Work Text:
Hold Still
The fluorescent lights of the corner grocery store buzz overhead as Hawks struts through the aisles, wings tucked to avoid knocking over a display of instant noodles. Endeavor trails behind, his flames flickering with barely contained irritation, his scowl hot enough to melt the linoleum. Their mission starts in an hour, and Hawks insisted on this detour for “essentials.” Endeavor’s patience is already thinner than the store’s discount flyers.
Hawks grabs a basket, tossing in a half-dozen energy drinks - garish cans labeled “Thunder Volt” and “Nitro Buzz.” He glances at Endeavor, who’s glaring at a shelf of protein bars like they’ve personally offended him.
“Yo, Enji, blue or red? Blue’s got more caffeine, but red’s got that zesty kick,” Hawks says, smirking with a sly grin.
Endeavor grunts, arms crossed. “Just pick something and move.” His voice is a low growl, but Hawks chuckles, dropping both cans in the basket. “Red it is. Matches your vibe: hot and grumpy.”
At the checkout, Hawks adds a small carton of eggs, earning a raised eyebrow from the cashier and a deeper scowl from Endeavor. “Eggs? What are you, running a bakery now?” Endeavor snaps as they exit, bags in hand.
Hawks winks, tucking the carton under his arm. “Never know when you need a protein boost, big guy. Stakeouts get hungry.” Endeavor mutters about “birdbrain nonsense” and strides toward the alley where they’ll set up for the mission. The street is quiet, save for the hum of traffic and the rustle of Hawks’ feathers.
Outside, under a flickering street lamp, Hawks stops. “Yo, Enji, hold still,” he says, his tone playful but sharp. He sets the bags down and steps behind Endeavor, who’s already bristling.
Endeavor halts, shoulders stiff. “What now? We’re wasting time!” he barks, but he stays put, sensing Hawks’ rare serious edge. “This better be important, or I’m -”
*Crack.* A cold, wet sensation hits the ridge of his shoulder blade, just below his neck, where there is a small muscular divot and his costume leaves a sliver of skin exposed. He freezes, eyes widening. “Did you just...crack an egg on me Hawks?” His voice is a dangerous rumble, flames flaring as he starts to turn.
“STAY STILL!” Hawks yells, wings flaring. “Don’t you dare move, Enji! You’re gonna get egg all over yourself!" He bosses him around like he’s lecturing a messy kid.
Endeavor’s face twists into murderous rage, flames surging hot enough to distort the air. He wants to strangle Hawks, mission be damned. “You insolent little pigeon,” he snarls, fists clenched so tight his gauntlets creak. “I’m going to end you for this. What on Earth do you think you're doing?!” But he stays still, jaw clenched, because the idea of sticky yolk dripping down his back keeps him frozen - barely.
Hawks hovers behind, one hand on his phone’s timer, the other steadying a feather to keep the yolk from sliding. “Cooking, duh,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Your shoulder’s the perfect hot plate - nice and toasty, right around medium heat. Gimme...90 seconds for a sunny-side-up. Gonna be delicious.” He pulls out small packets of salt and pepper, and lightly sprinkles both of them all over Endeavor.
Endeavor’s eye twitches. “You’re a walking health code violation, and I’m two seconds from turning you into fried chicken. We’re on a mission, you lunatic!” suddenly, he hears a faint sizzle. The smell of cooking egg wafts up, and he grimaces, rage simmering as hot as the egg.
Hawks hums, ignoring the threats. “Shh, don’t scare the egg, Enji. Timing’s critical. Too long, and it’s rubbery. Too short, and it’s snotty. You’re doing great, hot stuff. Okay, turn your heat off for a sec.” It makes Endeavor’s flames flicker in irritation.
“This is humiliating,” Endeavor mutters. “I’m the number one hero, not your stovetop. Hurry up!”
“Patience, Eggdeavor,” Hawks chirps, checking his timer. “Ten seconds...annnd...done!” He leans in close, breath grazing Endeavor’s neck, and slurps the perfectly cooked egg off his shoulder, the sound obnoxiously loud. His lips linger a fraction too long, a teasing hum escaping as he pulls back, licking yolk from his lips
Endeavor spins, flames roaring, his face a mix of incredulous fury and disbelief. “You did not just put that straight in your mouth,” he says, staring at Hawks like he’s grown a second head, voice dripping with outrage.
Hawks, unfazed, tilts his head and opens his mouth suggestively, sticking out his tongue to show it’s empty, a slow, deliberate move that screams mischief. “Swallowed it all, big guy,” he says, voice laced with a teasing drawl, one eyebrow raised. He turns away, stifling a laugh with a hand over his mouth, his wings twitching as he mutters to himself. He’s surprised at his own boldness, a flush of amusement warming his face, but he keeps his cool, tossing a grin over his shoulder.
Endeavor stares. Flames surge like they’re about to engulf the alley.
“Relax, it was organic! And you should be proud of yourself: you cooked it to perfection. C’mon, stop wasting time...we’ve got smugglers to catch.”
Endeavor glares, wiping the sticky residue from his shoulder with a look of pure disgust. “You’re lucky we have a mission, or you’d be a charred feather pile,” he mutters, storming toward their stakeout spot. But as he walks, he catches Hawks’ smug grin and shakes his head, a grudging huff escaping.
The kid’s an absolute lunatic.