Chapter Text
I draw a design for Timmy's wings!
Jimmy had a moment of hope seeing Timmy so weak and on the verge of unconsciousness (even though the image didn't make him feel good at all either), that he could do it quickly and easily.
That hope died completely before it could take root.
The moment Jimmy placed his hands experimentally on Timmy's wing, Timmy flinched as if he had been touched by a live wire with a very high-pitched scream for his age. At the same time, Jimmy pulled his hands away raising them to his chest, his eyes wide as saucers in fear.
"Sorry!" he blurted out automatically. With his arms resting on his chest, he bent down as far as he could without touching Timmy. "Are you okay, does it hurt?"
As the only response he got a strange noise, a guttural moan that sounded neither positive nor negative. Just like something very suggestive that would haunt Jimmy in his most erotic dreams.
Jimmy, quickly coming out of his initial shock, took a moment to breathe, push away the images his brain was creating without his consent and cleared his suddenly dry throat.
"Okay, you need me to clean your wings, so we'll do this: if it hurts or it's too much, just tapping your hand anywhere. Got it, Timmy?"
When Timmy nodded with his head buried in the pillow, Jimmy prepared himself for what was next. He rearranged his feet to Timmy's sides for more stability in case the fairy boy became too agitated and picked up the damp cloth he had dropped earlier.
"I'm going to start."
Very carefully, he put his hand on the outer side of the left wing, almost at the purplish top, and brushed the membrane with his fingers. Timmy flinched again, but Jimmy went ahead this time. With the cloth in one hand, he rubbed the inner side to remove the smaller, loose pieces of dead skin.
In an attempt to ignore Timmy's increasingly obscene noises, the boy genius began to analyze the wing features.
The first thing he noticed was that they were cold, though not freezing, but more like several degrees below the average body temperature of humans (and fairy hybrids, he supposed); at the same time, he noticed that they warmed rapidly with the touch of his fingers.
It was the first time he had been able to look at the appendages up close and attentively, so it was normal for Jimmy to get a little lost in his head. The shape was similar to the scaled wings found on butterflies and moths, but the appearance and internal structure (as well as flexibility, if he took into account the maneuvers he'd seen Timmy do on missions) were membranous wings. He could even see thin, whitish veins starting a few inches above the base to the tips of the forewing and a much smaller amount extending into the hindwing. If they were similar to nerves in the body, it might explain the sensitivity. He would like to try asking Cosmo and Wanda if they would let him see theirs to compare with the average fairy's, maybe even Poof's, since he didn't know if age was a changing factor.
He also confirmed that the wings become thicker and stiffer at the base and, as they reached the junction with the back (would they be connected to the spine or would they be subcutaneous appendages?), they moved in that spasm/tic that Jimmy had seen earlier, when Timmy stretched. There was also a long distinguished groan that almost completely overshadowed the humming, but Jimmy ignored it for the sake of his mental sanity.
Once only the larger patches were left, Jimmy set the cloth down in the bowl to his right and, taking his time, rinsed it out to give Timmy a little break (poor guy was shaking with his neck and ears blushed a deep red, but Jimmy trusted him to tell him if it was too much).
He left the cloth in the water and the next step was to use his fingers with tweezers to catch the dead skin edges and slowly peel off the patches.
Jimmy curiously compared it to the satisfaction of pulling off a new sticker.
Apparently this was less stimulating than direct rubbing, if one had to tell by the fainter sounds (no longer so much as moans, but high-pitched sighs) from Timmy and the almost total lack of shudders and tremors.
In addition, Jimmy noticed that, unlike the smooth, slightly velvety texture of Timmy's wings (another characteristic of butterfly/moths wings), the molted skin crusts were rougher. Although they felt springy as I removed them, after a short time they became brittle, like the skin of garlic cloves.
In a way, it was fun to Jimmy that holding dead skin was completely normal, but biting the skin of a peach straight through was a sensory nightmare.
When he pulled the last patch off and left it in a small pile beside him (Jimmy wasn't going to miss the opportunity for analysis and he was pretty sure Timmy wouldn't mind), he took the cloth once more and squeezed out the excess water to clean the wing again. He had to bite his tongue to keep from thinking about Timmy's ass jumping under his crotch as he squirmed or every obscene moan that filled the silence of his lab.
Dropping the cloth back into the water when he was done, Jimmy exhaled a weary sigh, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his forearm.
That was one of two.
"How are you feeling, Timmy?" he asks.
He reached out to scratch his fingertips through his partner's auburn hair, combing through the tangled, sweat-damp locks in an attempt to convey comfort.
Timmy sinks into the gentle caresses like a starving man (he is, a trait about him that Jimmy found absolutely adorable and a little sad at times) and emotes an incomprehensible mumble into the pillow. Lovingly, Jimmy rolls his eyes and smiles.
"Okay, one tap for 'yes' and two tap for 'no', are you okay?".
Honestly, the question was a little silly, because Timmy seemed anything but okay at that moment, but he trusted that he would understand what Jimmy meant.
For a moment he feared that Timmy was so weak that he couldn't answer him, but before the twinge of anxiety took root, Timmy released his hand from his firm grip on the pillow and tapped his index finger.
Jimmy let out the air he didn't know he was holding.
"Do you feel like it's too much?"
This time, Timmy hesitated for longer, long enough that Jimmy was about to offer pause, but Timmy suddenly moved, looked over his shoulder at Jimmy, turning just enough to reveal his flushed face, his blue eyes glassy and cloudy with tears peeking around the corner.
"Just get it over, Jimmy," he pleaded in his hoarse, worn voice.
Jimmy swallowed spittle.
It was his fault. It was entirely his fault that his boyfriend, feverish and overwhelmed by a strange and uncomfortable bodily process, looked absolutely sexy. Jimmy was going to reflect later on his inappropriate thoughts.
But now he had to take a breath, bite his tongue until he felt a slight metallic taste to take his mind off his raging erection, and deal with Timmy.
It took him over an hour to clean both wings completely and another five embarrassing minutes to cum in the bathroom. When he washed his hands and returned, he left the samples at his biology station and brought a small portable fan which he placed about three feet away from an exhausted Timmy and turned it on the lowest speed.
Feeling the movement in his hair, Timmy finally lifted his face to feel the cool air, and a small smile broke out on his face. His wings, brighter than ever, moved slightly with the current.
Smiling, Jimmy let him rest at last and returned to his desk to get some work done before the rest of the team returned.
...
When the portal reactivates, Timmy is conscious enough to open his eyes and recognize his interdimensional friends.
Whatever joke or anecdote they were sharing stops as soon as they see him, and it's Danny (always the mom of the group, even if he won't admit it) who approaches first.
"How are you buddy?" he asks, his ghostly transformation fading as he walks hurriedly towards him.
"Jimmy said you were sick." SpongeBob is hot on his heels, making a funny noise with his body as he walks.
Timmy smiles at them, trying not to make a big deal out of the squishy, warm feeling rising in his chest at his friends' genuine concern.
"All good now, just a totally normal fairy process." Funny, Timmy didn't remember much of what happened while Jimmy was cleaning his wings, so he wasn't sure why his voice sounded like he'd swallowed a shake of tacks.
Danny probably noticed it too, but, other than raising an eyebrow with a curious look, he didn't say anything.
"I shed my wings, which means I'm an adult fairy now," Timmy said teasingly.
"Shed your wings?" Dib, who was helping Manny move something... oddly organic-looking (he didn't have the energy to ask), to Jimmy's biology station, raised his voice with interest.
Timmy shakes a little, trying to get more comfortable. "Yeah, you know, like shedding skin, but instead of leaving a shell of myself behind, my wings got all skinned up like when Manny forgot to put on sunscreen and stayed up playing volleyball in the sand all afternoon."
As he spoke, Jimmy, who had been typing on his computer until the portal was activated, quietly got up, walked over to the couch where Bob and Danny were, picked up one of the cushions, and knelt down next to Timmy to tap him on the pelvis.
"Hm? Oh!" says Timmy, quickly understanding the signal to lift his hips and have Jimmy settle the cushion on his belly to relieve the back pain that was manifesting itself from lying on his stomach for so long. "Thanks, babe, you're the best."
"You're welcome, Sundrop," Jimmy replies, his soft voice and warm smile making his gut flip.
"Ya empezaron con sus joterias..." Manny can be heard muttering.
"Unbelievable! I didn't know fairies shed their wings." Dib, eyes shining, approaches Timmy at an unnerving speed. "How was it, how long did it last, is it like the shedding of amphibians or snakes and lizards, how often does it happen, were you-?"
"Dib." The torrent of questions comes to a screeching halt at Timmy's call, but the smile quickly returns to his face as he speaks again. "It was quite a process and I'm still tired, I'll tell you about it later, okay?"
Dib seems to understand the tone and his face turns sheepish as he sketches a small apologetic smile. "Sure, sorry."
"Where are Zim and Jenny?" asks Jimmy, who has taken a seat on the floor next to Timmy, cross-legged. His hand gently combs Timmy's hair.
Timmy closes his eyes, letting his muscles relax and his chest emit that weird humming purr.
"Zim had to go home when Gir called yelling about squirrels running on the roof." Dib replies, his voice moving somewhere nearby, but no longer within his personal space, thankfully.
"Shouldn't you go too?"
"Nah, he'll call me if he needs me. Anyway he says I'm too permissive with Gir to be of any help."
"And Jenny said something about surprise discounts on clothes before jumping through the portal in a hurry."
"Oh!" adds SpongeBob. "She also said before she left that she'll send you the report tonight."
"Okay, I'll check it out in the morning then."
Spontaneously, as the voices of his friends fill the lab with the day's anecdotes, Timmy wonders what his boyfriend did with his dry, dead skin.
"Jimmy, what are these clear thin pieces on your table?"
Oh, forget it.