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The dark, too quiet fog of morning seeps into the small, shared bedroom and weighs heavily in the air. The only tint of warmth is a small lantern in the corner of Avery’s nightstand that he can’t sleep without.
D3rlord stirs weakly, feeling oddly groggy. His armor (that he insists he sleeps in, to Avery’s woes) feels like a thousand tons heavier than normal. He grumbles, stubbornly pushing through the heaviness anyway. He needs to be aware. He sits up, almost swinging forward from dizziness. He sucks in a breath, resting his head in his hands.
“…Uugh,” he whispers, stifling a sniffle.
Avery looks over from his bed, awoken by D3rlord’s pained mumbling. He springs up, blinking away last night’s sleep. He scratches his chin and looks to his buddy. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out D3rlord’s in some sort of pain.
“D3r! What’s up? Are you okay?”
D3rlord nods without looking up from his hands. His jaw tightens and he clutches his forehead tighter, hoping it’ll magically make his skull-splitting headache disappear.
Avery squints, frowning slightly. Right! He needs to catch D3r before he does his whole pretending-he-feels-just-fine shtick. He rises from his covers with a wobbly stretch, approaching the edge of D3rlord’s bed. D3rlord looks over, his half-lidded gaze piercing daggers at Avery through his fingers. It always freaks him out a little when he does that. Hopefully it’s not on purpose.
Almost as if he can read Avery’s mind, D3rlord looks away. That freaks him out too. Even though they’ve… already been over the whole knowledge thing. He’s just not used to it yet. D3rlord has clarified he’s not a mind reader, just an all-knower. There’s a difference. Apparently. Still, it’s pretty eerie.
Avery leans closer to D3rlord, who drops his hands at his sides now. He blinks, looking over to Avery with a knowing gaze of defeat. Avery feels a pang of sympathy as he scoots onto the corner of the mattress.
“You don’t need to lie,” he purses his lips with a tinge of unimpressed sarcasm.
D3rlord knits his brows together, still choosing to fight the futility of the situation.
“…I’ll get better. It’s always difficult in the morning.”
Avery rolls his eyes. First, no it’s not. If anything, D3rlord is freakishly aware when he first wakes up, so, it’s quite obvious something is up. Especially since he’s loudly whining and burying his face in his hands.
“I can see the sweat on your face,” he tuts, raising a hand to feel the warmth of D3rlord’s forehead. D3rlord doesn’t move. He sighs, the tension in his face easing ever so slightly when Avery gently grazes his skin.
Avery blinks, eyes widening at the heat basically radiating off of D3rlord’s face. He leans forward with concern, squinting at his friend as he taps his palm all around his face. D3rlord simply sits still as Avery repeatedly feels his forehead, his cheeks, beneath his chin, then his forehead again.
“You’re going to ruffle my feathers,” D3rlord hums tiredly.
Avery blinks, pulling his hand away.
“Sorry.”
He raises a brow.
“Well, you don’t really have much of it on your face… It’s just the sides.”
D3rlord nods.
“I know. It’s a gripe, is all. I’m sure you wouldn’t like if I kept grabbing your face and it started to droop from the warmth.”
Avery frowns stubbornly.
“Well, when you put it like that, yeah.”
“It’s only an example. I’m not upset,” D3rlord says plainly, his blank tone betraying his words. He runs a hand through his dark locs, trying to fix his face.
Avery hums, standing up.
“Still. Let me help you out. You’re just gonna make yourself sicker,” he insists, placing his hands on his hips dramatically.
D3rlord stays silent as Avery quickly leaves the room. He waits for him to turn the corner to attempt to stand. Against his thoughts, which scream endless lists of symptoms, illnesses, cures, and the likelihood of survival, he shuffles towards the edge of his bed. He plants his feet on the floor, his talons hitting the wooden planks with a soft click.
He glances over to his nightstand, where his gilded helmet hangs half-off the edge. He slings his arm outwards, missing it twice before finally getting a good grip on the side of it. Before he can grab it with his other hand, a feeling of deja vu breezes past him. He looks towards the door, where Avery walks through only a few seconds later. He blinks slowly, tilting his head in mock annoyance. Already knowing what his possibilities are, D3rlord chooses to surrender and returns to his bed.
Avery chuckles under his breath, approaching D3rlord with a woven basket full of a few herbal remedies and other potions. A single, small kiwi sits in the corner of it for Avery to eat later.
“So, since you know so much, why don’t you tell me what to do?” he says, scooping up an armful of supplies. The glass bottles clink against each other softly and a few leaves bend under the weight.
D3rlord’s eyes widen slightly, and he backs up to make room for Avery on the bed. He opens his mouth to say something, but Avery interrupts him.
“Oh, also, stop wearing your armor all the time. It’ll make you feel better.”
D3rlord blinks.
“It’s a precaution.”
Avery shakes his head, moving D3rlord’s helmet over to spill his healing junk onto the nightstand.
“It’s unnecessary, is what it is,” he quips, “why don’t you just take a break? For like, one time in a bajillion years?”
D3rlord looks down at himself, then to Avery.
It is a little stuffy.
Hesitantly, he slowly moves between different latches and buckles that loosen his heavy gold accessories. They jingle and rattle, starting with his pauldron and ending with his knee guards. D3rlord now sits in a plain linen button up and a sturdy pair of corduroy slacks. He runs a hand through his hair, not used to being so exposed. Not towards Avery, but more so to any possible dangers. His matted, unkempt feathers very obviously stick out of the v-neck.
Avery glances over, eyes widening slightly.
After a small beat of silence between them, he looks back to his remedies and grabs a small vial.
“I think this one is for… aches,” he nods, waiting for D3rlord to double-check him.
“It is a multi-purpose painkiller, yes.”
Avery plans to just feed the tube straight to D3rlord, but he interrupts him.
“I can take it myself,” he says.
Avery pauses, embarrassed for a moment.
“It’s so weird that you know that,” he says, deflecting, as he hands it to D3rlord.
D3rlord takes the small vial, thumb resting on the cork.
“Sorry. I try not to pry,” he replies quietly.
Avery leans forward.
“To pry? I thought you already knew everything.”
“…It’s difficult to explain,” D3rlord stops, considering his words, “more… abstract things are a bit easier to ignore, but, sometimes it still seeps through.”
“Abstract?” Avery coos.
“Like the current moment, or someone’s intentions or feelings.“
“That’s it?”
“No,” D3rlord says simply, putting one hand to his temples as he slowly unscrews the cork, “…I’d rather talk about it later.”
“Oh. Totally!” Avery smiles awkwardly.
D3rlord nods. He quickly downs the translucent liquid with a slight grimace, handing the empty glass back to Avery.
“Sorry if it tastes bad. We can wait before taking more! Or, uh, whatever you need to do…” he looks around, “…so, don’t sweat it.”
“I’m not.”
…
“Yeah,” is all Avery says.
The two sit in silence for a while, and D3rlord repeatedly catches Avery staring at his neck every so often. It repeats just before D3rlord can catch him, but he feels the slime’s eyes on him regardless.
Avery itches to help him, or maybe just to try and fix his feathers. He’s always enjoyed busywork (at least, that’s what it is to him) like that. Working with his hands, rearranging small things. Like when he used to collect random weeds or flowers before D3rlord found him. Of course, he’s a big fan of super rough stuff too. He thinks he’s pretty good at Skywars! It’s just the little things he appreciates a bit more, is all.
He leans a little closer, trying to look convincing. He almost hovers over D3rlord now, who hasn’t moved.
“Why don’t you let me fix your whole, erm… feather situation?” he chimes, “A fresh start to get you back on track!”
D3rlord blinks, unswayed. He tries to ignore the sudden pang of information about group preening and close bonding. Just like every other time. He puts one hand to his temples, gritting his teeth.
“You don’t need to busy yourself with my problems. Especially not when it could get you sick.”
Avery frowns.
“I won’t. Just this one time won’t kill you.”
D3rlord is silent for a moment, an unseen chaos trying to come out on top with one idea rages on in his mind. He sighs, shaking his head and moves his scarred hands to quickly peel apart his buttons. Not to remove his shirt entirely, but to let it open enough to droop around his elbows and reveal the mess on his back.
Obviously, the large puff of feathers on his chest is exposed too, but he thinks he would rather sit in silent shame forever then even think of giving Avery an inkling that he can touch the feathers on his sternum.
He’s already shown teen thousand times more vulnerability than he could’ve ever imagined. He can handle the rest himself.
It’s a white lie to calm his mind.
Avery hums excitedly, shifting to sit on his knees as he moves to linger behind D3rlord. He casually runs a hand over his shoulder blades, already catching a few dead tufts on his fingers. D3rlord flinches, too caught up in his own head to realize Avery is right next to him until his warm, gentle touch grazes his feathered back. Avery pulls away, trying to be careful.
“Oops,” he says.
“It’s… it’s not you. Go ahead,” D3rlord mumbles passively, voice smaller than usual.
Avery nods, sliding into his work like it’s second nature to him. He hums a half-remembered tune to himself and effortlessly moves from just above D3rlord’s waist to the top of his neck, back and forth, straightening and grooming out every fluffed up cranny, speck of dead skin, or frayed and crooked feather. The semi-soft, malleable texture and the methodical nature of the activity feels like heaven under his palms.
D3rlord is comically tense, his muscles almost growing sore from how stiff his body is. He’s never been one for physical affection, or at least not to initiate it, but he’s usually able to handle it just fine. Unfortunately, he lets his nerves get the best of him every time he lets Avery take care of him, even in the slightest. To make things worse, he knows that Avery notices it and chooses to say nothing, just like how he knows his favorite color, his tendencies when he’s alone, or how often he trips over himself on his misadventures.
It isn’t helping.
Avery can tell how unreasonably nervous D3rlord is just by how he feels his muscles twitch away under every light touch. He finds it a little ironic that the super rough knight guy who found him while simultaneously missing copious amounts of blood and still standing is so sensitive. That, and, he sucks at actually caring for said wounds… and himself in general.
“Why don’t you relax?” Avery chuckles.
D3rlord blinks, immediately rushing to defend himself.
“I am relaxed,” he says quickly. It’s an obvious lie.
Avery rolls his eyes.
“For someone who knows everything, you’d think you would know taking advice is usually good for you…” he mumbles to himself, semi-hoping D3rlord doesn’t hear most of it.
D3rlord does hear him, but he has nothing to say in return. Avery is right. He looks off to the side, silently trying to listen to his suggestion. He takes a silent breath, shoulders dropping slightly.
Avery’s dull humming fills the silence between them once more. D3rlord still jumps when Avery accidentally yanks a healthy feather or touches a scar, but he’s a little less statue-y. To Avery, anyway.
D3rlord would never say it, but as time passes and Avery slowly starts wrapping up, he finds himself unconsciously leaning closer. When he isn’t stuck in freeze response, it does feel nice to be cared for. He appreciates how it gives him something other to focus on besides his relentless thoughts. Feeling the tangled jargon slowly turn muffled is something he’s not used to.
The combination of the darkness of the room, Avery’s gentle touch, and the dull buzz of peace in his head doesn’t do great for his efforts to stay awake, though.
Avery shuffles backwards, looking at D3rlord’s shoulder blades one last time before putting his hands (which are covered in feathers) on his hips.
“I think I’m done!”
…
The only response he gets from D3rlord is a small snore.
Avery drops off of the bed, circling around the side to see D3rlord slightly drooped forward, sleeping sitting up. He laughs to himself, putting one hand to his chin and getting a few stray feathers on his face now, too. He sputters, shaking his head in an attempt to get them out.
D3rlord startles awake, looking at Avery tiredly. Avery pauses, giving a guilty smile.
“…Goodnight,” D3rlord mumbles sleepily, turning over on his side without even bothering to fix his shirt or his blankets.
Avery furrows a brow. It’s… morning. Whatever. He probably hasn’t slept for longer than three hours for a good while. That, or the medicine is finally taking effect. Hopefully it will actually be a decent start, even if it’s rather untimely.
“Nighty night,” he whistles.
Avery glances over to his kiwi he never got to eat with a small frown. He’ll have it later when he isn’t covered in debris. He walks out towards the door, hoping to wash himself off without melting too much in a nearby puddle.
As he wanders around, he replays the moments with D3rlord in his mind.
In a totally platonic way, that is.