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There are some things in this world that are hard to let go of, no matter how hard one might try. Sentimental trinkets that tug at all the right strings, resentments that pull taut like scar tissue over wounds long since healed, patterns of behavior ingrained after years of repetition.
Enji has never been a sentimental man, but still he has habits that simply won’t break.
Starting his morning with workouts of the same intensity they’ve always had. Scanning the sidewalks around him as he walks, keeping a keen eye and ear ready for the slightest disturbance. Leaving an hour early for any appointment, preparing for the inevitable distraction that comes with hero work.
Hero work that hasn’t been a part of his life in nearly ten years, yet still he finds himself half an hour early to meet with Fuyumi.
They’re supposed to be getting lunch, Fuyumi squeezing him into a schedule that seems to be increasingly busy with every conversation they have. Despite that, she still speaks as though she’s the one that’s grateful, as though Enji is making some great sacrifice by offering an hour or two of his day.
Time still feels like such a precious commodity, even when Enji’s hands overflow with it. Even as he stands alone on the sidewalk, considering where to pass the extra minutes while he pointedly stops himself from peeking down a nearby alley just in case.
His eyes land on a coffee shop, a small establishment, but with enough space to house him while the time slips away.
The soft tinkle of the bell on the door feels overshadowed by the thud of his own footsteps. Footsteps made louder still by the hush that walks through the door with him, even after all this time.
At least the shop patrons are polite enough to let the room come back to life after a moment of pointed recognition, allowing Enji what space he can take to blend back into the background of their day.
It’s welcome, in a way he never would have expected it to be.
The girl behind the counter is quick and polite as he orders, even as she lets surprise flash on her face when he asks for caramel in his coffee. She doesn’t ask for his name.
He settles comfortably into a booth in the corner, offering a polite nod to the girl when she appears a few minutes later with his coffee. She hovers, for only a moment, as though she has something to say.
But she must think better of it, because when Enji offers a soft “thank you” as she sets his mug down, she gives a short bow and scampers away.
Enji scans the clientele of the shop, unable to stop himself from looking out for suspicious activity. They’re all unassuming enough; there’s what must be a student typing away in a corner, occasionally pausing to sigh into an espresso. A pair of women sit tittering together, exchanging what must be exciting news if the way they clasp their hands together is any indication.
An old man sits alone in the opposite corner, eyes focused out the window at the birds on the sidewalk as he sips his coffee. Not all that different from Enji, really.
The thought makes a part of him itch, but he’s long since learned not to scratch at it.
Enji closes his eyes as he takes a short sip of his drink. There’s the gentle chime of the bell above the door again, and Enji finds the sigh he was about to loose stops dead in his throat.
A man steps into the shop, hair tousled by the breeze and face pink from the chill that’s settling over the city. Bright eyes immediately flit to the menu behind the counter, and red wings give a subtle stretch, as if to drink in the heat now that he’s inside.
Hawks probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
Hawks.
The other patrons of the shop smile at him as he enters, and whatever warmth he’s shown is reflected back twice as bright as he looks around and offers a small wave to everyone. Enji waits for those eyes to fall on him, but they pass over him like it’s nothing at all.
Hawks places his order, the light laugh he gives bouncing through the shop and melding seamlessly into the comfortable atmosphere. Even as he steps aside to wait on his drink, their eyes don’t meet.
He pulls out his phone, absently tapping away at it. Enji finally releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Is Hawks ignoring him?
It’s true they aren’t close in the way they once were. Neither of them had been prepared to see what lurked below the veneer of shared hero work when it came to their relationship.
Time passed, their needs changed, and they drifted apart, as so many things do. So Hawks doesn’t owe Enji his time.
But sitting here, with Hawks only steps away, with Hawks sharing a space with him for the first time in years, Enji feels his fingers twitch in anticipation. Hawks should be looking at him, he should have Hawks’ attention. He had always had Hawks’ attention.
Unless those feathers have deteriorated far more than Enji had thought possible, there can’t be a way that Hawks isn’t aware that Enji is here. Which means he must be ignoring him.
Is there a reason for Hawks to be ignoring him?
It’s not as though they had a falling out. Enji had always anticipated that when they ran into each other again, as they so surely would, that Hawks would be, well, excited to see him. Not making a point of averting his gaze.
Frustration must be what makes his heartbeat kick up as Hawks is handed his drink. Enji doesn’t think when he slides his chair back to stand, but the sound must be enough to warrant Hawks’ attention.
The air leaves the space between them when Hawks meets his eye. Neither says a thing, and Enji feels certain he could reach out and pluck the tension like the strings of an instrument long out of tune.
He manages to gesture to the empty seat across from him.
Hawks smiles, all of the warmth he had offered to the strangers in the shop instead focused on Enji alone, and then tension shatters.
“Endeavor-san! Fancy running into you here.”
He slides into the seat, not breaking eye contact as he sits. Enji feels like he ought to smile, but the expression feels unnatural where it brews under his skin. He should, at least, say something.
“It’s not,” he stops himself, tries to find the bearings he lost. “It’s just Enji, now.”
“I guess it is, isn’t it?” Hawks scoots his seat forward, ruffling his wings as he settles. “It’s nice to see you, Enji.”
“It’s nice to see you too, uh—”
“Still just Hawks,” he drums his fingers on the side of his cup. “Can’t let go of everything.”
Hawks looks at him for a moment, Enji easing into the once familiar feeling of being studied. He’s sure he and Hawks are one in the same right now, taking stock of all that’s changed, everything that doesn’t quite line up with what memory tells them.
The face across from him looks more tired now. Faint lines are starting to appear around Hawks’, though none too noticeable when you’re not looking for them. The scar that creeps up the side of his jaw has dulled with time, far less angry than when they were last together.
Enji’s eyes linger on it for too long, until a new emotion is threatening to lodge in his throat.
“Never thought I’d see the day you’d start to go gray,” Hawks says, breaking the silence.
“You and I both,” Enji replies, and the snort Hawks gives does more for Enji’s nerves than he’s willing to admit.
“The fuller beard is nice though.”
“I see I’m alone on that front.”
Hawks barks out another laugh, rubbing his chin when he regains his breath. “I think it’s part of my charm.”
“Of course you do,” this time, the smile comes easy before Enji can notice it. He does notice the flick in Hawks’ wings when he says it.
“As ruthless as ever, I see,” Hawks says. “Although your sense of humor has aged like wine.”
“I’m glad something has.”
“Enji, please, give yourself some credit! I always thought nothing could look quite as good on you as that hero suit did,” Hawks says, pulling his drink closer for a sip. “But retirement suits you.”
Enji scoffs. “You’d be the first to say it.”
Hawks smiles, and the years seem to have sanded it down into something soft, no more of the sharp, teasing edge Enji had come to know.
“I can’t imagine it’s been easy for anyone to let go of the idea of Endeavor. ”
“Easier for some than others.”
“And for you?”
Enji taps a finger against his mug. “I had expected it to be harder.”
Hawks’ eyebrows raise at that, and Enji almost wants to chuckle at how much Hawks looks like a startled bird when he does it. He had forgotten just how deep those similarities run.
“It was an adjustment,” Enji sighs. “But there was a lot about Endeavor that was best left to the past.”
Enji watches as Hawks’ eyebrows settle back down, expression melting into something that’s altogether too fond for Enji to look at directly. Had Hawks always looked at him like this?
Had Enji ever let himself look back long enough to tell?
“You’ll never fail to amaze me, Enji.”
It’s Enji’s turn to look on in shock, although he quickly schools his expression back into something more neutral. Years out of the public eye have deconditioned him to this sort of unsolicited praise. Not that it was ever something he heard often.
More than anything, it’s the sincerity written so plainly on Hawks’ face that throws him.
“What do you mean?”
“Every time I think I have you pegged,” he says, unreadable smile still in place. “You go and surprise me.”
“Maybe you should stop assuming you know me,” Enji bites back. The temper is a reflex, an echo of the past that surprises Enji when it slips out. But Hawks only smiles wider, just as delighted now as he was the first time he pushed Enji to snap.
He’s always seemed to enjoy getting under Enji’s skin. He’s had a talent for it too, there’s nobody in this world who could more reliably set Enji off.
It’s because Hawks does know him, has known him for as long as Enji can remember. Hawks has always been able to take him apart so plainly, and even as tired lines start to appear around his eyes, the flash of gold is as sharp as ever.
Once he sees it, it’s hard to look away.
Enji catches himself, clearing his throat. “How have you been? I can’t imagine it’s been an easy adjustment.”
Hawks shrugs, sweeping a hand through his hair. “I can’t complain. I’ve certainly had time to kill!”
He laughs, a hollow thing, but Enji can’t bring himself to dig deeper into it. This isn’t the place, isn’t the time.
“It was harder than I thought, at first,” he continues, finally looking away from Enji and down at the table. “I guess when you’ve been busy every minute for 24 years, it’s not an easy adjustment to have time to kick back.”
“Do you miss it?”
Hawks puts his elbow on the table, propping his chin in his hand. “Do you?”
Enji doesn’t bother addressing his evasion. “No.”
There’s that smile again.
“Me either.”
They sit like that for a moment, eyes locked as Hawks idly stirs his coffee. When Enji finally looks away, he steals a glance at his watch. It’ll be time to meet Fuyumi soon. He ought to get going. A part of him doesn’t want to, the same part of him that purred to life when he first saw Hawks walk in the door.
He must be able to tell what Enji’s thinking, because Hawks is up and scooting his chair back before Enji can say a word.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” he laughs, extending his arms above his head in a stretch. “Tell the kids I say hello.”
He gives a little wave, turning to leave as Enji stands. The sight of his back makes something inside Enji’s stomach lurch, and he isn’t thinking when he reaches out a hand to grab Hawks’ wrist.
“Hawks, I,” Enji fumbles over his words, taken aback by his own urgency. “We should do this again.”
Something in Hawks’ eyes lights up, and Enji feels that lurch again when he sees Hawks’ wings give the tiniest flutter. He nods.
“Yeah, okay. I didn’t know you missed me that bad, Enji.”
He’s trying to tease, Enji can tell. But he can feel the way Hawks’ heartbeat picks up under his hand, Enji hanging on to his wrist just a moment too long.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Enji throws back, but his reply lacks any heat.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hawks’ smiles, but something in his eyes falls as he finally pulls his wrist away. “Text me, yeah? My number never changed.”
Ice creeps into Enji’s veins, even as he answers.
“I will.”
Hawks gives another wave, turning and walking out the door. Enji watches his back as he goes, watches the way his wings instinctively pull tight to his body when the cold air hits.
–
Things have changed with time, as they inevitably do. There was a time, Enji recalls, when he would have regretted impulsively holding on to Hawks. Where he would have tried to brush it off, pretend it never happened.
Enji sends a message to Hawks that same night.
It was nice to see you again.
The exact sort of honesty that had always evaded Enji, even as a man who so strongly valued candor. Hawks’ answer is quick. His speed hasn’t changed.
It was nice to see you too, big guy
Enji can hear the way that Hawks would say it. The teasing bounce the message would end on. When’s the last time anyone has addressed him like that?
Was it ever anyone but Hawks?
Plans are made. Just like that, as simple as a few messages passed back and forth. When all is finalized Hawks tells him to have a good night, wishing him sweet dreams.
The sleeping thing in Enji’s chest stirs.
–
The days creep by as they always do, until a week has passed and Hawks is due at the estate for dinner.
It had felt like the safest option. Even now, dining in public leaves Enji feeling like an ant under a magnifying glass. He can only imagine that Hawks must feel a similar way. On a normal night, Enji might push through it.
Something about tonight feels too important to allow for that.
Not that there’s anything special about the plans. At another time, passing the evening like this would be normal for them. Perhaps not in Enji’s home, but he and Hawks have exchanged enough meals over time that it shouldn’t stand out.
It’s the space between. The stretch where such a thing stopped being typical, now finally coming to a close. It ought to feel normal, but normal isn’t what it once was.
Enji has spent the last hour cooking, the last day cleaning, the last week changing this and that to try and reforge a lonely estate into somewhere worth visiting. It’s been fine to live in, comfortable even. But if the empty halls are to be Enji’s penance, they needn’t loom over Hawks in the same way.
Not now.
When Hawks finally arrives, Enji nearly startles. Always when he’s with Hawks his own reactions surprise him, taking a breath to clear his head as he greets him at the door.
The sun hangs low outside, the chill in the air painting Hawks’ cheeks a red that matches the scarf wound around them. His smile shines through despite being covered, apparent in the light in his eyes and the puff of his wings as he steps inside.
“Crazy to think this is my first time coming over here, huh?”
“You never had much reason to visit,” Enji holds out a hand to take Hawks’ jacket as he slips out of it, and Hawks meets his eyes as a feather sweeps the jacket up and into the closet.
Instinctively, Enji wants to swat at him for being a pest. But Hawks is laughing, and the sound echoes through the empty estate, and the fire in Enji’s chest flickers out as fast as it came to life.
“Man, you should see the look on your face,” Hawks laughs. “You forget about the wings?”
He gives them a perfunctory flap, and that urge to swat returns.
“I didn’t forget them , I just—” Enji huffs, trying to collect himself. “Please come inside, Hawks.”
Hawks kicks off his shoes and follows Enji down the hall, unrelenting in his teasing. “You’ve really worked hard to get that temper under control, huh?”
“And I see you’ve done no work on becoming less annoying ,” Enji fires back.
“Yet you invited me over anyway,” Hawks teases. Always with the teasing.
The agitation it inspires wraps itself around him like an old sweater, nearly comforting in its familiarity. Their rapport is so easy, if a little rough around the edges.
It feels different from the coffee shop, closer to what Enji had known their relationship to be. It’s right in all the ways it’s wrong, and trying to think about it makes a different, much darker frustration curl low in his gut.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Enji mutters, gesturing Hawks into the dining room.
“Alwa—oh wow. ”
Enji had been uncertain if Hawks’ tastes had changed, but neglected to consult him about the menu for the night. Upon realizing it the day of, his solution had been to make a small variety, hoping something would be to Hawks’ tastes.
Hawks’ wings flutter as his eyes rove over the sea of dishes on the table. It’s possible Enji overprepared, but the look on Hawks’ face tells him he’s done perfectly.
Satisfaction, and something deeper, hum against Enji’s ribs.
“I thought you’d appreciate having options,” he says, taking a seat at the head of the table next to Hawks. Hawks is already scooping food onto his plate, feathers dancing around the spread as he gathers a little of everything.
“Color me impressed,” Hawks says, popping a shishido into his mouth. “I wouldn’t have pinned you as a chef.”
“I’ve had to cook for myself for a while,” Enji answers, preparing his own plate. “No point in hiring a cook for one man.”
“I’ve been cooking more myself too, although I confess I’m still a glutton for takeout.”
“Seems like that’s not the only thing you’re a glutton for.”
Hawks pauses in the middle of shoveling rice into his mouth, choking out a laugh.
“You know me well.”
Enji lets himself smile at that. He likes to think he does. Or did, once.
“So you’ve been cooking more,” Hawks says around a full mouth, pausing to swallow. “What else have you been getting up to?”
It’s not an easy question to answer. Enji’s current routine is one forged over several years, and even then it’s…lacking, in a way Enji hasn’t been able to put words to.
It turns out, he wasted a lot of time not developing any real hobbies in the past.
“I’ve found ways to pass the time,” is the weak answer he provides. “I’m learning how to rest.”
“You never were much good at that.”
Hawks smiles, and Enji can’t help but mirror it.
“No, I wasn’t.”
There’s a comfortable lull, the two of them quietly eating. For all the time Enji had spent overthinking this evening, a natural rhythm settles back in. The clink of their dishes fills the space of the estate better than he could have hoped.
“What have you been up to?” he finally asks.
“A little of everything, I guess,” Hawks says, shoveling another bite of food into his mouth. “I pick up projects here and there, I still get asked to do promotions all the time.”
He gives Enji a dark little look at that, not that Enji has to wonder why. It had been a long haul trying to shift the idea of heroes out of the public eye like they once were. The main reason both of them, and so many others, had taken a step back after the war was to make that transition easier.
But it seems like nobody in Japan is quite ready to let go of the Wing Hero just yet.
“It’s a shame they never seem to learn, but I’m trying to use my powers for good. Been doing some side promoting for some of the smaller restaurants and stalls I like, and it seems like business has been booming lately,” Hawks picks up a bowl to take a swig of soup, punctuating it with an appreciative gulp. “Surprised you haven’t seen any of them.”
It’s true that Enji hasn’t, not that it’s a surprise to him. Enji’s avoided all of Hawks’ social media for a while now. It always felt like peering in a window on a distant life, one that he was trying to move past.
One he needed to stop looking towards.
Still, hearing about Hawks’ most recent pastime certainly explains some things.
“You promoted that okonomiyaki place downtown, didn’t you?”
Hawks’ eyes light up the moment Enji asks. “Yeah, two weeks ago! How’d you know?”
“The lines have been terrible lately,” Enji sighs. “It never used to be this bad.”
“You still go there?” Hawks puts down his food for a moment, and Enji catches a flutter of red behind him.
He nods.
“The food’s good, and the atmosphere’s comfortable. Or it was,” he gives Hawks a look.
Hawks laughs, just as Enji hoped he would.
“I just can’t believe you still go there, that was—”
“The first place we ate together when you were in town,” Enji finishes. It sounds wrong as soon as he says it, like something of a confession he’s unwilling to make. He clears his throat. “I still go to several of the places you showed me.”
Hawks still isn’t eating, laser focused on Enji now.
“You never seemed too excited when I’d show you places. I’m surprised.”
“I’ve got more time now,” Enji says, trying to keep the tone light. “And I’ll admit you’ve always had good taste.”
There’s that flutter again. Enji can’t tell what Hawks must be thinking as he continues to stare up at him, until finally Hawks lets a little smile slip out.
“I suppose I have, haven’t I?”
Enji snorts, because of course Hawks would continue to flash this facade of ego. Hard to break habits, and all that. Meanwhile, Hawks blinks, quickly scooping up another dish and stuffing his mouth again.
“Ya go’ any dr—” Hawks starts to speak with his mouth full, giving a sheepish swallow in the face of Enji’s unimpressed look. “Is there anything to drink?”
Enji immediately stands, surprised at himself for forgetting to put out anything. Where has his head been?
“Water, tea,” Enji lists off, stepping towards the kitchen. Hawks interrupts.
“Got any beer?”
Enji rolls his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Lucky for Hawks, Enji knows there’s a few bottles sitting in the back of the fridge. Enji’s never been much of a drinker, and he’s always favored something a little stronger and a little less heavy, but he’s come to enjoy having one every now and then.
It’s clearly worth it when Hawks look up at him in absolute delight when he returns with two bottles in hand.
“Apologies for not having drinks out sooner,” Enji says, popping the top off his bottle.
Hawks waves him off, using a feather to open his own before taking a cheerful swig. Seems like almost everything he’s doing tonight has been cheerful.
“Don’t worry about it. Hey, cheers!” He tilts his bottle towards Enji, and Enji chooses not to remind him that a toast typically isn’t done on the second drink from a bottle.
The glass clinks.
“To overdue reunions,” Hawks chirps, tossing the bottle back again.
Enji takes a deep drink, Hawks’ words settling in his stomach just as heavy as the beer. Hawks doesn’t push the idea any further though, and Enji finds them melting back into comfortable conversation soon enough.
They talk about a lot of nothing. Hawks regails him with tales of what other former-pros have been up to, they swap anecdotes about countless little moments that have cropped up in the last decade. Like so much Hawks does, they pass the time quickly, although Enji barely has half a mind to check the clock.
It’s not as though they have anywhere to be.
By the time Hawks has helped Enji clear the table, still chattering away and gesturing emphatically with another bottle, the sun is far from the sky. Moonlight stretches lazily across the floor of the kitchen as Hawks watches him wash the dishes from where he’s perched on the counter.
Enji isn’t even certain what Hawks has been going out about, whatever his story is mixing with the clink of the dishes and lulling him to a place that’s nearly meditative. Until Hawks mentions a name that does actually get his attention.
“I was just telling Tsunagu the other day, it’s really not that hard—”
“How is he?” Enji asks, and a familiar ache twists in his chest.
There was a time where Tsunagu was nearly as attached to his hip as Hawks was. Two of the only people who had seen the worst of what Enji had to offer and still saw something worth standing next to.The three of them, nigh inseparable, just them against the world.
Enji doesn’t miss it. Not all of it, at least.
“Oh? Tsunagu? He’s been great! Picked up a tailoring gig, seems like he’s really been happy with designing some things too. We try to stay in touch.”
Enji nods, eyes focused down on the suds in front of him. Of course they’ve tried to stay in touch. The two of them always seemed to have an easy rapport, and Enji’s certain that Tsunagu is just as responsive as Hawks would have been.
If Enji had ever bothered to reach out.
Hawks’ voice is quiet when he speaks again. “I guess I’m not the only one who got the cold shoulder when the flames went out?”
A glass slips from Enji’s hand, splashing as it lands back in the sink. Suds splatter his shirt, the water immediately cool against his stomach.
He shakes his head, and his answer tastes like an excuse.
“I tried to take a step back.”
Enji doesn’t look at Hawks, in the same way that he hasn’t for a long time. But he can feel Hawks looking at him. Can feel the weight of those eyes that have looked at him for a long time, and he feels all the smaller for it.
“From everyone?”
“From the hero world,” Enji mutters, scooping another dish up and starting again. “I wanted to focus on my family.”
It’s weak, even if it’s the truth. When the war had finished and the world had finally started to heal, Enji was ready to let go of his past. To finally free his family of Endeavor once and for all, and that meant all the things that came with him.
Like Hawks.
If Enji has been lonely, then that’s the cost of atonement. A small price to pay in the face of all that he’s caused.
“How’s the family doing, anyway?” Hawks asks, pulling Enji back out of his head and back into safe territory. This Enji can think about.
“They’re all doing well. The kids seem happy living with their mother. She’s been working part time at a shop downtown, Fuyumi says she’s been thriving there. The kids have all been successful in their careers, Natsuo and his wife are expected their second—”
Enji doesn’t realize how much he’s been saying until Hawks cuts him off. “You see them much?”
“As much as they’ll have me,” Enji says, placing the last of the dishes on the rack and draining the sink. “Natsuo has made it clear he wants his distance, and all I can do is respect that. Shouto is often busy…Fuyumi tries to make time.”
“That’s a long way to say no ,” Hawks says, and Enji feels his temper flare before Hawks can speak again. “You ever get lonely?”
The way that Hawks is so easily able to read him makes that familiar feeling in Enji’s gut twist low again. Not that it matters, not that Hawks would be able to understand it. He’s not here to play therapist.
No, that’s not what he’s here for.
Enji doesn’t answer, turning instead to begin slowly drying the dishes. Hawks’ eyes continue to burn a hole in his back.
“I do, you know. Granted it sounds like I’ve led a much more active social life, but it’s hard,” Hawks’ voice is soft, almost distant. “Hard to get close to people who don’t really know. ”
“It was our job to make sure that they didn’t know,” Enji mutters.
“It’s also hard,” Hawks continues, as though Enji hadn’t said a thing. “To let all of it go, you know?”
Enji turns to look at him. “I thought you said you didn’t miss it.”
“I don’t,” Hawks cocks his head, a challenge dancing in his eyes. “Not most of it.”
Hearing Hawks echo his own feelings has Enji putting down his task, focusing back on the conversation.
“But some?”
“It was all I knew for a long time,” Hawks says, something in his tone stretching the distance between them again. “How can I go about life now pretending none of it happened? That none of it mattered?”
“Of course it mattered,” Enji bites, leaning against the counter. “But it’s not just about—”
“You know I used to look up to you, right?” It feels like an accusation. “You were the whole reason I wanted to become a hero, you were everything I wanted to be for so long.”
Hawks says it like he’s looking for a fight, and Enji’s nearly tempted to meet him. But the weight behind Hawks’ words slows him down.
“You were the whole reason I was who I was,” Hawks is talking faster, but Enji can’t get enough of a grip to rein him in. “God Enji, you were at the center of my world for so long, and then you were just gone. ”
His words crash over Enji like the tidal wave they are, dragging him under as soon as they hit. Had he known?
Of course he did. Enji was no fool, knew the way that Hawks looked at him in the moments when he thought Enji wasn’t looking back. Hadn’t that been part of why he had to take a step back?
Hawks had been so enamored with Endeavor the hero, and Endeavor the hero couldn’t exist anymore.
The distance couldn’t have been more intentional. Sure, there were other reasons why Enji had needed to take a step back from a lot of things. But Hawks had always been different, right from day one.
“I’m sorry, Hawks, I—”
“I don’t know if I really believed we were going to make it out of that war,” Hawks picks at the label on the bottle in his hand, sighing. “And my biggest regret coming out of it was not asking you for more.”
Enji ignores the thud of his heartbeat. “And why didn’t you?”
“Would you have said yes? Then?”
Hawks is staring him down, boring through years of walls like they’re made of paper. Enji wants to give a different answer, but honesty is all he can manage.
“...No.”
A mirthless laugh, punctuated with a swig of beer. “Can’t blame a guy for protecting his feelings then, can you?”
“I suppose I can’t.”
“I was more afraid of losing you at all than I was of losing my chance,” Hawks continues, every word cutting right to Enji’s core. “And then for a while there, I thought I had lost both. I guess it’s my fault for not reaching out to you either though, huh? But I knew you wanted to prioritize your family, and I didn’t want…”
He trails off giving his head a small shake. If there’s still air in the room between them, Enji can’t seem to breathe it.
“I’ve never been good at prioritizing. Not where it really matters.”
Hawks gives another half-hearted laugh. “I guess we all have our weaknesses.”
His wings droop against the counter, and he sets the now empty bottle down next to him. He plants his palms on the counter, clearly about to hop down, and something in Enji can’t bear to let his feet touch the floor.
As though Hawks may walk away, and Enji will go right back to life without him. Which he had thought was fine, right until he’d had a taste of having Hawks back again.
“I missed you, Hawks.”
It stops him immediately, Hawks looking at him dumbfounded. “What?”
“I missed you,” Enji repeats, and it’s like he’s feeling it for the first time when he lets himself say it. “More than I’d like to admit.”
Hawks rolls his eyes, incredulous. “I missed you too. If it wasn’t obvious.”
“I’m sorry for not saying something sooner. I should have—”
Hawks interrupts him. “We both could have. Maybe you would have surprised the both of us.”
He gives Enji a weak little smile, and Enji can’t pretend he doesn’t know what Hawks means. What he’s always meant, what he’s always known to be true about himself, and what Enji suspects he’s always known about him too.
Truthfully, he doesn’t know what he would have done. Would he have ignored it, let the time slip away?
Did he have to burn that time to realize what a waste it was?
“We’re still here, y’know.”
Hawks seems smaller when he says it, like he’s shrinking into himself. Enji feels his heart pick up again.
“What do you mean?”
He gives a little shrug, the apathy of the gesture undercut by the dance of something so much more in his eyes. “We’re still around, it wouldn’t be too late to…”
“Do you know what you’re asking for?”
He knows Hawks does, in the same way that Enji knows. His gaze doesn’t waver at all when he looks up at Enji.
“There’s nothing you could give me that I wouldn’t take.”
The dam breaks.
Hawks’ cheek is warm under his thumb, and his lips are warmer when Enji brings them against his own. He’s ready for Hawks to back away, to regret, but Hawks only exhales and leans in closer.
It’s slow, gentle. Enji keeps the heat roiling inside to himself, keeping the kiss something chaste. Tries to make it mean something. He puts years of unspoken words, of unfelt feelings, into the way he draws Hawks in close.
It’s right. It’s perfect, and it’s everything Enji hadn’t been ready to admit was missing.
When he pulls back Hawks is smiling, and their eyes meet for only a moment before he speaks again.
“Nope, you get back here,” he whispers, tangling a hand in Enji’s hair and pulling him back in. The heat flares again, and Hawks hums his satisfaction when Enji deepens the kiss.
Soon, Hawks is squirming against him, warm and eager in all the right ways. The kiss gets messy, more frantic, and Enji can’t seem to stop. He’s suffocating in it, but he’d be content to never take another breath if his last had gone to Hawks.
Flames lick up from his shoulders, and Enji tilts back to exhale steam as he feels it burn through his sweater. Years of control down the drain in an instant, and Hawks only seems egged on by it.
“Shit, that was,” he leans back on the counter, running his hands over his pectorals. “My god Enji you really never stopped working out did you?”
Enji shakes his head. Hawks continues pawing at his bare chest, seemingly mesmerized by the sight in front of him.
For a moment, Enji considers holding back. But Hawks gives a cheeky little twist to one of his nipples, and Enji decides that ten years of holding back is already more than enough.
“Oh yes, ” Hawks hisses into Enji’s mouth when Enji hoists him up by his thighs. “I always hoped you’d be able to pick me up like it was nothing.”
“It’s not exactly hard.”
“Mmm fuck yeah it isn’t.”
They make it down the hall somehow, Hawks latching his mouth onto whatever inches of Enji he can get it on.
When Enji drops Hawks onto the bed and climbs over him, he’s immediately yanked down into another bruising kiss.
“I meant it before,” Hawks whispers against his lips when they part again.
“Meant what?”
A cheeky smile, and Hawks hooks a leg around Enji to pull him down and bring their bodies together. “That I’ll take anything you can give me.”
Enji answers him with a pointed grind of his hips, smiling at the catch of Hawks’ breath. “If you’re so sure.”
He slides a hand under Hawks back, slipping it under his shirt and threading the base of his wings between his fingers. A shudder rolls through Hawks’ body at the contact, and Enji looks on, mesmerized.
“Is this the part where you give me some corny line about how you thought I’d be better off without you?” Hawks quips, leaning back to catch his breath. It reveals a broader stretch of his neck, and Enji allows himself the indulgence of leaning in to press his lips against it, smiling when he feels Hawks’ wings flutter between his fingers.
“You do look good now,” Enji hums, trailing downwards and nipping Hawks’ shoulder. “Maybe I was right.”
Hawks grabs his jaw then, pulling Enji’s head back until they’re looking eye to eye. “I don’t wanna hear it from you, Enji.”
Enji responds by petting a little deeper into Hawks’ feathers, captivated by the shudder Hawks can’t seem to stop when he does it.
“Alright.”
He shifts Hawks off his lap, ignoring the squawk of protest that comes as he slips backwards off the bed.
“Now don’t you— oh ,” Hawks cuts off as Enji sinks to his knees, using one hand to slide Hawks’ shirt up and licking a hot stripe over his abdomen. Enji uses the hand still on Hawks’ back to pull him in closer, and Hawks squirms as Enji continues to drag his tongue and teeth across his core.
Each press of his lips, each pass of his tongue, is an apology, a promise. Hawks turns to putty in his hands as Enji earns his forgiveness, loosing a pleased groan when Enji finally slips his shirt off.
Enji slides his hands around Hawks’ waist, allowing himself a satisfied smirk before hooking his fingers into the top of Hawks’ pants. Hawks flops backwards onto the bed with a manic little chuckle, giving Enji a weak thumbs up as he lifts his ass to help Enji slide off his pants.
He has his mouth back on him in an instant, laves his tongue over cotton as breathes in the scent that’s so truly and overwhelmingly Hawks. It’s better than Enji had ever imagined, because of course Enji’s imagined this exact scenario time and time again, and he’s drunk on the freedom of letting himself acknowledge it.
As always, Hawks exceeds expectations. He gives another weak groan as Enji shifts his attention to place a sloppy kiss against his inner thigh, not wasting time in urging Hawks’ briefs down.
“Always straight to business, aren’t you?” Hawks breathes out, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at Enji.
Enji holds the eye contact as he drags his tongue up the length of Hawks’ cock, relishing the way Hawks’ expression shatters as he does it.
“Shit, Enji,” he whispers. Enji hums his encouragement, leaning in so he can properly take Hawks into his mouth.
It feels right when Enji slides his hands under Hawks’ ass to guide his cock in, slinging Hawks’ legs over his shoulders. It’s easy to find a rhythm, slowly bobbing as Hawks melts in his hands. Hawks squirms above him, squawking when Enji does something particularly clever with his tongue.
“Your mouth is so— fuck, ” Hawks hisses, shooting upright so he can practically curl over Enji’s head. “Your mouth is so hot.”
Enji looks up at him through hooded eyes, giving a pointed suck. Hawks’ legs tighten where they’re wrapped around Enji’s back as he shudders.
“You’re gonna have to let up, big guy,” Hawks pants, pulling Enji’s head back. “Unless you’re planning on having a really short evening here, shit.”
Enji pops off his cock with a smirk, immediately cupping a hand behind Hawks’ head so he can lean up and lick Hawks’ own taste into his mouth. Hawks meets his enthusiasm tenfold, groaning into the kiss.
Enji’s so swept up in it he doesn’t notice the feather until it’s plopping a small bottle onto the bed. He gives Hawks a pointed look, but Hawks just picks up the bottle and presses it to Enji’s chest.
“Can’t fault a guy for having hopes,” he mutters, curling his lips into a smile against Enji’s. “And I wasn’t wrong, was I?”
“Confident as ever,” Enji murmurs. Hawks just laughs, fading into a sigh when Enji nudges him back onto his back. “Will you be okay like this?”
“Such a gentleman,” Hawks laughs. “I’ll be fine, my wings are made of pretty tough stuff.”
Hawks brings his knees to his chest, parting them with a coy little smirk. It leaves him entirely on display, and Enji pauses to take it in.
Every inch of Hawks is perfect, in all the ways that Enji has always known he would be. The look on Hawks’ face says he knows exactly what Enji is thinking.
“What’re you waiting for?” He teases, giving a light kick to Enji’s shoulder.
Enji isn’t waiting for anything. Not anymore.
The lube is cool against his fingers as he coats them, not that it stays that way for long. It’s warm by the time Enji is circling Hawks’ entrance, hot as the sensation roiling low in his gut by the time he works a finger inside.
Hawks’ body grips tight around him, and Enji surges forward to tangle their lips once again as Hawks adjusts.
“Mmm. Your fingers feel even bigger than I thought they would,” Hawks breathes against his lips. Enji smiles.
“Thought about them a lot?”
“You know it,” Hawks wiggles his ass a little, licking his lips. “You’ve—ah, shit—you’ve exceeded all expectations.”
The reminder that Hawks has wanted this as long as he has, that he’s probably wanted it even longer , pushes Enji to slip in a second finger. The groan Hawks lets loose vibrates right against Enji’s bones.
Enji takes it slow, feels out all the little ways he can turn and twist his fingers to take Hawks apart. And Hawks is so responsive, so vocal. Empty halls echo with every gasp and groan Enji pulls from him, and he’s not sure why he ever found comfort in silence.
“Come on,” Hawks groans, giving another petulant kick. “I’m good, I can take it.”
Enji pulls his fingers out slow, and Hawks hisses as he’s left empty. His eyes go wide as Enji stands and undoes his belt, finally shedding the last of his clothes.
“Fuck, you really are perfect, aren’t you?” Hawks says, more to Enji’s cock to than to him. Enji rolls his eyes, crowding back over Hawks and dragging more lube over himself.
Hawks clings to his back, digging his nails into the meat of Enji’s shoulders as he begins the slow slide in. It takes all of Enji’s restraint to slip in easy, mind gone foggy with the squeeze of Hawks around him.
The frustrated little whine Hawks makes as Enji drags it out is more than worth the patience. By the time Enji bottoms out, Hawks is squirming again, wings attempting to flare where they’re pinned on the bed.
Enji tilts his head back to breathe steam at the ceiling, feeling his temperature run higher than it has in years as he feeds off Hawks’ heat. When he looks down again, Hawks gives him a bleary nod.
Enji fucks him slow and purposeful, savoring the drag out and grinding in deep. Hawks clings to him harder, wrecked moans being pulled from him every time Enji pushes back in.
It feels too right, being together like this. When they’ve always been such a part of each other, when Hawks is still so much a part of him.
Enji presses his lips against the scar on Hawks’ jaw, against the mark that he might as well have made on him himself. He knows Hawks played his own role in the one that cuts down Enji’s face, although Enji would never thing to blame him.
But they’ve carried each other’s marks for a while now, in a thousand small ways, and what is this moment if not the culmination of that?
“Did you ever—ah, did you ever think about this before?” Hawks gives a shaky smile, rolling his hips to try and match Enji’s thrusts. It snaps Enji back to the moment.
“Not like this”, Enji huffs, punctuating with a deep, slow grind. He leans in closer, placing his lips against Hawks’ jaw. “Although I would imagine other things.”
“Care to share?”
Enji rolls his eyes, giving a particularly hard thrust of his hips that he hears punch the air from Hawks’ lungs. “Is now the time for stories?”
“Mmm why not,” Hawks purrs. “Your voice is sexy, sue me.”
“I’d think about bending you over my desk,” Enji whispers, finally starting to pick up the pace. Hawks breathes out a yes as Enji continues. “Or having you against the windows of my office, fucking you until I could get that mouth of yours to stop.”
Hawks licks his lips at him again, a devilish little smirk dancing on them. “Try me, Number One. ”
Enji stops holding back. He slings one of Hawks’ legs back over his shoulder, as much as his smaller frame will allow for it. The new angle has Hawks singing his praises with every thrust, the slap of their skin the only thing loud enough to drown out the sound of Enji’s heartbeat.
When his moans start to pitch high Enji takes mercy on him and wraps a hand around his cock, matching the pace of his hips.
Hawks is beautiful when he comes, body stretched taut and wings flared. Enji leans in and brings their lips together, and the kiss is soft and sloppy as Hawks slowly comes back down to earth.
Enji starts to pull out, stopped when Hawks weakly wraps a leg around his back again.
“Come on, you’re not done yet,” he breathes, tone dazed but eyes as sharp as ever. “I can take it.”
Enji picks right back up, moves his hips quick and dirty while Hawks clings to him for dear life. His knees are nearly up to his ears now, but he keeps pulling Enji closer, tugging him into another kiss when Enji kicks the pace up even further.
He sighs right into Hawks mouth as he comes, pressing as deep as he can. His arms are shaking from holding himself up, or something else, but it doesn’t matter, even when Hawks slings his arms around Enji’s neck and hangs from it.
“C’mon,” he whispers, shifting his legs. “Roll over.”
Enji rolls onto his back, slipping out of Hawks with a groan. Hawks follows, stretches out sweaty and sticky against Enji’s chest. It’s disgusting, and wonderful.
For a moment, the only sound between them is the uneven pace of their breath as it slowly returns to normal.
“I’d say that was worth the wait,” Hawks finally says, giving Enji a warm look from where his chin rests on his pecs. “Frankly, I don’t think I would have gotten anything done if I had known that was on the table sooner.”
“You would’ve found a way to make it work,” Enji answers, petting a lazy hand back into Hawks’ feathers.
Hawks chuckles, and Enji falls in love with the way it feels right against his sternum. “You’re probably right.”
Quiet slips back in, Enji lying with his eyes closed as he idly pets through Hawks’ feathers. He’s nearly drifted off to sleep when Hawks speaks again.
“This is real, right?”
Enji cracks an eye open, and Hawks looks down at him with a fear Enji doesn’t quite recognize.
“You’re not going anywhere this time?”
Enji wraps his other arm around Hawks, pulling him in close and burying his face in his hair. The kiss he places there still feels forbidden somehow, off limits in all the ways that it’s tender, but Enji’s earned a broken rule or two.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he mutters. “And I’d like it if you didn’t either.”
“Oh you’re stuck with me now,” Hawks says, tone giddy. “We’ve got a lot of time to make up for, I think.”
Enji is the one to smile into the kiss this time.
“And we’ve got plenty of time to do it.”