#:{3

[wurmzone]

6. CHEETAH

[xxzarm]

their swag is yet to be studied

[osakateto]

This is how regular gay couples look like

Click here to see a bagginshield fanfic written in 2002 👀

[orangehalfpeeled]

*taps mic* QSMP anyone??

[1v31182m5]

Sealo and Sealest

[whisperwritingstuff]

welcome to chapter twenty-two of catastrophic consequences, your twice weekly hfs e/l sequel heroverse enemies/lovers convexian shenanigans fic as co-written by @varanere00 and myself we've got a real dashbreakingly long treat for y'all today folks! plenty of guests, plenty of emotions, plenty of cute kittyboying. enjoy!

------

The way back to Scar’s place is familiar. Well trodden. Even if Scar has to zig and zag, the wires only spanning some gaps, not all. Scar's body moves on autopilot, scaling roofs and running gaps. His mind, his mind is on the kiss. On Grian leaning in and pressing his lips to Vex's. Taking. Giving?

Scar keeps Grian in his peripheral as he runs, constantly aware of the circling and swooping presence above him. Matching the circles Scar's thoughts chase themselves in over- The blank shock on Vex's face, the perk of his tail. The scent of Grian, lingering on Vex. More than tolerating-

Is Grian claiming Vex as well?

Scar said they could share. Easy as breathing, to him. Sharing with Grian feels natural.

Most of Scar's shock is Grian flipping so quickly after his previous attempts at digging in his heels over Vex. But Grian is a man of decisive actions, once he makes up his mind.

And that kiss hadn't felt like a capitulation. More like- A challenge. Something for Vex to rise to.

Had they talked, while Scar was out of it? ....did that qualify as leaving Grian alone with Vex?

Grian had even sent him away while Vex was there! Is that edict even still in place at all? Had Grian gotten rid of it when Scar wasn't looking?

The freeflying speck above him reveals no answers.

Swirly thinky thoughts are stopped by Scar arriving on his own roof. There's a Lizzie up here, lain out on a lounger, enjoying the sun. Even if she is bundled up in a pastel sweater with a blanket on her lap to combat the late evening spring chill.

"Evening." She greets him, raising her cup in a silly lil salute.

“Good evening, madame.” Scar takes a deep bow. “A pleasure to see you.”

"Likewise." She smiles. "Where's your birdy? He comin’ down?"

“We're just makin’ a quick stop in to drop off and pick up some stuff, gonna spend the night at his place.” Scar looks up, eyes locking unerringly onto Grian’s flight. “He might stay up there, I think.” Grian says things feel clearer up there. Scar longs to experience that clarity.

On the table next to her, Lizzie's phone dings.

"Aw, no impromptu girls night? We really should schedule another, it's been months. Months!" Despite her complaints, Lizzie is still smiling up at him as she reaches to check her phone.

While she looks at her phone, Scar steps over to a shadowed alcove of the roof to get his mask off and tuck his collar so it's not visible beneath his now-lowered hood.

"Oh, we've got to." Scar smiles bright and easy, moving back over to her. He bounces his freed fluffy ears at her. "Can't have you dying of girls night starvation, now can we?"

"Definitely. I'll stick my schedule on your fridge." Putting her phone away, she looks back up at Scar. "Ooh, kitty ears! Gimme!" Scar is faced with two grabby hands in his direction. Surely Grian will understand that Lizzie needs her Scar kitty ear scritching time.

Frankly, trying to escape her would take far far more time than giving her the goods right off, so Grian should appreciate Scar taking this hit for the team!

Which has nothing to do with the way he eagerly prances closer, melting onto Lizzie's lap the moment she gets her nails into his fur. Who said any of that? Scar can't hear it over his purring.

"Aww, you purr! Such an adorable kitty!" She coos, really getting into her scritching.

Lizzie rubs his ears thoroughly, Scar splayed out on her lap. She even gives him a few chin scratches, which Scar just has to have Grian try with claws later.

"Sadly, that's enough of that." Lizzie pats his head. "You have a bird waiting, and I've just been invited to a party. Before you go, got any injuries that need tending?" The typical question she asks him every time she sees him after a fight or patrol.

Scar blinks up at her. Big, slow blinks.

Oh right, words. Yeah, he knows those. What'd she say? Injuries? Scar wiggles his fingers and toes, trying to remember if he's got any new hurts. Well, nothing screams at him, so. "S'all good. Party. Party-Lizzie~ Life of the party~" He giggles to himself, kneading at her lap.

"Yes. I am the party." Lizzie nods, giggling along with him.

"Alright." She says, once they catch their breath. "A quick kiss, and then we both go?"

"Kiss!" Scar cheers, pushing himself up.

Both their lips still ring with laughter as they meet, Scar perhaps not taking the quick part much to heart. He's too busy chasing the traces of the bright fruity tropical drink Lizzie must have been sipping during her sunning.

Lizzie, the ol' meany, breaks the kiss far too soon for Scar's liking. Even his wibbliest lip and his wettest eyes cannot change her mind, as she pushes him off her lap. Not onto the floor, not quite so cruel this time, but all sprawled out on the foot of her lounger, with no soft Lizzie pillow. A sad and lonely existence Scar decries with only the most appropriate of mournful mrewls.

Lizzie just claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, you made your bed, kitty-boy. Go on."

With no quarter and no sympathy to be had, Scar drags himself upright. He's in the middle of his plan to limp sadly into the building, when Lizzie brushes past him, a cloud of sweet cherry-blossoms and a kiss to his cheek that perks him right up.

Hiking up his stuffed-full goodie bag, he follows her into the elevator she called only to share with him. A few more moments to bask together. Mind, the trip is only a single floor, and his legs, while bit achy from the parkouring with no warmup, are being very cooperative right now. He could have done stairs. Still, he gives her the softest smile and drops a return kiss on her hair that has her snuggling the blanket draped over her arm closer. Her other hand holds her empty drink glass

"You been shopping? In mask?" She nods at his bag.

“Nah, those’re gifts.” Scar considers, for a moment, if he should tell Lizzie- No, not now. He’ll save it for when he’s a drink or two into next girl’s night, let his loose tongue do the work for him. They don’t really have the time to get into all of it right now anyway.

"Gifts, huh?" She raises an eyebrow. "Grian knows who they're from?"

“Some of them are for him too!” Scar grins. “He’s just a big ol’ meanie making me carry it all.” Ignore the several bags Scar made Grian carry last time- Injured foot, they don’t count!

"Good, good. I was worried." She gets on her tippy toes to press another kiss to his cheek, before turning to her door. "Girl's night! Don't forget!" She calls over her shoulder, halfway into the door.

“Leave me a note!” Scar calls back, prancing his own way to his apartment.

Inside, he flops himself onto a kitchen chair and takes a moment to breathe.

“Boo.”

And now Scar’s on the floor, heart thudding in his ears. Great. Why does he love this bird, again?

No idea. Not a clue. Such an evil, evil birdy. Worse than Vex, worse than Dee-

Said evil bird wanders over- to begin picking through Scar’s spoils! Of course Scar has to lunge up off the floor at him! Gotta!

Grian anticipates the lunge. Dodging, tripping Scar, and retaliating by planting himself firmly on Scar's butt. No amount of wriggling will dislodge a properly planted bird, Scar knows, so this is his fate now. Still, Scar wiggles and squirms, even if just on principle.

"Wound care time, sucker." Grian proclaims. "Now this is all Vex's stuff, so you better hold still and not make me waste any."

Scar slumps into the floor with a wail. Not that the mournful sound gets him any sympathy or reprieve. Only Grian shoving Scar's shirts up, not even bothering to take them off before beginning bandage removal.

He's well and truly trapped as Grian snaps on gloves and works to regoop his back. Only when the last of the sticky plasters go on does Scar start his squirming again. Enough wound care! He demands birdly nest time, and they can't have that til they're at Grian's!

“Gri~an.” Scar whines, savoring the taste of the name he hasn’t been able to say for days.

“Scar.” Haughty. Arrogant. Absolutely perfect.

Mrp! Scar dangles, adjusting to the fact of being lifted wholesale.

Lifted and set on his feet, Grian's arms staying around him until Scar's firmly standing on his own two legs without wobbles.

Twisting around, Scar revenge chomps down on a headwing.

Grian's other headwing flaps wildly against Scar's face, despite Grian's expression simply showing fond amusement. Grian shoves him back. "Come on, get your stuff sorted, the leftovers are thawing."

Not that there's much to be sorted. The goodies from Vex get unpacked, food going in the fridge and freezer respectively. A whole box full of gloves and medical supplies goes in the bathroom, overflowing from the largest bathroom cabinet Scar owns.

While Scar is sorting all that, with minimal help from Grian, said pesky bird has already picked out his own Vexy-treats. The ropes, the towels, the sparkly plug. Tucked safely away into his own bag, to be taken home.

"Don't forget your potions!" Scar helpfully drops the bottles into Grian's bag.

Now, what does he need for the night at Grian's? Not clothing or toys, Grian has plenty of those. Plus a second copy of Scar's chair Grian had insisted on getting for some reason. Grian's got food, too. Scar shouldn't need his masks, especially not with Grian changing out of his Cuteguy look as well.

Does he need to bring anything? He feels like he's forgetting something. Like, yes, he always feels that way but. That's beside the point.

Does he want to bring anything? Marshmallows maybe, because he knows Grian always forgets to buy them. That's one thing Scar never forgets. He has eighteen packs of marshmallows. Grian's portion of the lasag follows the marshmallows into the bag. To finish it all off, Scar drops in s bottle of sparkly blue nailpolish. Bright blue, not pale, but city Neits make do. He wants his new claws all fancied up. Maybe he can convince Grian that they could do each other's.

"All done!" Scar presents Grian with the freshly packed bag.

Grian pokes and prods around in the bag. Humming and scrutinizing. "Excuse you."

A few steps over to Scar's fridge and- There just wasn't enough in there for Scar to properly hide it, so...

"Aha!" Grian holds his container of fruit aloft triumphantly.

"Thank you ever so kindly my good man! I knew I had forgotten something most importantly!" Scar swoops into a practiced bow.

"Oh, yeah, uhuh, you forgot it behind the eggs, sure." Grian rolls his eyes, shoving the fruit into his own bag. "C'mon, hood up, let's get going." Grian moves toward the door.

Instead of the hood, Scar pulls over a beanie with cat ears. He found it while digging through his closet, and left it dangling from a chair. Perfect for now. Less suspicious. Slinging the bag over one shoulder, he slips his other hand into Grian's, grinning widely.

"Impossible." Grian rolls his eyes.

Still, Grian squeezes Scar hand, leading the way to the elevator, hitting the down button. Silently agreeing, Scar thinks a casual walk to Grian's place sounds nice. Going at their own pace, getting to hold Grian's hand, to turn his face to what's left of the sun. Scar likes that.

And if the sun sets before they get there? Well, Scar's never been afraid of his city's shadows.

---

Cub watches Neit run off, tearing out and taking the better part of Cub's heart with him.

Pressing two fingers to the dip below his lips, Cub is still stunned by the ghost of warmth there. Waves of unnamed emotions crash and redouble inside Cub's chest.

All he can do is wait them out.

Neit and Ari are gone. His lair is quiet. Empty.

This time, Cub doesn't try to face that quiet alone. Doc's presence had worked last time, and Cub does still owe Deepfrost a look at his ears, especially after hanging up on him earlier.

Not to mention, if Tango knows, so do the others, some of whom may want a look. Possibly a touch.

So really, the easiest thing to do is to issue an open invite to have them all over. Nothing else to be done. Certainly, Cub's need desire for a bit of company chasing out the crushing stillness has nothing to do with it. Simplest solution, is all.

Pulling out his phone, he finds their big group chat. 'im free now if anyone wants to see the felinid transformation in person' he types, sends, and tucks his phone away. Ignoring the repeated bing! of messages coming in. He has a lair to tidy up.

Cub has to make sure everything is right, that nothing important of Neit's or Ari's got left out, that there's not too many mysterious blood smears. Set on some laundry, of course. Toys to clean and put away.

After that’s completed, Cub figures he may as well make a nest of his civilian apartment’s living room floor, since he figures that's where they'll all end up anyway. If anyone wants to come over. Hopefully at least one or two do.

His living room is technically big enough to comfortably hold all of them. The room itself, not the nest. Just the nest would be a bit of a squeeze, not that anyone would mind. They're all touchy-couddly people, even the ones who don't naturally nest. A good thing Cub keeps all those nesting materials on hand.

Sprawled out on the floor of his completed big nest, Cub digs out his phone to check who's coming. Something about this being his own nest, built by his own hands has him purring nonstop.

Surely a couple-

Ah.

Okay, the food order is going to have to be significantly larger than expected. Cub supposes this is an intriguing scientific curiosity. He confirms his apartment as the location.

As host, food is of course his responsibility. Good thing he knows everyone's preferred orders, and can puzzle a little something together from that. The kitchen island counter can be set up as a buffet, right? That works? Then everyone can take whatever they want.

Gathering the willpower to get out of his nest is harder than Cub anticipated, but he does it anyway. Helps to be able to float, not having to fight the soft ground for balance.

Everyone coming is technically familiar enough to get their own plates and such, but Cub still sets the basics out. Plates, glasses, napkins, cutlery. Anyone wanting anything else can help themselves.

Just as Cub is finishing up, putting the last of the cutlery in the decorative holders he has for this express purpose, the door slides open.

"Rubadub!" Tango cheers, launching himself across the room and into Cub's side. A bone crushing hug, then Tango pulls back to look at him. "Wait. Why are you blue? Did I miss something?" Almost panicked, Tango looks around. As if Hotguy were crouched atop Cub's cabinetry.

“Huh, so I am. Matches better.” Cub swishes his tail, considering. He leans into Tango, nuzzling Tango’s cheek. “First to arrive, quick as ever.” Maybe it would be nice to see Neit chase Tango around a bit. Neit hunting sounds pleasant enough to bring a hum out of Cub.

For now, Tango is nice and warm to snuggle against. Comfy cozy to snuggle into, kneading Tango's lap while Tango coos. "Well aren't you the cutest lil kitty ever? Who's the cutest kitty? You are!" Tango's warm claws scritch through Cub's hair, while Tango's burning tail flicks back and forth in excitement.

Right in front of Cub, who tracks every flick with preying eyes.

Sounds fade back under the swaying of that moving light. Back and forth. Back. Forth.

Cub lunges! Snaps his fangs down!

Yowls through teeth still clenched around his burning prey, shaking his head sharply.

"Ghh-GAH!" Tango shrieks, jumping. "Cub! Are you okay?" The light in Cub's mouth shines brighter for a moment, before going out. "What happened there, buddy?" Soft fingers pet Cub's cheek, coaxing him to spit out his fiery prize.

Cub blinks up at Tango. Fingers do tempt him enough to loose his jaws and lick at them instead. "My-" A small cough. “My apologies. The instincts can be. Quite strong at times.” At least he hadn't taken over an hour to come to most of his senses. This time.

"Never mind the instincts, is your mouth okay? It was literally just full of fire!" Tango doesn't wait for a reply, instead prying Cub's mouth open to check inside.

Cub’s attempt to acknowledge that his mouth hurts is cut short, with him not wanting to slice up Tango’s fingers on his new fangs. Cub isn’t all that bothered. He’ll have to use some of the mouthwash formulation of the healing and anti-scarring ointments, which never tastes good, but it’s-

“His what was full of fire?” Hm. This is perhaps not the ideal time for Doc to arrive. Cub’s ears tuck down.

"His mouth. Little fucker has hunting instincts, and chomped my tail. While it was on fire. Now get over here and please confirm for me that this is indeed a second degree burn on an entirely too large area of the roof of his mouth." Tipping Cub's head further back, Tango points to something, his reignited tail coming down to provide illumination.

"Let me see that." Doc is already across the room and beside him, reaching for Cub's head as well. What those large hands would feel like scritching him? Or petting long strokes over his bac-

"Mh, yes, that is indeed a second degree burn. Promising to develop a large blister too. Cool your fingers, cool, not cold, and press them to the area. I will now go and call Skizz, tell him to hurry his butt up." Doc checks Tango's finger temperature with his metal hand, nodding before pushing himself up, already digging for his phone.

Cub whines with as much pathetic as he can mimic from Neit, at the loss of Doc's hands on him. At least he gets Tango's fingers again as a consolation prize, cooling the area. Perfect for careful nibbling.

Really, this is all a bit much. For them to not just demand Skizz heal him, but also demand Skizz rush to do so. Cub's managed worse before. It will be nice to be able to eat his food without bracing himself, though.

'hello. nice to see you too.' Cub texts to Doc, with a thought. Just to show that Doc getting fingers into Cub's mouth hasn't actually shut him up. And to see if he stumbles his call any.

Doc doesn't react. With as many notifications as Doc gets every day, that makes sense, but one never knows when circumstances might align. Doc does turn to Cub, giving a quick finger wiggle in his direction, before focusing on what Skizz is saying again.

"I can't believe you actually did that. Doesn't that hurt?" Tango chatters away next to Cub, even though Cub can't really answer him right now. Well. Cub can text him.

'a bit.' Cub sends. 'like i ate too spicy food'

Tango's explained to Cub before that he doesn't know what burns feel like. Or what being too hot or too cold feels like. The closest Tango gets is with things like capsaicin, or menthol, which activate the nerve receptors without the corresponding temperature. Not that Tango isn't also one of those people who can and will eat insanely spicy things without breaking a sweat.

"But spicy food is good! There's no such thing as too spicy!" Tango huffs.

Cub just leans into him more. No point in getting up for the mouthwash if Skizz will be here soon anyway, so he might as well cuddle back up to Tango properly.

"Snugglebug." Tango teases, pressing a kiss to Cub's hair, right next to his ear.

"He's on his way." Doc reports, joining them again. Feeling the part-creeper curl around them, Tango extinguishes his flames. Better to not get those too close to the defensive exploding pods hidden in Doc's fur. They may be tiny, but they pack a punch. Meant to be launched, they usually stay inert while on the body, but high temperatures do run the risk of setting them off.

Cub hums his acknowledgment, ears bopping happily and in what he hopes is a tempting way. Thus far there has been an insufficient amount of petting him, and Cub would like to rectify that situation posthaste.

He must be tempting enough, because Tango reaches his free hand up for one of them rubbing behind it. Cub melts into the touch, purring happily again.

With a chuckle, Doc kicks up his own purr around them. "You are just a lazy kitten wanting to be spoiled right now, little horror?" Doc grins wide, flashing his own fangs at them.

Between the purring, the rubs, and the cool fingers in his mouth, both speaking and nodding are out, so Cub resorts to texting both Doc and Tango his 'yes', which has both of them snorting.

Why shouldn’t he indulge? It’s his own special party in honor of becoming an interesting specimen. Cub scoots himself enough that he can get his hands on Doc’s side, sinking his fingers into the soft fluff. Perfect for kneading. This is the life.

Cub just lets them pamper him, time slipping past until-

“Rub-a-dub Cub!” Their next arrival.

"Skizzlywhizzly!" Tango cheers. The only reason his hand stays in Cub's mouth is because Doc grabs Tango's wrist in time. "Over here! Got a poor injured kittycat here for you!"

Cub blinks, finding himself peering up at fluffy wings. Clicks spills out of him around Tango's fingers.

"Ow!" Tango yelps. "Come on, open up."

"I dunno, you seem to be getting on great as a chew toy." Skizz snickers, flicking on his phone's light to get a good look inside Cub's mouth.

"Can it!" Tango snips, holding Cub's mouth open wide.

Being married to Tango, Skizz is familiar with burns of all kinds. Having him here to look at Cub's mouth really is the best case scenario.

"Yeah, got yourself a nasty burn right there. How did this happen again? Something about eating Top's tail?"

"He did! Chomped right into the end like the lil chomper he is! Complete chompification! He's lucky I didn't burn him worse!" Now that Skizz is here, Tango is allowing himself to fret. Cub knows Tango hates accidentally burning people.

Cub can only shrug, not really able to participate in the conversation. Texting Skizz would only slow down the whole getting healed so he can talk again process, inefficient.

Cub does hope they're enjoying the view of his fangs while working, at least. He lets his eyes close, already familiar with the dancing lights that can accompany Skizz's healing. All he has to do is relax and wait.

Bright tingles, like mint poprocks, fill his mouth. A sensation he's familiar with on most of his body, though new to his tongue. Not something Cub'd go looking for a repeat of, were he given his choice.

Tango's fingers don't withdraw, even after the tingle of healing fades. Instead, they keep Cub's jaws spread wide while Skizz's fingers, stuffed in Cub's mouth alongside Tango's, pet over Cub's teeth and curl around his fangs. Minimal shuffling around him, Cub finds himself leaning back against Tango, on Tango's lap, with Skizz towering over him. Tango's hand, the one not in Cub's mouth, comes up to cup Cub's cheek and jaw from behind. Almost as if Tango is presenting Cub to Skizz.

Now that Cub's no longer obliged to hold still for the healing, Cub lazily licks at the fingers in his mouth. Both rough in different ways, calluses and tiny electrical burns. Claws and blunt fingernails. Tasty treats to gnaw on.

Cub rumbles contentedly, flicking an ear. He barely remembers to text Skizz a 'thanks, man', before the relaxation get him again, sinking back into Tango's displaying.

"Should we be worried about shock, or-" Skizz starts.

"No, this is normal. For him." Doc assures, quite helpfully. A boon, he is.

"Food's here!" A familiar voice calls from the door. "Where d'ya want me to set it?"

"He has everything set up on the kitchen counter. Wait a second, I will help you." Doc extracts himself from the nest, now that Cub is fine, padding off to go help Lizzie with food setup. "Where did you leave that little husband of yours? I know he is not on shift. Is he not coming?"

"Oh, he's busy working on his little models again. I think he just got a new one in, some kind of car? Or something." Lizzie shrugs, bustling around with getting the food laid out. "Won't be seeing him for days, you know how it is. Like Ren with a new guitar." She commiserates.

"My condolences." Doc smiles. "However, should you find yourself with some spare time on your hands and nozing to fill it with, I recently saw this wonderful paper on applied healing emergency field medicine, and would love your take on it." He lets her load his large arms full of food, efficiently reducing the trips back and forth as they talk.

"You'll have to send me the link, sounds fascinating." Lizzie agrees.

Anything beyond that, Cub loses to blunted fingers stroking his tongue. Cub's wings lift up and out slightly, angling to catch the light.

"Oho, Cubster! Gettin' more active with the wingies there? Spending time around a special birdy, perhaps?" Skizz gently rubs.

"Yeah, that display is... not subtle, Cubby. Even I caught that." Tango agrees, draping himself onto Skizz from the side, and being promptly tucked under a huge off-white wing.

The allure of conversation outweighing the allure of fingers, Cub pulls back off of them. "Been given some mild reason to think of wings lately." Cub does the little shivery shake he's seen Ari do before tucking his wings down.

Ari moves his wings so much, all the time, Cub's sure it means things. He's going to work until he understands all of it.

"What reasons?" Skizz studies Cub, squinting.

"Has Cuteguy shown any particular interest in any specific villains?" Cub asks instead, reminded.

The couple looks at each other. "Not me." Tango shakes his head. "Nor Impy, as far as I know."

"No one coming through has complained of an especially vicious bird on their butts either." Skizz adds.

"Hm." While it would've been nice if this were just as easy as asking, Cub suspected more digging would be required. He'll have to figure out how to do so without attracting too much unwanted attention. At least, not to Vex or Cub.

"Is my Cubby getting greedy? Going for the whole set, huh?" Tango prods Cub's cheeks. "Checking that you're not stepping on any toesies?"

"Greedy, I'll say! Bit late to be checking now though. This deal looks about done and dusted from here." Skizz chuckles.

Cub tips his head, chirring inquisitively. Cuteguy had very explicitly told him that the deal was precisely not that thing, so what's Skizz seeing?

"Who's the lucky birdy, then?" Skizz asks.

"No, what do you mean done and dusted?" Cub demands, not letting go of Skizz's comment.

"You've got a feather in your hair. Might as well have on a ring. Because somehow, I doubt that ended up there by accident." Skizz motions to Cub's head, to where the braided-in feather sits.

Next to him, Tango giggles. "I still remember how upset you were about not being able to braid feathers into my fire-hair when you first started courting me." He turns to Cub, conspiritorial. "This idiot here tried his hand at arts and crafts to get to decorate me with his feathers."

"Hey! We weren't gonna talk about that!" Skizz flaps his wings, buffeting Tango. The tableau is- Remarkably familiar.

Tango cackles, unrepentant.

"So, feathers in hair is. Important?" Cub thinks about the way Neit had pestered Ari, until his own hair was full of feathers. "That's courting? Are there non-courting ways to do it?"

"The gesture can be platonic. Overall, feathers to decorate are tokens of affection. It's the context they're given in that matters." Skizz explains.

"Like hot-gluing a feather to a ring box when proposing." Tango chimes in, grinning widely.

“How was I supposed to know you’d radiate enough heat to melt it when proposed to!” Skizz grabs Tango into a loose headlock, grinding his knuckles into Tango’s hair.

Platonic. Affection. Cub hesitates to think that’s why. The context? Ari questioning his sanity. Perhaps Ari was simply in a good mood after Neit got him off, and Cub was the lucky beneficiary of that.

"So?" Skizz looks up at Cub, still keeping Tango trapped, the skin on Skizz's arm and hands looking like a pineapple. "Who's the lucky birdy? You didn't say."

“I didn’t.” Cub nods. Still pondering the implications. He’d already figured out by now that Cuteguy and Hotguy were partners in more ways than one. And Cub knows where he stands with Neit. But with Ari? The messages could not be more mixed. Still, Cub has an opportunity, if only he can figure out how to seize it.

"Aww, Rub-a-Dub feeling shy? It's Cuteguy, isn't it? That pattern and color are real distinctive. He's practically stamped his name on your forehead." Letting Tango free, Skizz leans into get a closer look at the feather. "Makes sense too, he's always hangin' around hot-rod guy, who you're so down bad for."

“Still figuring some things out.” Cub hums. “He does have a distinctive pattern, doesn’t he?” Cub’s fingers twitch. He’s sure he’d be able to tell which way was dyed, if he could get his hands in Ari’s feathers proper. Giving a feather like this seems like it would have to be his civilian colors faked somehow, but that’s unsustainable. Isn’t it?

"What's all this about Cuteguy?" Plate in hand, Lizzie plops down in the nest next to Skizz.

“He’s pink.” Cub says, first thought in his mind as he looks at Lizzie’s hair.

“Oh we were just helping ol’ Cubby-Dubby here with studying some culture, now weren’t we?” Skizz tries to smooth over.

“The crush is real!” Tango gleefully cackles.

"Culture exchange? What kind of culture?" Crossing her legs, Lizzie sets her plate in her lap, biting into one of the party sandwiches.

“Avian culture.” Skizz puffs up, all prideful.

Cub’s distracted from answering by his ear swiveling to catch the bark of a laugh by the entrance.

“Hey-hey, chill buddy. That’s just Ren.” Tango resumes rubbing Cub’s ears, chasing away unreasonable tension.

"Aw, isn't he cute!" Lizzie coos at Cub. "Have you tried chin scritches? I bet he likes those." She turns to Skizz. "So what bits of avian culture are you sharing? I wanna learn too."

Cub nods. He is cute. Very.

Skizz investigates the proposed chin scritches, pulling loud purrs from Cub.

“Nothin’ much. Just talkin’ about feather decorations~” Tango wiggles his eyebrows. “You know. Birdy shows of affection.”

"Ohh, did Cubby get a feather?" Lizzie asks, peering around. "Was it from you, Skizz?" She blinks over at him. When he just looks back, confused, she sputters. "Wait. You don't mean to tell me... Cuteguy?"

"We sure think so! Only Cub here has yet to confirm it!" Skizz cheerfully replies, adjusting his fingers to have a hint of claw. The change has Cub flopping forward with all the aplomb of a wet noodle.

Lizzie runs careful fingers through Cub’s hair. “Well, I’ll be. That certainly looks like one of his.”

“If the Queen of Pinks says so herself, it’s gotta be!” Tango declares.

Cub tries to make words, but all that comes out is a tumble of random chirps. Like the ones he’s been hearing for days.

"Oh my, how forward Cubby!" A dusting of pink colors Skizz's cheekbones. "Who taught you those?"

"Probably not taught." Lizzie chimes in. "Cats are excellent mimics when it comes to chirps, so those are probably the ones Cuteguy has been making around him lately."

Cub blinks. What has Ari been saying around him? Neit gleefully repeating them doesn’t really rule any possibilities out.

Sorry, no Cub here to give answers, only cute cat. Cub mimics squeaky Tango-sounds.

"See? My point!" Lizzie squeals, as laughter erupts around them. Cub just purrs. They're in his nest, happy, and being fed. He's getting amazing scritches. What more could he ask for?

"What'd he say? Before the super manly me noises?" Tango asks, looking at Skizz.

"I'll tell you when you're older." Skizz snickers.

Tango lunges at Skizz, showing his own chompers. Skizz just catches Tango up and squishes him close while Tango flails.

Doc's hand slides over Cub's mouth, turning Cub away from that flicking tuft of fur, to look into Doc's captivating laser pointer of an eye. "We are not having a repeat showing, little horror."

Light gleams in the red lens, mocking Cub. He must catch it. He must.

Phasing free of Doc's hold, Cub uses his claws to climb the brick wall of Doc, pouncing and scrabbling at the eye and surrounding metal plating.

Cub mrewls his triumphant hunting, Doc catching his legs before he can get into a good rhythm of kicking. Nothing to be done but gnaw at Doc’s face.

Doc sighs. Flopping down, Doc's sprawled out body is immediately used as a backrest by Lizzie and Skizz, Cub throwing one leg over Doc's shoulder to better balance during his gnawing.

Hm. An accidental bump of Cub’s cheek against Doc’s horn. Knobbly.

Change of plans! Cub rubs his cheek all along Doc’s horn, enjoying the ridges.

Big, strong fingers come up to pet Cub's ears. Rub in all the right ways to have Cub's entire body melt to goo where it stands. Stradles. Standadles.

"There we go. That's a good kitty." Doc chuckles, laying out the purring mess that is Cub on his lap. Where everyone can reach and pet Cub.

Several familiar hands join in, across Cub's ears and tail and fingers. Sweet nothingness and easy purring reign supreme in Cub, interrupted only by occasional morsel treats, hand-fed to him.

Cub feels the presence of Cyberpulse before he hears or smells the man. Despite a longstanding agreement for the other villain keeping his technopathy off of Cub's implants, there's simply no avoiding Cub's awareness of its nearby presence.

Just the tip of Cub's tail thwaps Skizz's arm in a rapid beat, while Cub's ears tuck back. "You." Frigid ice-crackle echo fills Cub's tone, one single slitted eye cracking open to focus in on Impulse.

"Me?" Impulse squeaks, ducking down as if that would save him from Cub's wrath. He's right to be scared. Given what he knows Cub has done to others that dared tread where they should not. Dared touch what Cub has claimed.

"Do you have something to confess." Cub grants the opportunity to fess up only as a courtesy to a longstanding acquaintance, eyes flashing with red glow.

"I don't know, I barely touched Hotguy last time we fought, last time I even saw him was through your feed, which you know about because you were talking to me at the time, uh, what else, oh I ate the last slice of pizza you guys were looking for the other week, and I might have slightly exceeded the embezzlement limit you set? I'm sorry, I don't know what else-"

"Dipple dop!" Skizz puffs up, offended. "Our pizza!?"

"I told you so! Don't be fooled by his stoic looks and handsome charm!" Tango chimes in. "He's a monster!"

"He doesn't look stoic right now." Lizzie drawls.

"We will have words about the embezzlement mishap later." Cub intones.

Impulse starts to perk up.

"If. If there is a later to be had." Cub finishes, watching the crestfallen crumple of Impulse's expression with satisfaction.

"At least tell me what I did? Before you make an example of me?" Impulse asks quietly. So he knows he's not getting out of this unpunished. Good.

A heavy hand settles on the back of Cub's neck.

"Luckily for you, you won't need to be made a public example." Cub can give that much. No public-facing incident, after all, given the way Neit seems to have simply given up on the idea of a bodycam quietly.

There's a collective exhale from around him. Mind, Cub would need more betrayal than this incident to him to disappear any of them, but he can't be seen granting too much quarter.

He can understand their worry, though. Impulse is their friend. Husband.

"If you use your powers to interfere with his equipment again, I will not be so lenient." Cub stares Impulse down, unblinking eyes bright.

"When did I- oh. Oh. That's been years! And I didn't even need powers for that! There were basically no protections on it!" Impulse protests.

Cub just keeps up his stare.

"Fine! Fine! No interfering with his equipment, powers or no." Impulse crumples like so much wet paper.

"Excellent. I am pleased that we could come to an understanding." Cub primly licks the back of his own hand, flexing out his claws, just once.

"Aw, what a sweet little kitty-cat." Lizzie giggles, rubbing under Cub's chin. "What a good little hunter, yes you are."

"And Cuteguy too." Cub remembers what he promised Neit. "No interfering with Cuteguy's equipment either."

"Oh, come on!" Impulse groans, flopping himself across Skizz's lap.

"Does that count as a confirmation?" Tango muses.

"Good enough for me!" Skizz cheerfully rubs Impulse's back.

"You want the little birdie all to yourself too, hm?" Lizzie pets down Cub's front.

"I'll take that as confirmation." Cub purrs the words as his eyes fade back to a pale glow, then actually purrs. So maybe Neit was onto something when he asked Cub to enact this transformation again, but on purpose.

Which is only going to be all the more difficult with someone having put Hotguy off of bodycams. But. Cub didn't get where he is by giving up. He did it once. He can do it again. The only question is how long it will take to narrow down the factors, refine the process.

"I meant-" Tango starts, immediately getting muffled by Skizz's hand.

"Leave well enough be." Skizz holds the squirmy Tango, conceding to giving more heatproof petting.

Lizzie feeds Cub a strip of steak before he can muster up the thought to care what that was about.

"Did I miss something?" With a rustle of silk, Mumbo sits down in a free spot in the loose circle around Cub. He holds his hand out to Cub, expecting a handshake, as they always do.

Instead, Cub bites his fingers. Not hard. Just a playful bite. To show affection. And when Mumbo doesn't move his hand away? Well, that's all the invitation Cub needs to butt his head against it, rubbing and mrewling to demand scritches.

"Nah-" Skizz starts.

“Yep, you missed everything. Everything forever. All gone!” Tango gleefully cackles.

Mumbo, however, looks to be fully captivated by Cub, as he should be. Neatly manicured nails scritch the base of Cub’s ears, getting yet more purring.

"Do you think he tastes any different now?" Skizz turns to Mumbo, as Lizzie is holding out another morsel for Cub to eat from her fingers.

"I wouldn't know." Mumbo demurs. "Why don't you try for yourself? He's just as available to you as he is to me."

"Try him myself? But me biting him won't do anything!" Skizz snatches up one of Cub's hands, biting his arm. "Pfee?"

"Oh, you mean that sort of taste?" The faintest hint of red colors Mumbo's cheeks. "I thought you meant kissing, or perhaps other fluids. I don't really think it's appropriate right now, besides, I'm not particularly hungry."

"Skizz, you are fully capable of having fangs. You bit me just last-" Impulse gets smothered under Skizz's wings.

"Shh! He's just gettin' to the good colors!" Skizz adds some bapping with his hands for good measure.

"Hey!" Mumbo protests.

Oof! Mrwl? A heavy weight flings itself down onto Cub, two feelers bopping all over the top of his head and face. "Cubby! Look at you!"

The weight is comfortable. If only it would stop wiggling-

"Cubcub!" Pearl's face is right up in his, with her taking advantage of the proximity to press kisses to him everywhere. After a while of tiny peppered smooches, she claim her usual greeting kiss. Nice, long, and deep.

"Ay! Quit hoggin him, Pearlie-Pop! Other people wanna taste him too!" Skizz butts in. He doesn't break their kiss, instead shoving his face right up in both of their faces, so that turning to kiss him barely requires any moment at all.

"Then you shoulda just done it insteada sittin' here yappin' about it!" Pearl snickers, slipping down to nibble at Cub's throat.

Between Skizz's lips on his, Doc's thumbs digging into the muscles between his wings, and Pearl's teeth on his throat, Cub doesn't know which way to turn or to press himself. Easier to go boneless, allowing himself to be handled and pampered.

---

FWMPOP!

Popcorn explodes out of Grian's fancy 'splody machine, to the tune of Scar cheering. Filling up the catchy bag, to be safely dumped into the bowl. Mixy it all up in the caramelly butter juice and a teeny flakening of salt, for good-good tastiness.

Scar sets aside the hot metal chamber into the metal sink, making sure-sure not to scorch Grian's countertops.

And the cocoa's looking just about ready to pour as well! They can come back for what won't fit in the mugs later. Grian had bargained him down to using the tray to carry everything in exchange for five less minutes of research-time, so Scar loads that up.

Time to get back to Grian, before Grian finds some red strings to break out! Thankfully, his pretty bird has yet to escalate to that level. So far, Grian's in his bed-nest, tappying away at his laptop.

"Food!" Scar calls softly.

Looking up, Grian greets him with a warm smile. "Set it there." He motions to a nightstand that peeks over the edge of the nest, easy to access while inside. "You better not have made a mess of my kitchen. No finding stray popcorn for days."

"I told you, I've got it tamed. It exploded out right into the bag." Scar rolls his eyes. Down with the tray onto the nightstand, and into the nest with Scar himself. "Now, your researchy time is up, tell me all your fancy findings."

"So either he named you for the Irish god of war and horsebreeding, a technological institute, or the Egyptian goddess of war and motherhood. Her symbol is two crossed bows, so. Yeah. I don't know what to tell you." Grian flips the laptop so Scar can see the screen, flicking through tabs and pointing at different pictures as he talks.

Scar takes the turning of the laptop as an opportunity to insert himself onto Grian's lap. He jabs a finger at one of the pictures.

"Yeah, it's Egypty." Scar asserts with full confidence. Vex told him that. If Grian had asked, Scar could have told Grian that. But Grian just got so cutely excited to do his own research, how could Scar deny him?

"You could have told me that! Now I wasted precious research time on the Irish dude!" The back and side of Scar's head is subjected to a flurry of headwing bashes.

"You could have asked~" Scar snickers, eyes glimmering mischief. "You just assumed I didn't know anything, didn't you~?" He accepts the battering of Grian's little wings with nothing more than a sharp grin.

"I assumed that good-for-nothing bastard hadn't told you anything." Grian grumps.

"I get these special Neit privileges." Scar idly swings his feet. "Where I do this silly little thing called asking him stuff, and he tells me." In fact, he has extra extra special asking privileges, but Grian doesn't need to know about the two of those Scar still has in reserve. No doubt Grian would covet one for himself, if he knew.

"Oh yeah? What other special privileges do you get? And what do you have to do for them? I've seen how you two work. I know this is a deal of some sort." Grian hisses.

"I get so so many special privileges. Too many to list!" Scar smiles with all his fangs. "He got the bum deal of having to hear about my ouches for that one." Scar winks.

"To hear about your ouches-" Grian repeats. "You traded your medical information for this?! Do you have any idea how identifying that is?! It's a miracle he hasn't tracked us down yet!"

"Grian. Come on." Scar cups Grian's cheeks. "Do you know how many times he's had me in that scanning tube of his? Do you really think there's anything I could tell him with words that could be even half as identifying as that?" Sure, sure, Scar's not making it easy for Vex to track them down, keeping visible identifying information away. But Scar's not under any illusions that Vex couldn't have found them both several times over, by now, if he truly wanted to.

"Just how often does he put you in the tube?" Grian narrows his eyes at Scar.

"Oh, ya know, it's not really a visit to his place if I don't go in the tube!" Scar chirps. "Part of his 'Don't Grey Slurry Neit's Brain' campaign, you know." Scar adds. "Joke's on him, it was a slurry before he ever arrived on the scene-"

"This has been going on the whole time?" Grian looks faintly green around the gills. "Every time?"

"Well, I don't really recall anything of the first two? I think it's the first two stays, but every time after that, yep! I go in the tube." Scar nods.

Grian fumbles forward, hands feeling up Scar's chest and neck and cheeks and into Scar's hair, as if he could find something missing there, something misplaced. "I didn't know." Grian breathes the words. "I didn't- I don't- I shouldn't have given him so much time with you."

"Tube time's not bad." Scar tries to soothe. "Just boring, really. He chats with me, while I'm in there, sometimes."

Grian's fingers tighten, clutching Scar's head. "What does he say?" Very obviously, Grian's imagination is getting away with him. And that's Scar's job!

"Asks me things about the movies we watch. Went on this long rant about sound in space once, I don't recall the details. We had a nice chat about lightsabers. He said he's thinking about seeing if he can make some, and wanted to know what they are in canon!" That really was a fun conversation. Mostly because Vex had never heard of kyber. And was so endlessly baffled by Scar's very simple and clear explanations. Scar still wants a lightsaber though, even if kyber isn't really-really real. He hopes Vex manages to make some. Then Scar could simply shop for them!

"No real lightsabers." Grian insists, like a killjoy. Like the protest a lifeline, something familiar to grasp.

"Vexy's gonna figure out how to make me some and then we're gonna duel atop the tippy toppy highest building with them." Scar cackles gleefully. Sure Vex hasn't actually heard this plan, but Scar's sure he'll agree!

"You are not. You know how much hassle it is to reattach a finger, do you really want to do the same with an arm? Or a leg? Besides, you could bleed out in seconds!" He manages to catch Grian's hands as they reach for Grian's feathers. He presses kisses to every single knuckle while Grian poofs up and frets.

"Nu-uh. It'd cauterize, you'd have perfect Scar-steak slices! No bleeding out even a little!" Scar is going to have to make Grian watch the whole series of movies again, if he's already forgetting basic mechanics like that.

"That's even worse! That's dead cells!" Grian protests. "That's begging to get an infection!"

"Hm, I dunno. I think dead is slightly worse than infection." Scar kisses along the length of Grian's arm.

"Because you don't have to take care of you when you're sick." Grian snips. "Besides, infections make you dead, like super fast."

"Oh, don't worry. We've got our Lizzie, and worst case, she has to take me to see the loaf again. The loaf is nice! I bet he could make the infecty all nice and better again." Scar chirps. He just basically volunteered to go see a doctor! Grian should be proud!

"That loaf is very clearly on Vex's speed dial. And too affectionate with him! They have something going on!" Grian fluffs his wings out.

"Well yeah, they're friends. Like us." Scar rolls his eyes at Grian. He thought that would be obvious. "Dr. Loafman still has too many medicy rules though."

"All the more reason not to trust him any more than Vex!" Grian insists.

"No more." Scar nods. "And no less." He gives Grian a knowing look.

"Ugh, fine. In an emergency. And I'm looking up his credentials online. Can't just let some hack work on you." Grian tries to go for his laptop again, but Scar holds both his hands firm. "Speaking of working. Since you won't let me google. What was that with Vex mentioning you know things about fae turning?"

"You used up all your allotted device research time." Scar reminds Grian, rubbing Grian's hands thoroughly to his cheeks. "And yes! Vexy told me all about fae turning!" Scar perks up, bouncing in place as if he were on Grian's lap for a different reason-

"Really."

"Uhuh! About all the stabby needles and the cutting-slicing and the wing planting!" Scar nods rapidly and repeatedly, digging through his memories of that conversation.

Grian groans, smacking his face into Scar's shoulder. "You like that. You like the idea. Him slicing you open." He accuses.

"Yes, fuck yes." Scar moans, sweet and low. "If he can cut me open and I get functional wings out of the deal? I'm already there." Scar wraps his arms around Grian, squeezing him tight.

"So why didn't you do it? Demand he cut you open then and there? Before I was there to stop you, like you knew I would. I know you, there's no way you wouldn't have seized that chance unless it came with a massive downside. So tell me. What price did he put on it?" Scar can feel Grian steeling himself.

"I-" Scar sags, looking away. "He won't. He doesn't- It's- The turning makes him vulnerable, and he doesn't trust me enough for that." Of course Scar wanted it. Of course he would have jumped at the chance if Vex had been even slightly willing.

But Vex had turned him down. Hopefully, one day, Vex will trust Scar enough to do it. And Grian will trust Vex enough to be okay with it.

"Of course it does! It probably costs him a fuckton of magic!" Grian shouts. A series of bird noises follow, only some of which Scar knows. Mate, he hears. Grian's been tweeting that one a lot, especially these past few days. To not have to answer right away, Scar sets to lick-grooming Grian's face.

Scar mumbles out a chirp of flock, even though his ears are still drooped. "He would have to grow me wings." Scar yearns to be able to chase this two beloved flighted hearts into the sky. But he can't ask that of Vex, not now. He can't ask that of Grian, who is still struggling with Vex at all.

"Are his wings grown? Do you know?" Grian asks. 'Is Vex turned?', the unvoiced question. They had always assumed Vex had moved here from outside the city, in whatever attempts were made to locate him. If he hadn't, if he had been turned from an ordinary human, Vex could be anyone.

"I- Don't know for certain." Scar has his suspicions, certainly. With the way Vex was talking about them not scarring over, not growing, and having to repair them, earlier? Scar has a strong suspicion.

He just... doesn't know if he should tell Grian. A hesitation drowning him in guilt.

"But...?" Grian prompts. Pesky bird can always tell when Scar isn't telling the truth. Or trying to keep something big from him.

"But your jaws clamp tight." Scar sighs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Grian's. Grian on the scent of Vex's civilian identity, with real information behind him this time? Scar's gut churns. "What would you do? If you found out who he is?" Scar asks quietly, not opening his eyes. He needs to know.

"I would-" Grian begins immediately, and halts just as abruptly. "I would..." His second try comes with far less conviction than the first. "He's a criminal, Scar!" The protest comes bursting out of Grian, heated.

"So is Joel, pretty bird." Scar says softly. So am I. "I don't see you gearing up to turn him in anytime soon."

"That's- Joel is- that's different!" Grian protests.

"How?" One simple question. That's all it takes to make Grian fall silent for long heartbeats.

"He's just- Doing a job. We all have to work to get by." Grian finally says. "I trust Joel, not to- For him, to be... selective. About it. He's an ass, but he's not- He's not bad."

"And Vex can't be selective? He has to be bad? All because you don't trust him?" Scar asks. If Grian can trust Joel, why not Vex?

“I don’t- I don’t have any reason to trust him! And I have every reason not to!” Grian insists. “He’s doing crime for- What? Fun? There’s no earthly way of knowing what he’ll do next!” Grian splits his wings, rubbing them together in rapid little motions.

"I fully trust it will be some convoluted scheme he claims will let him take over the city, most likely involving something I'm interested in as well as fireworks, which Hotguy will foil by blowing up Vex's machine and smashing Vex's face into the pavement. All with a remarkably low amount of property damage and injuries." Scar grins at Grian. He knows his Vexy.

"That's what he does under light of day, sure. For now. And then he steals you, puts you in his- Damn lab. Promises you- All sorts of things. Changes you." Grian looks lost for a moment, before re-gathering his thoughts. "So who knows what else he's doing. He's in contact with at least one other known villain! Collaborating!"

"He hasn't broken his promises." Scar's voice is small.

"Yet." Grian's judgment rings of thunder.

"How long is long enough? How much proof is proof?" Scar wishes he didn't sound as plaintive as he does.

"Certainly not now, less than even a month. Maybe this is his big move, after years of biding his time. Blinding you with shiny weasel-worded promises."

"What if it isn't?" Scar asks.

"You can't just expect to ensorcell everyone you meet down to their bones." Grian sighs.

"You weren't there. You didn't- He refused to do more than cuddle because he was worried about me, even though it was so painfully obvious he wanted more, Grian. We had a whole fight about it. An actually yelly-shouty fight." Scar goes to cup Grian's face, dragging Grian's hands he's still holding. Their hands end up tangled along Grian's jawline, intertwined and cradling at the same time.

"He's not supposed to worry about you- He was probably just- Worried about whatever project he's doing to you. Messing it up, or something." Grian says the words, but there's no thunder in these. The echoes of memories haunt Grian's eyes, darting. Scar wonders which ones. Vex, under his lash? Or, instead of memory, is he trying to imagine the fight?

"If he's doing anything to me, he did it to himself first." There's no way Vex lied about that.

"I don't know, maybe he did. Or maybe someone did. Maybe he really has been replaced! Or changed himself." Grian squirms in Scar's hands, but doesn't pull away.

"No, he's still the same Vex." Of that Scar is certain.

"How can you know that? What proof do you have?" Always so focused on evidence, his Grian.

"He feels the same." His certainty not a thing he can explain. Scar simply knows, deep in his bones, that this is his Vexy, not some impostor.

"The same as what? How far back are you going to tell me you know what he feels like?"

"Since the first time I saw him? He's still the same person. I'm certain." Scar nods.

"The first time. When an upshot nobody came right out of the gates, gunning for you. Like he planned just what to do to draw you out. Like he's been playing a shell game all along." Grian chews through the words as they flow out of him.

"Someone was bound to snatch me up for archnemesisship sooner or later. I'm too amazing to not have one." Scar puts on his best dazzling Hotguy grin. "So what if he liked me even back then?"

"So what if he potentially studied you and manipulated you into that archnemesisship? Do you hear yourself?" Grian's headwings puff out.

"I wouldn't call it manipulated. Maybe courted. Like you birdies with your wing-spreading and singing and shiny gifts and feather braids. He offered, showed me what a good archnemesis he could be. And I accepted, of course. Do you really think he could dupe me unless I let him?” Scar's grin is razor sharp. Fae. A side of himself he hides well, playing the fool he can often be so very well. Method acting, and all.

"What." If Grian's eyes were any wider, Scar thinks they'd crack and fall right out of his head. Maybe they'd become like licorice candies. The darkness is particularly striking against the pale sheet-white blanch of Grian's cheeks.

Scar leans in, voice low and poison-sweet. "I said that I could see he was courting me, pretty bird of mine. I'm not blind. You, of all people, would know better than to think that. Wouldn't you?"

"Ho- Wh- Since when do you know about avian courting?" Grian's voice shrills in the quiet room.

"Since always." Point sufficiently made, Scar settles back. No longer towering intimidation, instead lounging superiortorily. "I got books on it. They're on my bookshelf at mine, my most gorgeous of birds." A sly smile, a wink, perfect. Grian has only himself to blame for thinking Scar ignorant. So what if Scar may have occasionally used his perceived ignorance to reciprocate the mating behaviors. Shh, that's fully beside the point.

"Books? You don't-"

"I don't bother with the written word unless I have a very good reason to, yes." Scar nods, pressing kisses to Grian's knuckles.

"You're reading too much into th-"

"Don't." Scar growls, teeth prickling sharp against Grian's hand. A suspended breath- Before he puts his smile back. "Avoid it if you like, my sweet, but don't lie to me about that. Not anymore. I'll take you at your word."

Before him, Grian's whole body deflates in the way of a leaky pool toy. A shaky nod is all the answer Scar gets.

Good thing that's all the answer he needs.

Scar draws Grian into his arms, purring steadily and cooing soft, soothing sounds. "We're good, we're good, pretty bird. I'm not going anywhere." Scar gentles his voice into a soothing rumble, now that Grian understands.

Grian clings to him. Neither sobbing nor crying, but it feels close.

"I c- I can't do this. Not yet." A whisper, so low Scar barely hears it.

"I know, darlin'. I didn't want to rush you. Nothin' has to change between us." Scar presses little kisses to Grian's hair. He did very much want to rush Grian, but even more than he wanted that, he didn't want to hurt Grian with the rushing. He can remind himself to take his time, for this. And if nothing develops? He'll still have had the honor and delight of being Grian's close companion and friend. Very worthwhile, to Scar.

That does get a few sniffles out of Grian. Who's still clinging to Scar like Scar's the only thing to exist.

"M'sorr." Mutters muffled by Scar's shirt.

"I'm not." Scar kneads his fingers into the bases of Grian's wings. "I don't regret a single moment."

" 'coa's gettin' cold." Grian slowly shakes himself loose, reaching for a cup.

"And we simply can't have that!" Scar gasps, theatrically aghast. "Do pass me one, so I may do my part."

With a wobbly grin, Grian hands over Scar's mug, nestling the popcorn bowl beside them. He makes no move to go for his discarded laptop, though.

"C- Can you tell me what happened? Last time? How you got to Vex's?" Grian's voice wavers, cracking, but his gaze holds firm. He really wants to know.

Scar reluctantly uses both hands with his cocoa mug, preferring to not cause an issue with an ill-timed wobble, no matter how much he'd like to keep an arm around Grian instead.

"Of course, yeah, I can do that. Where were we? You'd heard about me getting the cuff on him, right?" Scar settles in to tell the tale. This is such a little thing, that Grian's asking of him, how could he not want to offer it up?

At Grian's affirming hum, Scar continues. "Well, so there I was, one cuff on the dastardly Villain's wrist, when suddenly! He, in an unexpected maneuver! Grabs my wrist and slaps the other cuff on it! A never before seen daring move! That totally wasn't possible because of both of us being shocked by the first cuff, no sir!"

Grian snorts into his cocoa.

"And let me tell you, it was mighty rude of him to hog my using-things hand." Scar bemoans. "So rude I popped him one, right to the kisser." Scar mimes a little punch. "Then somehow, we ended up in a stairwell, and fell backwards onto some steps."

"The bruising from your quiver." Grian mumbles, pieces slotting together.

"Exactly. And that was when Vexy first kissed me. Had me pinned to the stairs under him, both of us in full gear. Quite something, let me tell you." Scar takes a moment to sippy his drink, to breathe. That memory, when it decides to show its face, is still scorching hot. "Of course, some noseys were going to catch us, so I smokebombed, and we went up the fireway."

"Ugh. Paparazzi." Grian's tone drips with derision. He chomps sharply on a few bits of popcorn.

"We got away from them, of course. But-" Scar glances at Grian. "I promise, I did try. I really-really tried to bring him in. I was trying to talk him around to going peacefully, when he just." Scar reaches up, fingers tracing over his collar. "The next thing I knew, my collar was on, and going to his place sounded like- A really good idea."

"Does he just... carry your collar around with him?" Grian sounds baffled.

"I don't know. He acted like it was the usual one, but- I didn't find out until much later that there was nothing in it." Scar still has confusion about how that could be. This collar feels the same sometimes, as that floaty good thing the magic does to his head. Makes it quiet and calm.

"Huh. Do you think he can influence you without the need for the collar? And put the fake on you to hide that?" Grian asks, sipping his cocoa with his thinky face.

"Enthralled." Scar muses. Hadn't Vex said that word? "Maybe he can, now. Or maybe I was just that tired." The months of Vex's absence hadn't been kind to Scar's energy levels.

"What happened at his place?" Grian asks. "Did you get right to the fucking and cuddling?"

"No!" Scar tosses up his hands, only barely remembering to be gentle with his cocoa mug, to not slosh it everywhere. "He made me wait days, Grian. Days! While he got the cuffs off, and then puttered around being all stupid and guilty and stuff. Barely even gave me a little kissy-kiss, and I had to do all the cuddling!"

"Rude." Grian sips his drink, frowning. "Why would he be acting guilty? What did he do?"

"He was really convinced he had slurried my brain up or something dumb like that. I swear, you bite a guy to the bone one time, and he goes freaking out on you, can you believe it?" Scar huffs and flounces, flipping his hair.

"You bit him to the bone? Any how exactly, did he think he slurried your brain?" Grian's eyes narrow.

"Look, a collarbone isn't even that deep-" Scar boops Grian right on the nose. "I dunno, he just kept babbling some stupid stuff about the collars changing me, and demanded I do early tube time before he'd damn well listen to me."

"Did he? Listen after?'

"He stared at the brain pictures forever-ever after. And only after that did he get the wax outta his silly ears and start listenin'."

"You mean the scans he sent us?" Grian chirrs out a curious noise.

"I dunno." Scar shrugs. He didn't look at what-all Vex had passed over, though he had thought it was about the kitty-stuff. "Brain pictures with coloryful splotches on them. And he showed me one of his too, from collar testing."

"One of his? What does his brain have to do with collar testing?" Frowning, Grian pulls out his phone. "Also send me the medical files he sent you. I'm going to have Lizzie or Joel confirm what he said."

"Cause it does brain stuff?" Scar wiggles and shuffles until he can reach his phone, then walks through the laborious process of forwarding a thing to Grian. Scar only needs reminders of what to do once or twice- Anyway, the files get sent. Whatever. No more phone time.

...a quick check to see if Vex has texted, which he hasn't, and now no more phone times.

"Where was I?"

"Your story. Vex just listened to you after scans." Scar forever and ever loves Grian's gracious heart. There's no judgment in his voice about Scar forgetting, just a simple reminder.

"The listening! Yes! Vexy listening to me! There was so much kissing, because he promised me all the kisses ever. And then showery times! Why did we -oh! Right! There were showery times because I was still all tied up from tube times! And- and- there were dicks growing on the walls of his shower!" Scar remembers that! In such vivid detail, he trips over his words in his hasty effort to get everything out and said.

"Ugh. At least those weren't there this time." Grian grumbles.

"Of course not, they're mine now!" Scar snickers. "Transplanted them to my shower."

Grian flaps his headwings at Scar's ears.

"Then he did the squeezy-smiley test and lots of kneading and gave me my pet name!" Scar beams proudly.

"Why would he feel the need to do a brain bleed test in the shower? Did you slip and hit your head?" Grian flicks a piece of popcorn at Scar.

"Nah, I was laid out all nice and good on the shelfy-bench. But he was being all name-silly, kept talking to Hotguy." Scar shakes his head.

"While you weren't in mask, thus not responding, of course. Wearing that blue thing instead."

Scar nods enthusiastically. "Because that one's safe for tube-times, hadta switch 'em."

"But this wasn't the first time you were in the tube? What did you do before?" Suspicious cheeps.

"I dunno, I wasn't really paying all that much attention before." Scar shrugs. Not his details to care about. As long as his face stays covered, that's all good.

Grian grumbles, but motions for Scar to carry on.

"So he gave me a name to call me, and he-" Scar's voice hitches, hesitant. Should he mention...? "He laid his claim on me. Well, on Neit, technically." A middle ground, while Scar's mind traces the shape of the bite scar on his thigh until it tingles with phantom sensation.

"The bite." Grian nods.

Scar freezes up. How does Grian-?

"What were either of you thinking with that! Both of them! Not that I really care about his- But human bites are a huge infection risk!" Grian goes off, not noticing Scar's thoughts racing too fast for him to catch a single one.

The silence speaks for itself, at least.

"You weren't thinking, were you?" Grian sighs.

"His did." Scar's mouth manages something before Scar catches up to it. "Get infected, I mean."

"What." Grian stares at him blankly, chin on his chest in disbelief. Scar reaches over to close Grian's mouth. Grian doesn't like it when his shifting slips.

"Yeah all puffy and weepy and stuff. You know, the usual infection things." Scar nods along.

"You bit him."

Scar nods.

"And it got infected."

Another nod.

"And he didn't like... get angry? Yell at you?" Grian blinks at Scar.

"Nah, he ran away. So I set his lab on fire." Perfect sense.

"Wha- ah- lab?" Grian sputters. "Doesn't he have any fire suppression systems? Ohh, of course not, why would he, he's an evil villain, they don't do lab safety."

"Dunno! He locked the door, and I think there were blankets. So I took a nap." Scar wiggles his toebeans.

"A nap. In the room you set on fire. Please tell me you didn't nap in a burning room." Grian looks physically pained to have to ask.

"Well, it's not like I could leave the room. And I was sleepy. Setting all those fancy machines on fire is hard work, you know!" Scar protests.

"You-" Grian sways, then scrabbles for his phone. Hastily tippytaps through it while Scar rescues the cocoa from spilling and ruining the nest. "Here!" A glowing screen is shoved in Scar's face. "You had potentially lethal levels of poison gasses from the fire in you blood! You almost died!" Grian's nearly screeching now, wings fluttering wildly.

"He didn't even let me keep the poison after taking it out." Scar pouts, vaguely remembering that disappointment. "Anyway, Vex wouldn'ta let me die."

"Keep the- that's not ho- Scar! Can we just focus on the fact that you almost died?! Because I'd really rather not have to rely on him to keep you alive!" And there goes Grian's free hand, right into his headwing.

Scar sets both cocoas well out of reach of distraught birds, moving to catch up Grian's free hand. No plucking for his Grian, not while Scar's around! Not if Scar's not the one doing-

"What? You fussbudgets are on about me 'almost dying' like. Every week. It's not that exciting. I'm still here."

"You almost dying on a weekly basis is not a good thing, Scar!" Grian sighs.

"But I'm not dying!" Scar very helpfully points out. "So it all works out." Nod, nod.

"No, you just give me a heart attack and put me in danger of dying every time." Grian counters, trying to shake Scar's hand off his.

"No!" Scar shouts, stricken. He fumbles his hands up to Grian's cheeks, dragging Grian's hand along. "No. I'd almost die a thousand-thousand times, so you don't have to almost die even once."

"Scar. Every time you almost-die, I almost-die. That's just the way it is. The only way to avoid me almost-dying is to not almost-die yourself." Every word sounds precise. Picked for Scar's crystal clear understanding, and nothing else.

"No, I don't-" Scar slips his hands down, drags Grian close to cling onto him. "You don't- How do I- I don't want to hurt you." Chase and pounce and tear into, sure, not hurt-hurt. Not that serious-sad melancholy, that white-knuckled fear.

"I know." Grian says only those two words, looking back at Scar with those deep black eyes that hold such depths of emotion.

Scar only holds Grian tighter, purring out all the words he can't say.

---

"Hm." Mumbo dabs at his lips with a kerchief, as mannered as Cub knows he always is. "Not quite as different as I expected."

Skizz pounces the moment Mumbo's mouth is free, drawing Mumbo into a deep kiss.

"Yeah, I taste no difference either. Still the same ol' Rub-a-Dub Cub flavor! Nooch!" Skizz grins, drawing Mumbo back in for a second kiss.

Mumbo takes the second kiss, pressing Skizz back and pinning him down. Tango idly runs his hands through Skizz's feathers while watching them.

Lizzie draws Cub's attention back, softly perfumed hands gentle as they pet up along his stomach and chest. He should make her more lotion soon. Her work, the constant disinfectant, it's rough on her skin.

Cub had figured he might as well use his knowledge from his own specialty skin needs to help. And she seems to like it, at least enough to use it. So that's pretty nice.

Doc presses a kiss to Cub's forehead. "Back with us, little horror?"

"Yeah." He mumbles. That was... nice. To have so many of his acquaintances friends? Tango said he's Cub's friend. here, in his nest, enjoying themselves. Enjoying him. It's good. It's good. It makes his chest feel like he's purring, even when no sound comes out.

"Good." Doc's large, steady hands smooth down Cub's sides. "Have some of this." An open bottle is held to Cub's lips, getting long blinks before Cub understands to sip. The water flows refreshingly cool down his throat. Perfect. Just what Cub needed. How did Doc know that? He always seems to know what Cub needs, even if Cub doesn't know himself.

Water finished, Cub melts more into Doc's comforting pillow-ness. Good smell, good soft. Having so many people at once- Not that Cub regrets it, but they're still tiring, while also being nice.

"Not with us for long, by the looks of things." Lizzie pets Cub's hair, playing with the loose curls.

"He is tired." Doc hums, smiling. "Wore himself out with all the people and activities."

"Aww, poor baby. Are you tired? Are you?" Lizzie coos.

Is he tired? Cub thinks he might be. Mostly, he's comfy. Cozy. Drifting. Loose softness eating up all his tired. Cub is much too cozy to care about stopping it.

Cub makes a vague effort to coo back to Lizzie, words well too far away for him to grasp, now. Not even Pearl distantly asking who’s a good pup nor Ren barking can touch Cub at the moment.

“Go ahead and nap, little horror. You are safe here.” Doc’s rumbling tones, made soft.

Oh right. Sleep. Yeah, that exists.

So Cub does.

---

Lizzie's keys jingle merrily as she pulls them out of her freshly unlocked front door, stepping inside. "Babe, I'm ho-" She barely gets a chance to speak before Joel is on her, hugging her and running his hands over her.

He counts the flowers in her hair with hands that are clean of paint. “Welcome home, thank fuck.” Kisses to her forehead, to her cheeks.

"You're in quite the tizzy." She pulls his head back to look at his face, once he eventually breaks from kissing like she's the air he needs. "Have you slept at all?" Dark bags line his eyes, forehead creased. Shaky hands rest on her hips, hands that feel clammy on her skin.

“Didn’t need it. I’m fine, I’m doing fine.” Joel’s words zip along too quickly. “Everything’s great, why wouldn’t it be great? It is.”

Lizzie presses their foreheads together.

"You need sleep, luv." She whispers. "You have a shift. You know you aren't allowed to work on no sleep."

“I could call out.”

“You won’t.”

“I won’t need to, now.”

"Go to bed, Joel." Lizzie nudges his sagging body up.

“No.” Joel says, pulling her toward the bedroom.

"Oh alright, I guess I can cuddle you to sleep. Let me just pick up your coffee cup first." On the way, Lizzie collects a cup from where it's sat on a shelf.

“What coffee cup, I don’t know any coffee cup.” Joel shakes his head.

"This one." Lizzie holds up the blue one she just collected. "...and also this one." She picks up a second, pink one. "This one." One with a Hotguy logo, that had wandered over from Scar's kitchen. "And...." Letting her gaze sweep the living room, she counts four more cups in her field of view that weren't there when she left for Cub's kitty party. "Joel. Did you drink seven cups of coffee in one night?"

“No, of course not.” Joel refuses to look at any of the damning vessels. “Seven is just when I had to start re-using mugs.”

"Just how many did you have, Joel Smallish Lady-Beans?" She turns to him. Crossing her arms is rather difficult, with both hands full of mugs, but propping them against her hips does at least make a somewhat intimidating pose.

"Uh. Like, three?" Joel sheepishly ventures, shrinking back slightly.

"Sure. I can see your shakes and twitches from here. Try again." Lizzie taps her foot. She is not above calling backup on her idiot of a husband.

"Hey! It totally was three-" Joel mutters one additional unclear word behind his hand.

"Three what? Can't have been three cups. And it better not have been three pots, mister."

"You know what I think I do need to get to bed actually been great seeing you love and kisses and all my best bye!" An outpouring of words as Joel makes a break for the bedroom.

"You get back here right now, buster!" Voice sharp as a whip, Lizzie sets the mugs down to have her hands free again.

"Can't hear you, sorry-" Joel scrambles over furniture and around corners!

Thunk.

Just to slam himself full-tilt into their closed bedroom door.

"You are not going to bed without drinking water and eating beans on toast." Fetching her husband, Lizzie marches him into the kitchen, sitting him down at the table with a large glass of water. "Drink."

Joel slumps in his chair, moaning miserably and rubbing his shoulder. "Yes, ma'am." Defeated, Joel cradles the glass in his hands, sipping slowly at it. He ignores the way it jitters in his grip.

Lizzie makes no special effort to be quiet as she heats his beans and pops his toast in the toaster. Occasionally, she sees Joel wince at a particularly loud clatter. Frankly, she'd be more shocked if he didn't have a caffeine headache. At least he didn't finish that third pot, half still there, growing cold. Smiling, Lizzie helps herself to a glass. A scoop of ice cream, a bit of milk, perfect. She sets her creation on the table opposite Joel. Well out of his reach. Only the properly beaned toast plate is put in front of Joel where he can grab it.

Joel barely glances at the plate offered to him before falling on the food wolfishly. Which is all the confirmation she needs that he'd forgotten his meal. "As bad as Scar." She snickers, tucking into her own treat.

"Hey!"

Instead of gracing her beloved idiot husband with an answer, Lizzie goes to dig a tupper out of her purse. Not a big one, just big enough for a few bits and pieces from the feast spread Cub had laid out for them.

Joel eyes the container with suspicious squints, but very loudly does not bring it up, scraping the last bit of bean up off his plate.

Right up until Lizzie pulls two raspberry danishes from the box.

"You can't just bribe me, you know."

"Can't I?" Lizzie waves a danish near him.

"Ngh, I guess you can, oh beloved wife of mine. What do you want?" Joel slumps in his seat.

"Can't I just be looking out for my dearest darling husband's wellbeing?" Lizzie sing-songs.

"No." Joel crosses his arms.

"Oh, fine, if you're going to be like that. Stop fretting every time I hang out with Cub. Seriously." Lizzie shakes her head. "It's become a problem."

"I'm dealing with it. I'm fine! Everything is fine. I'm not going to tell you who you can hang out with-" Joel runs a hand back through his hair. "Even if it is just a huge gathering of villains. And someone is gonna lose it if he finds out. I'm dealing!"

"There were, at most, three villains there. As well as your boss and coworker. And Cub is a perfectly respectable gentleman." Lizzie nods. "Though. I think your someone just might be fraternizing as well." She gives Joel a wink.

"No! Absolutely not!" Joel slaps his hands over his ears. "Lalala! Not another word, I refuse to hear anything else I'm gonna have to pretend not to know!"

"You chose the life." Lizzie just shrugs.

"That's separate-" Joel drops his hands back down to the table. "You know I want to be able to save up for- To save up in case of. Life stuff. I didn't ask for all these complications to go with it."

"Still your own fault." Lizzie hums. "Now come on, time for bed. You can have your danish for breakfast. Without coffee."

"You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Lady-Beans. But I accept your terms." Joel pushes himself up from the table, holding his hand out to Lizzie. "If you would?"

"Gladly." Danish sealed away again and both their food and drinks finished, Lizzie takes her husband’s hand and allows him to lead her to bed.

[ariespsyche]

oil and water