A Wilted Red Rose (Hawks x Reader)

Memories

A/N: This chapter's picture was drawn by sugarkittycat04 on Tumblr.

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The silhouette of rustling branches through the window danced across the room, the sun's shining rays streaking along your half-asleep form. While murmuring slightly, one hand balled a clump of sheets into your fist as your lids slowly creased open to reveal a wrinkled yet empty spot beside you. Judging by the neatly folded blankets perched on the living room couch, Hawks didn't come home last night. Or the night before. Inhaling contently, you knew he was alright. Your heart skipped erratically over recalling what happened the other night – what you had done, how he reciprocated so eagerly, and the simple act of affection that followed soon after.

This feeling... it was so beautiful, yet so terrifying.

There was no question that you and Hawks were both learning to navigate this new feeling of affection. It was new territory for the both of you. But damn if it didn't feel wonderful. It was a powerful drive that made you all too eager to give it your all, even if it was exhausting. Even if it meant waking up alone.

You rubbed lazily at your eye while stepping into the lounge, only to pause immediately in place upon spotting something unusual near the balcony.

What the heck is that?

A box the size of a plastic bag sat innocently on the floor. On it was decorations of feathers hastily scribbled in pen tied in a simple red bow with a small note hanging on the front. Like a homemade present. Hawks was planning to not be home for a while, and he got the bright idea to make a quick pitstop to his house between shifts, you figured.

Confused yet curious, you opened it in surprise to find a burgundy-colored throw pillow, along with a note – scribbled on it is a picture of Hawks with his eyes closed and upturned in delight while one hand held up his middle and pointer finger, giving a victory sign, that he likely scribbled himself, along with the message:

'Hey, baby!'

'Night's been crazy. Not sure when I can make it home. Wanted to leave you this in the meantime. After all, I've seen that ironing board you call a pillow. Give this one a try – and give it a good fluff or two to find out what makes it so special~'

'Back soon~'

'Still your Number One Hero,'

'~Hawks'

The red velvet pillow was stuffed to the brim with what you deduced as molted feathers of your cocky friend – boyfriend?

Chuckling in amusement, you took out your own scrap of paper and jotted something down out of fun, leaving it on the kitchen table in its place. It simply read:

'You're a punk.'

'Signed, your Number One Fan.'

'P.S. - Thanks.'

Upon setting down the note, you felt a mysterious tap against your left shoulder. You gasped, half expecting some creep to be there to snatch you up, only to your confusion, no one was even there. Then that same eager tapping on your right shoulder. Screaming in pure terror, you leaped in that direction and shielded the pillow up to your chest in self-defense. Then to the left of you, laughter struck.

"Ahahaha! N-no way, it worked!" Hawks bellowed, his hand slapped over his forehead. "You just fell for the oldest trick in the book, babe!"

"Do you feel as though your life is in danger? Cause it is!" You tackled Hawks into a hug, causing him to take one step back from the impact. His laughter died down as his arms wrapped around you and squeezed you closer in response. He couldn't stay long, you knew, but every second spent with him was precious in your eyes. Even though the humiliating laughter echoing in your mind for falling for the easiest prank out there was sure to haunt your dreams.