Chapter Text
“Hold her steady- careful- that’s it. This is Pearl!”
A little girl no older than six stood in a garish outfit of a red skirt and pink tights, stock still, her eyes as wide as saucers. A thick, heavy glove ran the length of her arm, and upon it stood a beautiful bird of prey, her caramel brown feathers dotted with dark chocolate shining in the blazing sun, perfectly preened. Her orange eyes flicked about with deadly precision, gazing warily at the girl’s parents who stood with their phones out, beaming with pride.
Grian stood aside, smiling just as proudly. Already, a whole gaggle of children had been struck with the same fascination as they watched these strange creatures perch on their arms, but he could never get tired of watching his birds stay gently still, the light catching their beautiful colourings, while endless curious little hands petted and ruffled and held. It astounded him, really, that they were so naughty whenever he took care of them, and so ferocious when hunting, and yet, after three years at this country show, he trusted them wholeheartedly to bring no harm to the little ones who visited his stall, besides the odd warning nip when the smaller kids didn’t get the hint – though he tried his best to guide them way when he noticed feathers were starting to rustle.
Wearing a similar garment, he reached down to offer Pearl his arm to step back onto, feeling the familiar weight of her talons sinking into the fabric. He praised the little girl with a smile, exchanged thanks with her parents, and just before his attention turned back towards the rest of his stall, he took a moment to smooth a stray feather on the bird’s wing, feeling the warmth of the sun on her dark coat; he made sure to set her down in the shade. She could rest while another bird took a turn. There were plenty, after all, equally beautiful. Straightening up, the sounds of the bustling country fair came back to him, the bright light making him squint momentarily after the cool shadow of the stall, so that his vision was slightly obscured. He only noticed him just before he turned to greet another family.
He had seen this man before. Many times, in fact – every year he visited Grian’s stall all three days of the fayre, wandered about, greeted the birds; just like any member of the public, but strikingly memorable. Tall and tan, an easy, loose outfit - consisting of a low-buttoned, camel-brown shirt and dark linen trousers – modestly covering well-toned arms, while slightly tangled hair brushed his broad shoulders even when loosely held back. Any other person might have looked unkempt, but he somehow pulled it off as effortless. Grian had been aware of him every time but, despite not being a particularly shy person, never found the courage to go up and speak to him. It was silly, he knew it was – it was his stall after all, and he was clearly interested in whatever he had to say – still, his voice stuck in his throat whenever he thought about it.
Jimmy’s enthusiastic voice jolted him from his thoughts. He had stepped forward and taken over handling the queue without him realising, teaching a little crowd of children some fun facts about a tall white cockatoo while a small boy held her steady on his arm with Jimmy’s gentle hand carefully supporting him. Grian blinked, making a mental note to apologise later and try not to zone out while staring at attractive men. The man in question was tentatively stroking the feathers of another bird, a stunning scarlet macaw, barely touching him with a single finger. His pulse raced, seeing an opportunity, and he cleared his throat before he thought about it too much.
“Wanna hold him?” He stepped closer to his bird, giving him an affectionate scratch. The man looked up with him with wide eyes, caught off guard, and stumbled over his words a little.
“Well, I- uh, can I?” An American accent shone through his deep, smooth voice.
Grian smiled, letting the bird step up onto his gloved arm before passing a second glove to him. “Yeah, just be careful. I noticed you were being super rough with him.”
Fear crossed the man’s expression, his mouth forming an apologetic ‘o’ before the sarcasm registered. “Well, I- I didn’t want to hurt him, you know, I keep horses but he’s so much smaller.”
Grian focused on his beloved animal for a moment, letting him regard the stranger with a tilted head before he slowly stepped onto his arm. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry. His name is Maui.”
“Hi Maui! Nice to meet you!” The man cordially greeted the bird; an enraptured grin plastered on his face as they stared at each other. “He’s beautiful,” he remarked, his other hand stroking his vibrant plumes of royal blue, butter yellow and, of course, bright red.
A small smile appeared on Grian’s face too, the love for his little creatures apparent in his eyes as he watched, letting the bird rub his head and his beak on his own hand. “He really is. He always makes quite the statement to the visitors.”
“He’s always the first bird I see. It’s how I find your stall.”
“Oh? You’ve visited us before then?” Grian bit his lip, pretending not to have noticed.
“Uh, yeah. Never had the courage, though, to say hello,” he met Grian’s eyes for a second, his own shining a deep olive as they caught the sunlight, “uh, to the birds, I mean.”
“Glad you did?” Grian asked hopefully. He wasn’t entirely sure why.
He focused his eyes on Maui again. “Yeah,” he said absently.
The bird scuttled along the glove a little, flicking his head this way and that, regarding the visitor with beady eyes. A light breeze filtered its way through the stalls, giving momentary relief from the harsh summer sunlight, and Maui fluttered his wings gratefully.
Sensing the conversation was losing pace, Grian tried a different angle, suddenly anxious to keep talking now they had started. “So, you keep horses?”
The man’s face brightened. “Oh, yes! I-“ he started but was interrupted by Jimmy’s voice.
“Grian? Sorry, so sorry.” He walked over to the two of them. “We’re starting to lose the shade on a couple of the perches. Can you help me with moving them back a bit?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Grian didn’t realise how dejected his voice sounded until it came out. He held out his arm for Maui to step onto.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Jimmy, by the way.” He extended his hand to the man.
“No, no, no worries. Nice to meet you. Scar.” He returned with a charming smile, shaking Jimmy’s hand.
Grian regarded the man’s – Scar’s - face, mildly enthralled with the way he talked, and only just noticing the slightly shinier mark across the bridge of his nose. Jimmy nudged him in the ribs expectantly.
Had he been asked a question? “Sorry. Grian.” He introduced himself hurriedly, shaking hands. “Sorry, I’d better-“
“No, no, it’s fine, go do your thing.” Scar seemed to hesitate for a moment. “If- if you wanted, you could come meet the horses. I have a show in the Main Ring, 6’o’clock. Come round the back after and I’ll meet you.”
Now it was Grian’s turn to look startled. “Oh- uh-“
Scar smirked slightly at his reaction, turning without waiting for an answer. “See you then.”
Was that a wink? “I’ll be there-“ Grian started, but he had already walked away. Slightly bewildered, he turned towards Jimmy, who had the biggest grin on his face.
“What?”
“I’ve been waiting for that for three years.”
“Waiting? For what?” Grian took the job of carefully holding each bird while Jimmy hauled their perch under the shade of their stall, so they didn’t overheat in the afternoon sun.
“I’ve seen you staring at him when he comes over. Every year, three days in a row, sometimes more than once a day, for three whole years. But you’ve never talked to him. It’s painful to watch. And now you finally manage it, and what? You wouldn’t have introduced myself if I hadn’t joined in.”
“I would’ve!” Grian protested.
“You didn’t.”
“It- it didn’t come naturally.” Grian said, and Jimmy straightened up, raising an eyebrow at him. “Oh, shut up. You’re so annoying.”
“Look, I’m not judging,” Jimmy threw his hands up in a surrender, “when I met Scott, I was terrible. Chatted normally to everyone except him. I’m just saying, I get it.”
“How is this anything like you and Scott?”
Jimmy gave him a withering, knowing stare, and Grian slapped him with his birdkeeping glove when he mockingly whistled a wedding tune.
“I was talking to a customer who was interested in our stall, that’s all. Which is what we both should be doing. Come on.” He gestured to the growing queue of curious faces behind him.
“So, you’re going to his show, yeah?”
“Shut up, Jim!”
--
The air began to cool off as the fayre settled into the early evening, which Grian was thankful for as he wound his way through endless crowds to get to the Main Ring. The aroma of burgers, chips, and hot dogs arose from the food stalls he passed, people chattering and laughing as they ate an early dinner before they headed home, dusty gravel crunching under hundreds of pairs of feet. A few little dogs darted along, pulling on their leads to greet everyone around them, but he didn’t stop to say hello for once. Jimmy had popped to his husband’s stall and lost track of time, which meant Grian was a little late leaving since he couldn’t leave the birds by themselves – then, he’d realised he didn’t actually know how to get to the Main Ring. Running the stall, even with Jimmy’s help, was constant work, scarcely even leaving time to grab a burger from the food trucks, so he had never really explored much, even after three years.
Passing by a bright blue poster, the word Scar caught his eye.
Have a good time with Scar!
Death-defying stunts, Incredible tricks
6pm, Main ring
Don’t miss out!
The poster showed a silhouette: a horse racing across the plains, with a man hanging off one side of the saddle, his arm raised triumphantly in the air. In that moment, it occurred to him that he didn’t actually know what he was going to watch – he had mentioned horses, so he had expected some of that trotting about or maybe they were going to be judged to win a prize, or something. He didn’t know much about horse events. Nothing like that poster, surely? Was that even possible? Shrugging to himself, he followed the arrow underneath, rounding the corner to find the grand expanse of the Main Ring with a decent sized crowd already gathered around the white fencing. Being a smaller man, he slipped through gaps with muttered apologies until he almost reached the front, bar a few children stood on the fence itself to give them some height, just as upbeat music began to thump through the loudspeakers. Grian began to clap along to the beat as others did, a slight sense of anticipation rising in his stomach. Suddenly, as a guitar burst into its tune, so did a horse through the gates at the other end of the arena, a beautiful dappled grey animal with a coat that almost seemed to shimmer as she ran. Scar sat atop her, holding the reins with one hand and waving at the crowd with the other, wearing a dazzling teal jacket adorned with rhinestones paired with cream breeches that fit him perfectly. He looked entirely at ease, as if he were sat on a comfy sofa instead of a fast-moving horse, his smile never wavering as the pair flew down the length of the space. The crowd went wild, as did Grian, a mild sense of shock electrifying him right to the tips of his fingers. This was far more fast-paced excitement than he had expected!
As horse and man approached the fence close to where he stood, they slowed, the horse turning easily despite it looking like her rider hadn’t touched the reins at all, and Grian found his eyes locking with Scar’s, making his stomach flip. The man gave him the biggest grin, winked confidently, and then, to Grian’s surprise, slipped sideways out of the saddle and disappeared. The crowd gasped.
Grian startled, his hand flying to his mouth, concern quickly replaced with confusion as he searched the ground for an injured body, but only the trampled grass remained. When he looked again at the horse, though, he noticed it. Scar hadn’t fallen. He was clinging onto the side of the saddle, hanging with his head peeking underneath the horse’s body and grinning at all the children who were giggling and waving at him. Quick as anything, he righted himself, slowing to a halt and giving his horse a loving pat on the neck while the crowd cheered. He made a show of making humble, grateful gestures, quieting the audience down then less humbly rousing them again once the noise got too low. Grian couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics – he naturally knew how to work a crowd; they were like putty in his hands. But when he set off again with a gentle nudge of the dapple grey, he lost himself in the performance. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, and yet even the untrained eye could easily notice the talent that exuded from every movement. He twisted and turned this way and that, even flipping upside down, getting just close enough to the ground to make every heart in the audience skip a beat, before pulling himself up with a charming smile and a wave as if nothing had happened. Every move happened with a mesmerising fluidity that made him look like he was floating, and yet the technicality of it all was not lost. At the very end, Scar rode past him one last time, hanging off the side of the saddle and waving just like the impossible-looking silhouette on the poster. He gave him another sideways smirk, before gesturing with his head to the gates at the back. The dappled horse cantered steadily along the edge of the arena before trotting through with a toss of its head, and then horse and rider were gone.
Grian came back to his senses and noticed his heart was racing, like he had been chased. Scar’s reckless antics had been almost exhausting in a way, adrenaline surging every time he swung down towards those galloping hooves, one wrong move ending in blood and tears. He shook his head, slightly dazed, and walked in the opposite direction to everyone else to find the back of the arena. Approaching the gates, however, a security guard in a hi-vis stood leaned against them, casually smoking, clearly not expecting an actual threat but still obviously installed so that not just anyone could get through.
“Hi,” Grian cleared his throat uneasily. The guard looked him up and down.
“ID?” He said gruffly.
“Oh, I don’t-“ he looked around, mildly panicked. He knew he wasn’t technically doing anything wrong, but he wasn’t sure how to get through, and he didn’t want to just leave, he didn’t have a contact-
“He’s with me,” a familiar teal sleeve slung itself over the wooden bars, unlatching it from the other side. “Hey, you came.”
“Yeah,” Grian smiled awkwardly, feeling weirdly pleased to see this man he barely knew as he followed him into the fields beyond, dotted with trailers and cars and people milling about in outfits ranging from long white coats to tails and top hats.
“Enjoy the show?” Scar glanced back at him while they walked, a glimpse of hope escaping his easy expression. Grian let out a chuckle.
“Yeah. It was…I mean, it was amazing. Didn’t know that stuff was even possible. Hanging upside down and all. I thought you were going to kill yourself. It was quite terrifying.”
It was Scar’s turn to laugh now. “Yeah, I’m gonna be honest, I could tell. You were stood there catching flies,” he teased. When Grian tilted his head, not quite catching his drift, he made a dreadful face, his mouth lolling open, eyes gaping. Grian scoffed incredulously.
“I was not!”
“You so were. Don’t worry, no one noticed. Except me.”
“I was gonna ask about that. You were going so fast – how did you see me?”
“I like your red shirt.” Scar tentatively picked at the sleeve for emphasis. “Reminds me of your beautiful bird Maui. And it helped me find you.”
“So, you were looking out for me?” Why did he ask that?
Scar ducked his head, gesturing to a fence they were walking up to. “Here we are!” he said quickly, with the flair of the showman he had been in the ring. “The star of the show. My ride or die, quite literally, in fact, the one without whom I would not have the confidence to do what I do. Mister Grian, may I introduce you to Miss Jellie.”
The gorgeous dapple grey he had seen in the arena leaned her head over the fence, sniffing at him curiously. Looking at her more closely now that she was standing still, he noticed the brilliant white stripe that ran down her nose that had blended into her coat from afar. She regarded Grian with wide, dark eyes for a moment, then turned her attention to Scar, snuffling at his pockets.
“Okay, okay, since you did so well today, my dear, although I worry that one of these days you’ll regret all these sweets,” Scar smiled fondly, pulling a handful of little mints from his breeches which she happily began to crunch. “Perhaps…you’d like to accept one from our new friend?” He held the last one out to Grian, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
Grian took it from him but stood stock still, suddenly out of his depth. This was very different from having a few seeds pecked from his palm by a delicate little beak. This creature felt big enough to swallow any one of his beloved birds whole, if she wanted. She probably wouldn’t, but still.
Scar chuckled amusingly at his face and stepped towards him. Gently, he put his thumb and finger on his wrist, and, when he didn’t resist, turned his palm so it was flat, facing the sky. He took the mint, placed it on the middle of Grian’s palm, and Grian heard his own breath catch just as he used his thumb to flatten out his fingers, skin brushing electrified skin. It was such a simple move. He could have just told him what to do. But, even after Jellie had happily snaffled the treat from his hand, Grian found his muscles locked in place, his face growing embarrassingly warm.
Scar, too, gazed for just a second too long at the man stood in front of him. He hadn’t noticed before just how many freckles were scattered across his cheekbones, like constellations in the night sky. Something twisted in his chest as Grian gazed at Jellie with wonder in his wide eyes, his skin slightly pinker than before.
“So,” he said suddenly, breaking the spell, “Jellie is not the only star here, oh no! Can I introduce you to the rest of the team?”
The ever-fading rays of sunlight began to filter through the trees surrounding the field, casting long shadows that stretched across the paddocks of grateful horses who had been chasing for shade all day in between shows. Scar strolled around while talking enthusiastically about whatever took his fancy – first his horses, then his favourite activities he was looking forward to at the show, then about how much he loved visiting the bird stall and watching them with their gorgeous feathers – while Grian met a whole herd of stunning steeds who all gave a friendly sniff and were happy to put their heads down for an ear scratch. In particular, a smaller palomino took an extra interest in him – repeatedly butting his nose against him, insisting for more until they both laughed out loud.
“That’s Pizza. He really likes you!”
“Pizza!” Grian exclaimed. “Who names a horse Pizza?!”
“I do!” Scar said indignantly. “It’s a fabulous name!”
Pizza shook his head too, as if offended, his light cream fur glinting in the lowering sunlight. To be fair, Grian noted, the colour reminded him of delicious mozzarella, and while he gave the horse an apologetic scratch, his stomach suddenly rumbled. He rummaged in his pockets for his phone.
“Oh, wow, it’s gotten late!” His face fell. “I’m- I’m sorry Scar, I can’t let Jim pack up on his own, it’s not fair-“
“No, no, it’s fine!” If Scar was disappointed, he didn’t show it.
“But- uh, this has been great, really. Really great.” He met Scar’s gaze. Those eyes truly were an amazing colour. “I would love to chat more,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, anxiety gripping his insides.
“Sure! Sure,” the American beamed. “You’re here tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Grian’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Yeah. The whole show, actually, yeah.” He returned the smile, silently admiring his laid-back nature.
Internally, though, Scar felt his entire throat close, clenching his hands to stop them shaking. From excitement or nervousness, he couldn’t tell, but all he knew was he was finally talking to the cute stall owner he had stolen glances of for three years, and it actually seemed to be going well. Really well. Trying to slow his racing pulse, he took a steadying breath.
“At least…let me walk you back?” he offered tentatively.
Jimmy had just reached for his phone, tapping his foot impatiently as he watched the sun sink towards the horizon, when the pair appeared in the distance. He had to turn away to hide the gleeful expression nearly splitting his face in two as Scar’s hand brushed Grian’s back when they said goodbye and Grian stumbled over his words quite severely. He was never going to hear the end of this.