13079/Crime Fighting Birds Back to the Nest

Crime Fighting Birds Back to the Nest
Date of Scene:	15 October 2022
Location:	E04 - Empty Dorm - Titan's Tower
Synopsis:	The night of heroing leads to some unexpected results. Maybe not _too_ unexpected...
Cast of Characters:	Hank Hall, Dawn Granger

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Hank Hall has posed:
    It had been a whirlwind week since Dawn Granger had made her grand return. From the moment that Hank picked her up at the airport, both felt what palpably what had only been an inkling when they had last parted ways - the inexorable tie between the two bonded champions of Order and Chaos. There had been a careful dance between the two, as they started to trust in each other and share in what their experiences had been like apart. As Hawk and Dove started to get into sync, Hank and Dawn started to grow closer. Whether it was the power of the Lords of Chaos and Order bringing them together or just the natural shared understanding of what it was like to be buffeted about by those primal forces, the kinship the two felt had drifted over the line into something else. The two of them had committed that day Hank had picked Dawn up that they would make sure both Hank and Dawn were fine before Hawk and Dove would return. And after a few days spent in rather close company, the two found themselves to be fine, trusting in each other and seeking comfort. And while that was something the two of them needed to sort out - a few tentative and then spirited kisses had given way to a night of long conversation about the courses their lives had taken - they both felt that while they did not know where their course would take them, they were confident in their partnership. And so, tonight, Hawk and Dove returned to the streets.

    It took a surprisingly briefly amount of time for the two of them to find trouble in the form of a small group of men harassing a woman behind the convenience store around the corner. The situation came upon them suddenly, and although there was certainly enough danger to grant them a transformation, the threat was minor. Hank had charged into the fray without much pause or hesitation, despite Dawn's plea for him to wait, assess, and perhaps go in as Hawk. But it did not matter - Hank's strength, Dawn's grace, and their mutual training was more than enough to subdue the men. Hank called into a colleague on the force to come and collect them 'anonymously' while Dawn tended to the would-be victim, ensuring that she was fine and assisting her in finding treatment for the wounds inflicted that night, however minor, both physical and mental.

    By mutual assent, following the fight they both returned to Titans Tower, their bodies still feeling the rush of adrenaline and thrill of excitement. It was not a super powered menace that they had taken on, but it was also just Hank and Dawn, and not Hawk and Dove, that came to the woman's rescue. Somehow, that felt all the more exhilarating.

    Somehow avoiding running into any Titans colleagues on their way in and up, the pair found themselves in Hank's room after a brief pitstop to collect a few celebratory beers from the kitchen. Hank is leaning against the window looking at Dawn with a broad grin on his face as he takes a good swallow of the beer. "You looked amazing out there."

Dawn Granger has posed:
Dawn wasn't entirely sure how long the adrenaline would last, but it had certainly done a number. Helping someone as herself rather than the aid of Dove felt like a strange sort of piece of a puzzle settling into place. She and Hank had done just as well as a pair as the pair of Order and Chaos could have done. Taking a sip of her beer, moves to stand near him with a wide grin in reply.

"Thank you. You were wonderful, even if you did worry me for a second. We made an incredible team." She doesn't even need to add the unspoken implication that it was the team of Hank and Dawn being incredible.

Hank Hall has posed:
Grinning broadly as he takes a long sip from the beer, Hank nods as Dawn comes closer. "Hah, we have a literal danger sense, Dawn, why would you worry about me?" There was certainly the obvious, but he seems to be discounting that. "And yeah, we made a great team. The way you calmed her down, get her to go and talk it out, pretty amazing. I couldn't do that." He reaches out with his free hand to run it along her upper arm as she comes closer. "Maybe this is why we got picked - we are a good team, powers or not."

Dawn Granger has posed:
"You realize I'm always going to worry because I care, right?" Dawn laughs. "I'm also going to worry because you like to jump headfirst into things and I know that's never going to change." The touch on her arm seems to relax her, and she takes another sip of her beer. "I think you're right about a good team. Regardless of costumes, we compliment each other. I really, really like that. It's also nice to see how well we work in a stressful situation without the use of said costumes. I think it says a lot about us as people."

Hank Hall has posed:
"Old Hank would make a joke here about you only care how good your partner looks because if he didn't he'd drag you down." Hank flashes a grin. "New Hank knows it's because you care." He slips his arm around Dawn's waist and pulls her closer to him as he leans in to give her a brief kiss. "Yes, exactly. We can handle all of this stuff." He grins, taking a long sip from his beer. "No problem."

That is probably around the time that Dawn feels a warm wetness at her side from where she leans against Hank.

Dawn Granger has posed:
No problem indeed. It doesn't take Dawn but a half-second for her to realize what, exactly, is what she feels. "Hank! You're hurt!" She knows the adrenaline probably carried him through just fine, but Hank doesn't have the healing capability that Hawk does. She immediately keeps her arm around him but gently pulls him to try and get him to head over to sit down somewhere. "We need to see how bad it is."

She'll fuss regardless of how bad it is, but there's plenty of concern in her gaze.

Hank Hall has posed:
"Huh?" The adrenaline definitely may have been a factor, because Hank looks down and repeats that. "Huh." He follows along with her to a chair and takes a seat as directed, and starts to lift up his shirt. There is definitely a gash in his side, superficial but bloody, likely from the switchblade one of the men had pulled out. "I've seen worse," he says somewhat casually. And he probably has, but there is a decent amount of blood leaking out from the slash. "Just need a band aid or something." He tries to stand.

Dawn Granger has posed:
"/Hank/."

Dawn puts a hand out on his shoulder to keep him from rising, giving him a gentle push back down. "You may have seen worse but it doesn't mean it's still not an issue," she states, firmly. "Shirt off, it's going to need cleaned anyway. Where's the first aid kit? Under the bathroom sink?" She's thinking up a plan of attack on how to deal with the situation--especially because it keeps her from worrying too much, even if it being superficial.

Hank Hall has posed:
The hand was probably unnecessary. Her command is enough for him. He is not arguing.

He falls back into the chair and leans back, moving to remove the shirt. It is a clean slice, at least, and does not appear to have taken much in the way of dirt on the way home. Her question gets a confused look on his face. "First aid kit? Why I need one?" He can see her concern, and if anythiung he looks more concerned about her worry than he does his own injury.

Dawn Granger has posed:
Dawn doesn't quite scowl, but the look on her face is one of unhappy disapproval. "You don't even have a--" Now she's folding her arms over her chest. "I know there's less worry of injuries because we can be Hawk and Dove but it doesn't mean it's not an injury that should be looked at." Maybe she doesn't have to fuss so much, but she's going to. A lot of that is because the feelings of concern and care are a bit stronger than she'd anticipated.

She hurries over to at least get a damp washcloth from the bathroom so she can come clean the blood up at least. "Hank and Dawn are, after all, a little squishier than their counterparts," she notes.

Hank Hall has posed:
"I mean, normally, I just Hawk up, and these things kind of go away on their own." Hank shrugs. "I mean, this will probably be gone by morning, too. No big deal." He says as he oozes blood. Although Dawn's return means that there is pressure and a wash cloth on it, so that probably stems some of it. "And you are looking at it right now. Does it look like I'm dying?"

He laughs a bit at her comment. "But squishy in the best of ways," he murmurs, reaching out with his hand to try to run it against her side.

Dawn Granger has posed:
Dawn leans over to kiss his forehead, but makes sure to keep the washcloth there to both clean it and stop the blood. "You're not dying, but at the very least you don't need to be getting blood everywhere," she says, shaking her head, though for a moment she looks a little flustered. "Maybe I'm getting carried away." She looks back to him. "Am I?"

Hank Hall has posed:
Laughing softly, Hank shakes his head. "I'm well aware of how it stains." He nods towards his closet. "There's probably a few good sized bandages in there if you want to root around in the floor." A pause. "If that would make you feel better." He looks up at her, tilting his head, as he reaches up with his other hand and brushes some stray hairs away from the front of her face that had come undone during the melee. "Carried away how?"

Dawn Granger has posed:
Dawn keeps the pressure on the cut, letting out a soft sigh. "You're hurt, which is an important thing, but it's also not as if you're /dying/ and I'm acting like it is," she smiles sheepishly as she looks back at him. "I guess I'm just... worried because it's Hank who's hurt. You." She gazes back at him. "I might feel better putting a small bandage over it, just in case..."

Hank Hall has posed:
Hank places his hand over Dawn's as it rests on the cut, taking it from her side. "It just shows that you care. And that's ok. We said we were allowed to feel things, right?" His fingers run against hers gently as he looks up into her eyes. "Hank will be fine." he says with a slow smile. "He has his Dawn taking care of him."

Dawn Granger has posed:
Dawn returns the small smile after a moment, a touch of color on her cheeks. "Well, I care, so I'm going to patch you up," she says, though she makes no actual move to step away. She's just watching him instead. "You're right, though. We're allowed to feel things, this just caught me off-guard. I hadn't really thought how much I'd worry about /you/. I know you're fine. Besides, wouldn't you be worrying if it was me bleeding through my shirt?"

Hank Hall has posed:
"I'll be fine, Dawn. I'm probably already mostly patched up." Hank's hand remains on hers, fingertips brushing back and forth over her knuckles. "You didn't think you'd worry about me," he says flatly. As if either surprised or perhaps mildly offended. But then she takes it a step further, and there is a twinkle in his eyes. "Depends entirely about whether or not I'd have to take your shirt off to check you out." A grin. "Check it out." Deflect with humor. Trademark Hank Hall tactic.

Dawn Granger has posed:
"Okay, I didn't think I'd worry about you so much that I went into tactical mode as soon as I saw blood," Dawn's smile is warm, but still a little sheepish. Catching his 'recovery', she grins back at him. "I did manage to get your shirt off, which was entirely not the point of it... but somehow I don't think you'd be worrying about me getting blood stains on my shirt if it were me." She does, however, look down at her own shirt.

She did only catch the bleeding because she was leaning against him, which meant she /also/ had a bloodstain. When she notices it, she laughs loudly, unable to hide the broad smile across her face.

Hank Hall has posed:
"Tactical mode, huh?" Hank arches an eyebrow. "But see, that's just it. You didn't panic and worry, you immediately went to fix it." He laughs softly. "Not the point of it, huh?" His eyes follow her eyes down to her shirt. Landing on the bloody spot.

He looks back up to her eyes, smiling at her. "It appears that your shirt may be just as bad as mine." The hand lingering at her side runs back and forth along the bottom of her shirt for a moment. "Do you think it's too late to salvage from the stain?" he asks softly.

Dawn Granger has posed:
"Oh no, I was worrying, just not panicking. I have a cool head under fire," Dawn admits. "You just couldn't see the worry until I got carried away. It's just easier for me to think about what needs to be done, what the next step is, because if I /don't/ I realize just how worried I am." Her eyes drift down to the hand at the bottom of her shirt, and then she meets his gaze.

"Technically, both of our shirts should be fine if we run water on them before the blood dries, but I somehow don't think that's exactly what you have in mind."

Hank Hall has posed:
"Worrying. About me." Hank smiles up at her. "Enough that it flustered even the calm, cool, Dove." The choice in names may be deliberate. A bit of a tease. "I'm flattered." His eyes remain on hers, waiting for them when they come back up from his hand on her shirt. Fingers idly running along the fabric.

"I have a sink in here. We should probably put them in there before it's too late." He seems very serious in his tone. This must be his favorite t-shirt of hers.

Dawn Granger has posed:
The seriousness of his tone keeps a smile on Dawn's lips as she watches him. "I guess you'll just have to get used to the fact that you catch me off guard and make me worry about you because I care," she says, reaching one hand up to brush her fingers across his cheek. "You do have a very fair point, though. If we do rinse the shirts, there's plenty of time to save them. That is, if we /actually/ rinse the shirts." There may be the tiniest hint of a grin.

Hank Hall has posed:
"It is going to take some getting used to that," admits Hank, as he leans his cheek into her hand. "But I think I'll come around to that eventually." He considers her words as his fingers dip below the bottom of the shirt, lifting it up slightly. Not by much. His eyes resting on hers. "What could possibly distract us along the way to making sure they get rinsed?" he asks, innocently, other than that flicker of a grin on his face as well.

Dawn Granger has posed:
"I know it's going to be an adjustment, being cared for like that, but I believe in you," Dawn replies, holding his gaze. "I don't know about your firm desire to keep blood from staining our shirts, though. I just have a feeling you're going to find something much more interesting than doing laundry." She traces her thumb along his cheek. "Care to find out how distractable you are?"

Hank Hall has posed:
"I believe in you, too," comes Hank's reply. Matching her cadence, her tone. Echoing the sentiment. "Distracting?" Hank arches an eyebrow. "Between here and the sink?" His hand starts to rise up a bit further. If he were looking downward, her navel would be visible. But his eyes are on her eyes. "Are you issuing a challenge?" That definitely earns the beginnings of a grin.

Dawn Granger has posed:
"I'm fairly certain you can't resist a challenge, Hank Hall," Dawn states, leaning in just a little bit closer. "However, in this case, I'm not sure if I want to challenge you to attempt to make it to the sink or if I'm secretly hoping you'll fail." The only challenge she's attempting for sure, at the moment, is gazing directly at him and not looking away.

Hank Hall has posed:
"Damn right about that, Dawn Granger." Hank leans a bit closer to her as well. "You've already been the beneficiary of that once," he observes. He considers her words, nodding slowly along with them. "That does represent quite a predicament." The other predicament is the rising shirt, which in the next few moments, despite its slow and steady pace, may require that eye contact to be broken so it can move above her head. But for now, despite it having moved higher than most of her midsection, Hank's gaze ignores the shirt in favor of Dawn's eyes. Yes, definitely some sort of challenge here.

Dawn Granger has posed:
At some point, the gaze is going to have to be broken, but Dawn's not looking at the shirt. There's the tiniest hint of a grin on her lips as she calmly replies to him, keeping her attention focused. If there's anything she's exceptional at, it's focusing. Hyperfocusing, in fact. "I do happen to like this shirt," she notes. "It wouldn't take terribly long to rinse them before they stain." Her look is one of serious contemplation, but the amusement behind it is hard to hide.

Hank Hall has posed:
Hank is not looking at the shirt either. Or what was under it. He is _not_ as good at focusing as Dawn is, but what he is good at is being stubborn as a mule. And if being stubborn helps him win a challenge, then he can focus just well enough to make a shot at it. "We should get on that, then." There is little distance left for the shirt to travel at this point, other than to go up and over Dawn's head. What will happen to that locked gaze at that point? Anyone's guess. "I can't think of too many things more important than this shirt. Can you?"

Dawn Granger has posed:
There are too many factors for Dawn to calculate. The shirt, the gaze, the blood stains, Hank's stubbornness, their growing penchant for challenges... there's no way for her to possibly factor them all in. So instead of attempting to formulate a strategy to win this challenge, she instead relaxes. She dips her head, just slightly to break the gaze, enough so he can assist her with the shirt. "This is the second time you've beaten me recently," she notes. "Don't get too used to your victories."

Hank Hall has posed:
And assist her he does. Does Hank steal a glance while their gaze is be necessity broken, while Dawn's vision is obscured by the shirt passing in front of her visual range? Impossible to say, because when her eyes move back towards him, his are right there, meeting her gaze. Once removed, Hank draws the shirt back, leaving it in his hand and resting it in his lap. He seems, despite all dialogue to the contrary, not to be in much of a hurry to actually get it to the sink. "Maybe I am just challenging you to up your game, as a good yin yang would do. Right?"

Dawn Granger has posed:
"Well then, Hank, consider this game on," Dawn replies slowly. Her next move, however, is not so slow. Her hand snaps out to where his shirt had been discarded and she backpedals away from where he's seated with her dancer's grace. "I believe I am going to be kind enough to save your shirt for you," she says, catching his gaze again. A challenge of some kind now, certainly.

Hank Hall has posed:
That is a challenge, indeed. As Dawn moves away, and more of her comes into the periphery of his vision, Hank manages to keep his gaze ratcheted upon her face. Eyes to eyes. But it is clearly not as easy as when she was standing nearly on top of him. Is it a strange challenge to play out? Perhaps. "Then I suppose I should be kind enough to do the same for yours," he murmurs, rising up from his chair, shirt in hand, moving to follow her in pursuit of the bathroom sink.

Dawn Granger has posed:
Given Dawn's experience as a dancer, retreating back towards the bathroom while keeping her gaze fixed isn't a hard task. She makes sure to keep a steady pace and matching his, not giving any ground between them in her retreat. Unfortunately, once she's made it close to the sink, it leaves her back to it. That seems to be a small miscalculation in her plan. Flexible as she might be, she's absolutely certain that washing his shirt in the sink while reaching behind her is beyond her skillset. "Damn," she mutters, her back resting up against the edge of the sink. "Well, I suppose all that's left is to clean up this mess."

Hank Hall has posed:
Luckily for Dawn, Hank elects to follow, carrying her shirt along with his. He may not have a dancer's grace, but he has the benefit of seeing the sink before him. At least, seeing the wall the sink is on before him. He follows along with her, keeping that distance the same. His eyes never leaving hers. When she reaches the sink and stops, however, that distance compresses. "Yeah, gotta clean it up," murmurs Hank as he drops her shirt into the sink. His other hand reaches up towards her as if to take his, and if able will drop it into the sink. He leans forward, slowly, reaching past her with one hand, his chest brushing against hers as he stretches to turn on the water. A very small, slow stream, not likely to splash once it hits the basin. And all the while, never taking his eyes from hers.

Dawn Granger has posed:
Dawn allows the shirt to be taken from her grasp, conceding at least defeat on that part. However, with the move to turn the actual sink on, he's caught her by surprise. Mostly because she's almost certain he isn't /actually/ trying to wash their shirts without looking... is he? Her look of surprise is evident and she makes no attempt to hide it as she suddenly laughs. "I'm really going to have to get better at these challenges. I have clearly underestimated you," she says. She is, however, waiting to see if he's attempting the actual washing.

Hank Hall has posed:
"You should never underestimate my desire to win any challenge, Dawn," murmurs Hank, as he watches her. His other hand slides along past her waist, and now both arms are moving back and forth, brushing against her sides, clearly his hands manipulating the shirts underneath the water in some capacity. How effective it is without looking? Debatable. "I'm known to do that even when losing the challenge is probably way more enjoyable." Was that a slight dip of his eyes? No, not quite. He is not even drifting them slightly to the side to look into the mirror above the sink. He leans forward, as if to get more of the shirts under the water, keeping enough distance between their faces to watch her eyes. But his torso rests gently against hers, shifting slightly with the movements of his arms.

Dawn Granger has posed:
While Dawn's no longer in any position to aid in the shirt washing or somehow best him in that challenge, Hank's clearly not given up. The stubbornness of his continued attempt at winning has caused Dawn's expression to turn from amusement to utter delight and perhaps charm at his commitment to seeing the challenge through until completion. Regardless of how well he's washing the shirts, she's already decided he's won that part of whatever silent challenge had been issued. She does laugh, pressing slightly more comfortably against his chest, and leans up to kiss him.

Hank Hall has posed:
Whether it is focus or sheer stubbornness, Hank does manage to keep that commitment. His arms continue to brush against her side as he sees that recognition in Dawn's eyes. The seeming understanding that the challenge has been conquered. Whether it was articulated or not. As she leans up to kiss him, it would seem that Hank takes that as something of either an ending or relaxing of the challenge. Luckily for Dawn, by the time she does so, the water in the sink has warmed enough that as Hank's hands come to run up along her back, having left the shirts in the basin, there are no chills to be had.

At least, not from the water lingering on the fingertips that trace up along her spine.

Dawn Granger has posed:
It's indeed lucky for Dawn that there's no touch of cold fingertips against her spine, which allows her to at least focus her attention on the kiss. She wraps her arms around him, now content to forget about the challenge in favor of the warmth of an embrace and a kiss. She has, by now, surprisingly forgotten about the small cut from earlier. Priorities.

Hank Hall has posed:
Fortunately for both of them, by now the advanced healing factor has kicked in enough that the wound is no longer bleeding. Not that either of them have paid it much heed anymore. All of Hank's attention now is on the kiss, returning it gently and with deep affection as he leans the rest of his body against Dawn's, encouraged by the wrap of her arms. The quiet tumble of water behind them continues to splash over the two shirts as Hank's hands make their slow ascent along her back, slowing as they near halfway up her ribcage.

Dawn Granger has posed:
While it had been his small injury that had started the whole chain of events, it was now the injury that was the least present in their thoughts. Even the soft sound of the water behind her is lost from her thoughts as Dawn instead focuses on Hank. Just Hank. Her arms squeeze him gently, less of a strong grip and more a reflex as she /relaxes/. He's one of the few people that has ever really managed to do that to this degree, and it's enough that the normally very aware and conscious woman is letting her focus be taken. She kisses him, relishing in the moment, both the physical and the sense of comfort and security that comes from being around him.

Hank Hall has posed:
Hank can feel Dawn relax against him, and in the part of him that is aware of such things he is pleased that he has been able to distract her away from the stress and worry of his injury. Even if it was minor, he realizes that her concern for him is at a high enough level that there are no small injuries. Feeling her body relax, Hank continues the slow, gentle kiss, leaning a bit more against her. Fingers delicately walk up along her back, pausing briefly as they find her bra. There they linger, perhaps even so waiting to feel out her reaction.

By now, the shirts have most assuredly been sufficiently rinsed. And yet the water continues to run...

Dawn Granger has posed:
The sensation of relaxing is enough to distract Dawn from most things. The continued kissing is enough to distract her from more. The slightest trace of his fingers higher on her back does catch her attention /just/ enough. She doesn't break away from the kiss, but she reaches behind her, fumbling until she reaches the faucet's handle and turning it off. That said and done, her arm wraps back around him and she leans in closer, the implication for him to continue now that there was truly nothing to distract them.

Hours later when they were less distracted by each other, they at least didn't have to worry about someone questioning Hank's water usage.