Miguel was a romantic. Full-on cheesy, schmaltzy, bordering on cringe-inducing romantic. Hawk knew that. He himself was, of course, none of those things.
After all, it was when Miguel tried too hard that things got corny; although sometimes corny could still be fun, Hawk had come to realize, but he would never admit it.
But when things were allowed to progress naturally, when being in each other's company meant talking about school or shows or karate somehow evolved into an arm wrapping around someone's shoulder, that was when things got real. That was when Hawk lowered his defenses, when he allowed his mask to slip.
It wasn't like it was totally a conscious decision. It just happened in the moment.
It was in the rare moments when he let his hair down so Miguel could freely rake his fingers through it. It was when Miguel tugged off his shirt so he could run his hands up the raptor inked on his back unfettered. It was how Miguel pulled him closer, how their breaths quickened, and how they were playfully rolling on top of each other to see who could best whom.
Then he would do something that would bring down that last vestige of pretense, the thin wall would crumble and Miguel would start whispering at his ear, "Eli…."
The knee-jerk reaction would come, the reflex at hearing his name would contract a primal response inside of him, like a chill slithering up his spine. Names had power. People could use your name to hurt you. Hawk was strong enough to take it, but Eli wasn't.
He would have to remind himself that he'd given Miguel permission to say it during moments like these, and only moments like these. He suspected Miguel didn't understand why he had to be so weird about it. But that was okay because the why's didn't matter then.
All that mattered was the breath Miguel took between each kiss and the way he earnestly encouraged him with each exhale. "Eli…Eli…Eli…."
It was at that time that he became starved to hear his name. Only then could he admit how desperate he was to hear it from someone who didn't use it to disrespect him, to talk down to him, to demoralize or berate him. Miguel would never use his name to hurt him. He never once had. It could make him believe, for a short while, that he was strong even without the Hawk mask.
And when the moment was over, when the last kiss parted and they both leaned back and laughed a bit, Eli would take the few remaining seconds of elation to enjoy the fact that Miguel was smiling because of him.
Then the defenses started rebuilding. A sincere smile molted into a joshing grin, and he would make some sort of bragging remark or immature innuendo to bring things back down to Earth, to make him forget how warm his face was.
Because, of course, Hawk wasn't a romantic.