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Danny considered the platform. Just to his side, Tucker shifted impatiently, his tawny brown wings rustling. But Danny couldn't help it, couldn't help his hesitation.
Ever since his portal accident…
Well, he couldn't blame people. He was unsettled by his wings too. Polite company usually wouldn't say anything, but public spaces weren't always polite.
The looks, the covert pointing, hushed horrified murmurs. Danny tucked his wings in closer to his back — a feat, considering how long they'd grown in recent years, an indicator he'd be shooting up one last time. Of course, his rotten luck, that Danny would have a final growth spurt in his early twenties. Just like Dad, apparently.
"Tucker," Danny complained. He just didn't have it in him, today. Exhausted from a long day of work.
His boss at the bookstore was great — a guy not that much older than him, the worst temper, but incredibly defensive of Danny and his wings. 'Just Jason', as he insisted on being called, had no issue calling out rude patrons. No matter how many people he threw out, the loss of profits didn't seem to bother him at all. Actually, he seemed glad for less shoppers so it meant he got to keep the stock which he insisted were for sale.
Danny suspected the store was a front and Tucker agreed. Though they disagreed on the nature of the front. Danny's theory was the store was started as an excuse to build an expanded library. Just Jason denied. Meanwhile, Tucker was pretty sure Just Jason was a crime lord, and the store was for money laundering.
Whatever. He paid well, and didn't care about Danny's peculiar wings.
"C'mon man," Tucker nudged him. In an attempt to spur Danny forward, Tucker flared his wings and flapped a few times. Mostly, he managed to startle a few pedestrians and smacked Danny upside the head. "Just for a little while. Please?"
"You could have left me at home," Danny pointed out as Tucker made inroads on pulling Danny towards the launch point. "I don't know why you'd want me to come to your study group."
"One, the only people you've talked to this week are me and your Crime Lord boss —."
"He's not a Crime Lord."
"And two," Tucker raised his voice to speak over him, "I've told you, the guys from the sci-com department are cool, no one's going to be weird. Or rude." Danny sighed, aggrieved. "I promise."
"Do you?" Still, Tucker tugged on Danny. Slowly, they were inching up to the edge. Soon, they would need to launch to the next platform unless Danny reeled them in. "Because the last time you promised —."
"I'm sorry! How many times do I have to apologize for that! My bad, Danny. I'm really sorry, alright?" Tucker kicked at Danny's ankle. To keep from falling, Danny's wings snapped out. Then, he immediately pulled them back in, flushing. "How long are going to stay mad about that?"
Forever, Danny didn't say but meanly thought it. Turns out, Danny was a champ as holding grudges. It only took Sam killing him three times and then a messy painful break-up for him to realize it. "Ugh, fine. But as soon as I want to go —."
"Yes!" Tucker cheered. "Yes, whatever, yes. The second you want to leave, we leave. Fine, get your ass in the air."
Danny let himself be pushed. Rolling his eyes, he tipped off the edge with Tucker tumbling right behind him. The benefit of a wing span like Danny's and the type of pinions he had is that it was just a handful of careful flaps before he made it to the open landing area of the cafe. Though, Danny didn't fly much with his wings these days. He wobbled a little mid-air but straightened himself with some well-placed ghost powers.
It would never stop bothering him that his wings disappear when he Goes Ghost.
Tuck bodily herded him — or tried — as soon as they both have their balance back. And then it was some level of chaos; new faces, introductions, the general din of the cafe around them even if it isn't packed, the hiss of an espresso machine. So far, Tuck's promise held. There were no comments, or staring, but there was a definite awkward stiltedness about it, like everyone was carefully keeping their eyes on his face and smiles a bit wooden.
Fighting off the sudden want to turn invisible, Danny smiled back. "I'm going to order a drink. Tucker?"
"My usual?" he asked, glancing up from he was settling in with his laptop.
"Sure, anyone else?" A few murmurs of no thanks, Danny nodded and escaped. Well, he would deny it was an escape, but it was an excuse to step away before he suffocated on the well-meaning effort to treat him normal.
In fact, Danny was so in his own head, caught up in those feelings of awkwardness, that he neglected to pay attention to his surroundings. Which meant he turned and nearly plowed someone over.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Danny said, hand coming out to steady the person — even if they didn't seem to need it. "I wasn't paying attention — I spilled your coffee, let me buy you another."
Mortifyingly, the person's coffee had managed to get not only on their shirt, but their sneakers and the floor around them. Danny glanced around hurriedly, finding a small napkin dispenser and preceded to pull handfuls out of it.
"Oh, you don't have to do that," the guy started, making an aborted motion. But Danny was already dabbing his clothes, stooping to drop a few on the floor to dry to sop up the worst of it. Flustered, Danny wiped at his — oh!
Danny blushed and recoiled. The guy who, now that Danny had gotten a good look at him, was shockingly handsome, also flushed. "Ancients, I'm sorry. I really — here, let me?"
Blinking, the guy let Danny lift his mostly empty travel cup from his hands. "Uh. Sure. It really isn't a problem. I can get another."
"No," Danny insisted. "It's my fault, let me?"
With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, the guy gestured for Danny to lead the way. The barista recognized Danny's victim and smirked. "I know you have a caffeine addiction, but this might be your fastest turn around yet."
"Shush," hot guy muttered, shuffling his very pretty champagne and white tipped wings. "I spilled. Can I get another?"
"My treat," Danny quickly interjected. "I ran into him. Can I get an iced mocha with extra chocolate, extra chocolate swirl, extra whipped cream? Largest size you have, please. And then a, uh —," Danny paused, scanning for something he might like, "A London Fog with just a splash of whole milk? For Danny, please."
The amount the barista charged definitely didn't include cute guy's drink — which Danny felt poorly for, and shoved extra cash into the tip jar in retaliation. Though cute guy laughed very demurely behind his hand when Danny did it after the barista turned away to make to their drinks. At this rate, Danny would combust from the prolonged forceful blushing.
"I come here pretty much everyday and tip generously, it's probably alright," the guy explained and moved to stand out of the way. Danny followed, failing to be out of the way by virtue of his height and his awful wings. "So, Danny?"
"Uuuh," Danny smartly replied, kind of dazzled by the wide smile and extended hand. Kicking himself mentally, Danny took his hand and lightly shook it, surprised by the guy's grip. "Yeah, Danny Fenton. I'm so sorry."
"It's fine, honestly. It's only coffee, it'll wash out. Tim Drake,, by the way" cute guy — Tim — said. "Pardon my rudeness, who orders tea from a coffee shop?"
Danny huffed a small laugh and rubbed at his neck. "I'm more of an energy drink guy. Tea is nice, but I prefer my caffeine to taste like liquid gummy bears."
"Foul," Tim laughed. Pointedly, Danny ruffled his wings — fowl — just to get a reaction. Totally worth it, as he got a roll of pretty blue eyes, and Tim also shuffling his wings.
The movement revealed a shimmering blue band hidden on the bottom of Tim's wings near his waist. It took Danny's breath away, shock tightening his vision and the world falling away. All he could see was a single out of place feather among the champagne. There it sat, so neatly nestled in Tim's secondaries, matte black and dull.
Reflexively, Danny's eyes jumped to Tim's face. He swallowed hard and tried to hold his wings still. Had Tim noticed? Had he noticed the blue-banded secondary in Danny's own wing, the single jewel in his damaged wings.
It was a soulmate thing, sharing a single feather with a fated mate. Some latent magic that no one could make sense of, the meta refusing to comply with the laws of magic as the universe understood it. Danny's parents insisted it had something to do with ectoplasm and the Ghost Zone. Probably naively, Danny felt rather romantic about it. It didn't need to make sense. That blue feather was Danny's treasure, a reminder of something beautiful out there in the world, just for him. He always took extra care of it when preening, feeling a little guilty that someone had his plain blackbird feathers.
"There's a cosmic curse, I swear," Tim was saying, though he sounded far away to Danny's ears through the shock. "They follow me, but that's mostly because my family loves them. A bird pun is pretty low effort though," and Tick cocked an eyebrow.
Danny wet his lips. It was torture to keep his eyes from Tim's wings, now that he knew what was there. They'd need to get it confirmed, there were tests at drug stores for it, mass produced easy-cast spells, and Danny had a feeling —.
"Sorry, I'll mocha more effort next time." And he let his wings relax. Sure enough, Tim's eyes dropped and his face did that familiar wobble between surprise-realization-pity Danny knew too well.
But something odd — Tim didn't slide to pity. Instead, he landed hard on realization, eye fixing on the banded feather and freezing there. A breath, a second. Danny watched as Tim's tore away his gaze, finding Danny's eyes.
The chaos of the coffee shop meant nothing to Danny. He felt like he stood in the eye of a storm as he smiled at Tim. Vaguely, he was aware of the barista calling their order. But he couldn't bring himself to look away from Tim Drake.
"Well, I guess it really was cosmic fate."
Danny laughed — it sure was.