MHA smut

Winging It

Written by: Ajaxthegreat

Summary:

"What is wrong with you," Enji says, and it's a low growl now, and Hawks feels his feathers curl a little at the ends in delight.

He shakes his head again, looks up at Enji with an expression that parodies innocence.

"I'm incapable of controlling myself, for starters," he says, trying for a joking sort of tone and missing it by a mile. His voice is shaking with urgency. He speaks so fast that all his words slur together, making him sound drunk and - unhinged. "I'm a disgusting hedonistic whore, and I should be ashamed of myself?"

______________________________

It starts with a shot of tequila.

It's not Hawks's first shot of the night, but it is a noteworthy one for the simple fact that he does not buy it for himself.

The man who did tips his hat - ew - and Hawks feels the shudder of revulsion at that downright embarrassing fashion choice reverberate all the way to the tips of his wings, even as he winks at the man and downs the whole thing.

It takes about 2 minutes after that for him to end up on the stool next to Hawks.

"Hi."

Ugh. His voice is high, reedy, sort of whiny in a way that Hawks can't fucking stand, but he'd spent the entire week on assignment with fucking Endeavor and he needs to get some - energy. Out of his system.

So he smiles, slow in that way that everyone seems to like, lazy in that way that the tabloids always ask for, and says, "Guess I should thank you, huh?"

The man's half-nervous, half-predatory smile widens a little at Hawks's tone of voice.

"I should be thanking you," he says, lowering his voice to something conspiratorial. "You're the one who saved the whole neighborhood today, Mr. Number Two Hero."

"And here I thought I was lying low," Hawks says, tinkling the ice in his glass.

He hadn't.

"Well, you're hard to miss, Hawks," the man says, and again Hawks feels his wings shiver all the way to the tips in disgust, involuntary. "Even in a dive bar like this one."

"Are you asking me what a girl like me's doin' in a place like this?"

The man laughs, too loud and too quickly, almost before Hawks finishes speaking. Ugh.

God, does he really need to get laid this bad? Hawks could probably snap this guy in half, and that is not his thing.

But it's almost last call, and there's no one else here, and Hawks has spent the entire last week in the presence of his childhood hero and the sole star of his adolescent jerk-off fantasies, fighting villains and flooding himself with adrenaline.

So. Yeah. Looks like he's gonna fuck this guy.

And his .... hat.

"Has anyone ever told you," the Hat starts, and Hawks has to physically make a fist to keep from rolling his eyes, "That you are - strikingly beautiful?"

Of course they fucking have. His face is on a billboard fifty feet tall two blocks away, for a cologne advertisement.

Hawks smiles, shakes his head. "Never," he says, all demure and bashful. He might even manage a blush, with the flush of alcohol in his face. Suckers always love that shit.