Page 42 of Shifter Omegaverse AU

Milo reached for their phone, which was resting on the couch cushion between them, and the hawk shrieked again. He then let out a loud kee-aww noise like he was a bald eagle on one of those patriotic war shows.

“I hope you have soundproofing, otherwise folks are gonna think you have a bald eagle locked up in here.”

Rowan’s hawk clamped his beak shut and gave Milo one of the most unimpressed looks of all time.

It took several seconds of their impromptu staring contest for Milo to realize they had just epically messed up. “Oh my gods, that’s right! They used the sound of a hawk because it sounded way more badass than the bald eagle.” Rowan’s hawk narrowed his eyes even further. “Was…it a red-tailed hawk?”

The answering kee-aww was deafening and quite impressive.

“Wow. You’re amazing.”

The hawk flapped its wings again before tucking them away and walking across the couch towards Milo.

“Uhm…I don’t have any snacks on me right now. Does Rowan—I mean, do you keep any in the house?”

Some shifters described themself and their inner beasts as two separate beings. For Milo, they and their pony were more like those two-color gummy worms: the same being, just in different colors with slightly different temperaments. That was why Ray and Ethel tended to talk to Milo’s pony the same way they talked to Milo, but not all shifters preferred it that way. Ethel often described her crow like it was some estranged sibling she’d rather not deal with, whereas Ray thought of his cat as a more adventurous, braver version of himself.

Milo had no idea how Rowan felt about his hawk, so they weren’t sure if they should refer to the hawk as Rowan or as Rowan’s hawk. While Rowan had deep, soulful hazel eyes, his hawk’s were a piercing yellow, which made it even harder to think of the majestic bird of prey as being Rowan.

The hawk bobbed his head as he continued walking towards Milo. Milo’s pony gave an excited whinny, encouraging Milo to reach out and touch the gorgeous bird, but Milo knew better. To avoid temptation, they buried their hands under the blanket in their lap.

Ignoring Milo’s best intentions, the hawk walked right up to Milo, climbed onto the blanket pile in their lap, and settled down like it was a nest.

OH GODS, OH GODS, OH GODS.

Their nickering was so loud, Milo was surprised Rowan’s hawk couldn’t hear either that or their screaming internal monologue.

“Uh, okay, yeah, no, that seems like a great place to sit. Totally,” Milo said, pushing themself back into the couch so they didn’t accidentally lean forward and bury their face in the hawk’s feathers like their pony wanted them to.

Milo’s pony kicked their back hooves out like they were slamming a barn door closed.

“When you’re human again, I’ll make sure to have a nice long conversation with you about having adequate seating in here, because while this couch is great, maybe you could do with a nice armchair, or—oh! I bet a bean bag chair with a bunch of blankets would feel just like a nest!”

Milo continued to babble about appropriate nest materials, in part to drown out the absolute racket their pony was making. Meanwhile, Rowan’s hawk sort of shimmied his body, burrowing deeper into the blankets until he landed on top of Milo’s hands. They were turned down, with the knuckles facing up, and that didn’t seem like it would be comfortable, so Milo turned their hands palm up until they were cupping the bird’s underbelly through the blanket.

Milo trailed off, not bothering to finish their sentence on the sturdiness of burlap, as their pony went unusually still.

“Huh,” Milo murmured. “Déjà vu.”

Obviously, they had never been sitting on a very nice leather couch holding their shifted friend, who they wanted to be more than a friend, but this feeling was one they’d had before.

Milo had a flash of memory, and no matter how quickly the fog descended in their mind, they would never forget the details of that day. It was like they were back in that hospital waiting room, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, swinging their legs, which were far too short to reach the ground. There had been countless adults coming in and out of the room, assuring Milo that they were safe and their great-aunt was coming to get them.

Of course, Milo and their pony hadn’t believed a word of it, not until they saw Anabelle with their own eyes. She’d run towards them and wrapped Milo up tightly in her parka-covered embrace. The added padding between them hadn’t dampened the feelings of safety and love. At that moment, it had felt like Milo had everything they could ever need. They were an orphan, but not alone. They were scratched up, but not broken, the way the car had been after skidding off the road. They had Anabelle, who had always made Milo feel like they could be their weird, authentic self, and she would never judge them like some of the kids at school did.

Sitting with the soft weight of Rowan’s hawk in their hands, Milo sank deeper into the couch cushions. Their pony settled onto the ground, tucking their legs up underneath them just like Milo imagined the hawk’s legs were tucked safely beneath his feathers.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Milo whispered. “I promise, I don’t take any of it for granted. Actually, I haven’t taken a single moment with you for granted.”

The hawk started bobbing his head again, but softer now, more like he was listening to jazz or maybe the orchestral music his brother played. Milo wondered if Ruben ever played for Rowan’s hawk, allowing him to bob and dance.

Ray really liked orchestral music. He would put on old CDs while doing his puzzles, and in a way, the music had become a soundtrack for the past two years of Milo’s life. When Rowan was human again, Milo would have to ask him what music played in his head when he was a hawk.

Hopefully, that would be in the next few minutes, otherwise Milo was at risk of falling asleep. They did their darndest to keep their eyes open, but when Rowan’s hawk yawned and closed his eyes, Milo yawned in response, and they accepted defeat.

They would just rest their eyes for a few minutes, and appreciate the soft movement of the magnificent bird in their lap…

Until slowly the movement stopped…