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Wilbur glared at the diamond sitting in the doorway to the burnt out building, feeling the water coursing between his fingers practically freezing with his levels of frustration.
Two clear calling cards. If he’d needed them. Arson, and a goddamn, literal fucking diamond. Oh, he wondered who that could be. Definitely not a villain of the exact same name.
Hissing, he bent down, snatching the glittering stone out of the small pile of ash it had been delicately placed on. Where did these two even get the money for these kinds of stunts? He certainly couldn’t afford diamonds as calling cards, on a hero salary.
And it was shaped. Wilbur tried not to let his eyes dilate too much, but it was hard, as his instincts started itching in the back of his mind. He didn’t like shiny things. He really didn’t. But he did like beautiful things, and the intricately carved teardrop seemed almost radiant in his taloned fingertips.
A water droplet. For him. Of course it was for him. What other hero would be called out to a burning building? And they knew that.
Wilbur still wasn’t sure if he loved or hated that they knew that.
Hated, probably. The itching wasn’t helping the cramps he’d been having for the last few days, and Wilbur couldn’t help but scowl, as he slipped the diamond into a pouch on his belt. He knew what they wanted, at least. Even if they were assholes about it.
Rolling his eyes, Wilbur ducked through the collapsed doorway, adjusting his mask to make sure he didn’t inhale too much smoke. Check for injured civilians first, go after irritating villains after. He’d just do a quick sweep. It was cold, but anyone not out already probably hadn’t survived. Obsidian was thorough like that.
Wilbur held out his hand as he trod carefully through the layer of soot that had been a rather nice office building. A thin layer of water swept alongside him, clearing the room like a pressure washer, letting him see the melted glass and desk legs fused with the linoleum tiles.
No one was dead, he was fairly sure. Two serious injuries, one of whom he’d scooped off the pavement before he’d even come back to put the flames out. The other had already gotten away from the worst of it, and another hero had turned up to tend to their burns. Not so bad.
Of course it wasn’t. They were just trying to get his attention.
Wilbur felt he had a certain right to his ill temper, as he blasted the remnants of a poster off the wall with one concentrated stream of water. He was hungry, cranky, overdue a molt and now being bothered by his two least-hittable villains. Stupid peace treaty. Stupid civilities with two stupid birds who knew exactly how to ruffle his feathers.
Wilbur almost hoped he see their distinctive masks, by the time he finished his sweep, and was more than inclined to half-drown any civilians he did come across. But the wreckage seemed clear, and that left his schedule unpleasantly equally so for hunting down his villains.
His tail dragged through what of the ash he hadn’t washed away as Wilbur stomped back, making his tailbone itch and his instincts trill complaints. Them and him both. He just wanted to be miserable for a while, but no, he had to do work too.
The worst part was, Obsidian and Diamond would probably try to help him. Wilbur already knew what they’d say. He needed to eat something, he needed to take care of his wings, he needed to take time off work when he needed it. But he didn’t need to do any of that, he just liked complaining, and his fuse was short enough his reflexes were at the top of their game. Perfect for hero work, really.
That was probably sarcasm. Honestly Wilbur’s internal monologue had gotten snappy enough even he couldn’t tell when he was being ironic. He just shook out his wings dourly, and glared around the pavement, daring the world to give him one more burning building to go be altruistic at.
He should probably stick around, and help the other heroes with the clean up. He was useful, especially at times like this, making sure no one accidentally got burnt, and clearing out rubble with his aquakinesis, or whatever they called it.
Wilbur just looked around, eyes narrowed, and the one hero who had looked like they’d been about to call him over seemed to decide it wasn’t worth their life.
Good choice. Wilbur spread his wings, scowling deeper at how stiff and clumped they felt, and took a running start into the air, already reaching for the stupid diamond teardrop in his belt.
Maybe he’d just go on patrol. Ignore them, and let them actually come to him, instead of running like a dog to a call. Wouldn’t that be satisfying.
Nonetheless, Wilbur felt himself changing course, angling his feathers towards the last meeting point they’d had, back when he’d actually been in the closest thing he ever was to a good mood. Stupid decision. Villains were stupid. This was all stupid.
By the time he landed, Wilbur had worked himself pretty much into a state of blind indignation at his very existence, and immediately started striding down the street, teeth gritted and no mind paid to the decidedly downtown neighbourhood he’d landed in.
“Oh, Diamond…” Wilbur hissed, eyes flicking back and forth as his stomach cramped again, and his feathers felt like they were tearing themselves out.
“No hello for me, princess?”
Wilbur flinched, stumbling away in a fury before he even focused on Obsidian, who’d appeared beside him without a word, fangs showing in his confident smirk, and his own demonic wings neat and shining on his back.
The villain was wearing his standard white bird mask, which Wilbur decided on the spot he hated now, just as much as his elegant, sharpened talons and heavy work boots. Idiot. His hands were even still stained with ash, probably from when he’d left that diamond, which he hadn’t even bothered to clean off with that magic he loved to use so much.
“Aw, that means I’m the favourite.”
Diamond seemed to materialise on his other side, all cold smiles and tailcoats, his own boots with solid two inch platforms to give him a hope of standing level with the other two. His matching mask was black, exactly like his name implied it shouldn’t be, and his stupid shadows were nowhere to be seen. Yet.
Wilbur turned to glare at his own feet, feeling his freezing ire radiating off him in furious waves. He wouldn’t have to deal with these two long. They’d harass him for a while, then hopefully fly off to bother some other poor hero they’d taken an interest in.
“Princess? Any contributions to the discussion?”
Princess. Obsidian really had a knack for the nicknames that left the worst taste in Wilbur’s mouth. Well, worse than the bile that had lingered from the last time he’d thrown up. Which was this morning, actually. He’d brushed his teeth, but still. He could feel it.
“No.”
His voice was cold, and short, and could almost pass as professional, if there wasn’t a finality that suggested he was used to offering the villains more.
“Come on, songbird, we invited you here, the least you could give us is conversation.”
Wilbur stopped dead, and thrust his hand in Diamond’s direction, the teardrop stone lying on his palm.
“Take it. I’m not in the mood.”
He was rather in the mood to hit someone, actually, but also aware that letting it be either of these two would end with him getting dragged to a nest and cooed over until both of them decided they were bored.
But Diamond just laughed softly, his hand cupping Wilbur’s to curl the magpie’s fingers back over the diamond.
“Keep it. It’s yours. We haven’t seen you in a week.”
“That’s at least three days too long, in case it wasn’t clear.” Obsidian drew closer, his slightly lower voice sounding even more amused than Diamond’s sharpened mockery. “Missed you, princess.”
“And honestly, your wings…” Diamond ran a hand over his shimmering feathers- currently clumped and dull from misuse, but who cared- and clicked his tongue. “You’re lucky you’ve got us to take care of you.”
“Get off me.”
Wilbur’s voice was low, slightly hoarse in his dry throat, but undeniably dangerous. Even if Diamond just laughed, and Obsidian scoffed under his breath.
“C’mon, Wilbur, we’re being nice.”
“We really don’t have to be.”
“Princess?”
Wilbur snapped back to reality, feeling his cheeks flush as he realised how easily he’d zoned out to their familiar voices. The pain in his stomach was getting worse. He needed to fly.
“What?”
Diamond hummed, a soft, reverberating noise that set Wilbur’s instincts on the very edge of what he could reasonably be expected to tolerate.
“Oh, songbird, I’m beginning to think you haven’t even been eating.”
“Fuck off.” Snarling, Wilbur shrugged off the shrike villain’s hand, setting off at a brisk walk once again, even as his tail felt prickly and clumped all over. “I don’t need to listen to you.”
“Don’t you?” Obsidian’s voice was deceptively gentle, but the shadow curling around his ankle was anything but, and Wilbur stopped dead once again.
After just a second spent composing himself back from kicking levels of frustration, he turned around, shaking off Diamond’s shadowy tendril that had snaked across the pavement and trying not to actually growl.
“Yes. You two can go- burn down another building, see if I care. Leave me alone.”
“Hm.” Diamond skipped ahead a few paces, catching up to him and hooking his arm through the elytrian’s cheerfully. “Or we could talk? Properly? I won’t even mention your wings, songbird, promise.”
“That means a lot. Your wings really annoy him.”
Their voices kept overlaying each other, to the point Wilbur couldn’t quiet concentrate on anything else, and he was this close to just breaking into a run to get away from both of them.
But he was an adult, who knew how to hide when he was in stupid amounts of pain and a stupidly bad mood, so he just took a deep breath. And fought every urge in him to blast the shrike avian away with full force.
“Fine. We can walk.”
Diamond made a happy, chirping noise, immediately dragging him further down the street as Obsidian caught up in a few strides. Wilbur shot him a dirty look, but was only rewarded with a cocky grin from the raven haired elytrian, and one razor sharp talon pulling his mask off.
“Hey-!”
Wilbur was cut off by how close Obsidian’s talons still were to his face, and settled for glaring daggers at the smug villain, as he gently unhooked the fabric mask from Wilbur’s ears.
“There we go, princess. No need to hide from us.”
“I hate you.”
Diamond came to an abrupt stop, just across the street, and Wilbur nearly crashed into him, realising belatedly he’d been too distracted by Obsidian’s shenanigans to pay attention to where he was being dragged to.
Looking up, Wilbur felt his heart sink, and another muted stab of pain flare in his gut. A fucking hotel. He barely had time to express his utmost disdain before Diamond was dragging him inside, shadows wrapping around his wrist to assure him there was no escape from this one.
“What the hell are you-“
“Shush, princess.”
Obsidian pressed a hand over his mouth, coming to stand next to Wilbur as Diamond leaned on the front desk playfully.
Wilbur, who for the record, was official having a terrible day. He glared sulkily at Obsidian, and seriously considered licking his hand. But no. he was mature, and his instincts most decidedly weren’t, and it would probably be a bad idea.
A receptionist hurried over, adjusting her lipstick in a handheld mirror, and stopped dead.
“Oh-“
“We’ve got a booking?” Diamond spoke sickly sweet, then turned businesslike when she continued to stare at him with glassy eyes. “Diamond. You know me. You know not to tell anyone that we’re here.”
“Or else.”
Obsidian chipped in helpfully, and Wilbur realised a second later the villain’s claws had shifted to rest against his throat. He went very, very still, going slightly lightheaded as his instincts took advantage of his weakness, and for a horrible moment he thought he might be about to fall over.
But the receptionist nodded in absolute terror, nails clicking against her keyboard.
“Of- of course. Just down the hall.”
“Don’t worry, songbird.” Diamond looked over his shoulder, smirking. “It’s our room. You’ll see.”
Wilbur just nodded, having made an abrupt u-turn into abject terror of what might slip out if he let his guard down for even a moment.
Obsidian guided him down the corridor gently, and Wilbur was preoccupied with trying not to stumble of the cheap carpet as Diamond’s shadows tugged him through an unmarked door.
Then he was on a bed, and-
Shit.
Wilbur froze, feeling very aware of his empty stomach and clumped feathers, as silk pillows crowded around him in the nest.
Diamond had been right. This wasn’t a hotel room. It was decorated in their standard duotone, with white drapes over gothic looking windows, and elegantly carved black bedposts looming over the charcoal nest Wilbur found himself in.
Wilbur turned back to Diamond in silent terror, only for the villain to perch on the edge of the nest beside him, grinning under that birdlike mask.
“Hey… songbird, are you instinctive?”
No. Yes. Wilbur felt a lump rise in his throat as he realised he couldn’t answer, his voice had failed him.
“We doing food or feathers first?” Obsidian closed the door with a click, and the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place, before he wandered over, hands in his pockets. “Ooh. Is he-?”
“Mhm…” Diamond’s claws trailed up Wilbur’s throat, his voice turning soft and sweet, just for a moment. “Silly bird… you need us, don’t you?”
Wilbur swallowed dryly, on the verge of throwing up nothing at all as he felt his thoughts dissolving into birdlike fuzziness.
“So, feathers, I’m guessing?”
“Yep. Mine, by the way.”
“Oh, I see. I get left out, just because you like seeing him cry. I guess I’ll go make a sandwich then, sweetheart.”
Obsidian didn’t really sound that annoyed at all, but Diamond still flipped him off sweetly. Wilbur only saw it through blurred vision, tears gathering in his eyes as he realised he couldn’t pull away from the villains even if he could make his body obey him. It was his mind that was against him, refusing to let him move even an inch further away from them.
The elytrian wandered over to a mini fridge- and Wilbur had the awful sinking feeling they’d prepared for him- but a second later Diamond’s claws were buried in his feathers, and he had better things on his mind.
“Shush, songbird, you’d think I was hurting you.”
You’d think he’d be more responsible than to end up in a nest with a villain, but Wilbur was discovering more and more every second of today the world has a tendency to disappoint.
Wilbur heard himself whining, faintly, all the energy having finally left his body as shadows gently scooped him further into the nest.
Diamond was gentle, practised as he worked his claws through Wilbur’s thick feathers, humming to himself as the magpie tried not to choke.
“You’re still scared, songbird.”
His instincts were a buzz, not nearly enough space for conscious thought. It was all Wilbur could do to cling on to Diamond’s quiet voice, like they were sharing a secret.
“It’s ok. We’ll take care of you, remember? Sappy’s getting you some food, we’ll let you go when we’re done.”
Wilbur wished he could say he didn’t need them. He didn’t need to be grabbed off the street and coddled for a few days by villains every two weeks.
But it felt good, and he was hungry, and all his anger and shortness had given way to the urge to cry in his villain’s lap.
And when Obsidian came back, placing a plate on Wilbur’s lap and snuggling next to him, Wilbur couldn’t even pretend he didn’t feel his instincts flutter with protective affection.
He couldn’t even stop the darkness sliding over his vision, the heaviness settling deeper and deeper until it reached his heart.
Wilbur fell asleep safe and comfortable, with one villain’s claws in his feathers and the other resting his head on his shoulder.