Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is a man in the back of the dead-end alleyway. His form is partially hidden by the piles of boxes, garbage can, and the shadows obscuring the corners. He is curled up on himself, knees to his chest, and Pyro can barely make out a white dress shirt and purplish-gray pants against his dark skin.

Pyro stares at him for a long time, and the man stares back, eyes glinting almost-purple in the illumination of the nearby streetlamp.

Pyro had been walking home from his job at the coffee shop, glancing around meaninglessly as always. At work, Kaboodle had rambled to him about the new talk of the town: a man who had been reported missing just the day before after working in Clown’s lab. Pyro hadn’t paid it much mind at the time, but now he can’t help but be reminded of it as he watches the man huddle in on himself like he’s trying to hide.

“Fuck off and stop staring,” the man snarls, and Pyro nods his head in a quick apology and hurries away down the street. He’s simply making things up-- a missing person wouldn’t be found that easily. 

The man is still there the next night, pretty much exactly where Pyro had seen him before. Pyro dares to pause and observe him for a moment, and the man glares back, although not with as much ferocity as before. He seems… tired. 

“What?” the man snaps. 

“Nothing,” Pyro quickly answers, raising his hands slightly. “I was just surprised you were still here.”

“Of course you are,” the man sighs.

Pyro watches him a moment longer before leaving him in the peace of the night.

The man is there again the night after that. When he looks up at Pyro, he doesn’t even seem surprised anymore. Although, that could be because of how lethargic he appears, curled in on himself in a mess of limbs and fabric.

“What do you even want?” the man questioned, exhaustion heavy in his voice.

“I want to know why you’re here every night,” Pyro answered sharply, concern leaking into his tone.

“Fuck off,” the man groaned.

Pyro stepped forward into the alleyway, and the man’s eyes widened. He began to subtly unravel himself, as if he was preparing himself to run.

“I mean you no harm,” Pyro quickly explained. “I am… worried, though.”

“Yeah, right. If you’re so worried you can get me something to eat,” the man scoffed.

“Well, what do you want then?”

“Are you serious?”

“Very. I’ll happily get you a meal.”

The man looks at him for a while at that, gaze lingering as if searching his face for any trait of deceit. Pyro holds it. He’s quite serious-- he doesn’t know what circumstances have led this man to being huddled in an alleyway three nights in a row, but he does know that he can at least help him a little.

“All right then,” the man finally decides. “I want Chinese food. Lo mein and fried rice. And teriyaki chicken. Water with it.”

“Okay,” Pyro says, dipping his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll be back soon.”

He turns back the way he came, leaving the man to wait. There’s a Chinese restaurant close nearby, and Pyro’s eaten there enough to know that their food is consistently good. He also knows that they give large portions of the food, and he hopes that the leftovers can give the man more meals than one.

Pyro makes it to the restaurant and orders what the man had requested for takeaway. He pays for the order and gives his name for them to call before leaning against a wall to wait. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to see a text from Kaboodle.

Kaboodle: hiiiiii ^-^

Pyro: hello :]

Kaboodle: did!! you see!! the news on that Ash guy??

Pyro: Ash?

Kaboodle: the one with the lab thing

Kaboodle: Clown made a statement about how he apparently like. disregarded all the safety protocols and fell?? in?? to one of the projects???? he’s paying a ton of money to whoever finds him and brings him back to the lab

Pyro: why is there a *reward?* it makes it seem like he’s a captive or something

Kaboodle: that’s what i thought too!! the whole thing is rlly weird, esp. with how intense safety protocols r with anything lab-related now

Pyro: yeah,,,

Kaboodle: anyways do you know what Ash looks like?

Pyro: why would i

Kaboodle: if you see him! not even for the reward or anything, but just so like. his family knows he’s ok n stuff

Pyro: okay. yeah. sure. you just want to tell me more about it

Kaboodle: ;-;

Kaboodle: yeah

Pyro: go ahead

Kaboodle: OKAY SO he’s like 22 or so? he was probably wearing a lab coat or something when he fell in, or i guess not if he ignored so many safety practices

Kaboodle: he’s Indian, a little over 6 foot and he has black hair with a purple streak in it

Kaboodle: and he always wore gold?? like. a lot of it for some reason?

Kaboodle: there’s a couple theories about why but they’re all super science-based so. 

Kaboodle: if you’re interested in that stuff you can look it up but im a theatre major so

Pyro: yeah no i get it

Kaboodle: OH and there’s another guy! Branzy Craft, and he’s like Clown’s assistant?

Kaboodle: but it’s also kinda weird bc

An employee calls Pyro’s name for his order, and he shoves his phone in his pocket, resolving to read Kaboodle’s rant later. She does this a lot where she finds a new topic or story she’s interested in, learns all she can about it, and wants to tell everyone she knows about it until the next new story comes along. For all Pyro’s complaining, he really doesn’t mind, though. He’s mainly just happy she has something that makes her happy, especially after how upset she was after Maddy’s death.

He grabs the bag with the man’s food in it and the one with his water, thanking the worker, and leaves the restaurant. It’s only a few minutes before he’s approaching the alleyway again, pausing at the entrance until the man sees him.

“You’re back,” he comments, and Pyro tries to ignore how he still sounds surprised.

“I said I would be,” Pyro answers, starting to walk the length of the alley towards where the man was curled in the corner. He tries to move slowly, noting how the man watches him the whole time. He supposes he can’t blame him-- it would be foolish to trust a random stranger, after all. 

Pyro stops in front of the man, holding out the bags until the man takes them. He steps back after, moving to the side so as not to intrude on the man’s personal space.

The man unties the food bag’s handles, peering inside, then back up at Pyro. “This is for me? This isn’t a trick or anything?”

“I swear to you it is not a trick,” Pyro replies solemnly.

“Thank you, my friend,” the man grins, looking relieved. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Pyro smiles. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Although-- may I know your name?”

The man looks up at him again before turning his attention back to the bag, and for a moment Pyro thinks he won’t respond before he hears,

“Ash. My name is Ash.”

“I’m Pyro. It’s nice to meet you, Ash.”

“The same to you. Oh, the same to you.”

And with that, Pyro walks away. It’s only when he’s back in his apartment reading through Kaboodle’s messages again that he realizes; Oh, shit. He’s Ash. 

Chapter Text

When Pyro gets off of work the next day he practically runs to the alleyway. He’d wanted to go that morning, but he’d woken up too late and it would have been far too much of a delay to still be able to make it to the coffee shop on time. 

When he gets there, Ash is still in the same corner as usual. He seems livelier, though, and Pyro wonders if the food and water he gave him made a difference. If it did, then Pyro is made to think of how Ash apparently didn’t eat or barely ate for several days and, and that leads into wondering what would have happened if he didn’t help him. He especially doesn’t want to consider the water situation.

Pyro stops thinking about that.

“Hello, Pyro,” Ash says with a small smile.

“Hello, Ash,” Pyro replies warmly. He wants so desperately to ask him what happened, why he’s there, what he’s doing and what he did but he knows that probably wouldn’t lead to anything good. “May I sit with you?”

Ash hesitates for a moment, gaze distant as if considering several things at once, before nodding and gesturing to a spot close enough to Ash to talk with him but not enough to touch him.

Pyro accepts it happily, sitting criss-cross where Ash had indicated.

“Why did you want to be here?” Ash asks him, angled in such a way that he is mostly still in shadow. Pyro notices the telltale glint of gold on him a couple times despite that, cementing the idea that this is the same Ash. Now that he’s paying more attention to his appearance, he sees a bit of purple in his hair despite the darkness as well.

Pro shrugs, trying to buy himself time to come up with an answer that doesn’t correlate to the reports.  “I was curious why you were here every night. You’re always in the exact same place as well. Forgive me for wondering.”

Ash glances away, and Pyro taps a silent rhythm into the cold concrete because he needs to have something to do with his hands.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Ash finally answers, an odd cadence attaching itself. “Or anything else to do.”

It’s the stupidest idea Pyro has ever had. It is predictable and it is idiotic and like a moron he suggests, “You could stay with me.”

Ash’s head whips over to him, eyes wide. “Are you serious?” He sounds incredulous, and Pyro can’t quite tell if it’s in a positive or negative way.

“Er, yes? I have a spare room in my apartment. The coffee shop I’m working at needs more workers too, if you needed a job.”

Ash laughs, but it lacks humour. 

“That’s, like, Easiest Ways to Get Murdered 101,” Ash says, and-- well. Pyro can’t exactly blame him, because if he was in Ash’s place he sure as hell wouldn’t accept it either.

“It’s probably good you’re cautious,” Pyro tells him. “If I were you I wouldn’t accept an offer from a stranger, either.”

“Then why did you offer?” Ash questions, and Pyro takes a moment to respond because for some reason he feels compelled to give a good answer even though he himself doesn’t really know why.

“You’re interesting,” Pyro settles on. “And you don’t seem like somebody who deserves to rot in an alleyway corner.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t.”

It is silent for a minute.

  “If I’m still here after a week,” Ash begins, and Pyro startles at the sudden sound after the quiet. “--and if you visit me every night and I decide I can trust you enough, then maybe-- maybe-- I’ll take you up on the offer.”

“It’s a deal, then,” Pyro finalizes, and he leans forward a rather uncomfortable amount to stretch out his hand to Ash enough that he could reach it. Ash looks at him for a moment before extending his arm an equally uncomfortable distance and shaking Pyro’s hand.

“A businessman, then,” Ash grins, something sharp. “I like that.”

Pyro returns the next night after work, because of course he does. What else would he do on a Friday night? He’d packed sandwiches in a small bag for the visit, one for himself and one for Ash, as well as as many water bottles as he could carry. Pyro is pretty sure that Ash never leaves the alleyway for whatever reason and thus has no way of getting food or water unless Pyro brings him some, and in the hopes of making it less awkward Pyro thought they could eat together.

When he gets to the alley, Ash is in his normal spot. The familiarity is like a comfort at this point, and Ash grins when he sees him.

“Should I sit where I did last time?” Pyro asks, and Ash nods. Pyro does so, setting the bag on his lap so any bugs that may be roaming the floor can’t make their way into it. 

“What’s in the bag?” Ash asks, shifting like he’s trying to get a better look.

“A couple sandwiches, and a ton of water,” Pyro replies, opening the bag and pulling out the bottles of water, passing them all to Ash. He reaches back in for the sandwiches, each one in its own plastic baggie. “I’m going to have one sandwich. Do you want the other?”

“I mean, it’s your sandwich,” Ash says, glancing to the side. He’s obviously trying to be nonchalant, but Pyro can see in how his gaze flickers to the sandwich and how he adjusts position that he’s hungry.

“I want to give it to you,” Pyro says.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t exactly seem like you’re eating apart from what I give you,” Pyro admits. “And I don’t want you to starve.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Ash sighs. 

“Then let me give you the sandwich,” Pyro replies, holding out the sandwich to him. Ash grabs it quickly, as if he’s concerned that Pyro would revoke the offer.

“Thank you,” he says, and opens the bag.

Pyro looks away from him then, instead opening the baggie containing his own sandwich and biting into the food. He tries to mainly ignore Ash so as to not make him uncomfortable with his stare, and it seems to work because Ash is silent for a while. 

It is only when he hears the crinkle of the bag being balled up that he looks back at Ash to find the sandwich gone, the only remains being the wad of plastic in Ash’s hands.

“Do you want me to throw that away for you?” Pyro offers, his own bag empty in his hand.

“Sure,” Ash says, and Pyro stands to move over to Ash. “Actually, while you’re here, would you throw this out for me too?” Ash rummages in his corner for a moment before holding up the bag the Chinese food had come in, filled with the empty food containers and water bottles.

“Of course,” Pyro says, taking it as well and throwing all the trash into the nearby trash can. He returns to his spot, sitting down before questioning, “May I ask why you didn’t throw that away yourself?”

“I don’t risk being seen,” Ash replies, and why didn’t Pyro think of that? There’s missing posters out and a reward on his head-- of course Ash would be anxious to move from his little corner.

“I see,” is all Pyro says in return, because he has a feeling Ash wouldn’t let him be near him anymore if he knew that Pyro knew who he was.

Ash yawns, and Pyro looks at his watch, sees how late it is, and takes that as his cue to leave. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Pyro promises. “Would you like me to bring you a blanket or something?”

“You don’t have to,” Ash replies, pulling his legs closer to his chest.

Pyro makes a mental note to buy a blanket on his way to Ash the next night.

Chapter Text

Pyro goes back the next day. He doesn’t have work that day, so he estimates the time that he’d usually get there and then leaves a bit earlier to stop by the store. He touches each blanket they have, making sure to find one with a nice, soft texture that wouldn’t pick grime up instantly from being in the alley (while also staying within budget, because Pyro had bills to pay). He found one eventually: a golden blanket that was warm and soft while not being too fluffy.

He wraps it around his shoulders like a cape as he walks to Ash’s alley.

Pyro had also brought Ash more food, chicken and salad this time, as well as more water. He’d taken to saving plastic bottles and filling them up with tap water to give to Ash in order to save on money. 

Pyro gives Ash the blanket. Ash seems surprised that Pyro actually brought him one.

They eat together.

Pyro throws Ash’s trash away for him.

Pyro leaves, and the next night he will come back, because there is something alluring about Ash and Pyro isn’t sure he could stay away if he wanted to.

It’s a nice routine. Pyro doesn’t have work the next day either. He brings food and water. Walks to Ash. They eat. He throws Ash’s trash away. He leaves.

He has work the day after. He goes, then walks to Ash with food and water stored in his bag. They eat, Pyro throws Ash’s trash away, and Pyro leaves.

When Pyro returns to his apartment that night, he thinks about Ash living in it. He envisions the spot Ash would claim on the couch, his golden blanket tossed over the side. He thinks of how Ash would decorate the spare room that would become his. He imagines the two of them cooking together, Ash well-fed and not depending on Pyro’s scraps.

It’s quite nice.

What isn’t nice is Tuesday.

Pyro’s day at work had been relatively uneventful, meaning it had been fairly pleasant. He was in a good mood as he walked the short distance to Ash’s alleyway, especially since he had cooked some pork ragu that morning for him. It sat safely in a container in Pyro’s bag, a good choice as Pyro knew from experience that it still tasted good cold.

Pyro makes it to Ash’s alleyway, eagerly anticipating being able to give Ash something he made for once rather than something premade. His steps are light and there is a faint smile on his face. There’s only two more days until Ash (hopefully) moves in, and Pyro is so very, very excited.

Something feels wrong as soon as he sets foot inside the alley.

Pyro’s skin prickles, and something smells wrong. He darts forward, concerned for Ash and if something happened to him or he got attacked or or or or--

He skids to a stop on the corner, and for a moment he does not see Ash and it is a horrible, horrible moment. Then he looks down, and sees Ash laying on the ground, eyes barely lidded and looking barely awake. 

“Ash?” Pyro asks, tone sharp in worry as he waves a hand in front of Ash’s face. “Ash, are you okay?”

Ash brings his hand up, vaguely moving it back and forth.

“Hello…” Ash mumbles, sluggish and lacking. Pyro stares at him in fear for a moment before glancing around frantically, looking for anything and anyone who could possibly help.

He finds nothing, and Pyro hesitates. He has medical supplies at his apartment, but he’s scared to leave Ash alone, but he doesn’t want to break Ash’s trust--

Screw it. 

Pyro would rather have an angry and healthily alive Ash than a sickly or dead one.

Ash is twisted oddly on the ground, and Pyro kneels down to lightly push him to roll onto his back. His face contorts for a moment, and Pyro freezes until Ash’s face returns to normal like slime returning to its original form, never able to keep a solid shape.

Pyro hooks one hand under Ash’s knees, then the other one under his back. He stands slowly, taking Ash with him. 

For a moment, Pyro thinks it will work out, thinks everything is perfect until he feels something soft against his hand. He looks down and jumps, fighting not to drop Ash as he stares at the very large crow wings protruding from his back.

Holy shit. This is not real. This is not real life. Ash does not have literal wings--

The lab. 

Pyro sets Ash back on the ground on his stomach, shaking too much to be as gentle as he probably should be to someone who looks half-dead. He stares at the wings flopped limply against Ash’s back and the ground, because those must have come from the lab and did this have something to do with Ash’s disappearance? Unless this whole-- thing had something to do with Ash gaining wings (and he’s pretty sure it isn’t, because the tears on the back of Ash’s shirt look old and there are no signs of emerging wings) then it had to be something involving Ash suddenly going missing.

This is fine. Totally and completely fine. Pyro knew Ash was the Ash from the articles, and really, he should’ve expected something odd to come from it. It makes sense at least now why Ash wouldn’t leave the corner, why he always seems to have his back against the wall and be in shadows.

Pyro lets himself stare at Ash’s wings for a few extra moments before kicking his brain into a more appropriate gear.

He needs to get Ash to his apartment, and fast. Issue: Ash has wings that everybody will notice, and that will create more problems. There is no way Pyro can shove Ash’s wings under his shirt, because they’re far too large.

Out of options, Pyro leaves Ash on the floor for a minute as he looks around the alleyway again, this time for anything that could bind Ash’s wings to him for just a few minutes. It is when he checks Ash’s corner that he finds the solution: the blanket he had given him. Pyro grabs it quickly, dashing back to where he had left Ash on the ground.

Ash’s wings are moving slightly, twitching up for a moment or two before falling back down. Pyro prays he won’t do permanent damage as he pushes the blanket under Ash’s torso until it looks like Ash is about to have a ribbon tied around him. It’s not too far from the truth.

Pyro folds Ash’s wings against his back carefully, trying to get them to lay as naturally as seems possible. He is suddenly wishing that he knew quite a lot more about bird wing anatomy, but there’s not much he can do about it now. Once the wings stay in place, Pyro pulls the blanket tightly over them and ties it in place, effectively keeping them bound (hopefully not tight enough to cause damage).

Pyro then twists the blanket around so the tied end is under Ash’s ribs against the floor and the other side is covering Ash’s wings. Pyro adjusts it until he’s satisfied before carefully rolling Ash to lie on his back.

Pyro picks him up bridal-style as quickly as he can after that, deeply unwilling to risk crushing or injuring Ash’s wings. He’s really very grateful that he’d made himself stick to his gym training regimen, because otherwise he’s not sure he would’ve been able to execute his plan.

The blanket covers Ash’s wings enough to avoid suspicion by passerby, and Pyro starts to walk. He hurries out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk, the route to his apartment from there as familiar to his feet as the soles of his shoes.

He gets a couple odd looks from strangers as he walks past, but nobody questions it enough to cause Pyro to pause, especially when Ash’s eyes have been closed ever since he set him down and his head is lolled back. Pyro makes it into his apartment building, hitting the button for the elevator with his elbow. 

As he waits, the receptionist gives him only a moment’s glance before turning back to her work, and Pyro makes a mental note to give her some money as a gift at the next appropriate holiday.

The elevator dings then, and Pyro does not hesitate to step into it. He manages to hit the button for his floor, and then the two of them are just waiting. Well, Pyro is waiting. He has no idea what Ash is thinking, or even if he’s aware of anything that is going on.

He doesn’t know if he hopes he is or not.

Finally, the elevator reaches Pyro’s floor, and Pyro rushes out and towards his apartment. It is awkward and takes quite a lot of maneuvering, but Pyro manages to fish his keys out from his pocket and unlock his door. As soon as Ash is inside and the door is relocked, Pyro is taking him towards the guest bedroom that he’d been envisioning as Ash’s, although in much better circumstances. 

Pyro lays him gently on the bed, removing the makeshift binding and letting it drop to the ground to deal with later. Ash’s hand curls limply around the blankets, releasing and curling again. Pyro takes it as a beautiful, beautiful sign that Ash will be okay.

He leaves to get more supplies.

Chapter Text

Pyro returns to the guest bedroom with medicine tucked under his arm and clutched tightly in his hands. He wasn’t quite sure what would help, so he grabbed whatever he thought could help: a golden apple, a bottle of healing, a bottle of regeneration, a bottle of strength, etc. Although, Pyro is pretty sure it wasn’t good to give someone so many different types of medicine at once, so he’ll have to pick and choose one soon.

He moves closer to the bed, setting the items down on the nightstand before turning his attention to Ash. Pyro had laid him on his stomach, letting his wings drape loosely over his back and the blankets. As Pyro looks down at the sick man, his eyes are drawn to the fact that Ash’s hand is no longer moving and he is so very, very still.

Pyro panics. He shoves Ash’s side until he’s laying on his back, wings now splayed to the side awkwardly. Pyro slams his hand against Ash’s chest, his own heart racing as he waits to feel a pulse. It’s an awful moment of waiting and shifting his hand around because he never could remember exactly where the heart was until--

There’s a heartbeat. It’s not even weak or faint-- instead, it’s as normal and healthy-sounding as Pyro’s is when not worried that someone he cares for is dead.

Pyro sighs in relief, moving his hand away, instead placing it on the edge of the bed to support himself as he recovers from the adrenaline rush. As he looks again at Ash, calmer this time, he decides that he should try to get him to sit up, both for the health of his wings and for the medicine. 

Ash still appears quite firmly passed out, and so after arranging pillows against the headboard, Pyro hooks his hands around Ash’s sides and under his armpits. He manages to maneuver him upwards so he’s leaning against the padded headboard, albeit not easily as Ash’s body flops to the side at any opportunity. Pyro arranges his wings so they are laying nicely on either side of Ash and prays he’s handling this correctly, because he has had no training in bird wings or caring for an unconscious person but he’s trying his best.

Now that Ash is (mostly) upright and confirmed alive, Pyro can think more clearly about what medicine would be the best to give Ash. After a few minutes of consideration, he decides on regeneration and strength. The regeneration should help Ash’s body heal faster, and the strength should give it more energy to do so.

The issue now is how to get Ash to take it, because in order to swallow the medicine he needs to be, well, conscious. And Ash currently is very much not so. 

Pyro sets his hands on Ash’s shoulders, shaking him lightly, then a bit more intensely when he doesn't respond. After a few moments, Ash’s eyes open slightly, and he squints at Pyro as if confused.

“Pyro?” he asks, slurring his words still.

“Yes, it’s me,” Pyro agrees softly. “I need you to take this medicine, all right?”

Ash mumbles incoherently, but he nods sluggishly along with it so Pyro takes it as a yes. Pyro pours some of the strength into a small plastic cup, offering it to Ash. Ash lifts his arm as if reaching for it, but his hand doesn’t make it more than fifteen centimeters from the bed before slumping back down.

Pyro glances back up at Ash’s face to see him staring at his own hand in confusion. Pyro can’t bring himself to be surprised at Ash’s current lack of strength, and so he asks:

“How about if I pour it in your mouth? Can you swallow?”

Ash nods dazedly, and Pyro puts a hand under Ash’s chin to stabilize it before tipping the medicine cup into his mouth. Albeit awkward, the system works, and the strength is gone from the cup in a few moments.

Pyro pours regeneration into it next, and Ash manages to drink that as well. When Pyro pulls the cup away, Ash moves his head to the side, eyes slipping closed.

“Do you want to go to sleep now?” Pyro asks, and Ash bobs his head groggily.

“I’ll help you get under the covers, then,” Pyro says, already going to adjust the blankets.

“Th’ grime…” Ash mumbles, not moving from where he’s sat on top of the covers. Pyro glances at Ash’s tired expression first, then down at his clothes. They admittedly aren’t the cleanest, but for Ash staying in an alleyway for over a week straight they’re impressively undirtied. Still, though, the dirt and grime are evident.

“It’s all right,” Pyro reassures. “I can clean the sheets. I want to make sure you can rest to fight whatever this is.”

Ash stares glassily at Pyro for a moment, and Pyro holds his gaze until Ash slowly moves enough that Pyro can pull the covers down for him. Ash crawls until he is where the blankets once were, flopping down exhaustedly. With Ash’s head on the pillow and body in a relatively comfortable position, Pyro pulls the blankets over him and up to his shoulders. 

Ash’s hand comes up to tug at the blankets, only relaxing into a curled position around the covers when they are up to his chin. He is still soon after, eyes closed peacefully.

For the first time in a few hours, Pyro feels fairly peaceful too.

He picks up the medicine bottles and everything else he had brought in, leaving Ash’s room and shutting the door softly behind him. He replaces the items in their rightful spots, washing the medicine cup before returning it to the cabinet. 

Pyro realizes then that he had never had his dinner, as he had planned to eat with Ash that night. Exhausted both emotionally and physically, he grabs a premade charcuterie pack and trudges towards his couch. He peels open the plastic and begins eating his dinner, pulling out his phone as he does so.

He has quite a few missed messages from Kaboodle.

Kaboodle: hey!! you seemed a bit off at work today, everything ok?

Kaboodle: i just wanna make sure you’re ok n all ^-^

Kaboodle: esp. since youve been a bit distant lately

Kaboodle: not that im blaming you or something!! just trying to explain why im concerned

Kaboodle: would you mind replying kind of soon?

Kaboodle: i know its only been an hour but like i said im worried for you

Kaboodle: hey so uh im kind of really worried?

Kaboodle: like its only been two hours and your phone could be dead or something but you usually reply quicker?

Kaboodle: so let me know if youre ok soon please :]

Kaboodle: pyro it’s been three hours i am about to get rae to blow up your phone if you do not reply in five minutes

Pyro glanced at the timestamp of Kaboodle’s last message; it had been sent at 10:02, and it was currently 10:06. With the realization of less than a minute to spare, Pyro rushed to tap out a message.

Pyro: im alive please dont tell rae to destroy my phone

Kaboodle: oh just in time

Kaboodle: why havent you been responding?? im sorry if im being kinda overbearing but i was rlly worried something had happened to you

Pyro: i know, im sorry. a friend of mine was having an emergency and i couldnt check my phone

Kaboodle: oh shit, are they okay?

Pyro: yeah, i think they will be. theyre doing better now

Kaboodle: well that’s good, im glad

Kaboodle: is it ok if i come over sometime? we havent hung out in forever

Pyro: as much as id rlly like that said friend is currently staying with me and they don’t do well with people

Kaboodle: oh, ok!! no worries :3

Kaboodle: could we meet up somewhere then?

Kaboodle: i do miss you

Pyro: yeah ofc! it might be a few days until my friend is definitely okay, but i want to see you too :]

Kaboodle: sounds good!

Kaboodle: now get some rest, it sounds like youve had a long night

Pyro: fine fine

Pyro: goodnight

Kaboodle: goodnight!!

Pyro shuts off his phone, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. His empty food package nearly slides off his lap, and Pyro shoots out a hand to grab it. He sighs, fatigue and adrenaline catching up to him.

He stands, taking the food package with him to throw in the nearly-full trash can. Pyro stares at it for a long moment before deciding that he can take out the trash tomorrow when he hasn’t just spent around three hours panicking over Ash.

Pyro begins walking to his room but hesitates, fingers twitching as he nears Ash’s room. The need for reassurance takes over, and he curls his hand around the door handle, opening it a sliver to peer inside. Ash is curled up in the bed under the covers still, having only moved slightly since Pyro left him. His chest rises and falls at a rhythm Pyro can accept, and he shuts the door quietly so as not to disturb him.

Ash needs all the rest he can get to deal with whatever’s going on with him. Pyro is tempted to look up Ash’s symptoms, but he knows it will only fuel his paranoia with results diagnosing fatal illnesses.

Pyro glances once more at the closed door and keeps walking to his bedroom.

Chapter Text

Pyro wakes up to noise. He rolls over lazily from where he is bundled in his blankets in bed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. There’s the sound of footsteps, and cabinets closing and silverware clanking and-- who is in his apartment?

It couldn’t be Ash. He was so ill he could barely move. It must be somebody else-- oh, and what if it is Clown, come to take Ash back to the laboratory?

Pyro stares at his shut door with his heart racing, pulse thudding in his ears. Slowly, quietly, he untangles himself from his covers, slides out of bed. He glances around his room for a weapon, quickly settling on the golf club he’d found at a cheap garage sale and bought for just this purpose. 

Pyro grabs the club and hefts it over his shoulder. He creeps towards his door. Pyro reaches out, opens it slowly.

He throws it open, barging into the hallway, club at the ready to attack whoever is intruding and as he looks around he sees nobody except for--

“Ash?” Pyro questions, adrenaline still racing through his veins as he stares at the man in his kitchen, wings puffed up in surprise.

“Are you all right there?” Ash asks, gaze flicking between Pyro’s pajamas and the golf club he still wields.

“I thought you were an intruder,” Pyro sighs, lowering the golf instrument. “Wait-- how are you walking? Last night you were so ill you could barely move.”

Ash shrugs, turning his attention back to the plate of toast in front of him. “I have no idea. Last night I felt like shit and was barely conscious, and then I woke up this morning feeling perfectly healthy.”

“That’s quite odd,” Pyro comments, leaning the club against the wall and walking into the kitchen. Ash folds his wings in as Pyro passes, taking a bite of his toast once Pyro is out of possible contact range.

“Yeah, it is,” Ash sighs.

A thought strikes Pyro, and he adds, “Maybe it’s from the--” and then he cuts himself off so suddenly he nearly startles himself.

Ash glances up at him, something akin to suspicion in his gaze. “From what?”

“From, ah, a side effect of your wings. Or perhaps a peculiar strain of sickness from living in the alley,” Pyro hurries out, opening the fridge to have something to do with his hands.

Ash doesn’t know that he knows about the lab. He can’t know, or else he will leave and Pyro will never be able to find him and who knows what could happen to Ash then with his wings.

Pyro pulls out the butter, then flutters over to the basket on the counter for bread. His fingers shake as he takes out a slice, and he does his best to still them but they still tremble minutely. 

Ash leans against the counter as he eats his toast, and Pyro can see him watching him out of the corner of his eyes. 

Pyro puts the bread in the toaster, having decided to just copy Ash.

Ash’s wings twitch, and Pyro glances away. They stand in silence as Pyro waits for his toast to pop.

Ash finishes his breakfast, and Pyro’s toast springs up only when he turns his back on it to put Ash’s plate in the correct spot in the dishwasher.

Pyro plates his food and begins to eat, glancing at Ash out of the corner of his eye. He is looking at the wall, but his gaze is far away.

Pyro breaks the silence. 

“Ash?”

“Yeah?” he replies, turning to look at Pyro.

“Do you want to take a shower? I’ve got some clothes you can borrow after that would probably fit you. You can cut holes in the back of the shirt for your wings.”

“Oh,” Ash says, looking surprised for a moment before schooling his face back into a neutral expression. “I’d like that, yeah.”

“I’ll retrieve the clothes, then,” Pyro says, finishing the last bite of his toast and putting away the dirty plate. He walks to his bedroom, opening the drawers of his dresser and looking over the contents. Ash is taller than him, and his suit hangs loosely on him so Pyro guesses he’s probably a bit thinner than Pyro’s more muscular build. 

After a minute, Pyro decides on an old t-shirt with a couple zombies from a video game on it and a pair of black sweatpants, as well as a pair of brand-new boxers from the pack. He takes a pair of scissors with him on his way out, as he has no idea how much space Ash’s wings need and figures it’s better to let him do it himself.

Ash is standing next to the counter tapping his fingers when Pyro returns. It’s in a rhythm, but not any Pyro recognizes.

He tries to ignore it, instead presenting Ash with the clothes and scissors.

“The boxers are new from the pack,” Pyro explains awkwardly, quickly moving to discussing the scissors and how “I didn’t know how big the holes should be, so I thought it might make more sense for you to do it yourself.”

“Thank you,” Ash grins, taking the offerings. “I really appreciate it,” he says, and he sounds sincere.

“Of course,” Pyro answers. “There’s the bathroom--” he points at the room, although it’s relatively obvious that’s what it is as the door is open and the contents of the room revealed. “-- and the white towel in there is clean.”

Ash nods, thanks him again. Pyro repeats his earlier answer, and Ash leaves to shower. 

As Ash shuts the door behind him, Pyro’s phone rings, and he fumbles it from his pocket to find his alarm labeled “Work In Half An Hour.”

He swears, shoving his phone in his pocket and heading towards his room. As much as he doesn’t really want to leave Ash alone, he also can’t skip work for him, and it’s far too late to call out without feeling at least slightly guilty.

And so, Pyro changes into more appropriate clothes for work than pajamas. He stuffs a mint in his mouth as his toothbrush is in the bathroom and thus currently unavailable. Pyro grabs his wallet and keys from where they lay on his desk, hurrying out into the kitchen.

He rifles through drawers for a moment until he finds a small pack of note paper. Pyro tears one off, placing it on the counter before using a nearby pen to scribble a note to Ash. The general gist is that he has had to leave to go to work, and will be home at 7:20 pm or so and to please have whatever food he wants while he is gone.

With Pyro’s anxiety high and work drive low, he calls to Ash that he’s leaving and that there’s a note on the counter before rushing out the door.

Chapter Text

Work was uneventful. Kaboodle had been put on the same shift as him again, something that Pyro was grateful for as she was both one of his closest friends and one of the most efficient workers. In between coffee orders and pastry requests they talked, conversation flowing easily except for whenever Kaboodle mentioned anything related to Ash.

Pyro knows she has good intentions. He also knows if she sees Ash, she’ll probably instantly clock him as the guy from the articles, and that won’t go well for anyone.

Whenever she brings him up, Pyro manages to steer the conversation away, and so Pyro’s work shift is nice. At seven pm he clocks out after cleaning up with Kaboodle and begins the walk home. Pyro is pretty sure he has some chicken already cut in the fridge, and he begins brainstorming recipe ideas.

Perhaps just baked plain? Maybe some cheese on it, or a sauce? Pyro isn’t much of a chef, but he can enjoy a nice meal. He then remembers the ragu made the previous morning and resigns himself to leftovers instead.

He makes his way to his apartment, turning the key to unlock his door. Pyro considers getting Ash his own key for a moment before shaking his head to rid himself of the thought. He is certain Ash does not want to stay permanently, and even if he did, Ash can’t exactly leave with the wings.

Pyro opens the door, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. He tosses his keys in the key bowl on the counter, noting that Ash isn’t around. The bathroom door is open, but Ash’s door is shut, and Pyro realizes he’s probably inside.

Pyro steps closer, knocks lightly on the door. 

“Ash?” he calls. “I’m going to heat up some leftover pork ragu. Do you want some?”

There is no reply, and so Pyro tries again, bits of concern that Ash is ill again creeping in.

“Ash? Are you all right?”

Nothing.

“I’m going to open your door in case you’re ill and can’t respond,” Pyro warns, resting his hand on the door handle. When there is once again only silence, Pyro twists it to open the door--

It’s locked.

The worry is only growing. He knew he shouldn’t have left Ash alone for eight hours.

“I’m going to get the key and unlock this door if you don’t say something,” Pyro informs, and that is the catalyst for Ash to finally respond.

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that,” Ash responds, and he sounds anything but okay. His sentences are more grunt than speech, and the evident pain in his voice thuds with each syllable. 

“No, I-- I think I do,” Pyro answers, shakier than before. He stands on his tiptoes and takes the key from the top of the doorway, inserting it into the lock on the door.

He really doesn’t want to do this. He really, really wants to give Ash his space, but fear is clouding his head and Ash’s tone is only adding to it.

Pyro opens the door.

He doesn’t know if he wishes he didn’t.

Ash is sitting cross-legged on the floor, shirtless with the top Pyro gave him folded nicely away from him. He is hunched over, but his ribs aren’t hidden by the motion.

The worst part is his wings.

The scissors Pyro lent Ash are opened over the base of his left wing like a saw. No, not over the base-- in the base, because as Ash glares at Pyro he realizes the hatred is not directed towards him.

“Fuck off,” Ash snarls, reminiscent of when Pyro first met him.

“Ash, what the hell are you doing!” Pyro exclaims, rushing towards him. Ash jerks back, wings flaring open seemingly on instinct and the scissors only dig in further. They’re only about a third of the way through, but the blood is soaking into the white towel underneath.

“They’re useless!” Ash snaps. “I didn’t ask for them, and I can’t do fucking anything because of them. So, I’m getting rid of them.”

“There has to be a better way than this! You don’t know what effects this will have. I’m sure there’s some benefits to them!” Pyro has stopped just in front of Ash, hands hovering over where Ash is contorted with his arm behind his back and the other supporting himself.

“I can’t even fly!”

“Well, of course you can’t! You haven’t trained the muscles! Just-- just stop, before you fuck yourself up even more.” It is an outburst, but Pyro can’t bring himself to be ashamed when there is fire in his veins and icy fear in his heart and at least he has made Ash look at him for longer than a few seconds.

Pyro kneels next to him, reaches for his arm. Ash lets him pull his hand away from his wing and pry the scissors out of his tight grasp.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Pyro says, voice calm with the crash of tension. “I have healing supplies.”

Ash doesn’t fight him, a fact that is somewhat concerning at this point but currently working in Pyro’s favor. Pyro stands, then reaches out a hand for Ash to take as well. Ash does so, standing wobblily, wings beginning to flare for balance before the left one droops and curls in on itself.

Pyro keeps holding his hand as he starts to walk forwards, leading Ash out of the room and on the short trip to the bathroom.

“Sit on the edge of the tub, please,” Pyro directs, letting go of Ash’s grip to wash his hands before fishing medications from the cabinet. He hears the shuffling of fabric behind him and assumes that Ash has done so, and when he turns around with the supplies he finds that he is correct.

Ash is hunched over again, elbows on his knees, and with how scrawny and pathetic he looks Pyro is reminded of what he’s endured, how something happened at the lab to where Ash lived in an alley corner for a week, relying on Pyro to simply keep him alive.

Pyro decided to think about other things instead, such as cleaning and bandaging Ash’s wing.

He sits next to Ash on the edge of the tub, and Ash barely spares him a glance. 

“I’m going to use this cup of water to rinse it out,” Pyro warns. “it might hurt.”

“All right,” Ash mumbles.

“And I need to touch your wing,” Pyro adds, and Ash nods.

Pyro reaches out for his wing, gently unfolding it and laying it in the tub so he could get at the injury on the base. He pours the cup of water over it slowly, rinsing out the blood until only tinges of red are left on the wound. Water splashes on Ash’s bare back, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Pyro squeezes some cream out of the tube, then onto his hand. He rubs it into the cut and the area around it, trying his best not to disturb the feathers. The roll of bandages is next, and Pyro wraps them around the wound as best he can while still allowing Ash as much motion as possible.

“I’m done,” Pyro murmurs as he ties off the bandages and stands to put the supplies away.

“This sucks,” Ash mutters behind him.

“What does?”

“All of it. The wings, mostly. But the lab shit too.”

Pyro’s heart drops.

Chapter Text

“Lab stuff?” Pyro questions carefully.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Ash sighs, and Pyro still doesn’t dare to turn around despite the supplies having been shakily put away.

“I know you know. You weren’t exactly convincing earlier,” Ash adds, and Pyro winces. 

“You aren’t upset?” Pyro asks.

“Nah. You were bound to find out eventually-- I’m sure my disappearance has been all over the news.”

“It has, yes,” Pyro admits, finally turning to see Ash. He is still hunched over, wings now curled around him like a shield. He looks resigned, as if giving into his fate.

“I’m going to heat up some pork ragu,” Pyro says, and Ash glances up at him in confusion.

“What? How the hell does that correlate?” Ash question, face twisted.

“It doesn’t,” Pyro said, because it honestly doesn’t but Ash looks pathetic and it’s not something that fits him and so Pyro needed to get the subject away from the lab. “But I think it would be good to get some food.”

Ash shrugs, returning to gazing at the ground with a blank expression. Pyro looks at him for a long moment, noticing in the still moment the scars that cross his skin. They are on his arms, both lines and pinpricks surrounding his veins, and they go across his back as well. His chest is similarly marred, and Pyro is reminded of his previous want of getting Ash well-fed by how scrawny he appears.

“Come with me to heat up the food,” Pyro says instead of letting his thoughts continue to swirl. When Ash doesn’t move, Pyro steps closer, offering him a hand. Ash takes it, standing slowly, left wing still teetering between upright and flopped sideways.

“We’ll stop by your room first,” Pyro says, mostly to himself despite addressing Ash because Ash looks anything but present. He leads him to the room Ash is staying in. The pace is slow, because Ash shambles along unsteadily and an expression like his mind has been wiped blank. He looks like a corpse, reanimated solely because there was no point in him being dead.

Simply put, Ash looks exhausted, and Pyro cannot blame him.

They make it to Ash’s room, and Pyro holds onto his hand even as he crouches to pick up the shirt given to Ash from where it had been folded on the floor. 

He stands, offers it to Ash, and Ash lets go of Pyro’s grip to pull it over his head, but his wings quickly get stuck. Pyro glances at Ash’s back to find that the hastily torn holes are nowhere near large enough, and he vaguely wonders if that frustration was the tipping point.

Ash makes some pitiful noise, and Pyro pulls the shirt off of him as gently as he can, wincing as a couple feathers are jerked the wrong way. A lot of his feathers already are. though, and although the dirt isn’t exceptionally prominent due to the dark coloring it is certainly there.

Pyro makes a mental note to offer to help clean them another day when Ash has not already had something of a breakdown over them.

For now, Pyro says instead, “How would you feel about the back of the shirt being open?”

“Sure, whatever,” Ash sighs, and as soon as Pyro has gotten some food in him then he is going to do his damndest to get Ash to bed because his eyelids are drooping. Pyro kneels on the floor, reaching for the nearby scissors before remembering how the edges are tinged in blood.

It wouldn’t be healthy to use them now, not physically nor mentally.

“Stay here for a moment, please,” Pyro requests, taking the scissors with him as he stands and leaves the room. He can feel Ash’s gaze lingering on him as he leaves, and Pyro tries not to let it affect him. He shoves the dirtied scissors in a random drawer to clean and hide later when he has the chance to, taking an extra pair from their spot in the tool holder for the time being.

When he returns to Ash’s room, the man is in the exact same place Pyro left him. His eyes track Pyro lazily as he passes and lowers himself once more to the ground.

It’s fairly simple to cut the shirt, as it’s only a large rectangle out of the back. It doesn’t take long, and in only a minute Pyro is upright and holding the marred garment out to Ash.

Ash takes it, hands sluggish with fatigue and puts the shirt on. it works significantly better this time, his wings easily fitting through. Pyro hopes that the left one recovers soon, because if not then it might not be as easy for Ash to fly as he had hoped.

“Can I just go to bed now?” Ash mutters, swaying slightly.

“Soon,” Pyro promises. “You truly need some food first, though.”

Ash grumbles, but does not protest. Pyro takes his hand again, leads him out of the room and back into the kitchen. Ash slumps into a chair at the table, resting his head on a fist. 

Pyro retrieves the pork ragu from the fridge and sets it on the counter before turning the oven on the preheat. It’s an uneventful few minutes as Pyro fiddles with his hands and Ash silently watches. The silence is heavy.

The oven’s ding startles Pyro, but when he glances at Ash he barely seems affected. From the adrenaline crash of the day’s events combined with the stress of the last week, it’s somewhat miraculous he’s even listening to Pyro’s instructions to stay awake.

Pyro slides the dish into the oven, sets the timer. As he waits, he decides that he really truly does not want to go in to work tomorrow.

He doesn’t think it would be wise at this point. 

And so he pulls out his phone and opens the messaging app. His boss is only high on his contacts list because he doesn’t message many other people. In fact, Pyro rarely takes days off of work unless he is sick, and so he does not feel as guilty as he otherwise may have about the short notice.

Pyro: Hello, an emergency has unfortunately come up. As such, I will not be able to come into work tomorrow. My apologies for the inconvenience.

Win: :thumbs_up: 

Pyro shuts off his phone, glancing at the time before the screen goes black. It is a little past eight, and normally Pyro wouldn’t even think about going to bed at this time but for once he is tired.

Pyro and Ash do not talk while they wait for the food to be ready.

When the oven shows only a couple minutes remaining, Pyro takes a couple plates from the cabinet and sets them down on the counter. One of them clinks rather loudly, and out of the corner of his eye, Pyro can see Ash’s head jerk up as if he had been falling asleep.

“It’ll be ready in a couple minutes,” Pyro says. You can rest soon, he thinks.

Ash nods, or rather bobs his head, and Pyro cannot quite tell if he meant for it to be an agreement or if it was rather just a fatigued movement.

The oven goes off, and neither jump.

Pyro puts on an oven glove and takes out the pan, leaning back slightly so that the smoke cannot infiltrate his eyes. He sets it on the stovetop, taking out a large spoon from a drawer and shoveling a serving onto each pre-prepared plate.

The forks clang against each other as Pyro takes them from the same drawer, the noise ringing through the quiet space.

Pyro steps over to the table Ash has been waiting at, sets one plate in front of Ash and the other at his own chair. 

Pyro sits. They eat. Pyro does not throw Ash’s trash away, for there is no trash because Ash is no longer in the alleyway and they are eating off of proper dishware now.

Pyro does not leave, either.

Ash finishes his food remarkably quickly for having no energy earlier, and Pyro copies him. Pyro takes the plates, rinses them quickly in the sink, sets them in the dishwasher and closes the door.

“You can go to bed now,” Pyro says as he walks back over to Ash. Ash barely spares him a heavily lidded glance as he pushes himself up from the table, but then he pauses.

“I might just hang out in your room, if that’s cool,” Ash mumbles.

“Of course. Although, there isn’t exactly a comfortable place to sleep other than my bed.”

“Floor’s fine.”

“Why do you want to be in my room so much?”

Ash shrugs, casts his eyes towards the floor, then at the window and then really anywhere but Pyro.

“I, uh. Don’t really want to be alone,” he admits, a confession that sounds forced out of his throat, not because of an untruth but for how truthful it is.

“Oh. That’s understandable,” Pyro nods. “You’re welcome to sleep in my bed with me, though. It’s large enough that it shouldn’t be cramped, and it likely isn’t good for you to sleep on the floor while you’re healing anyways.”

“All right,” Ash says quietly, swaying on his feet.

“I’ll go in to get my clothes, then I’ll go in the bathroom to change and brush my teeth-- ah, I need to get you a toothbrush soon-- and then I’ll return,” Pyro outlines, and Ash nods.

They walk together to Pyro’s room, Pyro slowing his speed to match Ash’s. Ash has long legs, and Pyro doesn’t doubt that Ash would usually go significantly faster than this.

True to his word, Pyro collects his sleepwear from his dresser as Ash pads past him. He goes into the bathroom, following his previously detailed plan. When he returns to the bedroom, Ash is curled on one edge of the bed, facing the middle with his wings falling off the side.

“You can come in closer,” Pyro tells him, climbing on the other side and pulling the covers over himself. There is plenty of space, and so after a moment Ash scoots closer, curling his wings in such a way that they lay on the bed, looking significantly more comfortable.

Pyro pulls the cord on his bedside lamp, and darkness floods the room. The window above Pyro’s bed allows the tiniest bit of light, just enough to create a calming atmosphere.

Insects chirp outside Pyro’s window and he can hear the air conditioning humming. He glances at Ash, and his eyes are already closed, chest rising and falling lazily.

It is peaceful, and so Pyro closes his eyes.

Chapter Text

When Pyro opens his eyes, there is darkness. He’s confused for a moment, bringing a sleep-slowed hand up to bat at whatever is over his face. It moves away quickly, and Pyro watches as Ash’s wing twitches to lay over Pyro’s chest instead of his eyes.

Ash is curled on his side facing away from Pyro. His wings are splayed across the entire other side of the bed, including Pyro. As Pyro blinks, adjusting to being in the waking world again, he realizes that the other wing is spread lazily across his legs.

Doing his best not to move too much, Pyro reaches to the nightstand next to him for his phone. He hadn’t set an alarm last night since he wasn’t going to work, so he has no idea what time he’s woken up. After a few moments of fumbling, Pyro finally manages to clamp his fingers around the phone and pull it up to his face.

It’s only a little after 8 am, meaning that Pyro had gotten around eleven hours of sleep; a rarity, considering Pyro usually sets his sleeping time so he’ll get a solid nine hours. He supposes it makes sense, though, what with all the abnormalities of the past few days. Why not add another to it by messing up Pyro’s sleep schedule? 

Pyro sighs minutely, glancing over at Ash again. He seems content, and Pyro reminds himself that he has no idea how much Ash has been able to sleep recently. He probably needs the rest.

Pyro sets his phone back on the nightstand. He then stares up at the plain ceiling for several minutes, simply letting his mind wander. He’s not sure what he wants to do with his off day. He supposes it probably depends on Ash and how he’s feeling.

It’s rather odd to depend on someone else for how his day will go. Pyro has lived alone ever since he moved out of his parents’ house and has grown used to being on his own schedule.

It’s not necessarily a bad thing to depend on someone else, Pyro decides. Not when it’s certain people you’re basing your time around.

Despite this, certain people really need to move their wings because Pyro’s legs are getting sore from being in the same position overnight. He shifts his legs around slightly, hoping Ash’s wings will move. They do not, and Pyro groans internally. He doesn’t want to disturb Ash, but he really has to move.

He lays careful hands on the wing covering his chest first, folding it gently and pushing it back towards Ash. Pyro jerks upright and into a sitting position before the wing could flop back, noting how it already stretches out into the empty space Pyro left.

Ash doesn’t seem to have stirred, and so Pyro takes that as a good sign. He carefully moves the wing on his legs in the same way, twisting his legs so they hang off the side of the bed before releasing the wing to spring back into where it was.

Pyro stands, turns to look back at Ash. He takes up the whole bed like this, but Pyro can’t be upset at him for it. He almost looks like he was meant for it. In some other world, he can see it: Ash, a god.

That is not this world, though, and so Pyro turns away.

He picks up his phone and leaves his bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as possibly behind him. A small part of his brain feels bad for leaving Ash behind when he’d said last night that he didn’t want to be alone, but Pyro can’t stay in his room forever.

He’s staying in the apartment, so it shouldn’t be difficult for Ash to find him.

(It doesn’t alleviate the worry, but Pyro tries not to think about it.)

Pyro arrives at the kitchen, retrieves a yoghurt from the fridge, stands at the counter to eat it. He absently thinks that sometime soon he should go to the store to get enough food for both Ash and him. He’s not sure how long Ash is staying, but it will probably be for a while.

At least until they can figure some way for Ash to go outside without immediately being recognized or taken away for his wings.

As he eats his breakfast, the idea of splitting costs crosses Pyro’s mind. The issue is that if Ash cannot leave the apartment, he cannot get a job, and Pyro doesn’t even know if it would really be good for Ash to have a job yet or not.

They’ll figure it out.

Pyro always does.

He finishes his yoghurt, tosses away the container and puts his spoon in the dishwasher.

And then Pyro stands there idly. He’s not quite sure what to do with himself. Pyro is not all that used to free time. When he gets home from work in the evenings, he is often tired and doesn’t do much. In the time before work, he’ll go to the gym or wander town.

Neither of those are an option without leaving, which Pyro is deeply unwilling to do with Ash there.

Pyro’s dilemma is solved when his bedroom door creaks open and Ash emerges, hair messed up and wings trailing behind him. He looks worried, and for a moment Pyro is afraid as well that something has happened.

“There you are,” Ash sighs. “I didn’t know where you went.”

“Oh,” Pyro says, relieved it was not something deeper. “My apologies.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Ash shrugs, making his way to meet Pyro in the kitchen. “Just got a little concerned that you’d left or something.

“I’m not going to leave you here alone,” Pyro replies, tone a bit too serious for the conversation at hand.

“What, you don’t trust me alone?” Ash asks, moving to fold his wings against his back now that he can be more relaxed. His left one refuses to raise enough to fold, and a jolt of pain strikes Ash’s face when he tries.

“Somewhat,” Pyro admits, eyeing the injury. “It is also the fact that you said you didn’t want to be alone. I can understand that.”

“Ah,” Ash says eloquently. “Thank you, then.” His speech is stilted, awkward but not ungrateful. Pyro wonders how many people have done such a small thing like staying when he asks them to.

“May I look at your wing? I’m wary of using any healing items on it since I know little about bird anatomy, but I’m not certain bandages and other medicine will be sufficient,” Pyro explains, because at the rate this is going he feels like Ash’s chances of flying are dwindling.

“Sure,” Ash replies. “I want breakfast afterwards, though.”

“That’s fair,” Pyro agrees. He leads Ash into the bathroom, has him sit on the tub edge facing the wall so Pyro can extend his wing all the way out.

Pyro kneels on the ground next to Ash, saying, “I’m going to touch your wing now. Tell me if it starts to hurt.” Ash nods, and Pyro reaches out.

The feathers are no cleaner than before, but that is not a priority. Pyro gently moves the wing out of a folded position until it is stretched to its full length, which is impressively large. Pyro supposed that it makes sense it would have to be to carry a grown human, though.

Once the wing is long and limp on the floor, Pyro turns his attention to the bandages contrasting starkly against Ash’s feathers. He unwraps them carefully and slowly, being sure not to hurt Ash. The last of the bandages is soon unraveled, and Pyro looks at the injury to see--

The wing is still halfway detached from Ash’s back. Pyro winces, because although the bleeding has stopped there is still a good chunk just on its own. The bottom half of the wing is doing all the work to move it at all, and Pyro imagines that is why it’s difficult for Ash to move it too much.

“How is it?” Ash asks, and for a moment Pyro debates sugarcoating it before deciding it’s best to be blunt.

“Not good,” Pyro responds. “A good part of it just isn’t connected to your back.”

“Shit,” Ash mutters. “Would it not just be easier to cut them off and have it done with?”

Pyro hesitates. It would be, by all traditional measures. It feels wrong, though. It feels like someone asking to cut off their arms. 

It is times like this that Pyro really wishes that Ash’s existence free of the lab wasn’t something several people were actively trying to end, because he would really love a second opinion on this.

“Not now,” Pyro settles on. “Let’s see what other solutions there are. There could be a ton of side effects that would be much worse than the wings.”

Ash grumbles, but Pyro doesn’t pay him much mind because he would be grumbling too if he was in that situation.

“I’m just going to try to bind it really tight to you and hope it reattaches itself,” Pyro tells Ash, and he receives a snort for his efforts.

“Really?” Ash asks. “That doesn’t sound like great medical advice.”

“I’m not a medical person,” Pyro responds mournfully. “I’m not an expert on any of this.”

“I’m not either,” Ash admits. “All right. Try that, then, I guess.”

“Take off your shirt so it doesn’t get stuck on you when I bind your wing,” Pyro instructs, taking a new roll of bandages from under the sink to use as bindings. Once Ash’s shirt is next to him on the floor, Pyro can’t help but linger before the next step.

“Ash, it is most likely going to hurt like hell when I fold your wing, okay?” Pyro warns. “Do you want something to bite?”

“Yeah,” Ash sighs.

“I’ll be right back,” Pyro says, and he is just a minute later, this time with the strip of fabric cut from the back of Ash’s shirt. He hands it to Ash, who twists it into a makeshift chew toy. 

“You ready?” Pyro asks, and Ash nods in confirmation.

Pyro takes the end of Ash’s wing and begins to fold it back up. The first bit isn’t bad, and he can see Ash relaxing slowly from how he had been on edge. It is when he has to move the part of the wing closest to the disconnected base that Ash tenses again, and Pyro takes the ‘get it over quick’ approach as he shoves the wing into place.

He holds it there as he uses the other hand to wind the bandages across Ash’s back and around his chest, careful not to limit the other wing. It is done after only a minute, and Pyro steps back.

“You can put your shirt on now,” Pyro says, and Ash reaches for the shirt. Pyro helps him pull it over his head so as not to disturb the newly bound wing. 

“Thanks,” Ash says (for everything you’ve done for me) .

“Of course,” Pyro replies.

Chapter Text

At 7:08 PM that day, the doorbell rings. Pyro turns to glance at the door, Ash twisting around as well. They are sat on the couch, a movie playing that Pyro couldn’t believe Ash had never seen. Pyro is on one side, his legs on the coffee table and careful not to knock over the vase of fake poppies. Ash is curled on the other side, freshly washed golden blanket around him. Their day had been largely uneventful-- Pyro had made them food and Ash’s blanket had been washed, but Ash was still exhausted, likely from the blood loss and the pain. Without much better to do, the day had been spent on largely nothing but rest.

The doorbell rings again at the lack of response, and Pyro’s gaze flicks to Ash for a moment before swiftly moving towards his door. He leans down, stares through the peephole, and there is Kaboodle, glancing anxiously at her phone.

Shit.

“Ash, get under your blanket,” Pyro whisper-shouts in desperate hopes Kaboodle doesn’t hear.

The doorbell rings a third time.

When Pyro glances back at the couch, Ash is essentially a blanket lump.

He opens the door.

“Hello, Kaboodle,” Pyro greets. “Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re okay,” Kaboodle groans, seemingly in relief. “I’m sorry, it;’s just-- we were scheduled to be on the same shift today, and then you weren’t answering your phone--” 

Pyro fights back a wince as he remembers his phone silenced and charging on the kitchen counter.

“--and when I asked Win he just said you told him you weren’t going to show up which you never fucking do and-- sorry,” Kaboodle sighs, out of breath. “I was worried. It wasn’t like you. Actually, a lot of things you’ve done lately haven’t been like you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Kab,” Pyro exhales, relieved it wasn’t something more. “It’s just-- you know the friend I told you was having an emergency? He’s still not 100%, and I’ve been kind of busy with him.”

“Right,” Kaboodle nods, cheeks rising pink. “Sorry, again. That makes sense, yeah. Is he, uh, here?”

Pyro hesitates, weighing his options.

Right as he opens his mouth, there is a crash emanating from the living room. It sounds like glass shattering and ricocheting off of the floor, and Pyro moves to block the door on instinct.

“Fuck!” swiftly follows the crash, and Pyro winces.

“Pyro, what the hell was that?” Kaboodle exclaims.

“I was just watching a movie, so really it’s nothing to worry about--” Kaboodle moves to push past him, eyes blown wide in concern. Pyro manages to shove her back by her shoulders, but only for a moment before she ducks under his arm and past him into the apartment.

Pyro twists around, slamming the door behind him before any of his neighbors can investigate as well.

The vase of fake poppies is on the floor as is Ash, tangled in his blanket with his wings covered by it. Glass shards surround him like lilies in a pond, and as Ash fights to free himself he winces as the pieces dig into his skin.

“Ash, stop moving, you’re making it worse,” Pyro instructs, panic disguised under calm orders.

“Ash?” Kaboodle yelps. “As in, Ash Swagg? From Clo--”

“Be quiet for a minute, Kab!” Pyro snaps, because if Ash wasn’t freaking out before he certainly is now.

He doesn’t check to see if Kaboodle is staying still or not, opting instead to hurry towards Ash. He steps gingerly around the broken glass to where Ash is sat on the floor, glaring at Kaboodle despite being trapped in both a blanket and by the glass.

Pyro carefully unwraps the blanket from around Ash, noting that it seems unharmed as so far the only positive of the situation. Ash stands as soon as he is freed, tipping to one side as he had been all day. Pyro suspects it's from the unbalanced weight of his wings, but it could be any number of things.

Kaboodle squeaks when Ash’s wings are revealed, and Ash once more surpasses Pyro’s expectations by managing to glare at her even more.

“You tell anyone, and I will make sure you regret ever saying anything,” Ash threatens, uninjured wing spread and puffed up. 

It is made slightly less intimidating from how he picks a couple pieces of glass out of his skin and the other wing bound to his back, but Kaboodle seems cowed either way.

“I-- I won’t, I swear,” Kaboodle promises, shaking her head furiously. “Sorry. it’s just-- I’ve heard all about you, and--”

“I really do not care,” Ash tells her. “The news can suck it.”

“Right. Yeah. Makes sense, sorry!”

“You seriously cannot tell anyone else,” Pyro tells Kaboodle as he steps away from the glass, voice calm with an undertone of concern. “It will be really, really bad if he goes back to--” Pyro glances at Ash in all of his bravado and notices the minute shaking of his hands. “--him.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, no, I won’t. I don’t-- I don’t want or mean to hurt anyone,” Kaboodle blabbers. “I won’t say anything.”

“Good,” Ash sighs, wing lowering. He carefully moves out of the glass minefield until he is next to Pyro, glancing at him before muttering to Kaboodle:

“You don’t happen to have any medical experience, do you?”

“Oh! Um, no, not really, sorry. Can I, uh, ask why?”

Ash shrugs, then winces. “My one wing is a little hurt. Not much, but y’know. It's inconvenient.”

Pyro turns to him, ready to declare the opposite when he notices Ash’s hands have moved to his pockets. He’s hiding the shakiness of his hands, and Pyro realizes. He’s hiding the extent of the injury.

Ash is hiding the weaknesses.

Pyro turns back towards Kaboodle, nodding in agreement at what Ash said instead.

“I mean, I could try to take a look? I really don’t have much experience with medical stuff, much less bird stuff. Squiddo would probably be better for that, actually,” Kaboodle rambles, and Pyro thinks that she hasn’t fully processed the situation yet. He expects to get quite a few texts the next day about whether or not this really happened, as well as some freaking out about Ash's wings.

“Don’t try, then,” Ash responds. “Who’s Squiddo?”

“They’re another student at the college I attend. They’re majoring in, ah, wildlife biology. They know a lot about birds and bugs, so maybe they could help? Since it’s a wing issue? I could reach out to them, if you want,” Kaboodle tries.

“We’ll see,” Ash says. 

“Kaboodle, is it okay if I talk more with you another time? If I miss work in the future or don’t respond, assume I’m all right unless it’s been like, a week or something,” Pyro says, and Kaboodle nods.

“Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, again. Uh, bye Pyro, then. Bye, Ash,” are Kaboodle’s final words before she leaves Pyro’s apartment.

Pyro locks the doors behind her before turning to Ash.

“So,” he says, for lack of anything better to say.

“So,” Ash copies, for lack of anything better to come up with.

They simply stand and look at each other for a moment before Pyro awkwardly offers, “Do you want to resume the movie now?”

Chapter Text

When the movie finishes it is closer to 9 pm, and Ash is yawning. When Pyro asks if he wants to go to bed, Ash nods. There is a moment of hesitance, a stillness of unmentioned questions and answers. The only one asked is if Ash wants to sleep in the same bed as Pyro again, and it is the only one answered as Ash replies that he does.

It is not a reply that seems comfortable to state, confidence overshadowing awkwardness.

It doesn’t matter, though, because Pyro knows Ash’s preference to not actually say what he wants and can tell when he has to override it to acknowledge true desires.

Pyro considers checking Ash’s wing, but there would be no real result but pain due to Pyro’s lack of knowledge. Kaboodle had mentioned a Squiddo-- Pyro thinks he’s heard of them a couple times. 

Pyro thinks he needs to find a way to convince Ash to let them see him so the wound doesn’t get infected or worse.

It’s not like he’s going to ask then after all that has happened that night, so he lets it fall to the back of his mind until later.

The process of getting ready for bed is fairly quick, especially since Pyro still needs to get Ash a toothbrush of his own. He debates telling Ash to take a shower, but that would once more involve issues with his bound wing, and so Pyro decides that is another topic for the next day.

There are a lot of new debates that Pyro has with himself now that Ash is staying with him. 

When he and Ash get into bed, Pyro notices how Ash still hangs at the edge, albeit not as much as last night.

“You can come closer,” Pyro reminds him, and like last time it is only then that Ash moves nearer.

“You always can,” Pyro adds for future nights. “You don’t have to be half-falling off the bed.”

Ash nods, but his eyes are drooping already and Pyro wonders how much he’s going to have to repeat himself on the matter. He doesn’t mind, though-- repeating himself is very little compared to the extent of what he’d do to help Ash.

Pyro falls asleep soon after as well.

The next morning, Pyro opens his eyes slowly. There is no weight on his chest and legs like yesterday morning, and Pyro blinks sluggishly in a lazy attempt to clear the fatigue. He turns his head to the side Ash has been sleeping on and finds nothing but displaced blankets.

Pyro stares blankly for a moment before the processing kicks in that Ash is not there. 

Logically, Pyro knows distantly, Ash is fine.

Emotionally, much more prominent from just waking up, there are so many ways that Ash could be not fine.

Pyro pulls off the covers and stands quickly, shoving his phone in his pocket. He staggers for a moment from the haze of just waking up before stumbling out of his room, door swinging behind him. 

It takes him a moment to scan the apartment, but he quickly sees Ash standing in the kitchen. It is reminiscent of the first morning, a pattern in development, and Pyro thinks that he probably needs to worry less.

“Morning,” Ash says, and Pyro traipses towards him.

“Good morning,” Pyro mumbles.

“Did you just wake up or something?”

“Yes. You weren’t there, and I was concerned.”

Ash hums some sort of affirmative before turning back to the stovetop. Pyro moves closer, peers over Ash’s shoulder to see what he’s doing.

There are eggs and bacon in the skillet, and Ash prods at them with a spatula. Pyro glances up at Ash quizzically and he shrugs, glancing away.

“You’re letting me stay here and sleep in your bed and all, and that’s not even mentioning all the alley stuff,” Ash mutters. “It's kind of the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to,” Pyro tells him as Ash fidgets with the spatula. “I appreciate you making breakfast, but you are under no obligation to me.”

Ash doesn’t reply to that, instead distributing the bacon and eggs between the two plates on the counter.

“Does it matter which I take?” Pyro asks, and Ash shakes his head.

“Whichever you want.”

Pyro nods, picks a plate at random. Ash takes the other and they move to the table, taking the utensils next to the plates with them.

Pyro doesn’t expect much of the food, since he’s not really sure how much cooking of meals one really does in a lab, and so when it’s surprisingly good he glances up at Ash.

“This is amazing,” Pyro tells him, and Ash grins.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I cooked a lot for my family--”

His smile falters, but he shakes his head minutely as if to clear it.

“That’s nice,” Pyro says, and he does not mention the look of loss in Ash’s eyes. He does not know if they are truly gone or rather if Ash sees them that way, whether from his wings or a different reason, but in any case he does not push. 

“Yeah,” Ash agrees. “It was.”

They finish the rest of their meal in quiet.

When it is done, Ash stands, collects the plates, takes them to the kitchen. He isn’t tilting as much when he moves, Pyro notices, and he can’t tell if that’s good or not. While it’s nice to not be off-balance all the time, Pyro is concerned about Ash’s body getting used to his wing being wrong.

The thought of calling Squiddo flashes once more in Pyro’s head, and he resolves to bring it up to Ash that day.

In the present, Pyro follows Ash into the kitchen.

“You cooked, so I can do the dishes,” Pyro says, and Ash glances at him.

“You sure?”

“I am. It makes sense as a system, right?”

“You’ve done a lot more for me, though,” Ash says. “And I haven’t really repaid it.”

“What do you mean?” Pyro asks, collecting the pan and spatula and taking them to the sink.

“You’re the only reason I’m not dead,” Ash begins bluntly, and Pyro can’t help but wince. “So there’s that, and all the alley stuff, and then the wings and not telling people about the lab and letting me stay here and eat your food. And--” Ash falters, and Pyro glances at him from where he is leaned over the sink and scrubbing dishes.

“I do keep ruining your things,” Ash admits. Barrelling on before Pyro can stop him, he continues, “Your towel, your scissors, the vase and the flowers…”

Ash takes the drying towel from where it hangs, wiping the wetness off the cleaned spatula Pyro had just placed on the counter.

Pyro lets him.

“I suppose you are correct in that I have done more for you, but relationships are not an exactly split 50-50,” Pyro says. “I helped you because I didn’t want to see you hurt or suffering. My choices do not mean that you owe me anything. You could walk out of here right now and my only concern would be of your safety, not whether or not you have paid me back.”

Ash is quiet as he dries the pan. His silence continues as he places the pan and spatula back where he found them and rehangs the towel. Pyro is quiet as well, allowing Ash all the time he needs to process.

“Thank you,” Ash settles on.

“Of course,” Pyro replies, and these types of things keep repeating themselves over and over. It’s okay. Pyro simply wishes that one day Ash doesn’t feel the need to thank him for such simple things.

“Although,” Pyro hesitantly begins, and maybe that was the wrong way to start based on how Ash’s head snaps to him but it’s a bit too late now, “there is something I wanted to talk with you about.”

“And what’s that?” Ash questions, wariness filling his tone.

Pyro definitely should not have started with that.

“I want you to see Squiddo,” he rushes. “I am in no way qualified to help you with your wing, and I am seriously concerned about the damage that could occur if it continues untreated. I know that you want to get use out of your wings if you have to have them, and I fear if your left wing doesn’t get fixed then you never will.”

Ash looks at him for a long moment, and Pyro cannot quite tell what is happening behind his calculating gaze.

“Okay,” Ash finally says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. If this Squiddo swears not to tell anyone then, uh, they can come over. And fix it.” Ash pauses, then as if something has occurred to him. “Would they, um, charge you anything?”

“Squiddo? No, I don’t think so. And if they did, then it wouldn’t really matter.”

Ash shakes his head at that. “I’ll only see them if it’s free. I fucked myself up. You shouldn’t have to pay to fix that.”

“You didn’t seem to care about the cost of things when I was bringing you things in the alley,” Pyro says, confusion sharp in the change.

“I didn’t care about very much other than survival then,” Ash replies. “Now you’ve, like, done shit for me, and-- I don’t know. I just-- you shouldn’t have to keep paying for my mistakes.”

Silence always seems to be a prominent part of the conversation whenever they have these types of talks. Ash looks deeply uncomfortable with his confessions, and Pyro can’t exactly blame him. He doesn’t exactly love emotional topics either.

“We’ll see what Squiddo says,” Pyro settles on. “I’ll start to draft a message to them.”

Ash nods, says, “All right.. Mind if I read it before you send it?”

“I wouldn’t send it without your approval.”

Chapter Text

In order to get Squiddo’s number, Pyro had to text Kae. As he’d expected, there were a myriad of messages from her regarding Ash and whether or not she had really seen him there and if he actually had wings and whether or not she was just mixing reality with fiction again. Before asking for Squiddo’s number, he’d made sure to reply to her reassuring her that it was all real, knowing she often struggled with what were dreams and what was reality even without a man with wings.

The next highest contact was Win, as Pyro had informed him last night that he again would not be able to come into work that day, but would be back on Monday. Win had once more replied with just an affirmative emoji, but Pyro didn’t really mind. It’s not like he would have truthfully answered any questions Win posed anyways.

It’s not that he wants to leave Ash alone after what happened yesterday, but he can’t keep taking time off work, especially not with the additional costs of Ash living there.

Once he got Squiddo’s number from Kae, he and Ash begin to work on the message. After a few minutes of deliberation, it ended up reading something along the lines of Pyro knowing someone whose bird got attacked and how part of its wing is now detached, and could Squiddo please come see what they could do to fix it and would it cost anything.

Pyro had tried to make it the least of a lie as possible. Technically, he knows himself, and Ash is somewhat of a bird, and he did get attacked, even if it was by himself. He figures it makes it easier to explain the truth after.

Squiddo seemed to not notice the slightly odd phrasing, instead replying that of course they could and they would bring medical equipment, and it would be for free since it’s good practice. They asked a couple more questions about the ‘bird,’ but Pyro simply replied that it was too complicated to explain and would be easier to show her in person and pictures didn’t do justice.

Squiddo didn’t seem thrilled by their lack of knowledge going into it, but they still agreed to come over that day. They said they’d be there at three, and as the clock ticked from 2:51 to 2:52 Pyro watched Ash’s wings fluff up more and more.

Pyro doesn't even think Ash’s noticed. Ash is sitting on the couch and staring out the window, hands twisted together tightly but otherwise motionless.

It’s understandable, though. He hadn’t wanted Kae to know, or even Pyro. Pyro can’t imagine how nerve-wracking it must be to allow someone to see him after fighting to be hidden for so long.

(And again, for good reason, for from how Ash acts Pyro doesn’t want anybody mentioning anything about him in fear of Clown finding out.)

“Ash?” Pyro asks, and Ash’s head jerks to him, startled.

“My apologies,” Pyro says, lowering the hands he hadn’t even realized he’d sprung up. “I simply wanted to tell you that there’s about five minutes left until they’re here, and maybe bring you back to reality a bit. You looked like you were zoning out.”

“Yeah,” Ash sighs, and his breathing seems heavy. “Just, y’know. It’s--” and he hesitates, warring between himself on how much to show. “--unsettling,” he decided.

“I can see why,” Pyro nods. He is about to say something more, but then the doorbell rings and Ash freezes again, color draining from his face before he shakes his head, stands to face the door with his wings tucked behind him.

“I suppose they’re early,” Pyro comments, more to himself than anything because Ash doesn’t exactly seem responsive. 

“Do you want me to introduce the issue?” Pyro asks, a last question in the moment before he steps forward.

To his surprise, Ash shakes his head. 

“No,” he says. “No, I-- it’s important, I think, that I do it.”

“All right then,” Pyro replies, and walks to the door.

When he opens it, Squiddo is standing there as expected. They smile at him, hands on the straps of a green backpack that Pyro assumes holds the medical supplies.

“Hello!” they greet. “I’m Squiddo-- the real one!”

“Hello,” Pyro replies, slightly confused. Kae hadn’t told him anything about them except that they were studying birds and bugs, and he suddenly feels like he perhaps may not be as well equipped as he thought he was. “I’m Pyro-- also the real one, I suppose?”

“Very nice to meet you!” they nod. “Er, can I come in?”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Pyro says, stepping aside to allow them in. He glances at Ash, standing in the living room with his golden blanket around his shoulders masking his wings.

“I’m Ash,” he says.

“Hello! I’m Squiddo, the real one!”

Pyro’s starting to wonder if they actually introduce themself to everyone like that.

“So, uh, Ash, are you the one who has the injured bird?” they question, stepping in further and glancing around Pyro’s appointment.

Pyro subtly shuts the door, walking up to match Squiddo.

“Uh. Kind of,” Ash replies eloquently. “Well, uh-- oh, fuck it.”

He yanks the blanket off, tossing it onto the couch as he spreads his right wing out. Ash stares at Squiddo unwaveringly, but Pyro notices his hands in his pockets again and how his eyebrows twist slightly more into fear than stoicness.

“Oh, my gosh!” Squiddo exclaims, eyes trailing over Ash’s feathers. “Wait, why’s there only one?”

“...I’m the bird.”

“OH!”

“Yeah.”

“Well, uh, oh my gosh you actually have wings that is so cool. Okay. Um, I was told it was a bird so I brought bird sized supplies? I can see what I can do though!” Squiddo exclaims, fingers tapping an excited pattern against her backpack straps, a drastic contrast to how still Ash is standing.

“You can’t tell anybody,” Ash warns. “Like, genuinely. Kae is the only other person who knows and unless you want some really bad shit to happen it’s gotta stay that way.”

“Well, duh!” Squiddo grins. “When you see Herobrine you don’t go telling everyone exactly where you found him or how to summon him.”

“What?” Ash asks.

“Exactly! Now, where do you want to go for me to see your wings?”

Ash glances at Pyro, a silent observer for most of the interaction.

“The bathroom?” Pyro offers. “That’s where I’ve been doing most of the medical stuff.”

“Sounds good,” Squiddo chirps. “How much medical experience do you have?”

Pyro glances down, taking the opportunity to start walking towards the bathroom rather than continuing the conversation fully.

“None,” he answers despite himself. “There wasn’t really another way at the time, though.”

“Yeah,” Squiddo sighs. “I understand that. Happens a lot with this stuff.”

“This stuff?”

“Did you not know?” Squiddo asks, following him along with a quiet Ash. “I do a lot with the inhuman. I thought that’s why you texted me?”

“No, that’s simply a stroke of good luck. Kae just told us you study birds and bugs.”

“She undersold me, then! I’m the real Squiddo, after all,” Squiddo says with a smile as they reach the bathroom. Pyro’s beginning to come up with some theories on why they call themself the real one, but this isn’t the time.

Pyro lingers at the doorway to give them and Ash enough space-- it’s not a particularly large bathroom, after all.

Ash sits at the edge of the tub as has become near-routine, removing his shirt so Squiddo could fully see his back.

“Oh,” is the first thing Squiddo says, and Pyro’s heart sinks a bit.

“Ash, is it okay if I touch you and remove the bandage and stuff?” they ask, hands hovering by his back.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he answers.

Squiddo unwraps the bandage from around his chest that had been binding the wing in place, letting them drop to the floor.

“Gonna move your wing,” they warn before doing so, unfolding it carefully and spreading it out as much as they can before Ash grimaces. They examine it, inspecting how part of the wing is completely disconnected from his back.

“How did this even happen?” Squiddo questions.

“Scissors,” Ash mutters.

“Ah,” they nod. “Yeah, it didn’t look like a clean cut.”

They look at it more, turning it slightly and investigating more.

“Right,” Squiddo says. “I’m definitely going to need human-sized equipment for this, and it’s going to need stitches, and then you’re going to need to be very careful with it.”

“Will I be able to fly?” Ash asks, voice carefully monotone.

Squiddo hesitates, and Pyro’s stomach drops a bit, waves of cold dread enveloping him.

“I don’t know,” they settle on. “It’s really not in great shape, especially since it’s been disconnected for so long. You might be able to with a specialized training plan-- and I’d be happy to make that for you-- but I can’t exactly say for sure yet?I can come back tomorrow with supplies, I have a friend who’s in medical that I can get some from, and then I can stitch it and we can see how it goes?”

It’s quiet.

And then Ash sighs, and asks, “Would it be better to just cut them off entirely?”

Chapter Text

Pyro stares at Squiddo. Squiddo’s gaze is fixed on Ash’s back, consideration framing their face.

“No, I don’t think that would be better,” they decide, speaking slowly as they think through what they’re saying. Pyro watches Ash slump, wings faltering and falling forwards.

“Even if you can’t fly-- maybe you can though, we don’t know-- there’s other uses,” Squiddo says.

“Like what?” Ash sighs, gaze fixated on the bathtub. Pyro thinks so, at least. With his back turned, it’s difficult to see more than a sliver of his face.

“Well, they’re good for balance,” Squiddo says. “When they’re both fully attached, at least. Plus if you didn’t have them, it would still feel like you had them and that would be uncomfortable. Y'know, phantom limb issues and all that. Going along with that, based on some studies I’ve seen, you might feel like something is missing. Like, there’s always something wrong, and I can’t imagine that would be especially fun long-term.”

“You could also hit people with them,” Pyro offers, pandering in an attempt to cheer Ash up. “Or hide under them, if you wanted. Especially at night.”

Ash gives a faint nod, which is more of a response than Pyro was really expecting.

“Actually,” Squiddo hums. “Even if your wing is too messed up to be able to fly, I’ve got a couple friends who’d find it really exciting to design an assistant prosthetic?”

“All right,” Ash says, and he sounds rather resigned but at least not devastated. Pyro thinks Ash might’ve known this would be the verdict.

“I appreciate it,” Ash adds, appreciation in his tone, albeit fake. (Not as in Ash not meaning it. but as in having to convince himself that the offerings were positive.)

“Of course!” Squiddo grins. “I’ll rewrap your wing until tomorrow, if that’s all right? I really want the separated part to be as close to where it’s supposed to be as possible.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Ash says. “Thank you for, uh, fixing this, and all. For free, too.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, really,” Squiddo says. “I could even use this for my next paper-- saying you were just a regular bird, of course,” they clarify after seeing Ash and Pyro’s anxious expressions.

“Glad it could be a mutually beneficial occasion,” Pyro replies.

“Me too! Pyro, could you pass me some clean bandages?”

“Sure.”

He hands them to Squiddo, who begins to wrap them around Ash’s torso to keep his injured wing in place.

“Part of what I’ll bring tomorrow is better bandages,” Squiddo says. “Because these are great for regular injuries and all, but for bird wings and binding stuff you want a different type.”

“All right,” Pyro replies, and he hopes that he’s kept the wavering out of his voice enough because if it is his poor medical skills that lead Ash to being flightless he isn’t sure what he’ll do.

Feel awful, definitely.

Pyro doesn’t know what he’d do in terms of actions, though.

Squiddo finishes wrapping Ash’s bandages, then stands.

“Ash, you can put your shirt on,” they direct. As he does so, Squiddo stretches, pulling their hands above their head before reaching down to retrieve their backpack from where they had set it out of the way.

“Well, there really isn’t much more I can do now, so I’ll be off,” Squiddo says. “What time works for me to come back tomorrow to stitch it up and all?”

Ash glances at Pyro for an answer. It’s the beginning of a habit, one Pyro wants to curb as quickly as he can before the pattern fully develops.

For now, Pyro says, “Would around three pm work?”

Squiddo agrees, and Pyro escorts them to the door. Ash follows, hangs back and out of sight as Pyro opens the door.

“Goodbye, Squiddo,” Pyro says, and Ash parrots him from behind.

“Bye, Pyro! Bye,--” Squiddo cuts themself off, glances around, and then simply waves in Ash’s general direction before turning and leaving.

Pyro shuts and locks the door, turning around to see a faint smile on Ash’s face.

“I like them,” Ash decides.

“Oh?”

“Not like that. It’s just-- they’re nice. And they know what they’re dealing with with all--” Ash gestures at his wings. “--this. And I can appreciate that.”

“Well, that’s good then,” Pyro replies. “It certainly makes it easier to have them return to fix your wings and all.”

Ash nods, then glances around, hands twitching.

“Anything I can do?” he asks, and Pyro can’t help but glance away for a moment. One day Ash will stop feeling like he owes him everything.

Today is not that day, though, and so Pyro makes a note to try to think of ways to help before saying,

“You could help me make some grilled cheeses.”

And that is how they end up in the kitchen, Ash pulling on a heat glove to take the sandwiches out of the oven as Pyro puts away the butter and other ingredients.

It is fairly domestic, and Pyro can’t help but enjoy the rare moment of peace. It sounds silly when he has a man with wings living in his house, but he enjoys the moments of normalcy.

Although, as happens when you have a man with wings living in your house, normalcy does not last long.

When Pyro turns around from putting the cheese away, Ash is standing in front of the oven near-motionless, one wrist clenched in the other hand and an unreadable expression on his face. Yet, the sandwiches are perfectly situated, the pan neatly on the top of the stove, and the spatula nicely on the holder, no sign of disaster visible except for Ash and his slightly puffed wings.

“Ash? Are you all right?” Pyro asks, stepping closer, then pausing when Ash steps ever so slightly back in response.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ash replies, but his tone reminds Pyro far too much of him calling out not to open the door, although with an undertone he cannot place.

Ash is still holding his own hand.

“Can I see your arm?” Pyro asks, and Ash shrugs, shakes his head slightly.

“There’s nothing to see,” he replies, and turns to glance at the grilled cheeses, smoke rising from them from the hot pan.

Ash glances back at Pyro once more before dropping his right arm to the side, using his left hand to take the spatula, delivering each sandwich onto a plate Pyro had set out.

From what Pyro has observed, Ash is right-handed.

Pyro is on Ash’s left, but as Ash turns to move the grilled cheeses he catches a glimpse of Ash’s right arm, and he can’t help but wince.

“Ash, please let me see your arm,” Pyro requests again, slightly firmer out of concern. Ash glances at him, before his expression drops into the resigned one Pyro has grown to hate through all the times he has seen it.

“All right,” he sighs, setting down the spatula before offering Pyro his arm, palm-up. Pyro turns it over to see the back of his wrist where he had seen the burn.

It is in a crescent shape, on the side of Ash’s wrist and curling onto the top of his hand. Pyro brings up his other hand to hold Ash’sarml, gently turning it to each side to see the injury better.

It didn’t look awful, as it was probably only a first-degree burn, maybe a mild second-degree one, but Pyro still isn’t thrilled about it.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Pyro instructs. He’s going to have to buy more medical supplies after everything Ash has gotten himself into.

(That sounds unfair. Pyro can’t bring himself to blame Ash for any of it. It’s difficult for him to blame Ash for much.)

“Hold your arm under the water,” Pyro says, having turned the tap to cool water as he rummages in the medicine cabinet.

Ash does, and Pyro retrieves petroleum jelly and a bandage from the cabinet.

He sets a timer on his phone for ten minutes before turning back to Ash.

“What happened?” Pyro asks, and Ash shrugs.

“I was taking the sandwiches out, and my arm hit the top of the oven,” he says.

“Why didn’t you say anything? It’s not good to leave burns untreated.”

“It isn’t that bad,” Ash defends. “It’s barely anything.”

The wound is decidedly not barely anything. While it certainly isn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it is still carved into the side of his wrist, and Pyro thinks he sees a blister forming.

“Was it an accident?” Pyro asks, hesitant to ask.

“Of course it was an accident,” Ash grumbles. “You try to cut off your wings for practicality once, and…” He trails off then, muttering a couple more words under his breath before shaking his head a bit as if to clear his thoughts.

“Although,” Ash begins, and he doesn’t look at Pyro.

It’s quiet for a moment, and Pyro gives Ash time to think of whatever he’s trying to say. A deer, working up the courage to come closer. A human, not daring to move and scare it off.

“Have you ever, uh. Been so cold that you kind of get over it over time? Like, you’re always really cold, and you’re just kind of used to it? And when you shower you set it as hot as you can without hurting and you only feel a normal temperature?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Pyro responds, glancing warily at Ash.

“Well. Uh. Yeah. And, when I got burnt-- although I swear it was an accident, like, I’m not lying about that-- the extreme heat of it-- it, uh, kind of felt good? I didn’t feel cold. For the first time since all of the wing stuff happened,” Ash finishes, and Pyro glances at the cool tap water washing away the effects of the burn.

Chapter Text

‘Felt good,’ Ash had said. For a moment Pyro doubts himself and his ears, but the memory of Ash’s voice rings too clear in his mind for it to be a hallucination. It is an extreme reaction, one end of the spectrum balancing another in a shaky middle.

He wishes it was lesser, wishes so much of what Ash has been through was lesser. Ash has dealt with so much already. Pyro wishes he would stop putting himself through more.

(He can’t blame him too much. He trusts that it was an accident. He cannot trust whatever reason Ash had for hiding the injury, nor what happened so as to why he’s so cold.

Ash stares resolutely at the sink, and his fingers twitch under the water.

Pyro can’t tell if it’s a fidget or pain.

He hates that he can’t. He hates that he didn’t notice Ash’s apparently constant discomfort.

It’s quiet. Agonizingly so, almost, as Pyro hunts for what to say and Ash stays hesitant.

Pyro used to like quiet. It was peaceful, a product of comfort in being alone. And yet, ever since he met Ash it’s felt more oppressing.

As Ash shakes his head, Pyro is shaken from his thoughts.

“Nevermind. It’s-- it’s stupid,” Ash starts, the beginning of something longer, but Pyro cuts him off.

“It’s not stupid, Ash,” Pyro sighs. “No part of your issues is stupid. We can find a way to help you with that. Like, ah, heating pads, and asking Squiddo if they know anything.”

It’s not much. It’s barely anything. And yet:

“You shouldn’t have to, though,” Ash grumbles. “None of this should be happening.”

“And yet it is.”

Silence stretches between them yet again, a tense undertone. Pyro vaguely wonders if he should've said something different, been more comforting. Except Ash doesn’t seem to care much for comforting, and so hopefully it’s okay. It's too late now to amend it.

 A minute later, Pyro shatters the silence.

“I think you can move your arm now.”

It is night. Later than Pyro’s been going to bed lately, as it is closer to eleven PM than ten. Ash has a bandage along the side of his wrist, but his fingernails keep gravitating to it anyways. Pyro is already changed into his pajamas, sat on the side of his bed. Ash is changing in the bathroom into the same clothes he wore to sleep last night, and Pyro types a note into his phone about buying him some more clothes.

And then Pyro thinks about the cost, and thinks about possibly picking up more shifts at the cafe, especially if he’s going to be supporting two people for the foreseeable future. He knows Ash wants to be helpful, and he considers some form of online job.

Pyro’s certain they exist, and certain Ash would jump at the opportunity to give something back to Pyro.

Except Pyro doesn’t want Ash to feel like he has to contribute in order to stay. Ash is welcome no matter if he pays for anything or not, even though an extra source of income to support two people would be nice.

Pyro talks himself in circles in his head, working through the same arguments and counterpoints until Ash pads in, socks quiet against the floor.

Pyro clears his mind then, shifting the thoughts to the side. It can wait until tomorrow at the very least. 

He crawls into bed and under the covers, Ash following only moments behind. Pyro is worn out, conversations and thoughts tiring him.

He falls asleep quickly.

Ash apparently does not, because Pyro stirs sleepily, eyes blinking open to find empty space next to him. He hazily wonders how many times until something becomes a pattern, except for when he rolls over the clock shows it’s still night.

Wiping sleep from his eyes, Pyro stands, making his way to the cracked open door. He peers through the opening, careful not to creak the door.

Ash is in his living room, blanket over him as he faces the window. The curtains are open, a characteristic Ash must have given them because Pyro has been diligent about keeping them shut for fear of Ash being found out.

As Pyro is thinking through whether or not he should stop Ash or not, Ash turns from the window, and brings a hand to his face. He trembles for a moment, and Pyro turns away.

It’s not his place.

His place is in bed, under his blankets and asleep.

(So is Ash’s, but he doesn’t seem ready for it. Pyro can understand it. If he had been through all Ash has, he thinks he would be curled in a blanket on the floor in the middle of the night too.)

And so Pyro falls back asleep, ignorance being the highest form of care sometimes.

In the morning, Pyro does not mention it. He doesn’t think Ash would want him to. It goes against himself, against the part of his mind wanting to fix the issue instead of letting it possibly fester, but he reminds himself that time to oneself is important.

It’s still difficult.

The morning is uneventful. Ash and Pyro have breakfast, and Pyro checks on the burn on Ash’s wrist. It seems like it will heal by itself without much issue, and so Pyro just puts a fresh bandage on it. He’s admittedly relieved that it isn’t anything more severe, as most things with Ash are trending towards.

After Pyro does, Ash takes a shower and changes into more clean clothes Pyro lends him. Pyro really needs to go clothes shopping for him soon. And get him a toothbrush. And get him various other items.

It’s starting to feel less temporary. Pyro thinks he’s okay with it.

With little else to do until Squiddo arrives, Pyro asks Ash if he’d like to play a game while they wait.

“What do you have?” Ash asks, and Pyro leads him to the cabinet in the living room, opening it to reveal a myriad of card and board games. Ash’s gaze catches, and Pyro follows it to see UNO.

Ash reaches out to it, picks it up gingerly.

“My family and I would play UNO together a lot,” Ash says, and Pyro listens attentively despite his surprise at the mention. “Our box was a lot more beat-up, though-- or, ‘well-loved,’ as my mom would say. My sisters especially liked it. Sometimes we’d play ‘cheat UNO.’ I was always really good at that.”

As Pyro is silent for a moment, trying to find the words, a grin forms on Ash’s face.

“How about I show you the beauty of cheat UNO?” Ash suggests.

This is how Ash and Pyro become seated at the kitchen table across from each other, piles of cards on the table and in their hands. Ash has a hand of two, while Pyro sports five.

Cheat UNO, as it turns out, is exactly what it sounds like. If you have two of the same card, you can play them at once and pass them off as one. Draw four card? You can guess if they have any of the original card or not, and if they do, they have to take eight. And then there’s at least ten more ways to get away with other things the official UNO rule book would shun.

Pyro thinks it would be more accurately titled ‘house rules UNO,’ but he suspects the idea of getting to ‘cheat’ is part of the fun.

Pyro plays a red five, and it is Ash’s turn. Ash grins at him from over his cards, and Pyro thinks that perhaps he shouldn't have made that move. Just as Ash reaches for a card, there is a knock on the front door.

Pyro stares at Ash for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll forfeit the win for who is presumably Squiddo.

“Shouldn’t you check the door?” Ash says, and Pyro thinks he’s probably already lost.

“Just play quickly,” Pyro resigns.

Ash does, because his whole hand is empty in a moment with twin red threes.

“Good game,” Pyro sighs, lighthearted with a smile.

“See how awesome cheat UNO is now?” Ash grins, collecting the cards into two neat decks.

“It is fun,” Pyro admits, standing to answer the door. “I’ll beat you next time, though.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Pyro peers through the peephole, checking to ensure it is Squiddo. They stand at the door, fidgeting with the straps of their backpack. Their eye catches onto Pyro’s gaze through the tiny window, and they wave.

Pyro opens the door for them, waving back awkwardly.

“Hello, Pyro!” Squiddo greets.

“Hello, Squiddo,” Pyro replies. He shuts the door behind them, and they exchange hellos with Ash as well.

“Okay,” Squiddo says. “I got some supplies from a med student friend of mine, Circe, so this should go better this time. You ready, Ash?”

“Sure,” Ash replies, sounding less-than-thrilled. Pyro can’t blame him, because stitching his wing back to his skin doesn’t sound fun.

“Do you have any painkillers or anything?” Pyro asks, concerned.

“Oh, yeah! I've got a topical numbing cream that should help and then I brought stuff to take after and all. It’s, uh, well, it’s not going to be the same level of quality you’d get in a hospital, but I’m pretty sure you knew that already.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Ash says. “Thanks, Squiddo.”

“Of course! This is really interesting to me, plus I get a paper out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Ash nods, asks, “Where’s going to be best to do this?”

“Well, it's going to be best if you’re laying on your stomach, so somewhere that’s going to be comfortable to do that, but a firm surface so you aren’t moving too much while I work. Also maybe a towel under? Just because there might be some blood.”

“How’s the living room floor with a blanket?” Pyro asks, and Ash nods.

“All right,” Ash agrees, voice tilting anxiously.

Pyro steps over to the couch, removing a random thick blanket he doesn’t care too much about. It’s been there for years, and Pyro can’t even remember where he got it.

He lays it out flat on the empty space on the floor nearby, then quickly retrieves an equally old towel from the linen closet. When he returns, Ash is lowering himself onto the blanket, his shirt next to him on the floor so Squiddo can easily reach his back.

Squiddo themself is kneeled next to him, rummaging through their backpack and placing items on a couple paper towels they’ve set on the floor. When they see Pyro approaching, they give him a small smile.

“You can just set the towel next to me here,” they say, and Pyro does so.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks, and Squiddo performs an odd mixture of a shrug and head shake.

“Just be nearby, I guess, in case I need anything,” they say, and Pyro nods.

“Right, Ash,” Squiddo starts, and Pyro hangs back to give them space.

“I’m going to undo your bandages, all right?”

“All right,” Ash parrots, adding, “You don’t have to narrate everything you do, by the way. Just, uh, do what needs to be done. Let me know when you’re doing the stitches part, though.”

“Sounds good,” Squiddo nods. “Prop yourself on your elbows for a sec?”

Ash does, and Squiddo carefully unwraps the old bandages, discarding them in a pile next to them.

“Okay, now lay down flat on your stomach,” they instruct. Once Ash has, they squeeze what Pyro assumes is the numbing cream onto the areas surrounding where the wing is separated from skin.

They wait a few minutes after that, moving stuff from their bag to the paper towels. Pyro notes a needle and thread, specifically. Eventually, Squiddo moves the towel Pyro had let them borrow to slightly over Ash’s back, falling over his side and onto the floor.

They thread the needle, then set it aside. Squiddo reaches out a hand, pokes Ash’s back. 

“Can you feel that?” they ask.

“I don’t know what you’re referencing,” Ash replies, voice muffled from how his face is against the blanket.

“Perfect,” Squiddo replies. They pick up the needle, then announce, “I’m going to start sewing your wing back now, okay?”

“Okay,” Ash confirms, and Squiddo begins. Pyro doesn’t watch, mostly because despite how he knows it’s helping Ash it still looks kind of grotesque. He glances at Ash’s face, and Ash doesn’t seem to be in pain. If anything, his expression is only one of maybe mild discomfort.

Pyro doesn’t know how long it is until Squiddo says, “Okay.”

When he glances at them, they are tying off a knot and Ash’s wing is secured to his back once more.

“Stitches are done,” they tell Ash. “You can sit up, but go slow. It’s going to feel kind of weird for a while, especially as you start regaining feeling.”

Ash raises himself slowly, tilting to the left from the unexpected weight before righting himself. He twists his neck, glancing at his back. Ash is facing away from Pyro so he can’t see his expression, but Pyro can guess.

“Okay, so don’t get it wet for 48 hours,” Squiddo instructs. “After 24 hours, wash around it with clean water twice a day. Petroleum jelly is going to be your best friend, and you’re going to want to cover the area with that after you clean it. Try to use that wing as little as possible for the next three days or so, and I’ll need to come back in a week or two to remove the first layer of stitches.”

Ash stares at them with a somewhat blank expression and they add, “I’ll text the instructions to Pyro so you don’t have to try to remember all that. Oh! Actually, do you have a phone? Then I can just text you.”

“Uh, no, I don’t,” Ash says, and Squiddo nods. 

“Okay, that’s fine, I just wanted to check.”

“Ash, if you have an email you can use my phone for it,” Pyro suggests. “Or you can make a new one, it’s really easy.”

“Oh, yeah!” Squiddo nods. “I’ll text Pyro until then, but if you get that set up then let me know.”

“Sounds good,” Ash replies. “You’d mentioned pain meds earlier?”

“Yep, I’ve got them right here…” Squiddo trails off as they search through their bag before pulling out a pill bottle. “Take one every eight hours or so for 48 hours. If you wait longer, don’t worry, and just do it when you can. Even if it doesn’t hurt then, it will eventually, and a continuous dose will help more than taking it as-needed.”

“Got it,” Ash says. “Thank you, Squiddo. Really.”

“Of course!” Squiddo exclaims. “Oh, I do have some good news, though. Based on how I was able to reattach your wing, I do think you’re going to be able to fly. It’s going to be more difficult, for sure, but I think you can probably do it. If you want, I could write up a training plan and send it to you.”

Pyro glances at Ash, and he seems frozen, shock and traces of excitement covering his face.

“I think we’d appreciate that, yes,” Pyro responds, stilted in his own surprise. Ash nods along, and Pyro can feel joy spreading in his chest. He’d had no idea on if Ash;s wings would be functional enough for flying or not, and he can’t imagine how Ash feels about it.

“Thank you,” Ash says. “Like, seriously, holy shit thank you, Squiddo.”

“Of course,” they grin. “I’m happy to help.” They begin to pick up their bag, but Pyro interrupts.

“Oh, um, Squiddo, I had a couple questions before you went,” Pyro says, and Ash glances up at him quizzically.

“Oh, sure,” Squiddo says. “What’s up?”

“Is there some kind of bird thing where they get really sick-- like, unconscious sick-- and then are fine less than 24 hours later?”

Squiddo hums, glancing in the distance. “No, not that I can think of,” they eventually answer. “Why?”

“It happened,” Ash replies bluntly. “I was really incoherent sometime in the middle of the night, Pyro found me that evening and took me here, and I fell asleep and when I woke up in the morning I was fine.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t know why that would happen,” Squiddo says, confusion evident in their drawl. “Maybe it’s the result of being part bird and part human?”

“Maybe,” Ash says, shoulders twitching as if about to shrug but stopping himself.

“What was the other question?” Squiddo asks.

“Oh, ah. Is there any reason that a bird would be cold constantly?”

“...no,” Squiddo answers after a moment of pondering. “No, I really can’t think of anything for that either. I know a lot of bird stuff, but obviously this case is really unusual. Sorry I can’t help more.”

“It’s all right,” Pyro says.

“Thanks for all you’ve done, Squiddo,” Ash says.

“Of course! I’ll be back in… how does the 25th sound?” Squiddo suggests, and Pyro does the math in his head. Ten days from then.

“That works, I think,” Ash says, glancing to Pyro.

“It’s your stitches,” Pyro tells him.

“It’s your apartment,” Ash refutes, and while true it still reminds Pyro far too much of an anxious teenager confirming with their parent they can do something for fear of getting in trouble.

After a moment, Pyro gives in. A conversation for another time. “The 25th works,” he affirms.

“Great,” Squiddo grins. “If you need anything, just let me know. I might not be available on the 31st, what with it being Halloween and all, though. The spirit realm being more accessible that day and all that.”

They smile as if Pyro and Ash know exactly what they’re talking about, and Pyro simply nods along.

“We will,” Pyro says, and Squiddo slings their backpack over their shoulder, having cleaned up their stuff.

“Bye, then!” they say, turning towards the door. 

“Bye, Squiddo,” Ash says, standing and stepping to the side so as to not be visible when the door opens.

“Goodbye,” Pyro adds, opening the door as Squiddo steps through. They wave, then walk away, and Pyro shuts and locks the door behind them.

Chapter Text

When Pyro turns back to Ash, he’s twisted around, neck craned in what Pyro assumes is an attempt to see how his wings connect. It looks awkward, especially with his left wing limp on the floor from Squiddo telling Ash not to use it.

Pyro wonders if he could make something for Ash, like a sling or a modified version of the bindings from before, but it’s a matter for another time because Ash looks like he’s going to sprain his neck from how it’s contorted.

“I could just take a picture to show you what it looks like,” Pyro offers, and Ash twists back to face him so quickly Pyro wonders if he gave himself whiplash.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Ash hesitates. “Isn’t there some way that someone could get into your photos?”

Pyro hums, saying, “Not that I know of unless someone confiscates it. Or, I suppose if they hacked it…” He trails off at Ash shaking his head.

“Let’s not risk that,” he says, and Pyro nods.

“Right. Well, uh, I think I still have a mechanical camera from my college days,” Pyro offers. “There shouldn’t be any way for anyone else to access it except for if they stole it.”

“All right,” Ash settles, although he still seems anxious. Pyro doesn’t blame him. And then,

“I didn’t know you went to college.”

“Oh, yeah. It was actually the same one Kab and Squiddo are at! Well, kind of. It was more of the trade division, I suppose.”

“What did you study?”

“Mechanical engineering,” Pyro answers, a faint smile on his face. “I really enjoyed it. That camera is one I took apart and put together at least twenty times to figure out how it worked for myself and as practice.”

Ash hums. “Why not work somewhere you could apply those skills, then? I wouldn’t think a coffee shop would have the most engineering capabilities.”

“It doesn’t,” Pyro admits. “But I’ve sent my resume everywhere around town, and it’s either been rejected or the place isn’t hiring, so I’m sort of just waiting.”

Ash nods vaguely, but his gaze has slipped past Pyro to the wall behind him, and the flicker of movement in the corner of Pyro’s eye is Ash’s index finger tapping against his leg.

Pyro waits, patient to allow Ash the time to think through whatever he is. Usually this sort of abstract expression and silence means Ash is pondering something, and interrupting it only delays.

Finally, Ash asks, “Do you think you’d move, then? Find somewhere where you can put your degree to use?”

Ah. 

“I don’t know,” Pyro answers, honest, even as he wishes he had a better answer for Ash, one he’d like better. “I certainly don’t think I’ll stay here for the rest of my life.” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to just abandon you,” Pyro adds hastily as he sees Ash’s expression. “If I did move, we’d figure something out. I wouldn’t just leave you here, Ash.”

Ash’s face is neutral, and if Pyro’s assuaged his fears at all then it isn’t showing. Pyro isn’t sure Ash believes him, but in a way he gets it; he isn’t sure he’d fully believe himself either if he was in Ash’s situation.

“I’m going to go get the camera,” Pyro says, excusing himself to his room to look for it.

It’s only later that he realizes the irony of leaving Ash alone in that moment.

Now, though, Pyro rummages through his closet. There’s a box full of various tinkering projects he worked on in college, and Pyro finds it tucked behind a bag of crystals he forgot he had. He pulls it out, setting various WORD (i write ‘word’ or something like that when i need a placeholder and cant think of a word. usually this gets fixed in editing) aside until he finds what he’s looking for.

Pyro’s long forgotten the brand of the camera, but he still remembers all 27 parts and what they do. His thumb rubs fondly against the exterior of the camera, letting himself linger before pushing himself to his feet.

When he returns to the living room, Ash is where he left him. He glances at Pyro from where he stands, wings twitching a bit. Pyro guesses it’s from how they’re laid on the floor, but it could be for any number of reasons. As much as they sometimes give away how Ash feels, they just as often make it more confusing.

The camera glints with the bit of light that shines through the curtains, and Pyro watches Ash’s gaze snap towards it. The metal shines in the golden hour light, similar to how the gold pours itself over Ash’s dark feathers.

Maybe there’s something to be said about crows and shininess.

“

my notes i kept in the writing doc, typos and all:

squiddo comes over and is surprised to see Ash

they look at ash’s wing and is like you told me it was a bird so i brought bird equipment. i need human sized stuff to help

so she leaves to come back with medical studd

ash and pyro cook dinner and ash accidentally burns his hand, mentions how it feels good since hes so cold all the time

squiddo comes over the next day with human supplies they got from a medical student friend (circe) and fixes Ash’s wing

he asks if hell be able to fly and squiddo says yes but it’ll be more difficult because his left wing will never be as strong as his right one

will have to learn to fly differently

ash asks what if he cuts off his wings

squiddo tells him why thats actually a horrible idea and he finally resigns himself to it

squiddo says theyll make a planner of exercises for ash to do to learn how to fly that are adaptive to his messed up wing, says theyll use it for a college project and use pyro’s story of him being a regular bird

pyro asks if there a reason ash is cold all the time

squiddo says there isnt a bird reason

(glitch fever :))

(glitch fever was the reason for the sickness. when ash got pushed into the portal that was one of the things that happened to him as well as the wings. he’ll randomly get really sick, and there’s not really anything he can do to prevent it. i probably thought out more how this worked at some point but i dont remember it now sadly)

squiddo asks if ash has a phone number he says no bc he doesnt have a phone, pyro makes mental note to get him one

pyro says until then ash can use his phone to message squiddo hooray

squiddo leaves

ash asks pyro about getting a job pyros like well. wing.s are an issue

they look into online jobs, ash went to the lab like right after high school (couldnt afford college) but likes businessman stuff and entrepreneur ship

ash starts applying

adds that once he could fly he could swoop down on people and get money that way

pyro is adamantly against this idea (very much a do your best to do the right thing person)

ash goes to bed, notes hes been sleeping much more since he got the wings

pyro stays up researching heat things that could help ash as well as the illness (nothing on it because another result of the lab) and stuff about bird wings

gets dinner and thinks about his relationship with ash and how muc things have changed sappy moment and all

goes to bed too

next morning squiddo has sent ove the flight training notes and they start on it (i actually have to do bird wing flight training research oh my gods)

this is sunday

pyro hasa  talk with ash about how he needs to go to work tomorrow and pretty pretty please do not try to cut off your wings again

ash agrees

next day pyro goes to work and talks with kaboodle, tells her how ash is doing and how squiddo helped

ash spends the day practicing flying and cooking and doing various thing i dont know i cant be bothered maybeeeeee ash chapter? who knows i dont really want to plan out his whole day

pyro comes home and is like yayyyyyyyy and they cook together again

note to self-- i feel like this is getting boring its the same thing every day kind of

maybe cut out some of the boring repetitive parts like that

eventual ash training arc

ash feels kind of bad about the vase since things are valuable and now its dead

ash’s wing is getting so fucked up. wonder if theres anyone who knows a lot about bugs and birds that could help. hmmm. hmmmmm i wonder

the next day pyro calls off work, kab stops by and sees Ash. tells him abt squiddo and ash considers it.

him and squiddo eventually become friends

eventual plot points:

ash practices flying in pyro’s living room (under squiddo’s guidance)until he can fly for real and goes outside (possibly clown sees him?)

he keeps randomly getting sick as an effect of the portal (glitch fever)

maybe have circe and kantje appear? since he briefly met them

nirox and katie (?) too

they take down clown and branzy’s lab (very end) 

Pyro majored in mechanical engineering. He uses this to program and create a robot/mech that is part of the plan to take down clown and brandy’s lab

lore stuff:

ash tells pyro what happened in the lab (clown pushing him though the portal + the experiments and stuff. (also never rlly decided on the branzy and clown dynamic) ash started working there because his family was poor and it was the best-paying job possible.

ash’s dad has expectations for him to bring them a lot of money, and he was trying his best

clown’s lab is in the desert/ on the edges of town

the portal was like the void except he was only in it for a few minutes but because of funky time stuff it was years and he was so cold after. still is cold most of the time.

(totally forgot abt this years thing. im saying it was only a few minutes. maybe. i dont really know.)

near end/sequel  they befriend Derek and Ash is on edge around him bc of how similar he acts to Branzy-- explore more of his backstory there

use rule 21 memento mori for a title or two as well as things to do by alex g

we now go to the entirely separate doc i had for plot points and planning. some stuff was copy/pasted and so is seen in both planning sections of this:

plot beats in order because what fucking type of an outline is this

ash flies

gets back to his family somehow? and then ends up not working out bc of something with his wings

end: takes down lab, pyro uses his engineering knowledge and ash loses an eye (maybe to clown?)

maybe branzy is missing, derek there instead, and later they find branzy because he is so messed up (spinoff chapter)

spinoff abt squiddo (the real one!)

use abbey for chapter title

eventual scene from Taiga:

(shoutout to taiga for helping so much with this fic)

pumpkin patch or apple orchard scene (because fall) where it’s like a family farm an hour or so away so theres almost no one and ash can just spread his wings in the field past the rows of plants and feel *free* in the air that wouldnt ever suffocate because it surrounds and gives a cool breath that ash never thought he’d be able to take outside again

pyro stays up researchinghings that could help ash as well as the illness (nothing on it because another result of the lab) and stuff about bird wings

gets dinner and thinks about his relationship with ash and how muc things have changed sappy moment and all

goes to bed too

next morning squiddo has sent ove the flight training notes and they start on it (i actually have to do bird wing flight training research oh my gods)

this is sunday

pyro hasa  talk with ash about how he needs to go to work tomorrow

ash agrees

next day pyro goes to work and talks with kaboodle, tells her how ash is doing and how squiddo helped

ash spends the day practicing flying and cooking and doing various thing i dont know i cant be bothered maybeeeeee ash chapter? who knows i dont really want to plan out his whole day

pyro comes home and is like yayyyyyyyy and they cook together again

ash practices flying in pyro’s living room (under squiddo’s guidance)until he can fly for real and goes outside (possibly clown sees him?)

maybe have circe and kantje appear? since he briefly met them

nirox and katie (?) too

pan>

they take down clown and branzy’s lab (very end) , a

lore stuff:

of things getting worse before they get better, and the rollercoaster

of finding a family, even when yours doesnt accept you

‘found family’ tag

ash learning and growing and refusing to cut off his wings (character growth yayyyyyy!!)

(also never decided on this. it was really a figure stuff out as you go type project)

ash tells pyro what happened in the lab (clown pushing him though the portal + the experiments and stuff.ash started working there because his family was poor and it was the best-paying job possible.

ash’s dad has expectations for him to bring them a lot of money, and he was trying his best

Ash feels like he kind of has to earn his stay there and is trying to get things for pyro (pickpoceting perhaps?), keeps cooking and trying to do things to prove he can help since he cant really get any valuables 

(he is. So upset. About not being able to give pyro valuables because it was like his whole thing to provide for his family and do whatever he needed to.

clown’s lab is in the desert/ on the edges of town

the portal was like the void except he was only in it for a few minutes but because of funky time stuff it was years and he was so cold after. still is cold most of the time.

already done outline bits/outdated:

somehow clown does something so ash’s family disappears and he stays with pyro.

near end/sequel  they befriend Derek and Ash is on edge around him bc of how similar he acts to Branzy-- explore more of his backstory there

he keeps randomly getting sick as an effect of the portal (glitch fever)

ash asks pyro about getting a job pyros like well. wing.s are an issue

they look into online jobs, ash went to the lab like right after high school (couldnt afford college) but likes businessman stuff and entrepreneur ship

ash starts applying

adds that once he could fly he could swoop down on people and get money that way

pyro is adamantly against this idea (very much a do your best to do the right thing person)

ash goes to bed, notes hes been sleeping much more since he got the wings

add that hed texted Win last night to tell him he wouldnt be coming in that day either

The text Pyro drafted ended up reading something along the line of he knows someone whose bird got attacked and part of its wing is now detached, and could Squiddo please come see what they could do to fix it.

 Pyro tried to make it the least of a lie as possible— technically he knows himself, and Ash is somewhat of a bird. 

Squiddo responded yes

squiddo comes over and is surprised to see Ash

they look at ash’s wing and is like you told me it was a bird so i brought bird equipment. i need human sized stuff to help

so they leaves to come back with medical studd

squiddo comes over the next day with human supplies they got from a medical student friend (circe) and fixes Ash’s wing

he asks if hell be able to fly and squiddo says yes but it’ll be more difficult because his left wing will never be as strong as his right one

will have to learn to fly differently

ash asks what if he cuts off his wings

squiddo tells him why thats actually a horrible idea and he finally resigns himself to it

horrible idea because:

good for balance (could get used to it without)

comfort, without always feel like something is missing

phantom limb issues

hitting people

hiding

could also get a wing prosthetic type thing to help even if wing is messed up

(shoutout to casa de awesome for helping with these reasons)

“yeah sure ash says

pyro gives squiddo clean bandages

they do that

then leave to come back another day

pyro asks ash how he’s feeling

ash says

at this time it is maybe 4pm so they cook together

grilled cheese or something simple

squiddo says theyll make a planner of exercises for ash to do to learn how to fly that are adaptive to his messed up wing, says theyll use it for a college project and use pyro’s story of him being a regular bird

squiddo says there isnt a bird reason

(glitch fever :))

squiddo asks if ash has a phone number he says no bc he doesnt have a phone, pyro makes mental note to get him one

pyro says until then ash can use his phone to message squiddo hooray

squiddo leaves

(an early draft of this chapter that i scrapped)

When he turns back around, Ash is twisted around, seemingly trying to look at where his wings attach to his back. It looks awkward, especially with his left limp on the floor, assumedly from Squiddo’s instructions not to use it.

Pyro wonders if he could make a sling or something so it doesn’t drag on the ground, but that is an issue for another time because Ash looks like he’s going to give himself neck issues from how he’s contorted himself.

“I can just take a picture and show you it,” Pyro offers, and Ash twists back, then winces, likely at the whiplash he must’ve gotten.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Ash questions. “Like, that there isn’t some way for your phone to send your pictures to people?”

“I can use a traditional camera,” Pyro suggests instead. “I think I have one still from mechanical engineering.”

Ash nods, gaze fixed on him. “Yeah, that would be nice, thanks,” he says. And then, expression creasing in a way Pyro can’t place, “You majored in mechanical engineering?”

“Yeah,” Pyro grins. “I was actually at the same college Kae and Squiddo are at now. I graduated last year, but nobody wants to hire right now, so I’m just working at the coffee shop until somewhere responds to my application.” He ends it with a shrug, an acknowledgement of the less-than-ideal situations yet acceptance.

He’s been doing that a lot, he’s noticed.

Ash hums, eyes slipping away from Pyro to a vague point nearby. It’s another habit of his that Pyro’s noticed, especially when Ash is lost in thought.

“Does that mean you’d move for it?” Ash eventually asks, still looking somewhere past Pyro that he can’t see. And Pyro realizes the concerns of it: Ash having nowhere to go, and not many other people to tell, and if Pyro left him he would be abandoned, alone again.

The other thing Pyro realizes is that he doesn’t know. 

He admits it, adding, “But I’m sure we could work something out for you.”

Ash hums, looking away. He doesn’t look like he believes it, and Pyro can’t really blame him, because he’s not sure he would either.

“How about I get that camera,” Pyro offers, because Ash looks lost but he shouldn’t, but what if he should be? Pyro can’t predict the future, as much as he would like to.

He can’t absolutely promise Ash won’t be left alone again, and for as much as it scares him he thinks it scares Ash at least ten times more.

It doesn’t occur to him until later the irony of leaving Ash alone in the living room in that moment, but now Pyro is rooting through his closet, trying to find the camera. He’d taken it apart and put it back together again more times than he could remember, a repetitive thing, replacing the parts and fine-tuning it until the activity became a comfort.

Pyro finds it hidden behind a sweater fallen from its hangar, and he picks it up gingerly. It was one of his first projects, and there’s still a bit of stickiness where a couple parts used to be held together with duct tape.

He smiles at it, checking that it still works by snapping a photo of the floor. The image shows up, before filing itself into the photo storage.

Pyro’s admittedly a bit proud of himself that the camera still works after all his modifications.

He stands, takes the camera back to where Ash stands in the living room. Ash is sitting on the couch, right wing splayed out and left draped over the edge of the seat and onto the floor. When he sees Pyro, he stands and faces him, right wing tucking itself against his back.

The camera glints with the bit of light that’s managed to squeeze past the closed curtains, and Ash’s eye catches on it instantly.

“