Work Text:
Warren went out for a smoke break- would have gone out for a smoke break. He went out to smoke but it wasn’t really a break at all. He was fired. He piled all his belongings, fliers and bike pump and all the little things he accumulated at his work desk into his backpack and left. He’d like to think he left with dignity, with his pride intact but even a master of self denial could know that wasn’t true. He cried, he screamed and he pleaded and bargained for his job back but, what was done was done.
Stupid fucking Jennafur. Stupid fucking Steve! If they had just kept their mouths shut he wouldn’t be here! It wasn’t workplace harassment! He was merely trying to inform his colleagues of a promising business opportunity and when they didn’t understand how important it was he reiterated. And reiterated. And sent texts and emails and went to their houses after work and cornered them in the grocery store. None of that took place at work except for a little bit of it!
It didn’t matter, none of it did anymore. So Warren sat out on the sidewalk, face still flushed and eyes still watery as he puffed on cigarette after cigarette to dull the ache in his heart. He would be fine! What was five years at the company anyway? He felt another round of tears choke up his throat and into his eyes. God, it was embarrassing. Shielding his eyes from onlookers, Warren choked and sniffled quietly, his tears dripping into the concrete.
“Oh my! Dear, are you quite alright?” came a voice and Warren swore he saw an angel. The man standing before him had kind eyes, long eyelashes and a unibrow quirked in concern. His skin was powder blue and lips soft and full. Fluffy black hair disguised his antenna and from his back bloomed two gorgeous yellow wings that made Warren’s stomach pit in jealousy. He wore a black dress shirt and pants and despite the dark clothing, he sparkled like a bright light against the dreary grey of the city that Warren was used to.
“I-“ Warren scrubbed furiously at his eyes with his free hand. “Yeah I’m fine, mate.” While Warren was feeling a bit gloomy he wasn’t in the mood for this stranger, beautiful as he may be, to laugh at him and his problems. But the stranger didn’t seem to be going away. In fact, he took a seat next to Warren on the filthy sidewalk! In front of everyone!
“Something tells me that isn’t the full truth,” the stranger said in his soft lilting voice. He placed a hand on Warren’s leg, right where his khaki shorts had ridden up over his knee and Warren nearly hissed at the warm, unfamiliar touch. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Warren paused. Yes, obviously yes he would like to talk about it, but his ego was so bruised and fragile he wasn’t sure if he could take another blow today- no matter how small. The stranger took this silence as a no.
“There is so much hatred in this world,” he said in a tone too aged for how young he looked. Too world weary for someone so lovely. “It’s hard to not get sad every now and then. But we are lucky, friend. You know why?”
Warren only just managed to look up at him to shake his head. The man smiled.
“We are lucky because while there is much hatred, there is even more love. My name is Shrignold the Butterfly, dear, could I get yours?”
Warren fumbled in his pockets with his free hand, his other hand still nursing the last of a cigarette. He pulled out his business card and handed it to Shrignold. He watched the butterfly read it, wearily waiting for the surprise and mockery at the word Eagle. Instead, the man’s eyes seemed to grow wider, more glittery as he smiled thoughtfully. At this close, Warren noticed one of his pupils was a pink love heart.
“Warren,” he said softly, as if savoring the word. “Is such a lovely name for such a lovely eagle.” And with how sincerely he said it, Warren almost believed him. Warren had seen himself, no amount of confidence would make him conventionally beautiful. His out of control acne, bad zits carefully covered with medicated stickers, his beady- often sleep deprived- wild eyes. His body that was all at once sinewy and pudgy or his lilac hair that fluctuated so often from greasy to dry that he found it easier to hide it under his worn blue cap. Hell, his wings haven’t even grown in yet! Leaving him with a soft, acned and wormy tail instead. He was not a lovely eagle.
However, this beautiful butterfly looked at him in such a way that Warren could almost believe that at least he believes that Warren is lovely.
“Listen, uh,” Warren sniffled and stubbed out the last of his smoke. “I’m really not interested in joining your business venture or whatever it is you're selling. I-“ but the rest of what Warren was saying drowned out by delighted giggles.
“Oh my, no! No, I'm not selling anything, silly! In fact, your card there says you’re a friendship expert. I like to think of myself as a friendship expert as well,” he said cryptically, as if begging for Warren to ask more. Well, Warren wasn’t typically one to beg but he was deeply intrigued by the stranger and wanted to know more.
“Do- do you also work for the Ok Stop Corporation?” Warren asked softly. Shrignold smiled, tilting his head slightly to the side.
“No, I work for something far grander. A community built upon love and friendship that is always looking for new like minded members. I could show you, if you like?”
Warren was sufficiently wowed. A whole community of friends, friends that are presumably as kind as the man before him is?
“Um, yeah, yeah of course mate I’d love to see it. Yanno, with two friendship experts we’ll really have the whole place running smoothly, eh?” Warren said, his confidence starting to inflate. Shrignold gave a delighted laugh and held Warren’s hands tightly in his own. Warren tried desperately to fight the blush rising to his cheeks, un-used to people initiating touch with him.
“I want you to think your happiest, loveliest thoughts,” Shrignold said in all earnestness, his wings flapping idly behind him. Warren raised a brow but supposed he could humor the man. He thinks about going out with his friends for food and drinks, he thinks about playing his keyboard and the taste of that first cigarette. He thinks about how lovely his wings will be when they grow in, their soft feathers lifting him off the ground. He was standing on the ground, wasn’t he? He felt lighter than air, and he wanted to look down at his feet but found that he couldn’t, that he was mesmerized by Shrignold’s love heart eyes.
He thinks about curling up under his comforter after a long day, the cold air at bay by the soft blanket. He thinks about how cute Shrignold looks with his nose all scrunched up in a big grin. The world around him turns pink and soft and Warren knows that they must be moving but is unaware how as Shrignold’s wings are so soft and idle they could barely form a breeze. Yet still, they must be flying because the air is so clean. Gone is the smell of grime and city, the air smells like ozone and cotton candy.
When he is finally able to break his gaze from Shrignold, the world around him is changed. The world is soft pastels where greys and browns used to be, and the skyscraper like buildings around them were replaced by quaint cottages and a small white chapel in the center of town. Shrignold squeezed Warren’s hands tightly before letting go and gesturing broadly around them.
“Welcome to my home, dear!” Shrignold exclaimed. Warren couldn’t believe his eyes. How? How did they get to this place, this beautiful otherworldly place? How did it exist? It barely took them a few minutes to get here but it was no place that Warren had ever seen before, much less someplace near the Ok Stop building. But all of these questions died on Warren’s tongue as he felt something strange wash over him. There was a sense of calm permeating this place, it felt more like home than anywhere else he’d ever been.
“This is where you live then?” Warren asked, the words sounding as dumb as he felt once he heard them. But Shrignold didn’t look at him like he said something dumb. He looked happy, happy to have someone to talk to. He looked like he was about to answer before a short bunny boy ran towards them.
“Prophet Shrignold! Where have you been- wh-who is this person?” he panted, having clearly been searching for the butterfly. Warren suddenly felt a twinge of embarrassment that he wasn’t expecting. Should he have been calling Shrignold ‘prophet’? Should he even really be here?
“Now now, calm yourself. I had only stepped out for a moment when I met this wonderful new friend, you’ll put the kettle on for us, won’t you, dear?” Shrignold said, his voice so sweet and placating that Warren was as compelled to follow as the bunny boy was, who scampered off to make them some tea. Shrignold smiled sheepishly at Warren, as if he was the one supposed to be embarrassed.
“Won’t you follow me, dear? To my quarters? I can explain all that you wish once we are there,” he asked and took the breath from Warren’s lungs. He wanted Warren inside his house? No one wanted Warren in his house. Hell, half the time if Warren was truly honest with himself, he didn’t want to be around himself. But Shrignold did, and Warren wanted to be around him. Warren smiled and slipped his hand into Shrignold’s, and Shrignold squeezed his hand in return.
“Sure then, lead the way!” And Shrignold did.
He led them on winding gravel lined foot roads, the grass all soft and pink in people’s yards with beautiful technicolor flora that looked so familiar to Warren but ever so slightly off. He led them to a modest cottage on the other side of the white chapel, it was white with pink accents and small but carefully tended flower beds outside the windows. The inside was just as small and neatly manicured as the outside, the living room was shades of pastel pinks and yellows, the furniture soft and everything clean. In the dining room a hot kettle of tea sat perched on a white doily, with two china tea cups and matching sugar and cream bowls.
“Sit down, friend,” Shrignold said, already preparing his tea, heavy with cream and sugar. “How do you like your tea?”
“Uh, black, thanks,” Warren said, taking the seat across from the butterfly. “Um, so you're a prophet then, not a friendship expert. You know- lying is a bad move when it comes to making friends and you really ought to be forthcoming with this sort of information and-” and Warren went on, quoting paragraph after paragraph from his Ok Stop handbook he had memorized and Shrignold simply watched him.
He didn’t seem upset or even slightly phazed by the lecture, he looked amused, stifling back giggles with sips of tea.
“Oh, you are refreshing company to be sure,” Shrignold said once Warren finished his tirade. The worm was shocked at the compliment.
“Yes, I am no friendship expert in so many words but our jobs are very similar. I am a- oh what’s the word- a- a preacher, dear. I preach the word of love and friendship, I am given messages from a figure greater than you or I and in return I am a, well, an expert in my little community. I am who they go to when looking for answers about love or friendship,” Shrignold explained casually, so casually it gave Warren pause.
“So you don’t work for Ok Stop, and you’re a friendship expert, and you receive messages from a higher power…. So which corporation do you work for then? I’m looking for a new job!”
Shrignold’s face twitched imperceptibly, but he felt it.
“Oh, we’ve spoken so much about me, what about you? Hmm?” he responded smoothly, dodging the question like an expert. Well, Warren simply couldn’t resist speaking on his favorite subject.
“Me?” Warren exclaimed excitedly, not used to, well, anyone asking about him. “I’m basically your fairly average eagle. My wings haven’t grown in yet but when they do they’ll be bigger and stronger than all the rest and I’ll get to meet the royal family of another planet. They’ll probably make me a royal advisor because my business ideas are so good…”
Shrignold enjoyed watching Warren talk. Especially about himself. No one ever wanted to talk about themselves around Shrignold, they were far too occupied asking about him. About his visions, his sermons, has he heard any news from Malcolm yet and why doesn’t he have a Special One.
“… it’ll end in a civil war but honestly it would have happened anyway and the Queen and King were lucky I was there. But really, Shrignold, it must be nice having so many friends, yeah?”
Shrignold blushed.
“F-friends? No, no dear I don’t have many of those,” he said, a light laugh in his voice as he brushed off the subject. Warren raised a brow.
“But all these folks are your friends?” he asked, more like a leading question.
“Oh no, not really. I love them, dearly I do, but they aren’t my friends,” Shrignold said, starting to sound sad. “I’m responsible for them. I don’t… I don’t have anyone. Anyone to lay my sorrows on, my joys, my secrets. No. It would be irresponsible of me. I’m a leader for this community and a prophet, it’s none of their business what I may go through.”
Warren scrunched up his face in thought. How could anyone so kind and lovely have not a single friend in the world? How could someone so sweet have so much sadness within him? It started to make Warren sad himself, just thinking about how lonely Shrignold must feel in a community full of people.
“I could, that is if you want, I could hold on to your sorrows for a bit. I don’t mind, they can be friends with my sorrows,” Warren said at last and was feeling quite clever for his little joke. Shrignold brightened like a flower greeting the morning’s sun.
“Oh Warren! Oh you don’t mean that do you?” he asked and oh, how beautiful did Warren’s name sound coming from Shrignold’s lips.
“Yeah, of course I do. Being a good friend is about being there for your mates. And I think I wouldn't mind being there for you,” Warren said, soundly uncharacteristically shy near the end. He couldn’t stop thinking about how sad Shrignold had looked, and how he lit up for Warren and Warren alone. It made his palms sweat, made his heart beat a bit erratically but he found he didn’t care so much.
But Shrignold started to look sad again, and Warren wondered what could possibly be the matter. Obviously Shrignold liked him so why was his offer of friendship met with such a mournful expression.
“Warren, I have a confession to make,” he said, gnawing at his bottom lip in a nervous manner. Warren started to wilt too.
“You- you don’t want to be my friend?” Warren asked and he’d normally be angry if he wasn’t so drowned in grief. Shrignold sighed, his face stricken looking exactly the way Warren felt.
“I do! I do so much want to be your friend but I must be honest with you,” he said, and then his voice lowered. “I have warm feelings for you.” Shrignold looked so miserable at admitting it but Warren was confused, feeling heat rush to his face.
“W-warm?” he asked. He wasn’t sure what Shrignold meant, he couldn’t possibly have feelings for Warren, even Warren couldn’t delude himself into thinking he was the catch of the two. But still…
“I’ve always been told by our King Malcolm that these feelings would come when- when I’ve found my Special One,” he whispered ‘Special One’ like it was a naughty secret. “I’ve never felt this way before. I’m a little scared Warren.”
Warren paused, piecing this information together before it finally started to click, realization settling on his face.
“You… want me?” he asked and it was a question but to Shrignold it felt more like a statement, an absolute truth.
“Yes,” Shrignold breathed, relieved to be understood, tension starting to melt from his body. Warren reiterated.
“You want me?” and it was even more statement now than before, the words pierced them both like swords.
“Yes,” Shrignold said, shame rushing to his voice and face. He felt so ashamed, this was against all that he knew, all that he taught. Not everyone in his community had their Special One and here was Shrignold, being selfish and trying to take Warren away from them, to take Warren for himself. He went to fidget with his hands, to anything to distract from the burning shame in his stomach before he discovered his hand wasn’t his anymore, and was held tight by Warren.
“You… you don’t have to be scared around me, mate. I don’t think I know what a special one is, but I know I like you a lot. I don’t think whatever it is your feeling right now will change that. Because I want you too,” Warren said softly, as if he was worried he’d scare Shrignold off. His smile was so sincere, his eyes so adoring that Shrignold felt a lump form in his throat. How blessed was he, that these expressions from Warren were all for him.
“May I… May I kiss you, Warren?” Shrignold asked, his voice soft and breathy as if these words came directly from his heart, brain not even given a chance to stop him. Similarly, Warren’s brain short circuited at the request leaving him to grin goofily and his voice maybe a bit too cheery and casual for the gravitas Shrignold had given this situation.
“Uhm yeah sure!” he said, and Shrignold kissed him.
He grabbed Warren’s face so tenderly like he was art to be held and cherished, and kissed him. His soft, glossy lips touched Warren’s own chapped lips with a worship that was altogether soft and firm and wonderful. He tasted like nectar, like wine and blood and incense smoke and all things rich and deep and heady. Warren knew that he should have his eyes closed like Shrignold did but he marveled at how close the other man was to him, how his features blurred and morphed and looked dream-like and lovely. Shrignold tilted his head, love drunk on Warren’s kiss and wanting to plunge deeper for more. It was everything, it was all of Malcolm’s love made real and tangible, like his prayers were finally answered. Warren’s hands against his chest were hot like embers of a falling star. He drew soft encouraging whimpers from Warren’s throat before pulling apart, their lips making a wet popping sound.
Shrignold started to feel a bit self-conscious. What if Warren didn’t want it, what if he was coming on too strong or worse- what if Warren felt like he couldn’t say no to Shrignold because of his elevated status. Shrignold went to open his mouth to apologize but was cut off before the words could come out
“Hahaahaa, wow!” Warren said dizzily, his love-dumb expression sending electric bolts through Shrignold. He brightened immediately, giggling softly to himself.
“I agree. It was alright for you?” he asked and Warren balked at him.
“Alright?? Shrignold! You should be some kind of kissing expert! Except… maybe not, I don’t think I’d like it too much if you went around teaching people to kiss,” Warren said, a twinge of jealousy forming from his made up scenario. Shrignold grinned, pressing their foreheads together.
“No, I don’t think I’d like going around kissing other people either,” he said and Warren trilled with his strange little laugh. Warren moved his head away so he could look into Shrignold’s eyes, he grabbed Shrignold’s hands in his own.
“Hey, uh, would you like to go out for a restaurant style meal? With me?” he asked, far too shyly for someone who had just finished kissing the man. Shrignold tilted his head.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever gone out for a restaurant style meal before, do you think it’s something I’d enjoy?”
Warren absolutely lit up.
“Yeah! It’s great fun, we can get drinks and share meals and chat and sometimes there’s sports on the televisions and we can have a laugh at the people who are way too invested in the losing team,” he listed off more things that constituted a restaurant style meal and Shrignold wasn’t all too familiar with what endless breadsticks were or what cheeky gossip would entail but he found he was very interested in learning for the evening instead of teaching.
“...and it could even be a date, if you like?” Now dates, that was something Shrignold was familiar with. He brought their joined hands up to his lips, kissing Warren’s knuckles softly.
“I would love to go on a date with you, Warren,” he said, voice dripping with sincerity.
It was worth the trip back into the city, back into the grime and gloom that Warren called home- if only to see how he shined, how he beamed. How handsome he looked under the yellow mood lighting, how he fumbled and stuttered and yearned for Shrignold’s smiles and kisses. It was worth it all to see how that once sad and alone eagle was transformed, and was once again handsome and confident. Just how Shrignold always knew he was.
They shared a kiss goodbye, as Shrignold walked Warren to his flat. The evening rain was warm and soft and made their lips slippery against each other and Shrignold wished him goodnight, flying away to his own little cottage in the sky.
They both fell asleep that night with smiles on their lips, dreaming of their second date.