Archive of Our Own

Jack had never known what to think of dreams. 

Once to him they were nothing more than a distant concept, a phrase uttered by humans that held no meaning to him, for which he had no frame of reference. Something he could never touch. 

It was confusing, really. Why humans had decided something as important as one’s greatest aspirations and desires should be named the same as the half-baked figments of their unconscious mind in the night was beyond him. At least, at first.

“It’s just your noodle blendin’ up all your thoughts into some weird picture film. Really, they don’t mean much of anything.”

That was what Parker had told him, during those first long nights in the apartment where Jack had tossed and turned, and always woke up screaming and drenched in sweat. He had asked him once, during a lazy afternoon as they both poured over a chessboard, why there were two uses of the word if they didn’t seem to be related. Parker didn’t really have an answer. 

Jack had never told Parker about his dreams. 

Those nights, they were always of the King. Towering and distant, trailing golden silk that twisted around him like jagged winds of a hurricane, always so close and yet just far enough from reach. His true purpose. 

A lie.

The King still remained a present figure in Jack’s dreams, but his chases after the ever-elusive golden light subsided, soured by his seething hatred and the truth of his own nature. Jack was human. He wanted to be human. He had accepted it. But one thing seemed to remain.

Jack still dreamed of the wings. 

For whatever reason, from whatever subconscious desire his mind kept choosing to dredge up each night, he could not let go of the wings . 

It always went the same. Dark feathers, speckled in gold like fallen fragments of stars unfurling from his back, as strong and powerful as they were utterly beautiful. His wings. He would gaze up into the eternal amber sky with a ravenous hunger, the freedom of flight so tantalizingly near. And always, without fail, before his wonderful wings could beat for the first time and finally carry him up into those open clouds, he would wake.

And each time he would lay in his familiar suffocating dark, and try not to let the overwhelming want choke him to tears. Eventually, he’d wrap himself tightly around Parker and squeeze his eyes shut, willing himself back to sleep.

How was it possible to miss so deeply something he had never truly had?

Jack was human. And he liked being human, really, he did. More importantly, he loved being with Parker. But still he couldn’t help but swallow down the promises of power unkept, his dreams of being something so much more.

With all of this, Jack could only wonder how foolish he was to not connect the dots sooner.

—

Jack had hardly noticed the first feather. 

He had felt it as he ran a hand through his hair after hanging his coat, back from an evening walk through the fields with Parker. It had only twinged a little as he plucked it, turning it over in his hand for a moment. Something caught in his hair from outside, he had thought, and considered no more as he moved to dispose of it, Parker hooking an arm around him and pulling him in for a peck.

The second feather had been more odd. As Jack drowsily peeled his socks off, it had fallen onto his hand, the light brush of it startling him into awareness. Something more from outside? How had it gotten into his shoe, let alone his socks? Idly Jack had wondered if something were happening with the wildlife, if perhaps the native birds were… molting more? He had made a mental note to ask Parker if he had noticed anything peculiar about them the next time they were out, which he promptly forgot the moment his head hit the pillow. 

The third feather made him freeze. 

It was as Jack had run a soapy hand over his left arm in the bath that he suddenly felt a sharp pin needle of pain. His fingers went still, closed around something long sticking from his forearm. With a thundering heart, he pulled, and with a second prickle of pain the thing came loose in his hand, what he could now recognize as the fraying vane of a bent flight feather.

From there, it only grew worse. Contours dotting along his legs, wisps of down from his chest, long flights poking and bending the wrong way beneath his sleeves. Those ones had hurt the most to remove, sometimes trickling blood as he tore them from his arms early each morning, locked up in the bathroom before Parker could wake. Jack could feel himself spiraling more with each new feather he plucked, the rising confusion and fear threatening to swallow him whole, but one thing remained perfectly clear.

He could not tell Parker.

The decision had been made in one terrifying moment. Parker had a gentle hand cupped to his cheek, alcohol heavy in both of their breaths as Jack leaned in closer, and Parker’s hand shifted beneath his hair to move towards his ear. Jack suddenly flinched away as though he’d pressed a hot coal to his skin with a bitten off yelp. 

“Woah- you alright, crackerjack?”  Parker faltered, quickly moving his hands away as Jack pressed a palm to the side of his head with a wince. His heart sunk as his fingertips came away wet.

“You had a feather caught in your hair, did I scratch you with it?” Parker placed a steadying hand on his arm as he seemed to look at Jack with concern. “Christ- you’re bleeding a bit-”

Jack jerked away with a jolt of fear. “Fine- it’s fine. Just a scratch.” His heart had leapt into his throat as he covered the blood with his hand, and he felt a stab of guilt as Parker immediately backed away.

“You sure? We should probably get something for it, germs ‘n all-”

“I’ve got it.” Jack cut him off, stepping away and leaving (not fleeing. He was calm. He was very calm.) for the bathroom.

“You can feel it out alright on your own?” Parker called after him, well-meaning, of course he was, he always was, but Jack snapped. 

“I don’t need your help!” He shot back with more bite than he meant, as he definitely didn’t slam the bathroom door shut, fumbling for the lock. 

Parker’s voice came muffled and quiet from outside. “Right… I’m… I’m sorry, Jack.” And Jack immediately wanted to gut himself. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, alright?” Parker offered gently, and Jack had neglected to answer, as he ran his hand over his ear and felt the prickling sensation of several twisted feathers nestled around it. 

—

Jack wasn’t sure at what point he knew he was becoming something.

It came with no spark of realization, no dawning horror as he felt over patches of new feathers to pluck, but rather an ever-present, obvious truth. Something like this only had one end. 

Jack had stopped sleeping in their bed three nights ago. He was coming down with something, he had told Parker, he didn’t want him to catch it too. He could feel Parker’s worried gaze on him then, but he didn’t push. Parker never pushed.

Jack had become fully aware of them now, of the stabbing sensation of each one pushing through his skin, more and more each day. He had taken to wearing longer sleeves, more layers, and it made him sweat even in the chill of December, as he soon discovered his down could trap heat very well. What he didn’t understand was how much his ears ached, and the sheer amount of feathers concentrated around them, so much so that he had given up attempting to remove all of them, as his hair was long and thick enough to hide them well if he was especially careful. Patches of irritated and scabbed skin from the plucking covered him head to toe, and sleep became harder. He often had no choice but to lie awake, mind going miles a second as he wondered how much longer he could keep this up, how much worse it would get.

He got his answer.

Excruciating pain was what dragged Jack from his fourth night’s sleep on the couch. He rolled over with a stifled whine before nearly falling off completely as pain shot like lightning from his shoulder blades. Jack’s ears rang as he tried to sit up, and it felt as though the sides of his skull were being crushed in with hammers. He let out a low groan, moving his hands to cover his ears, but froze as he felt something catch on his hair. It dawned on him suddenly that his hands felt… heavier. His breath caught in his throat as he brushed over his left hand, only to be met with the hard clicks of solid keratin, and the prickle of claw tips pressing into his feathery wrists. 

…Fuck. Fuck.

Jack doubled over as pain seared in his ears once again, and it felt as though something were stabbing swords right into his shoulder blades. 

Jack needed to leave.

He fumbled blindly for the door, his panic and pain making him forget the layout he’d committed so well to memory, and was met with a burst of freezing winter air. 

It didn’t matter. Jack couldn’t be here.

He stumbled out into the cold, no longer containing his sounds of agony and desperation as the pressure on his back mounted with each step, and he could hardly hear past the blood roaring in his ears. But still he pushed forward through the falling snow, labored breaths billowing.

Jack didn’t know how far he had gone into the woods when it happened. 

All at once came the wet tearing of flesh, and Jack cried out as he tumbled hard onto the frost covered forest floor, curling in on himself as blood ran hot down the sides of his face, as it soaked the torn fabric of the back of his shirt, as it trailed down his spine. Something heavy splattered onto the snow on either sides of him.

Jack’s claws dug into the earth like a lifeline, and he grit his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter in his mouth. Though it would still be nothing compared to the agony of whatever was currently fighting to push itself out of the gorey gashes in his back, of whatever was flexing itself from the torn flesh on either side of his head. 

Jack screamed when the wings finally stretched from his back.

It had tangled in his throat, strangled around fresh formed biology, around an agony worse than anything he had ever experienced in this body, and with a shuddering gasp, suddenly so much deeper than before, he raised his face pleading towards the endless night sky he would never see.

I’m sorry, Parker , was his last conscious thought before he collapsed into the snow. 

—

Parker didn’t know what he had done wrong. 

It was far from rare that he and Jack would get into arguments, and Parker knew he could be a bit of a stubborn ass at times, but really , he could not for the life of him figure out what he had done this time.

He had turned all of the day’s interactions over and over in his head as he lay in bed each of those four lonely nights, and all had eventually landed him squarely at only one conclusion: there was something Jack was hiding from him. 

Parker was stubborn, sure. But he wasn’t an idiot. And Jack sure as hell had a good poker face, but it had never stopped the rest of his body from giving him away. 

Parker could see the way Jack tensed whenever he entered the room, the way he’d white-knuckle his mug of coffee when they sat together, the way he’d rub distractedly at his forearms before hurriedly excusing himself. 

Parker had tried a few of his usual angles. Flirty at first, thinking maybe Jack had just gone sour on him over something small. Then easygoing, to see if he could get him to loosen up a little. After that, just a gentle nudge, letting him know he could always bring up anything that was wrong. No dice. 

He had finally settled on a direct approach when he marched into the living room that morning, mind buzzing with words he’d mulled over the entire night, only to find the blankets strewn across the floor and a chilling draft blowing in from the cracked open door as it creaked on its hinges. 

Parker was outside in minutes, arm still working its way through one of his coat sleeves, calling out for Jack with rising worry. Jack’s coat had still been hanging next to his. Parker was well aware of how much Jack couldn’t stand the cold, always burying his nose deep into his scarf with a huff at every passing wind. His concern only grew when he saw Jack’s boots still sitting dry too.

“Jack! Are you out here???” Parker called out for what must have been the fifth time already, and his mind was racing with all manner of horrible scenarios as he drew towards the woods. The wind had picked up, causing the branches above his head to shiver as his steps grew quicker through the crunching snow. The persistent night’s snow hadn’t left so much as a footprint for him to follow, and desperation took him in a vice grip.

…Was this his fault?

“Jack, I’m… I’m sorry!” Parker called out, a lump in his throat forming as the reality of the situation was beginning to set in. “I don’t know what’s wrong right now- but- whatever it is, we can work it out, I-I promise!” 

The blanketed forest gave no answer.

“Just… come back home.” His voice fell to a forlorn whisper.

Parker had moved slowly to turn back when something caught his eye.

Red.

Less visible at first beneath the shade of the trees, Parker could see the tinted color of the snow as he stepped closer, heart thundering.

Blood.

So much of it.

There was a huge imprint in the snowbank, bleeding into a darker crimson towards the center, and seeming to punctuate a longer trail that stretched out beyond. Parker could see the blood dripping down it, dotted along with what looked to be… black feathers?

Parker moved to pick one up carefully, and the thing shimmered with flecks of gold as he tilted it in the morning light. It was unlike any feather he’d ever seen, and were it not for the situation, Parker might even have thought it was quite beautiful. His train of thought quickly faltered, however, as he spotted the footprints. Four toed, clawed, and easily dwarfing his own.

The blood along the trail was still fresh. 

Parker was stupid to think they could have been safe here.

He practically sprinted back to the house to dig out the rifle, grip hard and jaw set as he quickly made back for the trail. Parker’s mind raced as he tried his best to quietly follow along the tracks, scanning the trees. He’d be damned if he was going to let some fucking bird monster drag Jack out into the cold woods to die a horrible death for its next meal. Not now, not after all they had been through, all they had survived-

The trail had opened up out of the woods. 

Parker seemed to have circled back around to the old barn. The dark tiles of the roof were falling off, and the faded red paint was peeling on the open doors. Parker tensed as he stepped closer, then seeing the large claw marks along the wood, as though the creature had torn the entrance open to make way. Still more blood and feathers trailed inside.

Parker took a deep, shaky breath, and tried his best to steady the rifle in his hands. Some small, reasonable part of his brain tried to make him prepare for what he might see. The louder part immediately drowned it out; whatever happens, he was going to fucking kill this thing.

With bated breath, he leaned in through the doorway. 

The inside looked to be falling apart, dripping with melted snow, yet still empty. Parker led with the rifle as he looked around, taking quiet, cautious steps. 

That’s when he heard it.

A low rumble, organic in nature, shaped by the erratic ebbs and flows of a shallowly breathing creature. Parker could feel its vibrations in his feet, and his blood ran cold. It was coming from the left corner. 

And that’s when Parker saw it.

A huge mass of black feathers, gathered up into the corner like a heavy shadow. Curled up onto a pile of damp hay, shivers traveled down its large body as it rose and fell with each rumbling breath. The flecks of gold in its feathers caught in the rectangles of light leaking through the dilapidated wood planks, glinting among the soaked blood. And finally, the wicked sharp talons, stained red and gathered close to its chest. 

Parker could hardly contain his rage as he drew closer to the creature, raising the rifle to aim right for the dark shape he could just make out as the thing’s head. 

There was a small click as Parker shifted his finger to rest on the trigger. 

Bright yellow eyes quickly fluttered open, and Parker startled, taking a step back with his hands tightening on the rifle.

His heart was thundering in his throat, but as he nearly moved to pull the trigger, he was hit with a realization that made his breath stop.

Parker knew those eyes.

They were the same ones he saw when he had first stared into the mirror all that time ago. They were the same ones that had gazed unfocused up at him when they had first woken up here, finally separated. They were the same ones that flashed across at him each morning, nestled in white sheets but with a crinkle of a content smile at their corners.

They were the same eyes that now drew in wild fear.

“...Jack???”

—

Jack had barely been lucid as he’d dragged himself to the old barn.

It was all a blur to him now as he lay shivering in the hay, eyes squeezed shut. The full-body ache as he had come to in the snow, the swish of a feathery tail behind him that his brain was lagging behind on how to use, his desperate clawing at the wooden doors as he found them, giving way quickly beneath the newfound power of his talons.

After that he had been in and out of consciousness for what felt like hours, the time stretching out under the haze of pain that made it a monumental task to do anything other than lay still and try to breathe. 

Jack knew he was… larger now. 

He had only realized it as he had tried to enter the barn, hitting his head against the top of the doorway and having to duck down to fit inside. It was barely warmer inside than out, and the place felt so small , as though the wooden walls were pressing right in on him, making it harder to breathe. The damp old hay pile in the corner had been the softest thing he could feel out, and some cruel part of his mind had distantly thought of a bird’s nest.

“You’re a smart birdie, aren’t you?”

Kayne’s grating words from all that time ago kept on coming back to him. Was this his doing? To take Jack’s deep desire and twist it in such a painful way would be just the type of thing he’d do. Jack half expected to hear that shrieking laugh at him now, that he would come to him once again to gloat over the irony of his situation, drink in his agony with that same malicious delight. He’d probably think it hilarious that he couldn't even fully grasp what had really been done to him.

And there he was, circled back to that same terrified thought again; what on Earth did he even look like?

It was now, more than ever, that Jack wished for his sight.

A small click of metal.

Jack tensed suddenly as he was yanked from his thoughts, the sound just in front of him. He could feel his feathers bristle as his heart thundered. 

Then, quiet, yet filled with complete shock, came the only voice Jack could possibly fear more than Kayne’s right now. 

“...Jack?”

Jack immediately drew back from Parker, pressing into the wall behind him as his breathing quickened. No, no, no, no, no, no-

“Jesus- Jack?” Jack could hear how he stumbled back from him through the dirt. “...Buddy, i-it’s me, what-”

A volatile tangle of terror and shame twisted in his chest, and through some firing of muscle memory he couldn’t fully comprehend yet, Jack’s tail lashed out in front of him, sweeping a wide arc through the dirt. Jack could hear Parker jump back with a startled yelp. A growl rumbled in his throat even as he felt tears prickling in his eyes.

“Leave… me… alone.”

His words came out rough as gravel and about five times louder than he expected them to. Shame immediately coursed through him again, and he turned his face away, ducking his head again and shutting his eyes.

The barn was quiet for a moment. 

“I-I’m not gonna hurt you, Jack, I promise.” Parker’s voice came slightly shaky, and it only made Jack curl in on himself more. Fucking hell, Parker was terrified of him-

“...I just wanna know, c-can you tell me what happened to you?”

Jack couldn’t do this. His mouth drew back in another growl as the tears welled up, and he gave a warning swipe with one talon that sent Parker stumbling out of the way again with a gasp. 

“Go… away…”

The barn went quiet again, save for the barely audible sounds of Parker’s breathing. 

Then, cautiously, a few footsteps backed away from him, seeming to idle for a long moment before they turned to quickly leave the barn. 

The silence settled, and Jack’s heart sank.

Both of them had fought so hard for this, this perfect, comfortable life together. And Jack had just ruined it.

He should have known it was too good to be true, that a thing like him could never truly be human, could never be loved as a human. It had all been an act, another deception to a man who didn’t deserve it one bit. But now Parker knew. The truth of what a monster Jack still was, laid out plain for him to see. All those promises of humanity. A fucking lie.

Jack’s eyes were burning now. He had to leave.

It was the only thing left for him to do now. He had to go far away, somewhere Parker would never have to lay eyes on him again.

Maybe his cursed wings could carry him there. 

Jack stood shakily, his head spinning as he tried to gain his balance. The stupid tail still felt so strange as it lashed behind him, but eventually he straightened up. Then, trying to call upon the memory of those dreams that had once given him comfort, he stretched out his wings-

Jack fell forward with a choked cry, the fire of excruciating pain down his back making his ears ring. He laid there, breathing heavily as it ebbed into a dull ache, like two large muscle cramps planted right into his upper back. Fuck.

Useless. Of course they were-

Jack hadn’t noticed the sound of the barn door. 

“Shit- easy, crackerjack! Don’t hurt yourself more-” Quick steps crossed the barn towards him, along with something sloshing and heavy set down hastily. Before he knew it, there was warmth at his side, and small hands gently touching him.  

Jack tensed, nearly lashing his tail out again but unable to summon the strength. 

“...Parker…” 

Even in his weak state, Jack’s voice still rumbled dangerously. Parker’s palms shifted slightly on his arm but didn’t lift away. 

“I’m not leaving you. I brought some stuff, we’ll get you cleaned right up. You look like you’ve been through hell, pip.” Parker’s voice was steady now, yet achingly soft. Jack couldn’t fucking believe it.

“...y’should. Leave…” 

Jack’s eyes were watering again, though he couldn’t tell if it was just from the pain anymore. Parker’s hands had started stroking gently down his arm, smoothing out his bristled feathers.

“I’m staying right here. Just as always. You know that, you bonehead.” However uneasy it may have been, Jack could hear the smile in his voice. And he finally gave in. He let himself go limp, releasing all the tension he had been holding for so long. It felt… better. Still hurt a lot, but better.

“There you are. Now just- relax for a bit, alright? I’ll get you taken care of.” Parker’s hands moved away, and Jack heard the sound of something being dunked in water, before feeling a warm soaked cloth pressing into his feathers. Compared to the chill of winter seeped into his very bones, it felt wonderful.

As his eyes lidded, Jack did his best to push away all his terrified thoughts, letting them melt away under Parker’s careful touch. And, for the first time in a while, Jack truly rested. 

-

Parker had saved a bird once.

Decades ago now, when Maggie had run up the porch yelling for Parker, cheeks rosy from the winter cold. “Pattycake! There’s a birdie stuck on the gate!” She couldn’t have been much older than seven.

It was a sparrow, and the poor thing’s little feet had frozen right onto the cold metal. It had flapped and thrashed around, desperate for escape. 

Young and stupid as he was, Parker had tried to grab it with his bare hand at first, and gotten a nasty bite that Maggie watched him vigorously scrub at the bathroom sink with eyes wide as dinner plates. He had returned with a worn wash towel to wrap the little creature in, and Maggie had watched closely from over his shoulder as he blew a few times on the metal bar, gradually thawing the frost with the warmth of his breath.

Parker still remembered the wild look in its eye as he held it in his hands for a moment, still all swaddled up. It had taken off quickly the moment he fully unwrapped the towel, not surprising. “He’ll come back again, we’re friends now.” Maggie had said, scuffing her tiny shoes as she tried to mirror the way Parker was leaning on the fence, gazing out into the overcast December sky with billowing breaths. 

He had ruffled her hair with his bandaged hand. “Maybe one day, Chickpea.”

The memory played in his head like an old film as he gently carded through feathers. Jack’s breathing had steadied to a soft rumble as Parker worked to carefully clean away the dried blood sticking to each vane. 

“Tell me if I’m hurtin’ you at all, alright?” A familiar low grunt of acknowledgement expelled any remaining doubts in Parker’s mind that this was his Jack.

The early sunlight was fully flooding into the dilapidated barn, and Parker could now see Jack’s new form more clearly. And by God was it a sight to behold.

Jack was now completely clad in black, the only spot of bare skin remaining being the crest of his face, the feathers forming a neat V going up the bridge of his nose to his eyebrows. What’s more was that there wasn’t just one pair of wings, but another seeming to sprout out right from either side of his head, in some odd replacement of ears. Parker had to wonder what sort of biological purpose they served, as at the moment they just seemed to fold over to cover Jack’s eyes as he rested. One look at the serrated talons that now formed his hands and feet and the long feathery tail had Parker completely overtaken by how painful this change must have been. Not to mention that Jack had somehow grown almost twice his normal size in a single night. No wonder he seemed so tuckered out now.

And none of that was even to speak of the wings. Parker had been avoiding touching them so far out of fear of hurting Jack further, but staring at them even when folded up had him in complete awe. He struggled to even shoot a guess at what the wingspan might be were they fully extended, as they looked massive even now. 

They were… beautiful.

The thought served to shake Parker back to reality for a moment. Just this morning he had been prepared to pull teeth in order to figure out what was going wrong between him and Jack, what secret he was keeping from him that was making them so distant. And now…?

“Jack, I…” Parker finished off the last section of flank feathers, and wrung out the washcloth slowly. “...How long has this been happening for?”

Jack tensed slightly, and Parker half expected him not to answer at all. Parker had quietly returned to tidying up the clean feathers when his voice gently rumbled.

“A week. I think.”

“A- what???” Parker couldn’t help raising his voice, and Jack flinched slightly, which made Parker feel just a bit guilty. But… fucking hell.

“Was only feathers at first. Most of it… happened tonight.” Jack added quietly. 

“How… Christ, Jack…” Parker just sat on the dusty floor for a moment with his arms resting on his knees, flabbergasted.

Jack seemed to consider.

 “...I think I was holding it off. The transformation. Until I… couldn’t.” He admitted that last part with a palpable shame that made him sound so small, even despite it all. Parker’s stomach flipped. 

He could tell that his next question was going to be difficult. 

“Jack… why didn’t you tell me?”

It hung in the stale air, and after a long moment, Parker saw Jack’s smaller wings shield over his eyes. 

“...dunno.”

“That’s not an answer.” Parker couldn’t stop himself from challenging, but he regretted it the moment he saw the way Jack’s talons were quivering. He breathed a heavy sigh, and reached out to lightly touch one of them. Jack flinched at first, but eventually relaxed.

“Look, I’m not angry with you, Jack. A little upset, maybe, but not angry. I’m more concerned that someone I care a whole lot about was really hurtin’, and didn’t think he could tell me.”

“...thought you would stop.” Jack’s voice came small again. 

“Stop… what..?” Parker trailed off.

“Caring. That this would be… it.” Jack shifted to sit upright, before curling his tail tightly around himself. His head was still tilted away from Parker, his wings completely obscuring his face.

“Because I’m still just a monster.”

There it all clicked. And Parker felt like such an idiot.

Parker turned, and saw the way Jack had shrunk in on himself, even at his great size. That familiar nervous tension in his shoulders was still there all the same.

Parker leaned over to cup his hands around Jack’s cheeks, and tilted his face towards his so that he could gaze right up into his eyes. 

“Jack,” He said thickly.

“You were never a monster.”

Jack turned his face slightly in Parker’s hands, as though trying to break an eye contact he couldn’t even hold. His brow furrowed and something tugged bitterly at his mouth.

“I am. I-”

“You are not.” Parker remained steady. “And you weren’t. You were just trying to find out who you really were-”

Jack’s talons suddenly closed around his wrists, and he let out a frustrated growl that made Parker flinch despite himself.

“You don’t get it! I wanted this, Parker.”  Jack retorted, the vibration of each word bore intensely into him. His wings flared out from either side of his face. “I chose this.”

Parker’s mouth went dry. The tips of Jack’s talons were digging into his skin. But Parker didn’t move away.

“...How?”

Jack’s grip softened slightly, but he didn’t let go. He wavered a moment before lowering both of their hands to lap-level. Something on his face seemed to tell Parker that that wasn’t the response he expected at all. His wings folded in again.

“I’ve been having this dream. I used to dream of the King, back when I still thought I was a part of him but… not anymore. It’s different now. Now it’s… wings.”

Parker was quiet. Then, he rubbed his thumb gently against Jack’s talons. 

“What do you mean, doll?” He gently asked.

“I mean that every night since we’ve been here, all I could dream about was flying away. And I wanted it so badly. Even if it meant not being… human.” Jack spoke the last sentence with the weight of a confessed sin. 

A chill wafted through the cold barn. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

“Now, what part of that was a choice you made?”

“...What?”

Parker rose to his feet with a grunt, cracking some of his joints as he stretched. “I mean, I just don’t see where in all of that you made the choice to painfully transform into a huge bird creature, pip.”

“But, I-” Jack started. 

“We all have dreams, Jack. Even about things we really, really want. It’s not a choice, it’s just part of being human.”

Jack’s tail lashed through the dirt. “But I’m not human, Parker. Look at me.”

Parker took Jack’s claws in his hands. Jack made a small, broken sound.

“You wanna know what I see, looker?” Parker couldn’t help his smirk as he watched Jack visibly flush, and the way his feathers puffed out was something he knew he’d come to love.

“I see Jack Dior. A person. The same person he always has been and always will be, no matter what.” Jack’s talons quivered in his hands as Parker’s voice was thick with fervor.

“...The prickly bastard I fell in love with.”

Jack snorted, and Parker finally broke, erupting into laughter. Jack soon joined in too, with a low chortle. Parker could feel Jack’s tail sweeping around him. 

Suddenly, there came a higher warbling sound, which snapped both of them out of it.

“What was that?” Parker gaped, quickly looking Jack up and down. His feathers had puffed out again, this time seemingly from embarrassment.

“I don’t- know what that was-”

“Do that again, dove!” Parker prodded at him a few times, jovial, and Jack batted him away lightly. 

“Parker-”

“C’mon, you know you wanna!” Parker teased, before burying his face into the soft down of Jack’s chest. Jack went stiff, and Parker could hear his heart thumping doubletime, which just made him smile wider. “You big sap, I should just use you as a huge fluffy pillow from now on, hm?” He nuzzled in a little deeper, half to fluster Jack further, half because, well, it just felt damn good. 

Parker could feel Jack’s arms settle around him, light at first, hesitant, but then gathering him close to his chest. They both swayed in place for a moment, and it was the most at peace Parker had felt in a while.

Then came a gentle vibration from Jack’s chest, and a quieter trilling sound filled the air. This one drew out for longer, and Parker could practically feel it in his bones. The giddiness returned, and Parker was laughing again.

“What?” Jack groused, unamused, though he still kept his chin resting comfortably atop Parker’s head.

“Nothing, dove, nothing at all.”

-

Sorting out Jack’s wings had turned out to be a monumental task. 

It had taken the better part of that afternoon for Parker to work his way through both of them, and clean the wounds on Jack’s back, which had been an entire ordeal of their own. The bizarre war between Jack’s human biology and his… undetermined biology made everything have some degree of guesswork. But it seemed like the skin was already starting to heal over where the wings had burst from, and Parker managed not to run completely out of gauze.

Parker didn’t mind the work when it came to the wings. He couldn’t quite contain his surprise at just how long they were, wingtips only just fitting within the confines of the barn. It had been rough at first, trying to coax Jack into keeping them spread out so he could massage the cramping muscles, but eventually he had melted into it as the pain began to subside, and Parker cleaned off all the blood and debris. Despite his apparent best efforts, Jack couldn’t help but make those trilling sounds again and again as Parker worked, feeling the gentle rumble of them through his fingers whenever Parker carded slowly through the lower rows of feathers to work out the blood. Parker felt some giddy victory at the thought of being able to pull those sounds out of Jack, though he wouldn’t dare say it to him. It already flustered him plenty. 

Sleeping in the house was out of the question, so Parker ended up gathering all of the blankets and pillows they had to form a makeshift nest in the barn on top of some laid out towels. He even dragged out the spare mattress, though the thing really functioned more like a large cushion to Jack now, his body far too long to fit comfortably on top of it. It wasn’t a perfect solution, as all the cracks and holes in the falling apart thing let in drafts throughout the night, but it would work for now. The cold wasn’t much of an issue for Parker anyway, as he found his new favorite thing was to sleep curled up on Jack’s chest. The down was always warm and soft, and Jack would drape his wings protectively around both of them, shielding away most of the cold air.

It was as Parker was working one morning trying to nail in some planks over one of the rotted away holes in the wall that Jack had brought the idea up.

“...Parker?” Jack was resting in the pillow nest, idly tidying some of the feathers under his wing. 

“Hm?” Parker grunted through the nails he held in his mouth as he moved the plank into place.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to try.”

“n’wussat?” He answered as he plucked one of them from his mouth and started to line it up.

Jack seemed to hesitate, and it was as Parker was about to drive it in that he spoke.

“...I want to try… flying.”

Parker missed his swing, catching the side of his thumb, and yelped, cursing as the nails fell to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye Jack tensed. 

“Shit- I- sorry. Fuck.” Parker hissed, shaking out his thrumming hand as he set down the hammer. 

But his head was spinning. Jack really wanted to…

“...Sorry.” Jack piped up quietly, and Parker felt a surge of guilt. 

“No, no! Of course- I-I mean, you oughta put those things to good use, right? And not just as my blanket, y’know?” Parker gave an awkward chuckle, trying his best to reassure not just Jack, but himself too.

“You think so?” Jack answered skeptically, though Parker could see the way his wings perked up a bit. His leg was bouncing, too.

God. Jack really wanted this. 

“Yeah, I- uh, don’t see why not? Can’t imagine living with those without at least trying once.” Parker smiled, but kept his unease hidden. He didn’t really understand it. Of course Jack would want this. So why did it make Parker so afraid?

As he looked up at the crest of  Jack’s face towering above him, he couldn’t help but think of that little sparrow from all those winters ago. The shine of its wild black eye looking up at him.

Jack’s eyes looked full of conflict, but they shined with a subdued curiosity. 

Parker found himself reaching out for one of Jack’s talons. He made a startled little noise.

“You just… you gotta promise me one thing, crackerjack.” Parker said, the words thick in his throat.

Jack gazed down at him, slightly off-target, but listening raptly as always with those big golden eyes that always held so much. God, Parker loved this man.

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

Jack’s grip tightened, his talon tips pressing lightly into Parker’s skin. Never enough to draw blood, never enough to hurt.

“Of course.”

—

The sky was clear the day Jack flew.

No amount of preparation, no amount of training sessions, no amount of talking through safety plans, could have prepared Parker for the feeling he got when he watched Jack lift from the ground that day.

The thrust of his glittering wings blew back the grass of the field around him, it tousled Parker’s hair from where he stood a good distance away, and Parker had to shield his eyes from all the kicked up debris.

When he peeked back out from under his arms, he could see the dark shape of Jack, stark against the robin’s egg sky like those barnstorming planes he had once witnessed in his youth. He could still see the lines of his back, the powerful muscles working to carry him up and up… further and further…

Parker thought of the sparrow’s shape growing smaller and smaller, vanishing away into the gray clouds.

Jack tilted his head, as though to look back.

And then he turned to loop around.

Parker released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and couldn’t squash down the huge smile spreading across his face as he watched Jack glide over the sleeted fields, growing larger and larger as he came closer. 

“Down here, firecracker!” Parker cupped his hands around his mouth to yell as loud as he could, just like they had practiced. He watched Jack’s wings tilt little by little to adjust his path, until he could practically see the light crest of his beaming face. 

Jack’s wings flared out like two great sails, fluttering as he slowed down to a low enough glide for his talons to catch the ground.

And fear had only thought to enter Parker’s brain just a millisecond before Jack completely barrelled into him, and they both were sent rolling through the tall grass. Parker shouted amid the tumbling tangle of limbs and wings and feathers, and before he knew it Jack was sprawled next to him, laughing hysterically with tears forming at the corners of his eyes. A deep rumbling trill sounded beneath it. 

“Jack-” Parker gasped, out of breath, soaked in melted snow, and definitely bruised in a few places, turning over to face him and slap his arm. “You clumsy bastard, you-”

Before he could even finish his thought Jack had yanked him into a hug, chest to chest, happy warbles vibrating between. And all the words flew straight from his head.

“I did it, Parks, I did it-” Jack was rambling amid chortled laughter, the tears rolling down his cheeks now, but his grin still just as wide as his wingspan. It was a sight enough to take Parker’s breath away.

Parker pushed himself up above Jack, face just inches away from his, and grinned. “So that’s what it takes for me to get a nickname out of you?” Then he chuckled, and breathed a sigh. 

“You came back.” He said thickly.

“Of course I did.” Jack was absolutely beaming up at him. “Idiot.” He added as a playful bite.

Well, now Parker just had to shut him up.

So he leaned down to meet him with a swift kiss.

Parker almost started laughing as Jack’s wings fluffed up suddenly, and he made a small noise of surprise into his mouth. Then, moving to cradle Parker’s head with his claws, he deepened it with a smile.