Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya felt like he was going to be sick. It was Friday, the day he and the rest of Class 1-A would be leaving for their internships, and it felt like his stomach was trying to claw its way out of his body just to get away from the nerves that were wracking his body.
Most of his friends were handling everything far better. Todoroki seemed utterly unfazed, despite the fact that Izuku knew he wasn’t looking forward to a weekend full of his father and fire. Uraraka had been bouncing on her feet all day, torn between worry that Gunhead wouldn’t like her and excited because she knew she was going to learn so much. Iida was –
Well, Iida was distant. He seemed, on the surface, to be fine but there was a look in his eyes, as though there was something dark shadowing his every move. Izuku had tried to reach out but Iida had brushed it away as though it was nothing, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and a dismissive chop of his hand. Since then, it was like a curtain had been drawn between him and Iida, something he couldn’t pull back even if he tried to reach a hand to it.
He didn’t seem nervous about his internship at all. His response to Izuku asking him about it had been an almost perfunctory statement that he was eager to learn from Manual, almost completely devoid of any of Iida’s particular brand of enthusiasm. It was worrying, and, perhaps, if Izuku wasn’t half-embroiled in his own internship troubles, he might have been able to pinpoint the exact moment his worry should have dropped into outright fear.
But Izuku was neck-deep in his own troubles and so he took his friend’s words at face value. He might have just needed a change of scenery or space, both of which he would have at the internship; if Iida came back still distant, Izuku would reach out again. It wasn’t like Iida would do anything dangerous or reckless; he was the same boy who agonized over proper bus etiquette and he was going to be with a pro-hero. It was very unlikely anything terrible could happen.
Izuku’s situation, however, was much less secure.
He had made a decision, finally, at the last possible moment the day before, and he was still unsure it was the right one. His friends had tried to help, as much as possible, with advice and support but they couldn’t make the decision for him. And, as Tsu had frankly pointed out over lunch, they didn’t have the same experiences as Izuku and what they might decide would have been based on their understanding and not his, so it wasn’t too helpful to ask them what they would do in his stead.
Izuku had to decide what was best for him and, when he had turned the paperwork into a carefully impassive Mr. Aizawa – Izuku had hoped for a hint of expression, approval or disapproval or anything at all really, from the man but he had given away nothing – he had thought, for a moment, that he had.
But now it was time to head out for the actual internships and all the doubt he felt had come crushing down on him in a wave of nauseous anxiety.
The rest of the class had already left for their internships. Most of them, except for the few whose chosen agencies were within walking distance, had gone to the train station. Izuku, however, had been directed by Mr. Aizawa to stay at the school as the hero coming to pick him up would meet him here. He was the only student doing so and the fact that he was singled out did nothing to curb the rising anxiety he felt.
Izuku couldn’t help but shift his weight as he glanced down at his phone for the sixth time in the last minute. It wasn’t quite the time Mr. Aizawa had given him, but it was nearing closer every second. Izuku was doing his best not to feel like the clock was slowly ticking away to his doom, but it was a near thing.
Had he made the right choice? Had he made the worst choice? Was a hero even going to come or was this, despite all of Mr. Aizawa’s and his friends’ assurances, some elaborate cruel joke and no one was coming to get Izuku for an internship? It wouldn’t be the first time Izuku had been left alone, waiting for someone who had never intended to come and even though it had been almost a decade since other kids had gotten bored of pretending to want to invite him over to play just to laugh while he waited for them after school, it was something he couldn’t quite shake out of the back of his mind.
He checked his phone again and his heart lurched when he saw that the time had changed. It was officially four o’clock and no one had come to the UA gate.
He tried not to give in to his panic; heroes were busy people, it wasn’t like they would be there right on the dot. He was being silly, unreasonable even.
He wasn’t going to be left alone, heroes were not like schoolchildren. They would not commit the same cruel tricks. They would –
“Heyo.” They would suddenly appear in front of Izuku, causing him to squeak and nearly fall back, only saved from falling by a quick hand.
“Didn’t mean to startle you there, kid. Sorry about that!” Hawks didn’t sound sorry in the slightest, warm amusement clear in his words even as he made sure Izuku was steady on his feet before loosening his grip and giving him a gentle pat.
Izuku’s face was beyond scarlet. The number three hero wanted to intern him, of all people, for no apparent reason and Izuku couldn’t even keep his feet steady underneath him.
He almost, almost wished Hawks hadn’t shown up. At least then no one would be around to see his embarrassment.
“Um, t-thank you H-“ Should Izuku just use the hero’s name? Was that too casual? But he didn’t have another name for him – he called all of his teachers except Mr. Aizawa by just their hero names but they specifically said to, Hawks hadn’t given any permission. “Um, M-Mister Hawks, sir.”
Apparently, that was the wrong call. Izuku wanted to melt into the ground as Hawks’ face broke into a wide grin. He was nice enough, at least, not to outright laugh but Izuku could see the amusement clearly written on his face. “You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” Hawks clapped Izuku’s shoulder, as he spoke and it took all of Izuku’s strength not to immediately flinch. He was slowly getting used to regular, casual touch – a lot of his classmates were physically affectionate people – but it still caught him off guard more times than not. He was sure that, despite his efforts, he must have at least stiffened a little under Hawks’ warm hand but, if the hero noticed, he was kind enough to ignore it. “You can just call me Hawks, kiddo.”
Izuku tried not to nod too quickly – Tsu was sometimes too honest and he still remembered all too clearly that he apparently looked like a bobble head when he got too excited or nervous and he didn’t want Hawks’ first impression of him to be that he was a sweet bobblehead – and he offered a small, unsure smile.
Hawks seemed to accept it as his grin morphed into a wide smile and he clapped Izuku’s shoulder once, before dropping it and bouncing back on the heels of his feet while shoving his hands into the wide pockets of his jacket. “Now, I’d say let’s hit the road but I think there’s someone who wants to see you off and I’m pretty sure he’d pluck me alive if I took off with you first.” Hawks’ smile was surprisingly cheerful despite the macabre nature of his words. Izuku had no idea who he was talking about, he couldn’t think of anyone who would want to take time out of their schedules just to see him off. His mother had already done that this morning, with her usual amount of tears and fanfare, and his friends had all said their goodbyes before heading to their own internships.
No one else would waste their ti-
“Ah, there he is now. Running a little late, aren’t you?” Hawks’ voice broke through Izuku’s thoughts as he spoke loudly over Izuku’s shoulder. Izuku immediately turned to see who had come down from the school.
Mr. Aizawa’s scowl was darker than Izuku had ever seen directed at someone who wasn’t actively trying to kill another person and also wasn’t All Might. Izuku couldn’t help but shrink back. He didn’t think he’d done anything to upset his teacher but he couldn’t imagine the anger was directed at Hawks.
Except Mr. Aizawa’s gaze passed over Izuku without any acknowledgement and landed on Hawks. The glare deepened even further, which Izuku hadn’t thought possible. “I thought I told you to come into UA before meeting Midoriya.”
Mr. Aizawa’s tone was beyond icy but Hawks seemed utterly unbothered by it, his smile not even fading a bit. “Ah, come on, Eraser. The kid was just standing out here, waiting. It would have been rude to just ignore him.”
Mr. Aizawa was utterly unmoved. “And now he will stand there waiting while we talk. If that was a concern for you, you should have arrived earlier when he was occupied.” Mr. Aizawa’s tone was brusque as he handed Hawks a stack of papers. “Sign these and be off.”
Hawks grabbed the offered papers with an arched eyebrow. “I thought I already filled out all the paperwork and had it emailed? Pretty sure that’s what the secretary was getting on me about, though I guess she could be selling my signature on one of those sketchy sites.” He sounded unconcerned about the possibility and Mr. Aizawa’s eye seemed to twitch, which Izuku had never seen before. As unobtrusively as possible, Izuku took a half step back.
He didn’t think Mr. Aizawa would do anything, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious.
It proved a good decision when, out of the many folds of Mr. Aizawa’s capture scarf, Principal Nezu suddenly emerged, making Izuku jump in surprise. Had he not moved back, he would have surely bumped straight into Hawks but at least he was saved that embarrassment.
“Am I a bear, a stoat, or a mouse? It doesn’t matter because I’m the principal!” Izuku had heard that was how the principal always greeted people but he had never before experienced it but no warning could quite prepare him for the odd mix of cute and terrifying that was the principal.
Hawks, somehow, managed to look unruffled even at the sudden appearance of the UA principal. “Principal Nezu, I’m honored.”
He didn’t sound honored or anything related to it, merely mildly amused, but Principal Nezu just gave his own too-sharp smile in response. “And I the same to you! It’s not too often anymore that a hero in the top ten didn’t graduate from UA, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!”
Izuku must have imagined it, but he could almost swear there was a threatening tone in the principal’s cheerily inquisitive voice.
Hawks’ grin only widened as he gave an acknowledging nod. “That so? Guess that explains why I gotta fill this all out again, huh?” As he spoke, Hawks reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a bright red, almost ostentatious looking pen. “My autograph pen’s only one I got on me, unfortunately. Is red okay?”
Mr. Aizawa looked torn between wanting to snatch Hawks’ pen and snap it in half and just turning away without a word, but Principal Nezu just smiled again. “That’s perfectly alright! We do have the official paperwork you sent us, these papers are of a different matter. The HPSC contacted me today to inform me that given Mr. Midoriya’s unique conditions, they require more paperwork. It must have slipped their minds to inform us beforehand!”
Izuku definitely wasn’t imagining the sharp bite to the principal’s words anymore but he couldn’t fathom what it was about. He tried to find an answer from the adults before him, but Hawks and Principal Nezu both bore unassuming smiles and there was nothing but displeasure and annoyance written on Mr. Aizawa’s.
“Mr. Midoriya will have to fill out some of the questions and sign as well,” Principal Nezu continued as Hawks braced the papers on his right hand and began quickly signing them. Izuku was fairly certain the man wasn’t even reading them – he wouldn’t blame him for that because the only word that could politely describe the entire situation was awkward – because he was flipping through the pages with reckless speed.
At least, Izuku thought he wasn’t reading them until the man came to a complete halt on a page. His smile didn’t quite flicker – Izuku didn’t think anything could really dampen Hawks’ smile – but there was a sudden edge to the man’s gaze when he looked up at the principal still cheerfully wrapped in Mr. Aizawa’s scarf. “Are these questions really necessary?”
Hawks’ voice was still light; Izuku wouldn’t even think he was bothered by whatever was on the page except it was the first thing that had made the hero pause in the entire packet of forms. He had directed the question to Principal Nezu but it was, perhaps a little surprisingly, Mr. Aizawa that answered.
“Best you ask your friends at the hero commission that. I’ve never seen questions like that about a student’s internship.” Mr. Aizawa’s tone was sharp enough to sever limbs and Izuku didn’t dare ask what the questions actually were despite the curiosity eating away at him. He couldn’t imagine what kinds of official questions would be invasive enough to make two pro-heroes respond like that.
Apparently, he didn’t have to imagine anyway. Before he could even register what was happening, Hawks was shoving the papers and his pen into his hands. “These last couple pages are for you, kiddo.”
The weird questions were for him, apparently. Izuku looked down with a fair bit of dread; he couldn’t help but feel nervous, not when the number three hero and his own homeroom teacher apparently didn’t like the questions.
He understood the moment he actually took in the papers and nearly threw it to the ground.
It was medical forms, almost standard in appearance. The top of it was already neatly typed in with his basic information – full name, age, height, quirk, sex, secondary sex, date of his last doctor’s appointment, his primary doctor’s name – but the rest of the page was filled with questions and blank lines and check boxes, waiting for him to fill it in.
Seemingly innocuous questions until Izuku actually read them. In truth, they were horrible. Beyond horrible, absolutely mortifying.
Izuku had had his fair share of embarrassing and intrusive questions; doctor’s visits during puberty were nightmare fuel for any child and middle school students didn’t have boundaries on a good day, let alone when it came to the weird quirkless, omega boy they already thought less of. But the questions that filled the page, questions that were being asked of him by his school and a government agency for a school-sanctioned internship, were well beyond anything he would have expected.
The fact that the three men in front of him had all already read and knew what was on these pages made it even worse.
He could feel his face heat up as he looked up from the paper and cast a pleading look at the principal. “Aa-“ his face darkened even further as his voice cracked, “a-re these r-really necessary, Principal Nezu?”
Perhaps sensing Izuku’s obvious discomfort, the bear-rat-stoat’s face seemed to almost soften. Or at least, the grin on his face turned just a tad less sharp, which seemed the principal’s equivalent of softening. “I understand they are obtrusive, Mr. Midoriya, and I would not have required them myself. But the HSPC was very clear that they are requiring the same paperwork for all omega students entering a work agreement at any HSPC-accredited agency.”
Izuku was the only omega student and practically every agency – apart from a few of the most underground paper agencies where the need of secrecy trumped any government desires – were officially accredited by the hero commission. It felt targeted, a punishment for daring to go outside an omega’s expected place.
Izuku didn’t know why the hero commission cared so much.
And it was humiliating.
“Midoriya.” Mr. Aizawa’s voice lacked the irritation that it’d had the entire conversation and his eyes, when Izuku instinctively looked up at him, were understanding. “Think of it as nothing more than the checkup paperwork at a doctor’s office. None of this information will be used against you, it’ll be sealed within your file in the school at within the Hero Commission, unable to be accessed by anyone but whoever may need it.”
Izuku didn’t see how anyone would need it, but he swallowed back his uncertainty and nodded. Mr. Aizawa was the only person in the group who really understood the questions, even if it sounded like the hero commission had never required him to fill out the same paperwork. Izuku trusted him when he said it wouldn’t be held against him or shared around for others to see.
It didn’t make the knowledge that the principal and Mr. Aizawa and probably even Hawks would know the answers, but they were all professionals. They had certainly dealt with more sensitive information.
With his teacher’s assurance and Izuku’s face bright, fiery red, he looked back down at the paper and began reading and answering the questions.
What was the date your last preheat began? The first question read and Izuku quickly wrote down the date of the Sports Festival.
What was the duration of your last preheat? Three days, Izuku wrote as small as he could.
What symptoms did you experience? Was that Hawks’ or Mr. Aizawa’s gaze that felt so heavy on him? Did they have to watch as he quickly jotted down all the symptoms he’d had.
Were there any abnormalities? Izuku checked off ‘no.’
Have you begun to experience any of the following: Izuku’s face burned as he read all the symptoms that followed. They were all symptoms of a heat and not a preheat and of course he hadn’t had any of them he wasn’t even fifteen yet. He left it all blank.
Are you expected to transition to full heats within the next 6 months? If so, approximate the date when. How would Izuku even do that? The strokes of the glaring red “no” almost ripped through the paper as Izuku quickly wrote it.
What is the regularity of your preheats? Are you expected to go into a preheat within the next thirty days?
On and on the questions went down the page and Izuku answered all of them as quickly as he could, his face burning more and more with each of the invasive questions. It was with tangible relief that Izuku signed his name at the bottom of the page and shoved the paper towards Hawks without another glance at it.
Hawks had to read the page, or at least pretend to before signing off on it, but Izuku hoped he would barely register the information. He seemed the type not to read the entire Terms and Conditions, at the very least.
But maybe not, as Izuku watched from the corner of his eye – he couldn’t quite bring himself to actually bring his gaze all the way up to the man – as mild confusion wove itself across Hawks’ face.
“This is the date of the Sports Festival, isn’t it?” Hawks asked, tapping the page with his blood red pen. Izuku had really hoped the hero wouldn’t recognize the date. He didn’t want to explain the outrageous absurdity that had possessed him that day; even if it had gotten him an internship with the number three hero, it had been a very bad idea. Hawks probably wouldn’t like someone so reckless and even if he did, the hero commission definitely wouldn’t.
But Izuku couldn’t lie about it; even if the guilt about lying to a pro-hero didn’t eat him up inside, the date of the Sports Festival would be easy to check and Mr. Aizawa and Nezu both probably wouldn’t hesitate to correct him. So, with a great deal of reluctance, Izuku gave the tiniest nod possible before gauging the man’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. The best-case scenario would be a light scolding from Hawks; the worst case, being dropped from the internship.
Neither scenario accounted for laughter and Izuku couldn’t help but jump when a peal of it rang out from the number three hero.
“Oh man,” Hawks said right after his laughter had calmed and before anyone else could respond, “you’re something else, aren’t you, kiddo? I’m so glad I picked you.” Izuku’s mind blanked with confusion. Hawks had obviously gathered that Izuku’s heat had started sometime during – or perhaps before – the Sports Festival but he didn’t seem bothered by Izuku’s reckless acts in the slightest. In fact, he seemed absolutely pleased by it. It was an odd reaction, one that Izuku wasn’t sure would sit well with any other adult he knew.
“Do not encourage him,” as if he had read Izuku’s mind and wanted to agree, Mr. Aizawa spoke out, his voice dark as he glared at Hawks once more. Hawks merely waved a dismissive hand in acknowledgement before signing the last of the papers with an unnecessary flourish and handing them over to Nezu.
“Yeah, yeah. Not allowed to have fun with the baby, got it. I’ll be sure to bubble wrap him before I take him out for patrol, alright?” Izuku was fairly certain the number three hero had a death wish – there was no way someone who liked living would dare talk to Mr. Aizawa like that – but before Mr. Aizawa could do anything remotely dangerous, Hawks had a tight hold on Izuku’s wrist and was pulling him through the entrance of UA. “I’ll have him back to you on Monday! Try not to fret yourself to death, alright? Mic’d never forgive me!”
Izuku craned his neck to look back at his teacher and principal as he was dragged along. Principal Nezu had one of his unreadable serene smiles on his face while Mr. Aizawa looked like he was contemplating murder. Perhaps they both were, and Principal Nezu was simply better at hiding it. Izuku decided not to think about that.
“B-bye, Mr. Aizawa! Bye, Principal Nezu!” He called over his shoulder, right as Hawks pulled him through the gate.
“Goodbye Mr. Midoriya!” Came Principal Nezu’s response. “Let’s have some tea when you come back!” Izuku had honestly forgotten about that request, from before the Sports Festival, and part of him – the part who could sense the viciousness that lay underneath the benign smile and furry appearance and who had also done in-depth research in the multitude of destructive annihilations the principal had engaged in during his herowork – hoped he would forget again. Tea with Principal Nezu sounded terrifying.
“You have my number if anything goes wrong, Midoriya.” Was Mr. Aizawa’s response and somehow, that was even more terrifying than Principal Nezu.
Hawks seemed to disagree, judging by the soft, almost chirp-like snort that escaped his lips as he finally succeeded in half-dragging Izuku through UA’s doors and out of the sight of his teacher and principal. The man must have been fearless, a quality Izuku wasn’t sure if he should admire or be frightened about.
“Never expected Eraserhead of all people to be such a mother hen,” Hawks told him cheerily, finally dropping Izuku’s wrist and slowing his walk to a more sedate pace. Izuku wasn’t sure how to respond; agreeing would be disrespectful to Mr. Aizawa but he also felt like arguing with the hero currently in charge of his entire internship was a colossally bad idea. Luckily, he was spared from having to choose by Hawks rapidly changing the topic. “Normally, I fly around to wherever I need to go, or take the train if I can’t, but it’s a ways to my agency and I figured I’d ease you into the whole flying thing a little more slowly than that. Can’t just drop off the roof with you, ya know? And train’s out of the question because it’s too public – figured it would be best to have you at the agency before we drop the news of the internship. Helps control the more fanatic peeps and all that. So we’re going to drive.”
It had been a lot of information at once and Hawks spoke fast, his words sometimes dipping into a more rounded, colloquial style before mellowing back out, but Izuku thought he’d kept up fairly well. He wasn’t sure about the rules of his internship with Hawks, but the man at least seemed friendly and open to questions. “Y-you can drive, Mr- um, Hawks, sir?” He had never heard anything about that or seen any images of the man in a car, let alone driving one, and there had been several interviews Izuku had seen where the man had joked about cars giving him “ground-anxiety.”
“Not even a bit,” Hawks responded, his voice cheerful as ever and smile blinding despite what seemed a very obvious issue with his statement. Izuku was about to ask how they were going to drive to his agency then as Izuku certainly couldn’t drive when a sleek, black car came to a sudden halt in front of them. “Right on time, as always.” Hawks’ smile hadn’t budged even though Izuku had instinctively jumped back from the curb and he opened the door for Izuku with a flourishing wave of his hand.
Izuku couldn’t help but think of all of his mother’s thorough lectures about stranger danger and never getting into an unknown car even as he obediently scurried into the backseat. Surely, this didn’t count - even if he couldn’t see much of the driver except for a blurred silhouette of a man through a glass partition he hadn’t been able to see from the outside, it wasn’t really a stranger if he was following orders from a hero.
Izuku could hear his mother’s voice, a little frantic and a little on the verge of tears, loudly crying out that it definitely counted and made an internal note to exclude the odd car ride when he spoke with her later as Hawks slid into the seat next to him. His wings were curled in as much as possible but they still managed to brush up against Izuku as the older hero settled.
“Sorry it’s a little tight,” Hawks shot him another smile before gesturing across his own chest. “Buckle up, won’t ya? Eraser’d barbeque me for dinner if you went through a window and Yamisaki here views all speed limits as easily-ignored suggestions.” Izuku quickly pulled his seatbelt over himself as the driver – Mr. Yamisaki –pulled back out onto the street.
Despite Hawks’ warning about Mr. Yamisaki’s driving, the man seemed more than adept at handling the busy streets around him – far more so than Auntie Mitsuki, whose road-rage was so notorious not even Kacchan would brave being in a car with her at the wheel for more than a few minutes’ time or Izuku’s own mother who had never learned after living her entire life in the city – and the drive seemed to quickly pass as he smoothly made his way through the bustling afternoon traffic.
Izuku had no idea how long the drive was supposed to be – he knew where Hawks’ agency was, of course, and had even memorized the train routes and times with the assumption that they would be taking one but train times didn’t translate well into driving times and Izuku was too used to public transport to know how much slower driving might be – but the silence that had already settled around them was almost suffocating. He had so many questions on the verge of his tongue and caught in the back of his throat and absolutely zero confidence to voice any of them.
He couldn’t get a good enough read on Hawks to know if questions would really be welcome or if too many of them would set the seemingly chill hero off and the ones he really wanted to ask – like why Hawks had picked Izuku of all people and if Mr. Aizawa was right to be worried about the commission or if his teacher was just paranoid – were inappropriate at best and a sure-fire way to get himself a one-way ticket back to Musutafu at worst.
Izuku tried hard not to fidget as Mr. Yamisaki made several consecutive turns – were they going a purposely circumventing way or was that just in his mind? – but he couldn’t help but tap his fingers against his knee despite himself.
The motion obviously caught the hero’s attention. “Gonna tell me what you got running through your head, kiddo?” Hawks’ voice didn’t sound anything but faintly amused as he easily broke the silence that had descended on them but Izuku still immediately clenched his fingers into a fist to stop the tapping. He had probably been annoying the hero.
“Um,” Izuku definitely couldn’t tell the hero that he had been wondering if Mr. Yamisaki was part of the commission or just a standard driver employed by Hawks’ agency, or anything else that had been running through his mind and he didn’t want to ask any of the other, less dangerous questions either, even if he was burning to know how Hawks’ feathers became sharp enough to cut through villains’ when they felt so soft as they brushed against his arm in the tight space of the car, without sounding like a complete fanboy idiot.
“Wait, no, don’t answer, let me guess!” Hawks spoke again, voice practically vibrating with cheery excitement. There was no way he actually knew what Izuku had been thinking, right? He wasn’t that obvious? Oh no, he totally was and Hawks was totally going to yell at him for making bad assumptions about his employees or –
“You wanna know what I got instore for you this week, don’t you?”
- Or he would completely and happily get it entirely wrong. Izuku felt himself relax, marginally, at the knowledge that Hawks couldn’t read everything he had been thinking and gave a small nod. It wasn’t like he was going to disagree with the number three hero and tell him what he had really been thinking.
His nod was enough for Hawks who immediately launched into an in-depth account of everything he was hoping to teach Izuku over the course of the internship. Izuku felt himself relaxing as the man spoke, his voice smooth and sunny even as he slid in a few vague barbs against Mr. Aizawa – they really didn’t seem to like each other, Izuku had no idea why – and he found himself comfortable enough to almost join in on the mostly one-sided conversation.
He didn’t know why he had been so worried. Certainly, Mr. Aizawa’s warnings and the paperwork he had to fill out had gotten him on the wrong-foot about the internship but Hawks was a comforting, spirited presence and Izuku felt welcome even if he still didn’t know what had drawn Hawks to him in the first place.
He had made the right choice, despite all his fears about it. Hawks was going to be a great teacher and Izuku was going to have a phenomenal internship.
At least, he had just started to think that when Mr. Yamisaki finally came to a stop and Izuku became aware of a dull chatter of some sort outside of the car.
Hawks’ wings were too thick to see anything through – at least without pushing away some of the feathers at the end which Izuku absolutely wouldn’t do, it was incredibly rude to touch an avian-quirked person’s wings without explicit permission - but there was no mistaking the sudden roar of a crowd when Hawks opened the door to the car just enough to peer outside. No was there any mistaking the quiet but almost appreciative “damn” that had slipped from the pro-hero’s mouth as he took in whatever was going on outside.
He shut the door as quickly as he could but not before Izuku could make out some of the roar.
Izuku tried not to panic as the hero turned towards him, his smile nearly perfect as ever but not quite reaching the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t help but feel like his heart was suddenly about to beat itself right out of his chest and onto the pristine floor of the number three’s car.
There was no doubt that it was the media outside their car, probably blocking an easy route to Hawks’ agency, circling around like beasts having sensed the fresh blood that was Izuku.
Izuku couldn’t help but wish, among the rising panic that was the realization that somehow, someway, the media had found out about Hawks taking on an intern without UA or his agency making an official announcement, that it was the Wild Wild Pussycat’s very own Pixie-Bob’s earthen beasts surrounding him instead.