Chapter Text
The thing about Green was that he was, objectively, the most put-together member of the Color Gang.
That was the reputation, anyway. The persona. The brand. Green was the socially adept one, the one who could talk his way out of anything, the one who always knew exactly what to say and when to say it. He was the theatrical one, the showman, the guy who could charm an audience and win a fight and make it all look effortless. He had a heart of gold, sure, but he also had a spine of steel and a smile that never cracked.
Tonight, though, the smile was doing a lot of heavy lifting.
It had started so innocently. King Mango had shown up at the gang's shared hangout spot with Purple in tow, looking apologetic and slightly frazzled.
"Emergency meeting," King had said, which was his way of saying I have to go do boring adult stuff and I cannot bring my daughter to it. "Can she stay with you lot for a few hours?"
"Of course," Green had said, because he had manners, and because Red was already bouncing on his heels, and because Blue was already nodding warmly, and because Orange was already pulling out an extra blanket, and because Yellow was already muttering something about showing Purple her latest project.
Purple had looked at them all with that wary, haughty expression she always wore when she wasn't sure she was wanted. "I don't need to be babysat."
"You're not being babysat," Blue had said gently. "You're being visited. There's a difference."
Purple had huffed, but she'd stayed.
That had been four hours ago. Four hours of hanging out, of playing games, of Yellow explaining her latest invention in far too much detail while Red tried to poke it, of Orange making snacks for everyone, of Blue mediating when things got too rowdy, of Purple slowly, slowly relaxing enough to stop looking like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It had been nice. Genuinely nice. Green had been having a good time, the kind of good time where you forget to keep track of time at all.
And then it got cold.
It was a stupid, small thing. The sun had gone down, and the temperature had dropped, and Green—who was wearing a sleeveless top because he had terrible judgment about weather—had shivered.
"Anyone else cold?" he'd asked, rubbing his arms.
And that, apparently, had been the trigger.
Because the next thing Green knew, Orange was scooting closer to him on the couch.
"You're freezing," Orange said, in that warm, caretaker tone he used when he'd decided something needed fixing. "Come here."
And before Green could even process what was happening, Orange had pulled him back until Green's back was pressed against Orange's chest, and Orange's arms had settled loosely around him, and Green's brain had short-circuited.
"Wha—"
"You said you were cold," Orange said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. "I'm warm. Problem solved."
Green opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I— that's— I didn't mean—"
"You're shivering," Orange pointed out, completely unbothered. "Shush."
Green shushed. He didn't know why he shushed. He was Green. He didn't shush. He was the talkative one, the smooth one, the one who always had a quip ready.
But Orange's chest was warm and steady behind him, and Orange's arms were solid and safe, and Green's heart was doing something very strange in his chest, and he couldn't seem to find the words.
This was fine. This was normal. Friends cuddled all the time. This was fine.
And then Red appeared.
Red appeared the way Red appeared in most situations: suddenly, enthusiastically, and with absolutely no warning. One second he was on the other side of the couch, and the next second he had launched himself into Green's lap like a very enthusiastic, very warm, very clingy cat.
"Red—!"
"Mm," Red hummed, already curling up, already settling, already tucking his head against Green's chest. And then— and then he purred.
Green's brain made a sound like a dial-up modem trying to connect.
Red was purring. Red was purring in his lap. Red had his eyes half-closed and his body completely relaxed and he was making a low, rumbling, contented sound that vibrated right through Green's entire being.
"Red," Green said, his voice coming out about three octaves higher than usual. "Red, what are you doing."
"Snuggling," Red said, as if this were obvious. "You're warm now. I'm warm. This is efficient."
"This is— you're purring—"
"Mm-hm. Cats do that. Didn't you know I was basically a cat?"
"You're not basically a cat, you're a whole person—"
"Same thing," Red said happily, and nuzzled closer, and Green's heart did a backflip.
This was fine. This was fine. Red was just being Red, clingy and affectionate and physically incapable of respecting personal space. Green had known this for years. Red had always been like this, always draped over someone, always touching, always warm.
Green had just... never been the one he was draped over. Not like this. Not with Red's breath warm against his collarbone and Red's fingers curling into his shirt and Red's purr rumbling through his chest like a second heartbeat.
Green was going to die. He was going to die right here, on this couch, with Red purring in his lap and Orange's arms around him, and he was going to die confused and flustered and completely unable to explain why his heart was racing.
And then Yellow appeared.
Yellow appeared on his left side, sliding in with a practiced ease that suggested she'd been planning this. She didn't ask. She didn't announce herself. She just settled against his side, her head finding the curve of his shoulder, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
"Hi," Yellow said.
"Yellow," Green managed. "What are you—"
"You're warm," Yellow said, matter-of-fact. "And you looked like you needed a friend. So. Friend." She paused. "Also I'm cold. This is mutually beneficial."
"You're not cold, you're wearing three layers—"
"Emotionally cold," Yellow said. "I crave physical affection. It's a documented scientific phenomenon. I'm conducting an experiment."
"You're not conducting an experiment—"
"I'm always conducting an experiment," Yellow said serenely, and closed her eyes, and Green could smell her now— faintly of ozone and sugar, the way she always smelled after a long day of tinkering, and it was such a Yellow smell, so specific and familiar and her, and Green's heart did another backflip.
This was fine. This was fine. Yellow was just being Yellow, playful and scientific and weirdly affectionate in her own way. Green had known her for years. He'd seen her trip people during playfights, seen her cackle over her inventions, seen her get that manic glint in her eye when she had a new idea.
He'd just never been this close to her. Not like this. Not with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his arm and her breath warm against his neck.
Green was going to combust. He was going to spontaneously combust, right here, and everyone would be very confused about why.
And then Blue appeared.
Blue appeared on his right side, and unlike Yellow's sneaky slide-in, Blue's approach was gentle and deliberate. Blue settled against him slowly, carefully, as if giving Green time to object. Blue's head found his shoulder— the other shoulder, the one Yellow wasn't using— and Blue's leg came up to drape over Red's, and Blue's hand found his.
"Hey," Blue said softly.
"Blue," Green said, and his voice cracked, and he wanted to die.
"You okay?" Blue asked, and there was that look in their eyes, that warm, worried, caring look that Blue always gave when they thought someone needed comforting. "You seem a little tense."
"I'm fine," Green said, too fast. "I'm great. I'm fantastic. This is all very normal and fine and I'm having a completely normal time."
Blue's lips twitched. "Mm. Sure." They squeezed his hand. "You're warm, you know. I can see why everyone's gravitating toward you."
"I'm not— I'm not a heat lamp—"
"You kind of are," Yellow said, not opening her eyes. "It's a documented phenomenon. Green is the group's heat lamp. I'm writing a paper on it."
"You're not writing a paper—"
"I'm always writing a paper."
Green gave up. He gave up on arguing, gave up on protesting, gave up on trying to understand what was happening. He just sat there, sandwiched between Blue and Yellow, with Red purring in his lap and Orange's arms around him, and he tried very hard not to think about how good this felt.
Because that was the problem, wasn't it? It felt good. It felt really good. It felt like being wrapped in warmth and safety and affection, like being held by people who genuinely cared about him, and Green didn't know what to do with that.
Green was the one who took care of things. Green was the one who showed off, who entertained, who made everyone laugh. Green was the one who was always on, always performing, always making sure everyone else was having a good time.
He wasn't supposed to be the one being taken care of. He wasn't supposed to be the one being held.
And yet here he was. Held. Wrapped. Surrounded.
And it was wonderful.
And that was terrifying.
Green closed his eyes and tried to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. The warmth was everywhere now, seeping into him, and he could feel the gentle rhythm of Orange's breathing behind him, and Red's purr against his chest, and Yellow's steady presence on his left, and Blue's hand in his.
This was fine. This was fine. He just had to not think about it. He just had to not think about how Red's hair was soft against his chin, or how Yellow's hand was warm on his arm, or how Blue's thumb was tracing little circles on his palm, or how Orange's arms made him feel so safe.
He just had to not think about it.
And then Purple appeared.
Purple appeared last, because Purple always held back. Purple hovered at the edge of the group, wings half-folded, expression unreadable. She watched them for a long moment, and Green could see the hesitation in her posture, the way she wasn't sure if she was allowed to join.
"You can come over," Blue said gently, noticing her too. "There's room."
Purple's wings twitched. "I don't— I'm not—"
"You're cold too, aren't you?" Orange said, and his voice was warm, inviting. "Come on. There's plenty of room."
Purple hesitated. Green could see the war playing out on her face— the old Purple, the haughty one, the one who didn't need anyone, fighting with the new Purple, the one who wanted to belong.
Green understood that war. He understood it better than he wanted to.
"We don't bite," Green said, and his voice came out softer than he'd intended. "Promise. Well, Red might. But Red's a cat, so it doesn't count."
Red made an indignant sound. "I do not bite."
"You bit me last week."
"That was a play bite. It's different."
"It left a mark."
"Okay, it was a friendly bite."
Purple's lips twitched. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was close. And slowly, carefully, she moved toward them.
She didn't crawl into the pile like Red had. She didn't slide in like Yellow. She approached like someone testing the ice, like someone who wasn't sure the ground would hold her weight.
And then she settled on top of them.
Not beside them. On them. Purple draped herself over the whole pile, wings spreading out like a blanket, covering all of them in a soft, warm canopy. Her weight was light— she was smaller than she looked— and her wings were impossibly soft, and Green felt the warmth settle over him like a blanket.
"Purple," he said, startled.
"Shut up," Purple said, but her voice was soft, and her wings were warm, and she was purring too, a low, contented sound that vibrated through all of them.
Green's brain stopped working.
This was it. This was the final straw. This was the moment where Green's carefully constructed composure crumbled into dust, because he was lying there, wrapped in warmth, covered in wings, surrounded by all five of his best friends, and he was happy.
He was so, so happy.
And he didn't know what to do with that.
---
Green didn't sleep that night.
Well, that wasn't quite true. He slept. He must have slept, because one moment it was dark and everyone was settling in, and the next moment it was morning, and the light was soft and golden through the windows, and Green was still surrounded.
But he didn't remember sleeping. He remembered lying there, heart racing, trying very hard not to think about anything. He remembered the warmth of Orange's chest against his back, the weight of Red in his lap, the softness of Yellow's hair against his shoulder, the gentle pressure of Blue's hand in his, the canopy of Purple's wings above them all.
He remembered thinking, over and over: this is fine, this is normal, friends do this, this doesn't mean anything.
And then morning came, and Green couldn't stop thinking about it.
He woke slowly, the way you wake when you're too comfortable to want to leave. The first thing he noticed was the warmth. It was everywhere, surrounding him, and for a moment he just lay there, soaking it in.
The second thing he noticed was Red's head on his chest, still purring.
The third thing he noticed was that his hand was still in Blue's.
The fourth thing he noticed was that Yellow's head was still on his shoulder.
The fifth thing he noticed was that Orange's arms were still around him.
The sixth thing he noticed was that Purple's wings were still draped over all of them.
And the seventh thing he noticed was that his heart was doing something very complicated in his chest, and he couldn't seem to make it stop.
Green lay there, very still, and he thought.
He thought about Red, who had thrown himself into danger a hundred times to protect them, who was reckless and childish and brave and good, who purred when he was happy and nuzzled when he was content and would literally die for any of them without a second thought.
He thought about Orange, who took care of all of them, who made sure everyone was fed and warm and safe, who held back his own strength during playfights so the others could have a chance, who was gentle and kind and fiercely protective and would stop at nothing if any of them were hurt.
He thought about Yellow, who was brilliant and manic and endlessly curious, who made solutions and problems in equal measure, who dragged them all into her schemes with gleeful enthusiasm, who was playful and smart and wonderful.
He thought about Blue, who was the calm in the storm, who pacified and protected and de-escalated, who ran after them when they were hurt, who was gentle and caring and so, so good.
He thought about Purple, who had started as an enemy and become something so much more, who was prickly and difficult and trying so hard to be better, who had draped her wings over all of them like she was claiming them, like she was protecting them.
And Green thought: oh no.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
Because he was looking at all of them— his best friends, his family, the people he would die for— and he was noticing things. He was noticing how the morning light made Red's hair look almost golden. He was noticing how peaceful Orange looked when he was asleep. He was noticing the little furrow in Yellow's brow that meant she was dreaming about something. He was noticing how Blue's hand fit perfectly in his. He was noticing how Purple's wings caught the light like stained glass.
And his heart was racing, and his face was warm, and he couldn't stop noticing.
Green had a lot of experience with feelings. He was the theatrical one, the emotional one, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve. He knew what it felt like to care about someone, to want to protect someone, to love someone.
But this was different.
This was different.
Because this wasn't just caring. This wasn't just friendship. This was the way his heart skipped when Red smiled at him. This was the way his face warmed when Orange called him "kiddo." This was the way he wanted to make Yellow laugh, wanted to see Blue's gentle smile, wanted to earn Purple's trust.
This was crushes.
Multiple crushes.
Five crushes.
Green had five crushes.
On all of his best friends.
On all of his beautiful, wonderful, amazing best friends.
Green lay there, surrounded by warmth, covered in wings, holding Blue's hand, and he stared at the ceiling, and he thought: I am so, so done.
