Persistent Dreams - Hawks x Reader (PAUSED)

Misplaced Emotions 🍊

C/W: Yelling, Anger Outbursts, Angsty but they makeup, Mentions of a Near Death Experience, Making Out, Hints towards sterilization.

Word Count: ~6.9k

______

Unlike the day before, today was an extremely easy day. Not the average walk-ins and rushes you'd become adjusted to. The entire medical ward was empty, and your mind began to..well, make itself busy. And that's an issue, in fact you would prefer it had gotten occupied with sexual thoughts instead. Being aroused at work is a pain but it beats having made up scenarios in your head, calculating worse possible outcomes.

Clipping your pager to your coat pocket, you notify Neomi to page you if they need anything, throwing out that you need to stretch your legs and take a walk.

Having nearly ventured the entirety of Hawks' agency in the little time you've been here: thanks to in house medical issues or...paper cuts. Honestly, you think it was a dumb excuses for them to see the new healer that had been hired.

Nonetheless, your venture through the corridors, wandering aimlessly. Without even thinking you find yourself on the top floor. Blinking at the realization you'd brought yourself to Hawks' office, you shrug and knock on the door.

No answer.

Pursing your lips and furrowing your brows, you open it just to be sure. Low and behold, his office is empty.

Must be out on patrol or investigating...

Sighing silently, you return to wandering around aimlessly. Filling the silence with soft noises and hums as you walk about and bounce down stairwells. It took a while to not have flashbacks while inside them, and frankly they still occur, just less often.

While zoning out by mistake you find yourself slowing down your steps as you come to the first basement level..it's been a while since you've strolled into the gyms. Normally you work out at home, privately.

Lack of stimulation to the mind be damned, so why not, right?

Pushing open the door you walk onto the level, sparing glances at the various training rooms.

Occupied..

Occupied..

Occupi— your eyes catch a glimpse of red and you halt your footing.

Turning your head to stare through the glass, your eyes lay themselves upon your heavenly hero— man— Hawks. You lay your eyes upon..Hawks.

That's odd, I didn't know he trained here..not that I'm going to complain..

It surprises you to see his golden eyes hidden behind a black blindfold, as his muscles charge, flex, and ripple. Hardened feather sword firmly gripped at its hilt, flowing through the air with careful precise force. Inside the room you'd surely hear the sharp swish of it cutting through the air with each swing.

Every movement he takes is with calculated precision, feather sword in hand, he moves back and forth. Almost in a pattern, parry, parry— thrust. Back. Parry–parry— thrust.

He practices with his right hand, though when you've watched him file paperwork his dominant hand is his left. Must be that he needs to maintain focus on his non-dominant arm more.

Still, you watch with innate curiosity and fascination. His feet are steady, and consistent with movement, though if he were attacked at any given moment you're sure he'd keep his balance.

His training outfit is simple. Sweats and a grey tank top. Nothing wrong with it since it'll most likely get thrown in the wash once he's done. As a matter of fact, he is producing quite the amount of sweat.