Keigo had been obnoxiously smug all week. Every comment, every brush of his wings, every lingering look—it was all part of the little game you two had going, and he’d been so sure he was winning. Even now, sitting in the restaurant booth with Endeavor and Mirko, he lounged like he had the world wrapped around his finger.

That ended the moment he reached for his wallet.

He flicked it open with that easy confidence—thumb sliding toward his card—completely unaware of the polaroid slipping free. It fluttered downward like one of his feathers and hit the floor with a soft pap.

He didn’t notice.

Endeavor did.

The flame hero paused mid-sentence, giant hand reaching down. “Hawks, you dropped—”

He lifted it.

And froze.

Mirko leaned over his shoulder instantly. “Ooh—what’s this? A secret love note?” She snatched it from Endeavor’s fingers before he could react.

Keigo finally looked up at the tone of her voice, and the color drained from his face. “No—NO NO NO—Mirko, give me that—!”

But Mirko had already seen it.

She let out a bark of laughter so loud the table shook. “Holy—HA! Look at your face! You’re dead. Dude, she looks incredible—damn, you lucky little bird—”

Keigo practically lunged across the table, wings flaring so fast a gust rattled the napkins. “MIRKO. GIVE. IT. BACK!”

But she just held it above her head, grinning like a lunatic, examining every detail you very purposefully left for him: his favorite color lingerie hugging your curves, your hair deliciously messed up against the sheets, your eyes heavy-lidded, that feather necklace he gave you dangling between your teeth as you arched just right for the camera—

Keigo’s entire soul left his body.

Endeavor cleared his throat like a dad walking in on something he absolutely did not want to see. “Hawks,” he rumbled, voice strained, looking literally anywhere but at Keigo, “keep… private matters… private.” His flames sputtered in discomfort.

Keigo finally managed to snatch the polaroid back. He cradled it against his chest like a wounded animal. “I—THIS—IT WASN’T—SHE—oh my god…”

Mirko thumped his back. “Hey, relax, bird boy. If my partner sent me something like that I’d skip the rest of lunch to go home.”

Keigo turned scarlet. “I hate both of you,” he muttered into his feathers, which did nothing to hide how violently flustered he was.

Mirko laughed harder. Endeavor tried to pretend he had gone temporarily blind.

Keigo slid the photo safely—very safely—back into his wallet and snapped it shut like it was a classified document. Then he leaned back, wings twitching uncontrollably, face burning all the way to the tips of his ears.

He pulled out his phone under the table and shot you a message with shaking hands

Baby. What the hell. I can’t be seen in public anymore. I’m coming home the second this stupid lunch ends.

A beat later

Actually… I might leave early. Right now. Immediately. I’m walking out.

A few seats away, Mirko whispered loudly to Endeavor, “Ten bucks says he sprints.”

Keigo glared weakly at them, then shoved his wallet into his jacket and practically melted into the booth, trying to recover whatever dignity he had left.

Spoiler: it wasn’t much.