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The remnants of the HPSC had sent invitations that explained the countrywide gatherings as a semi-official way for groups of heroes, ex- and not, to celebrate what they'd gained in helping to win the war, and to share with each other information pertinent to the work sorely needed in its aftermath. The privately encrypted and even-less-official addition sent by Acting President Mera read: PS Bring your own booze or whatever doesn't interfere with your medication. And don't break anything. at least not outside the conference rooms. plsszzzzzcvwgcyirfhu6
At some point before falling asleep on his keyboard, he'd sprung for really good and heavily loaded snack platters, and renting couches and bean bags. In one gathering it had helped to keep the balance of celebration and commiseration on the lighter side ... and somewhat regrettable.
"You think I could have an ass now that I don't have a quirk?" Hawks said as he gazed at the ceiling as he nestled in a bean bag, then blinked heavily and looked over to one of the couches. "No offense, Edgeshot, I know I'm way ahead."
"What the fuck?" Mt Lady complained, and Edgeshot wiggled the finger he'd regrown so far at Hawks. Importantly, the group had hyped him up earlier that a single finger was a great thing to regrow first, because you could pretend any gesture was innocent while fully meaning it as a middle finger to annoying comments.
"You'll have to patch your thought process together for us, I fear," Jeanist said, willing to give Hawks benefit of the doubt - his mood most likely helped along by Edgeshot having chosen to spend a lot of the evening curled around his wrist. Meanwhile, Endeavor looked between the empty glasses and bottles around Hawks and the stash of drinks still available, assessing whether to remove Hawks's current drink or push over a few more so he could finish himself off.
Hawks flapped a hand at his own back. "No feathers anymore, right? I've still got the hawk-eyes and my born-with-it Maybelline, but that might fade too. If it all goes ... so could the bird legs!"
He hauled a leg up to put on the low table to his side. A couple of people decried the unsanitary action, others leaned in as he pulled up the baggy trouser leg to reveal ankle and a span of calf.
Mirko slapped the table (everything rattled) as she laughed. "How do you walk on those sticks? You're almost worse off than I am!"
"Shut uuuup, I'm sensitive about missing out on hitting peak twink. Could do squats all I liked, barely did my drumsticks any good. They'd never bulk up, or out... "
"There, there," Jeanist said, "the wonders a wingspan did for your shoulders remain."
Hawks still pouted ostentatiously. It was more a joke than not, though he was very much in the process of coming to terms with having lost his quirk; still, Endeavor's frown ticked deeper than his default.
"As if you need to worry about your looks," he said. "Your core is in incredible shape too."
The hush was loaded. All Might glanced towards an untouched champagne bottle and wondered about proposing a toast for one of the most awkward announcements of a romance in Japan's hero history, or if that would be even more awkward. Then Hawks just barely avoided screeching when he asked, "Incred-?! What-- How the hell would you know?"
"Don't act like I've peeked or something." Endeavor made to cross his arms with a dismissive snort, ending up looking slightly defensive with the one arm across his chest. "It's obvious. You spent years essentially doing aerial planks for hours each day. In terms of core strength, you'd give me a run for my money."
"Extremely generous!" Kamui Woods muttered like he was unable to help it.
"No, I'm serious. I'd be interested in getting readings." Endeavor wheeled forwards a little, like the interest demanded immediate action. But of what kind?
"And here I'd have said I was putting a lot of thought into my fellow heroes' builds," Mt Lady said with the innocence of a devil. Hawks, tugging his shirt down with crossed arms as if to guard a long-lost virtue (until a better and more private time!), didn't know if he hated her or owed her more drinks for leading Endeavor on a conversation about workout routines, laden with all the innuendo she thought she could get away with.
"Wow, un-peak twink," Mirko whispered as she sprawled over the table towards Hawks. "You're going to have to do missionary if you want to show off when you seduce him. Is it really worth it?"
She looked over his red face getting redder as he continued to stare at Endeavor, and wondered if his hair had birdy qualities too - it looked like it might have poofed up like feathers in reaction.
"I see, it'd be worth it once a day and twice on Sundays?" Mirko announced, and the two of them provided the party's next eye-catching incident with a race between her clunky interim prosthetic and his skinny bird legs.