spine kisses 💕 I, uh. This is a wingfic, so I hope that’s ok..💦 the idea just came to me and kept making me laugh so
Chanyeol’s wings are the colours he’d always hoped for – dark reds and oranges, almost black at the tips. His mother hadn’t been pleased with the yellow splotches around his alula feathers, ruining the symmetry, like he’d somehow grown them that way on purpose. They suit him just fine. Wide and bright and.. definitely no bigger than they were yesterday.
They’re new, it takes time – that’s what everyone says. Except his sister’s seemed to grow an inch a day, and Sehun’s already knocking things clean off surfaces with his. Chanyeol laughed off the jokes when he had total faith that his wings would match his enthusiasm for them arriving, but it’s been /weeks/.
He twists to get a better look at where they’re sprouted, as though this time it won’t be disappointing. Considering he has to view them from his back in a mirror because they’re still too small to extend out beyond his shoulders.. Nope. He’s still a birb.
“If you don’t flex them before bed they won’t grow,” Junmyeon pipes up as Chanyeol moves to pull on the shirt he’d planned to sleep in.
Chanyeol balls the shirt up in his hands. Junmyeon had looked misleadingly asleep when Chanyeol got back to their room. “You know that’s just a thing moms say.”
“Maybe. But I do know if you don’t flex them they’ll get stiff, and it might inhibit their use later.”
Chanyeol huffs as Junmyeon beckons him over. He still goes, pushing Junmyeon’s legs out of the way so he can sit on the small bed. “And that’s just what blogs read by moms say.” Because no offence, but Junmyeon’s not even going to grow any himself. All this research into care and maintenance and supplements for the members is nice and all, but it’s not like he knows best. (He kind of does; Chanyeol’s been relying on nature and willpower so far. He doesn’t know much about the what and why of sprouting wings, he just wants his to /grow/, god, please.)
As it happens Chanyeol has quite an aversion to flexing them. Well, it feels really good to spread his wings and shake out the stiffness of keeping them bound and cramped under his clothes. With his full wingspan about the same as a pigeon, Chanyeol on principle does not like flexing.
Junmyeon is a lot more concerned with his wellbeing than his pride, though. Not that he doesn’t understand, but it’s only the two of them, and if Junmyeon could deal with Jongin’s teething then he’s hardly fazed by some smaller than average wings. “Turn around,” Junmyeon says, hauling himself up by his elbows. He had been kind of asleep until Chanyeol started stomping around by the mirror, but that’s ok. Wings, tails, midnight transformations.. whatever it is, he’s always on call to help. “I’ll do it. It’ll take twenty seconds, you won’t even notice.”
Sighing, Chanyeol turns, drawing his feet up onto the bed. “If you call them flexercises again I’m swapping rooms.”
Junmyeon’s hand presses firm and steady between Chanyeol’s shoulder blades, small against Chanyeol’s broad back, the same size as his folded wings. “Don’t you think the term would catch on?” Junmyeon sounds like he’s smiling. Of course he is; he’s been proud of coining it for four weeks.
It’s been four weeks already, why is he still basically a sparrow. “No. And don’t try to make it.”
Grouchy and warm-faced as Chanyeol may be about close attention to his wings, it does feel pretty nice to have them opened up. Junmyeon doesn’t spend longer than necessary on each, just making sure all the feathers get aired and that they both span out to look the same as those colour coded diagrams he keeps on his tablet.
“There.” Junmyeon pats Chanyeol’s shoulder. “See? Twenty seconds. If we do that every night you’ll be caught up with Sehun in no time.” Not that it’s a competition, Junmyeon would add if this weren’t Chanyeol late at night.
“Yeah. Thanks, hyung.” The movement sets off and urge to use his wings, so Chanyeol gives them a little shake out and beats them. It doesn’t lift him up at all, of course. Barely creates a draft, if he’s honest. Chanyeol doesn’t hate them, but he’ll sure like them more when they’re not so fluffy and cutesy.
Junmyeon leans forward and chins at his shoulder. He doesn’t hug Chanyeol from behind in case it ruffles his feathers, and Chanyeol’s not particularly letting off that he’s in the mood anyway. “Don’t sound like that about it. They need positive thoughts if they’re going to be encouraged to grow.”
/That/ is definitely some mommy blogging bullshit. Chanyeol should just stuff them back inside his shirt and go to bed. But Junmyeon’s idea of giving them some positive encouragement is apparently leaning in until Chanyeol’s soft feathers are brushing his cheek. A soft kiss pressed right between them, because Junmyeon will love them even when Chanyeol refuses.
Not having yet figured out much control over them than up, down, and fold, Chanyeol isn’t expecting his feathers to seem to puff up somehow in response. He doesn’t know how to get them to calm down again, either. Which, no, it’s too late at night to deal with this. “Hyung,” he grumbles, gives his wings a little flutter so they bat at Junmyeon and make him let up.
“See, they liked that,” Junmyeon grins, and fine. Fine. Ok, maybe that’ll help.
