The agency office was chaos that morning.
Stacks of reports, requests for interviews, and a dozen mission briefings cluttered every desk.
And right in the middle of it all sat Kenta, Hawks' ever-reliable second-in-command, buried in paperwork that wasn't even his.
> "Let me get this straight," Kenta muttered, flipping through a file. "He's got me doing logistics for his next 'public engagement date'?"
He sighed, rubbing his temples.
> "Unbelievable."
Across the room, a junior agent peeked over her monitor.
> "Public engagement? You mean with that flower girl?"
> "Yeah, yeah," Kenta said, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't make it sound romantic. It's all PR—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his words catching.
Because even he didn't quite believe it anymore.
---
Later that afternoon, Hawks strolled into the office — sunglasses, wings folded neatly, that signature lazy grin on his face.
Kenta didn't even look up from the mountain of papers.
> "You're late."
> "For what?" Hawks asked, leaning casually against his desk.
> "For your own 'PR stunt.'" Kenta raised an eyebrow. "You've got requests from three reporters asking about your relationship with the flower girl, and I've got an inbox full of scheduling forms for these little dates of yours."
> "Appreciate the effort," Hawks said smoothly, plucking a paper from the stack. "You're a lifesaver."
> "You mean an unpaid matchmaker," Kenta grumbled. "Seriously, what's next? Candlelit dinners for 'public morale'?"
Hawks smirked, pretending not to answer.
That silence said everything.
> "…Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," Kenta muttered. "You're serious, aren't you?"
> "Hey," Hawks said lightly, "you're the one filing the forms. Might as well make them look good."
Kenta leaned back, eyeing him.
> "You know, boss, I used to think you were the best liar I've ever met. Now I'm starting to think you've fooled yourself."
Hawks chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
> "Maybe. But if it keeps her safe, I'll keep lying as long as I need to."
Kenta stared at him for a moment — then shook his head with a low whistle.
> "You're gone, man. Completely gone."
> "Maybe," Hawks admitted. "But it's a good kind of gone."
---
That evening, Kenta found himself helping more than he planned to.
He called the riverside café to reserve Hawks' favorite outdoor seat, arranged delivery of a bouquet, even drafted a "press-friendly" schedule that conveniently left out the real moments — the ones Hawks didn't want the world to see.
As he typed, he muttered to himself,
> "PR stunt, huh? Yeah, sure. That's what we're calling it."
He smiled slightly.
He'd known Hawks a long time — long enough to see the truth in his eyes even when his mouth spun lies.
This wasn't strategy anymore.
It wasn't protection.
It was something simple and painfully human.
Hawks was in love.
---
That night, Kenta sent the final message to Hawks' comm:
> "Everything's set for tomorrow's 'public engagement.' Don't be late. And try not to look too happy, or they'll see right through you."
A few seconds later, Hawks replied:
> "Too late for that, partner. I already am."
Kenta stared at the message and chuckled softly.
For the first time in a long while, he was glad his boss had found something worth breaking the rules for.
> "Guess even the top hero deserves a reason to smile," he said quietly, closing the laptop.