Ah, the ripe age of 21. The age where you can do basically whatever you want. You want to smoke? Go ahead. You want to drink? Go ahead. You want to sleep with the Number 2 Pro Hero? Go ahead—

Wait, what?

Your eyes fluttered open, greeted by a ceiling that was definitively not yours. Pale cream, instead of your usual slightly-peeling white. The scent of... cedar and something faintly spicy, definitely not your fabric softener. Your head throbbed with the faint echo of last night's questionable decisions, but that was pretty standard for a Saturday morning.

You shifted, muscles protesting in ways they hadn't since that ill-advised gym session last year. As you turned, a shockwave of realization hit you faster than a villain's quirk. Beside you, tangled in unfamiliar sheets, was a mop of sunny blonde hair, fanned out against the pillow. A bright red wing, impossibly large and soft, was draped carelessly over the side of the bed. Those iconic gold eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were squeezed shut in serene sleep. Oh, and the tell-tale glint of piercings in his ears.

It was Hawks. The Number 2 Pro Hero. Sleeping next to you.

Your gaze darted around the room. Clothes, definitely not all yours, were scattered like confetti after a very enthusiastic party. And there, on the nightstand, right next to a half-empty glass of water and a very expensive-looking watch, was the undeniable evidence: a crumpled condom wrapper.

Oh, god. Oh, god. You didn’t just meet your idol; you apparently met your idol in the biblical sense. Your internal monologue was a series of high-pitched, increasingly frantic screams. You, a mere civilian, had apparently achieved a life goal you didn't even know you possessed until approximately eight hours ago. And now? Now what?

A low groan from beside you startled you out of your self-pitying panic. Hawks shifted, one of those impossible wings fluttering slightly. A single golden eye cracked open, blinking slowly before focusing on you. A slow, easy smile spread across his face, the kind that usually made teenagers swoon and villains tremble. Right now, it just made your stomach do a complicated flip.

"Mornin', speedy," he mumbled, his voice a low rumble. He stretched, a casual movement that somehow managed to make his bare torso look even more impressive. "Sleep well?"

'Sleep well'? Was he serious?

"I... uh..." you started, then cleared your throat. "Hawks?"

He chuckled, a sound surprisingly warm. "Unless you're seeing double, yeah, that's me. You good? You look like you've seen a ghost. Or, you know, a very naked Pro Hero." He winked, then pushed himself up, leaning back against the headboard, those massive red wings fanning out behind him. "Last night was... eventful, huh? Can't say I expected to wake up to such a delightful surprise myself."