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Honestly, Tango’s having a great time! Sorta. Well, sometimes things go a little awry, and his redstone side projects blow up, or he feels the itch to guard, and nobody’s around for him to pace and float above. Hehe. Ghosting, one could even say.
But today’s a pretty good day, and Tango’s on patrol, he’s watched The Lord of the Rings (The Fellowship of the Rings) with Impulse yesterday, and now—he’s meeting up with Jimmy, his newly assigned partner. To be honest, he had…messed up a little bit, when they first started—got separated and took a lot of damage in stupid water, and the other guy had teleportation and pushed him into a lake!
Jimmy was honestly really nice about it though, and they were even going up on the leaderboards; The Ranchers. What a cool name, and they got the aesthetic to match. For now, Tango’s just skimming over buildings and peering over rooftops, lightly floating if he needs to—though he normally doesn’t overuse it unless he’s getting ready to attack.
And then he’s climbing down a fire escape, just about a minute away from Jimmy when a slushy snowball hits him smack in the face. Tango hisses, peeling off the melting snow as Scott waves at him, impishly grinning. A piece coral crowns his head—hallmark of the new Mean Gills, another one of the soulmate pairs.
Tango makes an affronted noise, the scoff tearing its way from his throat as he flies higher, fireballs ready to lobby at the man.
“Jimmy—!” he alerts, pretty much on autopilot.
“Tango,” Scott greets, voice smooth as honey, even as he ducks behind Jimmy—blocking his line of sight. Oh, that’s not fair! “Look, I’ve brought your soulmate over; found him wandering the streets and all, you know?”
Jimmy makes an aborted shout of protest, waving his arms—wings flapping behind him—one of them hits Scott, who backs up with a bit of protest, huffing. “Wait–what?! I wasn’t even lost, you just dragged me over here. Listen,” he hisses, in that endearingly dramatic way of his. “I know your tricks. I’m watching you. Go back to patrol, don’t you have work to do?”
“Alright, I see, you just don’t want me here,” Scott sighs, before beginning to back away. “I’ll see you two later!” A smile curves on Scott’s face and he bows a goodbye, quickly scattering off into the city before Jimmy can peck at him any more—quite literally, sometimes.
Jimmy huffs in mock annoyance, wings puffing up behind him and feet stomping against the ground. “C’mon, let’s start patrol before we’re late,” he waves, and Tango follows, laughing a bit.
The patrol goes as normal—just a few petty crimes and a minor incident where they have to try and safely move a hybrid going through some distress—but it’s all fine. Jimmy’s running through the streets below him, wings either tightly folded against him or catching wind as he jumps from fire escape to holdings in the wall, and well. Huh. Tango gets a little curious.
He catches Jimmy right before the both of them head home with a nice excuse prepared—
“Do you wanna watch Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers with me? Back at my place. I’ll order some food for us both.”
Jimmy trills a beautiful song straight from his chest before he nods, grinning right back at him. “Yeah, yeah, sounds good to me.”
So they’re back at his apartment, all cozied up on the couch as the TV’s playing. Tango’s running his fingers through Jimmy’s wings, and it’s great. Great with extra great sauce, Jimmy’s chirping and singing random melodies, but the question still itches, insistent.
Nervously, he clears his throat, and Jimmy looks up at him, expectant. “Hey Jimmy, I’ve got a question.”
Jimmy makes an absentminded noise in the back of his throat, still draped over him. With an extra nervous laugh for good measure, Tango bites the bullet: “You know, I never see you fly. And I-I mean! You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with, but your wings seem pretty healthy, and I’m just wondering?”
Under his hands, Tango can feel Jimmy tense, then force himself to untense, throat clicking as he swallows. He falls quiet, frowning, and Tango gives him a quiet brush through his wings in what he hopes is a soothing motion.
“Oh! Uh, yeah.” Jimmy reaches up and entangles his fingers with Tango, giving a light squeeze before continuing. “I don’t…I just can’t fly. It’s kind of a pre-existing condition of having…my wings I guess,” he chatters, looking away.
He’s lying.
But Tango… Tango’s known that. And everybody keeps secrets; spooky skeletons locked in their closet, that weird trait that’s too weird for the public, the secret you didn’t mean to keep but you’re still keeping to this day. Tango’s okay with it. It’s his soulmate, his fellow Rancher.
“Oh, yeah? Thanks for tellin’ me, then Jimmy. I appreciate it,” he says, still squeezing back at Jimmy’s hand. In response, Jimmy gives him a shaky laugh, sighing as Tango traces his primaries, a coo bubbling up his throat.
They’ll be just fine. After all, it's only the pressure of competing against all the other soulmate pairs they have to worry about, right?