a soft smile as he set them on the pile.
"Thanks. Is this all of them?" he asked, bright and cheery, a forced voice you were quite familiar with.
Somehow, you managed to catch up to him before you did something stupid. "I think so," you replied, matching his bubbly tone.
"Thanks," he chirped. "Oh, and your time off request has been approved, in case you missed the email?" he added on in a flawlessly professional tone.
You stepped away from his desk and carefully walked around the man, who had completely ignored you and was staring down Hawks like a starving, ravenous animal.
"Thanks, Hawks," you replied sweetly.
"Of course. Have fu-!" he cheered as you stepped out, barely cut off as the lawyer slammed the door as soon as you were out of range.