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Something was off about Contrarian ever since he had returned from wherever he ran off to earlier—that grin of his felt awfully more forced than one’s expression could naturally be, and he was laughing a lot. And yet Contrarian wasn’t pulling his usual pranks on others or messing around as much as he normally does, Cold’s mind would think he’s imagining it if he didn’t know any better. Something out there put the jokester on edge and he was hiding it to the best of his ability, so well that nobody else seems to have noticed. Or maybe they didn't care to notice or there was something that was preventing them from trying to pull those walls down—the reasoning didn’t matter to Cold, it wasn’t really any of his business.
At some point, the clown seemed to have retreated into his room, likely for some privacy and to let everything out when nobody was looking. He wasn’t the type to show anything more than his whimsical mask to anyone, not even to the ones who seemed to have grasped the idea of it. Cold was far from naive, however. He had seen Contrarian sneak a juice pouch that was in the fridge earlier, and he knew from the way Contrarian held it close to his elbow that it wasn’t simply for drinking.
Normally, Cold would let this slip by and leave the situation alone—he’d convince his mind that it just wasn’t worth the trouble to deal with a cheerful facade that remained rigidly locked in place when it came to these types of things. But there was something about it that didn’t sit right within the icy one’s gut, and he decided that there was nothing more that he hated than seeing Contrarian wallowing inside not doing anything. For the both of them, there was nothing worse than doing absolutely nothing after all.
Silently approaching the door, Cold tries to open it only to see that it was locked. He knows that Contrarian wouldn’t just swing it open for him—a pig is more likely to start flying out of nowhere. Luckily for himself, Cold’s mind had taken on teaching himself how to pick locks purely due to his own boredom. It may serve to be useful in this situation. Snatching the materials he needed, the frozen one’s hands find themselves to be meticulously probing at the lock until a faint click is heard from the other side of the door. Turning the handle, he was almost surprised to see that the door was in fact still locked before a realization entered his train of thought—the rascal was probably sitting on the other side of the door keeping the lock in place, Cold could almost hear the other giggling.
Well, that didn’t matter—Cold had other ways of breaking into Contrarian’s room. His legs carry him outside and walk until they’re right about where the clown’s window would be. He has half the mind to contemplate on how to get in before he ultimately decides to tap on the window with a clawed finger in a similar fashion as a bird’s beak pecking on glass. Cold remembered the time when Contrarian had let a seagull loose in the house, the excuse being that “it was knocking on the window politely and wanted to come inside.” Mindlessly, Cold taps on the window a few more times with his nail rhythmically before it carelessly opens—he internally notes to himself to thank Paranoid for the blinds that prevented anyone from seeing through the window later.
Though now wasn’t the time to ponder on that as he only had a fraction of a moment to slip inside, and so he does—not without Contrarian yelping on the other side. There was no time for the jokester to react as Cold squeezes through the space and tumbles onto the floor beside him. With a hum, the icy one stands back up to close the window before his gaze turns toward Contrarian, who had backed up away from him with that juice pouch clutched in his arm.
“O-Oh!” Contrarian starts with a widened grin, though Cold’s eyes could see right through it. “I guess a not so little birdie wanted to come in this time…!”
“No, though I don’t suppose seagulls are very small either. How curious that you actually let me inside with that.” Cold’s voice comes out evenly, his body beginning to approach slowly. “My mind finds it to be amusing that it worked.”
“Well! I didn’t think you’d be knocking on my window!” The clown protests, backing away the closer Cold drew near until his back was pressed against the door. He was trying so hard to not make eye contact, Cold could tell. “You were the last person I’d expect to try getting in.”
Subconsciously, a smile curls upward in mirth as Cold’s head tilts to the side, observing Contrarian’s frame. It wasn’t intentional and it falls the moment his mind registers it—to come off as mocking wasn’t what was needed right now. “I suppose it’s funnier when it isn’t expected, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah,” Contrarian gives a laugh, but it sounded more awkward than anything of the usual. Cold’s mind decides that he doesn’t like that. “Right, right.”
The chilly one’s gaze drifts over to the clown’s arm, seeing that the juice pouch was seated right over his elbow—just as he had expected, there was an injury there. His body seems to move on its own as he reaches for the pouch to see for himself. Before Contrarian could resist, Cold manages to pry the other’s arm away, though not without hearing the tiny wince that twisted something in his heart—strange, it wasn’t supposed to feel anything. That was a thought for later to contemplate as Cold’s eyes narrow as what seems to be a swelled up bruise around Contrarian’s elbow.
“So uh—”
“What happened here?” Even Cold seems to be surprised at himself when he cuts Contrarian off, but he quickly sets that aside as he watches the clown cover it back up.
“—I may or may not have…fell off a tree…?” Contrarian appears to cringe internally, grinning while averting his gaze from the injury, “I mean, look I thought it would be fun to climb up that really really tall tree that we saw the other day and I didn’t think I’d just—”
“There’s no need to explain any further.” The icy one hums as he brushes Contrarian’s hand away from the swollen area and clasps his own hand around it—the effect seems to be nearly immediate as his mind takes note of the sigh of relief. “You already told me what happened, so there’s no point in trying to reason with me. It doesn’t matter in the end, you fell and that’s the end of it. It’s meaningless to say more than that when what’s done is already done.”
Contrarian seems to have gathered up the courage to glance at his injured arm for a moment before looking up at Cold, chuckling nervously, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
A hum leaves Cold’s throat as he stares at the clown’s arm before carefully dragging him over to sit down. Hunted made comfortable nests for everyone, though Contrarian’s seems to be messy—not that it mattered, bedding was still bedding and Cold didn’t have the mind to care. Plopping down on the blankets, the frozen one tugs Contrarian down onto his lap as gently as he possibly can, luckily without much resistance. It was impulsive, a thought pops up in Cold’s mind as he keeps his frigid hand over Contrarian’s elbow, he didn’t know what exactly drove him to do this—it was very out of character for him to, yet he couldn’t bring himself to think that it wasn’t at least enjoyable.
His mouth chooses to voice this concern before the clown could throw any teases at him, “Don’t think too hard on this either.”
“Uh-huh, sure…” This time, the sound of soft laughter coming from Contrarian was more genuine, eliciting an involuntary hum from Cold’s own voice. The little prankster shifts in his position on Cold’s lap, laying down on his back as he gazes up at the icy one. “Y’know, I really should’ve grabbed you instead of the juice—the juice got warm really quick.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve told everyone by now?” Cold’s head cocks itself to the side, his eyes lowered. When the rest of the flock had discovered that the chilly one was practically a sentient ice pack with how cold his body—especially his fingers—was constantly, he ended up being some kind of ice pack to help with everyone’s pains. Not that he minded, he couldn’t care less if they used him for that purpose, so long as they didn’t feel pain at the end of the day. Though in some way, he’s almost glad that his colder body temperature seems to have some purpose. Almost.
“Umm didn’t hear ya.” Contrarian sticks his tongue out playfully despite his current condition.
If Cold had the heart to, perhaps he would have rolled his eyes. But such an action was pointless in his mind—maybe Cheated would have done so. “Sure you didn’t.” He hears the clown giggle before ripping the plastic straw from the juice pouch, watching him open and take a large sip from it. Cold blinks at this, merely observing. “I’ve never tried drinking juice when it’s warm before.”
“Mmm,” The jokester vocalizes, trying his hardest not to choke from laughter, “I sure love lukewarm pineapple juice.”
“Let me have a sip.” Cold demands, leaning down slightly with a hint of intrigue. This was something he liked about Contrarian his mind supposes, there was always something new and interesting to try with the rascal—that imagination of his never seems to ever run out. Perhaps it’s fun no matter what consequences there may be, but Cold would never admit that out loud to anyone, nor would he admit it to himself.
Grinning, Contrarian holds the juice pouch up to the icy one’s face with his unharmed arm, pushing the straw past his lips and allowing him to drink. It wasn’t as refreshing as it would have been if it was consumed immediately after taking it out of the fridge instead of being used as a temporary ice pack, but in a way it was somehow better to Cold—maybe it was because his body was already regularly at freezing temperatures. Even if he let his mind think about it, it wouldn’t be able to formulate the words to describe it.
“Tastes gross, doesn’t it?” Contrarian cackles, bringing the juice pouch back down and finishing the rest—Cold could hear the other sucking in air through the straw.
“I suppose it wasn’t too bad.” The frozen one’s head turns up towards the ceiling, his dull eyes lazily studying the details of the architecture.
The rascal stops laughing. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Wow, didn't know you were into um, lukewarm liquids!” Contrarian tries to laugh off the sudden awkwardness, causing Cold’s gaze to be brought back down to him.
Normally, he wouldn’t say much about it, yet there was something about Contrarian that compelled him to at least mention it. It didn’t feel right to simply brush it off as if it were nothing just like usual. Trivial things such as this shouldn’t be getting to Cold like this, and yet here he was sitting in Contrarian’s room. Perhaps it was more than enough evidence that he did care and this did matter to him, but he didn’t like thinking of the implications of that. Maybe another time when Contrarian wasn’t literally right here in front of him.
“You know,” The icy one starts, his voice monotone as ever with a hint of concern if one were to squint, “You don't need to laugh your pains away.”
Contrarian blinks at the other with vulnerable surprise before it contorts back into a grin. “Why do you think that? Aren't you the one that goes ‘Pain is unnecessary so stop feeling it’?”
“Yes, but it doesn't sit right with me seeing you like this.” The words spew out from Cold’s mouth without his mind thinking them over, and one eye twitches at that for a brief moment. He makes an attempt to save his dignity, or whatever was left of it. “You’re my main source of entertainment around here. It isn't fun when you're forcing a smile and not at your best.”
Maybe that sounded worse than his mind had imagined it, but it was satisfactory enough to see the clown’s smile fall into an expression of disbelief. And perhaps he regrets it almost immediately after as Contrarian gives a sly grin whilst batting his eyes obnoxiously. “Aww, are you saying you care about lil ol’ me?”
“Must I have to answer that?” The frozen one tries to dismiss the question, choosing to ignore the sensation lingering at the back of his mind.
Unfortunately, it seems to be an answer of itself to Contrarian as he bursts into a fit of giggles—yet it sounded more genuine than anything. “You actually care about me! You really do!”
“Maybe, yes.” Cold sighs. There wasn't much of a point in denying it any further if it came to this.
What he didn't expect next was the hug he was suddenly being given, Contrarian’s unharmed arm wrapping around Cold’s body. Before he's given a chance to let out a thought, the rascal speaks once more, “Thank you for coming to find me.”
Cold remains as stiff as a statue as he stares down at the other in his lap—he wasn't used to affection like this. He could feel the clown shaking slightly, and he decided that perhaps for once he'd return the gesture. Just this once. “There's no need to thank me. Simply focus on your own wellbeing and don't worry about letting everyone down for not being how you usually are.” Mindlessly, he trails his free hand through Contrarian’s head feathers, his mind barely registering the noise that sounded awfully like a purr. He looks down and is met with Contrarian’s bewildered expression that matches the curiosity in Cold’s mind. “Did you just purr?”
“I dunno, did I?” Contrarian smiles sheepishly—Cold knows that the jokester simply didn’t want to admit that he was comfortable here. He could practically see the lightbulb go off in Contrarian’s head as the other suddenly shoots up to sit, a mischievous grin stretching across his features. “Does that mean you can purr?”
“Oh no.” Maybe this was the one thing Cold didn’t want to find out about himself. Purring meant there was something good that his body felt—he was supposed to be unfeeling. At least that’s what he told himself.
Unfortunately for himself, he could see the grin on the clown’s face widening. “Oh yes.”
Almost immediately, Cold finds Contrarian’s hand patting his head, holding onto the emptied juice pouch with his teeth to keep his hand free. The chilly one blinks once, nearly dumbfounded by this—surely head pats weren't the key to making him purr, that would be utterly embarrassing if he could feel it. Though it doesn’t stop there as Contrarian’s hand ruffles lightly through his cold feathers, and Cold wasn’t willing to admit to himself that it did feel nice. He couldn’t tell how much time passed before the clown ended up softly twirling his index finger in circles around the feathers—it felt almost ticklish, Cold’s mind would think. His voice lets out a hum as he processes the sensations. They felt odd, almost soothing in some strange manner. He didn’t understand it, but he doesn’t dwell too much on it as Contrarian eventually grows tired of the repetition once more. Or at least, that's what he thinks as the motions stop. He'll keep himself convinced that he didn't purr during the whole exchange—even if Contrarian’s smirk said otherwise. Cold is unwilling to admit to himself that he misses the contact as the other pulls away from him.
“What if we went and tried making the others purr just for the fun of it?” The clown suggests, pulling the juice pouch out from his mouth and flipping it in his hand. He seems rather skilled at it, maybe Cold could learn a thing or two from that the next time he finds his mind to be bored again.
A knowing smile forms on Cold’s face and it remains there this time as he replies with a cool tone, “I suppose if that’s what you wish.”