#enhoen

Hawks was drunk. Enji wasn’t drunk enough.

The keynote for the year was interesting enough to hold almost everyone’s attention. And she was showing footage from one of Enji and Hawks more recent ROV dives to emphasize her point about waste winding up in assorted environments and ensnaring wildlife. He wanted to pay attention, but he was constantly distracted.

Hawks was wriggling in his seat like he had to pee, which Enji knew he didn’t because he’d gone right before dinner, traveling with a gaggle of other grad students like a school of fish. Hawks had actually used the phrase ‘freshen up’, which was weird for the typically casual man.

No, Enji definitely wasn’t drunk enough to just sit there while Hawks writhed because Professor Shigaraki had his hand inching up his inner thigh. He wanted to grab Shigaraki’s hand a feed it to a fucking great white. He also didn’t want to get drunker because if he was, he knew, he just knew, Shigaraki would take the opportunity to try and ‘see Hawks up to his room since you’re presently incapacitated Todoroki-sensei.’

Hawks bumped into Enji’s shoulder and grabbed Enji’s glass of wine from right in front of him to chug the entire contents. Shigaraki poured another glass for Hawks from the decanter in the table’s center. Enji glared at him over Hawks’ head.

“Sensei! I’m tired,” Hawks stage whispered into Enji’s bicep.

“Hush now, wait until Kayama-sensei finishes, then we’ll go upstairs.” Enji refrained from petting Hawks hair, but just barely.

“Now, now, Todoroki-sensei. You’ll need to stay and chat with the others; you’re the man of the hour after all with that latest publication.” The fact that despite his latest publication he’d been passed over for Kayama as the keynote speaker at the annual meeting went unsaid; that was the entire point of veiled insults after all. “I’ll see Hawks up to his room.”

“En~ji~saaan, don’ leave me,” Hawks whined. He jumped against Enji’s arm because Sigaraki—that fucking bastard—still had his hand on Hawks thigh and was squeezing.

“I don’t think I’ll be missed, Professor Shigaraki.” Enji grabbed the back of Hawks chair and scooted him closer, away from Shigaraki, under the guise of helping him sit straight. He brought a glass of water to Hawks lips, narrowly missing the glass of wine Shigaraki had raised to try and do the same.

Thirty interminable, excruciating, minutes later Enji had Hawks under his arms and was making his apologies for ducking out early. Jeanist promised to cover for them, glaring across the convention center ballroom at Shigaraki the entire time because he, like Enji, knew Hawks was most definitely not a lightweight.

Ten minutes after that, because the elevator was slow and the hall was long, Enji opened the door to his own room and set Hawks on the bed he wasn’t using. Never had he been more grateful for hotels just about always having two beds per conference block room. 

“Where’re we?” Hawks slurred and rolled to rub his face on the blankets, “Doesn’t smell like my room.”

“My room,” Enji replied reflexively. “And please tell me the other grad student’s aren’t smoking illicit herbs in your room.”

Hawks gave a drunken wink, which was more of a blink, and said “I won’ tell ya nothin’.”

Enji just rolled his eyes and felt more sure of his decision. If the other students were incapacitated, they might not think anything of Shigaraki showing up and asking after Hawks. The man was charming—by which Enji meant slimy—enough to slip into easy conversation and convince them that Hawks would be ‘more comfortable’ in his room or that they were ‘stepping outside for just a second’ to ‘chat’. Enji shivered. There was a reason the man had been fired from UA, it was just that his earlier work and name brought in enough grant money that he’d always be hired-on elsewhere.

“Enji …” Hawks looked up at him with wide eyes that were surprisingly lucid given how much Hawks had had. “... I can call ya that ‘cause we’re alone. Sleep with me?”