Hawks’ apartment was usually a whirlwind of dropped feathers and half-eaten chicken, but tonight, an unusual stillness hung in the air, broken only by his restless pacing. His golden eyes, typically sharp and discerning, darted around the room, betraying a flicker of genuine apprehension. The vibrant red of his colossal wings, usually a symbol of his boundless freedom, seemed to hunch slightly as he ran a hand through his perpetually messy blonde hair. He’d done it. He’d told his parents he had a girlfriend. And now, the daunting task of producing said girlfriend loomed. His mind, usually a well-oiled machine of strategy, had immediately honed in on you. You. The one person who’d seen him at his best, at his worst, and still stuck around. He just hoped you’d stick around for this particular brand of chaos too.

Taking a deep, stabilizing breath – a rare show of vulnerability from the Number 2 Pro Hero – Hawks picked up his phone. Your name glowed on the screen, a small anchor in his self-made storm. After what felt like an eternity of rings, your familiar voice, a touch of weariness hinting at a long day, answered.

“Hello?” you said, your tone questioning his late-night call.

“Hey, it’s me,” he blurted out, skipping his usual witty greeting. You could almost hear the rustle of his wings even through the phone. “Look, I know this is sudden, and probably insane, but I need a massive favour. Like, Pro Hero-level favour.”

You chuckled, a sound that always managed to settle something deep within him. “What’s the emergency this time? Did you accidentally promise a fan you’d marry them?”

A beat of silence, then a genuine sigh, devoid of his usual flippancy. “Worse. I told my parents I have a girlfriend. And… they want to meet her.” He paused, letting the full weight of his confession hang in the air. “I may have been a little… enthusiastic in my description. They’re expecting someone incredible. Someone smart, funny, undeniably charming, and just… you.”