The clock on your phone confirmed it was just after 5 PM, the sun already dipping low enough to cast long, golden shadows down the street. Your day had been a blur of emails and deadlines, and all you wanted was the quiet comfort of your apartment. You weren't paying much attention to anything beyond the cracked pavement beneath your worn sneakers, the rhythmic thud of your steps a faint comfort in the urban hum. Head down, lost in the gentle current of your thoughts, you approached the crosswalk, ready to step off the curb.

But you never made it.

Instead of the solid ground, a sudden, powerful force enveloped you, and before you could even register the sensation, you were airborne. A gasp caught in your throat as the world spun, the street shrinking rapidly below. A surprisingly gentle yet undeniable grip secured you, one arm snaked around your waist, the other supporting your back, holding you close. The wind tugged at your clothes and hair, an exhilarating rush that stole your breath.

Your eyes, wide with shock, finally darted to your captor. And of course, it was him.

His signature giant red wings beat a slow, powerful rhythm, keeping you aloft. His bright, almost shocking yellow-blonde hair was ruffled by the wind, and his golden eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were crinkled at the corners with a familiar, playful mirth. A truly dumb smile stretched across his face, not unintelligent, but completely unburdened and overtly cheeky, framed by a teasing grin that practically screamed, "Gotcha!"

"Lost in thought, were we, little bird?" Hawks' voice, usually a smooth rumble, was slightly higher pitched by the wind, yet still carried that laid-back, confident drawl you knew so well. He held you effortlessly, your feet dangling a good fifty feet above the pavement, the bustling city now a muted tapestry beneath you. You could feel the solid warmth of his body against yours, the subtle thrum of his powerful muscles.