Work Text:
He aims at the target again, lining up the sight with the red dot in the centre. He squints, trying to focus on it as it moves and wiggles, shifting far too much for him to focus on it completely.
He releases the bolt, and it thuds into the wall behind the target. He lowers the crossbow with a huff, wings tensing behind him as he glares at the bolt, the fifth one to embed itself in the wall.
It’s several feet to the left of the target, far too off for him to even try and claim that he had just been a little off. He hears someone laugh, looking over to his left. He has to turn his head all the way around to face the person laughing at him.
He tries not to feel self-conscious as he sees Scott leaning over the gate to the Ranch, watching him with a smug look on his face. He resists the urge to turn away, hide and cover the scar that everyone on the server has caught a glimpse of now.
He ditched the cod head after they turned red, showing off the scar to try and intimidate others. All it’s done so far is gain him mockery.
“I think you're still a little off, Jimmy!” Scott shouts, gesturing over to where the bolt has landed. He tightens his grip on the crossbow, breathing in, then out. Tango’s out, somewhere else, away from him. Scott only visits when it’s just one of them now, preferring to taunt one when the other can't jump to their defence.
He stalks closer, still clutching the crossbow until he’s on the other side of the gate, glaring at Scott. “You be careful,” he warns, “I’ll shoot you otherwise. I'm red now.”
“I think I’d be more worried if you were aiming for someone next to me,” Scott brushes his threat off with a laugh, and it stokes the fire a little more. He can feel his wings ruffling as he glares at Scott, “Though, I still reckon you’d miss both of us. Maybe work on your sight a little?”
He grabs for Scott’s arm, barely managing to grab on, finding it a little further to the right than he had expected it to be. He still manages to drag him closer, fingers curling around his arm, nails digging into his bare skin. “I’ll kill you.” He swears, “I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill you again. See who the canary is then, hm?”
Scott laughs.
“I’d take a few steps back, Scott.” Tango appears behind him, hand resting on his shoulder, and Scott startles. He jolts back, his laugh cutting off as he finds two of them where there was one before. “We’ll kill you, got it?”
Scott takes one step back, then another, until he’s three steps from the gate of the Ranch, hands raised in the air. Even his surrender is mocking, as he looks at Jimmy with a smirk. He glares back at him, even as his face warms with embarrassment.
“C’mon.” Tango grabs his hand, palm warm against his, pulling him away from the gate. “What was he saying?”
“Nothing.” He manages, hand tightening around the crossbow for a second before he sighs, releasing the tension, “Just that I need to work on my sight.” He laughs, “Obviously I can't do that.”
“That’s wrong.” Tango frowns.
“Anything goes here.”
“That doesn't make it right.” Tango argues, “Just, come here, I’ll help you with it.” He pulls him a little closer, turning them both so they're facing the targets again. He can hear Scott talking to someone, low whispering. He laughs, and Jimmy grits his teeth, focusing on the target.
“I can't get it to line up.” He complains, “It just always goes wide.”
“Only because your depth perception is a little messed up, you're at a disadvantage to practically everyone else trying to shoot something.”
“That doesn't help me actually hit anything.”
“Which is why we’re doing this. I'm going to aim it, and you can get used to the difference in perspective for you.” Tango slips an arm around him, steadying the crossbow with both hands. He’s pressed close enough for him to feel his breath against his cheek.
He breathes in, then releases the bolt as he breathes out. It hits the target, not quite in the centre but not far off. “See?” Tango says, “We’ll do it again so you can get used to it, alright?”
He lines it up again, and the crossbow looks like it’s pointed just a little too far to the left, just a little too far off-centre for it to actually hit the target where they're aiming. They release it, and it hits the target again.
“Oh.” He breathes, staring at the two bolts that are firmly embedded in the target.
“See?” Tango grins at him, their faces still incredibly close, Tango’s arm still wrapped around his waist. He shifts a wing until it’s just behind Tango’s shoulder, not quite a hug but not far off from it.
“Yeah.” He grins, “Yeah, I do see.” Tango bumps their heads together, and he grins a little more, looking back at the target again.
“See!” Scott yells across the wall, “You just need to hire Tango as your guide dog!” Cleo smacks him on the back of the head, and he winces, rubbing his head as he turns to look at her. She mutters something at him, something about them being red that he doesn't quite catch.
Tango hums thoughtfully, the sound vibrating in his chest like the clicking of a sculk sensor. They both watch as Scott and Cleo move away from the wall, Scott sending one last smirk behind him as they leave.
“How would you feel about a moving target practice?” He asks, voice thoughtful.
“I dunno,” he hefts the crossbow a little further into his arms, “Will you help me aim again?”
“Of course.” Tango steps closer, guiding the crossbow over the wall, “The trick is to aim a little in front of where they are, in the direction they're headed. That way,” he lines it up just in front of Scott, “It always hits true.”
They breathe in at the same time, releasing as they exhale. He watches it sail through the air, embedding itself in Scott’s shoulder. He stumbles forward, hand going to clutch at his shoulder.
The blood quickly begins to seep through his jacket, staining the yellow red. Cleo curses, loud enough to be heard from where they stand. He can hear Cleo scolding Scott too, berating him for antagonising red lives. Good.
Tango raises his hand for a high-five. He aims for it, and misses, going just a little too wide. Tango simply grabs his wrist in his own hand, helping him with the high-five as they watch Cleo help Scott stumble home.
He laughs once they're definitely out of earshot, and Tango laughs too. “He’s gonna kill us.”
“Oh definitely, but I reckon we can take him down now, right?” Tango doesn't release his wrist, hand slipping down to entwine with his own.
“Obviously.”