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colvotte · 3 years ago

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You ever get four hours of sleep and wake up to dawn filling the horizon, and at the first spilling of the rose gold ink of the morning sun onto the roof of every home do you ever wonder what that sun might look like staining the soft cheek of Hawks as he sits on a rooftop, sipping coffee and watching the sun rise? The warmth of the sun and his cup on a humid morning making him squirm, just a little- he'd abandoned his jacket at the beginning of the season, when the first of the cicadas started their singing, but in the long sleeves and gloves of his costume he's still muggy, and he snorts softly to himself, shielding a bit of the sun away from his eyes with a scarlet wing as he wonders if he'd be crowded more doing patrol without a shirt. But, try as he might, he can't imagine the crowds of people jeering at him- he can't imagine the girls cat calling, the elders scolding him to set a better example, the children gawking in surprise or the men who would roll their eyes. No, he truly can't.

All he really can imagine, staring out at the beauty of a waking world receiving the first ink of light from the heavens, is you.

Would you laugh at him, would you scorn him gently upon first seeing him at the agency, and wish him luck on his patrol, it is pretty hot out there being more than an admission, but an endorsement of his childish behavior? Would you watch his wave as he flew off with a humored incredulity, your eyes giving a soft, kind roll? It's a nice image, he does like it, but more of the sun rises, and the rose gold warms the plush cupid's bow of his lips, and he wonders with another small sip of his saccharine coffee if he'd catch you bashful, if the landing of your eyes on his bare chest would send you into a panic, the initial surprise melting from your face and warming the apples of your cheeks. Would you turn away and steal glances? Or would you continue to stare? Would you be bold enough to shrug with a subtle agreement if he made a comment, or would your embarrassment seep into the space between the two of you and widen it as you hurried off with some lie: that it's fine, that he can do what he wants and it doesn't matter, really, you're busy, and so is he, you'll hardly see him.

He doesn't know. And he never will, he supposes, as he makes to rise from the rooftop alongside the sun, he figures that he'll have all day to ruminate on the idea, but beyond that heroes don't have time to fuck around and find out, at least not heroes like him, at least not in that way. His rise into the sky is a slow one. The heat, the humidity of the day weighs on him like heavy dew, and his coffee is almost forgotten, until his phone rings, and he reaches into his pocket to answer.

"This is Hawks."

"Hey bird brain, did you already have coffee?" He can't remember the last time he had a glass of water, but he imagines your voice has the same cooling, refreshing effect. He resolves to himself, the next time he's in a conbini, to go for the spring water.

"Bird brain, that's colorful. I did though, yeah. Why, 'dyou make me some?" A scoff leaves you, with the explosiveness of a geyser.

"Very funny Hawks, I don't get paid to do that, I'm not your assistant."

"I could up your pay for that." You sputter on the other end of the phone. He imagines your flustered scowl, and he can't help the way he soars a little higher in the sky, heaviness of heat and dew forgotten.

"Just to make you coffee?"

"Well and maybe if you'd do my scheduling, so I'd have more free time." To spend with you, goes unsaid, it drifts out and paints itself together with the colors of morning, dashing a different color ink on storefronts and school roofs, some things better left to be seen.

"The commission does that, I thought?"

And with the storefronts and the schools and the abandoned buildings and defunct koban- save for the ones being repurposed for local heroes- Fukuoka looks beautiful, from his vantage point in the sky. If he really squints he can see the ruins of Fukuoka castle, something he's never seen up close, but knows it must be imposing. It must be, as something that once ruled over a city, a people, before a revolution. He flies a little higher, and it gets smaller.

"Yeah I was thinking maybe we could change that. Starting with the coffee." You hum over the phone line and he has to remember that he's supposed to be doing his job, not trying to catch clouds. Crime, with the number two hero stationed in the city and being aligned with the league of villains is rare these days, but keeping his guard up and keeping his mouth shut is what keeps it that way.

"Well sadly I didn't make anything for you. Just... got a wrong order, but they let me keep it. It's... some kind of frap? I thought you might like it, but. If you've had some already I guess I'll try someone else." You were his first call. That truth too goes unspoken, and you both allow it, because the dawn has broken, and it is now day, and there is work to be done.

"But that doesn't sound like a bad idea, Hawks. Maybe I'll take you up on it some other day."

"Mm. Some other day," he repeats with a sickly smile, and you make a sound, bubbling brook, reproachful river. "I mean it depends on how much you pay me."

"Would be an offer you couldn't refuse," he guarantees with a seriousness, and when you hum again, the sound doubtful, and playful, he tastes one, he thinks. He really is high enough to taste the gathered drops of water that cling to the heavens.

Maybe, he muses, maybe after patrol, when he has time, he'll corner you, with the clouds in his lungs, and maybe you'll see them, somewhere in his bare chest.

#this is so cute

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