Work Text:
Insert. Yarn over. Pull. Yarn over. Pull.
Next stitch.
Insert. Yarn over. Pull. Yarn over. Pull.
Next stitch.
The movements came naturally, almost as if by second nature. At this point, they were. Scott didn’t even have to focus on the motions as he continued to crochet down the line.
It was only a simple single crochet stitch; anyone could do it with some patience! He was well acquainted with it. He had taught his boyfriends the basics before, some of them with a shorter fuse than others.
Still, despite its simplicity, Scott enjoyed it. He found comfort in the routine action, maneuvering the hook he held like a knife as he focused on the feeling of the electric green yarn against his fingers.
Scott had selected that yarn to make something for Martyn, knowing that it was his favorite color. What was he making at the moment? Scott wasn’t sure, but hopefully whatever it was lit Martyn’s face up in surprise as he filled his processing time with an interested, drawn-out “ohhh?”
Insert. Yarn over. Pull. Yarn over. Pull.
Next stitch.
Insert. Yarn over. Pull.
Scott was going to continue the stitch, but he was interrupted by someone’s hand being placed over his work. His head snapped up in an instant, prepared to tell off whoever had interrupted him. Scott opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Any words to be said died in his throat with no chance of ever making their way to his lips.
His vision was blurred over with tears to the point he couldn’t make out much of anything. Everything was splotchy, his nose felt runny, and his ears were ringing something fierce. Scott’s crochet work had been relying on muscle memory and touch instead of sight.
Someone was trying to talk to him, but he couldn’t make that out either. They sounded distant, like someone trying to scream for help from a coffin buried six feet under.
Scott just had to keep going. Keep stitching. He had to be useful, even if it was in a small way such as this.
Yarn over. Pull.
Scott made the motions, but the hook and the yarn were gone. In place of his crocheting materials were hands. The hands sported fingerless gloves and callused fingertips, hard and rough from his work with redstone.
Tango.
A sob sputtered from his lips as he hunched forward and squeezed his eyes shut. Scott didn’t have to look at himself to know that his eyes were bloodshot, his face was flushed an unfortunate red, and his blue hair was sticking to his face from the anxiety-induced sweat that drenched his body.
The talking continued around him, Scott’s head clearing enough to pinpoint three different voices. The one he had focused in on first was the same one who pinched his nose with a tissue. Scott couldn’t quite make out the words, but it sounded like he was instructing him to blow. The feeling of excess snot didn’t feel very great, nor did it look very attractive, to say the least, so Scott did as he was told.
Scott was met with what sounded like praise over the continued ringing in his ears and warping feeling in his head. The one praising him must have walked away because his voice grew more distant.
Tango removed his hands from Scott’s hold, which Scott tried to protest. The texture of Tango’s hands wasn’t the same as the yarn and hook had been, but it was an accepted alternative. Scott wasn’t given much time to wallow in that removal of comfort because the smooth texture that was cool to the touch was pressed against his palms.
Hands, softer but larger than Tango’s had been, encouraged his fingers to curl around the glass. Scott obeyed, clasping the cup with as much might as he could muster. The same hands guided the cup upwards until the rim of the glass slipped between his lips.
Jimmy.
Scott allowed Jimmy to guide him, tipping the glass up to allow the water to flow into his mouth. The cool liquid wet his parched lips and mouth, triggering a desperate thirst within him. With each gulp, strength seemed to return to him, and he no longer needed assistance.
However, in his eagerness, he swallowed the water too quickly, his body unable to keep up. Scott choked on the liquid, his throat burning in retaliation as he doubled over in a fit of coughing.
Inadvertently, he spat out some water droplets, staining his already tear-stained pants. It was only then that he realized how dry his mouth and throat had been; the relief of the water was akin to the long-awaited rain in a desert.
Tango’s calloused hands brushed against his once more, but they only stayed long enough to take the glass from him. With his hands now free, Scott used his sleeve to try and dry his face of the tears that still trailed down his cheeks. They were slower than before, but still there.
An arm slipped under his knees while the other moved to support his back. Before Scott knew it, he was being picked up, bridal style. The person’s arms were muscular, in a way Scott was familiar with from being held in them before, and he smelled distinctly of sweat, pine, and cotton. With Scott’s head pressed against his carrier’s chest, he could hear the soft sound of a heartbeat that seemed to convince the ringing to quiet.
Martyn.
Scott could feel the rumbling in Martyn’s chest as he spoke. Martyn muttered reassurances in a low tone, allowing Scott to recognize that he was the one who had praised him earlier. A warmth spread throughout his limbs when he realized that, relishing the praise. Scott had expressed to his boyfriends that he liked being told kind words like this, so it always brought a smile to his lips when they expressed their positive viewpoints of him to his face.
His body felt heavy, too exhausted from the hours of sobbing. Scott had cried for so long that he wasn’t even sure why he had started. Knowing him, it was some mild inconvenience that pushed him over the edge. His tendency to bottle emotions up until the dam broke was not the most healthy, but it was what he knew.
Scott buried his face into Martyn’s chest, hands clenching the fabric of his electric green shirt. His favorite color. Yarn. Scott was crocheting. Where had his yarn and hooks gone?
“I was making you a gift,” Scott croaked to his boyfriend. He blinked rapidly, his vision gradually clearing up. He could hear Tango and Jimmy talk, but they were still too distant to make out what they were saying.
“What you were making was knot soup with your tears as broth and your pants as the bowl,” Martyn snorted his attempt at a joke. Scott didn’t think it was very funny, and it must have shown on his face for Martyn quickly moved on, “You can finish it later when you feel better.”
“I’m fine ,” Scott insisted, though it was clear he was not.
Martyn raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hold back a scoff. “Why are you crying then?”
“‘Cause I’m a pretty crier,” Scott gave the excuse, knowing it was far from the current truth. His cries were only pretty when they were light and controlled. This was anything but that. Dams breaking were so catastrophic for a reason, after all. When a dam broke, water flooded out without much hope of stopping it. The havoc it unleashed was wretched and ugly, just like his emotions’ effect on his body now. Why do they even put up with me?
The thought came and went, common during moods like this. Scott liked to think he was confident enough in his relationships to not think that way, and most of the time he was, but he wasn’t feeling overly confident recently. He wasn’t feeling much like himself, but he was getting there. The overwhelming dread and pain were decreasing with each word and touch from his boyfriends.
Scott loved his boyfriends with his whole being, finding bliss in the fact he was able to call them each his. He could recall the times he’d fondly teased Jimmy as they created flower crowns as if it were yesterday. Scott still had the shell tucked away someplace safe that Martyn had given him as his prize for completing a dare. It had only been a few days since he and Tango had gone through an obstacle course together on horseback.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Scott.” Martyn sounded almost disappointed in Scott’s blatant lie as he set him down on their shared bed. It was large enough for four people, complete with enough pillows and blankets for them to create a plushy nest out of if they so desired.
He bit his tongue, hesitating to respond. Scott averted his eyes away from Martyn, submitting himself to silence once more. He only looked up when he noticed his other boyfriends entering the room.
Jimmy gave Scott his usual awkward but charming smile, golden wings pressed firmly against his back. “Do you want to talk about what's bothering you, petal?”
Tango took a position on the bed next to Scott, placing his fingerless gloved hand on Scott’s thigh. “You know we’re here to listen, yeah?”
“Our three sets of ears gotta be useful for something.” Martyn’s comment was rewarded with chuckles from Tango and Jimmy. The ends of Scott’s lips twitched up in response and Martyn flashed a grin at him in return, clearly pleased with himself for getting a smile out of Scott.
Scott glanced between his boyfriends, feeling the pressure in his chest tighten before it eased as he took in the situation. They were all gathered here because of him. It wasn’t in a negative way, either. It wasn’t because he was a nuisance or because he was making them somehow No! They were here because they cared. They cared about him as he cared about them.
He took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He would be okay with them by his side. “I just got overwhelmed with everything.”
“I wonder who could have predicted that,” Martyn muttered with a mildly sarcastic edge. He stepped forward to brush Scott’s bangs out of his face. Scott peered up at him as Martyn leaned toward him to press a kiss on his forehead.
“I know, I know,” Scott admitted with a sigh. Martyn’s kiss left a soft buzz of electricity, sparking like little lightning bugs fluttering around inside him. “I should have listened when you told me to take a break.”
“Now you know to listen to us next time.” Jimmy climbed into bed from behind Scott and found a position under the blankets. He gently tugged on Scott’s arm, wanting Scott to come closer to him. “If you agree to that, I’ll give you cuddles.”
“I think you will give me cuddles either way,” Scott giggled, not being able to help himself as he fulfilled Jimmy’s request. He crawled further down the bed until he was by Jimmy’s side. Scott snuggled against his avian boyfriend, who promptly wrapped his arm and left wing around him. Jimmy’s right wing laid limply off the side of the bed, resting comfortably.
“I’ll double-icate that, adding to the cuddle pile if you agree,” Tango offered, already moving to Scott’s free side. Jimmy's wing uncurled from around Scott's shoulder, allowing Tango to gain contact with Scott's body while Jimmy draped his wing around Tango.
Scott shook his head, but that wasn’t meant to be taken as declining the deal. “You’re impossible. Both of you.”
“I like to think I’m rather impossible too,” Martyn chimed in as Tango settled in by Scott.
“Fine, I agree to the deal.” Scott would try, not only for them but for himself. “Just get in here.”
Martyn didn’t need any more convincing, joining the other three in their shared bed. The sound of a drawer opening and closing came from the right moments before the television mounted on the wall across from their bed flicked on. Martyn used the remote to navigate to one of the shows they were watching, a sitcom based on the laugh track, but Scott didn’t pay much attention.
Scott was simply content with the close proximity to the three men he loved the most: Tango, Jimmy, and Martyn.