Chapter Text
Quentin glowered at Josh and Drake as he stomped back towards them; they’d fallen asleep on the return trip.
”Wake up!” Quentin shouted, shaking the two of them and unbuckling them from their seats. “I’ve gotta clean up, so get out!”
Josh stumbled from his seat and Drake followed suit, but took a step too many and fell out of the helicopter; Josh quickly heaved him to his feet and led him away.
”Watch out,” Josh said. “Think I saw a murder hornet in the chopper or somethin’.”
”Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Quentin snapped. “Get going, and don’t be late tomorrow, no matter how bad you’re hungover!”
With a grumble and shake of his head he went about cleaning up.
”Hey, Quentin,” Liam called, rapping on the side of the copter. “Think Josh was right. Thought I saw a hornet er somethin’ in there too. It was buzzin’ around the cockpit.”
Quentin sighed and nodded.
”Thanks, man, I’ll keep an eye out.”
Liam waved a hand and walked off.
The lights had gone down by the time Quentin finished up.
He was about to hop out of the helicopter when movement up near the cockpit caught his attention; listening faintly he could hear the buzz of wings.
”Damn thing,” Quentin muttered, slowly approaching the cockpit to see something flitting around by the windshield.
It halted when he entered the cockpit, then began frantically zipping around.
Quentin approached and got a closer look at the odd bug, noting the long green wings.
Without warning the bug slammed into Quentin’s head and he stumbled a bit, then ducked when it dove again.
”Knock it off!” Quentin shouted, waving a hand and trying to smack the bug, but he missed.
The bug dove at him a couple more times, just barely dodging when Quentin swiped a hand at it.
The next time it dove Quentin felt a sharp pinch in his neck.
”That’s it,” Quentin growled, carefully watching the bug as it dove again; finally he managed to smack it, sending it flying towards the cockpit.
There was a thump and a faint squeak.
Letting out a breath, Quentin cautiously approached the cockpit and stared at the bug.
He blinked, then narrowed his eyes as he got a closer look, finally realizing that it wasn’t a hornet.
Lying on the dash was a tiny humanoid with green dragonfly-like wings and it was currently struggling to get up.
”What are you?” Quentin asked incredulously, his eyes widening.
The creature looked weakly up at him, its arms shaking, then collapsed.
Quentin poked it a couple times and waited; when it didn’t move he scooped it into his hand and brought it closer for examination.
”Are you dead?” he muttered.
Quentin squinted and could just see the creature’s little chest rising and falling under the long red shirt it wore.
“Still alive, whatever you are…” he muttered, noticing a bit of blood on its head.
The creature gave a faint whimper, then looked up at Quentin with wide eyes. Quentin stared back, jumping when it fluttered its wings and sprang into the air, but didn’t get far; Quentin just barely caught it when it dropped like a rock.
He hesitated a moment, studying it.
The green wings had darker green spots that were slightly iridescent; two antennae on its head were currently drooped.
It was breathing heavily and trembling; biting his lip, Quentin lightly put a finger on its chest and felt a tiny heartbeat.
“Can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Quentin wrapped the unconscious creature in his handkerchief and slipped it into his pocket, then quickly locked up and headed for home.
A shoebox with a hand towel was serving as a passable bed for the creature at the moment.
Quentin was carefully dabbing at the thing’s head with a wet paper towel.
With a sigh he got the smallest bandage in the first-aid kit he could find and dried the cut, then put the bandage over it.
Quentin brought the thing closer to see its chest was rising and falling, but not as rapidly as before.
With a shake of his head Quentin put it back in the shoebox and took the first-aid kit back to the bathroom.
A faint scratching noise caught his attention and he hurried back into his bedroom to see the thing scrabbling as it tried to climb out of the shoebox.
”Cut that out,” Quentin said, startling it into falling back into the box. “You shouldn’t go anywhere like that.”
The creature backed away and curled up, both hands holding its stomach.
”You need food?” Quentin asked, causing the creature to look up at him hopefully. “Fine, I’ll see what I can get.”
He got some granola and water from the kitchen, putting them in two separate bowls, then went back and put them in the shoebox.
”There. Try that.”
Quentin waited, but the creature just sat there shivering as it watched him.
”It’s fine,” Quentin said, taking a cluster of granola and eating it. “Go on.”
The thing still just watched him; finally Quentin sat on his bed.
He stayed there for a minute or two and heard shuffling, then faint crunching noises.
”You like it?” he asked, still hearing the thing crunching away at the granola.
The crunching noises suddenly stopped and a tiny head peeked up over the edge of the box.
”So what are you?” Quentin asked. “I don’t want to say you’re a fairy, but you don’t look like anything else…even though you shouldn’t exist.”
The fairy blinked and kept watching him, antennae twitching every so often.
”Well, you seem fine,” Quentin sighed. “I’m beat, so I’m going to bed.”
He kicked off his boots and uniform, then wearily brushed his teeth and flopped into bed, listening for any movement from the creature.
After a while of not hearing anything, Quentin finally dropped off to sleep.
Sunlight streaming through the window brought Quentin awake.
He rolled over with a grumble, then lay there for a moment before the previous night’s events came back to him.
”…dreamt it,” he muttered, rolling over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Had to have dreamt it.”
He trudged past his desk and frowned when he saw the shoebox was on it.
”Why’d I put that there?” Quentin yawned, glancing inside.
His eyes widened when he saw the green-winged creature curled up inside his handkerchief and fast asleep.
Quentin shook his head, then nudged the fairy in the side; it stirred and rolled over, blinking sleepily up at him.
”Welp, guess you’re real,” Quentin mumbled as the fairy yawned and sat up. “Looks like you were hungry. Want more?”
The fairy nodded eagerly as Quentin picked up the empty bowl.
”Alright…I don’t believe this,” Quentin grumbled, heading for the kitchen.
A squeak drew his attention.
”What?”
The fairy was lifting its arms.
”You want to come?”
It nodded.
Quentin slowly reached for it and it climbed into his hand after a moment.
“Now don’t you bite me again,” Quentin warned. “Don’t wanna catch anything from you. Just sit there.”
He put the fairy on the counter and got the box of granola, shaking some into a small bowl.
The fairy dove into the granola with a squeak, quickly eating a cluster of it before grabbing another.
”Sheesh,” Quentin remarked, getting some leftover boiled egg and breaking off a piece. “Here. Try that.”
The fairy sniffed the egg and grabbed it, quickly devouring it in a few bites.
”Don’t make yourself sick now,” Quentin said, cutting up the egg and putting it with the granola. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”
Quentin got a small bowl of water and set it down for the fairy, then made scrambled eggs and toast for himself.
”Why were you in the helicopter?” Quentin wondered, turning off the stove and sitting down to eat. “You can fly already.”
The fairy looked out a window and smiled when a bird flew past.
”I’ve never seen anything like you up there,” Quentin said. “You can’t fly that high, or something?”
The fairy nodded and sighed.
”Were you in the helicopter the whole time we were in the jungle?” Quentin asked, narrowing his eyes.
The fairy nodded, hunching up a bit and watching him nervously.
”I need to take you back,” Quentin said. “You’re not a bug, but you could still be an invasive species here.”
The fairy stopped eating, eyes widening as it shook his head rapidly.
”Even if you didn’t cause damage,” Quentin went on, raising an eyebrow, “this isn’t your natural habitat, and I don’t want a pet.”
The fairy frowned and gave a little growl, its antennae flattening against its head.
“I don’t know what else to call you at this point,” Quentin said with a shrug.
The fairy huffed, then flew up to a cabinet in the kitchen and sat on it.
”I could get something to reach you, you know,” Quentin sighed. “But I don’t have time to be chasing you.”
He got the fairy some more water and granola, then put some jerky with it as an afterthought.
”There. Don’t know when I’ll be done with work, but you should be fine ‘til then.”
Quentin quickly got ready for work and headed out; when he looked back he saw the fairy was still perched on the cabinet.
”Don’t touch anything and don’t knock anything over, you hear?” he called. “If you do you’re cleaning it up.”
The fairy didn’t move or make a sound; with a sigh and shake of his head, Quentin shut the door and locked it.