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The tree near their house is the perfect place for Derlord to sit down and relax.
The weather of the last few days had been devastating to his delicate feathers. Sensitive as they have always been, they absorb rather than repel water and have turned ruffled.
The sun has replaced the dark clouds, though, heat suffocating and cascading over the world in bright, blinding colors.
If moisture bothers him and his plumage, the hot weather is not any better, especially with the lack of wind. Not that he’s dressed right for the occasion: his armor is scalding him and his tunic is damp with sweat. Still, he doesn’t remove it. He can stand having it on for a little longer for his petty pride. Not his helmet, though; it lies discarded at the roots of the tree.
He unclasps his cloak and smooths it over on the grass, feeling it is still wet and shiny from the rain. At least he’s wearing his gauntlet. Wet grass is not pleasant to the touch.
He grabs his journal and writes in it. It’s a habit he’s recently picked back up after his whole incident with the King in Yellow. He doesn’t need to reminisce (he knows and remembers everything, after all), it’s a pastime to practice writing all the languages he’s learned. Knowing is not the same as doing, if the egg he burned for breakfast is of indication.
The words flow from the tip of the black quill, the same color as most of his feathers. His headache is low, the infinite knowledge having relented with time. He can focus on his own thoughts most of the time without relapsing.
Galactic, binary, runes. He writes half a page and stops.
It’s way too quiet.
He looks up and around. Avery is not at the sheep’s fence, nor at the stables. He furrows his brows, his little white wings on either side of the face spread wide in alarm.
Did he go hunting?
Unlikely. They still have plenty of food in the pantry. If any were missing, they could get the vegetables in the garden.
He gets up, grunt escaping his lips. He was really comfortable in his cozy, cool space.
It takes him a couple of steps and getting under the sun that Avery comes into view.
He, and a swarm of angry bees.
“DeEEreEEEeek—”
Avery runs past him so fast that his wings, both the small and the big cascading behind his back like hair, fly with the wind that has risen by the slime’s passage. The bees buzz past him shortly after.
Splash.
He walks to the only pond they have nearby.
The bees circle the surface of the water erratically, looking for Avery who’s taken refuge underwater.
He meets Avery’s eyes and huffs. Avery grins, mouth closed, points up at the surface of the water and slides his hand horizontally, through his neck.
Yeah, they want to sting you badly.
He can’t really do anything but wait. The bees are necessary for their honey production, and he can’t kill them just because Avery, somehow, has messed up.
If he could choose, he’d rather have no honey at all. The golden hue gives him bad flashbacks.
After a solid minute, the bees calm down. They fly away with muffled hums, and each of them goes to collect pollen from the nearby flowers.
Avery propels himself up and takes a sharp breath in.
“Whoa, they’ve relented!”
He swims to the bank and grabs a tuft of grass. Derlord grabs him and pulls him up, stepping back to give him space.
Avery is dripping from head to toe, a mixture of water and slime lands on his feet.
“Thanks, Derek!” Avery smiles and Derlord turns away, blush forming on his cheeks. His wings flap once in acknowledgement.
Without his helmet on, it’s easier to tell what he’s feeling. He’s learning to show his face around more often for the sake of Avery, but he’s not used to it just yet.
“What happened?” He asks once he can speak without a crack in his voice.
“I went to collect honey!” Avery squeezes a handful of water from his jacket. “But I didn’t realize that the campfires were out because of the rain… so of course they chased me!”
Derlord sighs, arms crossed in his chest. “Typical of you.”
Avery imitates him, with puffed cheeks and squinted eyes. “Wow, thanks for worrying and asking, I’m doing just fine!”
“I didn’t worry because it’s unlikely the bees would have hurt you with your particular… anatomy.”
Avery pouts. “It’s still annoying when I have to remove their stinger though!” Avery relaxes and removes his jacket and shirt. “It tingles and it takes me a loong time to close the wounds.”
“Mhm.” Derlord turns his eyes away. “Give me your clothes and your shorts, too. I’ll go hang them.”
“Aw, too shy to look at me?” Avery teases with a playful tone.
A shuffle, and another weight adds to his arm holding Avery’s clothes.
“Can you get me some slime balls too?”
“Of course.”
He takes a couple steps towards the house.
“Oh, uh—Der—” Avery’s sudden concerned tone makes him pause.
“Aren’t you boiling with that thing on?”
—Maybe Derlord should take up on his offer. The heat has now become intolerable.
He moves to remove the belts of his cuirass. His eyes wander on Avery, who is holding his breath and follows every single movement of his hands.
He drops his hands to the side.
“I’ll be back soon.”
He hears Avery exhale his breath and yell at the unfairness. Derlord laughs and goes behind the house, in the garden. He hangs Avery’s clothes, removes his armor as fast as he can and decides at the last second to ditch the black tunic and let his smaller feathers breathe. Only his leggings and boots are on. He takes a bowl of slime balls, a change for Avery, and goes back.
He finds him at the bench near the sheep pen, half-melted. He hastens.
“Avery.” He pushes the bowl in his hands. “Eat.”
“Ohhh Derek…” Avery giggles. His side of the bench is coated in slime, hair splattered around his face. “You are naked…”
Derlord frowns. His cheeks burn. “I am not naked.” He grabs a slime ball and pushes it against Avery’s mouth. “Please, Avery. Eat.”
Avery finally complies. Derlord waits for him to swallow the first ball, then gives him another. After a few minutes, the bowl is empty and Avery has recovered most of his slime back. He’s less liquid and more solid.
“Whoa, sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you for real now.”
“Leave it. It’s terrible today.” Derlord tries to remove a bead of sweat from his forehead. It’s still wet.
Avery leans with his back forward. How hot must the bench be?
“Maybe we should sit on the grass? I am mostly dry now and—oh—thanks for the clothes!”
Avery gets up and dresses. Derlord stares, his expression neutral, but his darkened cheeks and wings spread open betray say otherwise.
Avery stops with his spare shirt covering only half his chest. “… Why can you look at me half naked but I can’t look at you?”
“Because I have modesty, unlike you.”
“I am modest!” Avery lets the shirt fall over his body and smiles. “I know I look great and want to show off for you.”
“Avery.”
Avery laughs and sits on the grass in front of Derlord. “I am joking. You can look all you want! Or I can undress again if you ask me.”
“Please don’t.”
Derlord passes a hand in front of his face. That’s why his helmet is so dear to him, Avery doesn’t need to know what he is really thinking in his twisted mind. It’s enough that Avery has picked up on wings gesture and body language, somehow. They can read each other pretty well by now, but for Derlord, it’s a disadvantage.
Avery smiles and pats the empty spot next to him. “Sit with me?”
“Actually, we could just go sit under the tree. I left my cloak there.”
“Oh! Good idea, I can’t stand the sun for another second.”
They walk back together and sit next to each other, Avery with a raised knee and arm resting on the leg. Derlord uses his little wings to blow wind on his face, while his bigger wings stretch to either side. He frowns at a feather that is so brittle he’s sure it would break if he touched it.
“You look so sweaty, man.” Avery says suddenly. “How were you holding up with all that gold on you?”
Derlord coughs. “I am… used to it.”
He’s regretting being bare-chested. Or rather, feather-chested. He smiles at his pun.
“Hmm. I think you’re just stubborn.” Avery leans against the tree trunk. “You talk so much that I should take care of myself, you forget to take care of yourself too. You looked like you could faint any second back there!”
Derlord blinks. He hadn’t even realized how much he had been pushing his body to the extreme.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. There’s more to it, actually.”
“You got a reason for suffering with armor on a hot day?”
Derlord reaches out the ruined feather and brushes it with a slight touch of his fingers. It crumbles on the grass, blending with the surroundings. Avery gasps.
“My feathers are not working as they should be. I’ve been having trouble regulating my temperature lately.”
Avery raises an eyebrow. “And you thought that metal would work?”
“Not very smart of me, I know.” Derlord makes a strained smile. “Preening is a lot of work to do every time. With everything that’s happened and my own complacency, I have been neglecting it.”
Avery gives no reply. His eyes linger on Derlord’s weakened feathers, which is something he’s always done ever since they met the first time.
Derlord doesn’t think much of it. His thoughts are quiet, for once, the King’s lingering presence on him slipping away as days pass. He’s seen some of his feathers going back to their original color, and he can’t wait to be his own self once more. The process may require years or never end before he passes away, but he’s patient enough to watch most of the wretched yellow disappear from his own body.
“Do you want help with preening?”
Avery’s voice breaches through his thoughts like a skeleton’s arrow. He snaps his head towards him, wings trembling from the sudden question.
“I mean—” Avery blushes and scratches the back of his head. “Well—I know that’s sacred to you and your species and all, but since we are boyfriends or… how you called us once, mates, I wouldn’t mind helping you is all…”
The feathers on Derlord’s neck ruffle up along with the rest of his hair. He shifts his gaze around, anything is more interesting to look at but Avery’s flustered face.
“You don’t have to say yes, you know…” Avery whispers, disappointment clear in his tone, and Derlord’s heart hurts from hearing him.
He takes a deep breath. He wants to say yes. It’s a simple three letters word he could say and be done with it. It’s not the end of the world if he admits to something for once. Avery is always straightforward with him in everything, especially with his desires. It’s fair that he tries to be clear about what he wants as well.
He takes one of Avery’s hands in his. He got this.
“I—I would love to, Avery.”
Maybe that’s a bit too much.
Still, Avery grins and tightens the grip of his hand. “Really???”
“Mhm.” Derlord nods. His cheeks burn but it’s not his priority right now. “I-I have my preening kit in the bedroom, second drawer by the bedside table. The key is under my pillow.”
Avery’s eyes dart from his own hand trapped in Derlord’s to his flushed face. His grin gets wider. “I’ll be back right away! Don’t move!”
He struggles with getting up in one motion, but finds his balance again. He runs back at the house and disappears behind the entrance door.
Derlord sighs, a tiny smile curves his lips, and massages one of his healthier feathers among his hair.
He glances at the journal he had left with his cloak, grabs it and jots some thoughts down.
Avery returns as chaotically as he had left, losing one of his sandals along the way.
“I am back!” Smile plastered on his face, he opens the kit for Derlord. “I don’t know a thing about preening, so you have to guide me in the process!”
Derlord can’t help but giggle.
He points to a bottle in the box. “This is oil for the feathers. You spread it from the root to the tip in the growing direction of the feather.”
Avery grabs the bottle. “How should I spread it?”
“Palm down in a straight motion.”
“Okay!”
Derlord turns to the side and Avery sits behind him, spreading all his wings horizontally for easier access. The bottle pops open and he feels Avery’s fingers gliding on his smaller wings first. He exhales, the sudden realization that he had held his breath until that moment.
It is different from when he preens himself. Avery is slow and careful, his slimy digits only brushing against his feathers. The oil smooths over, chilly and refreshing against the heat of that day.
Derlord relaxes his shoulders and closes his eyes. He focuses on Avery’s soft touches, who moves from both of his head wings to the hair ones. He sighs in relief, could even fall asleep just like this. It feels right and at home.
“Oh.” Avery retracts his hand.
Derlord opens his eyes and turns to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Um… some of my slime got mixed with the oil. S-sorry.”
Derlord makes a tentative move with his feathers. “It doesn’t feel any different.”
He imagines the green against the dark color of his feathers. Avery once argued his neck feathers were green too, but they’re actually not. They lean more towards a warmer blue. The green of Avery’s slime is brighter and even warmer.
“I can go grab some gloves if it bothers you—”
“No, it doesn’t.” He smiles. “You can continue, unless you have some illness that spreads to birds.”
“I-I do not!”
He wishes he could see it. Green is better than gold or yellow.
Avery resumes the massage, Derlord repositions himself with his back straight.
“You can press your fingers little further. It doesn’t hurt.” He whispers.
“What if one of your feathers break though?”
“Don’t worry, they’ll regrow.”
The pressure on his feathers is stronger, enough to feel every single finger sliding through. His heart squeezes at the care and attention Avery is putting into the task. It’s trivial and unnecessary, but very appreciated.
“Is this okay?”
“It’s very nice.” He murmurs.
Avery stops for a second before rubbing more oil.
He closes his eyes once more.
He doesn’t realize he has dozed off with a pleasant hum until Avery touches his shoulder and speaks in his ear.
“Derek? I’m done here, what should I do next?”
He snaps his eyes open and looks at Avery grinning at him.
“Was I that good you fell asleep? That’s great!”
Derlord huffs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. You did great.”
Avery’s cheeks grow darker, but doesn’t stop smiling.
His wings feel lighter and moisturized. Some of the broken feathers lie around him. Derlord moves a wing to the front to assess the damage.
“I thought it would be worse.”
“Yeah, me too! So, what next?”
Derlord searches for the box and grabs a comb from the side. It’s different from the kind used to brush human hair, more akin to a tweezer from the thickness of the two opposite teeth.
“This is used for combing, it spreads the oil evenly and straightens the feathers.”
Avery takes the tool and rotates it in his hand. “Looks like a bird’s beak to me. It’s not a real beak though, is it?”
Derlord laughs. “No, nothing like that.”
Avery sighs in relief. “That’s good to know! So, how do I use it? Like a comb?”
“Like this.”
He takes the comb-tweezer back from Avery. One hand on his left wing, another holding the tool, he slides the feathers between the two teeth in a slow, slightly curved motion. Avery watches him attentively, eyes so wide they could pop out and fall on the grass.
Derlord holds a laugh and lets go.
“Ohh… I got it!”
Avery gets back and tries the same motion on the same feathers. “Does it hurt?”
“No—just a little. Go slower.”
The pull gets looser and gentler. Derlord stands still as Avery works on his other wing. Another broken feather lands in the grass.
Avery frowns, but continues and moves behind Derlord.
“How many times do you need to do this?”
“Hmm. Ideally, once a day. Practically, I would skip some and do it every two or three days—ouch.”
“Sorry! Nasty feather that has fallen down. I’ll be more careful.”
Avery tugs some of the old feathers. Some hurt more than others, but Derlord lets him finish the job. The work on his hair-wings is long and tedious, and Avery makes frustrating sounds when he can’t deal with a more difficult feather properly.
By the time they’re done, the sun has sank lower. It’s probably early afternoon.
“There! Are we done now?” Avery comes to sit next to him and throws the comb-tweezers in the box and stretches his arms in the air with a satisfied hum.
Derlord grabs one of his big wings and slides a hand through them. His feathers feel completely different, all smoothed out and stronger. Some of the rays catch the iridescent ones and they reflect the light like tiny little stars.
Derlord is at a loss for words. “You did a pretty good job, Avery... Even better than what I usually do.”
Avery laughs. “Oh come on, no need to flatter me!”
“I’m being honest.”
“Well—I just wanted to help you out. It can become our new routine!” Avery’s cheek got dark as he said his words.
Cute.
“It’s not a bad idea.” He feels too relaxed to overthink his words now. “It would help a lot.”
“They already look prettier!” Avery blurts out and looks at the sky. Derlord laughs.
“Wow, it’s gotten so late already!” Avery gets up and brushes his clothes out of some blades of grass. “Soup for lunch?”
Derlord follows him. All his wings stretch out outwardly. “Soup sounds good.”
“Gotcha!”
Avery makes a couple steps back towards the house.
“Avery.”
“Hm?”
Derlord closes the distance between them. His hands go on Avery’s hips and he kisses him before his thoughts can catch him.
Avery goes still, eyes widening. He quickly catches Derlord and pulls him even closer and joins the kiss.
The pull is too strong, though, and they land on the grass. Derlord catches himself with his hands, wings hovering high so that they don’t get ruined. Avery lands on his back with a squish, and laughs.
“Was that a thank you kiss?”
Derlord smirks. “Maybe.”
Avery pulls him for another, hands going in his wing-hair and stroking with the same care he had with preening.
Derlord sighs in his mouth and cradles Avery’s face in his hands. He lets his body relax completely against Avery’s, his wings curve to shield them from the sun.
Avery is the first to part from him, short of breath. “You could have waited until we were inside…”
“I wasn’t expecting to fall with you in the first place.” Derlord smiles and caresses Avery’s cheek with his thumb. He’s still softer because of the weather, but he has learned to tolerate and even enjoy the drops of slime in his hands.
“My bad. I forget how strong I can actually be!” Avery leans to the touch. “We should really get up, though, what if you ruin all my hard work on your feather if you roll in the grass?”
“Who said I would roll in the grass?” Derlord chuckles. “Hmm, now that you mention it, I do feel the urge to indulge a little—”
“I was joking!”
They both laugh.
Avery moves his hand to Derlord’s cheek and leans to kiss his forehead.
“One last kiss?”
Derlord doesn’t reply. He closes his eyes and meets Avery’s lips once more.