Chapter Text
Swatch was a bird of duty, of etiquette, of itineraries. They followed strict paths, followed what they knew, what was expected of them. Checked off the lists and lists of duties to fulfill, and any possible unexpected factors were always factored into account. They always knew what to say, had memorized possible paths of conversations and charmed all those around them with their social know-how.
For example, Poppups always had a playful side, and valued attention. Swatch would give them a slight taste of attention, more than their other attendants at the bar, but take their attention away once they got too excited. They would start giving more attention to customers that paid for more drinks, and the Poppups, every time, would start buying more drinks in hopes they would get the attention from Swatch. And they did.
Ambyu-Lances were slightly less simple as they had a multitude of factors that would be a bit difficult to maintain for most, but of course Swatch always knows exactly how to deal with them. They knew all the times their regulars would come in, and would make a key effort to keep the times Virovirokuns and Ambyu-Lances arrived as separated as possible. Of course, in the event their schedules overlap, they seat them as far from each other as possible, since they mix about as well as red wine and vodka. When Ambyu-Lances enter, Swatch cleans the area more than usual, as they tend to fixate on cleanliness, so as everyone in the establishment is safe and healthy. Frankly, they cannot help but grimly agree with that sentiment. There is nothing more disgusting than stray germs crawling around spaces they have no business being. It is simply unrefined to let something get to such a nasty degree.
...But they digress.
They sigh under their breath. Ah, of course... Just their luck.
Swatch swiftly glides on over and hovers a wing behind the Virovirokun to seat him in a booth far from the Ambyu-Lance sitting at the bar, inspecting and wiping a finger on the counter, checking for dust. They don’t need to look in his direction to know he nodded to himself in approval. Virovirokun stumbles a bit, landing on the cushioned red seat unceremoniously. They blink up at Swatch, and they quickly nod at their new customer, aiming to finish their task as soon as possible.
Swatch fishes out a menu and plants it on the table, taking their order efficiently. They have been shorter on staff today, they think, as they skate back toward the bartending area.
“Our apologies,” They bow apologetically. “We are a bit shorthanded today due to the number of new customers piling in. We hope that you will understand and continue your patronage to our establishment despite such.” They finish elegantly, flashing their regulars a polite, but charming smile. One of the Plugboys from their right rolls their eyes fondly, scoffing.
“ Yeah, yeah. Save it, we know you’re doing your best. Plus, you’re real damn good at yer job. ‘S far more than the lot of us can say.” They grumble, swishing their bottle mindlessly; they aren’t even looking at Swatch, just glancing at the wall with a troubled expression on their face.
Swatch hums, not stopping what they're doing for a second. They probably wouldn’t appreciate them probing for an explanation, so they let their eyes drift to the Ambyu-Lance in front of them, a grumpy expression, slightly blushing in embarrassment. “Any good establishment has a clean, healthy space. I’d always support a place like that.” He nods sharply, and goes back to aggressively sipping his non-alcoholic drink.
The Poppup sitting to their left kicks her legs back and forth, seemingly having long forgotten her pink bubbly beverage. “Yeah Boss! You’ve always been good ta us! Least we can do is support tha business, right??” She gives Swatch a closed eye smile, grin sharp and toothy; she slaps a flipper on the counter as she laughs with enthusiasm...as if she had nothing in the world to worry about. Simply her own happiness.
...Swatch grips the glass cup they were cleaning tight, just barely managing to stop from furrowing their brows together in frustration.
What they would give for a freedom like that. But, no, they have duties to undertake. They cannot afford to lose what they worked so diligently for. All those days spent in overtime; all those afternoons left running around doing chores for the Queen... all those sleepless nights. They won’t be for nothing- can't be for nothing.
Because if it’s one thing Swatch knows how to do above all else,
It’s to make things work from nothing.
Thunder roared aggressively, pellets of water shot through the sky, piercing the space around it.
What looked to be a feathered family could have been seen huddling together for warmth beneath an opened hood of a dumpster, shivering while a few of them bit down tears.
There was a suffocating humid feeling in the air, the smell of soil was intoxicating and overwhelmed all their senses. The soft pitter patter on the hood had long left its impression, a nearly deafening barrage of pellets, like a bullet from a gun. It had not stopped. The constant hammering filled their feathered heads and echoed inside it.
It echoed and echoed and echoed and that was all they could hear for hours on end. The sound was loud. It was loud and uncomfortable and-
Dear Light, had Swatch despised it. The way the gush of water clung uncomfortably to their feathers, and promptly refused to leave. The way the unbearable drumming of rain had invaded their space and latched onto their brain, shouting. The way the mud crawled onto their once spotless shoes, replacing it with something they could no longer recognize.
Rain, they-
Hated rain. Loathed it and how it made them feel. How it made them out to be like the small, helpless baby bird they thought they left behind years ago-chirping and cawing and crying for help.
For attention. For safety. For a home.
But they were all quiet now. No more crying. No more screaming.
There is no room for tears. No use for sympathy. For sympathy does not buy you food. Does not buy you a job, or clean clothes. Does not buy you a place to live and call home; one with a bed and a kitchen and a living room to watch television on, or a doormat that says “Welcome. Please preen.” ...Sympathy does not buy you warmth or love, or a stable mind. It does not give back what other people take.
And so the young feathered avian took those pitiful looks and passed glances at them. Took them, crumpled them up into a ball and threw them away. Away to a place they couldn’t see them. Could not be watched or judged. Ripped those stares into shreds and spat at them because we don’t need you anyway. They had not needed their disappointment, for it was not food. Was not a new job or clean clothing. Was not home.
Swatch shivered severely, teeth chattering violently, feeling off in their own body. They turned their head toward their siblings; eyes trained on their sleeping figures. They watched the way their large bodies huddled together, shivering slightly at certain points.
They looked so peaceful, despite the circumstances...
...Had this meant they were doing a good job of keeping them safe...? They didn’t know. Maybe they really didn’t want to. For fear of failure...it’s...
...They left that thought unanswered, blinking it away.
They tore their sleepless eyes away from their tattered shoes, once again finding their gaze had landed on their deep indigo-hued siblings. They hadn’t smiled often, those days. But they found in that moment, a complex smile.
It was sad, and not. Happy, and not.
It was discontent, and not. Content, and not.
It was fear, frustration, spite, love, hate...hope. And not.
It was drowning, in a sense. It was a whirlpool of violent and peaceful emotions and thoughts that raced against each other in less than a second, and more than a minute.
It was complex, and simple.
It was all of this, and none of it, all at once. And Swatch had all the hours left in the night to let it fester. But they hadn’t. They shut these thoughts out-all of them, and repositioned their blazer that they had wrapped around their siblings.
Swatch had shifted, grasped them tighter.
And they hadn’t let go.
They couldn’t lose them here. They couldn’t.
They’ll fight for it. Fight for them. And they’ll do it-straight from the bottom.
Swatch blinks blearily, eyes struggling to focus on the area around them.
Ah.
They’re still...
Swatch shakes their head, removing their stylish multi-colored spectacles and motions to their chest pocket, retrieving their silk velvet handkerchief, and uses it to wipe the lens; placing it back on their head after they’ve effectively cleaned it. They sigh, pinching the bridge of their beak in silent frustration.
“Get ahold of yourself Swatch, this is no time for- for daydreaming. Nonsense like that doesn’t earn you a paycheck.” They whisper under their breath harshly.
Swatch smoothens their monochromatic suit with a huff, scanning the room for any sign of dust or crumbs. Finding none, they nod with a hum and their wings on their hips. They reach for the broom that they were using a few moments prior, and carry it to the storage room. Shutting the door behind them, they slide down to the floor. The bird lets out a stuttering sigh, running their feathers down their face, as they shut their eyes for a moment of peace before they even begin to think about work the next day.
Instead, their mind drifts to thoughts of a warm bed; of the soft golden light of their bedside lamp as they adjust their reading glasses, scanning yellow tinted pages, rigid and worn, in keen interest. They think of their siblings, and the way they all chirp and clap their wings in excitement of their arrival. They think of their own cooking, warm and inviting. Swatch’s breathing had long since calmed itself, prying their wings away from their face as they slowly let their eyes flutter open.
“Alright,” They huff. “Let’s go home.”
Swatch grabs hold of their umbrella, tight enough that one might’ve thought they were attempting to break the thing in two, and they take a moment to exercise control in their feathered hand, before glaring daggers at the glass door leading to an unpleasant walk home. They inhale and exhale, loosening their iron grip on the object, they step out and open the umbrella.
The entire walk home, they focus on what they will do when they arrive, instead of the soft pattering of the rain, or the way the humid air makes their feathers puff up slightly.
...Chess? No, they practiced strategies yesterday. What about latte art? No, they already have basic shapes down and it would take too long to decide on what to draw…plus…well...Swatch doesn’t want their siblings to swamp them and make requests when they’re already feeling exhausted and mentally drained from so much attention at work…
They continue to spitball ideas in their mind as they find their feet automatically stop.
...Already? But they haven’t thought of what to do yet…
Their thoughts are interrupted abruptly by a flock of colors bursting through the door with excited trills, flapping their wings before wrapping them around Swatch. They let out an uncomfortable chuckle and clear their throat. The Swatchlings back up from them and they manage to greet them properly.
“SWATCH!”
“Welcome home, Sir!”
“We- We made- We made you dinner- Swatch!”
“Wwwwwhy do you haaaave an umbrellaaaa? It stopped raining ten minutes agooooo!”
Swatch and the other siblings blink, and their eyes trail up to the umbrella still hanging over Swatch’s head. A single droplet rolls from the tipped head of the umbrella and dives right onto the tip of their beak. A rainbow tint flushes across Swatch’s face, and they shake their head and blink rapidly.
“Ah, I… I had not noticed… My apologies.” They dip their head to accompany the apology, and start closing the umbrella.
“NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE SWATCH!”
“Apologize not , Sir!”
“No- no worries! No worries at all- Swatch!”
“Doooon’t sweat iiiiiiiit, Boooooss...”
Despite their initial embarrassment, their siblings’ greeting had once again brightened up their day- even just a little. They found a small amused smile reach their face, and let themself get ushered in gently by their siblings. Adorably impatient as usual, they think, as they shake their head fondly. They head toward their room to get dressed in their pyjamas, and proceed to stalk towards the shared dining room. Swatch stopped rubbing their tired eyes and was instantly revitalized by the positively lavish scent wafting into their nostrils. They sniff, once or twice, imagining the smooth taste of the gumbo, and the ingredients within them. They all take a seat at the long table, and thank each other for the meal before digging in.
At the first spoonful, a beautiful mix of flavors dance and twirl inside their mouth. They pop, and then melt, and so does Swatch. They can’t help the contented exhale through their nostrils as they take a moment to remember and savor the delicate taste.
...My, they really have outdone themselves today…
...Either that, or they’ve improved since last week. They hope it’s the latter, if it means they get to taste this kind of divine cooking from time to time.
Swatch slowly opens their eyes and finds their eyes meeting those of their siblings; they startle, jumping slightly before quickly recovering. “Um-” This is...different… They hadn’t stared at Swatch like this in quite some time… What had prompted this, they wonder.
“SWATCH! GOOD?”
“Let us know if there is anything you need fixed for you Sir!”
“Is- is the filé powder- is the powder alright, Swatch? I-I struggled- I struggled a bit with it so- so I hope you like it!”
“Sooooo...on a scaaaaale of one to teeeen...whaaaat would you rate iiiiiit?”
Swatch blinks, eyes slightly widened. They anticipated their siblings to ask them how they felt about the meal, but this time they had all felt a lot more… ecstatic to know than usual. They squint at them warily, trying to find the ulterior motive.
Not finding one, they smiled good naturedly, and nodded in closed-eye fashion.
“A perfect 10, as always,” They start modestly, placing down their spoon. “...Although…” They pretend to be in deep thought, furrowing their eyebrows and placing a delicate feather under their beak.
The colorful ensemble leaned in collectively, eyes all widening in suspense.
“...Crimson?”
“GOOD? GOOD, RIGHT? SWATCH??”
“....Marmalade?”
“A-ah… Is there something to your disliking, Sir?”
“...Lime?”
Lime sweats profusely.
“...Lapis?”
“Ssssomethingggg...wrong, Boss?”
Swatch has pure amusement dancing in their eyes like fire- it flicks and cackles. They move their feather away from under their beak, and a smile stretches lopsidedly to an eye.
“...You all outdid yourselves today. Tell me- did I just so happen to forget some sort of momentous occasion? Did I forget my birthday again?” Swatch asks, in half jest.
An enormous wave of relief washed over the rest of the feathered family, and they all let go the breath they were holding.
“DON’T SCARE CRIMSON LIKE THAT!”
The group looked at each other, scanning each other’s faces. They all nod, and Swatch squints their eyes, furrows their brows, and only barely manages to stop their head from tilting to the side in confusion. Just what were they up to this time?
“WE SAW THAT YOU WERE FEELING DOWN IN DUMPS LATELY…”
Marmalade doesn’t even glance Crimson’s way when he steps in to correct them. “Down in the dumps, Crim.”
“THAT’S WHAT CRIMSON JUST SAID.”
Marmalade opens his mouth, only for their words to die in their throat when Lime tramples over whatever sentence he was about to shoot back at Crimson.
“We decided- we decided to make you a- a wonderful- a wonderful dinner to cheer you up!”
Lapis and Crimson nod frantically at Lime’s explanation, and Marmalade just nods curtly. Swatch’s eyes widen drastically, and they lean back in their chair. It takes them a moment to recover, and when they do, they shake their head and sigh fondly.
“You four… Well, rest easy as I can undoubtedly say it is deli- wait-four?" Swatch knew something felt off- now they know why. One of them was missing.
The four Swatchlings glance at each other, and collectively give Swatch an array of puzzled looks. Swatch blinks, and they sit up straight in their chair. “Where is Chartreuse? They usually tag along with you four.” They all respond in unison with a jovial “Oooooh!”
Marmalade rolls their eyes as they place a wing under their beak in exasperation.
“Char Char overworked themself literally sick yesterday, so they’re in bed getting some rest.”
From the corner of their eye, Swatch can see Crimson and Lime are leaning back from each other, waving their arms frantically in an attempt to hit the other. They watch Marmalade kick them from under the dinner table without opening an eye- the two immediately stop and look around the room as if they hadn’t been caught.
“If you ask me,” He starts, wing pressed against his chest.
“They should always take long naps like this. Poor darling always overworks themself.”
“Kiiiiindaaaaa....Liiiiiiike youuuuu, Boooss!” Lapis says with a slouch, and a deceivingly nonchalant feather pointed in Swatch’s direction. Swatch knows this look.
Swatch didn’t get enough time to even attempt to process his comment- let alone respond- as Marmalade cuts in, side-eyeing them when he thought they weren’t looking. “...Whiiiich,” They drag, looking at Lapis with a silent warning.
“...They should definitely work on.”
Marmalade casts another glance toward Swatch, their brow furrowing for a split second before they clasp their feathered hands together to draw attention to himself. “Well! I’m absolutely exhausted, so excuse me.” They picked up their empty bowl of gumbo and drifted to the kitchen to wash it. The other three nod at each other and proceed to do the same. They finish washing their bowls in the sink, and they all bid farewell to their oldest sibling.
“SWEET DREAMS!”
Marmalade gives Swatch an elegant bow. “Sir.”
“N-Night night- Swatch!” Crimson and Lime wave enthusiastically.
Lapis nods vaguely in Swatch’s direction, as he drags his sleepy form towards the direction of his room. The others follow suit.
Swatch spent the rest of the night picking at the cold ingredients in their bowl. They spent the rest of the night picking and eating at the signals their siblings had knowingly tossed in their direction. They knew now…how... concerned ...they all were. Swatch could tell they wanted to say more. They could sense they were holding back. They saw how Crimson kept sneaking glances at them...how Marmalade dropped hints of advice in their conversation. Swatch saw the way Lime kept shooting them weak, but encouraging smiles- saw Lapis’ sleepy yet highly trained gaze as they studied them- looking for something.
Swatch examines these interactions...they don’t know what to think about them.
Their eyes slowly drift to the digital clock on the kitchen counter.
...It reads 12:46 in glowing, blinking, red.