Chapter Text
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“Your results never cease to amaze me, Parrot.”
Parrot turned toward the voice. The man had blue eyes with an air of forced calm, a short beard from not having shaved recently, his feet pointed toward the door as he stood tense, as though he wanted to leave immediately, his tail lashing against the floor. He had to be some kind of bull hybrid, probably one of the main reasons he had joined Red Bull.
“Thank you, sir. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
And that was true. Parrot hadn’t expected to find a high-ranking employee there, especially one from Red Bull. Narrowing his eyes, Parrot gave his wings a small flutter, ruffling his feathers to make himself look slightly larger.
“I assume our representatives have already contacted you?”
“Yes.”
Red Bull had sent him an email about three days ago, making their interest in Parrot clear, both in a potential future contract and in having him join the Red Bull Academy. Practically speaking, the fastest way into Formula One would probably be through Red Bull, considering their insatiable hunger for young athletes and prodigies who could be turned into stars, just like that demon they had sponsored not too long ago. However, Parrot knew perfectly well what the risks of joining Red Bull were, and how quickly he could end up out on the street if he wasn’t perfect at everything he did, without even getting a second chance.
On top of all that, ever since he had entered Formula Three, his representative had made it clear that Mercedes was interested in sponsoring him, as well as eventually bringing Parrot into their Formula One program or one of the teams they supplied engines to, provided he could win the championship by at least twenty points. This was his third win in a row, and he was already leading the championship by fifteen points, so he was feeling pretty hopeful. He even already had a contract in the works with Invicta for Formula Two next year.
Last year’s champion might have been Wemmbu, but Parrot was almost absolutely certain he would beat the Prema driver this season, considering the other boy was much more focused on developing his skills for Formula Two and, eventually, Formula One. He was so young, and everyone was already convinced he would be in Formula One very soon.
Honestly, Parrot didn’t want anything to do with Red Bull. Not that he had anything against Wemmbu. They had barely even spoken, after all.
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline your offer, but I appreciate you considering me.”
“Ah, that’s really unfortunate. May I ask why? We can reconsider the offer if necessary.”
The man smiled, trying to win Parrot over with fake kindness. If he genuinely thought Parrot would fall for that, he had to be an idiot.
“No. My issue is with Red Bull itself. I don’t want to be part of a company that throws drivers away like they’re pieces of chewing gum.”
The man’s face twisted with anger as he stepped toward Parrot, looming over him. Parrot merely spread his wings, trying to intimidate him and create some space between them.
The hand that struck him burned against his cheek like lava, and Parrot’s eyes immediately widened, his mind going completely blank. He had gotten into fights before. He and Spoke had even thrown hands back in their karting days, but he had never been hit so directly, much less by an adult he barely knew. Oh, now the smell of beer makes sense.
“Steer? What the hell are you doing?”
A cold voice filled his ears, and Parrot immediately turned around.
It was Wemmbu, still wearing his race suit, his long purple hair tied back in a damp ponytail, strands sticking to his forehead. His tail lashed angrily as he approached in quick strides. His pale skin glowed under the sunlight, and his neon-green eyes narrowed.
“What the hell? I asked you to come meet me, and you’re here intimidating other drivers?”
The demon spread one wing in front of Parrot, shielding him from the man.
Parrot wasn’t getting involved in this. He gave Wemmbu the softest smile he could manage. Wemmbu answered with a relaxed, indifferent blink, his pupil narrowing, before turning back toward the representative. Parrot walked toward the exit as quickly as he could without looking suspicious.
Hopefully, Wemmbu could handle the man.
He opened the door as quickly as he could, glanced both ways twice, and stepped into Wifies’ house. The place was clean and perfectly organized, like everything else involving his teammate. The floral scent of the mirrored plants (Void only knew how Wifies managed to keep them alive) followed him as he collapsed onto the couch. His wings gently opened around him like a blanket, their colorful feathers framing him softly as he curled up against the cushions with a quiet sigh.
“You got back early today?”
Wifies’ voice was calm and relaxed, the tension from the race mostly gone after being home for a while. He sat down beside Parrot and gently ran a hand along his wings, threading his fingers through the vibrant green feathers near their base and brushing away the thin layer of dust left over from the race. Parrot answered with a soft hum.
Wifies’ tail wagged a little before he pulled his hand away and curled up on the couch, his knees drawn against his chest. The avian hybrid followed him, sitting down as well while humming some Laufey melody under his breath.
“I had a problem with a Red Bull representative and ended up coming back without doing the extra simulator session.”
“They’re still pushing you? Persistent bastards.”
“Exactly! His name was Steer, and he was way more invasive than all the others. He made sure to let me know just how unhappy he was with my decision.”
“They’re idiots.”
Wifies suddenly jumped to his feet, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a mug from the shelf.
“You’re smart for choosing Mercedes. Your future there is more secure and stable, unlike Red Bull.”
“With the amount of interest Mercedes has shown in me, I don’t see any reason to reconsider their support, especially now that I have a real shot at winning the drivers’ championship.”
“And you will. Your results have been getting more and more consistent over the last few races, and the team’s strategy has been great.”
Parrot felt his chest warm slightly, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Wifies had always been good with compliments, and even though he didn’t give them very often and preferred other ways of showing someone they were doing a good job, Parrot always appreciated them when they came.
Rolling his eyes, the parrot hybrid got up and followed Wifies into the kitchen, where he was drinking cold coffee from that same old cracked mug he always used.
“Don’t act like your results are anything less than impressive. You’re way too humble.”
“My results might be good, but they’re nowhere near yours, birdie.”
He said that because that was simply how Wifies was. Kind and, above all, humble. He could rarely see his own achievements the way he saw those of other drivers, always downplaying himself.
“If that were true, McLaren wouldn’t be backing you and breathing down your neck all the time.”
“Are you sure about that?”
The dog hybrid let out a little laugh and leaned closer, gently rubbing his snout against the other’s neck. Parrot let out a nasal huff and pushed him away with little effort, chirping softly.
“You’re such an idiot, bro.”
“Maybe.”
Then Wifies pulled away, lazily wagging his tail before flopping back onto the couch and burying his face into the cushions. His semi-erect ears shifted slightly backward so he could still hear Parrot.
Following Wifies, Parrot sat down beside him and draped his legs over Wifies’ back.
“What do you want to eat today? We can order something. Our nutritionists probably won’t mind.”
Yeah, they absolutely would, but Parrot preferred to ignore that and let himself be happy for one day.
Wifies mumbled something about Parrot being able to choose whatever he wanted and that he’d be fine with it, so Parrot took his advice and ordered a burger-and-fries combo for each of them, along with a two-liter bottle of Pepsi. Wifies wouldn’t hesitate to tell him if he ended up not liking it, so Parrot wasn’t too worried about the choice.
As soon as the order was confirmed, Parrot got up with a yawn and gently scratched behind Wifies’ ear, amused by the way the other leaned into the touch.
Wifies was really adorable.
After letting himself enjoy the sight for a few more seconds, Parrot headed toward the bedroom. He grabbed an off-white pajama set with pastel-green details, some underwear, and a towel, removed all his accessories, and headed for the bathroom. Wifies tilted his head to look at him, resting his cheek against the couch.
“You gonna shower?”
“Mhm. The food might get here before I’m out, but it’s already paid for, so you just have to grab it.”
“Sure, leave it to me.”
With that, Parrot stepped into the bathroom and quickly stripped off his clothes before getting into the shower and adjusting the water until it reached a comfortable temperature.
His muscles were a little sore from spending so much time in the car. Maybe he should get a massage soon and let his muscles relax, especially his back, which ached from keeping his wings folded for so long. Obviously, he wasn’t complaining.
Parrot was lucky. Very lucky. He had made it this far in motorsport, especially considering how difficult it was to move up the ladder and how exclusive the sport was. He didn’t come from an especially wealthy family, nor did he have a legacy of racing drivers behind him. Most of his progress in the sport was entirely thanks to Branzy, his former agent and the husband of the legendary driver ClownPierce. Ever since finding Parrot in karting, Branzy had practically adopted him and had always treated him with kindness.
After his mother died and his father was psychologically unable to retain custody of him, Branzy went to court and easily gained custody of Parrot. That was how he ended up becoming the adopted son of one of the biggest drivers in the sport.
Parrot would never give up on Branzy. He wasn’t just his agent or his father. He was the main reason Parrot had made it this far in Formula Three, the person he owed everything he had and everything he would ever have to. Because of that, it had always been in the hybrid’s best interest to keep Branzy as his agent for as long as possible, and he would do anything for it. He would turn down million-dollar offers if that was what it took.
Besides, Branzy had also been one of the reasons he met Spoke back in karting and Formula Four. He was the one who introduced them, and because of that, Parrot started spending time with the person who would remain his best friend for a very long time.
Parrot stepped out of the shower and got dressed, rubbing the towel through his hair to soak up the excess water. He fixed himself up as much as necessary before heading back to the living room, where Wifies was already arranging the food on the coffee table. Wifies’ ears perked up at the sound of Parrot’s footsteps, and his tail started wagging lazily a few times before settling back onto the floor.
“That was way quicker this time.”
Parrot’s wings ruffled slightly at the sound of the other’s voice.
“Mhm. They’ve gotten a lot faster at that fast-food place. Maybe they finally started listening to all the reviews people leave on the app.”
“Probably.”
Wifies chuckled and handed Parrot one of the plates with the burger and fries, along with a cup of soda. Parrot thanked him and sat down on the couch, taking a bite of the bun.
The taste was divine. The bun was soft, and the meat was hot and perfectly cooked. With a satisfied hum, Parrot grabbed the TV remote and opened the movie app, scrolling through the genres. There wasn’t much new besides one or two pirated movies with gambling ads popping up in the middle, and he and Wifies had already watched almost every suspense and mystery movie available on the site.
The hybrid even considered putting on a horror movie, but Wifies usually preferred psychological horror over slashers that relied on deaths and jump scares to carry the whole thing.
Besides, whenever they watched horror movies, he and Wifies always ended up arguing about how stupid the characters were and rarely paid any actual attention to the movie.
“Do you wanna watch anything specific?”
“What about that new movie, The Odyssey?”
Parrot handed the remote over to Wifies.
“It’s all yours. The movie looks great.”
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The world had turned so fast that Parrot’s brain felt like a damn amoeba. He could barely process what was happening. One second, Parrot had been in his car, driving normally and accelerating toward yet another straight on lap 29 of the Austrian GP. The next, his car was flying through the air, and Parrot could only instinctively tense the wings strapped against his back before squeezing his eyes shut.
As soon as the car came to a stop, its nose planted firmly into the tire barrier, Parrot’s head started throbbing and screaming with noises that existed only inside his own brain. A few pieces of debris that had slipped past the Halo were scattered across his skin and clothes. Parrot blinked repeatedly, trying to regain some semblance of consciousness, when the strong smell of gasoline hit him. Dark smoke was rising from the car and staining the ground around it, and Parrot knew he had to get out immediately.
Several voices shouted through his radio, probably telling him to stay calm and giving him instructions, while another car stopped nearby. A giant red flag had appeared ahead of him, but Parrot was far too focused on desperately twisting around in a failed attempt to free himself from the cockpit. He knew he was doing it wrong, but his situation was deteriorating way too fast, and he couldn’t think clearly enough to remember to shut the car down or follow the emergency procedure.
Just as panic turned Parrot’s brain into a tangled mess of information, two hands reached into his cockpit and switched the car off. They immediately moved to undo his belts and pull him out of the wreckage.
Parrot chirped in shock, staring blankly at whoever had helped him. His breathing was ragged, his legs shaking like jelly. Standing in front of him and supporting some of his weight was FlameFrags, his teammate ever since he joined Invicta.
Flame’s golden eyes shone with concern, his eyebrows raised slightly even beneath his helmet. His dark skin glowed under the sunlight, and Parrot allowed himself a few seconds to simply stare at the sight before letting his entire weight fall against Flame, burying his face in his neck and breathing in a scent of flames and dust.
Flame’s tiger ears flattened against his black dreads and curved horns, his tail lashing behind him. The nervousness he usually hid so easily behind his expression was as obvious to Parrot as the sunlight.
“You okay?”
His voice was muffled beneath the balaclava, calm and slightly hoarse in a way that only made Parrot’s growing dizziness and relaxation worse. It was probably just the smoke from the car taking effect, making the symptoms of his intoxication more obvious. And considering Parrot had no idea how long he had been trapped inside the car after the crash, that was entirely possible.
“Parrot, can you stand? We need to get you to the medical center. The race is under a red flag, and it should stay that way for about twenty minutes while they clear the debris.”
Parrot forced himself to do as Flame asked, putting all his strength into his legs and fluttering his wings to keep his balance as he followed him.
“I’m sorry for leaving you to race alone from here.”
They needed the points to maintain their lead in the drivers’ championship, and having only one car in the GP would make everything harder. Besides, this was their home race, and Parrot had finally managed to build a decent gap to the driver in third.
Flame snorted, letting out a cocky laugh as his tail swayed lazily from side to side. He waved a hand dismissively, completely unfazed.
“Hah, that won’t even be a problem. I’ll leave the rest of them in the dust and score enough points for both of us.”
Parrot felt his mood lift a little, biting his lips to hold back the little laughs escaping beneath his balaclava.
Okay, maybe he didn’t have that much to worry about. Flame definitely deserved his title of The Immortal Demon. He would obviously get the job done, and he’d probably do it a hell of a lot better than Parrot would, especially considering his driving style was more aggressive than average and he had a habit of refusing to stop until he had passed every single car on the grid.
Flame had an insatiable hunger to win.
With a long exhale, Parrot sat down on the medical cot, relaxing his wings until their tips rested against the floor. He resigned himself to waiting in boredom until the doctors arrived and started examining him, which shouldn’t take more than five minutes. That was all the time they needed to grab the first-aid kit and whatever other medical equipment they required.
Flame paced around the room a few times before wrapping his arms around Parrot from behind, loosely winding them around his neck and resting his chin, now free of his helmet and balaclava, against Parrot’s moss-green hair.
Flame’s body was warm, and the soft purring coming from his throat lulled Parrot into a state of relaxation that was difficult to reach after such a serious crash. So he let himself sink into the tiger-Blaze hybrid’s warmth and closed his eyes.
Flame should have been planning the rest of the race with the engineers and checking the data. He shouldn’t have been here cuddling up to Parrot as if there wasn’t a care in the world.
Sure, Invicta’s strategy had been incredibly good that season, and their results had been impressive. Parrot had 147 points and Flame had 167. But the engineers could still get annoyed at Flame for wasting time chatting instead of preparing for the restart, and Parrot really didn’t want to get involved in that.
“I can practically hear you thinking.”
Parrot hummed Too Little, Too Late by Laufey, distracting himself from the pounding in his head while trying to return the same sense of calm Flame had given him.
“Don’t worry so much, birdie. I’m gonna win this race even with all the time I lost here. Besides, I am gonna talk to the engineers. Can’t I spend a few minutes with my teammate?”
He gently rubbed his cheek against Parrot’s hair, earning a soft, melodic trill from the other hybrid, who didn’t even try to pull away.
At that moment, the doctors knocked once before entering the room, the pair of them carrying the necessary equipment.
“Alright, you’re in good hands now. See you on the podium?”
“See you on the podium, Flam.”
Flame gave Parrot one last quick kiss on the forehead, purring louder to reassure him. He kept his lips there for a few extra seconds before pulling away, staring at one of the doctors with as much pure indifference and superiority as he could muster.
“You better take good care of him.”
Then, with a snort, he walked out the door, bumping into the same doctor on his way out and leaving Parrot alone with the doctors, who immediately started whispering among themselves.
“He’s got quite the personality.”
“Acts like he’s some kind of god or king.”
“If he keeps this up, no Formula One team is ever going to hire him.”
Parrot cleared his throat, drawing the doctors’ attention back to him as he glared at them with as much anger as he could muster. And Parrot was a patient person, too. But how the hell did they dare talk about his teammate like that right in front of him?
His world had always been black and white.
He understood perfectly well why people might see Flame as rude and selfish. He had thought the same thing at first, when he started working with him and all he knew about Flame was the way he acted like some kind of king demanding to be worshipped.
But he realized now how wrong he had been.
His world had been black and white until he met FlameFrags.
Wifies, his former teammate, was a complete angel. White radiated from his very being and drew Parrot toward him like a moth chasing a light, leaving everything around him looking dull by comparison.
But Flame was different.
When Parrot first saw Flame, he was an endless expanse of black, with only a few patches of white scattered across his body.
Parrot didn’t know when Flame had transformed into a beautiful mosaic of gray and red, an incomparable beauty that drew every eye toward him, something Parrot wanted to consume like a drug.
After Parrot met Flame, his world filled with the most breathtaking shades imaginable.
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Parrot was having a pretty damn good day.
He had just moved into his new place, so, taking advantage of his new salary as a Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team driver and the stability it would give him, Parrot decided to go to the mall and a few other local shops to buy all the little odds and ends he either didn’t have or had somehow lost during the move.
Consequently, Parrot woke up early, had a healthy homemade breakfast (read: a banana waffle he made in three minutes and a glass of water), and got dressed so he could get out as quickly as possible.
For the top, he put on a loose black long-sleeved shirt. The fabric was light and flexible, and the sleeves billowed around his arms, forming soft folds. The shirt had a relatively wide classic collar, partially open around the neck. Over it, he wore a light-gray tailored vest, fitted around the torso without looking tight. The front was divided by a row of small dark buttons, while the bottom had an asymmetrical design, the two ends descending at an angle and forming an elongated V over the black shirt. The vest also had small front pockets and visible stitching details.
To finish it off, he wore a gray tie, darker than the vest. It was relatively wide and long, falling down to around his waist or hips. He had left the knot slightly loose, giving the tie a more casual, careless look instead of anything too formal.
On the bottom, he wore extremely baggy charcoal-gray cargo pants. They were oversized from the thighs all the way down to the ankles, creating plenty of fabric and several folds. Large cargo pockets covered the sides, along with straps and strips of fabric hanging down his legs. Some of them were particularly long, following the movement of the pants and adding to the utilitarian aesthetic. The hems were wide and fell over his footwear, making his silhouette look even heavier and more deconstructed.
The fabric seemed relatively light, so the pants weren’t completely stiff, forming natural folds as he walked. On his feet were sturdy black boots with thick soles and a heavy appearance. Their rounded, bulky shape created an interesting contrast with the more fluid fabric of the pants.
Quite pleased with the result, Parrot ran his fingers through his hair, working a little oil through the strands, then put some concealer over his dark circles. He brushed his teeth while closing the windows and grabbing his keys.
Outside, the weather was perfect. The sky was painted in shades of light blue, reflecting sunlight off the buildings and back into itself as he walked. The warmth of the sun seeped through his colorful feathers, and Parrot gently fluttered his wings to cool himself down, sighing as the soft breeze brushed against his face.
He took the same route he always did, preferring familiarity over novelty, especially because the streets on that side were much quieter. That meant he would only have to sign the occasional autograph instead of constantly stopping to talk to young adults who apparently had nothing better to do with their lives than bother him.
Not that he minded the attention that much.
There were also far fewer cars on that street, meaning Parrot could cross without worrying too much or ending up with his wings smelling like exhaust fumes.
Parrot approached a small street lined with cute cafés and tiny neighborhood shops, exactly where he needed to go if he wanted cheap little knick-knacks and some silly sweets.
Unfortunately, he spotted several workers breaking up the pavement to repair the street’s pipes, and the entire road had been closed as a result. It was probably a project to replace the old 80-centimeter pipes with larger, wider, more modern ones, ready to supply several shops and houses at once without bursting or losing pressure.
It would probably be good for the neighborhood.
With a sigh, Parrot changed course toward a side street just as forgotten as his usual route, although it lacked all the cozy little shops. He had used it several times before, even if he didn’t particularly like it, always taking another route whenever possible.
The walls along the street were neglected, though not exactly destroyed, with plants and moss growing along the ground and climbing the walls. Very few people lived there, and most of those who did were old enough that they couldn’t do much heavy maintenance without risking injury.
As Parrot walked down the empty street, he heard the faint echo of footsteps behind him.
He immediately stopped and spun around.
There was nothing there except sunlight and insects buzzing around and crawling up the walls.
Someone was definitely following him.
Maybe someone else would have fallen for that trick, but Parrot was an avian. His hearing and sense of smell were incredibly sensitive, tuned to pick up even the slightest difference from what he was accustomed to.
He could hear the faintly heavy breathing behind the large generator.
He could hear the footsteps continuing for two seconds after he had stopped.
And, most importantly, he could smell the stale reek of cigarette smoke.
His slit pupils narrowed and focused on the exact spot.
If whoever this person was had bad intentions, Parrot needed to get out of there immediately, especially since he had nothing he could actually use to defend himself.
So he ruffled and spread his wings, making himself look larger, and started walking faster, lengthening his strides.
The moment he turned away, the footsteps behind him resumed as well. They stayed at just the right distance to be almost imperceptible, moving in perfect enough sync that they could have been mistaken for his own footsteps.
Parrot had to give the stalker some credit. They knew exactly how to blend into the background for ordinary people.
After a few more steps, the person behind him started walking faster, closing the distance dangerously quickly. The little ears on Parrot’s head trembled.
Then a sharp blade was pressed against his throat. Parrot let out a startled gasp before freezing completely. The knife was dirty, with a little rust along the edges, and smelled strongly of iron.
“What’s a fragile little bird doing out here all by himself?”
The voice was rough and burnt-out, like the person had been smoking for years. Parrot tensed.
He was not fragile. Not even close.
He might have had a slightly more delicate build than many of the other F1 drivers, but he could still withstand enough G-force to leave this man’s neck sore for days. Strategically speaking, though, it was better to let the thief think he was weak. Maybe then the guy would leave him alone after taking his stuff.
“I think you already know what I want, don’t you? Hand over everything.”
Parrot narrowed his eyes.
He should hand everything over and simply move on with his life. But the thought of having all his belongings stolen right after being signed by Mercedes irritated him to no end.
“What’s going on here?”
A loud, relaxed voice rang out from farther down the street, and Parrot’s wings opened slightly in response. The thief snorted and turned his head toward the newcomer without removing the knife from Parrot’s throat.
“Well, look at that. Another bird.”
“Bro, I’m not just ‘another bird.’ I’m the biggest bird here, man.”
The voice laughed as its owner approached, flapping his wings. His scent was soft and clean, slightly sweet, reminding Parrot of hay or freshly cut grass. If Parrot had to guess, he was a cockatiel hybrid.
“Don’t come any closer!” the man stammered. “Or... or I’ll kill this guy!”
Parrot blinked slowly. He took advantage of the man’s distraction, hooking a hand around his wrist and pulling it forward as he twisted himself out of reach.
The moment the knife was no longer a problem, the other hybrid, whom Parrot now realized was much closer than he had thought, kicked the thief directly in the head.
The man dropped unconscious onto the ground.
The cockatiel kicked him a few more times in the stomach.
Parrot breathed heavily, his wings sagging against the rough ground as he stared at the other hybrid.
He was young, no older than twenty-one, with tanned skin and reddish patches across his cheeks. His blond hair was cut short in a messy style, though several longer strands fell over the front of his face. Sunglasses covered his eyes, so Parrot had no idea what color they were.
The wings on his head were completely gray, while the wings on his back were thinner than Parrot’s, yellow with a few gray patches and clearly very well cared for. He wore a fitted high-neck tank top beneath an oversized jacket, with two yellow stripes decorating both the pants and the jacket. Aside from those two flashes of color, everything else was black.
Parrot’s eyes widened. He should have recognized him by his voice.
It was so obvious now that he could see the stranger’s face.
“Theobald-?”
“Hm?”
The cockatiel lifted his eyes from the unconscious thief and looked at Parrot, raising his eyebrows curiously.
“Yep, that’s me. Want an autograph?”
“Uh, no, thanks.”
“Whattt? But I’m literally the biggest bird, bro. Like, look at me. You’ve never heard of me?”
“Actually, yeah. I know you pretty well. You didn’t recognize me?”
Parrot pointed at himself.
“No, dude. Have we met before?”
“My name is Parrot. I’m going to be your teammate at Mercedes this season.”
Theo’s mouth fell open. He blinked several times before bursting into laughter.
“Pffftttt. Yeah, yeah, sure.”
“Dude, I’m serious.”
“Obviously you are, bro.”
“Literally, look me up if you don’t believe me!”
Parrot huffed and rolled his eyes.
Theo pulled out his phone and pointed it at Parrot’s face, probably searching by image. A few seconds later, Theo froze. He looked from Parrot to his phone, then back to Parrot.
“Oh.”
“Oh.”
“I’m fucking terrible with faces. My bad.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Anyway, lemme introduce myself properly, then.”
Theo stepped closer, kicked the unconscious thief one last time, and held out his hand to Parrot.
“Theobald. But you can call me Theo. I’ll be your senior this season.”
Parrot stared at the cockatiel’s hand for a few seconds, his wings ruffling as his cheeks flushed slightly. Then he gave a small smile and accepted it, shaking Theo’s hand.
“Parrot. Nice to meet you.”
“Parrot? Like, parrot?”
“Yeah, dude. Parrot.”
Theo released his hand and brought both hands up in front of his mouth to hold back his laughter.
“Pfttt-”
“Hah, go ahead and laugh. I don’t care.”
Parrot sighed, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his stomach.
Theo took him up on that, laughing at Parrot for a good few seconds before Parrot joined in, lifting one of his head-wings to hide his face.
After a while, Theo finally stopped laughing and took a few deep breaths to catch his breath.
“Alright, dude, my bad. Your name is fucking terrible. That’s why I’m the biggest bird.”
“What? Absolutely not. I’m the biggest bird.”
“No, obviously I am. I’m bigger than you.”
“Being the biggest bird isn’t about size. It’s about mindset, bro.”
“Yeah, bro. We just say shit.”
Parrot laughed, following along as the little butterflies began fluttering in his stomach.
He was going to enjoy his time at Mercedes.
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“Great, Wemmbu, can you move a little farther to the right? It’ll frame you better. And close your wings a little more, please.”
Parrot obeyed, pulling his feathered wings tightly against his back until his muscles started aching. Even so, he understood that his wings could draw too much attention away from the clothes, which would be pretty bad for the brand, so he would simply resign himself to asking Theo for a back massage later.
Not that he would complain about getting one. His teammate was amazing at massages, and Parrot always felt like he was floating afterward.
Wemmbu, on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, didn’t seem to share the same opinion. The only thing he did was spread his own wings even wider, letting the black membrane shine like leather in metallic shades of purple beneath the studio lights.
The demon wore an entirely black outfit with a much more alternative, industrial aesthetic. A fitted black tank top, long sleeves, baggy cargo pants with several pockets, a belt with a silver buckle, and chains hanging around his waist. The small crossbody bag and silver necklaces were, honestly, Parrot’s favorite part. On his feet were sturdy black platform boots.
The little wings on Parrot’s head trembled slightly, his hearing sharpening as he picked up a few employees talking in the background.
“God, he’s so full of himself.”
“He’s such a rude asshole. I don’t even know how he’s so popular.”
Parrot turned his head toward them, making it obvious that he had heard them, and ruffled his wings.
He might not have been Wemmbu’s biggest fan, but he hated people who talked about others behind their backs. Especially because the last time he had done that to Flame, he had ended up eating his own words, and the tiger hybrid had proven time and time again that he was far more than Parrot had ever expected.
Theo was amazing, but Parrot could still miss Flame a little, right?
Parrot hadn’t had much contact with Wemmbu since the latter joined Formula One. Obviously, they had crossed paths on a few podiums, but there was always another driver around in those situations, usually someone Parrot and Wemmbu were more familiar with and preferred talking to.
Even so, Parrot knew he wasn’t a bad person. Self-centered, narcissistic, and an idiot who seemed determined to cause more and more chaos and destruction everywhere he went? Yes, but he wasn’t a bad person, especially with Eggchan around.
With a sigh and a sideways glance at Wemmbu, Parrot simply tucked his wings in a little more and let the photographers continue.
Whatever Wemmbu did or didn’t do wasn’t his problem. If the demon was going to be an asshole and deliberately disobey, making life harder for people who were just trying to do their jobs for a ridiculous paycheck, Parrot wasn’t going to get involved. He wasn’t one of those followers who worshipped Wemmbu and copied everything he did.
The photographers had dressed the bird in light shades of blue and white, with a casual, collegiate aesthetic. He wore a light-blue long-sleeved shirt over a white top, paired with a blue-and-white plaid tie. Over that was a white vest or utility-style bag with pockets.
On the bottom, he wore loose white pants, with a blue-and-white plaid shirt tied around his waist, creating a relaxed layered effect. The look was completed with chunky white sneakers and white headphones hanging around his neck.
They continued taking pictures for a while longer before finally being released, but Parrot was already exhausted by the third round. He had never been particularly extroverted. He was reasonably social and loved making new friends, but, at his core, he much preferred other kinds of promotional work that didn’t involve standing around posing and looking pretty for hours.
Wemmbu, however, didn’t seem to be having the same problem as his fellow promotional model. The demon carried himself with an almost regal, luxurious air, completely at ease with his body and hair.
Is this guy the ace of current F1?
Parrot hummed to himself and, now free, walked over to the snack table and grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds, stretching his wings.
The crew had been kind enough to provide food Parrot could actually eat, especially considering it wasn’t even included in the contract and was therefore nothing more than a courtesy on their part. Maybe Parrot should even let them take some more spontaneous and suggestive photos as a reward?
He absolutely was not going to do that.
Wemmbu followed him, his tail swaying lazily in relaxation as he positioned himself beside Parrot and picked up a piece of toast topped with Beluga caviar, taking a small bite.
The Red Bull driver wasn’t saying anything, but Parrot felt strangely comfortable and anxious at the same time.
Wemmbu had this superior aura about him, the kind that made him seem like the sort of person who could crush you without a second thought. The number 77 on his buttons gleamed even from a distance, reminding Parrot of every time he had seen it in his rearview mirror.
With a sigh, and Parrot definitely wasn’t going to have any breathing problems in the future, he fluttered his wings one last time before folding them against his back again.
“So... congratulations on your season so far. You’ve been doing really well!”
Wemmbu turned his gaze toward Parrot, tilting his head slightly. One of his ears twitched in response to Parrot’s voice.
“Yeah, man, I know. But thanks. You Mercedes guys have had a pretty damn good strategy lately too, unlike Ferrari.”
Parrot let out a little laugh.
“Yeah, Flame and Mane haven’t exactly been lucky.”
Wemmbu’s tail wagged as he grinned mockingly and laughed under his breath.
“They haven’t had any luck at all. Flame crashes in almost every race. I don’t even worry anymore when I see number 11 in my mirrors.”
That was a little cruel, even if it was, unfortunately, true. Even Theo had complained about how uncompetitive Ferrari had been that year, despite the fact that strategy wasn’t exactly his strong suit.
As soon as Parrot managed to get away, he immediately went to the bathroom and opened his chat with Theo.
BIGGESTBIRD → PAROT
Bro, Toto is driving me fucking insane PLEAAAASE come back 😭
Almost done I literally cannot talk to Wemmbu Like bro, not even if you paid me
????? Something happen? He’s not THAT bad, is he? Did Wemmbu say something to you??
No, dude It’s just so fucking weird We have literally nothing in common The vibe is so awkward…
You’re both drivers Prodigies
THAT DOESN’T COUNT What am I supposed to ask him “What’s your favorite tire strategy, Wemmbu?”
OBVIOUSLY Maybe you’ll learn something kabskajsjakak Wemmbu doesn’t seem like the smart type
The idiot here is you bald
Fckkkkk you I’m smarter than you That’s why I’m the biggest bird
Dude, I’m obviously the biggest bird
Yeah yeah Whatever helps you sleep at night, Parot
Parrot*
PAROT OFFLINE
Par???? Bro, you didn’t even say bye 😭😭😭 You hate me 🖕🖕🖕
Talking to Theo hadn’t helped him at all, and Parrot didn’t even know why he had considered it a good idea in the first place. That idiot had the brain of a bird and obviously wasn’t going to take Parrot’s social skills into consideration.
Parrot plucked at a few feathers, feeling the soft little prickles at the base of his wings calm him down somewhat, and then returned to the main studio.
The room was a complete mess. Tables and chairs had been shoved around to form two makeshift barriers on opposite sides, food was scattered everywhere, and Wemmbu, along with several photographers, were hiding and running around the room, attacking each other.
The demon’s purple hair was covered in frosting. He was grinning and laughing as though this were the greatest moment of his life. He glanced at Parrot from the corner of his eye, going serious for a few seconds before breaking into a wide smile and saying something to him.
Parrot couldn’t make out the words clearly. He simply laughed back and ran toward Wemmbu, using his wings to cover them both once he reached him.
Parrot felt his stomach warm, his feathers ruffling slightly. Wemmbu looked at him, his neon-green eyes glowing as he held out a piece of cake to Parrot.
He was magnificent.
-.-- --- ..- / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / .- .-.. .-- .- -.-- ... / -... . / -- -.-- / ..-. .. .-. ... - / --- -. .
Spoke bounced along a little ahead of Parrot, his shoulders pulled back as his wings fluttered with barely contained excitement.
He wore a slightly loose-fitting black T-shirt with a small white print over the chest, layered beneath a long-sleeved shirt striped in several vibrant colors, the same rainbow as always. On the bottom, Spoke wore high-waisted black shorts with a loose, slightly baggy fit, dark finishes, and small metallic details. A black belt covered in eyelets and chains complemented the shorts, with a long chain hanging loosely from one side. His legs were covered by opaque black tights, and on his feet were sturdy mid-calf black boots with laces and thick soles.
The voidling had arrived shortly before Parrot, so he had already bought the tickets by the time Parrot got there and was now practically bursting at the seams because, according to him, he had been waiting an eternity for his friend to show up. Normally, Parrot would simply follow him around and accept whatever ride Spoke wanted to go on without protesting, but this time he insisted that the other make absolutely sure which rides he wanted to go on first. That way, they could have dinner without having to get on a roller coaster right afterward and risk getting sick, so for now, they were just wandering around the park.
After about thirty minutes of walking in circles around the park and playing at a few smaller game stalls (he won a keychain for himself and one for the McLaren driver), they eventually ended up at a ride that looked like a giant disk. Its name was “Samba,” and honestly, Parrot had never seen anything like it in his entire life. It vaguely resembled a frying pan, with several seats running along the entire edge except for the two entrances, and two metal bars surrounding the entire perimeter, positioned right behind their heads. Judging by what the other visitors were doing, they were there for you to hold onto however you preferred.
It looked dangerous, to a certain extent, but the bright colors had enchanted Spoke like a children’s cartoon with a cut every seven seconds, and now he had decided that he would have a heart attack if he didn’t go on this specific ride at this specific moment. So Parrot accepted his cruel fate and cursed every God he could remember and, especially, the Void, for making him endure this.
At the main booth, Parrot grabbed a binder for his wings and strapped it firmly around his chest. He still hadn’t gotten used to this kind of mechanism, even though he knew it was for his safety, mostly because his cars were adapted to accommodate his wings and he never had to keep them pinned against himself. Spoke put one on too, but he seemed much less bothered by it than Parrot, probably because his wings were smaller.
They both sat as far away from either door as possible, a small guarantee that they wouldn’t fall through them that Parrot insisted on securing, and grabbed the bars. Parrot slipped his arms through the first opening and gripped the bar farthest from the seat as tightly as he could, trying to keep himself as steady as possible.
Spoke barely held onto his at all.
People slowly began getting onto the ride, sitting with plenty of space between one another thanks to the Samba’s lack of demand.
The perks of going to an amusement park on a Tuesday.
“Dude, I’ve never seen one of these outside Brazil.”
Spoke’s wings contracted inside the binder, the membrane stretching slightly before relaxing again as he leaned toward Parrot.
“Me neither, but it doesn’t seem to be anything new around here. There’s barely anyone.”
“Yeah! I noticed that too. Better for us, though.”
The disk gave a small jolt to the left before starting to spin to the right, gradually picking up speed until it began moving up and down like a spinning top. Parrot immediately tightened his grip on the bars, his knuckles turning white as his stomach lurched with every movement of the ride.
Once they reached a steady speed, one of the park workers, who had gotten onto the ride to make sure nobody tried to jump off the disk, stood up and started walking around and doing tricks, almost tripping once before completely regaining his balance.
Spoke burst out laughing beside him, a hint of mockery dripping through the symphony of sounds as he let the adrenaline take over and completely let go of the bars, getting thrown from side to side until he ended up almost entirely on top of Parrot.
The bird hybrid felt the excitement take over him too and laughed, weakly pushing the voidling away.
It was his first time spending Summer Break in Brazil, away from his family, and he had only done it because Spoke had specifically invited him under the excuse of celebrating Parrot joining F1, both of their contract renewals, and Spoke’s second place in the championship.
Since when was that something worth celebrating?
But since he was already there, Parrot had promised himself that he would make the most of that week before having to return to Italy and simulator training.
“By the Void, if that guy can do it, I can too.”
Spoke straightened up, and Parrot rolled his eyes, loosely grabbing him by the sleeve.
“You know this isn’t a good idea, Spoks.”
“Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. Nobody cares, birdie.”
The voidling jumped to his feet and headed toward the middle, running circles around the already-standing man who was desperately trying to convince him to sit back down. He had very little balance, but an ego large enough to keep him upright.
After a few minutes, Spoke made his way back toward Parrot, ready to sit down, and right at that moment, the ride gave another jolt. He planted his hands on the other’s knee to keep his balance.
“Pfttttttt—”
Parrot covered his mouth, trying to hold himself together, and reached out with his free hand to help Spoke sit back down amid his laughter.
“Dude, you’re ridiculous. Seriously.”
“You’re just boooooring.”
Parrot slowly closed his eyes, the warmth of the overcrowded bus lulling him toward sleep. He ran a hand through Spoke’s hair, feeling the softness of the strands beneath his fingers. The voidling murmured, nestling closer against Parrot.
It had been a long time since he had spent time with Spoke. They had drifted apart considerably after entering Formula 3, since the other was already in Formula 2 during that period, but he was incredibly happy that they could still have these little moments together, even more so because being around Spoke didn’t feel strange despite how much time had passed.
In the end, it didn’t matter how many people he met.
Spoke would always be his first best friend.
Parrot closed his eyes, letting the sensations cloud his thoughts and sleep take over.
.. / .-- .- -. - / -.-- --- ..- / - --- / -... . / -- .. -. . --..-- / .--
Parrot stretched, raising his arms high above his head to hear the satisfying pop of his joints. He had been feeling increasingly sore lately, and Theo had recommended this masseuse—who, according to him, was one of the best in the city.
The place was quite cozy—Parrot gave the lady points for that—but he had to agree to a couples' session since she had no openings left that week; the other client had agreed to it too, saying something about his own beauty. Parrot hadn't really paid much attention, to be honest.
He knocked twice before entering and sat on a beanbag chair in the corner of the room, right next to a counter featuring a Buddha-shaped fountain. His biological parents had owned a few of those before they died and everything was sold at auction; since Parrot had never followed a religion, he hadn't kept any of them. They held no value for him.
Shortly after he settled in, a short, silver-haired lady walked through the door with a gentle smile. She looked so sweet that Parrot couldn't help but smile back.
"Welcome, dear. Come, I'll show you to the massage room."
"Thank you very much. Is the other client already there?"
"Yes! We were waiting for you." "Oh, I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"Don't worry, he just got here."
She opened the door, revealing the person on the other side of the room—already wearing a robe.
You've got to be kidding me…
His purple hair was pulled back into a tight, messy bun, his pale skin gleaming under the harsh white light. His green eyes fixed on Parrot, a hint of mild irritation playing within their forest hues.
"Oh, so Cinderella decided to show up?"
"I'm sorry I'm late."
Parrot grabbed another robe and stripped off his clothes, flopping onto the treatment table and spreading his wings wide, letting them drape down to the sides like curtains. He felt so exhausted he could pass out right there; he hadn't slept properly in days, plagued by nightmares.
"Right, I'll go grab all the supplies. Would you like me to groom your wings for you?"
"That would be great."
The bird-hybrid’s eyes snapped open, and he glared at Wemmbu in indignation. She had obviously only asked out of politeness; no avian would ever choose to have their wings groomed by someone they barely knew!
"What is it?" "It’s not all that unusual for dragons; you birds are just so fussy~"
Wemmbu hummed, mockery sliding into his voice like honey. The demon wore that tone perfectly; his voice shifted as his eyes narrowed, amusement dancing within them.
The lady left the room, leaving Parrot and his adversary alone while she went on a long search—for who knows what massage supplies, or perhaps for her assistant. Or at least, Parrot hoped she had one; he didn't want to spend the entire session staring at Wemmbu without a distraction for the moments she wasn't there.
Then again, the demon was certainly worth the gaze—and definitely worthy of being a lead model for F1 and Red Bull. He didn't look particularly polished today—the faint scent of dust and dark circles barely concealed by concealer made that clear—but he was stunning. His purple hair was straight yet held soft waves, accentuated by the layered cut, and looked incredibly soft to the touch. Parrot wondered if he’d ever get to touch it.
Wemmbu’s body, now covered only by a thin robe, was fair-skinned with a slight pinkish hue at the joints; his muscles stood out beneath the fabric.
Wrapping his hands around him, the heat seeping between their bodies.
His almond-shaped eyes—vibrant green, like a tree in full spring—peered out from beneath long lashes, regarding Parrot as if he were a mere worm providing amusement through his sheer patheticness. His pointed ears—a unique demon trait—drooped slightly in relaxation but twitched at every one of Parrot’s responses, even though he wouldn't admit he was paying attention. His pink lips were parted in a half-smile, fangs peeking out softly.
Feeling those lips against his own, bite marks all over his body, the blood... ...dripping down and staining him forever. That fucking forked tongue claiming him, making Parrot forget everything but his own name.
Wemmbu leaned in slightly, his legs stretching as he rose onto his tiptoes to tower over Parrot.
Hovering over him, running a hand gently across his belly and navel down to the waistband of his pants—just to undo the button and slowly pull them down—their scents mingling in the warm room, breathing quickening, lips slightly smeared with the viscous fluid…
PAY ATTENTION! WHAT THE FUCK, PARROT? NO—bad bird!
Parrot shook his head, refocusing on the other man, who was snapping his fingers right in front of his face.
"Heeey, Earth to Parrot, Earth to Parrot. You’re totally spaced out, man."
Parrot blinked.
He nodded and gave a small thumbs-up to show he’d heard what the other had said, his cheeks burning like fire. He’d rather take a slap in the face than let himself get carried away by those thoughts again.
The little old lady knocked on the door and entered with a small basket of creams and oils. She was smiling and seemed oblivious to Parrot’s situation—just like Wemmbu.
"Right, boys, let’s start with you, Parrot. You can take off your robe and pull the blanket over yourself."
She left a small throw blanket on the massage table.
"As for you, Wemm, stay just as you are."
Then the lady approached Parrot and uncovered his leg, applying some cream along its length.
"Don't mind me; feel free to keep chatting like before."
Parrot sighed as the massage began, feeling the tension ease almost immediately. Theo was very good, but it didn't compare to having a professional do it.
Wemmbu laughed, clearly teasing him.
"Have you never been to a masseuse before?"
"To be honest, no, bro. I never really thought it was necessary."
"That just sounds sad to me."
"If that's what you think, I don't have anything to say to that."
Wemmbu snorted.
"You're so boring; I don't know how Egg likes you."
"Egg... what?"
"Yeah, dude. Like, before he got into F1, he was a huge fan of yours. He used to pester me constantly to get an autograph or something."
"Okay, I wasn't expecting that. He's always so quiet when I'm around."
"That's just how he is. What did you expect?" The demon rolled his eyes. "That's why I stood up for you that day against the Red Bull guy."
"Steer?"
"I don't remember his name—probably. He was a massive pain in the ass; we fired him ages ago."
"I have to agree," Parrot sighed. "Anyway, sure, it was wrong of him to intimidate you, but I defended you more for Egg's sake than out of ethics; he’d be pretty upset if I didn't help you out."
That was a bit of a letdown. Parrot had spent all that time thinking Wemmbu’s protection had been special, or something like that.
"Don't get me wrong, Parrot—I’ve got nothing against you; you seem like a cool guy and all—but you’re just such a goody-two-shoes."
"Seriously, man..." Parrot felt his wing twitch in annoyance.
"Yeah, bro, and that’s exactly why *I’m* the biggest bird here."
"What? No, absolutely not. You’re, like, the third-biggest bird."
"Oh, so there’s a top three now?"
"Obviously. Me, Theo, and *then* you."
"Nah. I’m obviously number one."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"No, seriously, man—I’m obviously the tallest and biggest of the bunch."
"Bro, being the biggest bird isn't about size; it’s a mindset."
"You don't say, smartass."
"Oh, I do say. Hypothetically—and I mean *hypothetically*—if you *were* the biggest bird, that would only happen in a world where Theo and I had both been lobotomized."
"Sure, bro. Hypothetically."
"Seriously."
"Uh-huh."
Parrot scoffed at the sarcasm, and Wemmbu stuck his tongue out at him, revealing his piercing for a few seconds.
Seriously, how had his team allowed that…
Parrot turned everything out completely when the lady hit the right spot to relax the base of his wings; he sighed, the sensation making him let his wings go even looser.
When he finally opened his eyes, Wemmbu was staring at him. He was pouting slightly and looked incredibly focused—until he realized Parrot was staring back. As soon as their eyes met, Wemmbu looked away, a faint pink flush coloring his cheeks, and huffed as if Parrot had personally offended him.
God, that guy annoyed him so much.
He was so annoying that the bird-hybrid wanted to squish that face and kiss him until he couldn't keep a straight face anymore.