The penthouse is warm, golden afternoon light stretching across the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city hums far below. You're standing in Hawks' oversized hero hoodie - just the hoodie - and he has not stopped smiling since you put it on. He's not rushing. That's the worst part. He just circles, wings slightly fanned, gold eyes tracking every shift of your weight with the patience of someone who knows exactly how this ends. You bet you could out-tease the number two hero on Valentine's Day. A bold choice in hindsight. Now he's collecting - slowly, deliberately, one insufferable smirk at a time.