Wicked Wings (HawksxReader)

Ch. 13 Girl in the Bathroom

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door swinging open. Another woman waltzed in, talking loudly into her phone as she tossed her purse onto the counter. She was balancing putting on lipstick and holding her phone to her ear at the same time, with surprising confidence. You were impressed until you heard her talk. 

"He's hot, but, like, so boring, you know?" she complained into her phone, fumbling with a lipstick that was way too pink for her dress. "I'm thinking about ditching him and finding Red Riot. I heard he's here tonight."

You blinked, resisting the urge to laugh. Wow. What a gem. You almost felt sorry for whoever her unfortunate date was. Almost.

"I know, right?" she continued, rolling her eyes, still talking while half-focused on applying the lipstick. "The wings are cool, though."

Your ears perked up. Hold on.

"But, like," she went on, smacking her lips, "they're kind of in the way all the time, and the red clashes with my outfit."

You stood there for a second, trying to process. Wings? Surely she couldn't be talking about—oh no, she was.

You weren't supposed to talk to anyone, that was the agreement, but in the women's bathroom, would Endeavor even know? 

"But seriously," the girl continued, oblivious to anyone around her, "he talks about himself way too much. Like, okay, we get it, you're a big-shot pro hero with wings. Newsflash: nobody cares. I've met more interesting pigeons."

Your patience snapped. Agreement or no agreement, you'd had enough. 

"Excuse me," you tried to interject politely, but she was too absorbed in her rant and her reflection. "Excuse me," you said again, louder this time, leaning closer and waving your hand.

"Hang on," she muttered into the phone, annoyed, before finally acknowledging your presence. She sized you up with one swift glance. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry to overhear," you said, not sorry at all, "but are you here with pro hero Hawks?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she ended the call with an exaggerated huff, tucking her phone into her purse. "Yeah," she said, crossing her arms like you'd just ruined her entire night. "I am. Why?"

You shrugged innocently, struggling to hide your amusement. "I just heard you mention Red Riot. Were you planning to... you know... ditch your date to go find him?"

Her eyes flickered with a bit of suspicion, but mostly curiosity. "Maybe. What's it to you?"

"I might know where he is," you said, tilting your head just enough to look convincing. You had no idea if Red Riot was even here, but improvising had always been your strong suit.

Her skepticism melted away in an instant, replaced by a spark of interest. "Oh, really?" she asked, her tone shifting to something conspiratorial. "You know Red Riot?"

"I do." You nodded solemnly. "He's my. . . brother."

One lie was as good as another.

Her eyes widened for a second, disbelief flickering across her face. "Wait, for real? You're, like, actually related?"

"Half-brother," you clarified with a casual wave, not caring that it was all a lie. "Different moms. But yeah, we go way back. I helped him through his awkward 'tiny rock' phase."

She stared at you, clearly still processing. "You don't look anything like him."

"Genetics are wild, aren't they? I've got the heart of a boulder though," you said, tapping your chest.