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Joel had long since accepted that existing near Grian meant living in a constant state of mild crisis. It wasn’t even dramatic anymore; it was just weather. Like rain. Or sudden lightning strikes. Or a chicken appearing where there absolutely should not be a chicken. So when he woke up that morning to the sound of something clattering violently in the storage room followed by Jimmy yelling “I DIDN’T DO IT THIS TIME,” Joel didn’t even bother sitting up immediately. He just stared at the ceiling for a moment, listening, as if the universe might give him a warning label before the day properly began. It did not.
By the time he wandered out of their shared base, hair a mess and sword half-slung like he’d forgotten whether he was supposed to be a warrior or a mildly inconvenienced farmer, Jimmy was already in the middle of an argument with a chest. That wasn’t unusual either. What was unusual was Grian standing nearby, perfectly still, staring at nothing with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for people trying not to fall off cliffs or accidentally start wars. Joel narrowed his eyes immediately. Something about it felt off. Not “Grian is currently committing a crime” off, which was normal, but “Grian has briefly stopped being Grian” off, which was significantly more concerning.
“You alright?” Joel called, voice loud enough to shake dust off the rafters. Grian didn’t respond right away. He blinked slowly, like the concept of sound had to travel a long distance to reach him. Jimmy looked up at the same time, expression already shifting into suspicion.
“Grian?” Jimmy tried.
Grian turned his head very slightly. “Yes.”
Joel frowned. That was it. Just “yes.” No sarcasm. No bite. No immediate accusation that Joel had done something vaguely offensive in the last five seconds. That alone was suspicious enough to warrant intervention.
“What are you doing?” Joel asked, stepping closer.
“Waiting,” Grian said.
“For what?” Jimmy asked.
A pause. Too long. Joel felt his concern sharpen into something more instinctive, the way it did when someone stood too close to lava or tried to pet something that clearly wanted them dead.
Grian blinked again. “I don’t remember.”
Silence. Even Jimmy stopped moving.
Joel slowly looked at Jimmy. Jimmy slowly looked back.
“That’s not normal,” Jimmy said carefully.
“No,” Joel agreed. Then, louder, because subtlety had never been one of his talents: “Grian, mate, what’s wrong with you?”
“I’m fine,” Grian said immediately, a little too fast, which was at least familiar. The tone was wrong though. Usually when Grian said he was fine, it meant he was planning something deeply irritating. This time it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Jimmy stepped closer. “You look like you’ve been hit with a shovel.”
“I have not been hit with a shovel.”
“Yet,” Joel added, because he was a kind man.
Grian squinted at him. Then, very slowly, he tried to walk away, immediately misjudged a step, and nearly walked directly into a chest. Joel caught him by the shoulder before impact, mostly out of reflex and partly because watching a storage system concuss Grian at close range was not how Joel wanted his morning to go.
“Right,” Joel said, steadying him. “We’re stopping this.”
“I’m fine,” Grian repeated again, stubbornly, like repetition alone could overwrite reality.
Then he sneezed.
It wasn’t a normal sneeze. It was a catastrophic event. Grian jerked forward hard enough to stumble sideways, wings twitching out instinctively, feathers flaring as if his entire body had briefly forgotten how balance worked.
Joel stared.
Jimmy stared.
Grian straightened up with as much dignity as he could salvage, which was not much. “I’m fine,” he insisted, hoarse now.
Joel exhaled slowly. “You’re not fine.”
“I am.”
“You just sneezed like an atom bomb went off,” Jimmy said.
“I have allergies.”
“In a cave?” Joel asked flatly.
Grian opened his mouth, then closed it again. That was new too. Normally he’d already be halfway through inventing a completely fictional explanation involving ancient curses or "severe weather abnormalities.”
Joel felt something settle in his chest. Not panic exactly. More like irritation sharpened into concern. He gestured vaguely toward Grian. “Sit down.”
“I don’t need to sit down.”
“You are sitting down,” Joel said.
“I—”
Jimmy stepped in and, with far more caution than usual, gently pushed Grian toward a nearby bench. To everyone’s surprise, Grian didn’t resist much. That was perhaps the most alarming part of all.
They got him seated. For a moment, Grian just stared at the ground. Joel watched him carefully, arms crossed, trying to decide if this was illness, sleep deprivation, or some elaborate scheme that had yet to reveal its punchline. With Grian, it was always one of those three. Or all three at once.
“You’ve been like this all morning?” Joel asked.
Jimmy nodded. “He tried to mine stone with bread.”
“I was multitasking,” Grian muttered.
Joel pointed at him. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is if you believe hard enough.”
“That’s not how reality works,” Jimmy said.
Grian shrugged weakly, then leaned back against the wall. For a second, Joel thought he might actually fall asleep sitting upright, which was so out of character it made his unease spike again.
Jimmy crouched slightly. “When did you last sleep properly?”
“I sleep,” Grian said immediately.
Joel gave him a look.
Grian hesitated. “…recently.”
“That means last week,” Joel translated.
Grian opened his mouth again, then stopped. His eyes drifted shut for half a second before snapping open again like his body had briefly betrayed him. Joel exchanged another look with Jimmy.
“Right,” Joel said decisively. “You’re ill.”
“I am not ill.”
“You’re arguing with a blink and losing,” Jimmy said.
“The blink is unreasonable.”
Joel sighed. “We’re fixing this.”
“We are not—” Grian started, but Joel was already walking away.
“Jimmy,” Joel called. “Water. Food. Whatever birds eat when they’re being dramatic.”
“I am not a bird,” Grian called weakly after him.
Joel didn’t bother turning around. “Yeah, yeah.“
——
By midday, Joel had accepted that “fixing this” was going to be significantly more annoying than anticipated. Grian had not improved. If anything, he had deteriorated into a state that could best be described as “confused and perhaps intoxicated statue that occasionally insults people.”
Jimmy had produced soup from somewhere suspiciously fast, and Grian had immediately claimed he wasn’t hungry before eating half of it without blinking. Joel had not commented on this contradiction out loud, mostly because he was too busy watching for signs of imminent collapse.
The problem was that Grian still insisted on moving. Every time Joel or Jimmy tried to get him to stay still, he would manage about five minutes of compliance before attempting to wander off like his body had forgotten it was supposed to be attached to consequences. At one point Joel had to physically redirect him away from a cliff edge, which had resulted in Grian looking vaguely offended, as if gravity was personally insulting him.
“You are unbelievably irritating when you’re like this,” Joel said later, as they forced Grian to sit again, this time wrapped in what Jimmy had decided was “a sensible number of blankets,” which turned out to be three.
“I am not like anything,” Grian said, fighting the blankets like a straitjacket.
“You’re like a problem,” Joel said.
“A manageable one,” Jimmy added.
Grian shook his head slightly, hair even more disheveled than usual. “I don’t need blankets.”
“You absolutely do,” Jimmy said.
“I am overheating.”
“You are shivering,” Joel corrected.
“I am not shivering.”
Grian shivered.
Joel pointed at him. “That.”
Grian narrowed his eyes. “That was a coincidence.”
Jimmy deadpanned. “Your body disagrees with you.”
Joel stepped back, folding his arms. Despite everything, there was something almost… off about how quickly Grian was accepting being handled. Normally he’d be clawing his way out of this situation just out of spite alone. Instead, he was sitting there, half-swallowed by blankets, blinking slowly like the world was slightly too bright and slightly too loud.
Joel didn’t like it. Not because it was inconvenient— it wasn’t— but because it meant Grian was too tired to fight them properly.
That was worse.
“Stay here,” Joel said finally, tone inviting no argument.
“I don’t take orders,” Grian mumbled automatically.
“You are literally wrapped in three layers of defeat,” Joel said. “You are staying.”
Grian opened his mouth to respond, then paused, thinking. Then he said, very quietly, “That’s unfair.”
Joel blinked. That was almost… plaintive.
Jimmy must have noticed too, because his voice softened slightly. “We’re just trying to keep you from falling over.”
“I do not fall over,” Grian said.
Joel raised an eyebrow.
“…often,” Grian added.
“Right,” Joel said. “Great.”
For a while, they just sat there. It should have been boring, but with Grian involved nothing was ever truly still. Even now, wrapped up and subdued, he kept shifting slightly like he was trying to find a version of sitting that didn’t feel like betrayal.
Joel leaned against a nearby wall, watching him. Jimmy sat on the ground, fiddling with something useless. The silence stretched. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t normal either. Bad Boys silence usually meant something was about to explode.
This just felt… tired.
Joel didn’t like that feeling either.
Then Grian spoke again, softer than before. “I’m not being… annoying, am I?”
Joel scoffed immediately. “You’re always annoying.”
Jimmy nodded. “Consistently.”
Grian stared at them. Joel expected an argument. A comeback. Something sharp and sarcastic and irritatingly clever.
Instead, Grian just nodded slowly and leaned back again, eyes half-lidded.
Joel frowned. That wasn’t right.
A few seconds passed.
Then Jimmy, casually, as if testing something, walked over and draped a spare blanket over Grian’s head like a hood.
Grian froze.
There was a pause.
Joel watched.
Then, very suddenly, Grian’s entire posture changed. His shoulders dropped. His wings slackened. His head tilted forward slightly.
“…what,” Joel said slowly.
Grian made a small sound.
Then he went completely still.
Joel stepped closer. “Grian?”
No response.
Jimmy blinked. “Did he just—”
“Fall asleep?” Joel finished.
He reached out and carefully lifted the edge of the blanket.
Grian’s eyes opened instantly. He blinked up at them, disoriented. “What?”
Joel stared.
Jimmy stared.
Joel slowly lowered the blanket again.
Within seconds, Grian’s eyes closed.
He was asleep.
Jimmy blinked very slowly. “No.”
Joel whispered, “That’s not normal.”
Jimmy pointed at Grian. “That is not normal.”
Joel looked at him. “Parrot thing?”
Jimmy stared harder. “Why is that a thing?”
From under the blanket, Grian shifted slightly and made a faint, content noise.
Jimmy took a step back.
“…we can use this,” Joel said slowly.
Jimmy turned to him. “Absolutely not.”
Joel raised an eyebrow.
Jimmy hesitated before looking back at Grian.
Then back at Joel.
“…fine,” Jimmy said. “But only for emergencies.”
Joel grinned.
Jimmy sighed, rubbing his face. “We are going to regret this.”
From under the blanket, Grian snored softly.
And for once, Joel didn’t argue with the silence.
——
Jimmy had always suspected that living with Joel and Grian meant accepting a certain level of inevitability when it came to things making sense. Still, there was a difference between “minor chaos involving explosions, theft, and emotional damage” and “discovering Grian could be accidentally put to sleep by what amounted to a bedsheet.”
He crouched beside said sleeping man, who was currently unconscious in a heap of blankets like someone had tried to tuck a storm into bed and somehow succeeded. It was unsettling how quickly he’d gone still. Grian, when awake, was rarely still in any meaningful sense of the word. Even when standing completely motionless he somehow managed to feel like he was about to sprint, argue, or fall off something tall. Now he just… wasn’t.
Jimmy poked him gently.
Nothing.
He poked him again, slightly harder, because curiosity had never once been discouraged in his life and was now actively being rewarded with confusing information.
Still nothing.
Joel, standing nearby with the posture of someone who had just been handed a problem he didn’t order, looked down at him. “Don’t break him.”
“I’m not breaking him,” Jimmy said, far too quickly. Then, more thoughtfully, “I think he’s just… off.”
Joel made a noise that might have been agreement or mild existential dread.
Jimmy tilted his head. “So parrots do this?”
“I don’t know,” Joel snapped immediately. “I don’t hang around many parrots.”
Jimmy looked at Grian again. That was fair. Grian wasn’t exactly what most people would describe as a standard hybrid. Standard hybrids didn’t commit burglary or argue with storage systems. Standard hybrids also didn’t complain loudly about unfair treatment while asleep.
Still.
There was something oddly soft about it. Not Grian himself, obviously— he was still Grian, even unconscious, which meant he still looked vaguely like he might wake up at any second and insult the concept of life— but the way the blankets had just… shut him off. Like someone had flipped a switch.
Jimmy glanced at Joel. Joel was already looking at Grian like he expected him to explode or start a monologue about betrayal.
“I think we should test it,” Joel said.
Jimmy slowly turned his head. “No.”
Joel nodded as if Jimmy had simply added a suggestion. “Right. We should test it carefully.”
“That is the same thing,” Jimmy said.
Joel ignored him and reached for another spare blanket. He held it up thoughtfully. “If it works on him instantly, it might be a general parrot thing.”
Jimmy crossed his arms. “Why would we need to know that?”
Joel hesitated.
Then, honestly, “Because it’s funny.”
Jimmy stared at him for a long moment. Joel stared back.
Jimmy sighed like the world had personally inconvenienced him. “One test.”
Joel grinned.
——
The problem with testing things in the Bad Boys base was that “controlled experiment” was more of a suggestion than a methodology. There were too many variables. Mostly Jimmy.
He started small.
“Right,” Jimmy said, turning to Joel. “Stand still.”
“No.”
“Joel. You’re the one who wanted to test this.”
Joel didn’t move. “Not on me, idiot!”
Jimmy took a step closer, squinting at him like he was trying to solve a particularly rude puzzle. Joel looked unimpressed, which was his default expression but felt more pointed today.
“This is ridiculous,” Joel said.
Jimmy hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe it only works on Grian.”
Joel opened his mouth to respond—
Jimmy threw the blanket.
It landed cleanly over Joel’s head.
There was a pause.
A very important pause.
Joel stood completely still.
Jimmy leaned forward.
Nothing happened.
Joel slowly lifted the blanket off his face. “I am going to kill you.”
Jimmy blinked. “Okay, so not universal.”
Joel dropped the blanket onto the ground like it had offended him personally. “Why would you think it was universal?”
Jimmy shrugged. “You suggested the test, not me bud.”
Joel made a sound of pure frustration and turned away.
Jimmy, however, was already thinking. That was the thing Joel never quite accounted for. Jimmy didn’t stop when something didn’t immediately work. He just recalculated.
And Jimmy, unfortunately, was not good at math.
Grian, still asleep, shifted slightly in his blanket nest, making a small noise that sounded vaguely like contentment or judgment. Jimmy stared at him again.
“Maybe it’s not just the blanket,” Jimmy said slowly.
Joel didn’t respond.
Jimmy continued, more to himself now. “Maybe it’s like… timing. Or how it’s placed. Or—”
“Or,” Joel interrupted flatly, “it’s a Grian problem.”
Jimmy considered this.
Then nodded. “Yeah, but it’s a useful Grian problem.”
Joel gave him a look that suggested he was one bad idea away from being physically restrained.
Jimmy ignored that too.
——
It turned out to be easy to replicate.
Too easy.
Jimmy had always thought magic— if that was what this counted as— should be more dramatic. More glowing runes, more thunder, more at least a small warning label. Instead, it was just fabric and timing.
They tested it again carefully.
Jimmy placed a blanket over Grian’s shoulders while he was still asleep. No reaction.
Joel lifted it slightly.
Grian stirred.
Jimmy replaced it.
Grian immediately settled again.
Joel slowly turned his head toward Jimmy. “That is… actually working.”
Jimmy grinned. “I know.”
Joel pointed at Grian. “This is dangerous.”
“It’s convenient,” Jimmy corrected.
Joel looked like he was reconsidering his entire understanding of reality.
Jimmy, meanwhile, had stolen all of Joel’s enthusiasm and was already halfway down the path of weaponized knowledge. Not in a malicious way. More in a “this is going to be extremely useful for controlling chaos” way.
Because Grian, when awake, was chaos.
And now there was an off switch.
——
It didn’t take long for them to start using it improperly.
Grian woke up briefly once— just long enough to start complaining about the indignity of being “wrapped like furniture”— before Jimmy, with the calm efficiency of someone who had never been trusted with power before and was immediately thriving, draped a blanket over his head again.
Immediate silence.
Joel stared at him.
Jimmy shrugged. “Problem solved.”
Joel rubbed his temples. “That is not solving the problem. That is pausing the problem.”
Jimmy nodded. “Exactly.”
Joel made a noise that suggested he was re-evaluating whether he should have ever moved in.
Still, even he couldn’t deny it was effective. Grian stayed asleep longer than he had all day. He wasn’t twitching, wasn’t trying to escape, wasn’t arguing with invisible moral authorities. Just… still.
Quiet.
Jimmy found himself watching him more than he expected. Not in a worrying way. Just… noticing. Grian always felt like motion. Like he couldn’t exist without pushing against something. Seeing him like this made the world feel slightly off-balance, like a lever had been moved and they hadn’t quite seen what it did yet.
Joel noticed too, eventually.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, arms crossed, looking down at Grian like he was trying to decide whether to be annoyed at him or relieved.
Jimmy spoke first, quieter now. “He’ll be fine, right?”
Joel scoffed immediately. “It’s Grian.”
Jimmy nodded. That wasn’t an answer, but it was also the closest thing Joel ever gave to reassurance.
A pause.
Then Joel added, grudgingly, “He always is.”
That, for some reason, sat heavier than the joke.
Jimmy looked away quickly, pretending to adjust the blanket pile.
——
By the time evening rolled around, the system had evolved.
They had rules now.
Blanket = sleep initiation.
Removal = wakefulness.
Double blanket = instant shutdown (unconfirmed but heavily suspected).
Ethical and moral concerns (ignored at least twice).
Grian, when conscious, was not thrilled about any of this. When unconscious, he was blissfully unaware of the fact that his friends had discovered what amounted to a remote control.
At one point, Joel suggested they stop “experimenting.”
Jimmy suggested they call it “medical research.”
Joel suggested Jimmy shut up.
Jimmy did not.
Grian slept through all of it.
——
It wasn’t until later— properly later, when the sky had gone dark and the base had settled into that quiet, slightly dangerous stillness it always got after a long day— that Grian started to wake up again.
No blanket this time.
He blinked slowly, sitting up, feathers slightly ruffled, expression blank in the way that meant his brain was still reconnecting itself.
“…what happened?” he asked.
Joel immediately answered, “You died.”
Grian squinted at him. “No I didn’t.”
Jimmy added helpfully, “You were very annoying.”
Grian looked between them.
Then, slowly, “I was sick.”
Joel nodded. “Extremely.”
Grian frowned. “I don’t like that.”
Jimmy grinned. “We don’t like you like that either.”
That earned a weak glare, which was immediately more normal and therefore reassuring.
Grian stretched, wings flaring slightly. “I feel better.”
Joel shrugged. “Good. You were awful.”
“I was not awful.”
“You tried to mine with bread,” Jimmy reminded him.
“That was efficiency.”
“It was madness,” Joel corrected.
Grian opened his mouth to argue—
Jimmy, without thinking, reached for a nearby blanket.
Grian froze.
Silence.
Joel slowly turned his head toward Jimmy.
Jimmy looked at Grian.
Grian looked at the blanket.
“…don’t,” Grian said carefully.
Jimmy raised it slightly.
Joel started laughing.
Grian’s eyes widened.
“Timmy,” he said, voice sharpening.
Jimmy took one step forward.
Grian took one step back.
Joel was fully laughing now.
“Timmy,” Grian warned again, but there was no real bite to it anymore. Just exhaustion and suspicion and the dawning realization that he had made a catastrophic mistake in ever letting them learn this.
Jimmy paused.
Then grinned.
Joel wiped a hand over his face, still laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”
Grian glared at both of them. “Put it down.”
Jimmy tilted his head. “Or what?”
Grian stared at him for a long moment.
Then, very quietly, “Joel.”
Joel barely managed to stop laughing long enough to look up. “Yeah?”
Grian pointed at Jimmy. “Tell him to stop.”
Joel opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
A grin slowly spread across his face instead.
He looked at Jimmy.
And said, far too casually,
“Wait, Timmy, if this is a bird thing, does it work on you?”
There was a beat.
Then Grian laughed.
Properly laughed.
And immediately, still laughing, lunged for the blanket.