Chapter Text
As Hawks' personal assistant, you knew a lot about him.
You knew how much he loved chicken, which wasn't exactly confidential information. However, you knew which place he liked the most, which was a hole in the wall joint on the far end of town, owned by a lovely elderly couple, and not exactly easy to get to. Even now, almost two years later, you still weren't over the way his eyes would light up when he realized you had gone out of your way to get him not just food, but his favorite.
You knew that Hawks looked good in the color red. This wasn't particularly surprising, since he wore that color on his back in the form of twin, feathered wings, and had pierced his ears with rubies. It was a beautiful crimson shade to compliment his lightly tanned skin and bright blonde hair. However, in the case of your job, it was relevant to know what colors to pick when he needed to dress nice for an interview.
You knew that Hawks wasn't very fond of cars, partially because his wingspan didn't make it a comfortable experience. But, he also seemed to not do well in tight spaces, leading to the conclusion that he was a little claustrophobic, which you didn't press. Everyone, even heroes, had their limits, and there was nothing wrong with that. Besides, it seemed fitting for someone who could fly.
You knew that Hawks was a hard worker. It wasn't uncommon to see him pushing 30 hours without sleep, running on caffeine and spicy chicken legs. He didn't wear it on his face; but, he didn't take failure very well. Even if he didn't make it obvious, you saw him enough to recognize the subtlest gestures beneath the facade he wore: a carefree persona that faded behind closed doors.
While Hawks put on quite the performance for the media, being his assistant, you saw a side of him most didn't. He was quite humble, surprisingly, always paying you back for things you got for him, never running out of please's and thank you's, even though it was your job to attend to his needs.
Being a hero's personal assistant was very different from secretary roles you had in the past. One would think that a hero would be far more demanding than a high profile lawyer. But, Hawks didn't ask for ridiculous things or call you on your days off unless it was an emergency.
He didn't tell you to lie on his behalf or throw you under the bus, either.
He always gave thanks where it was due. It was your job, yes, but he appreciated good work, and knew how important it was to let people know they were doing well. The reports you wrote for detectives on his behalf were flawless, perfect grammar and all the right lingo. You handled the press startlingly well, especially when cases when south.
Hawks was high spirited, easy going and downright silly at times, but that didn't mean he didn't care. As you came to realize, it was just how he handled things, how he kept a grip on his emotions, and prevented others from digging in too deep. It was his way of making others feel safe, that he approached situations as if there was no real danger. It wasn't that different than Almight always entering the scene with a smile.
The relationship you had developed over the years was professional, mostly. Hawks wasn't the kind to rule with an iron fist. He trusted people to do their job without needing to be babysat, and got rid of them when they betrayed that trust.
After working for him for two years, it was inevitable something personal would rise up. Being let in on every horrifying detail to the kind of missions he took, multiple hospital visits and several car rides when he had exhausted too many feathers to fly safely.
It was how you learned so much about him, even miniscule things that probably wouldn't mean anything to anyone else. Hawks had let it slip that he admired heroes every since he could remember. He didn't say it; but, you knew, by his demeanor and agency affiliations, that he admired Endeavor the most.
Hawks wasn't one for watching TV, but loved to read, especially work on heroism and the impact it had on society. He liked classic rock and jazz, especially the indie stuff, and typically spent his money on up and rising musicians as opposed to big stars.
It was all stuff that the media would eat up. Sometimes, you wondered if Hawks did it on purpose to test you. You didn't keep it to yourself because he was your boss, but because you respected him. As a hero, or as a friend, maybe a bit of both.
Perhaps it was idolization, considering he was a top ranking hero. Maybe, it was respect for how persevering he was. Or, perhaps, you were secretly crushing on the young hero, struggling to resist his charming smile and beautiful, avian eyes. But, whatever the reason, you found yourself constantly going above and beyond for Hawks.
Today was another one of those days.
He had called you on a sunny Saturday morning. It was around 8AM and you were still in bed, huddled up in the blankets with the blinds closed because you had failed to get any proper sleep the night prior.
It was a bad time. You weren't yourself, and needed the weekend to unwind. He wasn't insistent, and even gave you multiple opportunities to decline, ever so patient and sweet on the phone; yet, you didn't decline.
Besides, he said it was just a few hours... You could handle that.
The agency was never packed, not even on the weekdays. Hawks had a busy schedule and a lot of missions to go around. He wings to the sky than being cooped up at the office, and hired heroes with the same go-getter attitude. You anticipated a quiet afternoon and then could scuttle home.
However, much to your dismay, Hawks was there when you arrived. He had likely worked all throughout the night, considering the grease in his hair and indents on his face, left by his visor. Even with the slight smell of sweat lingering on his skin, Hawks still smelt good. Or, maybe, it was your muddled thoughts.
You sank into your desk chair like it was a puddle of slime, trying to hold back a flinch when he walked by, overwhelmed with the irrational thought that he was going to lash out at you.
Even though he wasn't particularly loud, you jolted a little when he suddenly started talking.
"Thanks for coming in. Can you look over this case file and let me know if I missed anything?" he asked, stepping away for a moment to retrieve something from the filing cabinet, most likely the police report.
You took a deep breath and adjusted your positioning, forcing yourself to sit upright in your chair.
"I told the commissioner to give it a rest, but you know how they-"
You blinked carefully and tilted your head to look up at Hawks, realizing he had stopped talking when he turned around and looked at your face.
You were well aware of the bags under your eyes and the dark tint on your eyelids from a night of crying. Your nose was probably a little swollen, too; but, you had managed enough makeup to make the redness less obvious. Hawks would likely just think you were hung over. That's what a normal person would think.
Startling you a little, Hawks tossed the folder onto the desk in front of you and suddenly zipped away, boots skidding along the tiled floor as he trotted quickly across the hall. You watched his retreating back, wondering if you had grossed him out.
Geez. You knew Hawks was dramatic, but still.
Instead of waiting for him to return, you opened the folder and began scanning the document. You read the first paragraph once and immediately forgot it. Of course, you were experienced enough to know it was the summary set by the case worker, and should have been easy to follow. You tried again and realized you were reading, yes, but not actually absorbing any of the words.
You set the document down and leaned back in your chair with a loud huff, reaching up to your face with trembling hands.
"Come on," you thought to yourself, patting your cheeks gently. "This is the best job you've ever had. Don't fuck it up over-"
Hawks returned, his boots noisy against the tiles as he approached. You saw the gold trim of his jumpsuit and then his extending arm. He offered you a bottle of green tea, which you didn't even think to reject, as if it was a perfectly natural thing. It was chilled with just a bit of sugar, and refreshing as you sipped it obediently.
The winged hero knelt down onto his haunches by your chair and watched you drink it. His hand dipped into the curve of your inner elbow, gloveless, you realized immediately. His palm was big and warm, fingers long. He definitely could encase your entire arm in one hand. You stopped drinking halfway and hiccupped, realizing you were on the verge of tears.
Oh no-
"You did really good," Hawks whispered, his voice a tone you had never heard before.
What-
"Finish that. Okay? For me?" he continued, hoarser than he had been a second ago, soothing and gentle, almost pleading.
But why-
You didn't hesitate to do as he asked, finding it startlingly rejuvenating; deliriously, you realized it wasn't just the drink making you feel that way. Hawks immediately took the empty, plastic bottle from your hand when you finished, his other hand still cupped around your arm. He set it down on the floor in a hurry.
"It's okay. You're safe. Take a deep breath for me," he continued, his voice low in a whisper, rumbling from his throat.
Again, you found yourself obeying without a second thought, hands clawing at the fabric of your pants where they covered your lap. Your eyes squeezed shut as you breathed in and out, deep and slow, like he asked.
"You did so good," he uttered again in that melodic voice
You felt Hawks' hand release your inner elbow. His palm slid down your wrist and curled over your hand to gently remove it from where it was clutched tightly in your lap. He squeezed at your fingers, drawing them between his larger digits, and you finally realized-
-he was giving you after care.
You gasped, embarrassingly loudly, and whipped your head towards him, eyes flying open. Shame was written all across your face, from your parted lips and wide eyes, gawking at the soft expression across Hawks' handsome face.
"Oh my god," you wheezed, ripping your hand away from his to clutch it against your chest.
You lowered your head in a shameful bow, until your hair covered your face. "I'm so sorry, Hawks. I-"
"No," he answered, firmly, cutting you off. "It's not your fault."
"L-look, I j-just drank too mu-" you explained in a haste.
"Your dom let you drop," he corrected you. His statement was accusatory and frightening in tone.
You didn't dare lift your head and look at him, trembling with embarrassment. A normal person would have assumed you were hungover or maybe sick. The implication that Hawks participated was a lost thought. You were too busy hounding yourself over letting your boss of all people find out.
"You did nothing wrong," he continued, voice fierce and clearly angry. Yet, there was some restraint, making it evident he wasn't mad at you. "No one - no matter what - should ever leave you like this. I'm sorry for crossing a boundary, but-"
You whipped your head up and immediately locked with Hawks' bright gold eyes. He looked angry, but also sad, his brow lowered and his lips tight. His visor was propped up on his forehead and his headphones were around his neck, reminding you that this was indeed the same happy-go-lucky man you knew, had worked for for years. Yet, there was something in his eyes you had never seen before.
"You didn't - I - I shouldn't have come in like this. I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to-" you stammered away, struggling to maintain contact with his patient eyes.
He didn't have to. Of course not. Yet, the winged hero, your boss, your friend, had this look in his eyes like he most certainly did. Out of obligation or kindness, you couldn't quite tell.
"Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong," he repeated, firmly.
Maybe you hadn't. You couldn't really contest that. The scene didn't end well. It happened sometimes, and not all doms handled failure very well. You had left without receiving aftercare, figuring you would be fine. This was what you had signed up for, wasn't it?
"Do you feel better?" he asked, directing the conversation back to his intention.
"Yes," you answered softly. "I feel better. I'm so-"
"Stop apologizing," he scolded, gently, but firmly. "What happened wasn't your fault. I don't care if you were the worst fucking sub in the world, you don't skip aftercare, ever."
"How did you even know?" you dared to ask, dragging your dominant hand across your eyes as if to stop yourself from crying before it even began.
The winged hero huffed out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a quiet laugh. "The background check you consented to for the job included a credit check, your purchase history is on that. Seven is discreet, but..."
Hawks trailed off, and it became obvious. Seven always appeared discreet on credit card statements. Along with their lesser known sex toys, the company owned clothing lines and bath products. If he knew, then that was because-
-he shopped there, too.
The fact that he had imposed on you seemed to shadow in comparison to what he had just admitted to you. Hawks was a hero. His image secured his position at number 2 and ensured police agencies called. What you did behind closed doors didn't matter. But Hawks...
When you peered at him again, said hero was still kneeling by your chair, wings curled elegantly at his back, sticking out at either side of him at the bend. He had a sort of all-knowing smile on his face, like he couldn't hold it in. It wasn't judgmental or teasing. Rather, it was obvious he was well aware that he had just confessed something about less-than-stellar about himself to his assistant.
"I'm sorry for finding out about your - well-" you offered him with a sad smile.
"It's alright; but, I know how you can make it up to me," he suggested, smile fading.
Your smile faded, as well, briefly fearful that he would bring up the very detailed and threatening nondisclosure agreement you had signed. Surely, after all this time, he wouldn't think that you would betray him?
"Stop seeing that dom," was what Hawks said. It was firm, a demand, not a suggestion.
You swallowed, teeth clenched and eyes nervous. To try and find a new dom was frightening. Even if he wasn't perfect, you had been together for awhile now and knew each other's desires well.
But, it had gotten to the point that the sessions were cutting into your real life. If Hawks was anyone else, he would have fired you for letting such a thing interfere with work. This second chance had nothing to do with partaking himself; this was out of kindness.
"O-okay," you replied hoarsely. Fearing he wouldn't take that seriously, you added on immediately, "I understand. Thank you, Hawks. Can we - can we work on this?"
He blinked, and the dark expression was gone as if it had never been there in the first place.
"Are you sure? You can go home," he offered.
"No. I need the distraction," you retorted, somewhat firm and somewhat pleading.
He stood up and leaned against your desk in the same way he had many times before, replying, "okay", and suddenly, everything was back to normal.
At least, it should have been; but, you were struggling to get that look on his face and tone in his voice out of your mind.
He was your boss-
-and you didn't even know what he liked.
Besides, he was just being nice and you were vulnerable.
It meant nothing.