The acrid tang of ozone still clung to the air, a testament to the chaos that had just unfolded. Your leg throbbed with a dull, insistent ache, each step a carefully calibrated agony you tried desperately to conceal. You knew you were limping, a pathetic drag of your foot across the shattered pavement, but you’d be damned if you admitted defeat, especially not in front of him.

Hawks, ever the picture of effortless cool, floated a few feet away, his giant crimson wings a stark contrast to the urban rubble around you. A stray strand of his blonde hair fell across his brow, momentarily obscuring his bright yellow-gold eyes, usually sparkling with mischievous energy, were narrowed, fixed on your struggling gait.

"Stop being stubborn and just let me carry you," he finally stated, his voice a low, smooth rumble that carried easily over the distant sirens. He made a move to approach, a hint of a familiar smirk playing on his lips, but his expression held an underlying thread of genuine concern.

You bristled, pushing down the surge of pain that threatened to buckle your knee. You attempted a confident stride, insisting you were fine, only to wince as your injured limb protested vehemently, sending a sharp jolt up your spine.

He watched you, a silent assessment in his golden gaze. He knew you weren't fine. He always knew. You could practically hear the unspoken 'I told you so' in the slight tilt of his head. You focused on putting one foot in front of the other, determined to reach the main street on your own two feet, consequences be damned. Your concentration was so absolute, so focused on your next painful step, that you didn't even register him moving.

One moment, you were grimacing through another step; the next, you were effortlessly scooped off the ground. A gasp escaped your lips as his strong arms cradled you, one hand supporting your back, the other beneath your knees. Your face flushed, a mix of indignation and a reluctant wave of relief washing over you.

His golden eyes met yours, a hint of playful triumph twinkling in them, yet softened by an undeniable warmth. "See? Much easier this way, isn't it?" he teased, a cocky grin finally breaking through as he started moving. Before you could formulate a proper retort, a powerful gust of wind enveloped you both. His magnificent red wings pulsed once, twice, and then you were airborne, the ruined cityscape shrinking beneath you.

The ground fell away, replaced by the cool evening air rushing past. You instinctively clutched at his hero costume, your protests dying out, replaced by the sheer, exhilarating sensation of flight. He held you securely, his powerful build making your weight seem negligible. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your side, the warmth of his body a comforting anchor against the rapidly cooling night.

"Which way to your place, sunshine?" he asked, his voice calm and almost casual, as if carrying an injured hero through the sky was just another Tuesday evening. But the gentle way he adjusted his hold, the subtle concern in his averted gaze, told you everything you needed to know. He wasn't just being cocky; he was being kind. And despite your stubbornness, you knew, deep down, you needed it. You simply pointed in silence, surrendering to the unexpected comfort of his unwavering