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It was love at first sight.
Now Hawks wasn't a man that usually believed in such fantastical perceptions of romance, the idea of soulmates or falling in love at first meeting was as unreal as heroes had once been to him until he too had been saved by a hero.
Which was why it shouldn't surprise him that it was a hero that made him experience such fantasy for himself.
He has been on patrol at the time. It had been a dull one, the only villains terrorizing his turf were inexperienced thugs and thieves hoping to make a quick buck off either selling their services or selling the items they had pilfered from the unsuspecting pockets of Fukuoka's civilians and they were too easy to deal with. As such Hawks had spent most his patrol scrolling social media as he flew over the city, taking selfies of himself and putting them on twitter for his followers to post creepy thirst comments before logging onto his Tumblr and making thirst posts about Endeavor (his newest costume hugged that ass of his perfectly and many, many people agreed with him).
And that was when it happened.
The villain appeared out of nowhere, rising from the earth like nature's wrath itself in all their muddy galore. It tore through the tarmac of the roads like a geyser, spewing dark and gloopy mud everywhere and covering everyone in the vicinity in the earthy substance. Hawks, who has been flying by, hadn't been quick enough to avoid the explosion of mud much to his displeasure and could only act quick enough to ground himself on the nearest high rise building before he spiralled out of the air and crashed to the muddy river currently claiming the streets of Fukuoka below. He grimaced as he looked down at himself, annoyed that his beige coat and pants were now a much more unappealing brown colour.
"At least it's actually mud," he grumbled after giving his sleeve a cautious sniff.
He couldn't handle another poop scandal going round after some two-bit paparazzi with a blobfish quirk caught him at an unfortunate time and had managed to snap a couple of pictures (Hawks outer beige pants had been dragged down by a very persistent villain and Hawks had taken refuge on top of a van while he tried to sort them out, sadly from behind his position looked much too close to a squat and with his ass hovering over the glass of the van and Hawks quirk being that of a bird, the photographer had drawn up some... unfortunate conclusions).
The villain was rampaging below, encasing buildings and citizens alike in a muddy flood and Hawks immediately snapped to attention. With a harsh flap of his wings, the mud that had still been dripping off his feathers flicked away to reveal the ruby red they were renowned for. Immediately his feathers detached from his wings, scooping up everyone they could sense in the mud villains’ path and carrying them away to safety. 14, 36, 53, all evacuated leaving just Hawks and the villain terrorizing the city today.
Now to make sure the villain's attention was solely on him.
"Hey, muddy!" he called out, making his voice project as loudly and sound as mockingly as it could, "If I wanted a mud bath, I would have gone to the spar!"
Not his best taunt however it did its job. The villain turned towards him, or at least Hawks thinks it did, it was hard to tell considering their whole body seemed to be entirely made up of the mud they're determined to use to the streets of Fukuoka brown and Hawks wasn't entirely sure where their eyes were, or if they had eyes to begin with. The mud itself shifted however and Hawks took that as a sign that it had turned his attention towards him.
Admittedly, Hawks didn't have much of a plan after catching the villain's attention.
His quirk really wasn't suited to fighting this type of villain, ones who had no distinguishable or solid body he could attack with his feathers. The most he could do was play distraction and evacuate any innocent civilian that gets caught in the crossfire while he waits for a much more suited hero to arrive on the scene.
He pulled out his phone, silently relieved that the mud shower he had received earlier hadn't damaged his means of communication, and quickly typed up an urgent request for help and sent it to his sidekicks.
Just moments after sending the text, the mud villain revealed that it had indeed focused their attention onto Hawks as they sent a tidal wave of mud in his direction, swallowing the area he had just been perched and encasing it in a thick layer of mud. He hovered in the air for a moment, sharp eyes studying the villain for a sign of any type of weakness that he can use against them.
The villain was constantly shifting shape and form from what he could observe with no main body apparent in the mass of sentient earth, 'Could it be possible that his main body is somewhere else?' he theorised, 'But his attacks are too strong to be controlled from a distance, this is beginning to look like the worst-case scenario...'
"Hey mud blood! I guess you and skeletons have a lot in common and that's why you're so dead set on making a bunch of them," he taunted again, "You guys have no body!"
Apparently, the mud villain didn't like bad puns because that earned Hawks another geyser of mud shooting up at him that he quickly dived out of the way of.
'Hook, line and sinker,' he thought as the villain's attention was now completely on him, whatever quest they had previously been endeavouring had gone out of their mind, 'Bad puns never fail to piss people off.'
The next few minutes was an aerial dance, Hawks ducking and weaving blasts of mud in between shouting taunts to keep the villain occupied. It was quickly becoming an endurance battle between the two of them as Hawks waited for his back up to arrive. Thankfully, Hawks had trained for all types of battles since he was six years of age, so he was well prepared to fight for long periods of time.
It wasn't long before the usual crowd gathered around the fight: police, reporters and curious civilians who didn't seem to realise that their lives could be put in danger if they stepped a bit too close to the sentient mud pile. Thankfully, the police had already set up a perimeter far enough away from the mass of moving mud and the civilians had enough survival sense not to pass it, so Hawks didn't have to sacrifice any feathers to carry them back towards safety.
Unfortunately for Hawks, reporters appeared to be a different breed of stupid.
Helicopter reporters weren't unusual when it came to filming Hawks villain fights, it came with the territory of being a flying hero and most of his battles (or ones that they're quick enough to catch) taking part in the air. However, this particular time the helicopter pilot had decided that they needed to fly too close to witness Hawks play dodgeball with mud bombs and had caught the villain's attention as well.
It happened in an instant.
The next mud bomb, much larger than the ones being shot at Hawks, was launched towards the helicopter at breakneck speed. Hawks reacted on instinct, using the speed he was known for to get in between the helicopter and the mud bomb, a feather sword already swinging down to slice the mud in half in hopes that it would stop it.
It did not.
The mud bomb hit him at full force, covering him once again in dark substance and knocking him out of the air. The air left his lungs at the force and for a split and frightening moment he was spiralling from the air towards the rapidly approaching concrete. Wings, heavy with mud, snapped wide open out of panic, slowing down the speed of his fall greatly. He still smacked the floor hard enough to leave bruises for days but at least he didn't end up breaking a bone or ten.
Swallowing a groan of pain, Hawks pulled himself back onto his feet and assessed the damage. His whole body was aching from the fall but that was nothing Hawks wasn't used to; he's fought through worse. Instead, he turned his attention to something much more important. His image.
His face, his hair, his clothes, his wings, everything was covered in a thick layer of mud. A quick glance in the window of a shop (miraculously clean considering the villain they were fighting) showed Hawks he looked like he had belly flopped into a mud bath. He felt like it too.
Thankfully, Hawks tumble to the ground had given the helicopter ample time to fly to a safer distance and out of reach of the villain's mud bomb attack.
Not so thankfully, the villain also realised that shooting aimlessly at the helicopter would get him no results and so they returned their attention back to the now grounded target they had been missing previously.
"I guess it's time for round two, mud man," Hawks grimaced.
Predictably, the mud villain released the only attack it had been using for the past few minutes, a ball of mud with enough force behind it to crack multiple ribs if it landed a direct hit. Hawks prepared to take flight once again to dodge the incoming attack until he felt it.
His feathers and feet were encased in a thick layer of dried mud.
It takes only a second to realise he had made a huge miscalculation about the villain. They can not only control mud, but the viscosity of the mud itself.
Aware that he had no time to free his wings or feet from the mud to dodge, Hawks immediately raised his arms in front of his body in a defensive stance and waited for the painful impact with closed eyes.
One second passed. The two. Then ten.
Confused, Hawks cracked an eye open, and then both, as he gazed upon the sight before him.
The mud bomb was hovering inches away from Hawks, trapped inside the largest bubble Hawks had ever seen in his life.
Hawks sensed a presence behind him, his rescuer, and then he felt a gloved hand touch his shoulder. He turned his head slowly to look at the one who saved him, and his breath caught at the sight.
Like a knight in white shining armour, Wash stood before him. He stood proud, his washing machine as white and clean as his large eyes and sparkling proudly among the mud and filth that covered Hawks and the street.
Wash moved so he was in front of him, "Washa?"
It took Hawks a couple of seconds to register that his knight was asking him a question.
"Huh?" he mumbled unintelligently.
Wash's wide eyes held nothing but concern in the large depths and Hawks felt his heart skip a beat that all that concern was directed towards him.
"Washa, wash?" Wash repeated patiently as a gloved hand reached up to wipe away some of the drying mud cracking under his eye. "You okay?" Hawks internally translated.
"I'm f-fine," he stuttered, his cheeks heating under the gentle touch of those yellow rubber gloves, "Thanks to you."
"Washa!" Wash said in a relieved tone.
Wash then dropped his hands from Hawks face and he found himself missing the gentle touch and his heart clenched painfully. What was going on? Hawks had never felt so flustered in front of someone before. His heart was racing, his cheeks were burning, and his hands were trembling and yet Hawks had never felt safer and more alive. It was like his soul knew he was meant to be in Wash's presence, he felt drawn to him like he had never felt drawn to another before, and Hawks felt giddy with all the emotions washing over him.
A gluttonous roar behind him shocked Hawks back to reality, mostly because the villain hadn't actually made any noise before this and he realised that he hadn't been sure he exactly could. It appeared the villain seemed to gain new abilities when it was most convenient.
Wash's soft eyes immediately narrowed as the threat made itself known and Hawks felt a rush of heat run through him at the look.
"Washa..." Wash growled as he reached out an arm to push Hawks behind him protectively.
Hawks clutched at the tubing that covered Wash's arms tightly, "Yeah, this villain has been a pain to deal with," he murmured as he watched the mud villain stalk closer to where they were, "My quirk isn't suited to dealing with them at all so I'm not sure how much help I'll be."
"Washa, washa, wash," Wash said ("You did your best"), "Washa washa!" ("Leave the rest to me!")
Hawks nodded his head and released his arm, "Good luck, mister white knight, try not to let him get you too dirty as it would be a shame to see all that white be ruined."
Wash turned to him and winked cutely.
If Hawks thought his heart skipped a beat before due to Wash's antics, then it was nothing to the way it fluttered at this moment.
Wash opened his washing machine door and let loose a tidal wave of soapy water enough to rival the mud the villain was controlling before he rode on the wave like he was Poseidon charging into battle. For the next couple of minutes, both hero and villain fought valiantly, waves of mud and soapy water colliding against each other as the two battled to overcome the other and mud balls being shot like cannon balls at Wash only to be stopped by a well-timed soap bubble suspending them in place. However, despite it appearing at first that the two combatants were evenly matched, Hawks sharp eyes could see that Wash wave of water was slowly overcoming it's muddy adversary.
Hawks watched it all go down with bated breath, his hands clasped together as watched his knight fight to rescue them and Hawks city.
The villain seemed to realise that they were slowly being overpowered and changed tactics. And changed targets.
The ground underneath Hawks shook violently, and Hawks realised that his feet were still encased in the muddy trap he had been caught in earlier. He tried to shake them free, but the mud casing was too thick. Mud geysers burst up all around him and Hawks realised with a hint of horror that he was about to be buried alive.
"WASHA!"
He heard Wash scream out and Hawks felt regret. He didn't want to die before he had thanked Wash for saving him earlier. He didn't want to die at all, admittedly, but he knew that with his lifestyle it was only inevitable that he met a gruesome end. He just wished it wasn't with such deep regrets that he did.
The mud walls started to fall all around him, blocking out the sunlight for the last time, and dropping down to suffocate him.
Except the suffocating pressure never came.
Hawks looked around in amazement as the mud seemed to collide with an invisible barrier around him and stop before it could come anywhere close to him. He then felt a coldness surround his feet and he looked down to see soapy water rising from the ground and around his trapped legs, softening it enough that it set him free from his muddy prison. Unexpectedly, the moment he had pulled his feet free, he began to float upwards without the use of his quirk. He watched in wonder as he just rose and rose higher without needing his fierce wings to lift him up. Soon enough he was breaking free of the mud, with it sliding off the barrier of the confined space he was in, and as the sun shined on the confined space, rainbow colours exploded around the protective cocoon he was inside.
Hawks breath caught once again at the beautiful mosaic of colours around him, and he realised what had happened.
Wash had saved him again and had protected him with one of his bubbles.
It was a magical feeling, floating freely without the use of his quirk. While it was true that flying was nothing new to Hawks, he had never just floated so steadily in place and looked at the world around him and admired the view. Granted, due to the bubble, the world around him was warped in a way that looked like a funhouse mirror and made extra pretty with the rainbow of colours that redecorated the surroundings due to the sun hitting the bubble in just the right ways.
"Washa!" Wash shouted out cheerfully and Hawks turned to his saviour once again.
Despite the rest of the surroundings, Wash didn't look warped through the membrane of the bubble. Miraculously, the white of his costume was completely spotless and shining brightly in the sun. He stood proud on his wave of soapy water with his arm outstretched towards Hawks.
Wash looked beautiful.
Hawks heart started to beat rapidly, his cheeks started to burn red once again and the palms of his hands began to feel sweaty. He was confused, why was he feeling this way? He had never felt this way before in his life but an itch in the back of his mind told him he recognized them.
But why? Hawks flicked through his impressive bank of memory and knowledge to try and figure out why these aliens were so familiar to him. He knew for a fact that he had never felt anything like the before and yet-! Hawks slapped his cheeks and cursed internally, if he didn't know any better, Hawks would say he was acting like a stereotypical love-stricken teenage girl-
Oh.
Oh.
That's why Hawks recognized his feelings. His heart skipping a beat, his cheeks warming up randomly, his palms feeling clammy, how he would lose his breath whenever Wash did something. These were all feelings the protagonist would feel in a stereotypical romance novel.
'I didn't realise they were so accurate,' he thought in disbelief.
Hawks was in love with Wash. Hawks had fallen in love with Wash at first sight.
Hawks didn't know what to do with these newly recognized emotions. They were too much and yet not enough, he felt like they were consuming him and yet Hawks wanted to be consumed by them.
So, this was love.
As Hawks tackled these new emotions, the battle outside his bubble continued.
Wash and the mud villain were clashing once again except this time, Wash's attacks were much fiercer than they were before as they seemed to now be fuelled by anger. Indeed, Wash's bloodshot eyes were narrowed into a harsh look and an intimidating aura seemed to surround him. He was acting as violent as a washing machine on its final spin.
It shouldn't have been as hot as it was.
"WASH!" Wash roared, his high-pitched voice managing to sound terrifying, "Washa wash wash washa!" ("Villain!" "How dare you try to kill my friend!")
Hawks breath hitched. Wash thought they were friends even though they had just met. He didn't think his heart could take anymore affection.
The mud villain just roared back, their baritone voice sounding underwhelming compared to Wash's valiant screams.
With Wash fighting as fiercely as he was, it was no surprise that the muddy waves were overcome by the soapy tidal waves being controlled by Wash. The mud that coated the streets were being washed away and flushed into the sewer grates scattered around. Whether that was actually good for the sewage system, Hawks couldn't bring himself to care, he was confident Wash wouldn't jeopardize his city like that anyway so he was sure it would be okay.
The mud villain began to flail like a fish out of water as they lost more and more of their weapon to Wash's retaliation and in their desperation, they began to shoot mud bombs at both Wash and Hawks with the remaining mud they had left. Wash stopped them effortless with his bubbles.
"Washa washa." ("It's over.")
The villain seemed to have realised they were cornered as well and did the only thing they could do. Run.
And run they did. Run straight into a wall of bubbles Wash had prepared beforehand somehow and trapped themselves inside where they could no longer cause harm to anyone.
Silence befell over the city for a moment.
And another.
And then the crowd gathering burst into roars and screams of triumph. Wash's and Hawks' names were repeated over and over again and many of the civilians were clapping for them too.
It was clear why, Wash won by a landslide.
Wash cheered and waved back at the civilians, looking so cute and perfect that Hawks had to clutch the material of his jacket where his heart rested underneath in hopes that would somehow calm his skipping heartbeat.
Soon the bubble that protected Hawks through the fight was lowering him to the ground, only popping when Hawks feet were safely on the floor once again. Wash rushed over to him with a look of worried relief in his eyes and he reached out to steady him when Hawks legs shook (whether from his injuries or because he was so close to Wash, he wasn't sure).
"Washa wash wash!" Wash cried out in a relieved tone ("I'm glad you're safe!").
Hawks felt his heart swell with affection enough to make his ribs ache. Or maybe that was the fall he had taken earlier, he wasn't sure.
"I wouldn't have been without you," he replied in his most heartfelt tone, a red blush steady on his tanned cheeks, "Thank you."
Wash rubbed the lid of his costume as if he was embarrassed by Hawks words and Hawks swore that Wash was going to succeed where the villain had failed in killing him because he was going to die from his cuteness.
Before more conversation could be made between them, the police and reporters rush forward and surrounded the two of them, demanding reports, and interviews of what just happened. Hawks shared a knowing look with Wash before they both began to delve into details of the battle and the villain like these people haven't just been watching them fight for their lives while eating their body weight worth in popcorn and other snacks.
Well Wash was trying to, but it didn't take long for Hawks to see he was beginning to struggle with his interview.
"Wash washa wash wash wash!" Wash proclaimed into the microphone of a reporter who looked like she had smelled the world's worst fart. ("It was a tough battle, but he was no match for me!")
"Um, sure..." she grimaced, "You do know none of us understand what you're saying, we're not Pokémon and you're an adult, maybe you should start speaking like one."
Wash visibly deflated at that, the lid of his costume lowering as if to hide his embarrassment at being reprimanded.
Hawks felt anger burn in his bones.
"Excuse me miss!" he called out to catch her attention and scowled internally at how the reporter seemed to perk up at the prospect of speaking to Hawks rather than the man that had just saved them all, "Don't you think you should be nicer to the man that beat that villain? It's pretty unprofessional to mock someone for their speech patterns if you ask me."
The woman flushed red in embarrassment at being called out for her behaviour and she huffed loudly before storming away, her camera man stumbling after her, though not before he sent Wash an apologetic grimace. Unable to resist, Hawks shouted after her, "BY THE WAY! PEOPLE CAN UNDERSTAND HIM!"
Wash turned to Hawks in surprise, "Washa?" (You can?")
Hawks raised an eyebrow, "Of course, I've understood you the entire time."
Wash seemed to tear up at that and Hawks felt a momentary panic that he had said something wrong and blew his chance with the man. But then Wash wiped his tears away and looked up at Hawks with the widest, hopeful eyes he had ever seen before.
"Washa washa?" ("May I hug you?")
To say Hawks turned red was an understatement. Not only did his whole body turn a shade of crimson bright enough to match his wings, but he also felt about to overheat. "S-Sure!" he managed to squeak out and not a moment later he was being embraced against the cool metal body as surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his midriff. Hawks felt a touch of gratitude that Wash was careful not to touch his wings and he found himself melting into Wash's gentle touch, despite the surroundings of reporters, who were no doubt taking as many pictures of the two of them as they could.
He didn't think the HPSC would be too happy that he was seen embracing Wash, but Hawks couldn't bring himself to care.
Eventually Wash began to let him go. Hawks hand brushed the metal parts of Wash's costume and was surprised that the cool metal had heated up slightly, though whether that was because the material had absorbed Hawks own body heat or it happened for another reason, Hawks wasn't sure.
Was it possible Wash liked him back?
Before Hawks thoughts could spiral with the possibilities, the reporters took their chance to hound them once again, jumping on the hug like rabid dogs at the prospect of a story or even a scandal (as if someone as pure as Wash could be involved in a scandal, the shame of these people).
Question after question poured in, "What was that hug?" "Do you two do that often?" (Hawks got a chuckle out of that one considering they've literally just met but he secretly hopes it will become a common thing) "Are you two... a thing?!" This one was asked in a very overdramatic tone that Hawks couldn't help taking offense too, they sounded like Hawks and Wash being a couple was something... shocking. He felt his smile fall at that.
"Can't two guys hug it out after a harsh battle?!" he snapped, no longer in the mood to entertain these vultures.
As if sensing Hawks rising irritation, Wash placed a hand on his arm to help sooth his anger, "Wash, washa wash, wa-wash, wash," he said to the reporters in a firm but kind tone ("We've answered enough questions, we'll release an official statement later, please let us clean up.")
At Wash's words, Hawks became aware that he was still splattered with dried mud and probably looked like he had spent the night on his stomach in a pig pen. Great.
The reporters looked confused, as if what Wash had said was nothing but gibberish, but Hawks paid them no more mind as he removed himself from their huddle and over to the still clean window of the store window he had looked in before. One look at his reflection confirmed to him that he looked like he had gotten into a fight with an army of monkeys and lost.
"Guess patrol ends early for me today," he grumbled as he fished through the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone to send a text to his sidekicks, telling them to pick up the rest of his shift, "All this mud is going to be a nightmare to get out..."
He sensed a person approaching through the feathers before he saw them in the reflection of the window, but he didn't turn as he recognized the heavy-set footsteps and the clanking of metal. It was only when he felt a gentle tug on his jacket that he turned.
Wash had managed to chase away all of the reporters in the time Hawks had been gone and even the police were giving them a wide berth and Hawks couldn't help but feel grateful.
"Thanks," he found himself murmuring again, a genuine smile slipping back onto his lips. He looked down at his costume and sighed loudly, "Hey, Wash, you wouldn't happen to know a good place to wash out mud, would you? I'd rather not go around looking like a walking turd."
Wash giggled at his joke and Hawks felt a little pride that he managed to get such a cute sound from the other man.
Wash then tugged on his jacket again before he started walking down the street, "Washa!" he said cheerfully, "Wash wash wash!" (I know a place! Just follow me!")
Hawks ended up following Wash as he weaved through the backstreets of Fukuoka. It took Hawks a moment to realise that Wash was intentionally walking down streets that weren't as populated to avoid attention and his wings fluttered at the fact he was being so considerate. Before long, Hawks and Wash were standing outside of a closed laundromat but despite what the sign said, the door to the building was still open allowing the both of them to enter the empty building.
"Washa, wash wash washa," Wash explained sheepishly ("The reason I was in the area was because I was filming a commercial here,").
Hawks hummed in wonder, "I didn't know you were filming in Fukuoka; I would have swooped by if I had known."
Wash giggled once again and led Hawks to the row of washing machines out of view of the window to give them some privacy.
Knowing that he was out of the public eye, Hawks began to strip himself of his outer costume, pulling off his boots, baggy pants, gloves, and jacket and leaving himself in his tight-fitting flight suit. Relieved to be out of those dirty layers, Hawks allowed himself to collapse on the benches that lined one of the walls of the laundromat and stretch out over the worn cushion.
Wash had disappeared somewhere inside of the laundromat, but Hawks wasn't sure where. He was tempted to send a feather to look for him, but a bone deep exhaustion had set over him and he didn't want to move a muscle. Instead, he decided to wait for the other hero to come back.
He didn't have to wait long as a couple moments later, Wash walked back into the open room carrying multiple things, a tub filled with water, a washcloth and everything Hawks would need to wash his clothes.
Wash stopped momentarily to give out an adorable squeak and Hawks blinked in confusion and slight worry.
"Wash, buddy, you okay?" he asked, as he lifted himself up to sit instead of lying down, so Wash had enough room to join him on the bench.
"W-Wash!" Wash replied hastily, though he averted his eyes away from Hawks for some reason as he walked over. When he was close enough that they could touch, Hawks swore that Wash's metal was warmer than usual. Strange.
Wash placed everything on the bench and then offered the washcloth to him shyly, still not able to look at him completely. As Hawks took the washcloth, his bare hands brushed against the yellow rubber of Wash's gloves and he swore a shock ran through his spine at the touch. His and Wash's eyes finally met, and Hawks found himself lost in those stark depths. His breath hitched once again as he became aware of how close he and Wash were. Hawks wished he could confess here right now.
"Thank you," he said, the only thing he could make himself say with everything he wanted to say to Wash lodged in his throat.
The magic moment ended as Wash pulled away, turning his attention to Hawks dirty costume as Hawks himself busied himself with the task of cleaning his face of mud, glad that at the moment his red cheeks can be hidden by the unwanted mud facial. The water was warm and soapy, and Hawks couldn't help but wonder if Wash's quirk would feel the same against his skin or if it would feel even better.
It didn't take long for the mud to be cleared of his skin, falling away easily under the warm soap on the washcloth. Just as Hawks had finished cleaning himself, Wash had finished with putting his clothes and the right cycle they needed to get rid of the mud. Noticing that Hawks was standing awkwardly near the washing machine, Hawks removed the tub of water off the bench to clear a space next to him.
"Hey Wash, come join me," he called out, patting the now empty space.
Wash hesitated for a moment, twiddling with his gloves shyly before he ambled his way over to Hawks and sat next to him. Hawks enjoyed the warmth that seemed to be radiating off of the man's costume and couldn't help but shuffle a bit closer.
"Thank you again, Wash," he said earnestly, "For everything, saving me, getting me a place to wash off in private, you're amazing."
Wash seemed to shrink in on himself slightly at that, "Washa, wash wash," he whispered. ("No need to thank me.")
Hawks laughed softly at that, "No need to be so modest," he said as he patted Wash on the back, "You really got me out of a bind, I would have been made into mud pie if you hadn't rescued me and really, that's not the way I wanna go."
Wash squeaked but made a soft sound of understanding and for a couple of minutes a calm silence fell over them, the only sound was the spinning of the washing machine that was more of a white noise in the background of the relaxing atmosphere.
Hawks would have been content just to sit like this for a while and bath in the relaxed laziness that have befallen on them however an aching in his legs and ribs reminded him that he was not a robot and he needed to stretch them out and maybe crack some joints (or go to a doctor but let's be real, Hawks was a hero, he was used to brushing off the less severe injuries).
He stood up and stretched out his whole body, wings included, and that's when he became aware of all the lumps of dried mud that were still covering his sensitive wings. He flicked them irritably as an inch began to set in and began to grow frustrated that all that accomplished was only a couple specks falling loose.
"Damnit," he grumbled under his breath as he detached his feathers to look at the damage. Many of them were coated in dried mud, some were lucky to have received a light covering of mud and only a few had survived the fight untouched.
"Wash?" (What's wrong?")
Hawks turned to the man and sighed, "You wouldn't happen to know a good way to get mud out of feathers, would you?" he asked hopefully, "It's going to take forever to get it off my feathers one by one."
Wash raised a hand to where his face was hidden inside his costume in a thinking pose for a moment before his eyes widened and he looked around him, "Washa washa!" ("A washing machine!")
Hawks hummed in thought, "We could do that, I suppose," he murmured in contemplation, "But my feathers are extremely sensitive and sadly washing machines-" the sound of the washing machine washing his clothes began to grow louder as it began a particularly violent spin, "-usually aren't delicate..."
Wash deflated for a moment and Hawks felt bad for shooting his crush's idea down. However just as he was about to try and cheer him up, Wash cheered up once again, though he looked a bit more nervous this time around.
"W-Washa, wash, wash?" he offered shyly, "Wash wash washa wash." ("Y-You can use my washing machine? I can control the settings, so it'll only ever be gentle."
Hawks felt his whole-body flush red. Wash was offering... offering to allow a piece of Hawks inside of him...
He went stiff as a board as he nodded his head, "T-That sounds g-g-good," he stuttered, cursing himself internally for being such a stuttering stereotype. He was making a mountain out of a molehill; Wash was here offering to help him, and he was acting like he had asked Hawks to elope with him.
Hawks was relieved that Wash seemed to be as nervous as him at the idea and seemed to be too distracted to notice Hawks own nervous stuttering. For the next couple of moments, they skirted around looking at each other as Hawks and Wash picked out the feathers that would fit inside of his washing machine and which would need to be washed by hand. If Hawks or Wash's hands were shaking as they placed the feathers inside the metal drum of Wash's washing machine, none of them commented on it. Once the last feather was inside, Wash gently closed the door and looked up at Hawks.
"Wash?" ("Ready?")
Hawks gulped audibly and shook his head, "Let me sit down," he said as he took a seat beside Wash once again, though he was sitting much more stiff than he was last time. He took a deep breath, "Okay, I'm ready."
As soon as he said that he could feel warm soapy water trickle over his feathers, soaking them in a pleasing warmth that had Hawks unable to hold back a soft gasp. He rested his head back against the wall as his stiff muscles began to relax and focused on the pleasant sensation.
Soon the drum began to rotate, sloshing the water against the feathers in a way that reminded Hawks of a gentle massage. The drum picked a steady speed, not going to slow or too fast but instead spinning the water at a gentle pace that wasn't too harsh on his sensitive feathers.
He released a pleased sign and bonelessly dropped his head onto Wash's warm metal shoulder, "This feels nice," he slurred as his eyes began to droop, "Thanks for this..."
"W-Wash!" Wash stuttered and Hawks could feel the vibrations of his words through the metal he was resting his head on, the vibrations doing him no favour in keeping his eyes open. He tried to fight to stay awake but soon his eyes became too heavy to do so as a pleasant warmth settled in his bones. He felt himself slip off into restful and soothing sleep but just before he began to lose his grip on the world around him, he swore he felt Wash's arm snake around his back and hold onto his hip.
When Hawks awoke, the ache of the day had set deep into his bones but despite the pain, he felt well-rested. It took him a moment to realise that he was lying on the bench alone and felt disappointed that he hadn't woken up with Wash by his side.
"Wash?" he called out as he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly as the last bits of sleep still clung to him, "You still here?"
"Washa!" Wash's voice shouted back, though from the sound of it he was in another row of washing machine. Confused, Hawks followed the direction of his voice and the pull of his feathers. In the next row was Wash who was just opening the door to a machine, a dryer he realised in the back of his head and pulling out his costume.
The dark brown that had previously stained his clothing was gone completely and his costume looked as good as new. Wash cheered at the sight and sent Hawks a thumbs up and a wink that caused a flurry of affection to once again flow through his chest.
"You're the best!" Hawks grinned as he walked over and collected his costume. The clothing was still warm in his hands and Hawks couldn't wait to put them back on and chase the warmth that had put him to sleep originally.
Wash looked away shyly at the praise, rubbing the lid of his costume in embarrassment.
Hawks wished he had his phone so he could record him acting so cutely.
"Are my feathers done too?" he asked the other man.
Wash nodded his head eagerly, "Washa!" he said as he walked past Hawks and through a door into a back room. Hawks followed after and as he stepped into the room, his nose scrunched up at the smell.
A drying room. Well, at least Wash hadn't put his wings in a dryer.
All of his feathers, even the ones Hawks would have had to wash separately, were hung up to dry. 'Did Wash wash them when I was asleep?' he wondered as he approached some of the drying primaries that would have definitely been too big to fit inside Wash's washing machine. Hawks was touched at the gesture and he sent a soft smile in Wash's direction in silent thanks.
"They're as good as new too," he grinned as he ran a finger over one of his feathers, marvelling at the fact Wash had managed to keep them as soft as they naturally were.
Wash giggled in reply and Hawks wished that one day he could make that his ringtone. Wash came to stand beside Hawks and began to unpeg the feathers from the string they were dangling from and Hawks marvelled at how delicately he handled them.
Hawks never knew how relaxing it could be to do laundry. It was like they were in their own world, just the two of them enjoying each other's company.
Well, it was like that way for a moment before a loud squeak followed by a flash and a door slamming shut knocked Hawks out of that comfortable little bubble. He looked behind him and frowned in confusion to see the door to the drying room.
"Well, that was weird," Hawks said out loud, tilting his head in a bird-like manner in his confusion.
"Washa wash washa washa wash," Wash explained. ("It was probably one of the owner's children.")
Hawks hummed, "I guess that's our sign that it's time to leave," he said with a touch of disappointment. He didn't want to leave the comforts of Wash and the laundromat but sadly Hawks and Wash lived busy and important lives. They were heroes and they needed to be on the streets, protecting the innocent from the attacks of villains. Hawks had his rest and now it was time to get back into action.
Wash heaved a loud sigh but made a murmur of agreement and something in Hawks gut twisted at the fact that Wash didn't want to leave this homely space they had created with each other either.
If Hawks dragged his feet to get dressed, Wash didn't comment, and if Wash was extra slow and extra careful with Wash unpegging his feathers, well Hawks wasn't going to say a word. He enjoyed every brush of Wash's gloved finger down the spine of his feathers, and he made sure to wiggle them in response each time to show his appreciation.
But soon, Hawks had no more clothes to put on and Wash had no more feathers to unpeg.
It was time to return back to the real world.
Hawks gathered his electronics from the bench while Wash made sure the machines he had been using were turned off and in the case of the dryer, their filters empty (truly an upstanding citizen. Hawks couldn't love him anymore then he already did).
As they approached the front door of the laundromat, Hawks turned to Wash.
"I know I've said it already many times today, but I feel like I haven't expressed it enough, thank you for everything you've done for me today, Wash," Hawks said as he smiled down gently at Wash, "You've been a... a true white knight in shining armour for me."
Wash's machine parts began to heat up noticeable and Hawks was smart enough to put two and two together and realise Wash was blushing. As red began to fill his own cheeks, Hawks was grateful that he wasn't alone in feeling this way.
Taking a deep breath, Hawks decided it was time to tell Wash his feelings.
"I know we've just met but I have something I need to tell you," he gulped loudly and reached forward to take Wash's hands into his own, "I think I'm-"
Two sets of loud ringing startled both Hawks and Wash and Hawks immediately dropped Wash's hands to fish out his phone from his pocket. He didn't even get the chance to bring his phone to his ear before his secretary was screaming down it urgently (a good thing in hindsight).
"HAWKS! IT'S AN EMERGENCY! THERE ARE TWO POWERFUL VILLAINS ATTACKING THE CITY AND WE NEED YOU TO RESPOND IMMEDIATELY! I'VE ALREADY SENT YOU THE DETAILS."
Hawks turned to Wash to see him holding his own phone tightly in his grip. They shared a look, knowing that whatever Hawks had to tell him would have to be put on hold.
"Duty calls," he murmured.
"Wash," Wash agreed.
Hawks looked outside the window at his city, the city that needed him to protect it. He closed his eyes in acceptance, disappointed that he won't be able to share his feelings with Wash today.
"Well, I guess this is where we go our separate ways!" he said as cheerfully as he could, forcing a grin on his lips as he turned to face Wash.
Wash looked dejected but made a sound of agreement.
Hawks turned away, unable to handle seeing the man he loved so down, and instead opened the laundromat door. However, as he was about to step out and fly to where he was needed, a strong grip on his wrist turned him around so he was once again facing Wash.
Wash looked up at Hawks with the softest look he had ever received and he felt his heart melt into a puddle.
"Washa," he said as he reached up towards Hawks face and tucked something behind his ears, "Washa wash." ("Here," "For good luck.")
And then he was off, rushing past Hawks into the streets of Fukuoka at full sprint to where he needed to go. Hawks watched him for a moment, admiring how the setting sun reflected off the white of his costume and making him look even more radiant, before he reached up to take the good luck trinket Wash has placed behind his ear.
He opened his palm and smiled warmly.
It was a tide pod.
He brought the object to his lips and pressed a shaky kiss onto the smooth surface, hoping beyond all hope that would give Wash the luck he had wished onto Hawks in return.
He then pocketed the treasure, placing it in the pocket closest to his heart so Hawks always had a reminder of who had stolen his heart.
With an extra pep in his step, Hawks shot up into the air and flew towards where he also needed to be.
-
It had been a day since Hawks had his fateful encounter with Wash and he was still buzzing with all his new emotions and feelings.
The second villain fight that had interrupted his confession had been tough and Hawks hadn't escaped without injuries and them combined with the injuries he had received from the mud villain had the hospital he had been forced to go straight after advise him to take the day off (well, they had actually said two weeks, but they always exaggerated the time someone needed to heal) and Hawks planned to make the most of it.
He had spent the morning combing through all the pictures and articles for Wash, saving his favourite, and leaving some harsh comments on ones that were clearly insulting him. (An article called "Wash clogged Fukuoka's sewer" with the comment that Hawks was the only hero they needed, thank you very much, had received a very scalding review from Hawks). He had watched every commercial that Wash had appeared in and had bought all of his products and whatever merch he could find for the hero.
And now he was humming and harring over how he should contact Wash. His thumb lingered over the number to Wash's agency as he hesitated to ring him, combing through every excuse he could use on his secretary before throwing them out for sounding too ridiculous or stupid. (The thought to ring about the report of the mud villain, surprisingly, never crossed Hawks mind. They do say love makes you stupid and Hawks was beginning to be a prime example of that.)
Sighing in frustration, Hawks dropped his phone onto his bed and turned to his laptop instead to distract himself.
With nothing better to do, he logged onto Tumblr and checked his notes. His Endeavor’s ass thirst post has gotten quite a lot of attention from others and Hawks was enjoying reading the comments and the tags others had posted.
Then he stumbled across an interesting reblog. A lot of the reblogs had pictures of other pros with fine asses added as well (Mount Lady was a very popular addition) and some even added him in those reblogs too (he made sure to block everyone who used the poop scandal pic of his ass because he did not want to be reminded of that) however this added image was different from the usual.
It was a picture of Hawks in nothing but his flight suit with Wash standing beside him. It was a picture from yesterday.
'That explains what that flash was,' he mused as he looked over at the picture. The owner's child that stumbled across them must have taken a picture and decided a Tumblr post about the best hero asses was the best place to share it.
'Shame, they could have made a quick buck off of that,' he mused.
Hawks turned his attention back to the picture and found his gaze drawn to Wash. Even in rushed photography, he managed to look handsome. Hawks ran his cursor over the sharp edges of Wash's costume, pausing slightly at the bottom of the washing machine.
A smooth plain of white metal should not look as attractive to Hawks as it did.
He couldn't resist. He saved the picture to his laptop then cropped a copy of it so only Wash's metal behind was the only thing in the picture.
'There's truly nothing sexier than this piece of hunk' he typed as a reply to the picture before sharing the cropped image of Wash.
Sadly, the reblog didn't have the effect he was hoping for.
People immediately began reblogging his reblog with tags such as 'joke post' or 'meme' or sarcastic comments about how he was right.
Scowling in frustration, Hawks was about to delete his response when one reblogger caught his attention.
'Hey @washawash, what a sexy butt you have! <3'
Hawks blinked at the name and clicked on the blog. He expected a fan blog of Wash, who he would have followed immediately because the more people appreciated Wash, the better, but anons this blog received made him gasp. They answered like they were the real Wash...
He scrolled through some of the anons, scowling at some of the more hateful ones, until he stumbled across one that made his blood boil.
How dare they. How dare this person assume they know how he felt about Wash. He didn't know who this 'Autumn-Foxfire' was, but he was disgusted that they seemed to think they knew his feelings better then himself. And Wash, poor Wash, had shared his feelings so openly for Hawks-
Wait.
Hawks re-read Wash's reply and turned as red as his wings.
Wash loved him.
He actually loved him.
Hawks grabbed his pillow and screamed. He was shaking in excitement, all his senses on high alert and yet so muddled he couldn't make out left and right.
He scrambled to his feet and rushed to his drawer, where he had placed the lucky trinket Wash had given him in a box for safe keeping. He pulled it out and placed multiple kisses on the tide pod, wishing that it was Wash who he was smothering with his affection.
Wash loved him! The post clearly said so! Wash even said he would respect Hawks feelings regardless-
His heart plummeted.
He needed to correct Wash and that awful Autumn-Foxfire. He needed to tell Wash how he truly felt.
Hawks rushed back to his laptop and planned his next course of action. He couldn't tell Wash he loved him with this blog, it was his private blog he used to escape from life whenever he found the time. No, he needed to create a new blog, one that would tell Wash that it was Hawks, one made only for the purpose of confessing his love for Wash.
He settled on a username 'totallytherealhawks'. It was a bit on the nose and could create some doubt, but it was one of the only usernames for him not taken.
He designs the blog to fit his aesthetic, knowing that a completely bare blog would draw even more suspicion from his dear Wash and then he followed him and only him.
Pulling up the private message box, Hawks felt his fingers freeze over his keyboard. He didn't know what to write, he didn't want to screw this up. He needed his love for Wash to shine through.
Was this a stupid idea? Maybe he should just contact Wash's agency and get his number like that?
No. No, he needed to do this. Autumn-foxfire's cruel words to Wash rang through his head and he felt the passion bubble under his skin. He needed to make this right.
And so... with a deep breath, he began typing.
Posting the message was nerve-wracking but after he had done it, he felt a sense of calmness wash over him. Wash would know it was him, he was sure of it.
What they shared was true love at first sight after all.