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Feathers on Glass
The Musutafu skyline sparkled under the late afternoon sun, a maze of glass towers that Hawks usually navigated with his signature swagger. His crimson wings beat steadily, propelling him toward Endeavor’s agency for a last-minute strategy meeting. The Number Two hero was late, distracted by a text from Tokoyami:
Sensei, my patrol tamed the twilight’s shadows. Your wisdom guides my abyss.
Hawks smirked, typing back:
Laying it on thick, kid. Keep ruling the dark.
His eyes were glued to his phone, missing the gleaming window of Endeavor’s office -
THUD!!!
The crash was a glorious fiasco - glass rattling, feathers fluttering, and a startled squawk as Hawks slammed into the window of the room where Endeavor sat.
Inside, Endeavor froze mid-paperwork, pen clattering, his jaw dropping in sheer disbelief. The Number Two hero slid down the glass like a Looney Tunes reject - wings splayed, making a faint squeegee sound, leaving a trail of crimson feathers. The pane held, but Hawks crumpled onto the narrow ledge, head spinning, phone skittering beside him.
“What in the - ?” Endeavor muttered, staring at the feathered heap. Hawks, the epitome of aerial grace, had just flown into his window like a disoriented sparrow. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Shaking off the shock, he yanked the window open, flames off, his voice booming.
“Hawks, are you kidding me?”
Hawks blinked up, golden eyes dazed but flashing a grin to hide the mortification scorching his chest.
“Yo, Number One, just...stress-testing your window. A+ for durability.” He tried to sit up, wincing as his wing twinged. Crashing in front of Endeavor? Kill me now.
Endeavor’s scowl was half-disbelief, half-concern, his flames absent, leaving his rugged features sharp in the sunlight.
“You’re a moron,” he growled, leaning out to check Hawks’s ruffled wings and the red welt on his forehead. Texting, no doubt...the fool’s vice. “Don’t move. You’re hurt.”
“Me? Hurt? Pfft, just a warm-up,” Hawks quipped, his voice light despite the ache in his ribs. However he kept the charm dialed up, refusing to let the embarrassment show. “Gimme a minute, I’ll be back to dazzling.”
Endeavor ignored the nonsense, stepping through a side door onto the rooftop garden, a quiet nook with ferns and a view of Musutafu’s sprawl. Without his flames, he was still imposing, his presence warm in the late-day chill. Hawks tried a cocky wave, but his wing cramped, making him grimace. “Okay, maybe I’m temporarily parked.”
“Unbelievable,” Endeavor muttered, kneeling beside him. His large hands, warm but not hot, checked Hawks’s shoulders with careful precision, avoiding his sore wing. His eyes lingered a moment too long on Hawks’s face, a subtle flicker of something unspoken. “You’re a top hero, not a brainless bird. What distracted you?”
“Tokoyami’s poetic rants,” Hawks admitted, sheepish, his grin faltering. He yelped as Endeavor’s fingers brushed his wing, testing for sprains. “Easy, those are my money-makers!”
Endeavor grunted, his disbelief softening to concern, his warm hands steadying Hawks’s wing. “Hold still.” He scooped Hawks up, one arm under his knees, the other behind his back, careful not to crush his wings. Hawks’s breath caught, Endeavor’s warmth soothing his aches.
Crashing in front of Number One. Stellar move.
“Bridal carry? Bold move,” Hawks teased, voice strained but playful. He tried to shrug off his jacket, but a sharp yelp escaped as pain stabbed his shoulder, jarring his ribs. The jacket fell, revealing his rumpled flight suit and a bruise on his arm.
“Stop squirming, you’re making it worse,” Endeavor snapped, carrying him into the office. His tone was gruff, but his grip was gentle, his arms warm without a hint of flame. He set Hawks on a leather couch, the stark office softened by his presence. “Take it off slowly,” he said, nodding at the half-off jacket.
Hawks winced, easing the jacket off with another pained yelp, his face burning with embarrassment. “Not my smoothest day,” he muttered, forcing a chuckle. His wings twitched, and he avoided Endeavor’s gaze, hating the rookie mistake laid bare.
Endeavor grabbed a first-aid kit, kneeling to inspect Hawks’s forehead. His warm fingers dabbed antiseptic on the welt, the gentle heat easing the sting. “You’re lucky you’re cute, because you’re a complete bonehead of a pigeon,” he said, voice deadpan, his eyes glinting with rare humor.
Hawks’s mouth popped open, ready to fire back. “Bonehead?! I’m a national treasure!”
...but Endeavor pressed a finger to his lips, shaking his head slowly, a clear shut up. Hawks froze, his retort dying, a flush creeping up his neck at the contact. He stayed quiet, heart racing, Endeavor’s warmth lingering on his lips.
Endeavor pulled back, checking Hawks’s side for tenderness. “No blood, but you’ll bruise. Dizzy?”
“Nope, just my rep’s in tatters,” Hawks said, his smirk shaky, the embarrassment gnawing. He hid it, but his wings trembled, betraying his unease.
Endeavor’s scowl softened, his hand resting on Hawks’s shoulder, warm and grounding. “You’re a bonehead, but not a failure,” he said, low and firm, as if reading Hawks’s doubt. “You smashed into my window and still have the gall to talk. That’s something.”
Hawks cracked a grin. “Almost sounds like you like me, Number One.” His one flirty jab slipped out, masking the vulnerability, but his eyes held gratitude - and a hint of something more.
“Be still,” Endeavor said, softer, his fingers brushing Hawks’s arm as he draped the jacket over his shoulders like a blanket. The contact lingered, warm and careful, a subtle sign of his own unspoken pull. “You don’t need to prove anything. Not to me.”
Hawks’s throat tightened. The Commission demanded flawlessness, but Endeavor’s gruff care cut through the noise. “You’re not bad at this medic gig,” he murmured, leaning into the warmth, his wings relaxing. The humiliation faded, soothed by Endeavor’s presence.
Endeavor huffed, a faint amusement in his eyes. “Your secret’s safe. No more windows.” His hand stayed near Hawks’s, fingers brushing on the couch, neither pulling away. The warmth wasn’t fiery, but it sparked something quiet.
They sat in silence, the office bathed in sunset light, Musutafu’s skyline beyond. Hawks’s pain dulled, softened by Endeavor’s care.
“Y’know,” he said, voice low, “if I had to crash anywhere, glad it was your window.”
Endeavor’s eyes flickered, softening. “Next time, use the door, Hawks.” His voice was gruff, but the lingering warmth felt like a promise. Hawks’s smirk widened, heart lighter, the ache in his wings fading under Endeavor’s steady care.
As the city lights blinked on, Hawks rested, Endeavor beside him, a bond kindling.