#hawksfic

[redseraphimn]

Chapter four art for Makumakuren-an au where Hawks grows up with his mom's quirk instead, drawn by me and written by @occasionalhumor! read it here!

[moonflaregal]

Plushies and Pancakes

Fluff stuff with Hawks.

Word Count: 1224

It had been a rough day for you. Work was tougher than usual, and you were incredibly tired. You practically stumbled into the apartment, flinging your keys into the bowl by the door and making your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

You wasted no time. You didn’t even stop to cry or let yourself think about your day. If you fell asleep, that would be the end of the day. It would be over, and a new day would start. 

The only thing that nagged you was that you desperately missed him tonight. He was out patrolling, flying over the night city, protecting everyone, creating a better life. He was your Hawks, your Keigo, and he was not home yet. 

Fighting your slumping shoulders, you shuffled across the carpet in the bedroom. In the third drawer, behind your red t-shirts, was a small plushy, a mini Hawks. 

You were certain Hawks had never found the mini version of himself, and you intended to keep it that way. It had been easy to search for and purchase. After all, your boyfriend was the number two hero. It would put it all to shame if he lacked an array of merchandise to his name. But, possession of said merchandise was embarrassing, and you knew Hawks wouldn’t let you forget it. 

Just a few minutes, you decided. You would lay down with the plushy for a few minutes, hide it away, and then sleep. Well, those few minutes got extended when you passed out completely, snuggling up to the comforting object.

When Hawks soared in through the balcony entryway at around five in the morning, he sent the majority of his feathers out into the living room so he could slip his jacket off his back. Returning the feathers, he draped the jacket over his arm and sauntered over to the bedroom. 

What he saw melted his heart, and he pushed his yellow shades up, his hair fanning out behind him further. He stood there admiring you, with his feathers rustling as gently as butterfly wings fluttering. His head rested against the doorframe, and his shadow extended out to cover you like a dark blanket.

You were curled up on one side with your knees waist level, and clutched in your arms, Hawks could not believe his sharp eyes, was a miniature version of himself. You remained asleep as he warmly laughed to himself at the sight, and for the next hour or so he was entranced by how peaceful you looked. 

You were an early riser, an early bird, so around six thirty in the morning, you began to stir. You woke up to the smell of blueberry and sounds of murmured cussing coming from the kitchen. 

In a flash, as you realized you had fallen asleep with the plush, you threw it into your drawer, recovered your sleepy morning state, and shuffled out into the living area that was connected to the small kitchen. 

Hawks was there, wings bumping against nearly every surface. He was still in his hero costume, so you assumed that he had come home only a bit earlier. His arms were strong and muscular as he flipped a few pancakes in a skillet. 

“What do you think you’re doing awake, princess?” 

His gentle voice made you swoon as if it was the first day you saw him. You stretched one arm above your head, and the sliver of skin exposed did not escape Hawks’ notice. “Saying hello to you, you big oaf.”

“Oaf?” he joked in higher pitch. “I’m making you your favorite pancakes, and you call me an oaf?”

“Your wings keep knocking over our salt. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thrown it over my shoulder. I vacuum at least four times a week.” 

You moved under his wing, brushing it aside like a curtain, and wrapped your arms around him. “Why don’t you just let your feathers hang out in the living room while you cook? Or better yet, couldn’t they help you hold things?”

“You know I like cooking like this, babybird. I like to savor the time of making breakfast. Using my wings would mean I would get it done in a flash. But, I can flip at record speed with or without them.” 

He flipped more pancakes to prove his point. He smelled amazing, and you drank in the sight of his focused yet leisurely gaze. 

“So, about the mini me,” he said.

“You saw?” you squawked, “B-but you came home late this time.”

“It’s cute, babybird. I find it flattering-”

“It’s embarrassing! I don’t have a plushy of you. I absolutely do not.”

He chuckled, and you felt it rumble through his form like soothing thunder. He moved the both of you over to the counter to deposit more pancakes onto a plate that was piling up quickly. Once the pan was back on the stove, he moved a pinched hand to his lips and mimed sealing them. “My lips are sealed, if that’s what you want.”

You giggled and detached yourself to set up the dining table, which was also your work table, and the taxes table, and the everything table, but you somehow kept it clear most of the time. A feather followed you as you set out plates and silverware and napkins, and it poked you in the back when you stood there for too long. 

“What?” you protested. “I’m just wondering if the green plates are better for blueberry pancakes.”

You could practically hear Hawks tilt his head at you in amusement. “They’re... plates?”

“Yeah, but,” you continued, “I just don’t know if they fit the vibe of morning blueberry pancakes. Do you think the blue ones would go better with them?”

Moving to your side and to set food on both your plates, Hawks raised his eyebrows at you. “Always thinking about those things, hm? Are we?”

“Yes. It is very important, Keigo.” 

It was then that he laughed a booming laugh, and he doubled over beside you. It was the laugh that made you grin like a class-a idiot. 

“I fucking love you,” he said, scooching your chair backward, and then placing himself in his own. 

“I love you too, Keigo,” you said as you took your own place at the table. 

The pancakes were delicious, despite being slightly burnt. No matter how much Hawks boasted about cooking without his wings bothering him, you knew his food always turned out slightly off as a result, but it was always good. Plus, he always made food solely for you. 

Then, he spoke exactly as you shoved a large bite into your mouth. “Where’d you even get the plush thing, babybird? Is that a limited edition?”

Flustered and caught off guard, your face flared up with blush. The best you could manage was a mumbled and muffled, “Mmmmmmfffff mmfmfmr!”

Once more, he laughed loudly, and your heart soared. His wings shook with his shoulders in happiness, and one feather came to mime wiping a tear away from his eye. 

Another feather came to brush your cheek, and you started laughing, too. You nearly choked on your food, and Hawks’ eyes went wide in surprise. But then he started laughing even harder at your struggle. He couldn’t help it. He was just so in love with you.