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Everything was going fine. Solo was successfully paying attention to what his partner was talking about, nodding along in affirmation of the plan.
Then they crossed a bridge.
And the sparkling, sugar-soft snow that was still falling was just– it made his feathers itch like his fingers did when they passed something valuable. Solo paused at the edge of the little overpass, little more than decorative, and without any railings.
“Are you listening?” Illya huffed, his great gray wings bristling with annoyance.
“Yeah, yeah, I'm listening, sorry, I–” Solo worked his jaw and attempted to tear his eyes away from the pile of invitingly soft snow. But it was so pretty. “Actually, will you give me a minute?”
“What?”
But Solo was already loosening his tie and shedding his jacket. He stretched out his jet black wings and took a step off of the bridge, letting himself fall into the perfect, cool, fluffy snow. His wings beat happily, tossing particles of ice into the air and pulling a satisfied laugh from his throat. The raven-type tendencies took control and he tucked his wings against his back and rolled a little further down the hill. When he stopped, he sat back on his heels and shook the snow from his feathers, sighing contentedly. When he met Illya's gaze again, he flushed deeply.
His partner was staring at him with a mix of horror and disbelief, his jaw agape and the down on the bends of his wings completely fluffed up. “Cowboy,” he eased, “What was that?”
“Uh,” Solo swallowed hard, still a little breathless, “I'm a raven-type.”
“That is not explanation.”
“Ravens….like to play in the snow?” he supplied, averting his eyes, “I used to do it a lot as a kid. Sometimes I can't ignore the urges. I’m….usually alone when that happens.”
“You don't get….cold?” Illya's voice held a more interested note to it, which drew Solo's eyes back to his. His cheeks were a little pinker than when he looked away.
“Sometimes,” he pushed himself to his feet and collected his jacket from the bridge, dusting it free from the snow that had fallen on it. He maneuvered his wings through the slits in the back, then threaded his arms through the sleeves, zipping it all the way up. “Layering helps keep me warm.”
On cue, he shivered, the frigid dampness finally setting in. Illya took a hesitant step forward and unwound the scarf from around his neck, draping it around Solo's. It was warm and smelled like him, and a soft warbling trilled from his chest against his will.
“Layer better next time,” Illya chided, turning to continue their walk.
Solo stood stunned for a moment, then wrapped the scarf around him better, drinking in his partner's intoxicating scent. The warbling started up again, but Solo cleared his throat to hide it.
Illya would not be getting his scarf back.