Chapter Text
Hawks expected a lot on his birthday
Well, he expected a lot, but that didn't mean that he was looking forward to a lot of it. For something so public knowledge, he sometimes wished that he could spend the day a little more privately, like how normal people do when they simply take the day off and do what they want. He wasn't looking forward to being sent a sack of celebratory letters and confectionaries that he would never be able to eat (his management team didn't want to bother hiring a taste tester, so they just strongly advised for senders to not send any sort of edible consumable, store bought or not. That didn't stop some people from doing it anyway though). And he certainly wasn't looking forward to screening through said sack with his assistant just to handpick a few that would go into his public birthday video either.
Okay, maybe he was half looking forward to that.
But only because it was with you.
You had been Hawk's personal assistant for a year now, and after graduating around the same time, you had just as much to prove behind the scenes as he did on the field. Hawks preferred to forgo formalities when it came to talking to you, saying that it was much too tiring to have to keep them up with someone who would be taking care of his day to day tasks. Your relationship slowly grew into a good friendship as you both resolved to do your best.
"Food," your quiet and dull announcement didn't pull him out of his thoughts, but the sound of a container clunking into the tall metal wastebasket did. He realized that somewhere between the time it took to sit at his desk and for the courier to drop off the enormous sack, he spaced out. Not one to leave such a monumental task until the last minute, you took to sitting in front of his desk and starting the sorting right away.
"Aw come on. Do we have to do this now?" he let his head rest in his hand that was propped up on the desk.
"You know we do. The longer we wait, the harder it'll be," you sighed while skimming through a handwritten letter before dropping it into the trash pile, deeming its contents to be too stalkerish for public TV. "The news crew will be here in about 2 hours and we need to be ready for them." You heard a loud thud after finishing your explanation and looked over to see that the winged hero had landed face first onto his desk. His propped arm was still up in the air and fingers curled to begin forming a fist, but it seemed as though he didn't have enough motivation to even finish the action. Even his wings indicated that he wasn't up to the task as they began to curl over him.
You purse your lips as he stays still as a statue. Not even his breathing gave off the fact that he was still alive from that rather hard faceplant, but you knew better than to approach him now. He had done the same thing before when you first started, only to scare you half to death when he suddenly jumped up with an almost too bird-like screech after you'd gotten close enough.
"What's this? One of the top ten heroes in the country is complaining about getting gifts? On his birthday of all days?! If only your public could see you now." You raised your eyebrows and slightly curled your lips, aware that he could at least have a sense of what you looked like even if he wasn't looking directly at you.
Unfortunately, there was no response to your mocking on his end.
Sheesh. He must be really tired.
Usually he would come back with an equally fake surprised response dripped with just as much sarcasm, but today seemed to be one of those days. A day when he would struggle to put on that public image mask and every practiced sentence he let out of his mouth made him feel like a ventriloquist's doll. At least, that's how he described it to you. When you jokingly asked whose hand was up his ass, he responded that it depended on the time of day.
Could you blame him though? He'd been told to come into work on his birthday.
You spotted a bag of Hershey's kisses out of the corner of your eye and placed it next to you, starting your discreet "for me to take home" pile.
It looks like you'll have to give him some extra motivation today, so you try to cast a net.
"Too bad. I was looking forward to giving you my present after your broadcast, but I guess you just aren't in the gift receiving mood."
His wings responded to your statement before his body did, the appendages twitching and slightly uncurling from his frame. He shifted his head to look at you so that his chin rested on the desk, the half curled fist choosing to now lay out at full length on it as well. "You did huh?"
A hook. You made a cautious tug at the line.
"Yeah. I mean it's nothing super special but I just thought you'd like it so I got it for you," you began to mumble, sounding a little more casual than you meant to.
He gave you a neutral look, his eyes shifting to a different part of your person every so often. You can tell that he's trying to put pieces together in his head of what you got him. You knew him by now though, and made sure to not underestimate his keen observation skills. You didn't leave work early or go a different way home when leaving the office. He should have little to no evidence unless he happened to see you around his patrol routes.
“Fine. I’ll bite.”
You watch as he pushes himself away from his spot in the wheeled office chair, losing sight of him for a moment behind the stacks of investigation papers on the desk before he reappears in front of it. You realize he’s getting serious when you notice him slip his gloves off and toss them onto the table.
“Atta boy! Let’s get this done.” You give him a warm smile before turning to put a decent letter in the broadcast pile, failing to see the slight puff of his wings at your pleased tone before he quickly gets it under control. He takes it upon himself to divvy the unsorted pile into half of what it originally was and sits next to you. It's not close enough for the two of you to bump shoulders, but you can feel his feathers occasionally brush against your dress pants when he reaches for another present.
“You know, this would be a lot faster if we had a couple feathered friends do it for us,” You raised your eyebrows suggestively.
Hawks mirrored your raised eyebrows and gave you one of his rare genuine smiles. “Well yeah, but they wouldn’t know which ones you wanna take home.”
Ah, caught in the act…
You’re pulled out of your embarrassment when he presses a pack of Airheads into your palm. “You love these, right? Take 'em.”
“Thanks,” you say and place the taffy candy on the other side of you, your take home pile gradually growing to a decent size.
You both continued the tedious task, occasionally pausing to emphasize an odd present or two. At one point, Hawks even comes across a box in a discrete black package with an unknown sender. He places his ear up to the box, wings briefly opening to half their span before he confidently declares that it's not a bomb.
You’re surprised to see that he closes it as quickly as he opened the plain box, a look of wide eyes and a small smile on his face that just screams “wish i hadn’t seen that today”. His movements look forced and mechanical as he unceremoniously drops it into the bin.
“...I’m just not gonna ask,” you say accompanied with an amused chuckle.
“Yeah don’t,” he responds much too quickly, small pupils and a big grin adorning his face now when he turns to you. Since working with him, you came to learn that this expression is a clear warning sign to drop whatever topic was being discussed. You didn’t see it often since the habit never manifested itself outside of closed doors, but you knew it when you saw it.
There’s not many presents of note after the mystery one, so you start to select the final handful of letters that will make it to live TV.
With the biggest event of the day half over, Hawks stood up from his seat on the floor and raised his arms into the air to stretch. It slightly annoyed him that there wasn't enough space in the room to let his wings fully span out without hitting a wall. Perhaps he’d visit the roof sometime after the interview was over. A large yawn escaped him and he used the palms of his hands to rub away the small tears that came with it.
“You want your second cup now?”
He pulled his hands away from his face to see you looking up at him, awaiting his answer. Your head was tilted slightly back and to the side to look at him and you were still managing that criss-cross sitting position. The cap of your highlighter was in your mouth when you asked the question, slightly impending your speech as you clamped down on the end of it with your teeth.
The word ‘cute’ immediately came to mind at the pleasant sight.
“If you would be so kind, milady” he said while giving you an obnoxiously deep bow, his wings doing a gracious sweeping motion with the gesture before standing again.
You visibly cringed as you rose from the floor and headed towards the kitchenette in his office. “Ugh. Man, please don’t say milady. It makes you sound old.”
“Well, I am older than you.”
“Only by 3 months!”
“Still counts!”