#seattlesaltwroiting

[3000-200-grains-of-salt]

i talk too much

Scar/Grian, Grian & Impulse & Scar & Skizz - Kissing, Phasmophobia, Fluff - 1,858 words This hunt seems to be lasting forever, and Scar just won't shut up. read on ao3! or read under the cut:

"Hunt! It's- It's hunting!" Skizz's voice crackled through the radio at Scar's hip. In a distant room of the house, he heard a door slam shut, hopefully with his friends safe inside.

Scar didn't have time to worry about that, though, because he could hear the ghost getting closer. His heart pounded as he fumbled with the closet door handle and practically fell inside. Scar slammed the door shut, and he was safe.

"That was close," he whispered to himself, sliding down the wall until he was laying down with his head resting against it. He turned off his flashlight and prepared for the long wait.

Scar's moment of peace was short lived, however, because his door was flung open and then slammed shut by a panicked-looking Grian a few seconds later.

"Grian! What-"

"Shhhh!" he hissed, slapping his hand over Scar's mouth. After giving Scar a good glare, Grian leaned away, quickly checking through the keyhole if the ghost was still there.

He was sitting practically on top of him, one hand resting on the wall to support his weight, the other currently saving both their skins by making Scar be quiet. Grian's eyes darted around, as if he could see the ghost circling them; edges of his face outlined in the purple light of the UV stick he was clutching.

"Mfmmfphmfmfhphm."

"Yeah, yeah. I- Eaugh!" Scar giggled as Grian jerked his hand away from Scar's mouth and shook it out.

"Did you just lick my hand?" Scar kept on laughing.

"You absolute-" The breath left his lungs as the ghost's frosty voice shook the closet again.

This time, as Grian's frame curled in protectively, Scar didn't dare open his mouth- if he did, the most likely scenario would be that the ghost would find him and Grian, and both of them would die.

Instead, Scar let his eyes adjust to the darkness in their meager hiding spot. The dim light was just bright enough to see Grian's chest rise and fall, diffuse through his hair, and trace the edges of his expression. He was suddenly struck by how close they were together, how he could feel Grian's breath fan against his forehead, his left arm nearly touching Scar's ear, his legs straddling his lap. He could hear the ghost moving farther away from the closet, tension loosening with every fading footstep. Scar took in Grian's distracted face- the thin hairs dancing over his forehead, the unnatural purple glow, his eyes darting around, ever piercing and focused.

It was then that Scar became acutely aware of Grian staring at him.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he said with a grin.

"Oh! Uh- I- Nothing! Nothing, just, uhh, the... dark closet we are in, and- and- nothing else, mhm, yep."

"Nothin' else, hm?" Scar's brain went blank as Grian glanced at his lips with a tilt of his head.

"N- Nope, nope, nothing, just- just- um-"

Grian cut him off with a gentle laugh.

"Aww," he teased, smiling down at him in the purple glow. "You're cute when you get all flustered like that."

"I-" Scar turned two shades redder. His brain tried to compute the words that had just come out of Grian's mouth, failed, and promptly bluescreened.

"I- uh- I mean, do you- you think I'm- I- I mean, wow, this hunt's taking a long time, do- um-" Right on cue, the ghost came back up to their door, and Scar kept stuttering on, oblivious. "It's really- I, well- is-"

"Oh, Scar." Grian rolled his eyes, grabbed Scar by the shirt, and shut him up.

Oh.

Grian was kissing him.

Grian was kissing him.

A quick recap if you weren't paying attention: Scar was sitting in a cramped closet, on a ghost hunting job, hiding from a vengeful spirit trying to murder him, and Grian was sitting on his lap and kissing him.

Scar's heart fluttered against his chest as Grian's kiss pinned his head to the wall. His eyes flew open wide in an intoxicating mixture of shock, adrenaline, and straight oxytocin. Grian deepened the kiss even more, brow furrowing over shut eyes in concentration as he kissed Scar's absolute teeth in.

The closet door shook. Grian kissed him harder.

He didnt notice the ghost's rattling breath subside until Grian pulled away with a soft exhale. He stayed there for a moment, hands burning supernovas into Scar's skin from where they rested on his collarbone.

"Wow," he choked out, breath coming in quiet gasps. Grian snorted and tilted Scar's chin up with one hand.

"Don't make me shut you up again." Scar turned even more red.

"I- I mean, you- you know, you- you might have to-" he said, a bit too loud.

Instantly, the ghost's rattling breath was in his ears again, and Grian gasped.

"Scar!"

"You know, I'm just saying y-" He was cut off as Grian quickly kissed him again.

In the dark, his lips landed just off center, but Scar quickly course corrected. He held Grian's face with both hands, palms cupping his jaw, fingers tangled in his hair.

Scar was pretty sure the ghost was long gone at this point. Scratch that, he was definitely sure the ghost was long gone at this point. If he was being honest, all thought of ghosts and hunts and EMF readers had vanished the instant Grian's lips met his.

Everything faded into the background as Scar's brain zeroed in on Grian. Grian, Grian, Grian. Grian whose face he was holding, Grian who left euphoria everywhere his hands touched his collarbone, Grian with his tongue in Scar's mouth, Grian tugging him closer, Grian straddling his lap, Grian with the dark eyes, Grian with the musical laugh, the magical smile, Grian the love of his life; Grian who was kissing him breathless in a closet right at this very moment. He was positive he could get drunk from the taste of Grian, the way his tongue slotted into his mouth, the rhythm of each of their lips against the other's, the little gasps he let escape.

When Grian finally pulled back for air, Scar chased after him. He connected their mouths once more- though not before earning a tiny laugh from Grian. This kiss is gentler, lighter- He smiled into it. Grian grabbed his face to angle it better, setting Scar alight where warm fingers touched his jaw, his neck, his ear.

He felt Grian press a lingering kiss to each corner of his mouth, leaving stars glowing beneath his skin. Scar leaned in for a final chaste kiss, his lips missing Grian's the moment he pulled away.

In the dim, fuzzy light, he could make out (ha) the shape of his thumbs tracing shapes on the pink-dusted skin just under Grian's eye. The pair stayed that way for a moment, processing; holding their breaths.

"Is- Is the ghost still there?" he breathed after a while.

"I don't know, Scar, but it will be if you don't keep quiet." The deadpan expression on Grian's flushed face made Scar chuckle.

"Ohh, well, I mean, I don't know, it probably... is... so.... um..." Scar's voice died out as Grian trailed his hands over his jaw, swagger instantly replaced with a deep red blush. His face pulled closer to Scar's, breath hot against his cheeks.

"Do you just want me to kiss you again?" he murmured. A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.

Scar swallowed and put on the best salesman voice he could manage while being pinned down in a closet.

"I don't know... do you want the ghost to find us?" Grian laughed, fully out loud this time, thumb tracing a circle under Scar's cheekbone.

"Scar, are we really doing this?" he deadpanned.

"I- I can be pretty loud, so... y'know... I..." Grian's lips brushed against Scar's. "I can't help it when you kiss me like that."

"Like what?" Grian asked innocently.

Instead of answering, Scar just closed the short distance between them. Grian's kiss was just as addicting as before, and Scar melted into it, memorizing his taste in his mouth. He pulled Grian in even closer, fingers catching against his hair and pulling quiet whines from his mouth. Grian broke the kiss, just for a second, only to swoop right back in and kiss him again, slow and deep. Scar pulled him closer.

Grian linked his hands behind Scar's neck, the slide of calluses on his skin like phosphorus against a match. When Scar broke away for air, Grian found his jawline instead, trailing slow kisses down his arteries and across his collarbone. The heady scrape of teeth on skin made Scar's head spin even faster, faster, faster; world blurring until it was just Grian and him against a backdrop of velvet.

"Grian?" he whispered. Grian hummed into his neck between kisses.

"What are we doing?"

Grian went still. He thought for a moment, before leaning back in. He pressed a tender kiss to the spot just under Scar's ear, behind his jaw, mouth quirking upwards as Scar squirmed under the touch. He shifted back, just a little, so Scar could see him shrug as he replied.

"...Hiding?"

"From the ghost??"

"Yeah?"

Scar gave him a look. "I think the ghost is gone now, G."

"Fine, fine, you caught me." Grian lifted his hands in defeat. His voice became muffled as he folded his arms across Scar's chest and rested his chin there. "You can't blame me for wanting another kiss or two."

Scar hummed in response, lapsing into a comfortable silence. He ran his fingers through Grian's hair, absentmindedly wondering where the ghost was.

"Hunt's over, guys!" Impulse's voice through the radio made them jump. Speak of the devil.

"Well!" Grian stood. Scar stood with him before he could miss his warmth pressed against his chest. "I guess that's our cue to leave."

"Yeah."

Neither of them moved.

Grian draped his hands on Scar's shoulders. "You know... " he started, pulling Scar in closer. "I could be convinced to-"

Scar was kissing him before he could finish his sentence.

The closet door creaked.

"Oh!" Grian turned beet red and froze in the sudden light.

Scar pulled away with a start. "Hi Impulse!"

---

After finally being dragged out of their closet, doing some ghost hunting work or whatever, and ignoring a lot of knowing looks and snickers from Impulse and Skizz, they had finally decided what kind of ghost they were dealing with.

Safe inside the van, the other half of their crew busied themselves with the computer while Grian and Scar stood in a corner.

"I missed being taller than you," Scar sighed.

Grian laughed up at him. "And I missed hearing your voice."

"I thought you were trying to shut me up," Scar teased.

Grian wrapped one arm around his waist.

"You know I love listening to you talk." He held Scar's face with his one free hand. "Just... maybe not when talking could literally get us killed."

Scar just laughed. Grian tilted his chin down and smiled back at him.

"Just don't scare me like that again," he said, drawing closer and closer.

"No promises."

And Scar met his lips once more.

[3000-200-grains-of-salt]

do you have any anger pent up inside you? (poem by me)

im too tired.  void, im too tired for anger.  i realized all my anger was sadness  and now thats all i can feel.  i dont want to be swallowed but  theres no oxygen  for fire to burn  in the gut of this whale. 

i'm counting the ribs.  i can't breathe.  i can't count the ribs,  its too dark  and besides they're covered with flesh.  'i can't stay mad at you,'  i relent to the tongue.  it is silent. 

the whale around me  can't breathe.  did i ever learn how to breathe?  or did i just learn to  flex my diaphragm til i choked  on the air so nobody would know  i wasn't born with lungs? 

i count the whale's alveoli.  i think it has pneumonia.  it is sick.  am i sick?  i can't tell.  but the whale is sick  and i breathe what it breathes  so i guess i'll get by  on smoke for now.  i didnt know  they allowed fire in the ocean but  its eating me alive. 

i cant burn because im drowning.  i cant breathe so i just  count the bubbles  and make a list of the symptoms. 

thats all i ever learned to do.

[3000-200-grains-of-salt]

wherefore art thou ...a poem by me

oh lord, i worry i'm too good at weaving guts together until they're love

and turning my pain into something beautiful,

beautiful only to others and not to me

[3000-200-grains-of-salt]

heres a bit i cut from my writing. i knew it wouldnt fit as soon as i started typing, but its good to get this stuff out.

"Some sick, infestuous feeling twisted deep in his gut wanted so badly to hurt him. Something in his bones stirred, and it was red, it was malignant, and it wanted nothing but vengeance. It wanted to rip and tear and scream himself hoarse in the face of the thing that hurt him."

something about anger, how it swallows you up... it's never the right thing, by the way.. always hiding something else. when you feel rage deep in your bones it's because it's hollowed out the marrow to make its home there, and sooner or later you'll be bled dry. i've learned to make peace over the years

[3000-200-grains-of-salt]

dizzying heights

a fic about guilt, and canaries. the two seem to go together often

{ 2,717 words | Gen | T for Teen cause Martyn swears twice }

{ Read it here, or on Ao3! }

Jimmy had walked out of his and Martyn's base some time ago. The clay dog eyes had watched him through the brightening lavender sky as he carefully shut the door behind him on his way towards the dimming stars. Martyn hadn’t seen him since.

...Eh, best to leave ‘im be. He’s probably just doing his task.

With that thought, Martyn pushed Jimmy out of his mind. Now, about that Enchanter of Cleo’s…

—

Down a half-heart or two and sporting some newly-shimmering boots, Martyn clomped onto the planks inside their base and dropped some stuff in the chests. Seeds, eggs, spare string, a few stray blocks of dirt... the kind of stuff that just clogs up your inventory. 

There we go. Now, with that taken care of, he and Jimmy needed… to… wait a second.

Jimmy had wordlessly left Martyn at their base a long while ago, and Martyn, in all his busywork, still hadn’t seen even a glimpse of him.

Where is he?

—

At the beginning of the day, Jimmy had silently stepped outside their base, into the pale, early morning light. And now, the sun was melting over the horizon, and Jimmy had not spoken to or seen Martyn since it had come up.

I’ve gotta find him.

Martyn looked in every room of their tiny base, looked beneath the floor, stared through his spyglass until his eyes hurt from strain... but of course, Jimmy was right under his nose. Martyn had mined through their wall in annoyance, and there he was. Curled up by the edge off their little terracotta cliff, gazing into the sunset.

“Jimmy! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all day, what were you…” Martyn trailed off when he saw the tear tracts on Jimmy’s cheeks.

“…Jimmy?” His eyes slid from the distant horizon to fall on Martyn. “What happened?” Jimmy dug his face furthur into his arms. His whole frame shook with his shoulders as Jimmy stifled sobs into his knees.

“Oh, Jimmy, I—“ Martyn went to lay his hand on his back, but Jimmy flinched away. His head snapped up enough for Martyn to see pupils contracted in fear and… guilt.

“I— just— just don’t, okay?” he whispered, fingers clawing at where his sweater fell around his elbows. “Just leave me be.”

“Well... I just found my ally crying his eyes out on a balcony, so I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Martyn stated, sitting down next to Jim and ignoring the slight embarrased flush on said ally’s face.

“You are the absolute— Just, please, leave me alone.” Jimmy drew his wings up to shield his face, words tinged with thinly-veiled pain.

“I will, you just need to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong!” he snapped, wings thrown backwards. The sight of Martyn’s startled face made him scramble to course-correct.

“I— I mean— I didn’t mean that, I— Nothing’s wrong, I just— I need to be alone.” He raised his wing again, overlapping feathers sliding over each other to form a wall between him and Martyn.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I already told you, nothing’s wrong, you— you just need to go, okay?”

“I just wanted to see if you were alright!” Martyn pushed Jimmy's wings aside.

“Well— I— You shouldn’t have!” he stammered, shrinking back more.

“Shouldn’t have? I shouldn’t try to talk to my ally after not seeing him for a whole day?”

“Yeah! I don’t want to— I don’t want you to— you’re gonna get hurt, just— You shouldn’t be talking with me right now!”

“Yeah? Why not?”

Jimmy's stare landed in Martyn’s eyes, drowning in fire, rimmed with scars, his red eyes, and his defenses melted away.

“Because…” Jimmy took a deep, trembling breath as more tears fell. “Because I can’t hurt you again.”

Martyn’s face fell into shock and concern.

“…What?” Jimmy sighed, and shakily repeated himself.

“I can’t hurt you again.”

“Jimmy, you’ve… never hurt me. Not once. What are you talking about?”

He only got silence for an answer at first, as Jim’s glazed eyes stared into the sunset. Martyn opened his mouth to ask again when, finally, he spoke. 

“…I have worse luck than you think, Martyn,” he began.

“Every, every one of these damn games, I’ve been a warning. A— A premonition of death. When I go, it’s— it’s a sign, a sign that people are gonna start dying. I never wanted, I— I don’t mean it, I can’t help it, I—“ Jimmy was fully crying again, lower lip wobbling as he poured his heart out. 

“First out of the game, first to die. My last breath is just a warning, to get away, get away while you’re still here.” Jimmy’s hands came up to clamp against his hair; and the puzzle in Martyn’s brain started clicked together in a way he really, really didn’t like.

“W— When you fell, that day, it—“ he took a shuddering breath, “—it was my fault, Martyn. It was me, it was my curse! All I am is an anchor for everyone who’s ever met me, I just bring them down.

“Everyone I’m allied with will always die.

”I am an omen of death, Martyn,"he cried bitterly.

"I'm only destined to fall, and, Void, I— I can't bear to drag you down with me." Steeling resignation cut through the pain in Jimmy's voice.

"I'm gonna fall, but… I can't see you fall too."

For a moment, Martyn could only sit there, shocked, as Jimmy sobbed to himself.

“Y— You probably hate me now,“ he sniffed; then said, with the painstaking script of someone who’d been through this before, “I— I understand if you— if you don’t want to be fr— if you don't want to be allies anymore.

“I wouldn’t want to be friends with me either,” he breathed.

Martyn let the silence last one moment longer, emotion swirling in his head. His eyes flicked to the secret keeper—tall and proud, stonily staring down at him.

Cursed canary, first out of the game. The words echoed in his mind. Destined to fall. Destined to die. Sentenced to the chopping block, without so much as a trial.

“No.”

“…What?”

“No, I don’t want to stop being your ally.” 

Martyn said it plain and clear, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He said it like he meant it, like it was absurd for Jim to think otherwise, like that ‘otherwise’ never once crossed his mind.

Jimmy looked up at him, trying to push down the hope in his eyes.

“But—“

“No buts, Jimmy.” His eyes stole another glance at the imposing statue, watching them endlessly; at that wretched symbol carved on its blank face. He turned his gaze back to Jimmy, and gave a small, sad smile. "We’re in this together, through and through.”

Jimmy’s eyes darted around his face, looking for the lie written in the creases, looking for the cruel laugh on his lips and the contempt twisted in his brow. 

Of course, he couldn’t find it. (Martyn swore to the Universe that he never would.) He saw this fact dawn on Jimmy—he’s telling the truth, he wants to be allies, he wants to be your friend—and watched as silver tears of relief gathered in his eyes. Jimmy’s face twisted up into a smile that didn’t last for long as all his emotions came spilling out his eyes. 

Martyn just gently guided his friend’s head to fall forwards onto his shoulder. He stayed there while Martyn wrapped him up in a hug. 

"I'm your ally. Nothing's ever gonna change that."

Jimmy sank into Martyn’s arms, wings tentatively folding around his torso. Now, he couldn’t even try to stop sobs from bubbling up from where they’d been bottled inside his chest.

He could do nothing but cry. 

He cried for his lives, for his loves; he cried for worlds and stories left behind. He cried for bitter words turned to knives and costly mistakes with their claws sunk deep in his memories. For every drop of blood spilt, for every shattered hope and dream; for every precious moment torn from his grasp and every smile ripped off his face, he cried.

He cried for every what if, cried for every should have, cried for every ‘goodbye’ and ‘i love you’ he didn’t get to say, every apology left buried beneath headstones. He cried for the pain that found its home infested in his chest, for for the laughter and grief and heartbreak and love never shared, and scraped-out homes too short-lived and all those trapped feelings fluttering up against his ribcage. He cried for all the time that ran out, for every broken heart tied to his, for careless glass he never picked out of wounds, and for lives and loves left dead like flowers in their vases of water.

He cried for every burden that went unlifted, and he cried for every hand that couldn’t be warmed when his were cold and pale beneath the ground. He cried for his friends, he cried for his allies; he cried for every soul he couldn’t save, every star-crossed being with the misfortune of loving him, and every life he didn’t get the chance to mourn.

He cried for the canary, trapped in the coal mine’s clutches; for every breath filled with fumes.

And, if deep within, he told himself the truth, Jimmy cried a little bit for himself.

Jimmy cried, and Martyn let him. He poured out his very soul, dredged up the ugly pain in his heart, let his screams breathe fresh air. Void knows it all had been buried for too long. 

A stream of soothing words flowed steadily from Marytyn's lips, grounding Jimmy to the here and now: It's okay. You're gonna be okay, Jimmy. You're safe, you're here, I'm here with you, we're both alive, and everything, everything's gonna be alright.

(He could barely make out the meanings through his own gasping sobs, but Void, they were the only seams left to keep him from falling apart.)

Jimmy just kept on crying, cried until his eyes were puffy, until his throat was hoars; cried until he couldn't anymore. 

His tears began to slow, and eventually, Martyn was left to rub circles into Jimmy’s back in the silence, holding him together like the shards of broken porcelain.

“I’m tired, Martyn.” 

The sound was small. It barely reached his ears; but their weight was evident.

“I’m just so, so tired,” he rasped, bone-deep weariness so obviously heavy on his tongue.

“And… And I try. I try so hard to keep fighting—“ Jimmy’s voice broke as he buried his head in Martyn's shoulder and tried to hold his shoulders still.

“Truth is, I’m a mess, Martyn,” he started again. “I’m a mess, of— of curses and feelings and stupidness… all you’re gonna get is a bitter end.” 

Hot tears started to fall again into Martyn’s shirt, but Jimmy’s voice remained low and somber as it shook. “You’re— you’re just gonna go splat on the ground one day and I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try. I can’t be anything but the canary in a coal mine, and— and I can’t give you anything except a curse and a shallow grave.”

He sighed. “I am a walking promise of death. And… I can’t in good conscience let you team with me if you don’t know that.”

He seemed to hold his breath for one more second as Martyn spoke.

"Jimmy... I've already made up my mind. I'm not leaving you. Nothing, absolutely nothing will make that any different. Not secrets, not curses, nothing."

Maryn pretended he didn't hear Jimmy's hitching breaths as his tears turned relieved again. He just carded through his hair and tried to hold him together in his arms.

"You just hang in there, Jimmy, and I'll be right there at your side. I'll stay here, through fire and flood, I'll be your right-hand man, just...

"Please, don’t— don't ever stop fighting. Never let that fire inside of you burn out. Don't stop, don't quit, no matter what you do. I mean, I— I know you won't, Jim, I know you're so strong. And- Void, you're so, so strong, Jim, stronger than any of us, and- and you've been through so much shit that you didn't deserve."

Jim clung to him like a lifeline.

"Just know, that whatever happens—if the sky is falling, if the very world is crashing around us, if— if everything goes to shit, I'll be with you. I'll fight with you and die with you ’til the end. Please, Jimmy, just don't ever forget that."

Martyn held him like nothing else existed.

"Don't ever forget how much I love you."

Both of them were crying into each other now, sweet tears mixing with the bitter ones. They didn't seem to mind all that much.

The cold began to encroach on their golden little paradise- it seeped in through Jimmy's back, sunk its claws in where the sun didn't reach- but that was okay. Martyn was here, and his arms were warm and strong and steady. Warm enough to heal dead hands, steady enough to stop Jim from shattering, careful enough to pick up the pieces. 

Martyn was here. He was here and he wasn't leaving. Jimmy kept repeating that in his head like a mantra, over and over again. He's not leaving.

He's not leaving, and that's enough for Jim. 

His tears finally stopped.

He slowly pulled away from Martyn, not bothering to tuck his wings away and instead letting them stretch and brush the ground somewhere behind him. The silence stretched between them—comfortable now, enough to relax. Jimmy's hand stayed threaded through Martyn's. They ended up dangling their shoes off the shallow cliff; Jimmy’s head on Martyn’s shoulder; soaking up the warmth, basking in the peace.

He wondered, distantly, how he could've been crying; with the sun filtering through the atmosphere in that radiant way, smoldering and dancing like lava and glass, staining their own rusted mesa flats into shades of gold and violet. Light seemed to snag the cooling air just right, leaving streaks of watercolor in its wake. Trees in the distance whispered their steady, rustling white noise through Jimmy's eardrums: the Universe's sympathetic respite offered to block out the shadows—those creeping, quiet thoughts and dread rotting his mind away, burning him to nothing. It was quieter now, at least. Quiet enough to hear his thoughts, his breathing, his heartbeat.

The Universe had been kind to him lately, Jimmy noticed. Slower, softer; more hopeful. The worlds It created hadn't been so cruel; the earth's pull on him more like a comforting weight, cradling him in the dirt like cupped water. 

Jim thought It might have been making the clouds curl and ruffle, that It was tempting the windchimes to softly rattle and ring, and melting the sun until it pulsed a rich amber, just to chase away the fear, to grant him some futile kind of relief.

Still, it was quiet enough to breathe. To rest.

It was nice. 

“…Thank you, Martyn. For being here,” he murmured, a trace of waver still in his voice.

He smiled, and held Jimmy’s hand a little tighter. “That’s what big dogs do.

“Big Dogs forever. Woof, Woof—“ Jimmy laughed.

“Noohooo, don’t start that again!”

“Aw, come on! You just have to let that dog ou—“ Jimmy kicked him in the shin. 

“…Ow?!”

“Oh, come off it! I didn’t even kick you that hard!”

"Yeah, you did, ya big liar!" Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"Martyn, you're acting like a five-year-old." Jimmy snorted, letting a small ‘ouch!’ escape when Martyn softly kicked him back.

“That was your own fault.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

Jimmy took a minute to let his eyes wander- take in the view of their little golden paradise, their home.

"I love you, you idiot," Jim said, meaning every word.

Martyn let his head sag onto Jimmy's, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

(They both were here, and they were alive, weren't they? And Martyn's hand was like a little sun in Jimmy's palm and when the avian trilled softly it was the sweetest sound Martyn had ever heard.)

(What more could they wish for?)

"Love you too, songbird."