Birdie (Hawks x reader)

Fire and more fire and OH MY GOSH WHY IS FIRE HAPPENING

The next day, (Y/N) left her house, key to Hawks' apartment in hand. The few days he had been in the hospital, she had promised to feed Ravioli, his cat. The fluffy cat always greeted her with a happy meow and purring that was probably loud enough to send his food bowl vibrating across the tiled kitchen floor. Today however, she opened the door to, for some reason, no cat. She furrowed her eyebrows and closed the door behind her.

"Where is he?" she wondered aloud. It wasn't exactly like the little orange cat could go anywhere. The apartment was small, small enough that there weren't many places to look. She thought for a moment. Maybe he was under Hawks' bed, she decided. Ravioli had gone there before. She approached Hawks' door and reached for the doorknob, then froze at the sound of a voice.

"Cute little devil, ain't you?" Ravioli responded with an approving mrrp. The voice was scratchy like a smoker's, and it sure as heck wasn't Hawks. Not only was Hawks in the hospital, he sure as heck didn't smoke. (Y/N) was suddenly grateful for her baseball bat. She grabbed the bat from her hip and leaned against the wall, formulating a plan. Given how small the apartment was, there was a chance the person in the room already knew she was there. They might have heard the door open or heard her talking or even heard her footsteps or her locking the door. However, there was also a chance that they didn't know she was there. The voice laughed and Ravioli meowed very loudly in approval. "I wonder what your name is." The voice must have checked the tag on Ravioli's collar. "Ravioli, huh? Cute. Hawks chose well."

(Y/N) stiffened. Whoever this was, it wasn't a random robbery. This was specifically targeted to Hawks. They knew he lived here. She considered her options. She could, of course, rush in and start a fight. Granted, there was only one door to the apartment and no window in Hawks' room, so there was only one way in and one way out. She would need to take this slow and figure out what they wanted. She looked over to the living room. The TV and DVD player and every other appliance were still there. The voice wasn't here for that. They were here for Hawks. She took a deep breath and opened the door, readying the baseball bat.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" She said sharply. The owner of the voice looked up. It was a young man, maybe no older than twenty-six. His hair was black and covered in ash and soot, and he dressed like a homeless man. Ratty white t-shirt, worn boots, leather jacket, the works. However normal he looked from there hardly made up for his defining feature, large swaths of burn scars stapled to his body.

"Oh, I had no idea Hawks had a girlfriend," the man laughed, standing up. He was maybe around six feet tall, and his voice sounded like someone speaking through a fan.

"I'm not his girlfriend. Who are you and what do you want?" (Y/N) brandished her baseball bat. "And even more importantly, how did you get in here?"

"On that note, who are you?" the man grinned like a bobcat.

(Y/N) considered lying that the place was just hers and making him go away. Then she remembered that there was a good chance he would know she was lying. His confidence and the fact he was waiting and the fact he had even gotten in meant this was premeditated. "You're stupid, you know. Hawks isn't here."

"Oh?" The man raised a very stapled eyebrow. "Where is he?"

"Not here. He won't be here for several days."

"Then why are you here?" he asked. (Y/N) cringed. He sounded like a rock against a cheese grater.

"I'm here to feed the cat, you egg. Why are you here?"

"Fiery," the man chuckled as Ravioli scurried over to (Y/N) and rubbed against her leg. "I'm here for Hawks, I'm sure you know."

"Who are you and why do you need to see Hawks?"