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As much as James would love to ignore the elephant in the room and just let his confusing feelings fester, he does have to admit that Poke is actually pretty important to him.
They're friends, after all, best friends. The kind of best friend that drives you crazy and you just want to smack upside the head occasionally but you'd never be able to live without.
But Poke's also the kind of best friend that keeps you up at night for hours just staring up at the ceiling and thinking and James doesn't like that. The kind of best friend you have to think a little too hard about how you'd describe what you are to them if forced.
The kind of best friend where you probably have to eventually have the "what are we" talk, but James thinks he'd rather set himself on fire than do that, to be honest.
In his mind, he tries to pinpoint the moment when he stopped thinking of Poke as just "a friend". He can't figure it out. His brain is mush and it's just a jumbled mess of half-remembered teenage shenanigans and intentionally sabotaged PVP games and nights spent contemplating these exact same questions for the hundredth, maybe the thousandth time.
He doesn't sleep that night. (He never does on these nights.)
He folds his wings around himself tightly and hopes that his brain just stops working entirely so he doesn't have to think about this shit anymore.
A childhood memory plays in his mind. A younger version of him, maybe around 14 or so, is playing some stupid game with Poke he can't remember the name of.
Not that it really matters.
"Your hair's a lot shorter than usual, ------," the younger Poke says with a curiously tilted head.
(James winces at the memory, at the name he hasn't heard in years. But he tries to just ignore it.)
"I'm trying something new," memory-James replies. (Jesus christ, did he really sound like that?)
"It looks good on you," Poke grins at him. His tone is genuine, none of their usual back and forth snark.
(James remembers feeling a little flustered by that comment.)
"Really?" James replies, his voice cracking a little bit. "I dunno, but I kinda like that it makes me look like a boy." He straightens out his feathers a bit.
"Well, I think you'd be a cool boy," Poke hums thoughtfully. "If you wanted to be."
(He's grateful for this memory. He wonders what his life would be like if this moment hadn't happened. He kind of wishes he could properly thank Poke for it, but that'd just be weird.)
"Dude, I need your help to get back at Cooper," Poke practically whines as he stands in James's doorway.
"That's your problem," James replies immediately. He flicks his wings in annoyance, almost like he's shooing Poke away. "Deal with it yourself. I dunno what the hell you did, man, but I want no part in it."
"You scared of Cooper?" Poke snorts, failing to contain his laughter. "Fish boy? You scared of fish boy, James? Is that it?"
James has to resist the urge to smack him. It's very difficult. He's really fucking good at getting on his nerves, he swears.
"No, I just don't want to have to fix your fuckin' mess, you dickhead," he retorts.
"Yeah, whatever, pussy," Poke replies with a smug grin, unphased by this. "Suck my dick, man." If James had to guess, Poke expected this answer all along and really just came here to piss him off.
"Don't threaten me with a good time," he shoots back in his usual smug manner as he stretches, wings fanning out behind him.
This is too intimate, this sucks, James thinks to himself.
And yet he lets Poke fiddle with his wings anyways, straightening out the crooked feathers that had been driving him batty for god knows how long. The alien's touch is surprisingly careful, as if he's studying each feather of James's wings.
James is lying on his stomach on the floor of his base, wings spread out so far that they're practically twice the size of his body. Poke sits criss-cross beside him, with one wing awkwardly laying across his lap as he works on it.
James lets out an involuntary little chirp. Holy fuck that's embarrassing. He tries to avoid drawing attention to it, but he can hear Poke stifling a small giggle. He shoots a death glare back at him, which just gets ignored.
"Your wings are really soft, y'know," Poke mumbles as he works, not looking up. "Not in like- I don't mean that in like, a weird way, just..."
James raises an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't say anything. He's admittedly enjoying himself too much to bitch at Poke.
He yawns loudly, stretching in his spot, trying not to move too much and mess up Poke's preening.
"Michael, I need help," James blurts out, panic suddenly overtaking him as his thoughts continue to fester and bubble up.
He came here on a hit, but he can't focus when his mind is running a million miles an hour, and Michael's the only sane person on this server anyways. Old bastard.
Michael's sitting on a bench outside his Olive Garden, probably taking a break from working on building it up. James almost feels bad for bothering him. Almost. He seats himself next to Michael without bothering to ask permission.
Michael raises an eyebrow at him. "...With?" He asks expectantly, waiting for James to go on.
"I think I might be in love with Poke," the avian says, stumbling over his words due to him trying to hurry the thought out of his head. It doesn't come out too garbled, at least. "I dunno, I-"
He hates this, he hates this so much, he has no idea how to deal with this shit. His ear-wings instinctively fan out to cover his face, feeling a burning embarrassment creep over him. "I don't fucking know," he mumbles, barely audible enough for Michael to pick up.
The realization is really starting to sink in now that he's said it out loud, and it scares the shit out of him. His brain's already shifting gears into panic mode and he has to mentally bolt himself down so he doesn't jump into flight and rush off to go hide in the middle of wherever the fuck nowhere.
"Okay, calm the fuck down," Michael sighs, awkwardly patting James's shoulder as some kind of supportive gesture. "You don't need to have a fuckin' aneurysm over it."
"I don't know how to handle this shit, bro!" James shoots back, voice cracking slightly with audible distress. "I don't know what the fuck to- What the hell do I even do with this, Michael?"
He grumbles something inaudible, folding his wings around himself tightly before he continues properly. "I've known him for god knows how many years, I can't just-"
"You're scared of fucking with the status quo?" Michael offers, humming thoughtfully. "Like, you two practically share a single brain cell," he laughs a little under his breath, "so thinking of him like that freaks you out. Because it's different."
"They're the same thoughts I've had all this time," James says, fidgeting nervously in place, "I just, I didn't fuckin'- Like- Process that shit, man, I-" His breathing is sharp and shallow, voice seeming to catch and die in his throat, unable to properly word his racing thoughts.
"Well," Michael says, pausing to think for a moment, "you gotta talk to him about it eventually. It's not gonna do you any good to keep bottling that up."
"No shit, dude," James scoffs back, rolling his eyes. His wings slowly unfold themselves as he calms down a little. "Ugh, I know."
"If it helps, I seriously doubt it can go that bad." Michael laughs quietly. "I mean, this is Poke we're talking about."
"It's raining," James announces in a tired deadpan.
"Yeah?" Poke laughs, tilting his head a little. "What about it, man?"
"I can't go out in the rain," James replies with an annoyed huff, "my wings get weighed down by the water and makes it so I can't fly."
Poke hums in acknowledgment, glancing out the window at the downpour. It's... Pretty bad, to be honest. "Doesn't look like it's lightening up anytime soon," he says. He turns his attention back to the avian, giving him a sympathetic look. "You know you can always crash here, I don't mind."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," James sighs. "It's just fuckin' annoying, dude."
"You'll live," Poke laughs, standing up. "You want something to eat? I can make something."
James shakes his head. "Naw, bro, I'm good." He fidgets awkwardly where he's sitting, not sure what else to say. There's a nagging thought in the back of his mind, but he ignores it.
"Suit yourself, but I'm hungry," Poke replies as he heads towards the kitchen. He stops and then turns back to look at James for a second. "Oh, hey, almost forgot to mention - there's only one bed here, so you're gonna have to put up with sharing."
James's heart skips a beat and he coughs, quickly looking away as he tries to stay calm. "Uh, yeah, I mean, that's... Fine, haha." (Oh jesus fucking christ, why this? Does the universe just hate his ass or something?)
(...He's awkward and silent for the rest of the night.)
"Hey, Michael, can I ask your advice on something?" Poke asks, watching as he works on his Olive Garden.
"Yes, he feels the same," Michael replies without waiting for Poke to explain. (He doesn't even bother to look up from what he's doing, actually.)
Poke stares at him dumbfounded for a few moments. "How did you know what I was gonna ask about?" He manages to ask once his brain starts actually functioning again.
Michael turns to him and looks at him with a deadpan expression. "I'm the only person on this server you freaks ever come to with your problems," he says. "I'm like half therapist and half babysitter."
"If it makes you feel any better, I was gonna go to Angel for help first," Poke says, "but unlike you, she's not afraid to tell me to go fuck myself, so..."
"Hey!" Michael snaps, shooting a glare in the alien's general direction. "I'm not that much of a pushover!"
Poke ignores him entirely. "Are you sure about what you said? I mean..." He makes a vague gesture with his hands. "I dunno, James always seemed like the kinda distant type."
"He's distant because he doesn't know how to process his thoughts," Michael responds. "God, you two have to be some of the most dense people I've ever fuckin' met."
"Fuck off, old man," comes the immediate reply.
Michael snorts. "If you aren't gonna listen to me, why the hell did you even come to me for advice in the first place?" He shakes his head. "Anyways, I'd just talk to him about it. I have the idea he's not going to be the one to bring it up."
"Hey, we need to talk-"
"I have something to t-"
(Oh. Well. That's...)
Poke immediately bursts into laughter at the overlap, unable to contain his amusement. "Oh man, we really do share a brain cell, huh?"
"Uh," James awkwardly replies with a quiet laugh of his own, "I mean, I guess that depends on what you wanted to talk to me about, dude..."
"You go first," Poke gives him a goofy, mischievous grin.
"No, dude, you go first!" James snaps back, voice clearly tinged with anxiety. His head-wings flutter a bit.
"Naw, bro, you should definitely go first," Poke continues before he's suddenly interrupted.
"I think I'm in love with you," James says quickly, looking down at the ground.
"That's what I- Wait, what?" Poke's dumbfounded into silence for a few moments, before he manages to continue. "Wait, so Michael wasn't just messing with me?"
It's James's turn to break into a fit of laughter. "Holy shit, Poke, you're so dumb," he gets out between his laughs, shaking his head. "Oh my god."
"Stop laughing at me, you dick!" Poke retorts, but he's brought into the giggle-fest himself and he can't continue his complaints through his own laughter.
"Why the hell would you assume that?" James asks after he manages to catch his breath, finally looking up at Poke.
"I dunno, man, I thought, oh, Michael's finally had enough of me and is getting revenge on me for my crimes!" Poke shakes his head, still laughing.
"You're a moron," the avian responds.
"Yeah, I know," Poke says back, grinning at him again. "But, uh, back to what you were saying?"
"Uh, right, yeah," James mumbles, wings unfolding to stretch. "I dunno. I've been bottling that up for a while. Mainly because I haven't been able to figure out for myself when my feelings changed. If they even changed at all."
"Are all avians this flighty, or is that just a you thing?" Poke wonders out loud.
"You shut your mouth," James quickly replies. "This is embarrassing, I don't like- Being vulnerable like this."
"Sorry!" Poke laughs again, rolling his eyes. He places a hand on James's shoulder, which makes the avian flinch slightly, but he doesn't push his hand away.
"I think I've always liked you, if I'm being completely honest," Poke continues. "I dunno, I remember when you first cut your hair short, I remember thinking, okay, he looks really good like that. And that thought kinda confused me but I just rolled with it."
"Huh, really?" James seems almost embarrassed by this, face flushing a little.
"Yeah!" Poke says. "And like... When you came out, it was like... Kind of weird, because the way I thought of you never changed? Like, I'd always just seen you as one of the guys, but also, weirdly something else at the same time? Something I couldn't ever quite figure out."
James nods in acknowledgment, waiting for Poke to continue.
"I think," Poke goes on, "I think it wasn't until I realized I was bi that I figured out what that something else was. It kind of clicked in my brain and I was like 'oh fuck, that's what that is'." He laughs awkwardly. "But I couldn't tell you that, 'cause you're like... Very reserved? Emotionally speaking. So it felt weird."
"Sorry," James mumbles, looking a little guilty. "I just dunno how to deal with my own feelings, I guess."
"Naw, don't say sorry," Poke shakes his head, softly shoving the avian's shoulder. "It's just how you are, it's alright."
"I think I'm pretty much the same," James says. "Like, as you were saying, I mean. I don't fuckin' know, man, this sappy shit is gay and stupid." He chuckles.
"Auh, you're gay and stupid," Poke cackles, giving the avian a goofy smile. "We're both gay and stupid."
They just awkwardly stare at each other for a bit before Poke speaks up again.
"Oh, hey, wait, can I-" He puts his hand on James's face, looking at him curiously.
"Can you wha- Oh. Uh-" James stammers, not sure how to respond. "Uh, yeah, go for it, I mean..."
Poke tugs his mask down and leans in, softly pressing their lips together, his hand cupping the avian's cheek. It's not long, he pulls back a few moments later, clearly nervous.
He looks away, clearing his throat. "That was weird."
"Definitely weird," James mumbles in agreement. He looks back over at Poke and laughs quietly. "But uh, I liked it."
Poke meets his gaze and smiles. "Cool," he nods. "Me too."
A few more awkward beats of silence.
"...You wanna go blow up Michael's stupid Olive Garden?" James finally says, his usual mischievous deadpan returning.
Poke breaks into giggles.
"What do you think, dumbass?"