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Blood and bruises were a hero’s best accessories. They were badges of sacrifice, of how willing someone will risk their life for another. Washu has a sharper wit than what most would expect. He knows all the little things pros tried to hide. Miruko is scared of thunder. Ryuku hates celery. Edgeshot has every figure of Kakashi from Naruto. Endeavour has a sweet tooth. All Might’s guilty pleasure is housewife dramas. Best Jeanist has a whole notebook of Jeans fashion and will probably release by this Spring. And the most surprising fact of all is how sincere Hawks is.
He always arrives late to meetings, with new wounds and blood on his face, shrugging it off with a cocky laugh and a shrug. But Washu knew it was feigned. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes told him that much. Even when other pros were exasperated with fans, he still reassured and brightened their anxious spirits. And if you’ve seen Hawks really smile, not the ones on those glossed magazine covers or those huge billboards, but that somewhat restrained, small curling of his thin lips- you’ll see the sincerity, the utter compassion he harbours in his soul.
If you ask how Washu knows all this, it’s because he’s observant. He had no choice to be really. Everyone at school would bully him. He didn’t have that many friends either. And to make sense of why no one interacted with him, Washu would stare at others and try to understand their motives. Of course he tried to fit in...But it was difficult when he had a limited vocabulary.
That isn’t important right now though because Hawks is hurt. He lies on the gravel building, blood dripping down his forehead. His arm is outstretched on the ground, as if calling for help. And it strikes Washu how truly small Hawks is. He’s shorter than some UA kids. If he shaved off his stubble and dressed in their uniform, he could have perfectly blended in. Sometimes it aches Washu’s core that people, barely hatchlings, like Hawks, still have to risk their lives for others.
Washu carried him back to his apartment.It wasn’t too far from here and his injuries weren’t too severe so he doesn’t need an ambulance. The first aid kit Washu had at home was enough.
Oh my. Hawks was light. He barely weighed a feather. The young man certainly needed some meat on his bones. It still amazed him how much Hawks ate. He ate and ate and ate. Washu didn’t know much about human food or nutrition (his diet is primarily soap and water), but judging from the other pros' reactions, he knows Hawks eats more than an average human. Perhaps it’s part of him being a bird? That’s what Kamui Woods said at least. But Kamui is terribly terrified of Hawks for some odd reason.
Washu didn’t have much human food at his apartment, but he can always buy some. He knew of Hawks’ favorite takeout place. Whenever a meeting extended for far too long at Hawks’ agency, he would always order from there. If he wakes up, Washu can always call for some food from there.
Finally they reached Washu’s apartment, the moonlight gleaming down on them. It wasn’t anything special. His apartment only had simple furnishings of a standard Japanese home. It may have been on the small side, but it was quaint and Washu was attached to it. Anyways he didn’t need a penthouse even if he had the salary to afford one.
He placed Hawks on the bed and started to treat his wounds, using the first aid kit from the hall. All his healing bubbles were used for the day so only the old-fashioned tending and mending is possible now. Washu likes it. He loves delicately dabbing scrapes and cuts, and wrapping them in clean, white bandages. There was something satisfying even to the whole thing. Countless pros and civilians came and were mending by his surprisingly skilled hands. This was Hawks’ first time here. He took off his jacket and filthy, torn uniform, and replaced it with a plain white shirt he kept for emergencies like these. He had seen plenty of pros and civilians buck- naked during desperate times and he never felt...so weirdly warm.
He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help it. His cheeks were flushed and seemed soft the only way flesh can be. Hawks was so slight, it hung from his frame, revealing his tantalizing collarbone.
Why were Washu’s gears twisting and turning so strangely? Is he malfunctioning? Yes perhaps that. The battle was quite straining after all.
Finally he cleaned and was done tending to Hawks’ injuries. He placed him on his bed. His small chest pattered up and down, like the undulating movements of a wind vane. Washu found it strangely...entrancing. In general, Wshu was fascinated with how the human body worked. It bled when it was cute, water rolled down during intense exercise, and the chest went up and down with every inhale and exhale. His eyes were closed, the black linings somewhat tempting to trace, but Washu controlled himself and withdrew his hand.
Why was he acting like this towards his colleague? What was this feeling?
He freshened up in the bathroom before he dwelled on this warm sensation rising in his core. Whatever it is, it should be forgotten. His intuition told him such. He flopped on the couch with his blue fuzzy bunny slippers with carrot pom-poms (a gift from Miruko) and switched on the tv to his favourite midnight trivia game show . The handsome game-show host with slick back hair read out the questions in the orange lit room as Washu gulped down a cup of detergent.
Detergent was amazing. It’s a pity humans can’t have it unless they want to die. Washu can’t consume human food, unfortunately, or he would die. There was one time he did in school, and he landed in the emergency room. Honestly it’s a miracle that he’s alive now.
Just like Principal Nezu, he wasn’t born human. His mom owned a laundry place, had miscarried when her hero husband had died. She craved having a baby so much Washu was born. He was a wanted child and even though he wasn't human, she loved him just like one. Washu loved his mom a lot.
Missing his mom, Washu calls her and listens to her talk about her day, before using Hero dash, an online food delivery app that didn't require speech. He picked Hawks favorite restaurant. Hawks liked chicken right? Washu chose a few chicken dishes which he had seen Hawks eat before.
He hears Hawks stir in his bed, the cotton sheets rustling as he shifted in bed. Washu headed to Hawks moving form. The injured pro hero blinked awake and slowly sat up. He surveyed his surroundings, groaning as he gained awareness. Again there was that warmth again invading his core and spreading his appendages. Short-circuiting. He was short-circuiting again.
"That villain did a real number on is huh?" Hawks grunted as his new bandages scratched his skin," Well at least he's behind bars now."
Washu just nodded as Hawks stretched his arms over his head with all the languish of a house cat.
"Thanks for taking care of me, Washu," Hawks shakes his hand, " I'll head on out."
He gets on his feet, but Washu stops him with a palm on his chest.
" You need rest." Washu says with difficulty.
He can speak sure, but it took effort for him to form the words. Intense effort.
Hawks just laughs, " That's sweet of you, but what will I do here? Play scrabble?"
Oh so he wanted to play Scrabble. Washu took out the scrabble board from under the bed and switched on the lights. He laid out the board as Hawks just chuckled.
" I didn't mean that literally, but one game can't hurt," Hawks looked at the board, "Um how do you play this?"
Washu explained to him the rules and they spent the hour forming words on the worn yellow board. Washu had an impressive vocabulary. He read a lot when he was younger. Hawks was doing pretty great too. They were dead silent. Hawks eyes scrunched in concentration as hand covering mouth as he thought over his next move. Again there was that seriousness he so desperately concealed during the day.
Hawks hand was moving for a piece and Washu's hand touched his for a millisecond. Barely a second. And electricity seemed to pass between the two.
Okay now Washu was really short-circuiting.
Their eyes met and if Washu had a heart it would have pounded then and there.
Then the doorbell rang and broke the spell.
Washu dashed to the door and tipped the delivery guy before laying out the white chicken containers.
Hawks comes out, his eyes lighting up when he sees the dishes.
"Aaaw ! You shouldn't have Washu," Hawks helps him pour washing power onto Washu's plate," Thanks!"
A genuine smile stretches across his face as he sits down.
"I'll treat you to some soap stuff next time we meet, " Hawks snaps his disposable chopsticks."
He gobbles his chicken, his cheeks puffing pleasantly with closed eyes as he enjoys his food. It fills with him immense bliss as he swallows his white and blue powder. Then it all clicks. His mom's words echo in his ears:
Washu, honey, love is being happy just by watching your loved one enjoy their food.
He loved Hawks...And he didn't know how to handle that. But all he knows is that he loves this warm feeling.
Eventually, Hawks finished up and cleaned up the dishes. He carried his torn outfit under his shoulder and waved back at him. Before he could leave, Washu grabbed his wrist. He doesn't want
" Goodnight Hawks...Come again." Washu asks.
Hawks smiles at that. Genuine this time too.
" Alright and next time, I'll win, alright."
He flew off into the night. Sure he might have returned home, but he still perched in ?Washu's core.