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Chapter Text

“Oh, Scar!” Grian calls into his office, two tupperware containers in his hands. He rounds the corner to see a very sleepy professor with his head slumped over his desk. Grian, being the pesky bird he was, quietly placed the containers on a desk and slowly approached Scar. He went behind his wheelchair, leaning over it to get a good angle near his ear. “Scar!” He whisper-shouted into his ear, making the man shoot up in surprise with a gasp. 

He looked around for the perpetrator, coming up blank until Grian started laughing behind him. “You scared the daylights out of me!” He shouted, turning to see the man in his usual red sweater behind him as he leaned over and laughed. 

“Sleeping on the job, are you?” He teased. 

Scar let out an offended gasp. “No, I am not. There's no one here except you, and I certainly can't teach you anything. You hardly respect me.” He shook his head and caught sight of the tupperware, leaning across the table to retrieve his. “Oh my gosh, I forgot you said you'd bring pasta.”

“I respect you. Look at my famous pasta waiting for us,” Grian smiled. He sat down across from Scar and brought out a couple forks for them to dig in.

Scar's eyes were still drooping with drowsiness, but this sure helped. He grabbed a fork and opened the steamy container to find, “Penny pasta. My favourite.”

“It's not penny, it's penne,” Grian corrected.

“That's what I said. Penny.”

“No. You're saying it with an ‘ee’ sound at the end. It has an ‘ay’ sound at the end.” 

“Oh, can I just eat my penny-ay in peace?” Scar concluded the conversation by shoving more than a fork-full into his mouth.

Grian couldn't help but smile to himself. He quickly leaned back and took a few bites of his food, worried that Scar would be able to see the light blush on his face. Yes, Grian found it a bit ridiculous that this man with a doctorate's degree in architecture couldn't pronounce penne, but on the other hand… he was crushing hard and Scar being unable to pronounce penne was kind of adorable. 

Sure, it had been years, and sure, he hasn't said anything. So maybe it was a high-school level of keeping his emotions in, but he found it very fulfilling to make lunch for the both of them. Despite having pretty much no time to do so, he didn't mind using his mornings to make food if it meant spending this time everyday together. 

“You won't believe what my student said today,” Scar started, looking up to see Grian already staring at him. Unphased, and probably unaware, he bulldozed on, “I was talking about greek-o… greco-rosan… greco-ronam–”

“Greco-Roman?” Grian supplied.

“Yes– architecture and one of my students started talking about aliens and how there's a theory that they taught humans everything about building and stuff. I just sat there, because what am I supposed to say? It was a very compelling story, but completely unrelated to the fact that I'm trying to teach them how to make buildings and I started to think maybe they're implying I'm an alien, so…” 

Grian giggled as he watched Scar wave his hands around as he spoke, emphasizing seemingly random words. “You're quite close to being an alien, with that power of yours.”

Scar's hands stutter, his soft smile fading ever-so-slightly. “What power?” 

Grian looks awkwardly at Scar. “You know, your power to mispronounce any word,” he said, knowing it was a running joke between them.

“Oh, yeah,” Scar laughed, brushing off his weird attitude. “I guess they found it funny I can't say it.”

“Oh, you said it wrong in front of them, too?” Grian mused. “Let's hope you spell it right for the exam.”

Scar rolled his eyes before lightly gasping and looking back to Grian, “Speaking of, please proofread it for me. I can't have the same thing happen again.”

“Oh, gong be spelt as ‘dong?’” He chuckled.

Scar hid his face in his hands, leaning over the table, “Don't remind me.” 

-

Scar got home a bit later than he thought he would. Gods, he was so, so tired. He placed his keys on the counter and beelined to his room. He laid down, yes in his work clothes, and almost didn't hear the sound of his comm going off next to him. 

He felt around for it on his night stand and pulled it to his ear, pressing on the screen until he heard a click. “Cuuubbbbbb, what is it?” 

“You have to come in the next 30 minutes if you want me to fix your suit.” 

Scar sighed deeply, feeling a weight on his chest. “Yeah… I'll be there in a sec.” He heard the light click, telling him Cub hung up.

He sat up slowly, feeling his legs ache from the stress he's been putting himself through, but he stood and grabbed his cane. He packed up his Hotguy gear into a mildly inconspicuous duffle bag and made his way out the door, grabbing his keys off his counter as he did. So much for getting a nap in. 

He walked down his apartment hall, 3 doors down, and walked right into Cub’s flat. On one counter, there were piles of clear containers with various redstone components, on his couch was a few crochet projects, and on his table was his unofficial Hotguy costume workshop. 

Cub was sat at his kitchen table, reading a book in a very bored looking way, not even turning to look as Scar entered his living room. “You're here very late, sir.”

“I was busy at work,” Scar told him. Truthfully, Grian had caught him in a discussion about the lack of trains in the U.S. and it sparked a very long and heated discussion between the two. 

“Just give me your suit so I can fix it up,” Cub said, holding out his hands. Still, despite knowing exactly how heavy the duffle bag would be, he buckled a bit at the weight. “Gosh, what do you have, robotic legs in here?” 

Scar shrugged with a smile before sitting beside Cub and resting his cane against his chair.

Yes, he did in fact have robotic legs in there. Given to him by the Hero Commision, they were hefty 20 pound legs that gave him the ability to walk despite the limited mobility they had regularly. Cub, a Hero Commision fixer-of-things, happened to be his closest neighbor and helped him get things done without having to go 3 miles away to the Hero Commision office. 

His legs were pretty much constantly in need of repair due to the nature of being a vigilante or Hero or whatever the people called Hotguy that day. His legs got shot at, sliced up, or simply screws got loose from him running a lot. 

“Not bad, you didn't completely wreck these this time,” Cub mused as he pulled the legs out of the bag. “I only see a couple pulled wires!”

“If they're functional without those wires, why are they there?” Scar questioned, shrugging his shoulders. 

Cub shook his head, “They're there as a safety just in case you pull the other life wires.” He points to the opposite side of the robotic leg, split open to show the inside. “This wire holds the power supply and this one connects to your body to send the impulses your brain has to this leg. There's duplicates on the other side because they don't want you to just randomly fall in a fight.” 

“Blah blah blah, redstone, Hotguy, legs,” Scar blabbed. “Fix ‘em and let me nap.” He rubbed his eyes and grabbed his cane before walking to the couch to lay down.

“Yes, please sleep. You're a maniac with how little you rest,” Cub said, collecting a box of redstone parts and getting to work. 

Scar dozed off, hearing the buzzes and sparks coming from the table. His legs ached from the previous night, but he knew he'd have to go out to deal with the issues that have been cropping up in Hermitopia.

-

“So, we've got a heist planned on East Trader's road in about an hour. We'll go in and stop them. There's a creeper hybrid and a wolf hybrid that we know about,” Tek reported, holding out his hand to help Hotguy onto the roof from the fire-escape stairs.

Hotguy nodded, taking his hand and stumbling a bit as he got on the roof. He rebalanced himself, adjusting his bow over his shoulder. He adjusted his split color glasses on his nose with a smile, pushing some of his hair away from his eyes. “Heist on dog food this time?”

“Surprisingly not,” Tek smirked, rolling his eyes. His hair was slightly smoldering as usual, making his blond hair glow a little. “I hear it's a redstone factory owned by the Commision.”

"Oh.” Scar grimaced, “that won't be fun.” He looked at Tek awkwardly, “sure you should be going?” No amount of fireproof clothing Tek wore would save that building from catching.

His tail swished back and forth behind him as he laughed. “Well, I'd rather not go in and make the whole place go kaboom, so I've got a partner for you. He's in training.” On the other side of the roof, Hotguy spotted a man looking over the city in what seemed to be a miniskirt. “Commission's planning on pairing you two.” 

“Huh?” Hotguy was not informed of anything of the sort. Or he was and he didn't check his comm, but that was still crazy! “Since when?!” 

“They started talking about it a couple months ago when they got him in the training program.” Tek shrugged. “Apparently he's been a vigilante for a while, but now he's becoming an official Hero.” They both gazed at the man who turned, his wings becoming visible as he looked over at them two through his heart-shaped pink sunglasses. “Heard they want to call him Cuteguy.”

Hotguy craned his head to meet Tek's red eyes, his jaw slackened. “I've never met him and now he's basically got another version of my name?”

Behind Hotguy, a voice rang out, “Hey hottie.”

Hotguy jumped nearly out of his skin, turning around, pulling his bow off his shoulders. 

The man with the wings and miniskirt was on his left, completely out of nowhere! Upon closer inspection, the miniskirt was actually a pair of flared shorts with 2 huge bows at the ends. He had ombre pink-to-black fingerless gloves that led Hotguy to the avian's sly smirk. The wings on his back and around his ears were also ombre pink-to-black, but significantly more eye-catching, in Hotguy's opinion. He dropped his bow and huffed out a breath. “You scared me!”

“I can tell,” Cuteguy smiled mischievously.

His eyes went down to this so-called ‘Cuteguy's’ legs, which were covered in black stockings and he had adorable white heeled boots with pink soles and little wings on the sides. Okay, maybe Hotguy understood the name. Hotguy felt his cheeks redden and he looked over to Tek. “I'm supposed to work with this guy?”

“He's got super speed. Should help you out quite a bit,” he chuckled, pointing out how he'd been able to get across the roof so fast. “Could be a visual distraction to the enemy, too.”

Hotguy sure wished he could cover more of his face now. While people couldn't really see through his glasses, his red cheeks and crooked smile while he looked at the cutie behind him would surely betray him. 

Tek seemed to immediately see through Hotguy's futile attempt to hide it and smirked. “Well, it seems I'll be on my way since you two will be working on this mission.” He saluted casually with two fingers and started down the fire escape. “I sent everything to your comm. Have fun!”

Hotguy turned to look at his new partner, but found no one on that side of him. “Other side, pea-brain,” a voice called to his right.

“You were right there a second ago!” He argued, turning quickly to see Cuteguy gazing at his pink nails- well, actually they were talons- as if they were more interesting than Hotguy.

“Keep up,” Cuteguy said, flying right above Hotguy with a few quick wingbeats. He sped past him and to the East without looking back. 

Hotguy shook his head and smiled. He sprung into action, feeling his robotic legs strain a bit as he pushed off the edge of the building, bringing his legs in as he landed on the next rooftop, rolling to disperse the impact. 

Meanwhile, Cuteguy, flying with no super speed, did flips and swerved between buildings as he looked back to see Hotguy pursuing him. Hotguy looked ahead of him to jump and grab onto another fire escape, and when he got to the top and looked around, Cuteguy was gone.

He heard a loud clank, where Cuteguy landed around 10 feet behind him, sitting on an AC unit, a leg crossed over the other and he yelled, “slow poke, back here!”

Hotguy spun around, reeling to keep himself balanced on the rooftop's edge he was about to jump from. He looked back and forth a couple times from the sky to Cuteguy. “See, I do want to point out the fact that you're crazy, but it's overshadowed by the fact I just heard you say ‘slow poke.’ When's the last time I even heard that?” He laughed, waving his hand around with a scrunched up face. 

Rolling his eyes, Cuteguy stood and crossed his arms with a sly smile. “Calling me old, Mr. Hotboy?” He challenged, waiting to see if the other had an eloquent response.

Hotguy's eyes widened a bit before he decided it was all in good fun and settled into a playful gaze. No real problem. “Yeah, what's the last movie you saw? Uh- uh- Charlie Chlaplin- uh… Chaplin?”

“You seem real confident about that,” Cuteguy regarded. He started across the roof before switching his direction and sprinting straight toward Hotguy, arms outstretched.

“Oh, woah, woah, woah,” Hotguy looked behind him to see the edge of the roof and awkwardly tried to scoot to the side. It was too late as he was scooped under the arms into Cuteguy's grasp and blasted into the air at super speed. 

His eyes latched shut instinctually as he screamed against Cuteguy's chest, hearing the wind whip against his ears as he dug his fingers into the other man's back to ensure he didn’t free-fall. The cover of night was very fortunate in this situation, and he hoped this wouldn't end up on anyone's news feed. 

“Can't be slow now,” Cuteguy snickered, a chirp coming through in his laugh. 

Hotguy got the slight confidence to open his eyes a moment to stare incredulously at the man currently flying him across the city. “How is this a necessary measure?!” He shouted, afraid to move much more. He watched as Cuteguy's feathers rustled in the wind, especially his aural feathers around his ears, which tickled Hotguy's nose a bit. He looked at the black makeup around the avian's eyes, shrouding the upper half of his face like lace to keep his identity hidden. His eyes were glowing a light purple, which caught Hotguy's eye. “When did your eyes turn purple?”

Cuteguy giggled, “that was a quick change of topic.” The world turned upside down and Hotguy felt his ears pop as they spun around high in the air. 

He screamed more, “You're gonna kill me!” He closed his eyes again, Cuteguy entering what felt like a free-fall from however many hundreds of feet high up they were.

Cuteguy giggled, suddenly spreading his wings out to slow their descent. “More your speed?” He asked, letting them drift along peacefully. 

The altitude chilled Hotguy’s ears and he was scared to pull his face away from Cuteguy’s shoulder. He feared he'd developed a rapid onset phobia of heights. “Please get me down,” he said, trying to sound calm, but his voice wavered both in pitch and in volume. He saw a peek of the distance between his legs and the ground and immediately, with a screech, clutched harder to Cuteguy's costume. “Blondie, please!”

Cuteguy chirped a laugh and squeezed Hotguy. “I'm getting you down, you're fine.” With a few thrusts of his wings to soften the landing, he set both their feet on the ground gently. Still, Hotguy clung to the shorter man, his face hidden. “We're here,” Cuteguy stated plainly, pulling his arms away from the Hero's waist.

Hotguy slowly stood back, surprised he didn't feel an impact when they landed. His robotic legs didn't always register feeling, and farther down his legs, he didn't feel anything at all. So when his feet landed down softly, none of the impact traveled up enough for him to actually feel. 

He looked up at the windswept hair of Cuteguy, trying not to stare. “I-” his voice cracked, but he corrected it to sound a bit more confrontational, “I can't believe you'd do that without asking.” He crossed his arms and looked away in a show of opposition, when in fact, it was to close off his body language that showed his heart was beating fast, not only from his fear of heights.

Cuteguy stepped forward, trying to get a look at Hotguy's face. In his most genuine voice of the night, which was still a bit teasing, he said, “oh, are you scared of flying?”

Hotguy raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, “no, noooo,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand and a scoff, “I'm just not a fan of… uhhh… y'know.”

“Doing things you're not prepared for?” Cuteguy supplied.

“Yeahhh!” He nodded, still waving his hand back and forth. “Not scared of heights. At least I wasn't until now.” He quickly stopped his pacing and turned, “and that's not to say I'm scared nooowww… just that being up in the air…” he paused, “it's different. Very different.” He concluded, dropping his arms to his sides and sighing.

Cuteguy rolled his eyes with a smile. “Sure.” 

He turned to look at the factory they came upon. It was concrete, covered in graffiti, and caked in grey and green dirt. The roof was a series of panels that seemed to be worn down sheet metal, clearly patched in some places by garbage bags or poorly fitted replacement panels. On the facade, there was the outline of a previously removed sign that read “Hermitopia Redstone Supply,” that hadn't been exposed to the elements as long as the rest. He looked down to check the small comm on his wrist. He tapped it and a message came up with details about the heist they were about to bust.

“Yeah, we should get down to business,” Hotguy said, taking his place standing beside Cuteguy a few feet from the edge of the roof.

Their comms both lit up, Hotguy adjusted his glasses and quickly read over it. “So, I'm thinking… let's find a weak point on the roof where we can spy into there and wait until we see the robbers break in.” 

Cuteguy looked over to him with a poorly hidden grimace. “You think that's gonna work with the state of that roof?”

The Hero crossed his arms and frowned slightly, gazing across the road at the fallen panels at the side of the building, “Well, that's a factor.” He tapped his chin with his pointer finger inquisitively.

“There's quite the simple solution here, brain man.” Hotguy looked over at Cuteguy's smug smirk.

“Aaand…?” He prompted.

Cuteguy huffed an amused breath. “You can wait here,” he smiled incredulously, “and I go over there.” He pointed to a rooftop facing another part of the factory. He spoke in a somewhat condescending tone, but it went right over Hotguy's head and he nodded with a grin.

“Sounds good to me,” he took out a spyglass from his pocket and leaned on the parapet to use it. “Just alert me if you see something. I'll have an open comm for us to talk.”

Cuteguy stood for a moment, a bit baffled at the man in front of him. “You're calling me old cause I said slow poke and now you have a spyglass?” He scowled, confused. “Where did it even come from. Your whole get-up is skin tight!” 

Continuing to gaze through his copper spyglass, he dismissed Cuteguy with a wave, “the heist is supposed to start real soon, so get another vantage point.”

With a sneer, Cuteguy uses his super speed to fly himself to a building parallel with the back face of the factory. When he landed, he stole a glance back at Hotguy, who was happily looking through his spyglass. Is he serious? Cuteguy thought. It seemed genuinely ridiculous and not in an endearing way; more in a how has Hotguy been a Hero for this long, kind of way. At least eight years, to Cuteguy's knowledge, fighting crime and solving criminal cases, and he uses a spyglass?!

“Are you scouting out my crazy good looks or the troublemakers?” A voice bursted out of Cuteguy's comm. He jumped and glowered down at the device strapped to his wrist.

“The only troublemaker I see is an overgrown toddler given a Hotguy costume- oh waaait-”

“Focus!” Hotguy grumbled. “I see a… goat… creeper? Something. He's green with goat horns and some cyborg parts. He's coming in from your side. Keep an eye out.”

Cuteguy shut his mouth and quickly started spying the alley below him. 

There he was, goat horns, scarred green skin, and metal arm. Behind him was a dark brown haired man with fluffy ears and a tail. Both were wearing black shades and holding giant black bags behind them.

“These look like the people Tek warned us about,” Cuteguy reported, whispering while toeing around to try to get a better look at what they were doing. “They've also got a car, it seems like. There's keys dangling from the cyborg's belt loop.” 

“Okay. I'm coming in,” Hotguy declared without any deliberation. 

He pulled his grappling hook from his belt and threw it to land on the building Cuteguy was at. The robbers looked up and saw Cuteguy looking down at them, then started to tear open the side entrance to the building. 

Fuck! He thought, he just gave away my position!

Hotguy swooped in, jumping from his rope right into action. He kicked the dog-hybrid to the ground, and turned to see the creeper hybrid breaking in. “Woah, slow down there, buddy,” he quipped, laughing at the man using the crowbar. 

Suddenly, the force behind the crowbar cut in half. He was hardly pulling the door open at all and looked incredulously at Hotguy. “What the heck?” 

Behind him, Cuteguy let himself jump down from the roof and join in the battle. The wolf hybrid got up and threw a punch into Hotguy's side, using his slight stagger to get past and kick open the door. Together, the two robbers ran inside and started filling all the bags they brought with redstone products.

Speedily in after them, Cuteguy tackled the creeper to the ground, trying to wrench the bags from his iron-grip hand. The cyborg fought back by sinking a short knife attached to his robotic hand into Cuteguy's side, leaving the latter leaning back and wincing, his wings flapping in pain behind him. 

Hotguy raced into the factory, assessing the scene before him. He pulled his bow over his head and yelled, “Halt!” His eyes glowed a light red, his face caught in an angry scowl. He nocked an arrow and watched as all three of the people before him froze. He slowly approached Cuteguy's side, his gaze unwavering from the two villains staring at him. The room was eerily quiet as Hotguy lightly toed Cuteguy's heel. Cuteguy furrowed his brows in confusion that he was able to move again, looking between the two frozen villains.

“What are you doing?” He asked, hesitantly standing and pulling out a knife, trying to ignore his bleeding side.

It was so quiet, they could hear a pin drop.

Hotguy ignored the question. “There's some rope on that far wall. We need to wrap them up to bring them to the police.” His voice was firm and low. His eyes never stopped glowing or made contact with Cuteguy's. 

Still, the avian nodded and speedily grabbed the rope and started wrapping the two hybrids. The trance seemed to break as soon as the rope touched their bodies. The creeper hybrid held up his arm and a latch released the knife in his hand, his movement stopped short when an arrow flew right into his leg. The dog hybrid bounded toward Hotguy, freeing himself from the unfinished rope, and held out his claws to swipe.

Hotguy dropped his bow, leaned forward, grabbed the villain's arm and twisted it, flipping him around to land behind him on his back. Hotguy brought out another rope from his utility belt and tied up the dog's wrists. “Tough luck, puppy,” he quipped as he fastened the knot.

Meanwhile, Cuteguy kicked the creeper's legs out from under him and pulled the rope tight to stop him from getting up. He wrapped the rope a couple more times around his legs before calling it a day and tied it off. He stood back and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked up to see Hotguy ogling at him in a not-so-discreet way. “Let's get these two out of here,” he said, breaking Hotguy’s stare.

He nodded, “yeah. I'll take a picture of their license plate really quick just in case.” He walked out, bringing his comm up to his face, leaving Cuteguy to listen to the villains struggle against their restraints.

“This isn't the end, yet, Doc,” the dog hybrid panted, pulling at his wrists.

The cyborg-creeper-goat guy, Doc, huffed, “give it up, Ren.”

Hotguy came back into the building through the busted down door and sighed, looking at the door with a grimace, “I'll call someone to fix that up… right now, let's get these goobers to the station.” He leaned down and grabbed the dog hybrid, throwing him over his shoulder. He smiled at Cuteguy, waiting for him to grab the other as Ren writhed around in his arms.

“Let me go, you stupid little Hero!”

Cuteguy shook his head and threw Doc over his shoulder (with much less grace) and followed Hotguy out of the factory. “Did you really just say ‘goobers?’ And you have the nerve to make fun of me?”

Hotguy snickered, “I think slow poke is worse.” 

When Cuteguy looked over at Hotguy, he noticed his eyes were back to his normal green and he couldn't help but stare curiously. He wondered what power the Hero had been using. It seemed to stop people in their tracks and he'd never seen something like that before. He honestly found it kind of creepy.

They arrived at the police station and dropped off the troublemakers. Hotguy made a call to the Commision reporting the capture and license plate, and requesting for someone to repair the broken door. 

As they were walking down the street to begin their nightly patrol, Hotguy turned to look at the avian. “You did well out there. Never seen super speed in person. Kind of trippy. Also never been flying before, so that was scary.”

Cuteguy smirked. “Well, if you weren't such a slow poke, I wouldn't need to fly you there.”

“There it is with that phrase again!” He laughed, exasperated. “Where does it even come from? Chlarlie- uh- Charplie- gah!” He sticks out his tongue before shaking his head. “Charlie Chapsin.” 

Cuteguy laughed, but quickly doubled over when he felt the gash in his side. “Forgot about that,” he winced, out of breath and held his side.

Hotguy immediately dropped a knee and examined the area. “When did you start bleeding?” His voice was immediately back to superhero mode; serious and stern sounding.

Cuteguy removed his hand tentatively so Hotguy could see. “It's not bad at all. Just a small gash from the creeper guy.” The wound wasn't too deep, just in a bad place that took a lot of movement.

“We're going to the Commission to get that healed up,” Hotguy said, pulling some bandages from his utility belt and wrapping it around Cuteguy's waist. 

The avian backed away and snatched the roll of bandages from the other's hand. “I'll do it myself. It's really not bad enough for a healer,” he argued, wincing a bit as he tightly wrapped the wound. 

“No, I'm taking you to the healer whether you like it or not,” he raised an eyebrow, “It's whether you want me to drag you there or you walk there yourself that you can control.”

Cuteguy pulled a face, furrowing his brows and glaring at the man still on his knee. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” He tied off the bandage and straightened his spine, walking off down the street.

Hotguy pushed himself back to standing and followed after him, surprised by how fast the man walked normally at such a stout height. “Are you even using your power right now?”

He shook his head, “no, you're just really slow.” He debated saying ‘slow poke’ again to really grind Hotguy's gears, but decided against it, for fear of laughing too hard again. In reality, he was using a bit of his super speed, but not enough to hurt himself more.

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

They walked a couple miles together over to the Hero Commision building, which was unassuming on purpose. There was another Hero Tower building, which was the “official” place for Heroes, but rarely used by actual Heroes; it was more for training new Heroes, auditions, symbolic offices and the like. The Commision building here was unassuming because Heroes would come in without their uniform from time to time on the base level to get outfit repairs or any other sort of non-emergency medical things done. On the upper level was the emergency room of sorts where injured Heroes would come in after a fight to get healed up. The lower level was a collection of offices for Commision officials that would keep track of crimes, resolutions, and plans. There was a lower lower level with stacks upon stacks of files ready to be sorted, then another room on the same level with all the sorted files. 

Through the back entrance from the alley, Hotguy scanned his comm to let them both in. They made their way to the elevator and Cuteguy leaned against the wall as the doors shut. 

“I could have helped you walk or carried you,” Hotguy said, watching the avian slump over in pain. “I hope walking didn't make it worse.”

“I'm fine, really,” he assured, sitting back up and dismissing the other with a wave of his hand. “Tis but a scratch.” 

“Oh, now we're going Shakespeare, huh?” Hotguy smiled, holding out his arm for Cuteguy to lean on as they walked out of the elevator. 

Ever stubborn, Cuteguy blazed on without the help and went to the desk. “Small gash on my side from a serrated knife.”

The person nodded and directed them to a room to sit down. Immediately, a healer came in and took a seat beside the patient's bed, where Cuteguy was lying and taking the dressings off the wound. The bandages came back bloodied and he gasped a little at the amount, considering he thought it hadn’t been that bad. Hotguy took the bandages from his hand and disposed of them with a worried grimace.

“What happened there?” The healer asked, bringing his hand to the wound with a pair of thin gloves.

Cuteguy winced at the contact, “nothing too bad. Just a knife to the side. Didn't go too deep.”

“He's been walking around with that for at least an hour,” Hotguy butted in, “I'd be surprised if he didn't reopen it a couple times.”

Snitch, Cuteguy thought.

“I see…” the healer spoke. “Lay back and I'll have to use some antiseptic before I go ahead and heal the cut closed.”

The healer turned to gather the materials and Cuteguy laid back in the bed nervously. Hotguy offered his hand to him and was met with a confused look.

“It burns… thought you'd need something to grip onto,” he shrugged.

Cuteguy gave him a dirty look, his aural feathers puffing up in defense. “I'm fine by myself.”

“Alright,” Hotguy stood. “I'll leave you to it.”

He exited the room just as the healer placed the antiseptic on Cuteguy's wound and he could hear a wince and pained coo escape his throat. Hotguy headed back downstairs to see if he could get someone to check on his robotic legs before he would head out. When he found no techs he knew were in, he walked right out and started to head home, feeling his chest tighten as he thought about Cuteguy.

He thought he looked so amazing when he was fighting. The way his wings splayed out to correct his balance, and his angry eyes glowed purple as he used his power. Despite that, he was so very stubborn, which was very cute, but Hotguy worried it would cause problems if he wasn't willing to tell him about that gash he got. 

Either way, Hotguy- no, Scar- Scar needed to lie down and get some rest. He had work tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Grian woke with a start. His chest heaved as he wrestled himself out of the sheets and looked over to see the time. Shit! His first lecture started in 30 minutes and he wasn't even dressed.

With the added benefit of super speed, he got dressed, brushed his teeth, fed his cats, and put on his shoes before walking right out the door with 20 minutes to spare. His normal walk to Hermitopia University was around 15 minutes, so he could make it just in the nick of time. 

As he walked into his lecture hall, he was greeted by students noisily discussing something around a couple tables at the front of the room. This wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if the discussion didn’t seem so exciting. His students were frequently dozing off in class, so this sort of talk among so many students made Grian listen in.

“I've never seen this guy before, have you?” One said, holding up a picture on their phone. 

Grian approached the table, joining into a blank space between a couple students. “So what's the discussion today?” He leaned in to see a photo of… himself! Seeing his wings on someone’s phone felt very unnatural. Hiding them for all these years, and now there they are on full display, permanently in pixels. He felt the urge to hiss at them, but he had enough self restraint for the time being.

“Hero Tower Official retweeted this photo someone got of Hotguy and this random dude coming out of the police station.” The photo pictured Hotguy down on his knee looking at Cuteguy's wound. Above him, Cuteguy looked like he'd had enough of the idiot- maybe that was Grian’s internal bias- as he glared down with a scowl.

“I saw another one of Hotguy gets carried by the avian guy,” a student said, frantically scrolling their phone to find it. “HTO is being super cryptic about the whole situation.” They turned their phone around to show a blurry photo. It took a second to see, but it was Cuteguy, his arms clutching Hotguy, and Hotguy desperately grabbing onto Cuteguy, his legs dangling in the air. Admittedly, his wings took up the majority of the frame, and it seemed to be what everyone was so captivated by.

“Wow, this is crazy stuff,” he said, surprised by what one night as a Hero next to Hotguy could do. His students knew about it, so he wondered just how many other people did, too.

A student nodded in response. “All of this came up just last night.”

Grian felt like the inside of his skin was itching as he looked at more and more pictures of himself. His wings felt so tight tucked up in his back. He couldn’t look at all these pictures of his wings splayed out and free when he was here, his wings bound by concern for his own social safety. He backed away and laughed awkwardly, “Well, it’s time for class.”

-

When lunch time came around, his heart dropped a little as he realized he didn't have any lunch prepared for Scar and himself. He grabbed his bag and started toward Scar's building slower than he usually would.

Why did I completely blank?! He thought to himself. Should I go buy us something? Should I get him food from the dining hall? Should I ask him out to lunch? He paused, tripping over his own foot. Let's not be that forward. I mean, he's been really exhausted, no reason to make him think of more things. 

When he reached Scar's office, he knocked on the door and heard the response, “Come in!” in a sing-song voice.

The professor was at his desk tidying up papers and turned to look at his visitor. “Well, hello there, Grian.” He smiled.

Grian grinned back, trying to hide his awkwardness, “You're much more awake today.”

“You know I got a coffee this morning and I don't remember the last time I've had coffee and all that caffeine can't be good for me but here I am having downed an entire coffee! I can't seem to stop talking I think I'm driving my students up the walls. I feel so prod- proluc- productive and everything is working out great, I mean look at this whole stack of papers I got graded, it's crazy!”

“Slow down there, cowboy,” Grian laughed, “Take a breather.” He sat across from Scar.

“Whooo,” Scar heaved out a sigh, rubbing his hands together, a smile catching the corners of his mouth. “I'm here. I've got it. Time for lunch!”

Grian bit his tongue, “Speaking of lunch… I woke up late and I don't have anything. We can go to the canteen or a restaurant nearby… my treat.” Grian tried to keep his face casual. Friends do this all the time, it's normal. I mean, it's not like I asked him on a date or anything, his rational brain said. In the back of his head was the irrational side, that said ‘oh so eloquently,’ OH MY GODS WHY DID I JUST SAY THAT AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! 

“Oh, no problem, no problem,” Scar beamed with an energetic nod, “What are you in the mood for? Burgers? Shushi? Ramen? Mexican? Chinese?”

“Did you really just say shushi?” Grian couldn't hold in a chirp of amusement. He covered his mouth to act like it was a hiccup. “I'm not in the mood for sushi , but ramen sounds good.”

“Oh, I thought I said it right this time,” he shrugged, “I know a place right down the street for ramen. Let me grab my bag real quick.” He stood for a moment so he could reach the hook he left it on, and slung his bag over the handles of his wheelchair.

“Alright, lead the way,” Grian said, holding the door open for Scar.

They headed out of the building and down the road to a quaint ramen bar with intricate lanterns hanging from the ceiling and gorgeous ceramic ramen bowls stacked between the bar and the kitchen. The windows were stained red and white, patterns of flowers etched into it. Everywhere, there were geometric patterns lining the place. The lighting was soft, leaving Grian with a much more intimate look at Scar than he’d seen before. They were led to a table and sat across from each other, and when the host left, Grian quickly turned to talk to Scar.

“How'd you find this place?” Grian asked, turning a napkin around in his hands.

Scar's face lit up, “You know, my friend works here, actually. I think he might be here now. I was talking with him about it and he said it was the best ramen place ever and I wanted to check it out for myself.” Scar leaned forward and dropped his jaw, “When I tell you this ramen is better than any other I've tried, I mean it.” He leaned back and waved his hands around energetically, “It’s gonna change your life!” Suddenly his eyes lit up and looked behind Grian, “Joel!” 

“Hey, Scar!” Joel grinned, “How’s it going?”

“Good, good! I'm so happy to see you here. This is Grian,” he introduced. Grian sat there with an awkward smile while rubbing the napkin between his fingers. “I was just talking about how you showed me this place. I just know he's gonna love it, too!”

“I'm sure,” Joel nodded along. Grian looked at his dark brown hair that had a dyed green streak in his bangs, and his brown apron over a white shirt.

“I'm so excited!” He sighed happily, then a thought crossed his mind and he let out a small gasp, “Oh, by the way, how is Lizzie?” 

“She’s great! She's working next door at the flower shop right now, actually.” Joel threw a thumb over his shoulder to the opposite wall.

Scar’s eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise, “Oh, I love flowers. I should stop by some time. I'm sure it's amazing. Speaking of amazing, the ramen needs to get in my belly now!” He thumbed through the menu, before deciding on a dish. “You, Grian?”

Grian startled a little, his heart getting a small restart. “Oh… um… what's the best thing on the menu, Joel?” He asked in a panic.

“I'll keep it a secret, but I'll bring it out,” He smiled. “I'll be back in a few ticks.”

Scar turned back to Grian, the same huge smile plastered on his face. “Isn't he just a sweetheart? You should see how cute him and Lizzie are. She's a great florist, you know. I once got a ton of cemanth- clamat- camantadums? I really don't know how to say it, but those flowers are gorgeous. She made such an amazing bouquet from them. Baby's breath smells weird. Why is it called that? Did you know there’s a whole color theory thing with flowers? I wonder who came up with that and why is that so normalized? I mean, it’s even used in architecture! When I was in grad school, they made me do this course on flower meanings and it was one of the weirdest things I've ever done. Did you know that rendezvous points are marked by this one flower, I'm blanking on the name, but it's so weird! I have nooo idea how that stuff started, like were some people sat around a table and just thought, ‘yeah, guys, let's make a code for flowers’? That's like if I made a code for hairstyles. Like imagine if your hairstyle meant ‘I hate the John Wick movies-’”

“Scar, you're ranting and I'm pretty lost,” he noted with a smile, leaving the whole place quieter once Scar's voice stopped to listen, his curious eyes boring right into Grian’s soul, making him look away and laugh. “You're too hyped off caffeine to make much sense to me right now.”

“Okay, okay, let me slow down,” Scar said, still speaking at a fast pace. He shook out his hands to release some energy. “Wow, I should not drink coffee.”

“Why'd you get it, anyway?” Grian asked, relaxing a bit into his seat.

Scar seemed to pause for a second before answering. “Barely got any sleep. You know how it is.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“How what is?” Grian hadn't gotten much sleep either, but he worried for Scar considering he was pretty much always tired. He needed much more sleep than what he got, especially considering he fell asleep somewhat regularly in his office. “You need sleep, man.” 

“I mean, I was just… doing some grading. I also just have a hard time falling asleep, I guess,” he brushed it off. “Enough talking about my sleep schedule! More about you.”

They spoke for a while, joking back and forth, until their ramen came out steaming and covered in a thin layer of oil that made it look all the more delicious.

Grian ogled at his bowl, mouth salivating. “I've never seen anything more glorious in my life…” The ramen had thick noodles and vegetables arranged on the top with tofu and crunchy dried onion pieces.

Scar laughed, “It tastes even better than it looks!” He grabbed his chopsticks and started digging in, immediately burning his tongue. “Hot, hot!” He squealed while fanning his mouth. 

Grian cackled out a laugh, looking to Joel who was hiding his own laugh. “Does this happen every time?”

“Absolutely, yes,” he shook his head. “Well, I hope you two enjoy.”

“Whooo, that hurt,” Scar sighed, exasperated. He turned to take a long sip of water before stating, “Still tastes great though. You should try yours!”

Grian grabbed some noodles and veggies and blew on them to cool them down. “Is it so hard to do this, Scar?” He slurped it up and melted at the taste, his eyes closing and a smile forming on his broth covered lips.

“There was no time! You now know how good it is. You can't make fun of me anymore!”

“If you burn your taste buds, you're not even going to be able to taste it!”

“I can't hear you over this amazing food,” Scar said whilst slurping up another bite of noodles.

When it came time to leave, Joel came back with their receipt and waved them off with a wink. “Bye bye, lovebirds!”

Grian’s face turned cherry red and he bit back a chirp of surprise. On the other side of the table, very much unaware of Grian's state, Scar laughed, “No such thing!” He waved his fist as Joel looked back with a mischievous grin. Then, he turned to see Grian's red face and cracked up. “Don't be embarrassed. He jokes like that with everyone.”

“Oh, yeah… haha…” Grian managed to articulate. Again, his rational brain thought, no big deal at all! Just joking between friends. But, rationality was not what he could focus on. Really, what he thought was, HE SEES HOW EMBARRASSED I AM. I NEED TO RUN AWAY TO A REMOTE LOCATION AND START A NEW LIFE. 

“Goodness, I could really use another coffee right now,” Scar said, starting to wheel toward the door. 

“Scar!” Grian popped out of his seat and followed him, making sure to make eye contact with him as he opened the door. “You are not about to get another coffee. Your students won't understand you with how fast you talk.”

He pretended to think it over, dramatically sighing, “I suppose.”

-

Cub:

Are your legs okay?

Tek:

Remember that the Commision assigned you to patrol tonight. Cuteguy has been put on the same route as you.

Commision notification:

New protocol in place for patrols - new map available.

Cuteguy:

We start at 8th street. Meet me on the roof of Ranchers Hotel.

Cub:

Your legs better be in my room in the next 10 minutes mister guy.

Scar stretched from his short caffeine crash nap. His couch certainly hadn’t relieved his aches and getting into his wheelchair only made them worse. He collected his robotic legs and stuffed them in his duffle bag and put them in his lap so he could roll down the hall to Cub's. He went in, as always without knocking, and greeted him, “Hiya, Cub!” 

“Hey, Scar.” He looked over with a blank yet comforting stare, “Legs bothering you more than usual?” He asked, noticing Scar’s choice to be in his wheelchair for the short trip.

“Yeah, I was running yesterday and got some bruising,” he said, rubbing his sore thighs. “It's rough out there.” He placed the duffle bag on Cub's table so he could get to work. He wheeled his way over to the other side of the table so he could avoid the bright worklight that shined on the tech’s projects.

“You know what I'm gonna say,” Cub stated plainly. Scar stared at him with an unimpressed face. “Go to the clinic regularly to get checked out… you can't just break your body.”

“It's been broken!” Scar argued without much fight behind it. The conversation was old and done, but of course, Cub still brought it up because it was such a glaring issue. After a few moments of immoderate silence, Scar surrendered. “I'll go to the clinic at some point,” he mumbled.

“This week, please.” Cub fiddled with the robotic leg and came up with a shattered toe plate. “Geez. Where'd this come from?” He held it up for Scar to see.

Scar looked at it curiously, impressed by the way the piece stayed together despite the strength components being separated into a couple dozen pieces. “Chasing… someone. Y'know, had to do some hard-core parkour on the rooftops. I totally looked so cool.”

“Well… not sure who this ‘someone’ is… or why your cheeks turned pink when you said it… but don't land directly on the toe plate. I know you can't feel it, but if you could, that would have broken your toes had you not had these on,” he told him, taking a screwdriver and removing the toe plate on the other leg. “I'll have to go to the Commision to get a replacement, but I'll fix these ones so you can use them tonight.”

Scar, hung up on the first part, pursed his lips awkwardly. “I'll make sure not to land on the toe plate.” He accentuated the T at the end, making Cub turn to look at the flush cheeked Hero.

“Now you've got me curious, Scar,” Cub chuckled, “Who were you chasing?”

“You wouldn't know them,” Scar dismissed, looking away with a wave of his hand. 

Cub raised a brow at him, “Try me.”

Scar sighed, “Well…” he adjusted in his wheelchair, leaning to one side, “The Commision wants to give me a new sidekick or whatever.”

“I heard it was more of a partner, not a sidekick.”

“Whatever. Either way, I met him last night.” His voice lowered to a mumble, “They didn't get his name wrong…”

Cub burst out laughing, dropping his tools on the table. “Oh my Gods, Scar. He's your type?”

“I didn't even say who it was!”

Cub looked at him with mock disbelief, “You think I don't get memos about this stuff? Cuteguy's been in the Hero Tower for a while. I've seen him.”

“Oh, no,” Scar giggled while burying his face in his hands. “I don't even know what to say for myself.”

“I'm surprised you're all worked up over it. Is he really that cute?”

“Yeah! His name is Cuteguy, what do you expect?!” Scar burst out, throwing his hands up with some frustration. “I also think he hates me a little!”

“What makes you say that?” Cub refocused his attention and turned the robotic leg around in his hands, checking to see if there are any more broken parts to repair.

Scar ran his hand through his hair. “He kind of- I mean, not really, but pretty much- growled at me when I tried to offer him my hand.”

“Why did you do that, anyway?” Cub asked, audibly trying to hold back an exasperated tone.

“He was getting healed and I know the antiseptic stings and maybe he wanted something to hold onto- I don't know!” Scar sunk back into his wheelchair and threw his head to the side dramatically. “It's stupid.”

Cub shook his head with a smirk. He worked on the leg silently for a while before tightening up the last bolt and testing the bend of the knee. “Looks about good to me.” He stuffed them back into the duffle bag and handed it to Scar. “Better get to patrol.”

“Yep…” Scar sighed. He made his way to the door and let himself out, sending a wave Cub’s way. “Thank you for everything. See you later.”

He went back to his apartment and changed into his Hotguy uniform, checking himself out in the mirror. He wondered how visible his abs were in the low light… but avians did have good sight… He adjusted his hair and bow, trying to see how others would view him. Why he started caring so much? Unimportant.

With a quick invisibility potion, he jumped out the window onto the roof and started for Ranchers Hotel. The night was starting to settle in and he felt the cold breeze on his skin. It was always such a relief to feel the world differently as he climbed buildings and jumped across rooftops. It was one of the few things that kept him sane. When he got to his desired location, he spotted Cuteguy- arms crossed, legs wide, cute boots(!)- and decided to scare him since the invisibility hadn't worn off just yet.

He tiptoed behind the avian and got a few feet away before Cuteguy turned around sharply, pulled the bow over his head, and nocked an arrow. “I hear you.” He looked around curiously and stepped forward, the arrow head mere inches away from Hotguy's chest. 

Hotguy, unsure of what to do now, took his pointer finger and pushed the tip of the arrow away from him. “It's Hotguy, I swear.” 

“I heard a bit of high pitched squeaking…” Cuteguy lowered his bow with a grimace. “Why are you squeaky?”

Hotguy shrugged, knowing the other couldn't see it. “Squeaky shoes I guess.”

“Well, how long has that potion got left?”

“Can't stand not being able to see my beautiful face?” Hotguy joked, checking his comm… which was invisible. He twisted around to see the time on Cuteguy's comm. “Less than a minute til you'll see my crazy big biceps.”

“This is really unsettling to have the air talk to me with all that inflated ego,” Cuteguy remarked. “Well, since we need to go over this anyway, did you read the updated protocol?”

“No.”

“Course you didn't…” This guy is a Hero! A Hero! It's like I'm babysitting him right now . “Well, it's pretty basic. Anyone doing crimes associated with the Commission are to be sent to the Hero Tower instead of the police department.”

“Alright,” Scar commented, wiggling his fingers in front of his face as they started to become visible. “Sounds easy enough.” He brought up the updated patrol route on his comm and saw that it was basically the same as the last one, but with a couple added streets. “Let's get going.”

Cuteguy followed beside Hotguy as they jumped from roof to roof, looking around for any trouble. It seemed like a pretty quiet night, the alleyways empty and the streets only having a few people milling around. 

Hotguy decided it was a decent time as any for conversation, something he hadn't had much of on patrols. “How's training going?”

Cuteguy, opposed to the idea of speaking with this imbecile, replied shortly, “Fine.”

“Oh, really? I've heard they've been upping the ante for the training.”

Clearly you could've used it , Cuteguy thought. “It's reasonably difficult.”

“Well, what kind of stuff are you doing?” Hotguy asked, flashing a small smile to Cuteguy.

All looks, no brain . “I've been testing my bow accuracy. I'm at 93%.”

“Dang!” Hotguy laughed. “Can't cross you!”

“Yeah. You shouldn't.” He let out an annoyed chitter.

“Birdy, birdy, birdy,” Hotguy sang quietly to himself as he looked out over an alleyway. 

How old are you? He thought with a sneer.

“In my thirties.”

Cuteguy chirped in surprise. I said that out loud?! “Oh… uh… me, too.”

“Makes sense. You're very smart and strategic,” Hotguy smiled, hopping up onto a new building. “Only comes with time.”

“Thank you,” Cuteguy said, relaxing his shoulders a bit. He was being harsh, he realized. He barely knew this guy.

“No problem. It's easy to tell the truth.”

Hotguy reached out his hand to help Cuteguy up the tall ledge and, despite his less scathing perspective on the Hero, Cuteguy just flapped his wings a couple times to help himself up. “I don't need the help,” he laughed, trying to sound a bit more light-hearted.

“Doesn't hurt to offer,” Hotguy shrugged. 

They continued their round well into the night. The streets were calm except for a few bar fights that took no time to stop. At the end of their route, which stopped near the Commission's redstone factory, Hotguy paused. The car that the robbers had left was surrounded by a couple of people dressed in dark clothing. The car was being shaken around as one pulled hard repeatedly on the driver's side handle.

“Cuteguy.” His Hero voice was back, the avian had noticed. He whipped around to see what the other was looking at.

Cuteguy crouched down, inching toward the edge to get a better look. It seemed to be a redheaded woman with green skin along with a man with light blue hair. They circled around to the back of the truck, the woman climbing into the back, pulling up a tarp.

“Let's go ahead and get down into the next alleyway so we can swing around to surprise them,” he decided. “No swinging in on your little grappling hook.”

Hotguy put his hand on his chest to defend himself, “My grappling hook is a perfectly decent size, I'll have you know.”

Cuteguy spit out a chirpy laugh. “Don't say that! Focus!” 

They creeped across the roof, laying low as they found their way to the alley. Hotguy, following Cuteguy's lead, couldn't help but admire the other's gorgeous wings. He wondered if they felt as soft as they looked. He wanted to look at Cuteguy's face again to see the details on his aural feathers. They're so pretty. 

“Hotguy!” Cuteguy whisper yelled, finally looking back to see the love struck puppy behind him.

“Hm?” He quickly closed his mouth he didn't know was open. He's so pretty.  

“I asked you twice! Do you want me to fly us down so your grappling hook doesn't make a ton of noise?” 

“I mean…” it's not that loud, but , “yeah, sounds fine.”

They stood and Cuteguy grabbed Hotguy by the waist, trying to ignore the latter's slightly pathetic blushed face. “If you don't want to fall, you have to put your arms around me, too. I don't have super strength.”

“Oh, yeah.” He put his arms around Cuteguy's waist hesitantly before they were suddenly in the air and he held on for dear life, clutching the avian's shirt as a lifeline. 

“My gosh, don't tear it. There's already a hole in it from the knife,” Cuteguy whispered before silently landing in the alley and letting go of Hotguy. 

They stepped back from each other, Hotguy glancing down to see the hole in the other's outfit. “Get it fixed.”

“I will. Now let's focus on the problem, please.”

They only got a step out of the alleyway when the truck they'd seen just a second ago was speeding past, the hijackers booking it around the corner. 

Immediately, Hotguy ran behind, pulling his bow over his head and nocking an arrow. He felt the wind of Cuteguy speeding past him, leaving him in the dust. Cuteguy's form was barely visible as he flipped over and mid-air shot an arrow through the truck's back window, shattering it and leaving glass tumbling into the truck bed and down the street. Then, he was on top of the cab, crouching down. He looked back to see Hotguy dashing far behind.

Hotguy slowed to a stop, taking a moment to really aim. He followed the line of movement and took a deep breath in. Breathe out. Shoot. The arrow lodged itself right into the truck's back tire, making it pop. The truck lost speed fast, causing Cuteguy to lose balance and fall into the truck bed, glass embedding itself in his wings. He winced a breath before yelling into the truck cab, “Stop now and we'll let you off easier!”

He was met with the driver slamming the brakes as hard as they could, leaving Cuteguy to violently fall back again, opening the tailgate and tumbling to the asphalt, scraping his arm and cheek. The two thieves ran right out of the vehicle, leaving it stranded in the middle of a traffic junction. Cars waiting on each side of the intersection honked angrily, some people getting out of their cars to get a better view of the commotion. 

Cuteguy got on his feet, wiping the blood from his cheek, a livid expression taking over his face. 

“I've got this!” Hotguy called, running past. 

Cuteguy glared at him, his nose scrunched up in pure anger. He used his super speed to go after the criminals, his path being constantly blocked by cars and pedestrians slowing him down. He let out an irritated grunt before flying up to get a better view. The shards of glass stuck in his wings bit with razor sharp pain, making him lose some focus on his powers. He pushed through it, using his eagle eyes to spot the car thieves careening around a corner into an alley.

He sped toward them, ignoring the searing pain it took to fly. When he got there… there was nothing. Not a single sign of life in the wretched alley. “Fuck!” He yelled, feeling his anger mix with the pain. He flew back up to the top to get another view, but they were gone.

Hotguy, not far behind, called up to him. “Birdy, you okay up there?”

“They just… disappeared!” He shouted, quickly falling back to the ground beside Hotguy. “They went in here, I was here three seconds later… they were gone!” He paced, flexing his talons in anger.

“I believe you,” Hotguy said patiently, walking down the alley. He couldn't find any sort of side door or window they could've gone through. He searched around for any sort of dropped potion that could have made them invisible, but nothing. “We stopped the car jacking. We can catch them later.”

Cuteguy turned, surprised to see such a calm Hero. “We're supposed to catch them when it happens!” He yelled in response.

“And sometimes it's not possible. Now, let's get the car out of the middle of the road.” Hotguy patted Cuteguy's shoulder before he walked to the intersection, greeting drivers and pedestrians as he passed, promising to fix the issue.

Cuteguy just stared at him for a moment, breathing deep to get used to his lowering heart rate, his wings going limp behind him with pain. How is he so calm? He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep in his irritated chitter, before letting it out when he realized what he looked like right now. Cuteguy was allowed to be an avian. He wiped more blood off his cheek and followed after the Hero, pulling his wings up uncomfortably to keep them from dragging on the ground.

Back to work.

-

Later, after all the mess was cleaned up, the pair got back onto the city rooftops via fire escapes and Hotguy stopped Cuteguy before he could start walking away. “Sit down for a second.”

“Why?” Cuteguy snapped, his aural feathers puffing up in defense. His body ached from fighting and he would do anything to just lay down.

Hotguy's gaze was still perfectly patient and gentle as it had been since Cuteguy had yelled about losing the thieves. “Just sit down. I need to get that glass out of your wings.” He sank to his knees, leaving room in front of him for the other to do the same. 

“Oh, now you notice I got hurt, huh?” He quipped with a sneer, sitting down and crossing his legs. He kept his wings wrapped around himself a little, scared to let someone else touch them. He picked out the pieces that he could see, but most of the damage was in places he couldn't reach. It felt nice to sit down. He didn't realize how sore his entire body was until he finally let it relax a bit.

“How bad is it?” Hotguy asked, ignoring the jab at him. He hesitantly reached out to touch the avian's wings, recoiling when he got hissed at.

Cuteguy covered his mouth in shock. “Sorry, instinct.” He took a deep breath, looking away in embarrassment.

“It's okay. I understand. Just know that whether you let me use the healing potion I have or we go to the healer, someone is going to be touching them,” Hotguy told him with a soft voice. “The healing potion I have does scrapes and small punctures, so it should be good to fix you up.” He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a small metal tin labeled ‘miner healing poshun (creme).’

Cuteguy gave a giggle at the label. “Did you write that?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded with a confused look, “Why?” 

“No reason.” Cuteguy ran his fingers through his wings to try to calm himself down a bit. It was hard to suppress the intense avian instinct of not letting anyone touch his wings. He let out a deep breath and turned back to look at Hotguy in the face. The man looked at him with genuine concern and patience, such a stark contrast to his usual ‘bumbling idiot’ mode Cuteguy had seen him be last night and earlier tonight. “Can we start with these?” He held up his arm and pointed at his cheek. 

Hotguy nodded, opening the tin and putting a small dab of the cream on his finger. He reached out to hold Cuteguy’s arm, but the avian flinched away again. “Am I scaring you?” He asked, putting that hand back in his lap.

“No. I… I want to do it myself.”

“Are you sure? It might be better for me to do this so you get used to it before I move on to your wings.” 

Cuteguy deliberated for a second before huffing and holding out his arm again. Hotguy took his arm gently in his hand, turning it a bit so he could rub the potion lightly on the scrape. Instantly, he saw the bloodied skin start to repair itself, replacing the small scabs that had formed with smooth, unscathed pale skin.

He let go of his arm and gently put a finger under Cuteguy's chin. The avian, already avoiding eye contact, but desperate to guarantee none, closed his eyes with a grimace. It wasn't even an angry look. He'd just never had someone hold his face and he didn't know how to react. Hotguy leaned in a bit and with his other hand, he rubbed the potion over the scrape that had been bleeding down the other's cheek 30 minutes ago. “There's that cute face all healed up.” As soon as he finished his sentence, Cuteguy's aural feathers smacked him in the face, leaving both of them leaning back, giggling.

“You breathed on them! It's an automatic response,” Cuteguy explained through laughs and chirps. He opened his eyes to see a crooked grin on the Hero's face, looking cross-eyed to see the feather caught in his glasses. Cuteguy let out another uproarious laugh, picking the pink feather out of the blue and orange shades.

Straightening his eyes, Hotguy shook his head with a chuckle. “Didn't expect that.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't apologize. Can't control instinct,” Hotguy smiled, shifting his weight to his other knee. “Anything else besides your wings we should heal?” 

Cuteguy pulled down his gloves to check, but took a moment to comment on Hotguy's position. “Why are you on your knees? That can't be comfortable.”

Hotguy immediately adjusted to mirror Cuteguy, sitting crisscrossed. “Didn't think about that.” 

“What?” Cuteguy looked at the Hero with a baffled face.

Hotguy hesitated for a moment, “I can't… feel it.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled sheepishly and knocked on a robotic leg, which made a metallic clanking sound. “These aren't just boots. They make my legs work.” 

“How?”

Hotguy shrugged, “I'm not a redstoner. Don't ask me,” he chuckled. “There's some sort of sensor that takes impulses from my brain up here,” he pointed to his thigh, “since below that, I don't have feeling or much control.” 

Cuteguy nodded, looking curiously at the device. “When did you lose feeling?”

“Long story,” Hotguy said plainly. “Anyway, let's get that glass out of your wings.”

Turning around uncomfortably, Cuteguy noted, “I'll try to keep them still, but sometimes when people touch my wings when I'm uncomfortable, they'll kind of do their own thing.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “And don't mind the noises I make, please. They're not easy to keep in.”

“You don't have to be embarrassed, I don't judge,” Hotguy assured, “I know it's uncomfortable.” He set the tin beside his foot so he'd have easy access and prepared his finger with a bit of the cream. “You ready for me to touch them?”

Cuteguy leaned forward, holding his face in his hands, and relaxed his wings as much as he could. “As ready as I'll ever be.”

Hotguy tenderly placed his hand on Cuteguy's wing, lightly combing through the feathers to dislodge small pieces of glass. When he came across a piece that was more deeply wedged, he stopped for a moment to warn him, “I'm about to pull out a big piece. 3… 2… 1…” He pulled out the bloodied shard and Cuteguy couldn't help but flap his wing a couple times while cheeping in pain. Hotguy quickly followed it up with the healing potion to relieve the ache, comforting the avian, “I know it's bad.”

Why is he so gentle? It's not like I'm a baby. Cuteguy didn't know how to feel about this near stranger being more considerate than many people in his own family and he fought back a hiss to immediately reject the tender treatment. His bird-brain wasn't aware that this was necessary, but his logical mind had to keep sitting and let it happen.

Hotguy continued to comb through his wings, leaving the healing cream to sooth the pain, giving calming words to sooth Cuteguy's discomfort: “You're doing great.” “Take a breath, Birdy.” “Hey, I've got you. We're almost done.” Every word he said was soaked in pure soft-hearted tenderness that both relaxed and concerned Cuteguy. Why am I so relaxed by this guy?! I barely know him! He's an idiot, too! 

Doing one last gentle comb through, Hotguy sighed happily, “It looks all good, Birdy.” 

Cuteguy lifted his wings to feel them to check if he felt anything out of place, accidentally hitting Hotguy in the face again. He scrambled forward, laughing, “Oh, I'm sorry. Horrible way to repay you.”

Hotguy, spitting a feather out of his mouth, dismissed the apology. “No worries.” He returned the attention to Cuteguy. “Does everything feel alright? Did I miss anything?”

Cuteguy flexed his wings again, glad to not feel the stabbing pain anymore. “Yeah, seems like you got it all. Thank you.”

“Any time. I'm glad I could help you. I know the hospital rooms aren't comfortable…” 

Cuteguy looked down to Hotguy's legs, hiding a curious look. He stood and waved goodbye. “Yeah… I appreciate it. I've got to get home. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, cutie,” Hotguy grinned, adding a wink and finger guns.

Chapter Text

His wings were soft , Scar thought, helplessly trying to sleep. Still, all that ran through his mind was Cuteguy's face. His smile. The sound of his voice and his chirps and his wings and his face when he was angry. His laugh! Oh, his laugh. His everything was mesmerizing . He rolled over, met by Jellie's purring form. Scar pulled her in to cuddle closer to him. 

“Jellie, I think I'm in too deep already,” he sighed, petting her head. She snuggled deeper into his arm in response and he smiled. “Just, if you meet him, don't swat him out of the air.” He told her, placing a kiss on her nose.

-

The following morning, Scar woke up to the sound of Jellie scratching at the door. That was odd… usually, he woke up to an alarm, but… he didn’t have work today! He smiled at Jellie, who was meowing and rubbing up against the door. “Give me a second!” He laughed.

He sat up, turned, and grabbed his cane. As he hoisted himself up, he noticed all the sore spots and pains he'd accumulated from the action of the past few days. His legs felt heavy as rocks as he tried to walk the short space to the door. He felt himself tipping over and quickly activated his power, gaining enough control of his leg to move it to catch himself. “Alright, Jellie, looks like it's a wheelchair day.” He stumbled over to the other side of the room and sat himself down in his wheelchair. 

Jellie meowed, following behind Scar's wheelchair as he opened the door and went out into his living room. Jellie continued to meow intently, guiding Scar to her food bowl. “Yes, Jellie, I know! I know!” He laughed, breaking open a new can of catfood. “You'll get your fishy breakfast in just a second.” He scooped the contents into her bowl and smiled when her meowing was replaced by munching. “So impatient.”

His heart sunk a little when he realized what he'd planned to do today. Go to the Hero clinic. It was never a fun trip for him, but Cub was insistent and he finally gave in after neglecting himself for a few too many months.

It was easy to neglect himself when he'd always been caring for others. Teaching his students, being a Hero, being a cat dad. He hardly had time to rest and take care of himself. Of course, that made his disability worse, but he was unwilling to stop. He loved what he did and he wouldn't let his body get in the way of doing what mattered.

He took a deep breath before dialing Cub's number, laying his phone in his lap so he could continue getting ready to go as they spoke.

“Hello?” Cub answered.

“Hey, Cub. Are you still able to drive me today?”

“Yeah, everything's set,” Cub told him. “Let me know if I can help you with anything else.”

“No, no. I'm alright,” he assured. “I should be ready in 20 minutes.”

“See you.”

With that, he hung up and got himself an energy bar before going back to his room and changing into something that would make him look a bit more inconspicuous. When he went to the Hero Commission, he usually wore a facemask just in case. He wasn't a fan of just anyone there being able to see his whole face and wearing the mask would hide most of his identifiable features. 

He wheeled himself outside to see Cub waiting, looking down at his comm in his white coat and thin wireframe glasses. It looked so glaringly obvious to Scar that he was a Commission worker, but he supposed that he had bias because no one else looked at Cub with suspicion.

“Let's get going,” Scar smiled, letting Cub walk beside him as they went to the elevator.

Cub spoke, a small smirk on his face. “Crazy that I didn't have to remind you this time.”

Scar pressed the button to go down and laughed, “Yeah, yeah. I'm taking responsibility. Whatever.” 

“Proud of you, big guy.”

Scar turned quickly, looking up at Cub's smug face. “Shut it!” The elevator opened and they went down to Cub's car.

The drive there was mostly just Scar blabbing about the city's architecture, which was generally amazing. Unfortunately, it was distracted by a select few buildings, including a house that was modeled to be upside down. “It's such an ugly texture, it looks like it's made out of dirt!” He argued to a very ambivalent opponent.

When they approached the building, Scar put his facemask on and breathed deeply to combat his bout of anxiety at seeing the building. He immediately thought of Cuteguy's visit there the other night and how he looked at Hotguy like some sort of… repulsive creature. He'd known that Cuteguy was just uncomfortable, but, if he was honest, it made him feel a bit insecure. People would look at his scars like he was a monster and even though it wasn't a problem anymore, Cuteguy's opinion seemed to immediately matter to him. Geez, Scar thought to himself, great topic to think of right now…

Cub grabbed his wheelchair from the trunk and held it so Scar could get in more easily. “Thank you,” he sighed as he adjusted a bit. Everything in his body felt horrible. The anxiety was so high that he just knew it would make the appointment less useful. He could hardly form a good thought about how he felt about this situation other than, just let me go home, please.

When they entered the Hero Commission office, they were greeted by a tiny room with a small console on the wall. Scar put his thumb there first to let himself in, then Cub. They walked into the larger main room, the front desk the first thing they see. A small atrium was stationed above it, natural night streaming in and hitting their faces. Scar saw the familiar halls lining the area and had to pause to adjust his shaky hands.

“Checking in,” he told the person at the front desk, who pulled out another fingerprint scanner. He found it a bit ridiculous that even Hero names weren't allowed in the waiting room when people were out of uniform. It made sense, but if all of them were Heroes, why would they need to hide from each other? 

“Alright. You're patient number is 7 and you can go wait right over there,” they told him, pointing behind them to a group of seats.

Cub leaned down to give Scar a short hug. “I'm off to work on upgrading your gear. Text me when you get out.” He stood back, waved, and walked away without a second glance.

Scar missed the hug. The clinic made him into a shit show. He wanted someone to guide him like a lost puppy, but he knew he had to just stick it out. Wait. Let the people do their thing. He'll be fine.

“Patient 7?” He jumped, whipping his head around. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as they led him to the vitals room and asked his weight, height, took his blood pressure and heart rate. “Alright, we'll need a quick blood sample.”

His stomach flipped over and he felt nauseous. “Okay…” he said, knowing he didn't have much of a choice. 

His whole body stiffened as a phlebotomist came over and started sanitizing his arm. She looked up to see that his eyes were screwed shut and spoke, “Hotguy, you've got this.” Her tone was clearly trying to make it sound like a joke, and sure, it was funny, but when his eyes opened, he looked more fearful than he had wirh his eyes closed. She smiled kindly. “You know, I saw you on the news with Cuteguy,” she said, preparing the needle out of his sight. “You're a cute pair, I think.”

Scar became a bit perplexed. The news? Since when had there been any coverage on Cuteguy? And why did people already know his name?! “Since when-”

The needle went into his vein fairly quickly and she only took a moment to adjust everything to let the blood drain into the vials. “He was on the news last night. They were talking about how he's a mystery, but I know him, obviously,” she answered the question he didn't get to finish.

He controlled his breathing extra intently, feeling his stomach tie itself into knots at the pain and sight he knew was behind the doctor's arm. All the horrible hormones being released into his body were accompanied by pure embarrassment as he flapped his other hand to try to release some of the bad feelings.

“You're doing perfectly fine,” she told him, taking the second vial and turning the stopper to block the flow. She removed the needle painlessly and covered it with a cotton ball. “Truly, you did it. That's all that matters.” She put a bandaid over the ball and escorted him to a room. “Doctor will be in soon.”

He felt his chest loosen a bit at the door closed. You're doing it, Scar. Just breathe. He took in a deep breath and let his shoulders relax, feeling the tensions all over his body more carefully. After relaxing more of his body, making sure his arms weren't flexed and his jaw wasn't clenched, he became aware of what the phlebotomist had said. He and Cuteguy had been seen together and were broadcast all over the news.

He wondered what people were saying about them. Was Cuteguy seen at the same level as Hotguy? Was he being ridiculed? What was the Commission planning? This was far too much to think about before noon.

He looked around to see the ever familiar white, sterile room that was standard in all clinics he'd been to. He remembered looking at Cuteguy in the hospital bed, the blood pooling on the white sheet beside him. Gods. He needed to stop thinking about Cuteguy and focus on the situation at hand.

The door opened with a loud click and Scar jumped as the doctor came in. “Hello, how have you been?”

Scar looked a bit perplexed- she was straight to the very unclear point. “Um… medically or mentally?”

She smiled, as if he'd made a clever joke. “Tell me about both.”

“Well,” he said as he decided where to start. “I've been good. I'm doing great in my day job, besides the occasional unplanned nap. When I get home is the real problem,” he thinks of his utter exhaustion when he gets home. Laying there as long as he can before he has to do anything else. “I don't have much time other than the few hours between work and Hero duties to relax or socialize or do other things. I've been falling asleep during that time.”

“Yes, the time commitment is very daunting and can be a big problem,” she affirmed, writing a note down.

He glanced nervously at her notepad and swallowed. “My coordination is pretty bad without my robotic legs. The feeling has been leaving a bit over my knees,” he touched his calf and frowned as he felt nothing. “I can barely use my cane. I used to be able to do it most of the time before my knees gave out.” 

The doctor looked at him with concern. “Can you describe the symptoms you've had recently?”

Scar took a moment to search for the words he needed. “I… don't know how to control my knees anymore. It's really frustrating and my feeling is completely gone there. It's getting harder to like… I dunno, sense everything?” He felt a knot tighten in his chest, thinking he was too bad at describing the problem for it to actually be useful information.

She looked appraisingly at his chart. “So… the effects of void exposure are not very well known. You had a very unique experience, so I don't know exactly what the cause is… but… hm…” She looked back up to Scar and he felt a wave of nausea surge through him. “Can I take a look at your legs to make sure everything is alright?”

“Yes, of course,” he nodded, and brought the loose legs of his sweatpants up to his thighs. 

His legs below his knees were grey and lifeless, as if blood didn't reach them. The grey darkened down his legs, eventually getting near black as it disappeared under his socks. The doctor placed a hand on his calf, and lifted it and all that Scar could feel was the change in weight being carried by his thighs. It was so odd for him to see that she was touching a part of his body, but he couldn't feel it. He tried to keep his breathing calm, but damn he didn't like to think about this, much less look at it. She placed two fingers behind his knee and closed her eyes for a couple moments before opening them and saying, “you have a pulse even where there's greyed skin.” 

He nodded, unsure what to say.

She grabbed a thermometer and scanned his calf before going up and scanning his head. “Your legs are around 5 degrees below normal, but it's not unsafe…” She looked at the border between the healthy and grey skin colors. It was a slightly red, jagged line a couple inches above his knees and looked incredibly painful. “Does it hurt?” She asked.

“My thighs are constantly sore and bruised, because of the robotic legs,” he explained, “not sure if this makes it worse.”

Her face said it all before she opened her mouth to speak. She stood from her chair and went to her desk to examine his chart one last time. She looked over it with fervor he hadn't seen from a doctor before. When she seemed defeated, she looked back to Scar, a Hero to his core, and said, “You really shouldn't be Hotguy anymore.”

Scar took in everything a bit too quickly and the weight of the statement was instantly crushing him. He felt tears coming to his eyes instantly and he felt like all his fears were confirmed. “I won't stop being a Hero. I can't.”

“The cases of void exposure that we have indicate that stress, especially physical stress to the areas affected, will cause more problems,” she patiently explained, “You are risking your long term health everyday that you're fighting as Hotguy. It's simply unsafe.”

A knock sounded at the door. The doctor apologized and answered the door, being given a few pieces of paper. She went back to her computer and looked between the paper and screen. All the while, Scar felt his insides lurch at the thought of more bad news. Everything felt useless already. Why was there more?

The doctor turned to look at Scar's pathetic face. “The blood test results are indicative of this being a problem, too…” She said, looking down with pity. “Your nutrient levels have gone down 3% across the board. This isn't natural, and likely caused by the void leaching from your body.”

***

Fear, rage, disappointment, and disbelief snaked its way through Scar's body limb by limb until he felt himself steaming and needing for release. “I'm leaving.” He stated simply, his voice shaking.

“Um… I can't advise that-” 

He wheeled toward the door and let himself out. “I am leaving.” 

Blindly, without any awareness of what was going on around him, he sped away, looking for somewhere, anywhere, he could just relax for a second. His heart was beating out of his chest. He couldn't slow his breathing. The world was moving in and out of focus and he was deaf to anything except the beating of his heart and the gasps of air he took in; still, everything was too loud.  

His eyes darted back and forth seeing people following him and noticing his state. I need to get out. Please just let me out! His chest heaved and he couldn't stop his shaking. He couldn't control his wheels as well and he watched as 4 people surrounded him and… maybe he blacked out… maybe it was just gone from his memory, but… now, his hands were cold. Very, very cold. His eyes were heavy. His breath was slowing down and his heart didn't drum so loud. He heard a couple voices speaking very quietly… or far away.

He opened his eyes with an effort and saw ice packs in his hands. He placed them down on the floor beside him. The scenery had changed. He was in Cub's workroom. Cub and the doctor were speaking to each other across the room. Do they think I'm a child? The bad feelings hadn't fully gone away and he couldn't look at this situation in any other way than… he's a burden. 

He hadn't had a panic attack in public in a long time. He didn't tell anyone he had them. Now, here he was, being treated like a child while he sat off to the side with no agency.

###

Cub took a glance over to Scar and immediately started toward him when he saw his open eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked, kneeling beside him. His face was twisted in worry and Scar began to feel guilty for his sour feelings.

“I'm uh-” he searched for words that didn't sound too pathetic. “I'm not dead.”

“Well, yeah!” Cub laughed, reaching a hand to Scar's shoulder. “I just need to make sure you're past the worst of it.” He rubbed his hand on Scar's hair to messy it, something that came as a brotherly kind of comfort between them. “I'll take you home in just a second.”

Scar nodded. “Yeah…” He looked over to the doctor looking at them and Cub turned, too.

“I was talking to her about your robotic legs. Nothing about your appointment, don't worry.” Cub said, standing back up. “Do you want her to share about the appointment?”

Scar looked up, a worried grimace on his face. “Um…” He looked between the two. “No.”

“Okay,” Cub nodded. He turned to the doctor and shook her hand, “Nice to meet you. See you some other time.”

Scar tried to push on his wheels, finding that one, they were locked, and two, his hands were trembling so much that he couldn't even unlock the brakes. By the time he made this discovery, the doctor had already left the room and Cub was back to standing in front of him.

“So… I've got a couple more things to upgrade on your legs. Do you want me to do that later or can we stay a bit longer?”

He's being too considerate. I'm a baby for being like this. “You just do what you need to do. I'm alright.”

“Okay… shouldn't take too long.” He reached into his pocket and handed Scar a protein bar. “Get a snack in.”

-

Thoughts of the panic attack and events proceeding and preceding were on his mind the rest of the day, bleeding into the night. There he was, in his Hotguy uniform, something the doctor told him he shouldn't do. She couldn't forbid him from this. The Commission would let him keep going until he quit or died. He wouldn't stop until he physically couldn't fight anymore.

Tonight felt particularly cold. Maybe it was the fact that Tek had just left him without a heat source when he walked away or it was the thoughts raging an endless storm in his mind. Maybe I really should just quit. I'm weak. He felt incredibly irrational to listen to any perspective he gave himself. He hated listening to the stupid voice he'd been supplied with. He felt completely incapable of everything at this point, even regulating his damn body temperature! He shivered and rubbed his arms, hating the feeling because of how Cub had rubbed his shoulder like he was a dumb kid.

“Heyo, hottie!” Cuteguy sung out beside him, a clanking sound ringing out as he landed on the railing next to him.

Hotguy jumped, his face betraying his true feelings before he fixed it with a smile. “Hello there, cutie.” He held his hand out to help Cuteguy down and was quickly denied as the avian simply jumped down onto his heeled boots by himself.

“Sounds weird when you say it,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Hotguy played into the joke, slowly reaching a hand to the rail behind Cuteguy, essentially pinning him there, and whispered in his ear, “Oh does it now?”

In a flurry of feathers, Hotguy felt an aural wing collide with his visor and a much bigger wing push him backward. He choked out a laugh, spluttering to remove a feather from his mouth. 

Cuteguy crossed his arms with a sly grin. “We're not getting photos taken of us that close again.”

“Photos?” Hotguy asked, correcting his posture and flicking a black feather to the ground.

Cuteguy narrowed his eyes, trying to determine whether the man was playing dumb or not. “Yeah…” Hotguy looked back, looking equally as confused. “The photos that have been all over the internet at this point!”

Hotguy shrugged, “I don't go on the internet.”

With an exasperated sigh, Cuteguy continued, “Well, I'm sure you checked your comm and know we need to go get photos taken at Hero Tower.”

“Almost forgot,” he said honestly.

Cuteguy- no, Grian - wondered why this man was safe to touch his wings when his conscious mind couldn't stand how he seemed to be stupid about pretty much everything. “Well, I asked you to meet me there thirty minutes ago, so that makes sense.” He pursed his lips to hide a grimace.

Hotguy's smile faded. “Sorry,” he said, failing to hide his audible shame.

How is it that any time I think about how stupid he is, he does something to make me feel bad about it? 

“It's okay,” his tone softened and he looked back at that stupid thick headed softie behind him. “Just check your damn comm.”

Together, they went a couple blocks to the Hero Tower to take pictures. 

“They're publicly introducing me as a Hero,” Cuteguy explained, straightening his gear as they approached the entrance. “My name and my costume and all that. You're my partner, so you have to be in the photos, too. I already took my solos, so it shouldn't be forever for us to do the duo photos.” 

“Oh, that's why you look extra cute today,” Hotguy winked with a smile.

Cuteguy felt a blush coming to his face and suppressed it with a comeback, “It's a shame you don't look too hot today.”

Hotguy dropped his jaw in an audible gasp, “How dare you, Birdy?” He leaned down to whisper again in his ear, “I made sure to look extra sharp for you.” He quickly backed up, failing to avoid another flick to the face. 

He leaned to the side with a laugh, unaware of how public this street was and even more unaware of the redness on Cuteguy's face about that fact. The avian pulled Hotguy by the arm into the Hero Tower. 

They made their way to the elevator, stares coming from all directions. Hotguy scanned his fingerprint to let them in and didn't speak until the door closed. “Can't let people know you talk to the biggest and best superhero ever, huh?” 

Cuteguy turned with an amused face, “That's what you think you are?”

“Well, everyone says it, so it must be true,” Hotguy smirked, winking overdramatically as he leaned against the wall.

Cuteguy approached Hotguy with a couple short strides, letting his wings fall a little to counteract the weight as he stood on his tippy toes to be nearly nose-to-nose with the Hero. Cross-eyed and red cheeked, Hotguy melted a bit against the wall as Cuteguy whispered, “You're not the only one who can paralyze people with a few words.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Gem looked curiously at the pair. “Man, I just signed up to take pictures, not deal with this.” She said flatly as the two quickly separated.

“I'm sorry, Gem, I was trying to make a point,” Cuteguy laughed sheepishly, his aural feathers sticking to the sides of his face in embarrassment.

Hotguy couldn't help but continue ogling at the avian, enamored. 

“Alright, googly eyes, come on,” she ordered them out of the elevator and led them to the hair and makeup section. She appraised the two with a quick up and down before turning to a stylist and saying, “Get Hotguy hair and makeup, then fix up Cuteguy's hair a little bit.” 

Hotguy sat down to let them fix up his face, which admittedly must be a bit more red than usual at the moment and watched as Cuteguy was seated beside him. He couldn't help but gaze at his partner who closed his eyes and plugged his nose against the hairspray. He was just so damn adorable!

“Close your eyes,” the makeup artist told him, holding an eyeshadow brush up.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he stuttered as he closed his eyes.

After a healthy dose of highlighter and hairspray, he was cleared to get his photos taken and was greeted by a seemingly cuter Cuteguy, blinking his clearly irritated eyes. He seemed to either have amazing mascara on or false eyelashes. His eyeliner was winged with drawn on eyelashes on the lower lash line. His lids and cheeks were highlighted with pink glitter which was falling as he prodded gently at his eye. 

“There's something in my eye,” he complained, leaning forward and trying to blink the tears out without messing up his whole face. 

Hotguy kneeled down and looked up at the struggling new Hero. “Cutie pie, let me get it for you.” He reached up and dislodged a stray eyelash from its home in the corner of his eye and held it up for Cuteguy to see. “Make a wish!” 

Cuteguy snickered at him. “Wish you'd stop being so weird.”

“Hey!” Hotguy stood to defend himself. “I-”

“Get on set!” Gem's exasperated voice rang out.

They obeyed. The photoshoot was exactly what Hotguy had expected. The usual, sit there and look Hot . Easy! The only problem was that he had a guy next to him looking so extra Cute , it was hard not to look. At some point, Gem started to lean into it. “Hotguy, quick! There's a Cuteguy to your right!” This joking around resulted in genuine smiles and poses between the two. One that really hit the mark was Hotguy with a dopey grin on his face while Cuteguy, facing away, smirked with a mischievous glare. 

“Gorgeous, you two,” Gem smiled. “With these pictures, people would think you've known each other for years.” She flicked through her countless photos of the pair, each containing Hotguy's adorable toothy grin. “One last set, but both of you look extra serious. Both of you draw an arrow and look directly at the camera.”

They followed her instruction and… Scar couldn't help but steal another glance at Cuteguy, his face still steely and serious, but a vulnerability bled through his stare. The resulting photo made Gem beam with excitement. “Ooo we've got it!” She turned it around to show the two Heroes. 

Scar blushed. Hotguy nodded excitedly. “It looks amazing! You're a miracle worker, Gem.”

“I mean, I'm only the photographer for the most attractive Heroes ever, I'm no saint,” she giggled.

“Oh, I must be the hottest person you've photographed, then,” Hotguy said, slyly trying to distract from his red cheeks he got by seeing just how obsessed he looked.

Gem let out another, heartier laugh. “No, that's Tek!”

Hotguy let out a feigned gasp. “You should get your eyes checked!” 

Cuteguy shook his head with amusement. “Well, we do actually have a real mission tonight,” he said, pulling up his comm. “As soon as we're clear to leave, I can fly us there.”

“Oh,” Hotguy turned, fear in his voice, “We have to fly?”

“If we want to get there in a reasonable time, yeah.” He watched Hotguy's face distort in deep thought. “No, we can't drive there. Specific instructions.”

“Fine…”

“You boys go,” Gem said. “Just be ready to see your faces everywhere tomorrow.” 

With that, they headed to the roof and Cuteguy went over the mission plan with Hotguy. “We've been told this is just an investigation. Now, they say that this place is potentially connected to a major crime ring.” Cuteguy handed Hotguy his quiver. “You need to wear it so you can hop on my back when we fly over,” he explained. “Anyway, by the looks of it, this could be a really serious case. Do not blow my cover.”

“Gotcha,” Hotguy nodded, a determined look on his face, which quickly turned to fear when Cuteguy turned around and spread his wings out. 

“Hop on, loser.”

Sure, he'd been carried by Cuteguy and sure, he'd touched his wings, but wow seeing his powerful wings in front of him, undamaged and ready to send both of them into the air… Hotguy felt he'd swoon. Probably from anxiety though. He stepped forward and latched his arms around Cuteguy's chest, feeling the down feathers tickle his stomach a little. Cuteguy smelt nice. It was almost like a kitten smell, a warm, slightly musky scent that made you relax. 

The relaxation was short lived as Cuteguy launched them into the air, scaling a hundred feet in a few seconds, making the wind whistle in Hotguy's ears as he let out a shriek of surprise. “You should warn me, darn it!” He said, his death grip on the avians chest reminding him of his horrible panic attack earlier today. 

“I did!” Cuteguy giggled. He did not. 

Hotguy huffed and sunk into the crook of Cuteguy's neck, letting him get them where they needed to go without interference. “Just get us there…”

After a little while of silence, Hotguy noticed that they definitely weren't using superspeed. The skies sounded too quiet to be doing that. “You're going normal speed?”

“Yeah,” Cuteguy told him. 

Hotguy loosened his grip a little bit. “Why?” 

Cuteguy's voice changed so much, it was audible that he was smiling. “Look for yourself.” He suggested. 

Scar gently opened his eyes, seeing the world beneath him. Gee… the lights twinkling, the world moving so slowly from this altitude, and the gorgeous aural wing covering half his vision. “It's gorgeous, right?” His voice was so gentle. 

Scar's mouth curved into a small smile. “Yeah… yeah, it is.” Hotguy responded.

And without sparing a moment to sit in the good, warm feeling, Cuteguy flapped his wings and activated his super speed. 

“AAAAAAAAAA!”

“Hanging in there, Hottie?” Cuteguy laughed, spinning upside down. 

Hotguy's hands scrambled to find more solid area to cling onto, a panicked gasp escaping his mouth. “YOU'RE INSANE!” He screamed as he hooked his legs around Cuteguy's body. Cuteguy continued laughing maniacally, spinning around and around before it all stopped.

The whole world stuttered, air seemingly stagnant, the sounds alternating in volume quickly. Now, they were right side up again and flying at normal speed. 

Hotguy's hands shook, his heart having missed a beat. “You- you need to warn me! It's- this is not normal!” He spluttered out, his voice temporarily shot from screaming. 

Cuteguy lowered them slowly. “Quiet, now,” he told Hotguy, listening for the scoff returned to him. He snickered as he landed in a field, the grass reaching up to their waists. “You're back on the ground, Oldguy.”

“You-” Hotguy covered his mouth and lowered his tone. “You sick freak… you know I'm scared of flying and you-”

“So you admit it?” Cuteguy asked with a mischievous grin.

Hotguy blinked a few times, trying to process what he'd heard. “Huh?”

“You're afraid of flying,” Cuteguy smirked with satisfaction as the other Hero's face fell into an exasperated expression.

“Yeah! Duh!” He yelled.

Cuteguy raised a finger and placed it over Hotguy's lips, raising a blush in his cheeks. “This is a secret mission, I'll remind you,” He said lowly.

“You're driving me crazy,” Hotguy whispered with defeat, taking a step back and covering his flushed face, which was not even visible in the dim light of the stars and moon.

Cuteguy flicked a wing in the other man's direction, “You've been driving me crazy since day one.” He walked off, leaving Hotguy to follow behind him absent-mindedly.

“So you said the place we're investigating is possibly connected to a crime ring?” He asked, looking around, seeing nothing but hills and grass and a road. “Might you tell me what this place is?”

“Hermitopia outskirts storm drain system,” Cuteguy stated.

“Uhhh…” he looked around curiously for said storm drain, spotting one not too far off the road. It was protruding out of a clearly man-made ditch. The concrete was falling apart on the corners, and there was a large puddle at the entrance that had all sorts of algae and weeds growing in it. “Not all that appealing, but okay.” 

They scaled down the side of the ditch, reached the side of the water-filled bottom and leaped over it to get onto the mostly dry concrete inside of the storm drain. Hotguy's robotic feet made a light clanking sound as he landed, and the sound echoed off the walls of the tunnel indefinitely. 

“Major creeps…” he whispered, looking to Cuteguy, whose face shared a similar sentiment as he brought his wings in a bit. 

The drain was pitch black when they looked down it, eating up the little light the sky provided them. They both turned to their comms and turned on the flashlight. “We were told to investigate, but leave everything as is.” He whispered, letting his wrist fall by his side, leaving the light from his comm to shine unevenly across the tunnel walls.

They tentatively stepped forward, Hotguy keeping his flashlight pointed in front of them. Shallow puddles and random items were strewn across the ground. Children's toys, pillows, plastic bags, and broken glass. All washed away or placed here when teenagers visited without care for where anything would go. Though, the deeper they went, the more graffiti littered the walls. At first, it was common tags, nearly unreadable messages, and overused symbols. But when they could no longer see the end they came in from, the art got weird. 

Cuteguy scanned his flashlight over one: a giant purple eye, geometric in shape, covering the entire wall. On the ceiling there were more eyes. On the ground, there was a giant rectangle with two of the corners disconnected from the rest of the even lines. The spray paint looked oddly fresh, but there was no smell. In the corner of their eyes, they swore they could see the paint dripping down the walls or from the ceiling.

“This isn't feeling right…” Hotguy whispered, but even the lightest sound was too loud for the space. 

The silence continued. The only sound was their footfalls as they proceeded deeper, the eye paintings starting to look older and more worn. The ground beneath them turned from solid, whole sections into giant cracked sections taken over by a purple mossy substance. Glowberries were sprouting from the ceiling, bathing the next 30 yards in a hazy, sleepy glow. In that light, there were odd forms across the ground, gathered in clusters.

When Hotguy shone his flashlight on it, there seemed to be movement beneath the forms… the mushrooms. Their caps were brown and red, some so big they nearly hit the ceiling, while many others spread out far and wide. The movement wasn't present when Hotguy looked directly at an area, but he could swear it was there in his periphery.

Cuteguy's eyes seemed to be playing the same trick on him. He traced his eyes back and forth over the area, taking a tentative step forward onto the purple moss. “This looks like…” he knelt down to look a bit better. “Mycelium.” He felt a strange queasy feeling enter his body as he stood back up. He looked to Hotguy, who seemingly felt the same with a hand on his stomach and his face looking very discomfited.

“This place is seriously messed up.”

A shadow flicked across the edge of their visions and they both snapped their heads in that direction. A dripping sound filled the empty space, their eyes darting around to track the shifts in the corners of their eyes. 

“There's something here…” Cuteguy whispered, stepping slowly backward to Hotguy's side, his wings puffed in defense. Taking his final step away from the mycelium, he felt a light tug on his foot, as if the wiry fungus tendrils had wrapped themselves around his shoe. “We're leaving.” The small drips of water started to sound louder and louder as they turned their backs to the space.

The tunnel echoed eerily as they walked away, their footsteps distorting into voices. The graffiti began to glow. Their pace quickened. Whispering voices surrounded them, unnatural key and pitch, and their flashlights began to flicker, leaving the only visual stimulus to be the glowing purple paint ominously watching them from all sides. Hotguy grabbed onto Cuteguy's hand, beginning to run down the wretched storm drain.

When they saw the light at the end, everything stopped. Nothing was glowing. Their flashlights functioned. The voices stopped. Running a few more paces to feel safe, they eventually stopped 10 or so yards from the entrance, enough for them to get a bit of the moonlight.

***

Hotguy released Cuteguy’s hand and backed himself against a wall, panting and holding his stomach in pain with his eyes closed. “Whatever that was… made me feel sick.” 

Cuteguy, without a second thought, found himself in front of the Hero, bringing his wings around to shelter them as he scanned the man for any injuries. He reached a hand out to check his pulse, and Hotguy jumped at the touch on his neck.

“Oh!” He startled. His face quickly turned into an attempted reassuring grin. Inside, really, he felt the same feeling that came over him earlier today. The feelings all melding together and snaking their way down his limbs. His vision blurred and any attempt at a fake smile faded. He began to sink to the floor, his back sliding roughly against the uneven wall. “I…” He tried to regulate his breathing, but it was getting out of control. “I'm so sorry.” He hid his face in his hands as he felt sobs wrack through his body. I'm so fucking stupid. I can't keep it together. The sick feeling in his stomach bore into him like a knife, a blade wet with guilt and shame.

Cuteguy knelt down beside the huddled Hero, his wings remaining there to cover them both. He placed a protective hand on the man's head, lacing a couple fingers through his thin hair, and looked down the tunnel again to scan for threats. Behind him, a small and sharp noise caught his attention. He shot his head around and hissed in defense, bringing his body and wings closer around his partner as his wings puffed up. Standing there was a frog, its feet placed delicately in front of its chubby abdomen. Grian chirped out a small laugh, loosening his tight fortification. 

He pet Hotguy's hair tenderly, the knot in his chest subsiding slightly. “We're okay. You're safe,” he spoke quietly, leaning over to try to catch a glimpse between the man's tightly cupped hands glued to his face. He reached to remove a hand, gently grasping it in his own. “Breathe. In… out…” 

###

Slowly but surely, Hotguy's breathing slowed, and his hands relaxed, eventually making their way back to his sides. He lightly fidgeted with the seams on his outfit to ground himself again.

As soon as Cuteguy understood that his partner was okay, he took a step back and returned his wings behind himself. 

Scar, curled against the wall, the likeness of some wounded animal, looked at Cuteguy like a deer in the headlights. “I'm… I'm so sorry…” he nearly whimpered. “I… um…”

“No need to explain. We need to leave.” He stood and held out a hand.

He took it. They leaped back over the tiny pond and Cuteguy led them a couple dozen paces away from sight of the road and grabbed Hotguy's arm, making him look into his eyes. “I'm not surprising you this time. Just tell me where you want me to take you and you'll be there. No super speed. I'll make sure it's a smooth, quiet ride.”

Hotguy nodded, struggling to keep his eyes focused. “Rancher's Hotel.” Where we always meet.  

“Okay.” He released his grip and turned to let Hotguy climb onto his back. 

They flew slowly and silently. The wind was gentle and cooling against Scar's feverish skin. Again, he got to smell the comforting scent of Cuteguy's hair and wings and it calmed him down a bit. After all the events of the day, perhaps he was content with this ending the chaos. Unbelievably soft down feathers touching his stomach and equally soft hair tickling his ear as he melted into Cuteguy's neck, eyes closed and bleary.

“We're going to land in just a second,” Cuteguy told him, slowly descending. Hotguy nodded against the avian's shoulder. With a couple flaps to cushion the landing, Hotguy's feet touched the ground first, then Cuteguy's. “You're all good.”

Hotguy released his grip and stepped back, blinking his heavy eyes open again. “Thank you, birdy.”

Cuteguy turned around to face his partner and shook his head. “Don't thank me. Now get home and get some rest.” He eyed the Hero, a conflicted feeling arising in his chest. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Hotguy couldn't force himself to look up and make eye contact, instead his eyes darted around before being set on the gritty roof tiles. He nodded slowly. “See you tomorrow.” He stood silently as he watched Cuteguy walk away and launch himself off the edge of the building and into the night sky. 

He sees right through me, he thought. 

He turned and started his slow walk home.

Chapter Text

Tango peeked his head around the corner into Grian's room, and earned a startled noise- unadmittedly a chirp- from the professor.

“Hey!” Grian laughed, gathering the last of his things into a neat pile on his desk. “Didn't need to be all creepy.”

Tango flashed a toothy smile, “Well, it's what I do best!” He hooked an arm around Grian's- ignoring the surprised and confused chitter- and dragged him toward Jimmy's office. “Jimmy has been talking non-stop about wanting a lunch date with his cousin, so I'm dragging you to him.”

“Well, let me at least tell Scar!” Grian protested, digging his heels in. When Tango stopped and unhooked their arms, Grian quickly started toward Scar's lecture hall. Tango giggled behind him and Grian turned, motioning for Tango to follow him. “Why are you laughing?”

Tango smiled mischievously, “oh, nothin’.” He walked beside Grian at a normal pace and it seemed Grian was surpassing him, “Just a bit curious why you're speed walking to Scar,” he lengthened the a on Scar to sound like ‘ Scaaaaar’ , sounding gushy.

“Are you implying what I think you are?” Grian asked with a dejected voice, his chest beating faster as he approached Scar's hall.

“Maybe…” The smile in Tango's voice was simultaneously endearing and infuriating.

Grian stopped outside Scar's door and turned to Tango with a slightly flushed yet serious face. “I'm only telling you this because you're married to Timmy-”

“Right I am!” He looked down at his ring with a smile.

“I've been… well, yeah I've had feelings-”

Scar's door opened suddenly and Grian nearly jumped out of his skin when he fell back onto the floor. Scar giggled, “Am I that scary?” He looked down at the fallen man and covered his cheeky smile with his hand.

Grian covered his chest and felt heat rising to his cheeks as Tango laughed maniacally at the situation. “Yes, you're that scary!” Grian exclaimed, gathering himself and standing again. 

Scar rolled his eyes. “You're a scaredy cat,” he teased, turning to close the door. He fumbled with the keys.

Grian looked back at Tango who was eying him with his poorly hidden grin. “I'm not as bad as Jellie.” 

“Jellie is much braver than you!” Scar rebutted, finally getting the key in the lock. Tango's mouth opened in a silent laugh and Grian swatted his hand at the man's sleeve. 

“Well, we're going to be going to Jimmy's office,” Grian said, changing the subject somewhat abruptly.

Scar nodded. “I know! Tango told me already to meet you two there. Didn't know I was being picked up,” he giggled. 

“Oh…” Tango knew I'd go after Scar? “Well, let's be on our way then.” Grian walked slightly in front of the other two and felt the heat rise into his face. Am I really that obvious?

Scar was bubbly while chatting with Tango. They weren't often able to see each other during work hours due to alternating classes and days off, so they were ecstatic. Grian definitely heard them, but he was far from listening.

He was about to hang out with his cousin and his husband who were very sappy all while Scar was in the room. The romantic tension would be palpable .

He swallowed nervously before turning the last corner and knocking on the academic coordinator's door. 

“Come in!” Jimmy called. Grian opened the door and Jimmy's face lit up instantly. He launched himself out of his seat and sped around his desk to catch his cousin in a hug. “Tango, you brought the rascal!”

“I sure did, lovey.” When Jimmy let go of Grian, he instantly enveloped Tango in a hug and nestled into his shoulder while the shorter one planted kisses on his head. “Scar's here, too.”

Grian and Scar eyed each other awkwardly, a smile crossing both of their lips in uncomfortable amusement.

After about 10 more seconds of Jimmy leaning into Tango like a pillow, he pulled away to say hi to Scar and give him a hug, too. 

“Visit me in my lonely little cave more often!” Jimmy laughed, letting all three of them settle into his office as he closed the door.

“I would if it wasn't 3 buildings away!” Grian told him, slinging his bag into his lap. He pulled out his and Scar's lunch. 

“Oh my gosh,” Scar beamed, rolling closer to Grian to pick up his tupperware. “You made it again!”

“I know you love it,” he smiled, handing scar a fork and the food. He'd heated it before he left and he hoped it was still good.

Scar nodded enthusiastically, ripping the lid off the box. “I love you!” 

Grian spluttered, his heart having skipped a beat. Behind Scar, Grian could see Tango and Jimmy having the time of their lives trying to hold back laughs and grins.

“You're cooking is magnificent!” Scar declared, taking a bite of pasta.

Scar was one to easily hand out free praise like that… Grian was not one to easily receive free praise and love from others. He smiled awkwardly and laughed, “Thank you.”

Tango sat beside Jimmy in a chair that seemed to be positioned there just for him. He must have decided it was time to publicly humiliate Grian because he said, “Jimmy was asking me the other day if you two were a thing.” He had an evil grin on his face as Grian felt his face heating up and probably turning the shade of a pink highlighter. 

Scar chuckled, “You know, another friend of mine thought the same thing.” He shook his head and placed his food on Jimmy's desk so he could turn to look at the two husbands directly. “What is it that makes us seem like we're dating?”

Jimmy shrugged, turning to look at Tango, “They spend so much time together.” He turned back to Scar, “I mean, you eat lunch together every day and sometimes Grian texts me-”

“Timmy, shut up!” Grian said, springing to his feet to cover his cousin's mouth.

Scar raised his eyebrows in amusement. “What are you texting Jimmy about?”

Grian stutters over his words as Jimmy and Tango burst out laughing, leaning on each other for support. “I just tell him about what we ate and if we go out- I mean out to eat, not as a date, it's not like I'm telling him anything weird, he's just trying to make it weird! I- I- he asks me how my day is, it's not like I'm just telling him this unprompted . He's making it sound like I'm obsessed with you or something-”

“Oh, I tell Jellie about what we ate and talked about every day when I get home!” Scar smiled, clearly just interrupting Grian to put him out of his misery.

Grian paused. His mouth was open slightly and his voice went very high pitched, “You… do?”

“I mean,” Scar thought for a second and looked away, “Yeah. When I’m not deathly tired.”

Grian looked up as he leaned against Jimmy’s desk, thinking. He looked back down, “You’re always deathly tired…”

“Well,” Scar pursed his lips uncomfortably, “I suppose I don’t talk to Jellie about you very often,” he admitted with a small laugh. “But you see her when you come over! She loves you!”

Grian looked back to Tango and Jimmy with a very unimpressed face. They were looking on with cheeky smiles. “Tango, you should get back to the hotel. Your break must be over by now.” 

“I can stay here as long as I want!” He retorted, crossing a leg over the other. “Benefit of being the owner.” 

They all stared at each other for a long moment. Scar had gone back to eating fairly quickly, but Grian was far too irritated by the two that had just embarrassed him to high hell.

“Grian, I didn’t do anything,” Jimmy argued as he leaned back in his seat with a smug smile poorly hidden on his face.

He nearly turned to strangle the man, but instead sighed heavily and walked toward the door. “I need the loo.” He walked out.

-

Hotguy sat on the edge of the Rancher's Hotel roof, waiting for Cuteguy to show up. Recalling the previous night, he wasn't sure he was ready to see him. Embarrassment mixed with sweet, warm and fuzzy enamor. I can't believe he saw me like that… and he treated me well. He caught a glimpse of the University's buildings down the street and smiled slightly to himself.

“Commission's got it out for us,” Cuteguy said, startling Hotguy, who swung around to see the man. 

“Geez, when did you get there?” He saw through almost every mask I've put up and he doesn't even know it . He stood up and made his way to Cuteguy's side, looking at the screen of his comm.

Commission notification:

Report received. Continue investigation after visiting Hero Tower and receiving vehicle, potions, and equipment by request. Continue frequent reports.

…

“What do you mean?”

Cuteguy sighed. “I straight up told them that there was someone or something supernatural in there.” He dropped his wrist to his side, and started pacing. “I'm not going back in there.”

“We'll just do a stake out,” Hotguy said, looking through his own comm to find more details in the message. “Yeah, that's why they're providing the vehicle. That's usually why they do it.” 

“Even so, we might need to go in there to capture someone.”

“Doubtful. Stake outs are for pure information. No need to run after anyone… at least most of the time.” 

“You keep saying stake out like you're excited for it. Why are you excited to sit in a car for hours on end?” 

“Any place with you is a place I want to be,” Hotguy smiled, holding his hand out in an unspoken offer.

Cuteguy snorted and looked down at the outstretched hand with an amused smirk, “Uh-huh.”

Below them, sounds rang out. Crashing and screaming and… a fake police siren?

They looked over the parapet to see a man in what appeared to be a Woody costume. The partners eyed each other with equal confusion before looking back down at the man with leather chaps and a Sheriff star on his vest, with a whip at his side.

Tek ran in behind them, “What’s going on?” He was out of breath, which shocked Hotguy. Tek was never like this. His hair was flickering in time with his heaving breaths.

“Seems like a new Villain?” Cuteguy said, pointing at the entirely unintimidating man below them, who was swinging around his whip without much obvious skill or experience. Traffic had stopped around him and pedestrians looked curiously at the scene, afraid to come any closer as the fake siren wailed from a small speaker placed on the ground beside the supposed Villain.

Tek looked over the edge and whispered a profanity to himself. “Not new. He’s been prowling around a while.” He quickly adjusted the controls on his boots and perched on the ledge. “He’s dangerous,” his eyes were wide in a way that showed he really didn’t mean it. “I’ll handle him.”

He jumped from the roof and let his aerojet boots soften his fall. He ran toward the Villain with a performative sort of haste that Hotguy narrowed his eyes at. The whip cracked and they began circling each other, side stepping with their weapons poised in front of them in preparation.

“Sheriff,” Tek shouted, “You can’t keep scaring civilians!” He launched a throwing knife toward the man, clearly not trying to hit because it landed firmly in the pavement a meter away.

Sheriff laughed a very pathetic Villain laugh and cracked his whip again. “I won’t stop until this whole city is free of Heroes!”

“He sounds like a cartoon,” Cuteguy snorted, bringing up a hand to cover his laugh.

Hotguy looked over to his partner with a goofy smile, “He somehow makes a whip seem like a kid’s toy.” 

Tek pulled another throwing knife from his side and prepared to throw another. “Leave this city alone! The people need Heroes to defend from people like you!”

Sheriff swug his whip and caught Tek in it. Both parties involved seemed to be surprised by this development, but Sheriff quickly recovered and pulled Tek to the ground. He stepped up to the fallen and bound Hero and laughed, “I got you this time!” He placed a cowboy boot on his center and continued bad-mouthing.

Cuteguy narrowed his eyes in confusion, “I’m going down there.” He jumped and flapped his wings a few times to get some height on the scene. I know that voice. He positioned himself above the gloating Villain and brought his wings in to let himself rapidly descend and knock him over.

Sheriff spluttered, turning to look up at the avian. “What- Cuteguy?!” His face was plastered with shock and a few feathers poked out near his hairline. His Sheriff’s hat had fallen on the ground behind him and he crawled backwards to pick it up.

Jimmy! He couldn’t help but let out a chirp of surprise. What are you doing, you idiot?

Tek sprung up and freed himself from the whip, “I’ve got him, Cuteguy! Don’t worry about it,” he sounded somewhat panicked and Cuteguy backed away to let Tek take care of it. The man picked up the fussy Villain without any sort of effort and threw him over his shoulder. They seemed to be bickering quietly to themselves as Tek went around picking up the prop-looking belongings of the Sheriff.

At this point, people had started to walk around the whole mess and cars decided to just find a different way to where they were heading.

Hotguy placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Well… how about we go pick up that car?” He asked, an amused and vaguely judgemental look on his face as he looked at Tek carrying off the oversized Woody doll.

“Well, that was weird.” He shook his head and answered Hotguy’s question by walking toward the Hero Tower. “You've gotta drive, cause I don't have a license.”

Hotguy paused, his face faltering into a concerned grimace. “Y’know… I… well, I can't feel my feet. So I don't think it would be a good idea for me to drive.”

“Good point you make there,” Cuteguy said. “I suppose I'll have to drive. Just… don't expect too much.” 

“That's not a sentence I want to hear,” Hotguy laughed, fingers on his temples.

They walked together in silence for a couple moments before Hotguy broke it. “Hero Commission trains you to drive… how do you not know how?”

“I know how,” Cuteguy said, a humorous smile held back on his face. “I just may not be the safest driver.”

“Oh Gods.”

“You'll be fine!” He assured. “I didn't pass the test through the state, but the Commission trusts me with their vehicle, so it's all good.” 

They checked out their vehicle, a very beat up looking and inconspicuous car with one of the headlights out. They got a set of instant healing and harming splash potions, as well as 2 potions of invisibility each. While they were talking to the equipment keeper, Scar asked for some ‘very professional and stake out appropriate snacks’ and they ended up with 3 bags of chips and 2 packs of cookies, along with a couple cans of soda and bottles of water.

Cuteguy fumbled his way into the driver's seat, struggling to make his wings fit in the space. He ended up hitting Hotguy in the face as he adjusted his wings, but when Hotguy spit out a feather and laughed, he didn't feel too bad about it. “Let's hope this doesn't work like how it looks.” He turned the key in the ignition and heard as the engine instantly roared to life. “Wonderful.” 

Scar yawned and sat back in the passenger seat. The AC system was slowly cooling off the interior, and he moved the fan to not hit him directly. “Seems like they just put all new parts in a crappy shell.”

Cuteguy nodded, adjusting the mirrors. “Clearly.” He backed out of the space and headed out of the parking garage. They emerged a block away from the Hero Tower, an inconspicuous spot that made it look like it was connected to a nearby hotel. The frame of the car rattled as they drove, dramatically shaking at any small pothole they drove over. “This is going to be a long drive…”

“Do you mind if I nap for it?” Hotguy yawned, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

Cuteguy glanced at the sleepy Hero with a pink feather stuck in his hair and his reflective glasses askew. “I don’t care.”

They made their way out to the edge of the city. Everything seemed extra dirty and the car creaked and shook with every crack in the road and stray trash they ran over. The street was dead. Not a single sign of life for the past few blocks, and Cuteguy was starting to feel like maybe this car was the right choice. He found himself in the side parking lot of a building bordering the ditch the storm drain emptied into. From here, they had a clear view of both the entrance to the drain system and the road leading up to it. 

Cuteguy shut off the engine and put the keys into the cup holder between the two of them. He lightly shook his partner awake. “So… how long do we plan to be out here?”

“However long seems right,” Hotguy shrugged, sitting up and yawning.

With a frown, Cuteguy reached into the back seat and pulled out a pack of cookies. He took a big bite out of one. “Going to need the sugar to stay awake.”

The other Hero took his spyglass out of his utility belt and held it up to his eye. He adjusted the dials until he could see clearly, and stuck his tongue out in concentration.

Cuteguy stared at him with heavy eyes and a slightly scrunched nose. “You're really using that?” Hotguy hummed a satisfied ‘yes!’ and Cuteguy took another bite of his cookie, rolling his eyes. “Okay, then.” He turned back to the storm drain, watching the grass around it wave with the wind. He felt his wings getting claustrophobic and tried to adjust them, but no luck on fixing the problem.

Hotguy dropped his spyglass to his lap. “Nothing significant is happening.” He leaned back in his seat again and turned to his avian partner, who shuffled and writhed in his chair, trying to get his wings to fit comfortably in the seat. “You should put the seat back. It will give you room to spread out a bit.”

Cuteguy pulled violently at the seat adjuster, trying to push the seat back at the same time, but he was getting uncoordinated from frustration. Hotguy pulled the seat back to touch the back row, leaving Cuteguy as much room as possible. “Thank you!” Cuteguy huffed, releasing the bar under the seat and spreading out his stiff wings.

They sat in relative silence for a while, only speaking to each other with short sentences about the mission. “Road is clear,” or “No movement,” were said too many times. 

Each other's presence in the small space was hard to ignore, too. Cuteguy got too familiar with his partner's smell. It was so distinct. A musky, warm and sugary smell, as if he'd eaten cookies in the forest. It was odd. 

Hotguy couldn't help but think of Cuteguy's wings and how he wanted to pet them again. Or touch the silky soft down feathers on the avain's back. One of his wings was behind his chair and he really wanted to turn and just stare at the cascade of feathers.

Eventually, it had simply been far too long. It was hard to stare at the same hunk of concrete coming out of the side of a ditch forever, and it didn't take long for Cuteguy's mind to wander to something it shouldn't have. It took a little longer to say something, but he simply couldn't keep it to himself.

“What happened last night?” His words came out slowly, and he felt himself get chills at the confrontation.

Scar froze. His whole body felt cold and he curled in on himself awkwardly . He didn't think he could explain himself now. If it had been right after it happened, he'd spill his damn guts, but now… he felt all the embarrassment coming back and he kept his mouth shut before more feelings emerged. He knew he was somewhat quick to cry in situations like this and it was not a time for that. After yesterday’s tears, he couldn’t reveal that side of himself again.

“Sorry, that was rude.” Cuteguy looked at his curled up and stone faced partner. “I really just want to know what happened so I can help you better next time.”

“I have a feeling you already know…” It took everything in him to keep his face clear of emotion. Even more to keep his voice steady.

Cuteguy let the silence permeate for a moment before he responded. “Panic attack?”

Scar nodded. Hotguy laughed, “You know it.” 

The silence just got thicker and thicker, leaving the car feeling warm and uncomfortable. Cuteguy grabbed for the keys and turned it just enough so the AC would start without turning on the actual engine.

Hotguy laughed again. “Sorry, my feelings must be stinky.”

Cuteguy chirped a surprised giggle in response. “Never heard that before!” He turned to see the Hero stretching forward and cracking his back. “I'm just bad at talking, I suppose.”

“You are,” Hotguy nodded with a gentle smile. “It's okay. I don't think I'm too good at talking, either.”

“You're pretty good at it, from what I see.” Cuteguy watched his partner as he picked up his spyglass again and peered out the window. His ponytail seemed to be coming loose and his visor was crooked on his face, exposing his dark under eye bags. “I think we're both just tired right now.”

Time passed. A lot of time. Mostly, they just ate snacks and spoke from time to time. They were both fighting to keep themselves awake, so they began to play a game of trivia/twenty questions/whatever they could come up with.

“What’s your favourite food?” Cuteguy asked, leaning on the steering wheel, his legs curled up under him on the seat and his wings spread out flat behind him. 

Hotguy immediately smiled. He sat in a similar position, his arms laid on the dashboard to prop up his head as he looked out. “My friend makes this absolutely delicious pasta. It’s dela- deli- dekel- delect- anle- delectable!” He laughed and shook his head. “Sleepiness getting to my tongue, I guess.”

“You stutter without being sleepy,” Cuteguy threw his way. 

“Oh, alright,” he shot back, “You’re- um- you’re really stubborn!”

Cuteguy barked out a laugh, “That was supposed to be a come back?”

Hotguy looked away to hide his embarrassed blush, “I mean, nothing came to mind fast enough.” He smiled slightly to himself. “You’re just pretty much perfect in my mind.”

Cuteguy couldn’t help but swing his head around to look at his partner, who was still looking away. His aural feathers were glued to the sides of his head and he felt a surge of either anxiety or adoration. It all felt very similar when he was looking at this ridiculous Hero sat beside him, head on the dash like a kid. “Well… next question?”

“Next question,” he nodded. “Why did you decide to become a Hero?” He looked back at Cuteguy, who was clearly staring at him. 

They made awkward eye contact for a moment before Cuteguy turned to look out the front window again. “Um… I became a Hero because I just wanted to be a person that helped people. Crime was up… I was able… I just started and it worked out.” 

Hotguy nodded. “Similar for me,” he admitted, “I just couldn’t stand being so… useless.” He shook his head and closed his heavy eyes for a moment, “Too bad it made me… well… like this.” He gestured to his robotic legs.

“You’re not useless,” Cuteguy affirmed. “Don’t think that about yourself.”

“I’m really only useful as Hotguy. I can’t do much without being all geared up…”

Cuteguy was about to turn to reassure his partner again, but was cut off by a flash of light near the drain entrance. 

They both went silent and Scar pulled out his spyglass to get a closer look at the scene.

Sneaking through the tall grass were two figures, one with a large tail. There was a lamplight hanging from one of their hands. Once they got to the entrance, they could spot that one was blonde and the other was the wolf hybrid they’d seen a few nights ago.

They seemed to exchange potions, both glowing faintly even from the far distance. Hand in hand, they went into the darkness.

The partners stayed still for a few moments before Cuteguy interrupted the silence.

“We might have to wait forever to see if they ever get out.”

Hotguy yawned, “I don't think I can stay up.” His eyes drooped as he turned to look at Cuteguy.

They made eye contact again, this time quite a bit longer and more intimate. Cuteguy really saw right through to the core of the long-time, overworked and overwhelmed Hero. He thought maybe Hotguy could tell because he gave a small, sheepish fake smile. Cuteguy adjusted on his seat to sit normally again and said gently, “I’ll keep watch. Get a bit of sleep.”

“Yeah… last night left me really exhausted,” Hotguy yawned, putting his spyglass back in his belt and turning onto his side to face Cuteguy. He felt his thighs ache as he curled them up onto the seat, and he winced in pain. He closed his eyes against the ache and put his legs back down in defeat. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Cuteguy had leaned in a bit and had a hand pulled up as if preparing himself to reach out. “Um… yeah?”

Cuteguy leaned away and dropped his hand awkwardly. “Sorry?” His voice raised in pitch as if it were a question. “Sorry, I just saw you were in pain.”

“I kind of always am, so it's no big deal,” he shrugged off, closing his eyes again. His hair tie fell out as he adjusted his head on the seat and he seemed as if he was going to go right to sleep. “Sorry… that sounds bad.”

Cuteguy looked back out the window at their silent surroundings. “It does.”

“Well, no one fits the ideal of a perfect superhero, but I'm definitely not even close,” Hotguy stifles as laugh. “I get panic attacks and my legs don't work,” and I’m not even meant to be here. He opened his eyes to see his partner with slightly puffed up wings. “I guess I'm just here to be hot!” He barked out a laugh.

Cuteguy hated the stupid words that risked spilling from his mouth. I'll protect you. “That's not true.”

“Well, don't tell the Commission that! They'll give me more than just this creepy shit,” he sighed, his voice beginning to get weak and eyes drifted shut.

Cuteguy identified this and subconsciously moved his wing closer to hug the back of Hotguy’s chair. He left them in silence and continued peering out. The empty field. The storm drain. The spot he protected Hotguy at and hissed at a frog last night. He sighed. He checked his comm. He looked at his dozing partner, his visor more crooked than it had been before.

His face is a little cute . He thought- I did not just think that! He turned back to his stake out duties. He would look. That's all he needed to do. Just look out the windows. He's just an adorable peaceful sleeper . He shook the thought again. I must be more tired than I thought. He looked at his comm to see it was already past midnight. A few more hours and he'd go home and sleep. No big deal. 

For the next hour, he found himself slowly turning his body toward the passenger side and bringing his wings behind him. It was just to get a better view that way! He laid down slowly, his eyes drooping against his valiant effort to keep himself awake. Just a couple minutes won't hurt.

-

Rays of light poked through Hotguy's visor, leaving his eyes stinging as he blinked them open in pure confusion. Damn, his back hurt and his arm had gone numb. Had Jellie gotten a bit heavier and laid on his hand? He gained focus on the world in front of him and felt his face go hot and cherry red.

Cuteguy had his head laid on his partner's hand, and was curled into a ball as he snored silently in his seat. His wings curled around him to cover himself like a blanket, and the sets of pink and black feathers by his ears were lightly twitching as Scar internally freaked out.

What is going on?! He tried to pull his hand away, seeing as it had gone mostly numb, and couldn't seem to dislodge it from under Cuteguy's head… and claws! His hand was wrapped around Hotguy's wrist, keeping his hand in place.  He felt the pins and needles go up his arm as he tried again to move away.

Cuteguy let out a sleepy chitter of disagreement and pulled the Hero's hand in closer. 

“Hey… Cutie? Wake up…” he said lightly pulling his hand away again, looking at the sunrise coming in, realizing the stake out had been a complete bust. He had a class to teach today! He couldn't be laying here in this cramped car any longer, even if he really wanted to let his partner hold and cuddle his hand. 

Shuffling and chirping as he did so, Cuteguy blinked his eyes open. He made eye contact with his accidental sleeping partner, and jumped back, releasing the Hero's hand, his feathers ruffled up in defense. He looked around the car for a second and out the window. “Shit.” He rushed to adjust his seat and turn the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life and rubbed his hands over his tired eyes.

He turned to look at Hotguy, his hair sticking up in all directions and he sighed. “What the hell.”

They looked at each other for a long moment before Cuteguy shook his head and turned to start driving back and return the car.

-

(Cute bonus scene for my Ranchers fans)

“Are you crazy?!” Tango asked incredulously. He took off his Tek jacket and fell on the couch beside Jimmy in their apartment above the Ranchers Hotel.

Hiding his face in his hands, Jimmy nodded. “A little.”

Tango grabbed his wrists and gently pulled his hands so that he could see his husband's face. “Jimmyyy… Jimmy look at me.” Curious eyes met his and Tango smiled. “Oh my Gods you're so cute.”

Jimmy turned away and pouted. “Why do you do thaaat? It's embarrassing!”

Tango shook his head and put a finger to Jimmy's chin to redirect his eyes again. “That wasn't my point, I'm sorry you distracted me!” He wrapped an arm around Jimmy and kissed his cheek. “I was trying to say that you need to be more careful. Cuteguy is a little… unpredictable right now. I thought he was gonna hurt you!”

Jimmy frowned and hid his face in Tango's chest. “I didn't even know he was gonna be there…”

He pet his hair. “Which is what you need to be careful about!”

“No one takes me seriously! Maybe I should take more risks!”

“Jimmy…” Tango looked around in confusion. “You were trying to be taken seriously?”

“YEAH!”

“Oh…”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘OH’?”

“You don't make things very obvious for me, hun!”

Chapter Text

Muscles and skin ached. He climbed the last step of his fire escape and sat to catch his breath. Under his skin, he felt a million hot needles stabbing into him. He heaved a breath and wrenched his window open with his remaining strength and climbed inside. His teeth clashed together trying to ignore the metal of his robotic legs digging right into his bruises. He fell to the floor and crawled gruelingly slow to his closet. 

He grabbed a fresh dress shirt and khaki pants. He needed to get ready for work. He forced himself up through cracking joints and pained breaths, and sat on the edge of his bed. He peeled his shirt off and gasped in pain. He doubled over, letting the pain pass as he cried quietly, tired of hearing himself. His eyes blurred as he got tunnel vision on the floor as his head spun, looking at the tufts of carpet moving as Jellie walked past and jumped up.

Jellie laid on the bed beside him and pawed at his curled up form. He smiled at her. “I'm okay, girly.” He patted her head and took a moment to regroup before he continued changing. He wiped at his wet cheeks and sat up.

He unlatched his robotic legs and dragged his real legs out. He saw and most definitely felt the green and purple bruises around his thighs from the rigid metal. His skin felt hot and tender at the touch. 

Why had he slept in this horrible outfit and why did he sleep in that uncomfortable car and why was he still thinking about Cuteguy?

With a frustrated sigh, he changed into his work clothes.

He was sleeping on my hand…

He's probably mad that I saw him like that…

Why was he so nice to me…

He buttoned his shirt and laid back in his bed, letting the tension release from his tight shoulders and back.

“Jellie… I don't want to go to work…”

She climbed onto his chest and started purring, her eyes closed in contentedness. He laughed and petted her behind the ears. She yawned and started kneading at his chest. 

“Oh, you're doing the Jellie 5000…” He made a scandalized face, “You can't do this to me! How am I going to get up now?” He let himself rest his eyes for a while before he had to force himself up, into his wheelchair, and out the door.

-

Once his first class was out the door, he promptly sat behind his desk and let himself close his eyes. His pain had subsided a bit. He did a couple stretches and some self massage on his shoulders before he realized that Grian hadn't come in.

Scar reached for his phone to see a short text, 

Grian:

I'm home today

Scar couldn't believe he'd come to work just to eat lunch by himself. To mend the exhaustion he felt, he thought maybe it would be nice to talk with his lunch buddy. Alas, he wasn’t there, but Scar could at least get some satisfaction with a phone call.

His phone rang only a couple times before Grian answered in a groggy voice, “Hello?”

“Hey, G! Feeling alright?” He asked.

Grian was silent for a moment before answering in a dead tired voice. “I… didn't get any sleep last night. Made me feel sick.” He coughed unconvincing.

Scar felt a frown appear on his face. “Well, okay. Do you want me to bring some food to you?”

“No!” He coughed again and corrected his tone. “No… no, I'm alright.”

“Well, go back to sleep. Hope to see you tomorrow.” He almost hung up before he remembered what he wanted to say, “And never get sick again! I can't stand being alone.”

“Sorry. I'll be there tomorrow!”

With that, he hung up and sighed with disappointment. He went to the student canteen to at least get something for lunch.

As he entered, he saw several people glued to their phones. Every screen he glanced at had the unmistakable cowboy hat on it. Sheriff. It was silly to see everyone looking at that guy, Scar thought. 

“Geez, he kinda looks like the academic coordinator…”

“He does!” 

“No way he would be a villain, though…”

Scar held in a laugh… It definitely was Jimmy. He'd recognized him last night, but obviously couldn't let anyone know of his personal life connections. He was a bit concerned when Cuteguy had swooped down and knocked the wind out of the poor guy, but no harm was done because there he was in the cafeteria.

“Scar!” Jimmy smiled as he motioned for the professor to take a seat beside him. 

Tango sat beside him with a similar grin on his face, but his eyes were still glued to Jimmy as usual.

“Hey Jimmy! Hey Tango! What's up?” He said, sliding his wheelchair to an open spot at the table. 

“Oh, nothing,” Jimmy shrugged. “I never see you in here, what's up?”

“Oh… Grian's not here today, so I've essentially got no food and no friend.” Scar made puppy eyes and wiped away an imaginary tear. “What am I to do all alone?”

Tango whispered something in Jimmy's ear that caused the taller one to cover his mouth as a laugh escaped. He turned to Scar with a grin. “I can video call my cousin. Sure he'd love to see you.”

Scar shook his head. “No, no, I already called him. He said he's feeling really sick.”

It was too late. Jimmy already had his ridiculous contact picture for Grian- him in a chicken costume as a child- on his phone as it was ringing. 

Scar tentatively looked at the man’s phone and jumped a little when he answered. It was a black screen. A pitch black room. Grian's voice shot out in groggy annoyance. “I'm kind of not in the mood. And you know not to call me while you're in public.” 

“Oh, lighten up. Scar’s here to say hi. So is Tango. But I figured you'd be more fussed about Scar.”

The line was silent for a moment.

“Gri?”

“You drive me insane.”

There was a beep and the screen was back to Grian’s contact. 

“Is that a normal conversation?” Scar asked.

“Yeah.”

-

Knocking sounded on Scar's apartment door. It was intense yet calculated, repeating in the same sequence again and again. It must have been Cub.

Gods, how had he gotten here? He was sprawled on the couch with his work shirt half unbuttoned. His head hurt like it'd been hit with a baseball bat. Every inch of his body was sore and he couldn't move. His phone was gone.

He yelled from his couch, hoping Cub would be able to hear him. “Just… Come in!”

“The door is locked!” Cub shouted back.

Scar hesitated for a moment, trying to get himself up, but everything hurt too much to do so. “I know that can't stop you!”

A frustrated sigh. A cacophony of odd clicking and clanking sounds. A loud bang. 

“Alright. I'll fix that later.” Cub came to Scar's side and looked at the state of him. “You're not going out tonight.” He turned to look for the robotic legs he was tasked to fix. “I’ll fix your legs while you rest a while.”

Scar tried to sit up to argue, but quickly decided to simply protest as he was- laying down. “Yes, I am! Just grab me my pain meds, please.”

Cub walked to the borderline pharmacy lying on Scar's kitchen counter and brought the few bottles he knew would help, along with an instant healing potion. “I'm telling you, there's no way you should be out like this. You need to rest.” He handed the items to Scar, who took out 3 different pain meds and swallowed them by chugging the health potion.

“Come on, I feel fine.” He tentatively sat up and straightened his sore back, feeling the weird hot and cold sensation of the healing potion surge through his body. He gasped in pain, but kept it up. “I'll go out there.” He stood and held the side of the couch while searching for his cane. “Can you…” he pointed to his cane in the entryway, struggling to form words while fighting to keep himself standing with his thighs turned black and blue. “Cane?”

Cub went to retrieve it. Scar leaned on the arm of the couch and squirmed in pain. His wings were crushed while he was sleeping and he couldn’t help but unbutton his shirt to get rid of the feeling. He discarded his shirt on the back of the couch and stretched out his wings as much as he could.

Cub held in a gasp as he saw the man's back. “Scar-” 

“We're not bringing that up.” He took the cane from Cub and started toward his room on wobbly legs. Cub trailed behind him, trying to ensure he didn’t fall. Scar, having fallen on a sore subject, turned and snapped, “What was it that you came here for anyway?”

“I'm here because you didn't answer any calls or texts or anything. I was worried.” Cub sighed frustratedly as Scar closed the bedroom door in front of him to change. 

“No need to worry!” Scar argued, sitting on the edge of his bed and getting his booty shorts on. “I'm not dead yet.”

“Well, I also worry about your health in general. You don't have to be dead to be doing bad…” 

Scar paused, looking at his beaten and bruised legs. Black, grey, and several shades of green and purple and blue. He hated seeing them. He hated knowing that these were his. But he didn’t always have to be Scar. He had options. Well… an option. He was Hotguy. He’d let himself be Hotguy for now. As long as he needed to be. As long as his legs moved. As long as he could possibly go. He pulled his robotic legs on and told Cub, “I’ll be good til I’m dead.”

“Scar…” Cub sighed, disheartened. “I’m being serious. You can’t keep this up.”

Hotguy put his glasses on, pulled his bow over his head, grabbed his quiver, and was out the window.

“Scar?” Cub raised his voice, hearing the clattering. He jiggled the door knob and knocked with no luck. “Scar!” The silence that followed was louder than anything Cub could yell out.

-

Cuteguy was already on the scene when Hotguy swooped in, hands on his hips and cocky grin plastered on his face. “What's the deal here?” 

He surveyed the scene. A house, the inside pitch black. Police officers stood around with weapons ready and uneasy faces. Many were milling around, looking for the different ways inside. All around were cracks in the concrete and overgrown plants snaking their way up the side of the building. In contrast, the neighborhood was clean and upper class, with well maintained houses and streets. This one stuck out like a sore thumb.

Cuteguy grabbed Hotguy’s wrist and started leading him to the entrance to expedite the process. “It’s a hostage case. We need to get in there and save them,” he briefed, letting go of Hotguy’s hand at the door to check his guns. “Police attempted to go inside, but believe the one keeping hostages has powers.”

Hotguy nodded, his face steeling as he shifted into his serious attitude. “I'll go in first to barter. Follow and shoot if they get too violent.”

Cuteguy agreed, putting his gun in its holster on his hip. “Okay. They're in the basement. Call me and I'll be down there in a flash.”

They quietly opened the front door that had been wrenched open by police. The hinges creaked and filled the eerily quiet space with an immediate sense of unease. The lights were all knocked out. Broken glass on the ground, while tape and cardboard covered the windows. 

Yelling and banging started downstairs. Hotguy and Cuteguy made eye contact and looked around for the door to the stairs. Every inch of the place looked damp and old, but the neighborhood was new. The paint was peeling and yellow, but why? 

Cuteguy poked out a wing to get Hotguy’s attention to the door behind him. His eyes said “Be careful.” Hotguy tried to ignore the surge of adoration that went through his body.

He opened the door silently and let Hotguy descend the stairs. His bow was drawn and ready. He really couldn't control his legs well enough to be silent, so his footsteps were loud against his will. He heard the incomprehensible yelling stop and redirect.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” A crazed voice ripped through the silence. Voices joined, struggling through restraints and mouth coverings, making them completely incomprehensible except for the rattling of chains and metal chairs against concrete.

Hotguy hit the bottom of the stairs and turned around the wall that hid his descent. “It’s me,” he nocked an arrow and pointed it at the captor, “Hotguy.”

Cuteguy held in a laugh as he slowly made his way down the stairs, completely silent as to not give himself away.

The hostage keeper growled and went to… Ren! The wolf hybrid they’d fought before. Only now he was chained up and tied to a metal chair with a cloth tied around his mouth. “You see what you’ve done?!” The blond spoke, kicking at Ren’s chair and ripping the fabric out of his mouth. “Want to explain to this poor man why we’re even here?”

Ren’s ears went back in fear, seeing the man’s face so twisted and angry. “Martyn…” He cowered more as Martyn looked to his friend beside him. “Don’t hurt BigB! I… I can’t-”

Martyn pulled out a pocket knife. Hotguy yelled, “DROP IT.” His hand opened involuntarily and the knife plummeted to the ground with a loud clatter. Eyes widened all around and a silence fell over the dark, damp, and decrepit basement.

“Didn't think about that stupid little power…” Martyn laughed off. He raised his hands in false surrender. “I've got a very important thing going on here, you see.” He bent down to pick up his knife and put the blade to BigB's neck in one single movement.

“Martyn, please!” Ren screamed in horror, struggling against his restraints. “I'm following their orders! He's my soulmate!”

Hotguy slowly started toward them, his steps calculated and precise. “Get. Away. From. Him,” He enunciated. Martyn instantly backed off and ran right into the wall with inconsistent and unstable steps. “Cuteguy, come down!” He called up, keeping his eyes directly in line with Martyn's.

Cuteguy appeared around the corner and took in the scene. “I'll get these two out. Keep him there.” The two exchanged a nod and Cuteguy speedily got to freeing the hostages from their bounds.

At super speed, he untied ropes and unlocked chains until BigB was free to get out. Instead of running, BigB began to undo Ren's chains with Cuteguy. 

Martyn yelled since he was unable to move. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, a sign of just how long he'd been down here threatening these people. “REN! KILL HIM! GET HIS GUTS!”

Ren growled. A deep throaty sound Hotguy could feel in his chest. BigB undid the last rope and Ren pounced right out of his chair. Cuteguy dug his talons into Ren's body to get him away, but no luck. Ren had his teeth sunk right into the man's neck. 

Hotguy broke his focus when he heard the guttural screams and gasps escape Cuteguy's mouth. At that instant, Martyn used his new found freedom to stab Hotguy, sinking right into the muscle in his shoulder. 

He reached his hand up in shock as Martyn removed the blade. “Haha ha haha! Good job, Hottie.” 

The man did his best to ignore the pain as he shot Ren in the side with a poisoned arrow before turning and punching Martyn right in the face to decommission him for at least a moment. “Get out!” He tried to demand, but he couldn't keep his eyes open long enough and lost any hope for real focus. He quickly changed his tactic and kicked Ren right in the back to get him to release Cuteguy. 

Ren recoiled in pain and fear, but kept his teeth bared in defense. Cuteguy gasped while holding his neck and struggling to get enough air in. He crawled his way back into a corner and drew his gun.

Hotguy kicked Ren again, trying to get him on his front so he could tie his hands behind his back. Meanwhile, Martyn held BigB down with a knife in his hand digging dangerously close to slicing the man's neck clean open. 

The bullet Cuteguy shot struck Martyn's arm and the blade flew right out of his hand. He looked down in shock and paused. He looked at Ren who was whimpering as Hotguy tied him up. His eyes welled up with tears and he looked down to see BigB staring up in horror and shaking. “I… I don't know what happened to me, B.” He stumbled backwards, giving BigB space to get away. “I… I think…”

Cuteguy grabbed Martyn by the collar of his shirt and shoved him to the floor. As he tied the man's hands behind his back, he eyed BigB, who was looking around in fear. “Are you involved with them? Do you know what was going on?” He asked through gasps of pain.

BigB shook his head. “I've got no clue…” He'd backed himself into a corner and was looking at the scene. “How… how did you figure out we were down here?”

Cuteguy flapped his wings a couple times to help right himself as he stood, feeling the blood loss from the wound in his neck. “Ask the police. I don't know.” He started leaning down to pick up Martyn, but quickly realized he was too dizzy to carry him. “Hot-” He backed up against the wall. “Hotguy,” he choked out, holding his hands against the wall… but something was there, curling around his fingers. With heavy eyes he turned and saw… mycelium. 

He jumped and turned as he backed away, only to see the whole wall covered in mycelium and purple tendrils slowly reaching out to grab him. He shrieked, his voice a terrible, scratchy thing as he struggled for breath. Hotguy rushed to get behind him and catch him as he tripped over Martyn. He cradled the panicked avian as he tried to see who had grabbed him. As they made eye contact, Hotguy couldn’t help but see the fear slip from Cuteguy’s gaze and settle into a more determined face. “We’re getting out of here. Stand up and I’ll get the tied up ones. Make sure B gets out safe.” Hotguy told his partner who nodded in response. “We’re alright.” He helped correct Cuteguy to standing and enacted their plan.

He grabbed Martyn and threw him over his shoulder- the one Martyn had stabbed- and struggled for a moment to stay standing and composed, but continued. Ren, with a rope stuck in his mouth to avoid unwanted biting, was thrown onto his other shoulder. He followed Cuteguy and BigB up the stairs. He huffed, feeling metal dig into the bruises on his thighs as he hauled nearly double his weight up the steep stairs. He continued through the musty house, and out into the glow of the police lights, washing everything in red and blue.

He dropped the scoundrels at the foot of a few officers, before standing back up in huffing breaths. He didn't have a chance to fully level himself before Cuteguy stumbled over to him and fell into his arms, breathing strained and heavy. Scar looked down in shock and grazed the back of the shorter man’s head with gentle fingers. “I’ll get you all healed up. It’ll be okay,” he spoke gently, holding his partner against his chest as he chittered in pain. He looked up and caught the attention of the man in the car next to him. “Officer… I need you to drive us somewhere.”

The officer agreed, and Hotguy guided the wounded bird into the back of the police car. He instructed the officer to go to the Commission building, and immediately directed his attention back to Cuteguy, curled in on himself. “Is there anything I can do for you, birdy?” He asked, slowly and gently carding his fingers through the man’s hair, attempting to sooth him. 

“Stop,” came the harsh response through pain gritted teeth.

Hotguy froze and removed his hands from Cuteguy’s hair and side. “Stop what?”

Cuteguy countered Hotguys distance by closing it and leaning his head against Hotguy’s chest. “Stop pretending you’re not hurt,” he heaved out between a few deep breaths, an annoyed chirp straining its way out.

Scar felt his frown deepen and his face turn red. He resumed petting Cuteguy’s hair and holding onto his waist protectively. “I am hurt. But you’re more hurt. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be okay,” he assured, bringing a wing around to cover them both.

Scar’s eyes stung and he leaned into Cuteguy’s touch, feeling his silky soft wings close around their forms. Suddenly, he was the one trying to keep his breath from hitching. He looked at the blood on his partner’s neck, trickling down and being soaked up by his black shirt. He could feel that he was in the same situation, his shoulder burning and screaming at him to do something about it. His whole body was rigid with stress and he forced himself with what emotional capacity he had left to not cry. He was going to protect Cuteguy at all costs. He couldn’t let anything get in the way of doing that, especially his weak body.

-

A long drive for the two exhausted Heroes, they woke to the officer telling them they’d arrived. Cuteguy retracted his wing and backed away from Hotguy so they could exit the car. Hotguy got out and offered his hand to Cuteguy, who initially tried to refuse the help, but upon attempting to stand realized he needed it from how dizzy he’d gotten from the blood loss.

“I’m not flirting back, you… dumb blond,” he said, struggling to keep on his feet as they approached the entrance.

Hotguy held back a laugh as he held the door open for the wobbly avian. “You’re blond, not me.”

“Oh my Gods, shut up,” he complained, holding his thumb against the scanner.

“Aye, aye, captain.” He pantomimed zipping his mouth, locking it, and throwing away the key, which earned an annoyed smirk from Cuteguy. Hotguy was enjoying the smile as they waited for the elevator before he remembered… they were meant to give the bad guys to the Commission… they were meant to go to Hero Tower… “We forgot to send those people to Hero Tower…”

“What?” Cuteguy asked before shaking his head slightly. “We… let’s talk about it later.” They got into the elevator and Hotguy noticed that his partner was backing away a bit; his hand only barely touching his as Cuteguy leaned against the wall. He gasped in a breath as he touched the wound on his neck, pulling his finger back to see deep red blood running down his hand. He whimpered out a sigh as he looked to Hotguy, a worried expression distorting his features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he lied easily as the elevator doors opened, settling into a forced smile. He grabbed tighter onto his partner’s hand and led him to the front desk. “He needs a healer.” 

The man at the desk nodded and a doctor appeared to take Cuteguy away. “What's the damage?” The healer asked, leading them down the hall.

“He was bit in the neck,” Hotguy started to explain before he was interrupted.

“Stupid, go get your own room,” Cuteguy croaked out, shoving him away. “You're hurt!”

Hotguy's eyebrows furrowed in embarrassment, reaching a hesitant hand out. “I… I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“He'll be just fine, Hotguy,” the doctor assured. “Go in this room and I'll have another healer show up in a moment.” He opened a sliding glass door and let Hotguy in, making sure to hold Cuteguy's arm to keep him stable. “He's going to be alright.” The doctor reiterated.

Hotguy reluctantly sat on the cot and watched them walk away. He looked around at all the medical instruments and boxes of gloves and cotton balls and all sorts of things. He slowly started to let himself pay attention to his pain. It had been there the whole time, but there was a different feeling that came when he stopped shoving it away with the little bit his power allowed. He could feel his pulse throb in his shoulder and the muscles in his thighs burned from overuse. 

Pain was a living, breathing beast that had lived in his body since the day he lost use of his legs. It grew and moved and bit. When he could see it… when he had to see it, it was dark and weeping and pooled under his skin or out of it. He traced the purple bruises he could see peeking out from under his shorts and robotic legs with a gentle finger. He pushed in. Sharp, fierce pain pounced up and he pulled his hand back.

“Hotguy?” A young medic knocked on the glass door, a performative measure. She walked in as Hotguy acknowledged her and sat across from him on a rolling chair. “So what’s the issue here?” She asked as she connected Hotguy to the machines to monitor his vitals.

Hotguy shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. “Stabbed in the shoulder.” He turned to let the medic see the vertical slice in his upper shoulder blade. “I may have caused damage to my legs, I’m not sure.”

The healer nodded and brought out some supplies to clean the cut. “Alright, before I heal it, I need to clean it, so give me a moment to do that.” She adjusted Hotguy’s position to best clean the wound, laying down on his front, and began working. “So, what do you mean you’re not sure if you damaged your legs?”

Hotguy paused. Usually people here knew about his robotic legs and his… condition. “Well… I can’t feel my legs except for my thighs… which hurt a lot…” He explained. He was gritting his teeth with the pain of the alcohol stinging the damaged skin. “It’s hard to tell if I hurt something major.”

“Oh,” the rookie responded. “Well, I’ll get your legs checked out.” She moved her cleaning instruments to the side and took off her gloves. “I’m going to heal you now. Make sure to take deep breaths.”

She placed her hands over the stab wound and Hotguy began to feel the familiar surge of heat and cold that healing brought to the body. His insides were cold as ice but his skin was burning. He took in measured breaths to get through the odd and uncomfortable feeling. He could almost feel his skin fusing back together into a stubborn and dark scar that would never fade. 

The healer removed her hands slowly. “Stay there. I’m going to take a look at your legs while your vitals settle.”

Hotguy jumped and turned to see the medic putting on another pair of gloves. “You might not be ex-”

“Hey, hey, lay down,” she said, putting a hand on his back.

He obeyed, but continued to explain himself. “My legs… I have…” He struggled to find suitable words that felt natural coming from his mouth.

“Void exposure?” She asked, looking at him with gentle eyes. 

He gulped and nodded.

“I know about the void exposure… I didn’t know it would take away all your feeling…” She explained. “It’s sort of atypical for void exposure to take away feeling, but it’s a case by case basis. The void takes, but seemingly at random.” She unlatched the robotic legs and slowly removed them, careful to avoid the bruises.

“The void hasn’t stopped taking from me.”

She winced in shock as she revealed the grey and blackened skin further down his legs. “I see that.” She placed the robotic legs beside his cot and began examining his legs.

Since Hotguy couldn’t see what she was doing, he didn’t know what was happening. He just heard her quiet observations and when she placed his leg back down because the cot creaked a bit. She moved onto his thighs and he definitely felt that. He gasped in pain and she immediately removed her hands.

“Sorry, I barely touched it.” She rolled in her seat to the cabinet and pulled out a potion whipped into an applicable cream. “This should help to make those bruises go away. You can use it on your shoulder if any pain persists,” she explained, opening the jar. “I’m going to put it on your thighs. The way it works,” she started, gently applying it to Hotguy’s skin. “Is that it uses normal medical chemicals to numb it, then the potion has time to penetrate into the skin. It’s like a normal healing potion, but less warm and cold feeling.”

He felt the numbing. It was nice. His thighs had been sore non-stop for probably years at this point, so he was very glad he said something this time. “I take it home?” 

“Yes, I’ll send you home with three jars. Come back if you need more.” 

“Thank you,” he said, basking in the lack of pain. 

They sat in silence for a while. She’d finished applying the potion and turned to packing him a bag to leave. He was getting sleepy, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat on the monitor and the uncomfortable pillow started to feel luxurious. She checked the spot she healed one last time before telling him, “Well, you’re all healed up and free to go.” She helped him to sit up and handed him his robotic legs to put back on. Lastly, she handed him the bag with his healing potions. “Take these. Apply a thin layer. A little goes a long way. Get home safe.”

He left the room and looked around the hall to see if Cuteguy had gotten out, too. No trace of him. He went to the front desk. “Is Cuteguy okay?”

“He’s still healing,” the clerk responded, sorting through papers. “You can check on him in room 233.” 

Hotguy nodded and pivoted to go see him. He felt a sort of guilt well up in his chest as he thought about how he’d instructed Cuteguy to free the hostages and that got him hurt and then they didn’t even turn them into the Hero Tower. He fucked up a lot tonight. Not to mention the mycelium!? Where had that even come from in the first place?

His head cleared when he knocked on the door and was greeted by the doctor, who moved aside to let him in. “He’s sleeping,” the doctor whispered, gesturing to the sleeping ball of feathers.

Hotguy looked on with pure adoration. Cuteguy was curled up under his own wings and was cooing on his out-breath, like some sort of avian specific snoring. He stood beside his bed, trying to get a look at his neck, but it was hidden under his hair. “How bad was it?”

“Well, there’s a little bit of scarring, very light, pretty much invisible,” the doctor started, keeping his voice low. “The bite struck close to his artery, so he is very lucky to be alive. He had the heart to be stubborn and a little sassy with me, so I think he’ll be just fine when he wakes up.”

Hotguy smiled down at his partner. “Yeah, that’s definitely him.” He had to resist petting his pretty feathers and beautiful hair. “I… I should just let him rest.” He said, backing away from the cot and back to the door. “Sorry, I just wanted to see him before I went home.”

“No worries. I can see that you love him,” the doctor smiled, closing the door behind Hotguy, whose face turned red as a cherry.

He started walking back down the hallway to the elevator, looking down a bit to hide his abashed grin. 

Geez, am I really that obvious?

Chapter Text

Alarm blaring, Grian sat bolt upright, eyes wide, aural feathers back.

He was still in the Commission ER, and the alarm quickly turned off after he heard a few people scramble down the hallway. He relaxed, realizing he wasn't in any real danger as he had been too many times that week. He stood and stretched, discomfited by the tubes still attached to his arm.

A knock at the door signaled the entrance of his healer. “Hey, bud, how're you feeling?”

He looked over at the time to see that it was 6 am, which really meant time to leave . “I'm fine. Can you undo all this stuff?”

“Yeah, of course.” The doctor nodded as he approached the other side of the bed. “Sit down and l'll get you all ready to go.”

Grian sat and winced as the tape was taken off of his hand and looked away while everything was taken out. 

“You're going to need to let yourself rest, don't do anything super active for a few days, and today you need to try not stretch your neck too much, so no looking straight up. Scarring is worse if you do that.”

Grian nodded. I need to go hooooommeeeee.

“I'm being serious, please take care of yourself,” the doctor emphasized. “I see too many heroes come in here with injuries they got because they didn't let themselves rest.”

He nodded again and left.

-

“Scar!” Grian called down the hallway, watching Scar talk to Jimmy.

Scar looked over with a grin and then shouted, “COVER ME, JIMMY!” and rushed down another hall.

Grian giggled and jogged after him. Jimmy shook his head and ruffled Grian’s hair as he passed by. He followed him to a lounge where Scar hid behind some potted plants. “I see you, Scar!”

“No you don't,” he protested, peeking his head out with his tongue stuck out.

Grian felt a warmth in his chest and closed his eyes for a second so the feeling wouldn't overwhelm him too much. Oh my Gods, he’s too cute. It’s going to kill me some day. He sat on a couch beside the plants and leaned back, getting a good look at Scar's silly position. “You running away from me?”

“Rolling, actually!” Scar smiled, looking off with a mischievous smirk.

Grian snorted. “Okay, dummy, get over here, I brought your favourite,” he said as he took the tote from off his shoulder and set it on the seat beside him.

“No way,” Scar gasped, “I thought you wouldn't be feeling up to it since you weren't feeling well yesterday!” He settled beside the couch and held out a hand to receive the pasta.

Grian shrugged, “It was nothing, really.”

Truthfully, it had taken a lot out of him this morning to make a proper lunch, but Scar didn't need to know that.

“What bit you?”

“What?”

“Like why did you stay home?”

Grian shook his head, of course Scar would phrase it like that . “I told you, I got bad sleep. I think it just… y'know?”

Scar pursed his lips, “No, not really, but,” he shrugged and an easy smile returned to his face as he ate some pasta.

Grian shrugged, too. “It's hard to explain, I guess.”

They sat for a bit just eating before Grian's phone rang, making both of them jump.

The contact was Brad , which made Scar laugh. “Who's named Brad?” 

“Oh, it's just my friend,” Grian said, slightly panicked, scooping up his phone and standing to take the call down the hall. 

“Hello?” WHY ARE THEY CALLING ME AT WORK?!

A robotic voice answered back. “The Commission requests your immediate summons to the Commission Redstone Factory, address 7593 East Trader's Road.” A click. A surge of adrenaline came to him and he paused for a moment, and paced back and forth thinking about what he could say.

Then, he heard Scar approaching him, “Hey, I've got a doctor's appointment in a few minutes, so I'm going to head out.” He gave a smile and held out a hand for a fist bump.

Grian nodded, they fist-bumped, and Scar left.

Clambering to get all his things together, Grian knocked over the tupperware Scar had been using, and pasta spilled all over the floor. He chittered with frustration and desperately searched for a bathroom where he could find some paper towels to clean it up with. When there was nothing very close, he clenched his teeth and picked up the pasta with his hands. He felt like he was committing a cardinal sin and bit back several words of disgust as he transferred the penne rigate to the trash.

Finally, he finished picking it up and regretfully left the sauce that was still on the ground as he speed walked down the hall with his hands awkwardly held out in front of him. He spotted a bathroom and rushed in to wash his hands, catching a look in the mirror where his aural feathers were sticking out a little. He hooted in surprise and silently reprimanded himself for both the feathers and hoot.

He dried his hands and rushed out the door, trying to look much less panicked than he felt.

After getting back to his apartment, he put on his outfit, smeared eyeshadow all over his eyes, drank an invisibility potion, and rushed out the window. 

He arrived on the scene, and landed right behind Hotguy, who whipped around at the rush of air and let out a silent laugh. “We've got some weird stuff going on again, Cutie.”

Cuteguy nodded, surveying the area. Again, police surrounded it, but there was no clear reason why. The factory looked pretty normal from the outside, just as shabby as it had looked before. “Old friend got robbed again?” 

“Apparently not…” Hotguy walked him toward the entrance the cops had made for them and cracked his knuckles. “Something weird like last night.”

“Oh, Gods.” 

They walked in to see purple. Everything was covered in purple mounds or tendrils slowly inching to find any space that hadn't been consumed yet. Beneath their feet, the mycelium creeped to meet them.

Grian stepped back and stomped on the thing, cringing at the way it recoiled for a moment like it was sentient. Disgusting. “Hotguy, what are we in here for, exactly?” He asked as they walked over the sneaking fingers of the eldritch fungus. 

“Oh, yes,” he said, “we're getting two workers out.” 

They both scanned around the factory, much more of a maze than it seemed the first time they were there. “Let me fly up to see if I can spot them.” In the air, the odds of finding them were only slightly improved. Still, purple was the overwhelming mass of the factory. It gathered in thick swathes at the corners of the building and climbed up pipes and palates. He tried to gather his bearings to see anything in the sea of purple. There.

He landed beside Hotguy and grabbed his arm to drag him around the maze. “One of them is trapped,” he explained. As they ran, the light around them started to fade as if the sky itself had darkened above them. Vision became blurry. Sounds became distant. “Here,” Cuteguy said, disturbed by the sound of his own voice that sounded distorted in a small, unsettling way. He blinked a few times to try to focus his eyes on the human figure held up by the living mycelium snaked around their middle.

Hotguy tore the tendrils apart, freeing the worker from his prison of fungus. As he put him over his shoulder, the organic matter reached out to him like a hand and he flinched back. “I… I feel like I'm going loopy,” he told Cuteguy. “That just happened, right?”

“Yeah… yeah,” Cuteguy affirmed as he glanced around nervously. “I'll find the other person. You get out of here.”

Hotguy started for the door and Cuteguy flew back into the air, searching for any sign of life, but he just couldn't find any. He went to the corners of the building and slashed through thick layers of mycelium caking the metal walls. As each chunk fell to the ground, it sunk into a smaller form for a little while before it gained life again.

Mycelium wrapped his shoes and he kicked it off again, doing his best to keep moving until he could find the person still stuck inside. All the while, his eyes were struggling to focus on anything. Vaguely human shaped forms seemed to be hidden under the mycelium and he desperately clawed away at it just to realize nothing was there at all.

Hotguy returned, holding a gadget in his hand. “Any luck?”

Cuteguy jumped, startled at the noise. “No, the mycelium is messing with my head.”

He held up the gadget and scanned around the room. “Let's see if the heat detector helps.”

Cuteguy grabbed his partner's arm and followed him down each walkway, twisting his head from side to side, hoping something would stick out.

The heat detector lit up red as they passed a large circuit, continuously lighting on and off. “In the middle.” Hotguy reported.

Sure enough, under a layer of mycelium, there was a person laying limp. Cuteguy picked him up, watching as the worker's white hair slowly shed the purple matter that floated off like pollen. “We…” Grian felt himself struggling to stand with the weight of a person and the loopy feeling that kept churning in his body. “Get out… let's get out.”

Hotguy nodded and led them out of the building, his power activated as evidenced by his glowing red eyes. Cuteguy gently lowered the worker to the ground, where he subsequently laid with his hands over his head in exhaustion and confusion.

“How's he looking?” Hotguy asked an officer.

“Not well. He's talking to himself about some strange… creature? I don't know.”

Hotguy paused for a moment and sighed. Cuteguy could almost picture the stupid face he was making, probably with a finger on his chin and pursed lips like a silly cartoon character. “I'd better take them to the Commission to get evaluated. With all the weirdness happening, we've got to bring everyone back to document and all that.” 

“I'll drive them for you,” the officer responded, and Cuteguy heard him walk off.

He heard a couple steps. “Hear that, Cutie?” 

He opened his eyes to see Hotguy holding out a hand for him. Being so disoriented, he decided it was best to just take it instead of try to prove a point- he wasn't flirting back with this stupid, dumb, idiotic guy .

-

The Hero Tower was quite the place to go after being in the dilapidated redstone factory. Polished marble walls in the main floor and geometric tile work everywhere. Oftentimes, it felt like being in a spy movie from the 50s, but with vibrant color everywhere.

After bringing the very disturbed people they'd retrieved to the psychological center, they stood down the hall for a moment to catch their breath.

“That was…”

“Weird.”

“Yeah…” Cuteguy leaned his shoulder against the wall and hung his head low. 

Hotguy took a step toward his partner, but stopped. Cuteguy didn't know why he stopped… he sort of wished he hadn't…

“What do we even report that as?” He asked, looking toward Hotguy with tired eyes.

Hotguy looked off for a moment. “Let's talk to some officials. I think that the head coordinator would cancel a couple plans for me.”

They took the trip down the halls, up elevators, and turned in 3 different circles because Hotguy wasn't completely sure where the office was. 

“You can ask someone,” Cuteguy told him.

“Absolutely not!”

Finally, they got in a room to wait for the esteemed Hero Coordinator to come in.

They sat next to each other at an awkwardly wide desk, on an awkwardly narrow bench across from it. In such close proximity, there wasn't room to avoid the fact that Grian was close to falling asleep sitting up. He leaned ever so slightly on Hotguy, a few feathers tickling his partner's chin.

“You smell like pasta,” he observed.

Grian was no longer about to fall asleep. “What?” He leaned away to look up at Hotguy.

“I don't know, maybe it's me, but it seems like you smell like some good old marinara sauce.”

“Wha…” He narrowed his eyes. “ That is what I smell like?”

Hotguy shrugged, “I don't think it's your usual smell.” He licked the back of his own hand and smelled it. “No, it's me. My breath smells like pasta.”

“Ew. When did you eat?”

Cuteguy held back a laugh as Hotguy put a finger to his chin and pursed his lips. He knew it. “Maybe an hour or two ago?” He cringed a little. “Not too good at times, you might notice.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Cuteguy huffed out a quiet laugh just as the coordinator walked in.

They both righted themselves to pay full attention to her. 

“How can I help you two today?”

Sharp. That was the best way to describe her. Crisp, angular clothes, and neatly styled blonde hair with a simple necklace. She held herself very straight forward. She looked like she had nothing to hide, but that was clearly untrue from the office environment. Nothing was out of place, so nothing could be put into the wrong hands. Grian guessed his hands were the wrong ones.

“So,” Hotguy started, deflating a little as he began speaking. “We’ve got a serious mycelium issue that looks really dangerous.”

“Yeah, the past few missions we’ve been on, everything is covered in mycelium and it seems like this type has some sort of powers? We’re not completely sure, but-”

“Mycelium? With powers?” She scrutinized.

Hotguy nodded. “Yes, when we were exploring the storm drains, the walls started glowing and things were so weird and flashy and-and-and-”

“The mycelium moves!” Grian chimed in.

“Yeah! Like it knows when a person is there. It will come up from the ground,” he mimed this, “and wrap around your feet and it feels like it tries to fight back when you kick it away.”

The coordinator looked on with a curious face, an uncomfortable air swirling between her and the Heroes as they waited for her to respond to their concerns.

“Seriously, the mycelium seems to have a mind of its own.”

She faintly smiled. “I’ve seen the way fungus acts. It sure is alive, but you have no need to worry about it.”

Hotguy shook his head. “No, there was a wolf-hybrid that bit his neck and almost killed him,” he said with exasperation. “It seemed like he was- I don’t know- possessed? And then there was someone who went crazy, and the only common thread right now is the mycelium!”

She leaned back in her chair with a slightly bemused look. “We can get this mycelium to the lab, but I doubt you’ll find anything. Find a different thread because I can guarantee you it is not some silly fungus.” She stood and started for the door. “I see your concern, but I can assure you that there is nothing you need to worry about with the mycelium.”

With that, she was gone.

-

A rooftop was probably the best place for work drama, at least that’s what Hotguy was collecting from how long they’d been up there looking over the city and talking shit. If he counted everything up, he’d spent an hour looking at Cuteguy, two hours talking to Cuteguy, thirty minutes looking over the city, and a solid 3 hours of thinking about how soft Cuteguy’s wings would feel around him right then.

“I swear, she couldn’t have cared less about whether I died or not!” He complained.

Hotguy rolled his eyes with a slight chuckle. “I think she doesn’t see what the heck is really going on.” He leaned a little closer to Cuteguy as they both leaned on the parapet. “I mean, look at your neck.” He dipped his head to see the light scars from the puncture holes of wolf teeth. “She’ll see the threat, I just hope it’s not when it’s already too late.”

Cuteguy looked down and made eye contact with his partner, whose brain was short-circuiting.

He could almost feel a hand snake around his waist and pull him into a gentle kiss. Wings wrapped around them both and he put his hand through Cuteguy’s hair.

“We can't wait till it's too late.”

Hotguy blinked a few times, readjusting himself back into the real world as he shoved down his overactive imagination. “Hey,” he redirected, “what did they say about the bite? And are you feeling alright?”

Cuteguy scratched lightly at the scars, and his wandering eyes betrayed his aversion to the question. “They really just told me to leave it alone and y’know rest and stuff.”

“Can't say our missions are very restful,” he pestered as he raised an eyebrow. Cuteguy glared at him. “So… what is the plan? Are you ignoring doctor's orders?” he teased.

He dragged his hands down his face and looked up into the sky. “Yep. Maybe if I stretch it, I'll scar like you.”

Hotguy laughed, “Oh really?” He poked the underside of his partner's chin.

Cuteguy leveled his head again to look at Hotguy with accusing eyes. He failed at hiding a smile and gently shoved him, to which Hotguy took a dramatic step back. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and cried “How could you do that to me?”

In return, Scar received a poke in the stomach. He dropped his jaw and stared accusingly at the perpetrator. “What are you gonna do about it?” Cuteguy started strutting off with all the sass his outfit warranted.

“Uh, uh, uh. Not so fast, birdy.” 

Hotguy pounced on him. Shocked as he came up empty handed, he whipped his head to see Cuteguy hanging from the trellis above them by his knees with his tongue out. 

“You-!” In a flash, Cuteguy was gone again. “Come on!” 

With all the grace of middle schoolers, they chased each other around the rooftops of Hermitopia. If he was being honest, Hotguy hadn’t felt that care-free sort of joy in a long time. He wasn’t unhappy, but there wasn’t anything else that made him forget for just a second, just a small little moment, that the void was sucking the life out of him. 

It had been a shock for his friends when he’d started using a cane, even more so when he showed up to work with a wheelchair. The issue was that he couldn’t tell them the truth without, well, telling them the truth . Sure, their sympathy for his condition was amazing and a huge help, but the double-life was hard to keep up in moments like that.

He didn’t know what it was about Cuteguy that made him feel so at home, but the warm fuzzy feeling that simmered in his stomach was blissful. He hoped the feeling was mutual.

“Okay, okay, I give up,” Hotguy chuckled, laying on the tile roof with his arms above his head, panting. 

Cuteguy ran circles around him at super speed, laughing.

“Alright, Cutie, you’re gonna give me a headache!” He grinned.

He stopped at Hotguy’s feet and kicked them, “Yeah, look at that, Hotguy! I can literally run circles around you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Hotguy kicked back. A performative gesture since he didn’t feel either of the kicks anyway. “Don’t know why I bothered chasing around a guy with super speed. My bad!”

Cuteguy shook his head with a smile and sat beside his partner. “Yeah, pretty stupid idea.”

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the stars and the chilly night air that nipped at their noses. 

“You’re my favorite stupid idea,” Hotguy said, startling the quiet air.

Cuteguy looked over at him with a genuinely quizzical look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Scar smiled. “I’ve got this stupid idea that I could have a chance with you.” He winked with his signature Hotguy smirk.

“Oh, yeah, that’s really stupid, even for you,” Cuteguy barked out a laugh. “You’re the opposite of my type.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think you were into girls with your whole get-up, honestly.” Hotguy shrugged. “I suppose assumptions are as bad as they say.”

Cuteguy took a long blink. “Well…”

Hotguy stared.

“You… were right on that count.”

“Ha!” He burst out, sitting up and pumping his fist in victory. “Boo-ya!”

Cuteguy let out a dramatic sigh, “Oh my Gods, I wasn’t even trying to talk about that!” He shoved Hotguy’s shoulder. “I like guys who actually use their brains, for one!”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I totally just inel-intal-innalec-” he laughed at his own stuttering before settling on “smarted that just now!”

Cuteguy rolled his eyes with amusement, “You smarted it, huh?”

“Yes, I did!” He held up a finger and moved his head from side to side, a very diva action, which followed in Cuteguy’s very cute boot-steps.

Cuteguy shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t see what I’m supposed to be attracted to here.”

Hotguy gaped, “Oh, you’re playing that game?” He flexed his biceps, “You’re just lying at this point!”

“Not a big fan of muscles,” Cuteguy shrugged. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t think I’m funny, though!”

“You’re funny at your own expense most of the time.”

“Come on! What about my gorgeous hair? I put a lot of effort into these locks!”

“I can admit that your hair is amazing, but that’s it.”

“One date?” Hotguy stuck out his bottom lip. “Please?”

“Fat chance.” Cuteguy stood up, and walked to the ledge. He waved with a sweet smile on his face. “Next time you ask, I’m contacting HR.”

“Yea, and I’ll tell HR you bully me!”

Cuteguy snorted and flew off.

-

“Hey, partner!” Scar dipped an invisible cowboy hat to Grian as he entered his office.

“Howdy!” Grian tipped his own invisible hat back. 

“Sorry about lunch yesterday, I totally forgot about my appointment!” He began. “Like you’d think that the doctor’s office would send like an email or a text message beforehand, y’know? I mean, I’m not the most remember-ful kinda guy! I barely remember what I ate this morning and they expect me to remember a whole appointment? Come on! I forget what class I’m teaching half the time. These doctors know me and I don’t understand how they haven’t learned that my ADHD is an un-movable object and I am just a victim of this crazy thought process of mine! I have tried meds, y’know, but they really don’t work with my other meds and it’s super weird and I think that maybe I should just get a personal assistant because I know I cannot spare the no-show charges. Like they charge me for the whole appointment I didn’t even go to! I think that’s what’s wrong with this country. Such greedy people in this horrible capitalist system. I don’t have a single day to rest or have fun without having to dish out some money for it! I mean, think about that from a transportation perspective- I know I talk about it a lot, but you see it, too, right? I can’t even go down the street in some neighborhoods because the sidewalks are so damaged that my chair gets stuck, then if I try to take the bus, they don’t train their drivers right- oh my Gods, don’t even get me started on the horrible schedules! How am I supposed to get anywhere when they only send a bus every 30 minutes? If we were in Switzerland, we would be in the middle of nowhere and have a train coming every 10 minutes! It’s absolutely ridiculous how bad the transportation system is here, and the taxes-”

“Scar.”

He stopped and looked at Grian with a half open mouth. “Okay, no talk on taxes?”

Grian laughed, “No, I was just trying to get your attention because you were really rambling.” He got out two microwave lunches. “Maybe we should try to use at least a bit of our break to eat.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea!” Scar giggled. “What did you end up doing for lunch yesterday? I didn’t mean to leave you all alone like that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he blushed. “I was just… y’know… hanging with the cuz.”

“Really? I talked to Jimmy earlier and he said you left early yesterday.” Scar tilted his head to the side like a cute little puppy and Grian worried his face was getting redder.

“Well, yeah! But I hung out with him before I left. I just needed to do some errands, y’know. Post office and all that.” Grian tried to wave it off.

“Oooh, what did you need to do at the post office?” Grian regretted trying to wave it off the way he did.

“I… I saw Pearl… she’s doing well. I just needed to… um… get a passport renewal.”

WHAT AM I EVEN SAYING?! PASSPORT RENEWAL?! AT THIS POINT, I SHOULD JUST LEAVE INSTEAD OF DIG MYSELF INTO THIS STUPID HOLE.

“Oh, do you have U.S. citizenship now?” Scar asked excitedly.

“No. Permanent resident stuff. Had to get my passport mailed from the UK and… stuff…”

“Oh, that reminds me of my point on taxes! So-”

-

Grian knocked on the door to an apartment he'd never been to before.

Sure, he knew what he was getting himself into, but he didn't know know. The only reason he didn't immediately say no to a social gathering with people he barely knew was because Scar had asked him. 

He couldn't refuse Scar if he asked him most things! He wasn't crazy enough to say he would jump into a pool of boiling water if he asked, but he sure would boil him some water and make him tea or coffee or hot chocolate or whatever his heart desired! 

Joel, the guy from the sushi place, opened the door and grinned, “Hey, loser, get in here,” he joked. “We've got a few games out, and we're debating which one to play.”

He walked in and there was the living room with Scar sitting on an armchair, where Lizzie was sat on the arm trying to keep Scar still enough that she could put mascara on him. Oh my Gods, he’s so cute what the heck… On the floor, there was Tango, Jimmy, and Mumbo chatting together. On the couch sat… the Commission photographer? She was right next to a guy with all white hair and a mask covering the bottom of his face. 

“Welcome in our fresh meat!” Joel announced to applause.

“Devour!”

“Tear him apart!”

Grian looked around uncomfortably for a second. “What kind of underground battling ring are you running?” He asked, trying to shift attention from himself.

“Grian!” Scar called from the chair between harsh blinks at the unfamiliar feeling of mascara. 

Grian smiled. “What's up, Scar?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH.

“I hope you'll let us play some exploding kittens today,” he said as he waved the other over. “I'll let you win if you vote for it with me.”

Grian laughed and shook his head. “You're so good at that game, it feels rigged.”

“Yeah, Scar! Filthy cheater, you are!” Jimmy called out.

Scar scoffed and shook his head, “I am no such thing!”

Lizzie grabbed some blush and started tapping it on Scar's cheeks. Grian couldn't tear his eyes away. He looked so cute. He had brown eyeshadow around his green eyes and the mascara made his eyelashes look more cute than they did before, and the slight smile on his face while Lizzie lightly brushed his cheeks pink was so adorable. Grian could have melted.

Joel put a hand on Grian's shoulder. “Alright, time to introduce you to the dungeon.” Grian startled a little and followed Joel's gaze. “So that's Gem and Etho,” he said, pointing to the Commission photographer and her masked counterpart. “And obviously you know those goobers” he pointed to Jimmy, Tango, and Mumbo. “And finally you get to see Lizzie in the flesh!”

Lizzie stood up and left the blush on the coffee table, a big grin on her face. “Hey, Grian, good to meet you! Scar keeps talking about you, y'know.”

Grian blinked. “He does?” What kind of talk?! Like he’s gossiping about me or saying that I suck or-

Scar nodded with his full face of makeup, looking like an anime girl. “All good things!”

“Did you want tea?” Lizzie asked.

Grian worried that there was a blush on his face. “Yeah… yeah that'd be great.”

“I'll go get you a cup, get comfy,” she said before walking to the kitchen. 

He felt pretty stared at. Unfamiliar places weren't his thing, so he sat by the most familiar people, taking his space between Jimmy and Mumbo. 

Jimmy tousled his hair and leaned in to whisper mischievously in his ear, “Scar's looking kinda cute, huh?”

Grian shoved him into Tango, “Talk to your husband, loser!”

Scar giggled. “What'd he say?” 

Grian's face must have lit bright red if the tightening of his chest was any indicator. “He's just being mean to me,” he glared at Jimmy. “As usual.”

Mumbo nodded, “Yeah, Jimmy is surprisingly ferocious.” He took a sip of his tea. “By the way, where have you been, man? I haven't been able to talk to you for more than a few texts for the last… two months?” 

Grian cringed internally. Hero-ing was a big commitment, and he had totally neglected other parts of his life because of it. “I've been really busy with classes. I'm teaching a new one this semester, so I've been making all new material. It's… it's time consuming.”

Mumbo shrugged. “If you say so.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don't believe you,” Mumbo whispered.

He furrowed his brows, “Well, I can tell you more later,” he gritted through his teeth.

To his relief, Joel clapped his hands and sat at the end of the coffee table, “Alright everyone, let's get the suggestions and a vote going.”

Lizzie immediately chimed in, “I want some kiss, marry, kill as a warm up. Get the banter going, y’know.”

OH MY GODS LIZZIE I DON'T KNOW YOU ENOUGH TO SAY I HATE YOU, BUT THIS IS NOT A GOOD START, Grian screamed internally.

Joel nodded, “that's a good idea. How says ye, commoners?”

“Aye!” Almost everyone said in a flurry. Those excluded from the pronouncement, Grian, Gem, and Etho were clearly out-voted, and while Grian was sure he was pale as can be, Gem just rolled her eyes.

“Yay!” Lizzie exclaimed. She adjusted on the floor, grabbing a pillow to sit on. “Who wants to make the first prompt?” 

Jimmy raised his hand, “I've got a good one!” He counted off each person with his fingers as he went, “Alright, so kiss, marry, kill: Aladdin, Beast, and Flynn Rider.”

Tango shook his head, “Love, that's not even a hard one, everyone is gonna kill Beast, kiss Aladdin, and marry Flynn Rider.”

A few people hummed in agreement.

“Okay, okay, how about Beast, Prince Charming, and John Smith?” 

“That's disgusting!” Lizzie laughed.

Jimmy smiled and nudged Tango, “You go first.”

“Oh, geez,” he shook his head. “I think that I have to kill John Smith… I mean, it's John Smith. He probably has scurvy from going three months at sea to claim already occupied land. Then, I think I'd marry Prince Charming, because I mean, he went after Cinderella and found her based on her shoe, I think he's dependable. And a huge castle is definitely a perk. So then I'd kiss Beast… unwillingly, but if I must.”

After a few rounds of rambling and laughing, it was Gem's turn to make a prompt. “Alright, alright, so! Kiss, marry, kill: Hotguy, Cuteguy, and Tek.”

Grian almost factory reset. Unbeknownst to him, there were similar feelings shared around the room. Of COURSE the photographer for the Commission would choose that. OH MY GODS HOW DO I EVEN ANSWER THAT?!

Etho shook his head, “Gem, I don't… I get that you take pictures of them all the time, but that's a bit weird.”

“Oh, come on, it's all silly! Just answer it.”

“Fine…” he searched around the room with his eyes for a moment. “Kiss Hotguy, marry Tek, and kill Cuteguy.”

Ouch, Grian noted in his head as he laughed.

Jimmy was next. “Well I'd definitely marry Tek!” He said, and Tango shook his head. 

“You don't love me,” he pouted as he leaned his head on his husband's shoulder.

Jimmy rolled his eyes with a grin. “Kiss Cuteguy, and well, it's sad, but kill Hotguy.”

Tango shook his head, “I'd switch Hotguy and Cuteguy.”

“Why?” Jimmy asked.

“I don't know all that much about Cuteguy yet. It's been what? Two weeks?”

“Oh, yeah, that's right. I see your point.”

Grian was next…

Oh my Gods this is so embarrassing. “I'd kiss Tek, marry Cuteguy, and kill Hotguy.”

“Ooo, first Cuteguy marriage!” Gem chimed in.

Does she… could she know I'm Cuteguy? Does she know identities?! I don't know if that would be allowed… I shouldn't worry about that right now or I'm gonna freak myself out. Focus, Grian.

Mumbo chimed in, “Well, I think it's a pretty obvious choice to marry Hotguy, then kiss Cuteguy, and kill Tek.” He shrugged, “no offense to Tek, but there's a reason Hotguy and Cuteguy have those names!”

Scar laughed, “I'd have to marry Cuteguy, honestly.”

FACTORY FUCKING RESET OH MY GODS HE THINKS ME- CUTEGUY- IS THE BEST OPTION. I CANNOT HANDLE THIS- HE LIKES ME!

“Kiss Tek and kill Hotguy, that old loser.”

Gem dropped her jaw, “Wow, I'm not appreciating the Hotguy slander!”

“He's such a loser!” Scar insisted. “I mean, he's washed up, right? Like he's totally been getting worse. That's why they brought in Cuteguy!”

Gem shook her head, “No! Hotguy is perfectly capable, you're just being a hater.”

-

It was a long night of playing games and joking and making friends. At this point, Scar was getting a bit tired, but he really didn't want the night to end. 

He wasn't sure when he'd made the transfer to the floor and joined Jimmy, Tango, Grian, and Mumbo, but there he was with his dice in hand. He rolled… “Welp, there goes my bard.”

“Your rolls are embarrassing for me, Scar,” Lizzie laughed behind the DM barrier.

Scar closed his eyes, leaned back and rolled over to lay in his friends’ laps. His legs were laid over Jimmy and Tango, and his head was in Grian's lap, where he raised a hand to his forehead in dramatized turmoil. “I am cursed by the Gods and forever can- will- um- I will suffer forever!”

Grian giggled above him and Scar smiled lightly to himself. His laugh is adorable , he thought.

After a little while, Scar started to doze off and he felt his head shift so that now his cheek was supported by Grian's tummy.

He heard little whispers from Jimmy and Tango, but he was too tired to make them out or care. He just fell asleep using his best friend's lap as a pillow- a quite comfortable one, he might add.

Chapter Text

“Morning, Scar!” Lizzie sung out as she made her morning coffee.

Scar looked around, a little disoriented. That's right, I stayed here last night. He wiggled in the super soft blanket they'd given him in delight. “Morning, Lizzie,” he yawned back. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

He nodded. “Veeerrryyy comfy couch.”

“Did you want a coffee?”

“I really shouldn't,” he laughed. “Last time I had coffee, Grian told me I was going off the rails.”

Lizzie came into the room and sat on her recliner with her mug and a smile. “Speaking of Grian…” she giggled. “What's up with you two?”

Scar sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

An unimpressed gaze settled on Scar and he shrugged with wide eyes. “You and Grian were too cute together! Are you dating?”

Scar spluttered. “What?! Why- Joel told you about our lunch, didn't he? It wasn't a date! We're just coworkers!”

“Just coworkers?” Lizzie raised an eyebrow.

“Well, no, we're good friends, too. We just aren't anywhere near a couple-” he defended.

“Yet you fell asleep in his lap…”

Scar shook his head. “Lizzie, you are too much of a romantic. I am not dating anyone, and no one is on the roster.”

“If you say so!” She shrugged and smiled. Scar could see the mischievous glint in her eyes.

“He's a civil engineer, I'm an architect. Those are classically sworn enemies! You're lucky we didn't get in a fist fight over struts last night,” he told her. 

“That sounds gay… struts? Since when do builders care about cat walks?”

Scar put his face in his hands. “Lizzie! Structural struts! They keep things from falling apart!”

She snickered. “Yeah, I know.”

Scar fell back onto the couch with a dramatic hand over his forehead. “This is far too early for you to mess with my fragile brain,” he cried in a horrible British accent.

“Ew.”

Lizzie burst out laughing as Joel rounded the corner with a grimace.

“Scar, I need you to stop trying to do that. It's physically painful to me,” Joel remarked as he flicked Scar's nose.

Scar smiled. “Bo'el o’ wo'er!”

-

Scar,

I can't keep watching you neglect yourself. Bring your suit in. I'll work on it and we can talk. I won't be able to sleep until I know you're at least taking steps to take care of yourself. Really, Scar, that's all I want. Please talk to me.

Cub

-

Cuteguy was back to not being able to stand his ‘superhero’ partner.

Things were calm around town, which unfortunately meant that Hotguy was anything but. He'd already brought him flowers twice “because these look like your eyes, and these are your shade of pink!” He'd used his grappling hook 4 times- all of which looked incredibly clumsy to him, probably because he could do those moves with the smallest flex of his wings. Worst of all, Hotguy didn't stop talking. Every moment of patrols was overlaid with incredibly unimportant yapping with no rhyme nor reason nor continuity, frankly. 

“Cutie, did you see that new movie?” 30 seconds later, “So that's the story of when I saved people from some violent diners in Hungry Hermits.” 30 seconds later, “Did you know that keyboards used to be arranged alphabetically?” 

“Hotguy…”

“I'm serious!”

Cuteguy rolled his eyes. “I don't care about the keyboards. Can you please let us patrol quietly? We can't catch anyone if they all hear you coming a mile away.”

“Oh!” Hotguy grinned and sat down on the ledge of the roof, silently inviting Cuteguy to sit by him with a couple pointed glances.

Cuteguy crossed his arms and glared.

“Oh, come on, birdy!” He pulled out his spyglass from his utility belt. “I already did the patrols. I was just trying to get you here so you could see…” He looked through his spyglass for a moment before he frowned and stood back up to walk to the other side of the roof where his eyes lit up. “There!”

Cuteguy looked to where Hotguy pointed, right above the next building. There was a red dot in the sky. “Okay…?”

“It's Mars!” He peered through his spyglass and stared in awe for a few seconds before handing it to Cuteguy. “Look, look, it's really pretty.”

Despite himself, Cuteguy looked. This is amazing. He could see details of the planet and the way the atmosphere gave it a little halo of red light. He could see the dark spots littering the surface from thousands- no, millions!- of years getting battered by rogue space rocks. 

“Wh-why?” He managed to spit out as he lowered the spyglass.

“What do you mean, ‘why’?”

Cuteguy handed back the spyglass and crossed his arms again. “You led me around for hours pretending to do a patrol you already did?”

“For good reason!” Hotguy grinned his admittedly handsome grin.

The glint in Cuteguy's eyes was half annoyance at the idiot before him and the other half annoyance at the idiot he was for thinking the first idiot was handsome. “You're telling me we didn't have to go 2 miles- on foot, because you can't fly- down this stupid patrol path?!”

Hotguy bent down to his partner's eye level. Boop! “Yes, yes I am.”

Cuteguy smacked the Hero with his wing and kicked his feet out from under him. With another snarling face down at the now horizontal and giggling man, he started pacing and checking his comm. 

“At least tell me you liked seeing Mars,” Hotguy huffed with amusement as he picked himself up. 

His threatening gaze had no effect on Hotguy's perennial smile. 

Gods, this idiot! Why did he waste our time like that? Now I have to see what else is needed. I can't believe how slow this week has been, I mean it's way too quiet-

CRASH

“Hello? Are you okay?” Hotguy called down as he rushed down a fire escape. 

Cuteguy followed and landed beside Hotguy in the alley, facing a cute little stray cat. “What… what was the sound?”

“I don't know… I just heard it and… I don't think it was this little guy…” Hotguy said as he approached the cat and knelt down. He reached a gentle hand out and waited for the cat to sniff it before he carefully pet its head. “This poor thing doesn't look like a trouble maker.”

Cuteguy searched around the alley with only his eyes. It was about 7 feet wide, which was definitely claustrophobic for his wings. Even with his sharp eyes, he could only see about 30 feet in each direction.  It was an oddly long alley with a few paths branching off from this one. “I don't like this spot.”

“Maybe we should get you out of here, hm kitty?” His baby voice was slightly obnoxious ( and slightly adorable- WHO SAID THAT ) to Cuteguy, but he could tell he wouldn't have to deal with it for much longer, because the cat ran as soon as he tried to pick it up. “Hey, where you going?”

He started following the cat, and a few strange things happened all at once.

First, the cat seemed to disappear into thin air.

Second, the light from the moon and stars dimmed to black.

Third, the feeling of eyes watching them slowly crawled and latched onto their skin like leeches.

Fourth, and most definitely the worst one, there were eyes blinking on the walls. At first, they just looked like the graffiti they'd seen in the storm drain, but then the 2D forms started moving.

Cuteguy spread his wings, ready to fly out, but there wasn't enough room in the tiny alleyway. He then searched in the dark for Hotguy, unable to remember when he'd lost sight of him. “Hotguy, where are you?”

In response, there was a raggedy breath and, “I'm right here.” His arm knocked into his partner's and he grabbed his hand with a vice grip.

Cuteguy used his very limited sight to identify what spots to avoid, which was proving quite useless when his shin slammed into crates and boxes more times than he'd like to count.

All around, there were forms of people, of eyes, of hands reaching for them. The grip on each other's hands was the only thing they knew was real. They hit a dead end and Cuteguy chose to turn left without any real consideration. He simply ran and dragged Hotguy with him. 

Suddenly, he saw a person directly in front of him. He froze and pulled Hotguy to his side, wrapping the shaking man in his wing. He hissed at the figure and flexed his talons. 

No reaction. The figure was perfectly still. Perfectly symmetrical. Perfectly dark and obscured. Not even the glowing eyes and symbols all over the walls illuminated a single bit of the person in front of him.

It's not real .

“We're running again,” he murmured to Hotguy, bringing his wing back. Launching off his heel, he tore right through the illusion and only a few seconds later, found he'd made it to a street. The wide open area had no distortions, the sky was normal again, and no more glowing eyes, even when he looked back.

He found a spot on the stairs to a building where he sat Hotguy down. The Hero laid back and heaved in short breaths with a hand on his chest and eyes wrenched shut. 

“You're safe, you're safe, we're safe,” Cuteguy affirmed as he whipped his head from side to side in search of another threat.

Scar pulled Cuteguy in by the waist and hid his face in the black fabric of his partner's top. Cuteguy looked down uncomfortably at the man currently clinging to his middle like a scared kid. He pet his hair slowly, looking off into nowhere as he did. He felt bad… he felt like an asshole, too. If he was honest with himself, he thought, Hotguy really shouldn't be out here. There's so much happening, I can't believe he's gone this long without a partner.

That's when Hotguy let go, stood, and drew his bow. “Let's go get that thing.”

“No, no, no,” Cuteguy repeated as he grabbed Hotguy's wrist. “You're… you're not ready.”

Hotguy furrowed his eyebrows. “I'm ready,” he asserted.

Cuteguy looked at him with pleading eyes. “Did you see that? Did you see yourself? ”

Hotguy breathed slowly. “I'm not that. I am not the coward you've seen me be.” He squeezed Cuteguy's hand, and brought it up to his lips for a faint kiss.

He walked right back into the darkness. Grian was stunned. Silence rang around his skull and down his spine and he realized just how little he really knew about Hotguy. Why was he trying so hard to prove he was a Hero? He's falling apart.

Another loud crash broke his trance and Cuteguy jumped right back into action. 

In the darkness again, it seemed that new people formed and disappeared in seconds before reappearing somewhere else. Cuteguy pulled out the dagger from his pocket and used it to slice at any odd form that reached for him. Hotguy wasn't in sight, but he could hear his battling breaths.

He could hear two sets of footsteps approaching. A pivot on his heel had him face to face with eyes. They looked 2D and pop art style and yet when Grian went to step past, a massive force stopped him. Intense, unforgiving hands groped in search of something to grab, his face, his weapons. He elbowed the force, breaking free and stumbling to the ground. Tendrils of mycelium wrapped around his hands and he shrieked, pulling his hands away. 

Again, hands wrapped around him. He was pulled to his feet and something stroked his wings. He whipped around with a knife in hand, and was met with Hotguy's face, already bleeding before his blade made contact. He flinched away as the knife poked a little at his skin. Cuteguy returned his weapon to his side.

“I'm sorry, I just needed to make sure it was you,” he explained, putting his hands on Cuteguy's face and in his hair, as if checking for something that would prove what he was touching wasn’t an illusion. He turned and shouted into the darkness, “Show yourself!”

Mycelium climbed up the walls and configured itself into tall black forms with glowing purple eyes surrounding the two.

Hotguy turned to Cuteguy with a determined but worried face, his eyes glowing an intense scarlet. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he blinked and the glow was gone in an instant. It was then that the mycelium figures collapsed into piles. Like snakes, tendrils of the fungus slithered toward them and started wrapping around their feet.

“We need to get out of here,” Cuteguy exclaimed. He grabbed Hotguy under the arms and shot them into the air at super speed, their bodies torn away from the mycelium's grip. 

Just as fast as they went up, they found themselves falling again. They smacked down hard on the roof of the building they'd been on before descending into that small pit of hell. 

“Ah, ow, ow, ow,” Cuteguy sobbed between pained hoots. Hotguy had taken the fall for both of them, since they'd been clinging on to each other and he was the heavier side of the pair. Cuteguy was crying on his chest and he cradled his head as he sat up.

“Hey, hey, birdy are you okay? What's wrong?” He fretted, trying to get his partner into a seated position as his head ached from the disorienting alleyway and the force of the fall.

“My wing-” he gasped when he tried to adjust it. “It's… it's broken, I think.”

Hotguy choked on his words as he tried to find something to say. “I-I- Oh my Gods- uh- uh- I need to- Let's get you out of here! I- I- I think I can get you to the emergency ward pretty quick? I don't know- I- how can I help?” His hands were all over the place, checking for other parts of Cuteguy that could be hurt, and they flew back to his chest when his partner hissed at him.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Cuteguy sped out. “Just- just get me to the ER,” he leaned into Hotguy's touch now and made a sad attempt at slowing his breath. 

Hotguy stood quickly, carrying Cuteguy bridal style as he shouted orders to his comm and sped across rooftops. “Connect to Tek, message code red, Cuteguy has been seriously injured and we need assistance now, please send a car to the corner of Scott's and Tots Avenue and Mounder's.”

Cuteguy was beyond embarrassed. Being seen like this with Hotguy seemed like the worst humiliation he could get. Still, he felt a little sense of gratitude. Sure, it was his partner that had gotten them into that whole mess in the first place, but he still saved him! Why am I defending this loser?! He knew why. The first reason was embarrassing, but the second one was unfortunate. It felt cruel. It felt like the worst thing he could possibly say to the idiot. So he wouldn't.

Within minutes, a Commission ambulance arrived and Hotguy helped his partner into the vehicle and onto a gurney.

“Hold in there, Cutie,” he said as he pet his hair, sweaty from the fight. 

His coos of pain were only getting more frequent when the medics began doing all sorts of stuff to his wings that were right on track to send him into full-on defense mode. Cuteguy grabbed Hotguys hand like a lifeline and squeezed. 

Mentally, to stay present, Hotguy blocked out everyone but his partner. Noises blared around him and he tightened his jaw and didn't make an effort to understand it all. His breathing was slow and steady as if it would calm Cuteguy down through osmosis. He squeezed his hands back and let the pressure keep him grounded, too. 

He lowered his voice and leaned against the bed. “I've got you, birdy.”

-

It was 3 am. Cuteguy was in the largest room they had at the Commission hospital and he was spreading his wings out as far as he could. His left wing was broken. It couldn't be healed, apparently. There's some sort of rule or regulation about attempting to heal bones with magic and how avains had the highest chance of losing function from improper bone healing and apparently there wasn't a loophole that he could use because he's a Hero and he kinda needs his wings to work?

So here he was with a splint on his wing that pushed into some feathers, testing the limits of how much discomfort he could take. Retracting his wings? Impossible. Spreading his wings out? Impossible. Flying for the next month? Impossible!

He paced back and forth and picked at his skin and tensed and untensed parts of his body, all in the hope that maybe something would calm him down.

“Hey… uh… Cutie?” 

Hotguy was standing in the doorway, meek eyes struggling to meet his face.

“Don't call me that,” Cuteguy snarled. His face was vicious, his feathers puffed up, and his presence doubled in size as he approached his partner. “You are the stupidest, most unbelievably air-headed person I've ever met. You looked at that cursed alley and decided to walk right back in even after you were clinging onto me like a little kid?!”

Hotguy closed his eyes and held his breath.

“Why do you make my life so hard? It seems like every time I do something, you turn around and undo it and ruin any advantage we could have had,” he spat out. “Am I here just to fix your mistakes? Is that why they assigned me to you? Because the big bad ‘Hero' can't do a thing for himself?” 

“I… I'm sorry…”

“You better be! I broke my wing saving your ass!” He grabbed Hotguy by the collar, brought him close, and bared his teeth until Hotguy opened his eyes again. “Next time, I'll let you find your own way out.” He shoved him out of the room and slammed the door in his face.

Hotguy stood there motionless for… he wasn't sure. A long time, probably. Maybe? He didn't know anything anymore. Well… he thought he knew one thing.

Cuteguy's right.

-

“Hey, Cub,” Scar said as he hobbled into his apartment, carrying 40 pounds worth of superhero gear on his back.

Cub immediately removed the weight from him, and noticed how much better he could walk after he did. “Hey, man. What's up?” 

“Um, y'know,” he shrugged with puffy red eyes and a sad smile, “the usual.”

“I don't think you're convincing anyone with that, bud.”

With a louder than expected bang as Cub placed the duffle bag on his table, the two sat facing each other. The dim light of the evening filtered through the blinds and cast Scar in gold. His eyes locked on his worrying hands, and he leaned heavily against the back of the chair that he sat sideways in.

“Heard about the crazy stuff that happened last night,” Cub said, "you hanging in there?” 

Scar took a long moment to respond. Cub sat still, a gentle gaze over his friend. “How much did you hear about?”

“They told me that your comms malfunctioned for some time. When they asked you what happened, you said it was a mycelium infested area that caused some sort of blindness? And people were attacking you and then Cuteguy got hurt,” he recalled. “I think that's it.”

Scar nodded, his eyes unfocused and distant. “Yeah… I don't know what was going on… I was just really stupid.” He hugged himself slightly and Cub's chest tightened.

Something was beyond the regular amount of wrong.

He stood up. “Come here,” he said.

Scar looked up at him with sad confusion in his glassy eyes. “... why?”

“It's couch time.” 

Scar watched Cub walk to and plop down onto the couch. He forced himself up, legs shaking with effort, and went the few steps to the couch with his cane. He sat back on the couch with a wince and a deep grimace. 

“Tell me.”

Scar looked at him with heavy eyes. “Tell you what?”

Cub's response was an unwavering stare of skepticism.

“Fine…” Scar sighed. “I didn't take any potions today because I've been crying and forgot.” 

Cub silently got up and went to his medicine cabinet. All Scar could hear from the couch was a series of clinks and clanks and cabinets opening and closing that stopped after a minute or so. 

Cub rounded the corner and placed a basket full of things on the coffee table. “Open wide,” he said with his usual monotone voice, and pushed a spoon full of applesauce toward Scar.

‘I don't-” Cub shoved the spoon in his mouth as soon as he got the chance. Scar took the spoon from him and swallowed the stupid applesauce. “Hey!”

“Eat.” Cub said as he sorted through the basket he brought. He took out an instant healing potion, a sleep potion, and a regeneration potion. “You can't take these till you've eaten. What do you want?”

Scar began to protest, “Cub, really, I don't need you to-”

“Shut up.” Cub leveled an unimpressed face. “Food.”

“I'm being serious-” 

Cub brought a silencing finger to Scar's face. “ Food. ” 

He frowned. “Spaghetti.”

“Okay.”

While Cub cooked, Scar sat on the couch and decided to make himself comfortable. He reclined the seat and threw a blanket over himself and leaned into the cushions. To keep himself awake, he put on Brooklyn Nine-Nine and half-watched, half-ruminated. Every few minutes his vision would go blurry as he found himself lost in thought again and he had to snap his focus back to the silly cop show. 

Carrying two bowls of spaghetti, Cub sat beside Scar on the couch and handed him one. “Sorry it's not Grian's, but I tried.”

Scar gave a light laugh. “Oh, you torture me so,” he joked with a soft voice.

They ate for a while in silence, watching Jake completely screw up a case yet again. When they were done, Cub washed the dishes and returned to Scar's side.

“Now, you're getting healed up,” Cub said as he handed Scar the instant healing potion. 

Scar did a small salute. “Aye, aye, captain.” He downed the potion and shuddered. He leaned back and let the feeling of hot and cold and buzzing go around his body as he screwed his eyes shut.

Cub took the empty glass from Scar's hand and set it back on the table. “Think you can take the regen?”

“Yeah, yeah, just give it,” Scar mumbled, holding his hand out.

Another one down the hatch.

It felt like a stream of ice cold water was flowing through his veins while fire raged in his hands and feet and stomach and heart. He shivered and curled in on himself as he waited for the feeling to pass.

He flinched a little when he felt Cub put a hand on his shoulder.

Two or three minutes passed. Scar opened his eyes and sat up, Cub returned his hand to his lap.

“Feeling okay?”

Scar scratched his neck. “Mostly…” He glanced around for a second and then spoke again. “I didn't get healed last night.” 

Cub narrowed his eyebrows. “What happened?”

“I got… clawed a lot. Just some cuts on my arms and back. Some from Cuteguy trying to save me and some from whatever was in that alley.”

Cub reached for his basket. “I've got some topical healing potions-”

“No, no, I've had enough of that feeling today.” Scar shook his head repeatedly.

Cub glared at him.

3

2

1

“Fine! I have a numbing one in my room,” he relented.

Cub left the apartment without a word and Scar waited with bated breath. Dreadfully, the door clicked open and closed again, and Cub returned yet again to his side.

“This one?”

Scar nodded.

“You said you've got gashes on your back?”

Scar shook his head. “Just glorified scratches, don't worry about it.”

Another stare.

“Fine… but… I don't want to talk about… them.”

Cub nodded. “We won't talk about your wings.”

Scar took off his shirt and turned so that Cub could heal the cuts that threatened to scar his back more than it already was. 

Every moment that passed, Scar felt a small drop of shame drip on him and flow down his head and get caught in his throat. 

Every moment that passed, Cub debated what he could say that would finally make Scar let himself be just Scar.

“Remember…” Scar started, speaking hesitantly, “when you took me to the doctor… last month?’

Cub hummed in confirmation.

“I…” He seemed to choke on his words as he breathed out the horrible words. “I had a panic attack because the doctor told me… to retire.”

Cub paused for a moment. “Oh.”

They sat in silence as Cub continued to coat Scar's skin in the healing cream. The only sound was the low volume on the TV, splicing in jokes to their serious situation.

“Scar, I want you to be happy,” Cub sighed. “I'm just worried that you're chasing the wrong thing.” He leaned away and let Scar know he was done. “You're hurting. Every time you come to me, I see that you're stressed and unhappy. I know that it's your dream to be an amazing Hero, but that doesn't have to involve being the most popular Hero out there.”

Scar shook his head to protest. “I'm not the most popular-”

“Yes you are!” Cub argued. “You're basically the face of the Commission. When people ask, ‘who's your favorite hero?’ what do they all say? Hotguy!” Scar opened his mouth to protest again, but Cub didn't let him. “This image you've made is amazing, but your void exposure isn't getting better. There's no shame in the fact that you got hurt in a fight. It happens all the time. Sometimes it means you're out of the game.”

“I'm not out of the game.”

“Okay, but you can at least let yourself take a different role.”

Scar blew out a breath and Cub watched the fight leave his body as his shoulders slumped. “I really should.” He dragged his hands over his face before he reached down to pull up the ankle of his sweatpants and reveal the blackened skin above his sock. “It's not fair,” his voice cracked. Ragged breaths escaped his throat and he tried to blink away the tears coming to his eyes.

Cub opened his arms and let Scar fall into his arms and sob. Heavy cries scratched his throat and Cub squeezed him tight. He touched his wing on accident and moved his hand up. Scar's wings twitched and another sob wracked his body.

“He…” hiccup “He told me that I'm-” gasp “I'm useless, and-” gulp “I ruin everything.” 

Cub furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out who he was talking about. Cuteguy. His face hardened in anger. Pulling Scar closer to him and petting his head, Cub shook his head. “Scar, you're not useless at all. You don't ruin everything. You've been an amazing Hero for… what? Nine years? Don't listen to that asshole.”

“Hey!” Scar sniffled. “Don't call him that.”

“I can call him whatever the hell I want to.”

-

A few hours later, Scar had fallen asleep in the little cocoon he made on the couch, face calmer than Cub had seen it in months. His hair sprawled over the pillow Cub gave him and it wasn't hard to notice the grey hairs that were starting to peek through the chestnut brown.

Cub sighed and went to the kitchen where he paced. Back and forth. Same straight face.

He grabbed his comm.

“Hey, Cub, what's up?”

“What happened last night?”

“... what?”

“You heard me.”

“Well, Cuteguy broke his wing, that's about all I know. I wasn't there.”

“Tek, if you're not on every single mission with Hotguy from now on, I am going to kill Cuteguy with my bare hands.”

“Woah! What is it that I don't know about?!”

Beep.

Chapter Text

Incoming call - THE BIG GUNS

Scar jumped awake at the sound of his phone playing the special ringtone for the Commission- the Darth Vader theme. He scrambled to the other side of the couch and picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this a good time for you?”

He looked side to side, checking his surroundings. Just the regular old messy and dark interior of Cub's apartment. “Sure is…”

“Okay. Due to recent circumstances, the Commission needs you to be available for emergencies at all times. The sensitive nature of this case requires you to stay in Commission accommodations until this problem is sorted out. 

“A leave notice has already been sent to your place of employment and anything that needs to be taken care of while you're gone will be paid for by the Commission. The accommodations provided to you will include anything you might need and food is on an ordering basis, so you may request ingredients for the kitchen or order food from a restaurant of your choice. 

“Additionally, daily meetings with coordinators and scientists will be a part of this process as we try to figure out what is making this disaster happen. We expect you at Hero Tower by 9pm tonight. Do you have any questions?”

Scar stared out the window with his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw hanging open. Every word he tried to get out of his throat was choked on and he sat up with a slow, contemplative breath. “What?”

“Was there a bad connection?”

“No… no… I just… Why do I have to stop my daily life?” He pulled his phone away from his face and confirmed… they were really calling out THE BIG GUNS, he guessed.

“The case you've been following is progressing quickly and the Commission needs you at arm's reach so that we can put an end to this problem.”

He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Okay? I guess?” He shrugged even to himself and looked around as if someone else would agree that this sounded absurd.

“Great! See you tonight at 9pm.”

Beep.

He stood and paced around for a moment.

How do I even begin to explain this to someone? They haven’t done this for five years and then I didn’t even have a regular job… What if Jimmy calls me and asks if I’m okay like what the heck did they write on that leave notice?! I had plans with Grian next week!

Then, he tentatively found his way to Cub's bedroom door and knocked.

“WHATTTTT….?” Cub shouted back with a groggy voice.

“Well, um… I- I've gotta get ready for some Hero-ing. I'm gonna go back to my flat. See you later.” He started towards the table to pick up his bag, but paused when he heard clattering and bangs coming from Cub's room.

CLASH– DOINK– SKREEE – KPUMP

He threw open his door. “What do you mean?!” This was the most bewildered Scar had ever seen him, glasses on crooked and hair a big mess. He was even wearing sweatpants! Cub had never worn sweatpants even when he knocked in the middle of the night!

Scar stared for a second before answering. “The Commission told me I have to stay at Hero Tower for a little while.”

“Why?!”

“The case is getting really bad.” Scar sighed and looked away. “I'm not giving up on this if that's what you want me to do.”

Cub leveled some very unimpressed eyes. “That's not what I want and you know that.”

“Do I?”

“Scar, we're not arguing right now.” Cub groaned and went into the kitchen. More clattering and banging and he walked out with all sorts of potions and yogurt (the weirdest potion of all, in Scar's opinion). “These are for you. Oh, and you better eat. That has all sorts of good bacteria in it and Gods know you need something other than pasta in your stomach.”

“Hey! I'll have you know-”

“There's no protein! You need that to keep your muscles!” 

Scar scoffed. “I am a pholo- phoamo- phodosym- phogo- photosynth- isize- ing… plant.”

Cub leaned over onto his counter in a fit of chuckles, holding his temples. “Scar… Scar, what the heck was that?”

Scar smiled and giggled, too. “Okay, but I do eat things other than pasta!”

Cub stood straight again and raised an eyebrow at Scar. “Sure, like what?”

Scar paused for a long second. “... your mom!” He rushed to hide behind the next wall and laughed as Cub cackled and chased after him.

-

“Jellie will not tolerate mistreatment!” Scar asserted, standing firmly in Cub's apartment and petting Jellie softly on the head. “She is a vicious beast and if you don't make her happy while I'm gone, she will probably try to lay on your face and suffocate you.”

Cub nodded. “I know how to take care of a cat.”

“ A cat?” An unimpressed and aggressive side eye passed over Scar's face as he scratched the kitty's chin. “This is my cat. The cat even!”

Cub rolled his eyes with a smile, watching Scar put on his Hotguy gear. “Alright, well, I hope you have a good stay at superhero prison.”

“It's not prison .” Scar reiterated for the thousandth time, activating his robotic legs and stood to grab his Hotguy branded bag and swing it over his shoulder.

“Close enough, if you ask me,” Cub shook his head.

“Well, I'll see you later, Cubby!” He called before he chugged an invisibility potion and climbed out of the window onto his apartment's roof. 

It was evening now, and Hotguy had taken the whole day to really think about what he was going to do. The things Cuteguy had said to him were slowly losing their piercing bite, but not enough for it to be over in his head. He needed to be better. He needed to be the Hero he used to be. The Hero that was worth people's time. The Hero that wouldn't embarrass Cuteguy, maybe?

As he passed another apartment building, he could hear the news playing loudly through one of the windows. He hesitated and stopped where he was on the roof.

“ –yesterday in Hermit Heights, we heard news of an attack on Heroes Hotguy and Cuteguy. Here is some footage taken at the scene–”

Hotguy scrambled to go to the edge of the roof and try to look into the window. He slowly lowered himself down, but he just couldn't see it.

“–don't hurt him! Don't touch his wings–”

He heard himself yelling through the TV with a pained, cracking voice. He cringed and tried one more time to get low enough before-

BOOM!

Hotguy groaned and pushed his upper half away from the metal grated fire escape. He rubbed the crown of his head with a wince. He opened his eyes to see an old woman in a recliner, looking back at him with a bewildered face, the TV still running behind her.

“Sorry about that, ma’am…”

So much for being less embarrassing.

-

“Well, if it isn't my favorite Hotguy!” Tek greeted warmly in the second floor (Hero-only) lobby of Hero Tower, holding out a fist for him to bump. 

Scar grinned, “Tis me!” He met his fist and mimicked an explosion sound. “WOAH YOUR FIRE JUST OBLITERATED MY BOMB HAND AAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

“You're in a good mood!” Tek exclaimed with a loud chuckle.

Hotguy shrugged, “I suppose you could say that.” He winked. He didn't know what he was winking for, but it felt like the right move.

“Now, I'm not the housing coordinate-ification guy, but I've got you your keys,” he pulled them from his pocket and tossed them into Scar's hand. “The guy is out because apparently they're having to keep like a ton of Heroes and a ton of people in danger of whatever the heck is going on with your mycelium business. Anyway, that's just making all of this so difficult for them and they figured you could figure your stuff out, right?”

Hotguy nodded understandingly. “Oh, I doubt I'll have any issues,” he affirmed. “What's the room number?”

Tek looked around for a second before huffing and looking at his comm. “That's 3504… it's either the top floor or second to top. Sorry, my brain's all scattered with everything going on.” His firey hair flickered as he shifted his weight from leg to leg with a worried face.

“Don't worry about it, man. I'll see you later.” He concluded with a pat to the shoulder.

He walked to the elevator and excitedly pushed the 35 button . A top floor view? This was going to be a much better room than he'd expected.

He waited anxiously as the elevator kept climbing… and climbing… and CLIMBING. Geez, it was actually annoying how long it took. Maybe that's why people opt for the first floor in all these high rise buildings , he thought to himself.

Finally, the elevator dinged and he stepped out into a small hall to see several rooms lining the walls in both directions. He looked curiously at the signs and followed the room numbers a couple doors down until he was at 3504.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. He turned to close the door behind him when he heard a loud chirp. He whipped his head around and met… those wings. Those eyes. That hair.

His chest tightened and he had to fix his face when he turned back to the door and searched for a thing that might save him here. 

“They didn't tell me you'd be here.”

The voice sounded venomous to Scar and he was a word away from biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

He turned and looked around the apartment. It was a studio, two beds on one side with floor to ceiling windows leading to a lush balcony, the other side had a surprisingly decent sized kitchen and a bathroom. Behind Cuteguy was the couch and a TV set up on the wall. Decent. For one person. Or maybe two people where one didn't hate the other.

Scar just silently brought his things to the bed that hadn't been claimed yet and sat. He turned, crossed one leg over the other, and put on his most persuasive voice, complete with his winning smile. “Well, if I knew you'd be here, I would have brought poppies.”

Cuteguy sighed, rolled his eyes, and went to the kitchen.

It was kind of weird to see Cuteguy in this setting. His costume was covered by an oversized red cardigan, leg warmers instead of his leggings and shoes. His face was hardly disguised, his usual heavy eyeshadow much lighter. Scar knew he was staring, but it was hard to look away from him as he waited by the kettle and searched with increasing frustration for the sugar.

He looks beautiful . A knot tightened in his stomach and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“You going to keep staring at me all night?” Cuteguy sneered.

Hotguy closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry.”

He turned to his bag and started unpacking the essentials. His favourite stuffed animals, Finnegan and Katie Bee. They most definitely belong at the head of the bed for future comfort and cuddles. Next, his phone and phone charger. Boring. Bedside table. Now all his stupid toiletries, which he'd move later. And… welp. Turns out he only had clothes to distract him from the increasingly uncomfortable feeling of eyes on the side of his head. 

“Did you want tea?”

Hotguy glanced over his shoulder. “Sure?” This came out as more of a question because he wasn't sure if Cuteguy was ready to poison him or not.

A few moments later, his partner brought him a cup of tea and retreated to sit in silence on the couch.

Hotguy frowned and nursed the tea lightly for a while. He really wished his partner would just say something.

-

WHAT DO I EVEN DO IN THIS SITUATION?! Cuteguy's brain was racing a mile a minute as he stared at the blank TV, hyper aware of every sound around him. Hotguy bounced his knee nervously and the squeak from his robotic leg was driving him insane. 

I should just talk to him like a normal person but I'm still… I'm… am I mad? I mean, yeah! My wing is broken! It's all–UGH NO IT'S NOT ALL HIS FAULT! I HATE NUANCE.

Cuteguy stole a glance back at his Hero partner and his face distorted into one of woe. His eyes softened, his mouth tugged a frown onto his lips, and his jaw was tight. He forced his eyes away and sunk deeper into the sofa.

I want to protect him. He's so… I NEED TO GET BRAIN SURGERY WHAT THE HECK AM I THINKING? He is not pretty!

“Hey, Cuteguy?” A meek voice rang out.

He jumped and turned to look at Hotguy, who met his gaze with kind eyes.

Don't look at me like that.

A light, sad smile on his face, hands restless on his lap, he began. “I listened to what you said…”

You shouldn't have. I didn't actually mean that!

“I think I just got caught up with other things. I think that now that this is all we have to focus on, I can really do my best.”

Hotguy… please don't hurt yourself…

“I'm glad you brought it up… um… I mean maybe not the way you did, but it's okay.”

DON'T JUST IGNORE HOW MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE I WAS!!!

“Either way, I made an oath when I became a Hero. I will be the saviour I promised to be. I'm sorry you had to deal with me being… less than that.”

Oh my Gods… I've just made him apologize for… existing as himself… what is wrong with me? 

“You… um… you don't have to-” Grian started. 

Hotguy interrupted with a shake of his head. “I do have to. I've been too scatterbrained and… and stupid.” Cuteguy could hear a small hitch in his throat… then a cough to pretend it didn't happen. “I will protect you and… and everyone. I'm going to stop messing around now and you'll see who I really am.”

Cuteguy nodded intently. “Alright. Thank you.” He sank back into the couch and felt his stomach churn as images of his partner in the middle of panic attacks flashed behind his eyes.

-

Although Scar needed to sleep, he found himself scrolling through everything and rotting his little brain. The tiny apartment seemed to be meant for it, something about the flat, grey walls, and the lack of privacy demanded endless scrolling as the only form of escape.

Ding!

Grian: hey Scar!

Scar rushed to turn off his notification sound, hearing Cuteguy shift in his bed not even 10 feet away from him.

Scar: well, hello thier :3

Grian: I'm at a last minute conference across the country. Finally got back to the hotel

Scar smiled to himself, feeling a little flutter in his chest as he pictured Grian laying sleepily on a hotel bed.

Scar: oooh!!! Are you giving a talk?

Grian: no, I'm safe this time lol

Scar: that's good!!! Those speeches kill me honesly :_l glad that you didt have to scrape anything together

Grian: yea, it would have been a nightmare. How have you been doing tho?

Scar froze and stared at his phone for a long moment. Find a lie, find a lie! One that won't make him think I'm dying, preferably!!! He slowly typed and retyped his response before hitting send. 

Scar: not to well :( I'm in the hospital for a few days, but its not anything serius they just need to keep an eye on me so I'm fkne

Grian: what oh my gosh are you okay???

Oh my Gods stop asking questions, I hate lying to you…

Scar: like I said, I'm fine! Just some… wierd stuff with my leg… idk I wasn't lisening lmao

Grian: please keep me updated, I'm so sorry you're going through that :( once I'm back, I can grab you food anytime so you don't have to eat hospital food 

Scar felt a tightness in his chest for a moment as he smiled and hid his face in the pillow. He's such an amazing friend.

Scar: oh thts to sweat of you <3 thank you m for the offer

Grian: are your typos getting worse or is it just me?

Scar: hey! Don't be mean to meeeeeeee :(

Scar heard a small giggle from Cuteguy in the dark and he startled for a moment. He sighed and looked back at his phone only to feel another grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Grian: >:) you know I won't

Scar: evil!

-

Grian woke up early… like 5:30am early. Less than ideal, all things considered, but it gave him a moment to reflect. 

In the dim light, he found himself staring at Hotguy. He wondered when he'd fallen asleep… was he sleeping well? When had he turned on his side like that and leaned his face into the pillow? He imagined what it would feel like to be Hotguy's pillow. He wanted to hold him and cuddle, make a nest and wrap his wings- WAIT. 

That was not true! My dreaming brain isn't off yet and it's just being really weird, he told himself. 

NOT THAT I DREAM ABOUT HIM- my dreams are reserved only for Scar and the interiors of structures that I'll never make!

He sat up and rubbed his face, pulling back to see his hands smeared with black makeup. He sighed and stretched his wings, careful not to push against his splint, then stood up and padded over to the bathroom.

Woah … his hair was a giant mess, his eyes were heavy, and he looked like he had been crying for hours with how smeared his makeup was. Dipping over the sink, he washed his face, scrubbing with just water since this place didn't have any face soap. He straightened and looked back into the mirror to see more dauby streaks over his face.

He switched the water off and pat his face into the towel folded on the counter before going back into the glorified hotel room to retrieve his toiletry bag. He kneeled beside his bed and started tearing through his bag before he heard some shuffling. 

Hotguy yawned loudly and as soon as he opened his eyes, he made eye contact with Grian. They both looked at each other stunned for a moment before Hotguy gave a gentle smile with a quiet “good morning, Cutie…” in a deep, groggy voice. He closed his eyes and sat up to stretch, leaving the opportunity for Cuteguy to snatch up his toiletries and speed back into the washroom. 

Cuteguy leaned against the door with his hand to his chest and a hot feeling on his face. I'm just embarrassed, I'm just embarrassed, that's all it is. A rosy hue stared back at him in the mirror, hidden under everything else. He needs to stop calling me Cutie…

After finally cleaning his face, it was time to do his makeup again… just a wonderful perk of being in permanent Cuteguy mode. When he picked up his eyeshadow brush he froze. He frowned before the moment of hesitation passed, and he quickly shrouded his eyes before putting on his pink lens and white frame heart sunglasses to do the rest of the obscuring work. With a comb he tamed his hair, and tousled it a little to be just enough messy to look cute.

He turned around in the mirror and smiled at his reflection. Scar said he would marry Cuteguy… he giggled as he spun on his heel and swished his wide leg shorts around side to side like a skirt. He wondered what Scar would think of this outfit… pink and black striped loose crop top with the black skirt-like shorts, and hot pink leg warmers. Just the thought of Scars reaction brought an embarrassed smile to his face. “Oh, you look adorable!” Scar would say.

“Cutie?” Hotguy called from the room, startling Grian out of his trance. 

“What?” He barked back.

“Sorry, I just… y'know I need to pee!”

Grian, mostly by accident, slammed the bathroom door open, and threw a glance at Hotguy. “I don't need the details! You're gross!”

“You're grossed out by me saying I have to pee in the morning?!” Hotguy threw back with a challenging look.

He rolled his eyes, which Hotguy must have sensed because he rolled his right back and disappeared behind the bathroom door.

-

In the training gym, Scar cracked his knuckles and steeled himself for his first practice in a long while.

After the void exposure, Scar was incapacitated for a little while, but he got right back up and trained every day to get himself strong enough to be a Hero again. It had been about a year since he'd done his training. Sure, he'd practice his arm strength at home by curling Jellie like a weight, but nothing intentionally challenging. 

Now, he stood face to face with a punching bag and he shook out his nerves with his taped hands and wrists. He stepped back slowly, then BAM! railed his fist right into the bag. He shuffled around, hitting and using the swing to catch another blow from his other hand. He got into a flow of jumping back before barreling forward for another strike, using his forearms as a shield from the imaginary opponent. The sound of fists to leather filled his conscious mind and he didn't even notice when someone had walked in.

“Hotguy!” Tek called through the noise.

Scar whipped his head around to look at Tek and the punching bag finally got its hit on him–right in the face–and he stumbled back a few steps. With a laugh from both, Hotguy shook his head and said “Hey, what's up?”

“Alright! Hotguy is locking in, huh?” He gestured to Scar's sweatiness.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. Check it out!” He flexed his biceps and abs, with a silly smoulder.

“Dang, when's the last time you did this? I don't remember when we last trained together.”

Continuing his confident display, he used a bragging voice to say, “Like at least 10 months ago!”

Tek nodded his head, “Wow, yeah… you've been busy a while.”

The statement was so simple. So matter of fact. No malicious or even slightly judging tone. Just an observation. Yet, Scar felt a surge of guilt. I'm not a good Hero.

“Anywaysss, I just wanted to ask if you like your new room! I was so scatterbrained yesterday, I can't believe I forgot to check in with you,” Tek told him as he shifted from foot to foot.

Scar looked around for a moment at the concrete floor and then up at the subway tiled walls and finally up to the plain, boring ceiling with ugly puck lights. “I mean, it's not bad at all. Cuteguy is acting a little weird, but I think it's just because he's-”

“Cuteguy is in the same room as you?” Tek squeaked out, staring into Hotguy's eyes, petrified.

He nodded. “Yup!”

“Cool! Cool! That's great!” He said with a shrill tone as he walked away with stiff limbs. “Let me go take care of something!”

Scar frowned in confusion… What happened?

Returning to his training, the world felt off kilter again and he figured he'd try his best to punch it back into place.

-

That evening, after about five different pretty much useless meetings, the Heroes were back to patrol. Cuteguy was kind of bored and if he was being honest… he would've enjoyed Hotguys typical rambling, but he was silent. The seriousness emanating from the blue and orange clad Hero was akin to a dog breathing fire. Shocking and disturbing and seemingly impossible!

In fact, earlier, Hotguy had spotted a thief in an alleyway going through their spoils and he jumped down with finesse and apprehended them like it was nothing. He even returned the stolen items to their owner. Several times, Grian could see a red glow from his eyes, but he could never seem to identify what his power was. 

He'd made people freeze in their spot, fall over, turn around, walk away, but his eyes lit up so much without him even giving a demand to a perp or pointing a hand. Many times, it honestly seemed like he was doing nothing.

Hotguy pulled him back into the present moment as he reached for his bow. His eyebrows furrowed, he slowly approached the edge of the roof, and FWA . The arrow flew from Hotguy's bow and embedded itself in an enderman's side, killing it in one hit.

“Let's check this out.” He pulled out his grappling hook, threw it to catch on the next ledge, and swung from his rope. He landed on the sidewalk with a clang, then hugged the wall as he snuck into the alley.

Hotguy was silent. He was tactful. He was being extremely careful and vigilant and… what Grian told him to be.

Guilt prickled at his skin as he tried his best to fall down gracefully with just one wing, but failed a little and stumbled forward. There, of course , Hotguy caught him around the waist and righted him on his feet. His hands lingered for a moment and Grian caught himself as he started to lean toward his partner. 

“Are you alright?” He asked in a low voice.

Grian nodded and touched his hands lightly to Hotguys shoulders. “I'm okay, I think.” He looked up… into his eyes. What a mistake. What a mistake!  

He's beautiful and too nice and I can't let him get hurt because of me.

“Yeah, I'm okay.” He confirmed with a nod and strained half-smile. 

Hotguy removed his hands completely from his partner's vicinity and returned to the stealthily sneak down the alley.

There were more of them. Five or six endermen stalked around slowly and aimlessly, bringing an uneasy feeling to Grian’s chest.

Before he had time to properly process the position they were in, three endermen dropped like flies, skewered on one of Hotguy's poison arrows. He pulled a gun from the holster at his side, and brought it to eye level. 

Something was there. Something was there and it wandered about much like a writhing pool, overflowing and pushing at the edges of an unseen container. Any time he tried to focus his eyes on it, it moved and blurred. 

“Hotguy, let's get out of here.” He whispered and pulled at his shoulder. 

Hotguy shook his head and spoke a quiet demand. “Stop.”

The monsters slowed and turned and Hotguy shot again, catching two endermen on the arrow instead of the pool. Grian went to shoot and found himself slowed before Hotguy backed into him, freeing him from the trance his power made. 

Finally, Cuteguy could cock his gun and shoot, hitting the writhing creature. In an instant, a panicked feeling stabbed him in the stomach. He gasped and leaned forward into Hotguy, who pulled a rope from his utility belt. In one fell swoop, he captured the creature, stepped on its middle, and pulled a knife to its… skin? 

The form disintegrated and melted into the concrete below. As it went, Cuteguy’s artificial panic sifted right through him as if it had never been there. He leaned against the wall as he reeled with the rapid changes in his senses.

Hotguy furrowed his brows. He stood with an even, determined face, eyes fixed on the dark matter that clung to the rope. “I think I got some of… whatever that was. Let's get it tested in the lab.” He walked past Cuteguy and grabbed an arm of the escape ladder. “You ready to continue patrol?”

Cuteguy eyed his partner incredulously. I didn't know he was capable of doing anything with grace… After the moment of disbelief, he followed after him and they continued on their way.

-

When they finally got back to the studio apartment on the second to top floor of Hero Tower, they were ravenous and ate Chinese take-out like it was from a five-star gourmet restaurant. 

“I wish I could fit snacks in my utility belt!” Hotguy groaned, leaning back in his chair with a full stomach.

Cuteguy held back a grin and shook his head. “We don't need you on a sugar high.”

Hotguy rolled his eyes with good humor and protested. “I don't get sugar highs, I'm just always a hyper kind of guy!”

“You're not always like that,” Cuteguy opposed. He pointed at him and spoke again, “you- you were normal today!”

Hotguy frowned. “Normal? What is that supposed to mean?”

Cuteguy covered his mouth and shook his head. “Oh my… I'm sorry for that phrasing, that's not what I meant. I just… you seemed…” he sat up and searched the room for the words he was looking for. “Did I make… hoooooo-” he felt his heart starting to race with the anxious guilt he felt. “Did I make you feel like you had to stop being yourself?” His voice got quiet towards the end and worry spilled from the sound.

Surprisingly, Hotguy laughed, shook his head, and waved it off. “I did that all on my own.”

The statement pinned Cuteguy to his seat and his face distorted into pity. How could he believe that? “No.”

“No?” Hotguy looked around with a bewildered look.

“Yes, no. I was an asshole. I… I broke my wing because I didn't trust that you could take care of yourself. That's… that's my fault. And then I berated you for it and…” he felt tears pricking at his eyes and he held them back as they formed a knot in his throat. “Oh my gods, why would you believe me?” He covered his mouth and paused to get some deep breaths in before the sobs could tear through his guise.

Hotguy sighed and curled in on himself. “You didn't say anything that I haven't already thought.”

“That's worse!” He bursted out. “The fact that you don't see that what I said was wrong makes it so much worse.” He resisted the urge to reach out to his partner who hung his head and wrung his hands in his lap. “I… I like who you are. Without the serious mode. I actually wanted to hear you talk about trains today.”

Silence rang in their ears, a thick atmosphere of discomfort surrounding them like fog.

“Did you know that Hermitopia is planning to install N700S-8000 series trains in the next ten years? They're really cool bullet trains from Japan… y’know  like with the little nose… it’s inspired by a dolphin I’m pretty sure…” He whispered.

Cuteguy shot up from his seat and wrapped his arms around Hotguy. He buried his nose into the crook of his neck and unknowingly pinned his arms to his sides with how tightly he’d squeezed him. Hotguy chuckled a little, bringing his hands as best he could to Cuteguy’s sides and leaning his head on the other’s.

“You’re… you’re really cool, dude.” Cuteguy said with a choked voice.

This made Hotguy lean back and cackle, bringing a hand to his stomach as his partner stood back up and slowly joined in the laugh as he realized how stupid he’d sounded.

“You are horrible at apologies, you know that?” Scar smiled with a restrained fondness that showed his dimples. 

Cuteguy hid his face in his hands and shook his head. “I’m so sorry that I’m like this.”

“Don’t worry,” Hotguy felt the warm tingly feeling all over as he spoke, smooth as honey, “I like who you are. With the bad apologies.”

A new, more electric silence startled the room. A few moments passed and Cuteguy declared, “Oh my Gods, I really need to get some sleep.”

Chapter Text

Meetings were probably Scar’s least favourite thing. He had no idea why people felt the need to slowly go around a table and say whatever and stuff and like ughhhhh

His Hotguy outfit wasn’t particularly made for being fidgetable. The spandex and seamless edges on his suit weren’t very stimulating for his brain as he listened to Xisuma drone on about… whatever they were talking about. And these chairs weren’t spinny chairs, so he had to deal with just sitting there like a brick, staring off in the general direction he was supposed to while he envisioned baby Jellie running around the room causing destruction.

“Hotguy?” Tek snapped his fingers in front of his face.

He jumped and glanced around, “Woah, woah, what did I miss?”

A collective laugh went around the room and he frowned.

“Okay, back to the present, man.” Xisuma shook his head with a smile. “We- let me remind you, that’s me, you, Tek, and Cuteguy- are trying to strategize what we need to do to take care of the mycelium issue.”

Hotguy gasped, “Oh my Gods, I forgot to send this to the lab!” He pulled a rope out of his utility belt, covered in small, hardened bits of mycelium? Guts? A mysterious slime?

“Gross!” Cuteguy sneered, leaning away from it. “That’s been in our room?!”

“Yeah! We got back really early in the morning, I was tired!”

“You are the most forgetful person I know,” He chided before he whipped his head around at a realization. “You must have gotten that everywhere! That’s what that was in the kitchen! I thought it was dirt but-”

Tek shook his head and ran his hands down his face. “I hate you two…”

“What did I do?!” Hotguy and Cuteguy each said at the same time, the same accusing tone.

He stared back at them, hiding a smile under an unimpressed glare.

“Alright, idiots, back to it.” Tek grabbed the rope from Hotguy and set it on the table in front of him. Cuteguy eyed it with thinly veiled disgust.

“Right,” Xisuma said. “So I got the blueprints of the storm drain system from the city. They told me that recently they've seen a few cave-ins, which isn't promising.” Pointing to some illustrations on a white board, very bad ones Hotguy might add, as he shifted around the table. “This exit is toast. We cannot get caught in the East wing. This place is a maze, so I need everyone to stick to their maps on their comms, alright?”

They each nodded sharply.

“Alright.” Xisuma rubbed his hands together and paced around the room. “I'm thinking we go in, collect all the samples we can…”

Tek chimed in. “And we should find a way to test the properties of it there. See what it can do when it's in its regular… habitationism?” 

“Habitat.” Cuteguy corrected. “And, while I agree with you, I'm hesitant about that. This stuff is scary. I don't know what it will do, it's been different every time we've come across it.” He looked to Hotguy for support.

“Yeah… I think it's best if we go in and get out fast. That small cramped space is a perfect spot for us to get stuck and hurt.” Hotguy agreed.

Xisuma looked at Tek to see if there was anything else to add before he spoke himself. “I see your point, HG. I think… Cuteguy, how do you feel about being watch guard? We can have someone close to the threshold–”

“–and you can be on radio! If we have that, then we know if the mycelium interferes with signals!” Tek added in with excitement. He stood and grabbed a marker as he went to the white board and scribbled as he spoke. “So here you are. Cute little pink dot there. We go along this path. I'll light the way since who knows what will happen to flashlights, right? Xisuma can lead since we know how stubborn he is.” Xisuma glared and Tek just smiled back. “And then Hottie… hm… oh! Our mighty bowman, of course. There are bound to be mobs, so keep them away and maybe you can hold a bag for the samples we collect?” 

Cuteguy nodded slowly before he furrowed his brows and asked, “what if we lose signal? What do I do then?”

“At that point, you should wait a little while to see if it was a fluke and then call backup to retrieve us.” Xisuma said.

“I don't know how I feel about this…” Hotguy said with a small grimace. “It seems like asking for trouble.”

“That's what we do, baby!” Tek laughed. “Don't worry, man, it'll turn out alright.”

The conversation continued around him. Scar imagined the things that could happen in there. Cuteguy was still injured, so keeping watch was a good role for him, but it still felt wrong. What if he couldn't get out? What if another cave-in happens and they're stuck? What if… He ran his hands over his legs in hopes of calming himself down.

“We need absolute focus.” Hotguy flicked his eyes back up. Xisuma pointed to an entrance to the storm drain system. “This is where we enter. This is where we leave. Now, let's pack up.”

-

“Alright,” Xisuma said as he strapped a utility bag over his shoulder. “CG, you set up camp here. We will be updating you regularly–every ten minutes or so–so that you know what's going on.” 

Cuteguy nodded and snuck a glance at Hotguy, who was standing unnaturally straight and solid. He looked like a robot guard when he usually gave more of a muscular teddy bear vibe.

He snapped back to attention when Xisuma continued. “I cannot stress this enough–do not follow us in until you get back-up if you suspect something went wrong. Even if you weren't injured, I'd tell you this.” Xisuma looked Cuteguy in the eyes intensely. “Got that?”

He nodded. “Got it.”

With that, Cuteguy watched as the three Heroes disappeared into the dark drain. The sun was still high in the sky, so there wasn't any spooky nature like there had been the last time he'd descended into the tunnels, but still he felt like there were eyes on him. Images of the spray painted purple eyes that surrounded him and Hotguy filled his mind, and he felt a deep pit of anxiety welling in his stomach. 

He paced around, annoyed that he stuck with the heels today because they were much harder to balance in with one of his wings out of commission.

The entrance they decided on was near the Southernmost part of the system, and thus was smack dab in the middle of a suburb. He was situated in a ditch just like last time, but instead of big fields separating him from humanity, he was quite close. He could see the signs for the corner store across the street, advertising “extra cheap” gasoline prices, which were a 1/10th of a cent below four dollars. What a deal! People passed on the road and he made a game of counting the colors… honestly it was more of a grounding method than a game.

“Hottie to Cutie! Come in!” Rang the first of the radio check ins, the crunchy sounding voice of his roommate coming through.

“I'm here… over?” He wasn't used to walkie-talkies.

“Good to hear! So we're at the first junction and we're checking out the path on the right. Only thing we've seen so far is graffiti. Over.”

Cuteguy felt the knot in his stomach twist. He had such a horrible feeling about this. “Roger that. Um… what kind of graffiti? Over.”

A short pause. “Well, it's looking similar to our last trip. A lot of tags, but then eyes have started coming up. Over.”

“Any mycelium?”

A long pause. “You didn't say ‘over’, you confused me!” 

“Oh my Gods, Hotguy, just answer the damn question.”

“No mycelium yet. Over.” The radio static played for a few seconds longer and Grian could hear someone snickering–most definitely Tek–right before Hotguy butted in. “Hey, stop laughing at me!”

“Your radio is still on.” Cuteguy said into the machine.

“Oh shoot… Over.”

Grian cackled to himself, leaning over for a second as he caught his breath. “Oh, that idiot.” He said to himself as the laughter siphoned out some of the excess anxiety.

-

Hotguy, despite his attempts to keep this mission light hearted, didn't feel very nice. His stomach hurt a little, his headache was getting worse, and his legs were sore as ever. 

His decision (or maybe avoidance) that resulted in not taking off his robotic legs in front of Cuteguy was a problem considering it's been two nights and he hasn't had the opportunity to actually care for them. He knew that some motors were definitely getting overworked and his stupid toe plate was probably broken again because he was never careful. What was most apparent to him though was the pain.

No one is meant to wear metal that long. He hadn't even taken a shower because he was too scared that if something happened to him, it would be Cuteguy that was the first to know and he would see his rotted, charred-looking legs. He didn't want to risk that. 

In the storm drain, the humidity made his gears a little tougher to move and there was resistance when he walked. In the back of his head, he really just wanted to leave. He knew how bad this place could be and he didn't have the energy to do this.

He said nothing.

“Alright, finally getting to some creepy mycelium, ooooh!” Tek smiled back at Hotguy, who trailed behind him and Xisuma a few feet.

Hotguy shot back a half-hearted smile.

The ceiling and walls had a few vine-like spans of mycelium creating a lattice above their heads. In this concentration, it really didn’t feel like a threat, but he knew that could change very quickly.

Xisuma started collecting samples, putting them in petri dishes while Tek took readings of the location, depth, and all the technical stuff that flew over Hotguy's head.

After placing some petri dishes in the bag over Scar's shoulder, the gang resumed their descent. 

Slowly, Hotguy began to notice the eyes on the walls growing in size. They began glowing, just barely and the pit in his stomach only grew.

“Report this to CG,” Xisuma instructed.

Hotguy gulped and brought the radio up to his mouth. “Hey, Cutie… the eyes are starting to glow again. Over.”

“Keep weapons close at hand and tell Tek to keep up the heat. Over.”

“Roger that. Over.” He returned the radio to his side and looked around anxiously. “Heard that, Tek?” 

“Yep. I've got enough fuel to keep burning bright.” He turned around and held up some cookies.

Scar wasn't exactly sure how it worked, but if cookies made the flames coming from Tek's head, who was he to say anything? That was pretty awesome.

“Okay, guys, I'm seeing some movement ahead. Stay alert. HG be ready to shoot.” Xisuma said as he prepped a weapon at his side. 

Down the tunnel, Hotguy saw the movement. It was impossible to focus on and any attempt to make out the form only led to more questions. A head morphed into a foot into an ear into a hand. He swallowed down the uneasy feeling and drew an arrow. 

Squeaks echoed around them. They looked at each other, puzzled. Mice started running past them toward where the Heroes had just came in, a panic apparent in their cries. They all stumbled as mice ran over and around their feet.

A wet squelching sound followed. Hotguy whipped his head around to see the walls, floor, and ceiling caked in creeping mycelium. The bits of fungus moved around in tendrils, reaching for the mice, growing at incredible speed as it pursued. 

Hotguy jumped back as mycelium reached for his feet and his hand flew to bring the radio up to his mouth, letting his arrow loose into the hoard. “Cuteguy, come in.”

“Hello, Hotguy.”

“Mycelium is attacking. It's fast and it's… trying to eat us? I don't know!” He nearly fell on his face as he got too close to the wall and the mycelium reached out like a hand to snatch the radio from him. “It-it-it’s smart or something! It wants to take away our communication line. Over.”

No response. He pressed the call button again as he tried to tear at the fungus with his other hand.

“Do you copy?”

No response.

He yelped as he felt hands grabbing him from behind and he spun around and punched, only to be met with nothing. He reeled back in confusion and pocketed his radio as he went to the only light source that wasn't purple and terrifying: Tek.

He followed the bright warm light, doing his best not to trip over the ropes of mycelium until he was by his partner's side. 

“Cuteguy isn't responding,” he said, going back to back with Tek and shooting at any vague form that caught his eye in the darkness.

Tek huffed, out of breath. “Keep the signal on. Find a way to keep the button down so they can find us easier. And tell him to call backup.” 

Hotguy tried, he really did. But when he brought out the radio, a mycelium arm(?) sprung out from the ceiling and snatched it from him. He activated his power immediately, but when he commanded the mycelium to drop the radio, he felt a sudden sickness that brought him to his knees as he keeled over. Mycelium latched to his arms and Tek rushed to his side, burning the mycelium away from them both. Meanwhile, Xisuma was creating a force field to keep the stuff at bay, which was much harder than it sounded because even the smallest bit of mycelium could grow like wildfire and ruin the isolation. 

Tek put a hand on Hotguy's back. “Hey, Buddy, come back to me,” he said fervently as he lightly snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“I'm so–” Scar paused suddenly as he felt nausea wash over him. He took a few deep breaths before he could continue. “It… it deflected my power?”

Tek furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay. Okay, let's get you standing. We've got a few more things we need to do so we can get out of here.” He pulled Hotguy up to his feet and looked up with determination. “Don't use your powers right now. Xisuma, are we ready?”

Xisuma nodded. “Affirmative. Burn it all as soon as I drop the shield in three… two… one!”

The shield disappeared and the tunnel in front of them shot up in blue scorching flames as Hotguy and Xisuma scrambled away from the inferno. Tek screamed and raged and threw all his weight around as he pummeled the mycelium monsters that didn’t stand a chance against the blazing meteor that Tek embodied. Hotguy joined in behind him after Tek had gone a far enough distance away that he wouldn’t be burnt to a crisp, and he used the knife that slotted in the contours of his robotic legs to slice up what hadn't been burned. Meanwhile, Xisuma tore pieces off the wall and gathered them into specimen bags.

A cry of pain rang out, making Hotguy and Xisuma swivel their heads to look for the source. Behind all the smoke and char, Tek's body lay on the floor, his fire hardly even sizzling, while two figures loomed above.

Hotguy nocked an arrow and slowly approached, hate filling his muscles as he resisted the urge to fire immediately. “Who are you?” He squinted in the dark, smokey tunnel, holding back a coughing fit that made his voice hoarse.

The man with cowboy boots and long hair laughed, leaning on his knee as he stepped on Tek's back. “You don't need to know, dude.”

He recognized that voice! It was the wolf-hybrid guy… what was it? Ren!

“Get away from him.” Hotguy snarled, continuing his slow advance, arrow just a millisecond away from flying.

Ren narrowed his eyes and one of his wolf ears twitched back. “You don't understand where you are, do you?”

Ren moved to put his full weight on Tek's body and Hotguy shot.

Mycelium rushed from the floor, up Ren's body and made a barrier that caught the arrow in its slimy, spindly tendrils. 

Xisuma threw knives, all of which were diverted from the enemies’ bodies. 

The one in the back cackled and finally got enough light on him. Hotguy recalled the hostage case and saw so clearly that now… now BigB was one of them. Hotguy felt a resurging fire of frustration course through him. Not only had Ren made it out after nearly killing Cuteguy, but now BigB was terrorizing people the way Martyn had to him.

He lunged. He imagined that Ren was the punching bag and he could do whatever was necessary for him to fall. One hit to his jaw, another to his side. He leaned back as Ren tried to strike back with a punch to his nose and laughed when he missed before the Hero head butted him hard. 

Flashes of strange images appeared behind Hotguy's eyes. People in cloaks. Precise networks spreading miles. Destruction. Eyes. So, so many eyes. 

He stumbled back and watched Ren fall to the ground in front of him. He looked up to see BigB and Xisuma in a fight, Xisuma easily flipping him over his shoulder and dropping him on his back. Xisuma was pretty badass, Hotguy thought.

Unfortunately, thoughts weren't warranted in such a place and the time Hotguy spared for one led to his downfall. Mycelium had snuck its way up his body and around his neck and Ren was staring up at him with venom in his veins. 

When Hotguy reached to tear it from his skin, Ren clenched his fists and the mycelium tightened around his throat. He gasped in surprise and activated his power. “Sleep!” He demanded, feeling it was the only way to get him to go limp for long enough for him to escape. 

But, as it had been earlier, his power didn't work. Instead, he felt a deep, monstrous nausea come to his stomach and he fell to his knees as he teared at the mycelium and gasped for breath. He tried to crawl away, but his legs were seized up and wouldn't listen to his impulses.

Ren laughed and shoved Hotguy down, making his head hit the concrete with a thud. 

Hotguy tried his power again. “Stop!” He gasped for air, swallowing down the acid in his stomach. He squirmed and punched, but he couldn't get out from beneath Ren's cowboy boots. 

Hotguy imagined Cuteguy as vividly as he could. His blond hair, his heart eye sunglasses, his dark eyes, his lips with cute pink lip stain… his adorable boots. He took another gasp of air and spoke as clearly as he could. “Come here.”

-

Cuteguy felt goosebumps all over his body and he turned to look down the storm drain, only to see the black abyss that was there before. He could have sworn he'd heard it. Felt it against his neck, making his hair flutter and tickle at his ear. 

Was that Hotguy? He asked himself as he started practicing deep breaths to calm himself.

“help”

He jumped. He'd been getting messages from them still. He could have sworn that Hotguy had been sending short messages saying that everything was good, but he never responded to his follow up questions, which made him suspicious. But this? Something was wrong. He felt it in his bones.

He changed the channel on his pager to access the one that went to Hero Tower before he spoke. “I need back-up at the storm drains. Over.”

“Copy that. Sending 3 Heroes now. Over.”

He sighed in relief and paced back and forth in anticipation. He changed his channel back to his connection with Hotguy and tried to contact him. “Are you okay?” He almost forgot. “Over?”

He heard Hotguy's voice ring through the static, “Yes, silly. Over.” 

The anxiety in his stomach deepened. It sounded off. It didn't seem exactly like Hotguy's tone or cadence even in such a small phrase. He pulled his intact wing to his front and began prodding and plucking.

Don't go in. Don't go in. Don't go in.

A scream from the tunnel.

He shuddered and shook his head as he stared down into the deep, black darkness.

Don't. Go. In.

“I need you.” He heard echo around in his head again, the unmistakable voice of his partner.

Everything that happened next was a blur and Grian wasn't sure how it all happened. He ran at superspeed down the tunnel, his comm the only light source he had. After going down the wrong branch once (he hardly knew his left from his right if he was being honest), he found himself in the right spot, staring at his friends in the low light. 

Xisuma was crouching as he strained to keep a force field between him and his attacker and looked back at Cuteguy in shock. 

“I told you not to follow us!” He yelled. The energy used to sustain his force field was interrupted and the monster tackled him down. 

Cuteguy lunged forward and ripped the attacker away, only to realize it was the man he'd saved before- BigB. He gasped as he saw the state of him. He looked exhausted under all the hate etched on his face. His skin seemed to sway toward a purple tone and being face to face revealed that there were tiny, almost impossible to see veins of mycelium all over him.

He shoved BigB away, turned to see Tek and Hotguy laying on the ground in front of him and rushed to Hotguy's side. Something grazed his wing, to which Cuteguy turned around to see the wolf-hybrid and slashed at him with his talons, hissing as he scooped Hotguy up in his arms.

(Scooping was probably a bad term for it because Hotguy was around double the weight of him and to be honest, Cuteguy thought that the only reason he could lift his deadweight was because of the adrenaline coursing through him.)

Super-speeding down a dark tunnel with only a few flashes of light from his comm was essentially flinging himself into the abyss. He honed all the senses he could and any time he felt a feather scrape against the wall, he corrected as best as he could. He was turned around and terrified to look back, but what was he supposed to do?

“Hotguy? Hotguy, wake up!” He gritted out as he turned side to side at the intersection of differing paths. “Please wake up…”

The next several minutes were lost to him, only existing in a blur of running, pushing, flashing lights, and anxiety.

He ran down the tunnel and made it to an end that had collapsed in. He ran down another path and made it to a dead end, a grate leading into a river. Finally, he ran down the last and found himself in his original scouting spot. This time, there were Heroes inspecting their comms as they entered.

“Get Tek and Xisuma. There isn't much time. Call for more backup there is so much back there,” Cuteguy urged and pleaded as he laid Hotguy on the ground gently. 

The Heroes gathered and spoke for a moment as Cuteguy put a hand to his partner's face to feel his temperature. 

“Go get them!” He yelled at them.

One Hero frowned. “They aren't on the map.”

“ I. Don't. Care. ” He seethed. “Get down there and save them. You'll find them!”

He turned back to Hotguy and shook him carefully with one hand as he ripped mycelium tangled all around him away with the other. “Hottie, wake up. Please, please, please.” He searched him for injuries, finding a few small cuts here and there, but it was honestly pretty difficult to see with all the scars on his skin.

Hotguy's head moved slowly back and forth, showing that at least he was alive. You stupid idiot, why would you make me care so much about your dumb ass?! Cuteguy thought before correcting himself. You're not actually an idiot I'm just scared you won't wake up! Agh!

Cuteguy very lightly slapped at Hotguy's cheek, hoping it would will him awake, but it didn't seem to do anything. He scrambled to pick up his pager that he'd dropped a little ways a way and changed the channel. “Bring an ambulance. Hotguy is unconscious and won't respond.”

“Copy. Sending one out. Over.” The dispatcher responded.

Anxious energy whirred out of him as he stared at his partner and continued lightly shaking him. You have to wake up, I can't do this. He glanced around and shook his leg and bit his lips, but nothing could make the time go by faster.

Grian grimaced as he felt his bird instincts screaming to be allowed to help. He felt like he needed to gain access to all his skin so he could find the injury and cure it, but he knew that it wasn't something on the surface–and taking off Hotguy's clothes was most definitely not allowed nor warranted. 

Another urge was to force feed him. Definitely off the table. 

Preen his wings? He didn't have wings to preen!

Hide him? Yes. Yes, that would work. 

He brought his arms below Hotguy's neck and knees to try to pick him up again, but the dead weight was just too much. The adrenaline wore off, he couldn't bring him anywhere, so he scouted what was in the surrounding area, only to see that the tunnel was next to empty and the ditch only had tall, thin grass. 

Against his human judgement, he snatched up as much grass as he could carry and brought it back to Hotguy, where he laid it under his head to try to ease the feeling of cold, hard concrete. He curved his good wing around them both and cooed sadly as he hesitantly reached a hand to Hotguy's cheek. “Wake up, you idiot…”

He heard more commotion echo down the tunnel and he felt more fear burrow deeper and deeper in his chest. 

Whatever was happening was deadly. As much as he tried, Grian couldn't tie any two threads from this case together into a cohesive story in his mind. Before this madness, he didn't get hurt in every fight. He didn't worry that his friends would die. All he had to worry about were the visible injuries, but now he was staring at his partner that wasn't even bleeding, but his eyes wouldn't open and he wouldn't respond to him.

Did he hit his head? Did someone drug him somehow? Did he need to be in the hospital right this moment and he was wasting time by not honing all the power in his body to pick him up and run him there right now?

He leaned his forehead on his partner's chest, feeling his warmth, the softness of him, heart still beating strong. It felt too close, too intimate. His instincts were screaming for him to stay and embrace him, keep him safe . But his human brain remembered that by regular social conventions, he was breaking every single boundary that should have existed between them. 

He began to pull away, tears in his eyes when he felt an arm snake around him and a hand rest on the back of his head. He wracked out a sob as he enveloped Hotguy, pressing his face and chest against him as tightly as he could.

“Please, please tell me you're okay. I- I was so scared- I thought- maybe you-” he spoke between gasps for air as he cried. 

Hotguy pet his hair soothingly. “I'll be okay.” His voice was shot, raspy from the way Ren had strangled him.

Cuteguy pulled away and made eye contact with him. “What happened? How can I help you? Do you need water? I can-”

“Shoosh.” Hotguy shook his head and pulled Cuteguy back to his chest. “I just need you.” He closed his eyes, completely unaware of the damage he'd wrought.

-

Hotguy was fine, but now Cuteguy, alone in the new room they'd found him (since apparently they really needed to separate the pair), was absolutely not.

After he’d gotten back from that horrible endeavor and ensured that everyone in his team was okay and on the mend, he retired to his room and all the feelings festered at once.

He'd gathered up every pillow in the room and even pulled out the spare blankets in order to make a nest. He pushed the mattress into the corner, lined the walls with pillows, lined the open edges with thick duvets, and left the middle with thin sheets and blankets to curl up in.

The world felt far too vast for his mind right now, so he dimmed all the lights, closed the curtains, snuggled up under approximately 5-10 blankets, and stared up at the ceiling. 

Why did feelings exist? Were they made specifically to torture people like him who had a hard time parsing through them thoroughly enough to come up with answers? Or were there even answers? Was he constantly working to solve an impossible equation, designed to appear simple on the surface?

It was bad enough to have a crush on Scar, but at least it made sense! Scar was kind and smart and funny and handsome and truly the only thing wrong with him was that he was a little messy and scatterbrained, but even that was cute! Scar was so thoughtful and was quite worthy of taking up all of Grian's thoughts.

Hotguy on the other hand was more of an air headed, stupidly charming, but mostly stupid, but also surprisingly clever, and hot , and very dumb, yet strikingly sharp and witty, but very very idiotic and very very funny guy. Every thought he had about him seemed completely contradictory. On one hand, he was quite thick. Sometimes it seemed like nothing got through his head. On the other hand, he was so smart, quick on his feet, and had an amazing, caring personality. 

Which was it really? Grian didn't know. Every time he tried to parse through the evidence, it just reminded him that ‘Hotguy’ was a character. He had no idea what exactly was beneath that front. 

But why, why, did he want so desperately to know?

Why did he feel so safe with him? Why, right after meeting him, did he feel relaxed when he touched his wings to get the glass out? Why did he want to kiss him?

Laying in his bed, he felt like an annoying teenager again, ruminating over things that didn't matter that much in the grand scheme of things. Everything would smooth over if he just gave it time. But the longer he waited, the more he felt himself being drawn to this loser. 

He's not a loser! He's so amazing! Why do I have to fight with myself over what I think about him?!

He closed his eyes and saw himself cuddled against Hotguy. He could imagine the feeling of his arms on him. The weight of Hotguy's hands laid softly on his back. He felt the calm and comfort that he brought him as he cried.

The urge to get up out of his bed and rush to find Hotguy and confess everything was so stupid and embarrassing. What thirty something had two crushes, both of which felt extremely strong and emotionally damaging?! Crushes were for people who had the time for them! He didn't! He was fighting an amorphous monster that seemed to possess people like some kind of ghost! 

And… he felt that maybe… if he had the option to confess, he would confess to Scar first. Scar would let him down easy. Or… 

…

It was best not to entertain the idea.

Chapter Text

“Woah! You look…” Cub paused. “Bad. Are you okay, man?”

Scar laughed and flashed a signature Hotguy grin. “Just a few battle scars, but I'll be back in business in no time.”

The ‘bad’ that Cub was referring to was… well, all over. Hotguy's hair was tousled, he had a black eye, a few bruises on his arms, and most subtle yet gruesome were the faint red lines snaking around his neck.

Cub frowned. “Heard these locked up pretty bad.” He said as he took the duffle bag holding the robotic legs. When he opened it, he revealed something that festered in technicians' nightmares. “Oh, Scar.”

“Don't call me that here,” he hissed as he rolled forward.

“This room is soundproof and locked at all times,” Cub deadpanned.

The room in question had 10 foot ceilings, lab vents, chemistry… thingies? And a whole ton of robotics piece organizers and bits and bobs. It was quite big for just one technician, but Cub was special because he wasn't just limited to robotics. Along with robotics, he was a chemist, biologist, astrophysicist, and renowned gamer (hence the Xbox in the corner).

Scar rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Ugh, fine.”

“Back to what I was saying.” He held up a severely fucked up leg and shot an unimpressed look at Scar. “What the fuck?”

“Let me explain!” Scar held up his hands as if surrendering. “I have been so busy these past few days and I just didn't even think about how I needed to fix them–well I did, but I couldn't!”

“What in the fresh hell stopped you from letting these cool down for a few hours? Take ‘em off and grease the joints?” He tested the knee hinge, and it creaked before squeaking so loudly that he turned away from it and dropped it back into the bag with a crash. 

“I was never alone!” He argued. “I mean, I got my room assignment and then… y’know, I spent the whole day and night around Cuteguy, and I just couldn't bring myself to taking off my legs because-”

“Cuteguy?” Cub cut in.

“Yeah, he was my roommate, but they cleared some space up apparently, so now I'm in-”

“You're telling me you slept three nights in the same room as Cuteguy?”

“Well, no, it was only two because I was in the hospital last night and that's when they changed our rooms.”

Cub, eyes closed, breathed very slowly. In. Out. He opened his eyes. “Back to what you were saying?”

Scar paused and looked around. “What was I saying?”

“Why you didn't take care of your legs.” Cub turned back to his table to work on the result of that lack of care.

“Oh yeah! So I just… ugh! It was really frustrating.” He frowned as he turned the subject around in his head. “I-I… I couldn't take off my legs in front of him. It was like a shame came over me, I guess.”

Cub nodded and sighed.

“I was scared that… even if I was alone in the bathroom… if I were to take them off at all, then he would find me and then he'd see… that.”

A silence fell over them for a small while. Scar could feel the overwhelming amount of care that Cub felt for him and it made a pit form in his stomach. He'd neglected himself, he'd judged himself, and Cub wasn't one to let him get away with that.

Cub spoke. “You've never been afraid of showing your scars. Why are your legs any different?”

Scar's heart felt heavy in his chest, as if it might fall through the maze inside him. “At least I can pretend that the scars are just vex markings.”

Cub gave a knowing look. “I don't know how anyone believes you.”

Scar shrugged. “You've got an advantage–you're vex. You know that these aren't normal patterns.”

“Why do you want people to think they're just markings?”

“Easy. I don't want anyone to know my weaknesses just by looking at me.” He explained as he fidgeted with his hands. “If they know that all of these are really healed gashes, then they know how many times I've been knocked down. If I keep it a secret, then… then I can look more invincible. The Hero people know and love.” He did another silly pose as if he was still playing Hotguy and winked at Cub.

“I think them being scars just makes you look more badass,” Cub argued and swatted Scar's flexing bicep back down to his side.

Scar swatted back and smiled. Then, he thought it over and smiled even brighter. “Yeah. Yeah, it is pretty badass!”

Cub chuckled. “You're one of the most badass people I know.” 

“Aw don't flatter me, Cubby.”

“Okay, I won't.” Cub shot a sneaky glance at Scar who was still grinning ear to ear. It warmed his heart to see him like that after their night together a few days ago.

“Well, actually, yes flatter me please. I do love attention.”

“Do badasses ask for attention like that?”

“This one does,” he snickered as he pointed a thumb back at himself and leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Cub rolled his eyes before switching subjects to their original one. “Now, why are your legs different?”

Scar closed his eyes tightly and grimaced. “It's recent. I look… rotten.”

Cub shook his head. “It's not rotten looking. It's closer to like… y'know those fey? With the black fingertips and stuff like that? Yeah, it's like that but more.”

“My adoptive mom is fey like that! I miss my long hair… how long would it take to grow out like that do you think?”

“Changing the subject?”

Scar smiled awkwardly. “Noooooooo…”

“You better not.” Cub shot a wicked look Scar's way before he continued. “But to answer your question, I don't think the Commission would let you grow it out.”

-

Lizzie: Scaaaaaaarrrr

Lizzie: you've been awfully quiet, is there something up?

Scar: no,no,no dot worry im all good :)

Lizzie: good! Me and Joel miss you xoxo any updates in your life?

Scar: not really nothings really happened 

Lizzie: wait have you watched the news recently?

Scar: no what's up?

Lizzie: there's been a lot of questions about the Commission and what's happening with the increased security

Lizzie: I've seen someone claim that there's an alien fungus coming to possess us all lol

Scar: i have never heard something so outlandish! what is this coming from???

Lizzie: Joel is super into finding silly conspiracy theories, so we've been watching together, but it's so strange! There have been several cases of people going a little crazy in the past few months, then the Commission expands its surveillance cameras? It's just a bunch of weird coincidences

Scar: wowwww 

Scar: i can't believe i haven't heard about this!

Lizzie: I know by now that despite your perfect vision you're about as blind as a bat

Scar: HEY! I AM VREY VISIONED THANK YOU VERY MUCH

Lizzie: yeah and you can see how Grian gives you googly eyes

Lizzie: woah weird typos I just made

Lizzie: wonder what that's about

Scar: omg he does not like me

Scar: stop making it weird!

Lizzie: yeah the way he stared at you after I did your makeup at the party? Totally not weird

Scar: theyres nothing weird about looking at someones makeup!

Lizzie: Scar and Grian sitting in a tree

Lizzie: K

Lizzie: I

Lizzie: S

Lizzie: S

Lizzie: I

Scar: NOOOOOOOOOO

Lizzie: N

Lizzie: G

Lizzie: no you ruined my text chain >:(

Scar: your bullying me im gonna tell joel

Lizzie: you know he'll bully you worse

Lizzie: just saying, I've only met him once and it was very painfully obvious, so you're blind

Scar: ugh you are too much to deal with wel talk later (jk ily ur great)

-

Joel: lizzie told me to tell you that Grian is totally obsessed with you and wants to kiss your neck

Scar: …ew

-

Etho: –link–

Gem: :o etho typed in the chat, everyone gape in amazement

Mumbo: :0

Lizzie: 0.0

Jimmy: !!ヽ(ﾟдﾟヽ)(ﾉﾟдﾟ)ﾉ!!

Grian: wowwwww

Scar: wait what does gape mean again

Gem: … moving on

Scar: :(

Tango: omg Jimmy that's such a cute emotion thingie :3

Jimmy: thank you (*^3(*^o^*)

Grian: I think this counts as PDA punishable by death

Gem: Etho what the heck is that video???

Etho: crime scene from about a month ago. Apparently there was some sort of cult gathering in that house and now it's basically overrun by this mushroom stuff. Thought it was weird

Gem: so why did you send it here?

Etho: … I wanted to?

Etho: Joel sends his weird brain rot videos here all the time, so why not

Joel: my videos are FUN and WHIMSICAL!

Lizzie: I hear him say “can I pet that dog” in a southern accent every time he goes up to Mary please save me

Lizzie: oh and the accent is really bad

Scar: ha! can't make fun of me now joel!!!

Joel: yes I can loser

Gem: let me see if I can do some snooping around Hero Tower for what's going on ⌒(ё)⌒ 

Mumbo: Gem if you have time, could you find out if HG or CG are looking for a partner because like… 

Mumbo: For a friend.

Grian: those emoticons are cursed

Scar: ～～～～～(m--)m

Gem: (*｀Д´)ノ！！！(and no Mumbo, I will not do that lol)

Jimmy: they're my favourite thing ever like look at the little guys!

(〃´ω`〃)(〃´▽`)ﾟ+.ﾟ(´▽`人)ﾟ+.ﾟ

Tango: they're very adorable

Lizzie: agreed

Tango: just like you my love ヽ(*≧ω≦)ﾉ

Grian: GET ME OUT OF THIS HELL

Jimmy: Grian hates me and wants me to be miserable

Grian: correct.

-

They were all called down to the lab, and Scar was glad that he had to wear a facemask in addition to his shades because he didn't want Cuteguy to see the black eye or the red marks on him right now. He also got to wear a lab coat which made him feel very fancy!

It was required that everyone who entered the lab have plastic over their shoes, lab coats, gloves, masks, goggles, and their hair put back. In this case, Scar's hair was just long enough to fit into two pigtails on either side of his head, much to everyone's amusement. Tek and Xisuma were only slightly entertained, but Cuteguy got a picture of it and he was sure it would be used to make fun of him later.

Xisuma introduced them to the lead tech on the mycelium case. “Here's our wonderful biochemist, Zed. He's been experimenting with the samples we got and said it's best if he shows all of us.”

Zed nodded and (presumably) smiled under his mask. “This is some funky stuff!”

“You're telling me!” Cuteguy affirmed, hands on his hips.

Zed led them to a clear chamber, about three feet cubed, with funny dials and tubes coming off of it. “So this is our vacuum chamber, which is rarely used on these tests. Most materials aren't viable in a vacuum chamber because every living thing needs oxygen to survive, blah blah blah, you already know that.” 

He took the lid off and set a petri dish of mycelium into the container on one side, and left a pile of… something… on the other side.

“So this is the mycelium,” he said as he replaced the lid and started pulling locks and hatches and… stuff. Look, Scar wasn't exactly an expert at science! “And I've just put some organic material over here.” 

He turned a knob and pressed a button and a hissing sound started emanating from the chamber. 

“I'm getting the air out now, but you can probably see that the mycelium is already moving. It's very subtle,” he pointed at what he was referencing and all the Heroes leaned in to get a better look. “There are tiny, tiny tendrils that move quite quickly. They can go a couple inches a minute, but it actually gets faster when there's no air.”

The fungus spread out into several directions, only shown by hair-thin purple lines spider webbing over the white surface underneath. Hotguy felt uneasy, like a million little bugs were crawling all over him.

A beep sounded and Zed did another science thing that Hotguy didn't understand before he turned back to them. “So in a couple seconds, you'll see that when the mycelium reaches the organic material, it grows. It seems to have found a way to transfer nutrients and moisture faster than any other organism I've observed.”

And that's exactly what they saw. As soon as one tiny tendril met the dirt or whatever, the tendril expanded and all the way down the web, the mycelium creeped with more vigor, spreading over the entire floor of the chamber. 

“That's totally not unsettling.” Tek mumbled.

Zed nodded. “I don't think you'll like what else I've found.”

Scar frowned and followed Zed into the next room. 

“I really needed to show you this in person because I can barely believe it when I'm looking at it with my own two eyes.” Zed explained as he pulled out a terrarium. 

It was a decent size, four feet by two feet, and along the bottom was about three inches of dirt. There were small plants, just a week past being baby sprouts. He brought out another dish of mycelium and transferred a pinch into the terrarium.

“So I just put a bit of that in there and if I also set this little guy in there…” he pulled out a roach and placed it in the box, not before Hotguy flinched away with a quiet…ish haunted yell. “Don't worry, man, these can't get you!” Zed laughed before he put on a net lid. “This has got every kind of pesticide on it and will not let anything out, I promise you. Now, if we wait a little while, you might be able to notice it.”

For thirty minutes–nope, Scar's ADHD was counting fast, it was actually three or four minutes–they watched as seemingly nothing happened. Then, the roach started moving around faster. It wasn't anything that caught his eye as significant, but Zed thought otherwise. 

“So it's moving faster now because the mycelium has embedded itself.”

“Wh-what?!” Xisuma exclaimed. “How… how could that even happen in that time span?”

“This is a miniature model, so it's not really completely trustworthy. But the mycelium, at least in this lab, has a very fast response time to movement.” Zed grabs a little metal rod and begins trying to poke or bother the roach. “And as I do this– look!” A wall of purple engulfed the roach for a moment and then tried to reach around to find the poker.

“That's… that's like what Ren did to my arrow.” Hotguy said, looking over to Xisuma. 

“It seems like a defense,” Zed told them. “Either the animal controls the fungus or the fungus controls the animal. At first, I thought it had to be the animal in control because it's making the actions to keep itself alive, but the more I think about it… I think the fungus is trying to protect its host.”

Xisuma leaned in to get a better look before he turned to Zed. “What makes you think that?”

“There's some biological precedent. Cordyceps make ant-zombies. I don't think this is exactly the same, but there's got to be a combination of animal and fungal control or that wouldn't happen.” Zed began cleaning up the area, which Hotguy was happy about when he saw the roach get disposed of. “There's an interesting back and forth.”

Tek looked worried, his hair flickering as he asked a question. “How would that work?”

“My best guess is that it's a little bit like…” he took a moment to consider before turning to Hotguy and pointing, “how your legs work, Hotguy. The animal has-” 

“You know how my legs work?” He asked, puzzled as he pointed his gloved finger at himself in surprise.

“Everyone knows how your legs work.” Zed nodded, as if that were just common knowledge.

“I don't know how my legs work.” He turned his head sideways like a confused puppy.

“Well…” Zed stared blankly for a moment. “Essentially, your brain has all these neurons that fire in a specific sequence and your robotic legs take that sequence and translate that into movement.”

“Oh, well I kinda knew that.”

Zed snorted out a laugh and continued. “Anyway! I think that the mycelium can decode the electric signals of the animal. So in this case, it gets the impulses from the roach's eyes that say that I'm trying to poke it and then makes a defense for that.” He began walking them to the exit. “It's quite genius, actually, but it's very concerning as well. If the mycelium you're dealing with has a system all over Hermitopia, then it could possibly sense movements miles away and alert anything… or any one it's connected to.” 

Xisuma and Tek looked at each other with a face Scar wished he understood. His guess was that it wasn't good, but anyone could see that. Tek and Xisuma seemed to have a different level of communication Hotguy wasn't privy to.

“Let me put together a task force for this,” Xisuma declared. “Thank you so much for your help, Zed. Keep us updated on everything.” 

They all disposed of their lab gear outside. Then Tek and Xisuma rushed away together speaking in low voices, leaving Hotguy and Cuteguy to wonder whether they wanted them to follow or not.

Hotguy decided yes, and grabbed Cuteguy's hand lightly, pulling him behind as he caught up with their partners.

It was going to be a long night.

-

Xisuma was pacing in a meeting room, speaking under his breath to himself and Tek was writing something down at the table  as he referenced his comm. Both Hotguy and Cuteguy sat at the end of the table, glancing between each other and the display of panic by their superiors. 

Not that they were actually superior to Hotguy in terms of rank. They were all Junior Executive Heroes… but Hotguy wasn’t that really. He spent all his time on the streets doing things usually, and Tek was glad to take care of the executive work in his place. Glad mostly because Hotguy barely knew how to respond to an email (if he even read it), and when he did respond, it usually was in the format of “lol yep got it”.

Cuteguy scooted his chair closer to Hotguy’s and brought his hand up to place a finger on his partner’s jaw. Hotguy crossed his eyes and mumbled “what are you doing?”

“The bruise is a lot worse than it was when I was trying to wake you up.” He pointed out in a low voice as to not distract the worried Heroes. 

He examined the black eye from different angles, his face scrunched a little in concentration to connect the dots between the visor-covered parts of the bruise and the blooming green and purple parts on his cheekbone. Hotguy was sure that he had to feel the warmth coming to his face or at least see the pink on his cheeks, but if he did, he made no mention of it.

Finally, he scooted back and sighed. “How sore is it?”

“Just like a regular black eye, I guess?” Hotguy shrugged.

Cuteguy gave a slightly pouty face. “Well, come to my room tonight, I’ve got a home remedy I can give you.”

“Inviting me over, isn’t that a bit forward?” Hotguy winked with his bad eye.

In return, Cuteguy pinched his arm, rolled away on the desk chair, and glared.

Hotguy smiled bright and fluttered his eyelashes (even though that wasn’t very visible through his visor at that distance).

The door opened, drawing all the Heroes’ attention to the guest.

“Impulse.” Xisuma said, approaching him and pulling out a chair for him. “Please sit, we have a lot to discuss.”

He nodded, and greeted the others in the room with a cheerful tone. “Hi Tek, hi HG, and nice to meet you, Cuteguy.” He held out a hand and Cuteguy shook it. “Any nickname I can call you?” 

“CG is fine.” He confirmed. “I know that Xisuma doesn’t much like our names either.” He laughed, earning a smile from Hotguy and Tek.

“You’ve gotta admit that the names are pretty weird.” Impulse teased.

Hotguy shook his head defiantly. “Not when you’re this strikingly handsome.” He went to flip his hair only to realize that it was still up in the stupid pigtails. “Oh my Gods, now more people have seen me with this,” he moped as he took the hairbands out.

Xisuma snapped his fingers and cut in. “No more chit-chat, we are in the middle of a very serious situation.” Hotguy and Cuteguy righted themselves while Tek finally set down his pen and leaned back to pay full attention to Xisuma. “I’ve contacted the head, we have confirmation to set up a task force. Impulse, I called you here because I need you to speak with the techs about making defensive devices. There is a real risk that we could be intercepted by whatever…” Xisuma looked right at Impulse. “Wait. You need to know what we found out.” 

Impulse looked around, puzzled. “What happened?”

Tek opened his notebook and slid it to Impulse. “So I know this hasn’t been your area, but we’ve been doing a deep dive on the mycelium that is showing up. Hotguy and Cuteguy first discovered this on an investigative mission to look into a gang. There are some crazy effects when you’re around this stuff and it seems extremely dangerous. A couple days ago, we went on an expedition to grab samples and…” Tek looked to Xisuma, a hesitant look on his face.

“Zed found a lot more than I’d expected him to.” He began pacing back and forth again. “I mean, it was only two days in the lab and now he thinks that this fungus is somewhat sentient? It’s baffling. I mean… I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Tek nodded, a grave look on his face. “In here is the info I found on cordyceps, which Zed mentioned when he showed us his findings.” He said, flipping through the couple pages he’d managed to fill up over the past half-hour. “I really see where he’s coming from and the problem that we have is that this stuff is tiny. I looked into it, and many types of fungi can stretch underground for miles.”

“If this stuff is smart and doing all of the damage we’ve seen already…” Xisuma articulated, stopping in place and finally sitting down. “I… I don’t want to see what happens next.”

Impulse flicked his eyes around the room, mouth ajar. “Why am I just finding out about this?”

“We just found out about this!” Hotguy chimed in, determined to not be completely useless to the conversation. “When me and Cuteguy reported what happened the first time we saw the stuff, False didn’t believe us.”

“You spoke to False first?!” Tek asked, bewildered.

“Yeah!” Hotguy confirmed.

Tek pinched his fingers on his temples and his hair sparked. “Oh my Gods, Hotguy! You know she never believes you!” He stood up flicked his firewick tail with irritation. “False has never taken you seriously because you lied to her during training and she’s wanted you gone since! I’m the one that had to convince her to keep you on the team!”

“She wants me gone?” Hotguy asked, pursing his lips awkwardly.

“I need to get out of here.” Tek rolls his eyes.

Xisuma grabs his shoulder. “Tek, just sit down. Hotguy is stupid sometimes, lets move on.”

Cuteguy snickered and Hotguy elbowed him in the side and stuck out his lower lip as if to say “why are you being so mean to me?”

Xisuma continued. “Anyway! False agreed to let us set up a task force for this, so lets get working. Impulse. I need you to assemble the techs and make defensive gadgets. We’re in need of spore detection and possible ways to destroy mycelium when it overruns people. Tek has burned the stuff, which seemed somewhat effective, but there should be something more viable for killing it without harming people around it.”

“As for you, Tek…”

-

Tek was in the middle of a meeting–an IMPORTANT meeting regarding the task force–when Cub showed up outside his door.

The deceptively neutral look on his face sent Tek into shock and he looked at the Heroes he was meeting with and laughed nervously, “Oh, look at the time, I think I have another meeting right now I'm so sorry now pleasegoandwewilltalklaterbye!”

He led them out the door and looked at Cub with the fearfulest of eyes.

“Can I-” he said with a very high-pitched tone, his entire body tighter than a bow string. “Can I help you?”

“Not a great question.” Cub said as he pushed his way into the room and sat in the chair across from his desk. 

Tek had an executive Hero office, very small because he was rarely in it, but it was fun to have a place to store all of his Hero-y things. Technically, the office belonged to all of the executive Heroes–him, Xisuma, Hotguy, and Impulse–but only he and Xisuma really used it. Hotguy probably forgot it existed, and Impulse was too busy coordinating with the technicians to use an office so far away from them. 

With a forced smile, Tek walked around his desk and sat down. “What would a better question be?”

“Maybe you can ask why I'm here?”

“Why are you here?” The terror he felt spilled out in his voice.

Cub leaned forward. “Why were they roomed together?”

“What… haha… I have no idea-”

“Yes, you do.”

“Hey!” Tek stood and began pacing back and forth, gesturing with his hands. “I wasn't the one that made that assignment! I just delivered the keys to Hotguy! It was a busy day and I didn't have the mind to see if they'd been put in the same room because, I mean, I didn't think the housing people would do that!” He sighed, exasperated.

“You should have caught it sooner.” Cub knew he was being unreasonable.

“They were in the same room for two days!” Tek defended. “I caught it the second day and the problem was fixed on the third.”

Unfortunately for Tek, Cub had lived his life on the thin line between rational and irrational, and he didn't back down from an argument. “I want you to send Cuteguy home.”

“Woah… Cub, that's not something I can do.”

“You're Junior Hero Coordinator, what's the problem with getting Cuteguy out?” 

“The problem” Tek shot back, eyebrows curved up with shock, “is that False wouldn't like that! False would kill me. ”

“You're lucky I'm not killing you right now.” Cub stated as he stood and walked to the door. “Cuteguy can work on a different mission. This is Hotguy's business.” The door slammed shut.

Tek ran his hands down his face and screamed silently to himself. “What am I gonna do, what am I gonna do?!”

-

A knock sounded at Grian’s door while he was getting ready to crash for the night, and he eyed it nervously. Who on Earth would be knocking at this time?

He padded lightly over to the door and stood on his tip-toes to see through the peep-hole.

Hotguy. Hotguy was there, outside his door. Waiting. Why did I offer the home remedy, am I really about to willingly let Hotguy into my room?

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized what he was wearing. He was in a t-shirt and boxers. NOT VERY CUTEGUY OF HIM.

“Give me a second!” He squeaked out, and began rushing around his room to find something decent enough to wear. He tore open his closet and looked between the potential options. The super cute shorts or the moderately cute shorts? 

WHY AM I WONDERING HOW CUTE TO BE FOR HOTGUY?!

He chose the moderately cute shorts that only had hearts and bows instead of hearts, bows, and lace edging, and then tore off his t-shirt to replace it with a camisole that worked better with the shorts–NO NOT BECAUSE IT SHOWED OFF HIS COLLARBONES WHICH HE THOUGHT WERE HIS BEST FEATURE ABSOLUTELY NOT.

He put on leg warmers because he felt weird having Hotguy see his bare legs because he never had before and then he went to the mirror and… what was he going to do about his face? He just washed it, he didn’t want to put makeup on again!

He searched around his room for something, anything that would work as an adequate disguise and he settled on… Cuteguy branded sleep mask. 

He sighed with defeat and pulled it over his head, waiting to put it over his eyes until he got to the door. “You still there?” He called through the door.

“Yes, sir, I am!” Hotguy responded with a very sad attempt at a British accent.

Grian turned around one last time to see if there was anything else that he needed to do before he could let Hotguy inside. My nest! He rushed to his bed and grabbed a pillow. I don’t want to destroy my nest just so that imbecile can come in here…

He turned back around and went to the bathroom to grab the vitamin K cream and the witch hazel, settling to just give him the remedies in the hall.

Grian pulled the sleep mask over his eyes and finally opened the door. “I’m not doing my makeup for you, so you’ll have to deal with me being blind.” He squeezed himself through the door, trying to block the view into his room, and sat on the floor. 

Hotguy laughed. His robotic legs creaked a little as he lowered himself to the floor to sit in front of Cuteguy, who must have looked very strange. “Well, this is a new look for you, Cutie.”

“How was I supposed to know you would come to my room right after I showered?!” He complained, a false sharp tone to his voice. “You’re impossible to predict. It’s irritating.”

Grian could hear the smile in Hotguy’s voice as he responded and it sent butterflies to his stomach. “Well, I find unpredictability quite attractive. Not as much when you flew me halfway across the city without my consent, but unpredictable plus consent is a perfect combination for a relationship.”

“We are not in a relationship!” He grumbled. “Now shut up and let me explain the remedies to you, you stupid… fuck weasel.”

“Fuck weasel?!” Hotguy burst out laughing. “Where did you get that from?”

Grian hoped that his harsh tone was enough to hide his growing fondness for the idiot, but it was very difficult to come up with insults now. “I said shut up. Now, this is vitamin K. You put a bit on your finger and you can just rub it lightly over the bruise. Before we do that, though, let’s clean it with some witch hazel. It might sting a little, but it will help with the swelling.”

“Alright, Doctor Cutie Pie,” Hotguy giggled.

Grian internally rolled his eyes, and grabbed around in front of him for each of the supplies. He found the bottle of witch hazel and the cotton round and began to unscrew the bottle cap when Hotguy stopped him.

“Do you need any help?” He asked.

“No.” He turned his wrist to pour the witch hazel on the cotton round and Hotguy caught his hand to stop him from spilling it.

“Looks like you need my help, Cutie. Your coordination isn’t great when you can’t see, y’know.” His hand still lingered against Grian’s and he swore it was tingling. It couldn’t have been emotions. There had to be something real, or he was really just going crazy all over again.

“Ugh, fine. Just soak this and put it on the bruise.” He dictated with a particularly rude tone.

“Geez, don’t have to be all sassy with me.” Hotguy responded, the smile still spilling from the sound of his voice as he took the items from Grian’s hands. “Aren’t nurses meant to be nice to their patients?”

“I am not your nurse!” He shot back. “I am your equal and you will treat me like it!”

Hotguy snorted. “You act like my superior.”

“Well, you like to pretend you have no idea what you’re doing, so it’s not exactly hard.”

“I’m glad you think I’m pretending.” Grian felt a wet cotton pad be placed in his hand and he flinched a little. “Because I’d really appreciate it if you did this for me.”

Grian would give a puzzled gaze if he could, but with the sleep mask over his eyes, he opted to move his aural feathers back, tilt his head to the side, and say “You, the big bad Superhero, want me to dab your eye for you?”

“What if I don’t do the right pressure?” Hotguy asked, as if that were a reasonable question. “My sweet baby little eyes are sensitive. I need someone else to make sure the job is done right.”

Grian held back a scoff. “Sure you do. Close your eyes so I can actually look at what I’m doing.”

Hotguy hummed in agreement. “Okay! My eyes are closed.”

Grian furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you messing with me?”

“No!” Hotguy exclaimed. “I take your secret identity very seriously.”

“Okay… if you look at me, I won’t hesitate to knock you out.” He said as he slowly pulled the sleep mask up with one hand, peeking through the bottom to assure Hotguy was in fact being serious before he put it up the rest of the way. 

He grabbed the cotton pad so it would be in his dominant hand, then scooched forward a little to dab Hotguy’s cheek. With the first touch, Hotguy flinched back and let out a scandalized gasp. “Hoowoo-ooo, that’s cold! You didn’t warn me!”

“You’re such a baby, you know that?” Cuteguy chastised. Inside though, Grian was filled with a cacophony of feelings that he really didn’t think belonged there. Being trusted and wanted by Hotguy felt like a privilege at that moment. Like they were sharing something secret. It felt silly. 

He’s so pretty… I’m so close that I could just… no. I’m not going to kiss someone when they’re blindfolded! Most importantly, though, I’m not going to kiss HOTGUY of all people. Think of Scar. Picture Scar. Beautiful, silly, adorable, and sweet Scar. Oh no now I miss him… He’s in hospital, I should really text him again.

“I’ve got to get your actual eye, so I’m gonna look away a little so I can kind of see what I’m doing but not see you see you when I pull up your goggles.” He told Hotguy, who nodded with a small smile.

He averted his eyes and pulled the visor up just on the one side so he could pat down the rest of the dark bruise. While he was doing it, Hotguy’s nose scrunched up a little and he giggled. “That kind of tickles!”

Too much for my stupid heart I need to stop.

He pulled away, set Hotguy’s glasses back into place and replaced the sleep mask over his eyes. “I’m done now. You can open your eyes.”

“You were so gentle,” Hotguy reported, much to Grian’s displeasure. “Thank you. Now, what else was there… vitamin J?”

“K. Vitamin K.” Grian corrected as he crumpled up the cotton pad in his hand. “It’s the little tube in front of me. You can do that one yourself.”

Hotguy took a moment before he countered. “But you have such gentle hands.”

“And you have hands that work, too, so do it yourself.”

“Please?”

“Why are you so insistent that I do it?” Grian grumbled out.

“It’s your home remedy. I only want the best and you’re the master at it.”

Grian found this slightly obnoxious. Hotguy had clearly been head over heels for him since the beginning, but now that Grian was beginning to kind of… reciprocate… which may have been too strong a word, it was particularly annoying because it roused up feelings that he was desperately trying to shove down into the void.

“You’re not an idiot.”

“How about…” Hotguy drawled out. “You don’t take the mask off. I guide your hand to my face and you apply it with your magic hands?”

“Are you serious?”

Hotguy’s smile returned to his voice. “Sounds like a yes to me!”

Grian’s hand was grabbed, vitamin K cream was squeezed onto his finger, and he regrettably did not stop it from happening. “You’re an idiot.” He sighed.

“Oh, I’m stupid for you.”

 OJGNVOS:RGJ{OEGJVN DJSNRGPPAFJAV No. no. nooooooo. You can’t just say that to me. I am going to need to hibernate to recover from this stupid, stupid crush.

“Okay, I think that’s good. Let me pull up my visor real quick.” His hand was away from Grian’s for a second and when it returned, the stupid tingly sensation came back. “Okay, so…” he pulled Grian’s hand up and forward and presumably lowered his face toward Grian because his face felt significantly lower than it had been before. “This is my face. Do your magic.”

Grian began swiping his fingers back and forth before he started laughing. “You put way too much!” He rubbed the cream gently over Hotguy’s face, but he felt globs from the sheer amount Hotguy had apparently dispensed. “And I don’t even know where your bruises are!”

Hotguy’s giggly reply almost made Grian melt. “No, don’t worry, you’re getting it!” He adjusted his hand so he was grabbing not Grian’s wrist, but his hand, and clumsily guided him around, streaking the vitamin K up and down his eye then onto his forehead. “You’re doing perfect. Sorry I put too much on!”

They were laughing together when suddenly…

“Um.” Tek said from down the hall. 

Hotguy returned his shades to his nose, and Grian shot his hand back to lay in his lap.

“I… um… you two should be sleeping… in separate rooms.” Tek squeaked out awkwardly.

Hotguy responded with a casual, cool tone. “Yeah! That’s what I was about to do. Cutie here had the idea for a way to get rid of my black eye faster, so I was letting him teach me.”

“Oh…” 

The silence was deafening. Grian gathered up his things and rushed back into his room as fast as he could. 

Back to the door, he took off his sleep mask and huffed a breath.

That was the most humiliating experience of my life. I need to change my secret identity.

-

Grian: hi scar!

Scar: hi grain!

Grian: …

Scar: grian… my bad

Grian: I don’t get how you do that all the time

Scar: it’s a marical when I spell soemthing right

Grian: yeah… yeah, sure is

Grian: anyway I was wondering how you’re doing

Grian: I know being in hospital can be really draining

Scar: you know what iv been doing pretty okay actualy

Scar: their’s a cute nurse

Grian: what????

Scar: im kidding!

Scar: i feel okay for the most part. tests are just the worst tho becuse they have to wait on results four daysssssss

Grian: for four days? Or just for days?

Scar: for days

Scar: four days would be a marical

Grian: it’s miracle btw

Scar: whatever

Scar: anyway the testing place is aparently super far away ad super slow so i can only do that one becuz im a medical mistery or something

Grian: woah that’s intense

Grian: I hope you can get out soon

Scar: me two but the upside is that i get to play games all day :) 

Grian: wowwww playing games instead of doing your work, how bad of a professor

Scar: its esentialy work because im playing the sims and making buildings B)

Grian: You know I hate how bad the physics are in there

Scar: yep!

Grian: this is why civil engineers and architects don’t get along. You design ridiculous things and I want to make them but it’s physically impossible so I let my anger out on you

Scar: :3 you want to make my designs?

Grian: yeah! You’re a great designer and you know it

Scar: aw shucks

Grian: okay mister modesty I’ve got to get to bed

Scar: im already in bed

Grian: me too but I need to sleep

Scar: okay goodnight!!!! <3 <3 <3

Grian: good night <3

-

A few days had passed and Scar was sick of being holed up in his room. It was pretty miserable just sitting there waiting to be cleared for another mission. On top of that, Tango was doing everything to keep him and Cuteguy away from each other. He'd started pulling out random ‘facts’ and ‘statistics’ with no clear explanation any time he ran into him or came to his room to check on him:

“Studies show that recovering alone is 3 times more effective!”

“Pink is actually a bad color for your psyche, so you should stay away from your cute counterpart.”

“Did you know that being around people that are nice to you makes you 75% more likely to be healthier! I heard Cuteguy can be pretty mean…”

“95% of hot people are mistreated emotionally :(“ 

It was bizarre.

Thankfully, Tek wasn't always working, so Scar left his room at 3 am after a useless attempt at sleep. He wandered up to the roof in his wheelchair, and parked himself near the parapet. 

The night sky watched him through a thousand tiny pin-holes and he admired it, wishing he could see more. He stood and leaned against the wall so he could look over the city, lit up with thousands of lights. Of course, Scar being Scar, he grinned at the architecture and made a game of spotting the buildings he'd had a part of designing or renovating. He wanted to go back to work. He wanted to design and talk to people and rant to Grian, the only person who wasn't bothered by him repeating the same information over and over again like clockwork.

He missed Jellie. He just wanted to cuddle with her and smell her gross fish breath when she woke him up in the morning.

All the things that defined his life at home were completely stripped from this environment, and it was jarring. Having to lie about where he was to all his friends was getting harder because they really wanted to come visit him and make him feel better. To ensure that they wouldn’t do that, he had to lie and say he was in a special unit that couldn’t have visitors, which really made it sound like he was even more sick and even more in need of things to cheer him up.

Truthfully, he did need some cheering up, but the guilt of lying definitely soured the experience.

“Oh, hi there.”

“KDJWBSODRJEBO AAAAAA” Scar nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice from behind him. He whipped around and saw the familiar pink and black, and remembered at the last moment to disguise himself. He activated his power and made a scandalized face. “You scared me!”

Cuteguy doubled over in a laugh and shot an incredulous look at Hotguy. “All I did was say hi!”

“There was no warning!” He sputtered out. “You… you could have been a-a-a villain or something!” 

“How do I warn you for a hi?” He asked, crossing his arms with a challenging smirk on his face.

Hotguy opened his mouth to rebuttal, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth and crossed his arms, which earned a howling laugh from Cuteguy.

“You don't need to mock me…” Scar mumbled under his breath.

Cuteguy sighed, letting the last couple chuckles go, then he leaned against the ledge, keeping a good distance between himself and Hotguy. “Fancy seeing you up here.”

Scar really tried to rip his eyes away from the grin on Cuteguy's lips, but it was hopeless. Here at the top of Hero Tower, Cuteguy looked extra beautiful, with the light of the city sparkling off his wings and hair. “Just came up here for… uh… some fresh air.” He said, scratching at his neck with a light smile.

“I get it. Those rooms get cramped.” Cuteguy said as he looked over Hermitopia and the night sky that was dulled by the light pollution. “Wish I could go out to the middle of nowhere more often to see the stars for real.”

Hotguy nodded and finally tore his eyes away to see the sparse sky again. There was so much more they couldn't see, and it felt like a travesty to sit here knowing that they were being scammed by the horrors of modern architecture. 

“You know, light pollution is very harmful for the environment and there are a lot of solutions for it, but the government isn't interested in funding that because it would be an expensive upfront cost.” Cuteguy turned to look at Scar with curious eyes. “The architectural and engineering industries could push it themselves, but since it's not profitable and requires more individual light… thingies to get the desired effect, it's a lost cause.” He rolled his eyes and gestured around wildly with his hands. “Because the good lights have a smaller scope of what they cover so that the light isn't like… bleeding everywhere, but it's just so common that no one seems to care! Light pollution can keep people up, make people stress, and cause heart problems and stuff. Don't even get me started on the automobile industry's connection to light pollution. It's a tragesty!”

Cuteguy snorted. Hotguy looked scandalized.

“Is the doom of our world funny to you?”

“No! No, you said tragesty…” he choked back a laugh. “Not a word.”

“You know what I meant!”

“You're right, I did.” He shook his head. 

Their eyes lingered on each other’s and Cuteguy said with a gentle voice, “your eye looks much better than before.”

“Thanks to you, Cutie.” Scar responded in a silky smooth voice in return, leaning his cheek on his hand with a crooked smile on his face.

-

Grian jumped back from the far too intimate moment.

“Woah! Why aren't you wearing a mask?” He covered his eyes. “I'm not meant to see you undisguised!” 

In his head, Grian was thinking Oh my gods I've just seen him undisguised and I'm going to see him in normal life some time and I'm going to be so rattled. And what if he's attractive as a normal everyday person oh gods I'm doomed.

Hotguy gasped, “No, no, no, don't worry!” He tapped at Grian's hands to make him put them down. “I'm hiding my identity with my power.”

His power. Grian's eyes grew wide. He'd never been able to figure out what his power was and this didn't exactly fit into what he even thought it could be. Now that he looked at him, he could see a light red glow in his eyes. What is he hiding?

A silence yawned between them and Hotguy frowned slightly. “What's wrong?”

Oh my gods he’s tilting his head at me like a puppy he’s so darn cute…

Cuteguy recalibrated his brain and put it back into gear. “What is your power? I've been wondering for a while. I mean it seems really cool.”

Hotguy turned away and let out a humorless laugh. “No, it’s not a good one.”

“It's been plenty useful! You've gotten us out of a few pinches.” 

“Not exactly what I meant.”

Hotguy was averting his gaze and looking down. As much as Grian knew it was probably best to drop the subject, his curiosity was killing him… and he kind of wanted to get to know Hotguy better… maybe… and the only way he really knew how to connect with Hotguy in a way he felt comfortable was being kind of rude and pushy.

“What did you mean?” He asked, voice coming out more confrontational than he intended, but he pridefully didn’t correct it.

Hotguy turned and snapped. “Can we talk about something else?!” Like a puppy surprised at his own outburst, he recoiled and a look of worry blanched his face. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, just… it's…”

Grian took a step forward and closed some space between them, much to Hotguy's visible discomfort. “This is exactly why I'm so curious.” He looked Hotguy up and down and then leaned his chin on his fist, trying to seem casual. “I feel like as your partner, I should know. I can't figure out why you've never mentioned it and now…”

Hotguy took a couple steps back, and Grian could see his eyes light up a little brighter as he did so. He's using it more! What could possibly be helping him right now?

“It's a long and complicated story that I don't really like telling and half-answers are really confusing!” He defended. “I just… I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Grian's eyes widened. What about his power could make me uncomfortable??? “See, you're just making me more and more curious the more you avoid it. And now you're making me worry, too.”

Hotguy sighed, worry plastered on his face. “Well, um… uh… did you see the news?” He was rushing through his words as if he had a timer to beat, and he let out a panicked chuckle between every couple sentences. “There's a group of people that believe the mycelium is a material the aliens are using to make a human harvest. Really silly stuff out there. Don't know how people come up with it. Actually, I've come up with weirder ideas, so I guess I do. Also I guess the mycelium is really weird but I don’t think it’s like trying to eat humans level… Oh! And what do you think about the word indibity- no- indubiubbly… nope. Indibatidy… I… well how can I ask you what you think about it if I can't say it? Ha, silly silly me.”

“I think the word you're looking for is indubitably.”

“Yep! Yep you got it! I think it's a very silly word and I wish I could say it all the time. Wouldn't that be funny to respond to simple questions with that? Like… like… are you a fan of possums? Indubidoo!” He stuck out his tongue as if he was trying to reset it and then tried again.”Indibiably!” He grinned. “Ooh! I think I said it!”

Grian couldn't help but smile a little bit. “Close enough.” He focused his gaze more into Hotguy’s glowing irises and furrowed his brows. “But I seriously need to know what I'm dealing with here. You can give me the short answer, I just need something to go off of. Powers are really important to coordinate our strategy.”

Hotguy sat down in his wheelchair and hugged himself with his giant muscular arms. “Are you sure? I really… I don't want to make you think of me differently.”

“I don't think you need to worry about that.” He comforted. “Just… a brief description will do.”

Hotguy ran his hands over his face and returned to hugging himself, making himself small. “It's… it's manipulation.”

A lot of things clicked in Grian's head at that moment. The villains they'd stopped when Hotguy barked an order. The way time seemed to slow or stop when Hotguy made the demand. The mycelium forming into a silhouette when Hotguy demanded it reveal itself.

And now, as he looked into his eyes, he realized that he was manipulating Cuteguy now. A cold feeling washed over him.

“Of what? And how?” He asked, taking a step back.

“Anything sentient can be manipulated. I can speak it and anyone who hears can be affected. It's not…” he must have seen the discomfort that washed over Cuteguy's face, because he scrambled to explain himself. “I swear, I really don't abuse it, I'm very careful and I don't just go manipulating everywhere I go. I try not to use it too much.”

“I see your eyes glowing like all the time. And… and you've manipulated me without telling me?” It was strange, but in a way he felt betrayed. He knew what Hotguy’s power could do in some ways, but he realized that he could have been warned. But he wasn’t. “I don't… I can't believe you wouldn't even tell me.”

“I'm just manipulating you into not recognizing me, it's not anything bad!”

If he can make me not recognize him… what else can he do? What if he’s been making me fall for him? I’ve felt so unnaturally comfortable around him and then I’ve wanted to kiss him, but… I hated him. I couldn’t stand him! What is he doing to me?!

“I just… I don't know if there were other times and if there were, what have you convinced me of?”

“I'm sorry! I… I really don't like telling anyone because I know how it sounds.”

He didn't answer his question.

Grian felt incredibly apprehensive. The thought that Hotguy could pretty much talk anything into happening scared him. He's been frozen by Hotguy's manipulation and he had no way to fight against it. Sure, Hotguy released him from it, but… his eyes glowed so often.

I can’t take this right now. I went up here to get away from my thoughts about you and now you’ve left me with a thousand more. How am I supposed to trust him? Can he manipulate me without me even knowing???

“We… we can talk about this later.” Cuteguy took a deep breath. “I understand why you were hesitant to tell me.”

“Please, let me‐”

“Not now.” He insisted.

He turned to walk the way he'd came, but Hotguy stood to follow him. As he turned around, feathers rustled and brows furrowed, he saw Hotguy fall on the floor and he couldn't help the laugh that escaped from his mouth.

“Oh my gods, I'm sorry for laughing. Are you okay?” He asked, holding out a hand to his partner.

“Yeah,” Hotguy stood, chuckled, and scratched his neck sheepishly. “Forgot I didn't have my legs on for a second!” 

For a short moment, Hotguy gazed into his eyes with sickening fondness. Then, his face shifted to something more serious, almost insecure, and he held Cuteguy's hand between both of his. “I really hope you can understand. Um… if you need me to, I can explain everything.”

Grian gave a curt nod and took his hand from Hotguy. He walked away without another word.

Chapter Text

Scar: hi besties :3

Joel: not your friend.

Jimmy: yes we are!!! How are you doing buddy?

Scar :/ still very sick

Lizzie: what's wrong?

Jimmy: yeah, it's been a while. Are you out of hospital yet?

Gem: are you sure you don't want me to visit you with cookies?

Scar: there's just something wrong with my legs and I can't really do a hole lot. I'm at home, but I don't feel good enuf for guests, so I'll lyk when I'm ready to see you guys again <3

Lizzie: who's taking care of you???

Scar: dony wory! My next door neighbor Cub is the best and we've been close a while, so he's helping out a lot

Jimmy: okayyyyyyy

Joel: we seriously don't mind helping. I mean, all of us want to help, so just reach out whenever

Scar: thank you thank you but I'm okay

Scar: I actually wanted to ask how all of you are :3

Lizzie: me and Joel are doing well! Flower shop is getting a bit busier as we go into spring :>

Jimmy: Tango just ate my last slice of cake, so I'm currently considering divorce :(

Lizzie: justified.

Joel: lizzie you're so wonderful and gorgeous and amazing please please please don't divorce me I love you

Lizzie: ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌

Scar: the couples are fighting

Joel: oh are you and grian in a fight?

…

Grian: why was I mentioned

Grian: oh

Grian: Joel killed the chat, everybody!

Gem: geez. Ban him.

Joel: NO THATS JUST LIKE DIVORCE

Gem: you're married to this friend group?

Joel: … no comment

Scar: aw Joel you really do care

Lizzie: he genuinely scoffed just now.

Jimmy: LMAO

Jimmy: Tango is giggling

Grian: tell him to join the chat

Jimmy: he said he's too sleepy

Grian: wimp. I was up 20 hours today and I'm in chat

Jimmy: the hotel has been super busy and me and him have been doing double time in the evenings

Scar: oh dang :( hope you guys get some good rest

Grian: wimps.

Gem: Etho I see you lurking

Etho: nuh-uh.

Lizzie: oh also good news! I won some tickets to a Hero Commission charity gala this weekend if any of you wanna come with :) I've got 5, so it's me, Joel, and 3 others

Mumbo: will it include hotguy merch? φ(．．)

Lizzie: yeeessssssssss

Mumbo: I'm in

Gem: Etho didn't you want to go w a plus one?

Etho: yea.

Etho: but stop airing out my secrets.

Lizzie: ik Jimmy is a commission hater so I'm assuming we're good? Mumbo, Etho and mysterious plus one?

Grian: yeah sorry can't go

Lizzie: Scar I assume plans aren't good to make atm?

Scar: yeah :/ but i wanr to see all the pictures!!

Lizzie: and Gem is probably gonna be taking pics so (／▽＼)♪ if you get a moment away from the heroes would you use your super amazing work camera for our photos?

Gem: yes I can! The dress code is formal, so I'm gonna make yall look dazzling

Etho: formal?

Gem: yep

Mumbo: easy

Etho: oh no.

-

Scar put his phone down at his side and grimaced at the ceiling. He pulled his comm from his nightstand and texted the only person who would know.

Hotguy: hey cutie did you know we had a gahla ths week end ???

He brought his hand to his lips and resisted the urge to start biting his nails as he scratched lightly at the thin skin.

Cuteguy: Yea. Saturday 7:30. Why?

Why did he never read his emails? Why did they have to only have things written instead of broadcasted very clearly into his ear so he would absorb the information?!

Cuteguy: They sent you your outfit right?

Scar looked around his room, stood and wobbled his way over to the closet, then opened the door to the apartment to see if maybe there was a box or a hanger waiting for him.

Nope.

It was Thursday night.

When was he supposed to get this fabled outfit?

Hotguy: uh no

Hotguy: when did you get youds 

Hotguy: *yors

Hotguy: *you'res

Cuteguy: two days ago… call someone?

Hotguy: WHO

Cuteguy: idk just text Tek or something, he knows everything somehow

Scar sat back on his bed and followed his orders and immediately switched the chat to Tek. 

Hotguy: hi when do i get my gala outfit?

Scar watched the chat for a moment before he realized that it was 1 am and Tek was probably not waiting to receive this stupid text, so he switched back to Cuteguy's messages.

Hotguy: okay

Hotguy: done

Hotguy: btw

Hotguy: are you okya

Hotguy: okay*

Scar waited. And waited. At the mortifying realization that Cuteguy was not okay and that's why he wasn't answering, he turned over and hid his face in his pillows. 

Why did he have to ask? He screamed into the fabric and threw it across the room, laying back on the bed like a dead fish. Just when he was being sweet! Just when I thought maybe he could like me!  

He groaned and punched the bed without much real biting force. He was tired already. This was just the cherry on top to the insane week he'd been having and he really should be sleeping. But that gorgeous sassy bird boy had to be the only thing he could think of and the gut twisting poke of what had happened just last night made it all the worse.

He never hid that he liked Cuteguy. Sure, he tried to tone it down a little bit recently because he was definitely getting the hint after the yelling and the uncomfortable rooming situation. 

But since Cuteguy held onto him in that storm drain… he'd been gaining hope. Gleaning some semblance of what could be if only he bided his time. 

Manipulation! He thought, grumbling with frustration. Why manipulation?! 

There wasn't a better word for what he did. He thought hard about what he wanted the person or being to do, activated his power, usually shouted the command, and it happened. That was pretty cut and dry manipulation.

At this point in his life, he really only used it occasionally at work and often when he was at home and needed to manipulate his legs to do what he wanted them to do. 

Manipulating his body with his mind was such an odd feeling. Like he asked his legs to move and they jerkily did so in ways he didn't have a whole lot of control over. Manipulation wasn't great for fine motor skills, but it could help him when he was about to fall or wanted to get to the toilet in the middle of the night and didn't want to feel around for his cane.

That kind of manipulation was mostly harmless. He didn't ever do manipulation that was physically harmful to the villains he fought. 

At least, not anymore.

He could admit that he made bad choices in the past. It made it that much more painful when Cuteguy stepped away from him.

He knew he could hurt him. He so desperately didn't want to.

He buried himself under three layers of blankets and laid on his front, curling up while he gathered the layers up to hold in his fists, tight to his chest. He pouted his lips and looked over at his stuffed animals.

“Finny, am I going crazy?” 

No response.

“Katy Bee, what do you think?”

No response.

He scoffed. “Fine. Be that way.” He rolled over and faced the window instead. He noticed now that it had started raining and there was the soothing sound of pattering water against the glass.

He was nearly ready to listen to the melody and fall into his silly head canon story about Anakin Skywalker as he drifted off before he remembered. 

“Good night, Finny and Katy Bee.” He cooed and gave each stuffed cat a kiss before he settled back down. 

He couldn't go to bed letting them think he was mad at them!

-

Grian, frustrated for many reasons, but the main one being Hotguy, went into the training hall the next morning with his guns blazing. Every dummy set in his path was shot clean through. Every target would need replaced. He’d gone through 30 or 40 magazines by the time he’d encountered an issue. Unfortunately, his guns weren't built for rapid fire for such a prolonged period, and he messed something up. It wasn't firing right. It felt… jiggly? He didn't know what was wrong with it, but he sure as hell wasn't going to try to fix it himself.

He slinked his way over to the tech floor with his broody sunglasses, dressed head to toe in sweats. This was the very last thing he wanted to do with his day. Above this was

1. Cry in bed
2. Eat ice cream in bed
3. Destroy the city
4. Watch Free Willy
5. Cry outside of bed

Okay maybe he really didn't have anything better to do, but it still didn't lift his bad mood.

When the elevator door opened, he was met with two faces. Tek and… a tech. He didn't know who it was.

The tension that was instantly formed between the three of them was palpable. Grian had half the mind to close the elevator door before the silence killed him, but that's when Tek spoke up.

“Hey CG!” Tek exclaimed much too loudly, eyebrows curved into the very essence of worried discomfort. “I- uh… this is Cub. He's… he's Hotguy's tech…” he laughed awkwardly. “Really cool guy, y'know…”

“Leave.” Cub said.

“Okay.” Came the timid response. Tek shimmied his way into the elevator, and Grian stepped out as he eyed Tek warily. “I'm gonna… go give Hotguy his suit… See you later, guys!” He waved with a very forced smile.

Grian stared on with confusion until the elevator door shut. He turned to Cub and jabbed his thumb toward the door. “Any idea what that was about?”

Cub glared at him. “Follow me.” He said plainly before turning on his heel and walking away.

After a moment of jumbled thoughts and hesitation, he followed.

They ended up in a lab. This lab had just about everything, all organized into the 6 or 7 stations that Grian could identify as he walked in. Robotics, chemistry, biology, physics, astronomy, and… gaming setup?

While he was distracted, Cub shut the door behind them.

“So… what was it that brought you to the tech floor?” Cub asked.

His tone was unreadable. Clearly he wasn't completely neutral like he sounded, otherwise he would have asked that outside. Tek's reaction was one of either embarrassment or terror, so he might need to take that into account.

Cuteguy responded cooly, crossing his arms. “Guns are jammed. Need some TLC.”

Cub held out his hand, eyes half lidded and bored.

Grian handed his guns over.

What the fuck is going on?

“So,” Cub stated, beginning to disassemble Cuteguy's pistols. “How is it? Being a Hero?”

“It's been good.” He responded simply, standing around five feet away from Cub's workbench. That was the only amount of distance that felt… safe(?) in this situation. 

“How'd you get that splint?” He barely glanced over, referring to Cuteguy's wing.

Grian racked his brain for where Cub might have come up… Scar talked about having a neighbor named Cub? Was it Cub? Yeah. Could it be the same Cub? Possibly, but that didn't give him much information on why this guy led him to his workshop and was asking him these questions.

“Broke my wing on a mission.”

“Oh, really.” That wasn't a question. “Tell me about that.”

“Um…” Cub had stopped tinkering and instead he was staring directly into Grian's soul with his inscrutable gaze. He took a deep breath, trying to level his expression to be as neutral as possible. “Had to get me and Hotguy out of an alley infested with mycelium. Too narrow and it snapped.”

“Oh, so it's Hotguy's fault?” He asked. This one at least sounded more like a question than the last one, but it definitely felt more like a statement.

“No.” He shook his head once. “It was a mistake.”

“So that's why you berated him?” Cub asked, picking up the gun that hadn't been disassembled yet, and fidgeting with it mindlessly. “I mean, I can think of a million reasons why a first year Hero would go after one that's been going for almost a decade, right?” He laughed.

Grian furrowed his brows.

He was out of his depth. He had no weapons on him. He was face to face with someone he really didn't know and he didn't know how to react.

“I told Tek that if he didn't keep you and Hotguy in check that I would kill you with my own two hands. And I'm definitely thinking about it.” Cub shrugged, acting as if this was a totally casual conversation between friends. 

“I mean, making my best friend feel like a fool isn't exactly the biggest cardinal sin, but I'd consider myself a good friend and well… we both know he's in love with you.” He rolled his eyes and looked down, leaning his back against the desk.

He… he talks about me?

 “So when I hear that you told him he's a useless, unimportant, replaceable sack of shit, you can imagine that it made me mad.” With the hand holding the gun, he flipped his hand out in a gesture of mutual understanding. 

That mutual understanding seemed to involve the barrel of a gun aimed at Grian's body, and that wasn't exactly the most comforting agreement he'd come across. “I… I never said that.” He defended, taking a step back.

“Oh you didn't have to say it.” Cub scoffed. “I've got all the evidence I need from the way he talks about you.”

Grian was frozen in place. An aura seemed to form around the room, dark and hazy.

“It's crazy how in just a few months, you broke him.” Cub spoke with a low voice. “You made him think that he wasn't good enough. Wasn't worth anything.”

Maybe he was hallucinating, but he swore he could see fangs slowly forming from Cub's teeth and jagged dark grey wings appearing behind him.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!

“One more misstep from you and either I end up in prison or you end up far, far away from here.” 

He pulled the trigger. A loud shot rang out, but no bullet to show for it. He'd shot a blank.

Cuteguy was shaking, eyes wide.

“Now get out.” He snarled.

He didn't hesitate to run.

-

The gala was very fancy, very formal, and very uncomfortable for Scar. He had to wear trousers over his robotic legs because nobody knew that he was unable to operate his flesh legs and he wasn't about to make that known at a huge event. 

So there he was, suit and tie; robot legs and dress pants; robot feet and shoes 2 sizes larger than his usual ones over them. 

For that night, an artist was commissioned to make each Hero a masquerade mask that they would wear around and auction off at the end of the night. 

Scar's mask was satin black with glossy blue swirls creating crashing waves on the bottom of the right side and shining orange stars on the top of the left side. 

According to Tek, the masks were extremely important and made by one Pearlescent Moon . Cuteguy seemed to be very surprised by the name, and even said, “oh, I love that artist.” Tek also informed them that she would be attending the gala and they must say hello to her and thank her for the masks.

After that mission brief, they headed out in their fancy clothes and fancy masks to play super politician? Scar wasn't exactly sure what he was there to do besides be an attraction… figuratively as well as literally.

Prior to the proper event, everyone was just mingling, so he joined in and attempted an introduction to some new-comers. 

“Hello, welcome in. Glad to see you at the charity gala, I'm Hot-”

“Hotguy!” One person shrieked and ran to his side. “Oh my Gods, can I take a picture with you?”

“Well, yes, of course.” He smiled his signature Hotguy smile and posed for pictures that seemed to never stop coming. As the hall filled, people rushed up to him as soon as one person was done with their photo and he didn't get a chance to speak to anyone, really besides a “thank you!” or “nice to meet you!” 

Sometimes it was easy to forget the sheer amount of commercializing had gone into Heroes. There were action figures, trading cards, photo calendars, manga, and even life-size pillows. 

No, he never forgot that Hotguy was famous, but he definitely forgot that there were a lot of people who desperately wanted to be with him; because in his normal life, he was a single architecture professor with a tight knit group of friends that didn't spend much time out in public. He was a homebody at heart and Hero-ing was his way to do what he knew the city needed. The advertisement was an adjunct and not something he would have opted into if he knew it would be like this.

As he was taking another picture, he spotted pink and black in the corner of his vision and he backed away from the crowd. “Just a moment, please,” he said apologetically and rushed away.

Scar weaved through the tables and chairs and people blocking his way to Cuteguy. His mask was beautiful and he could see his eyes glaring at him through the feathered and painted frame. “Cutie!” He called, even though the glare was evidence enough that he'd seen him. 

Cuteguy stopped for a picture and as soon as Hotguy approached, he was asked to join in. 

Unable to deny a poor kid, Hotguy crouched down beside the child and smiled his biggest smile while Cuteguy smiled his fakest smile. 

Afterward, Hotguy grabbed Cuteguy's hand gently and led him to the wall. “Please let me explain. I think we didn't-”

Cuteguy shook his head. “We'll talk about this after.” 

“Oh my Gods!” A teenager yelled and pointed out Hotguy and Cuteguy to their friends. “Are you two a thing?!”

Cuteguy took his gloved hand from Hotguy's and shook his head again. “No, no we're not.” He laughed as if he was beyond embarrassed to be mistaken as Hotguy's partner partner. “Just talking about a mission we were on the other day.”

The group’s faces all lit up with intrigue and one asked “ooh! What mission?”

Cuteguy glanced over to Hotguy before stating “confidential information, apologies!”

Cuteguy scampered away. 

Why is he scampering? Scar asked himself. Oooh, I'm always up for a bit of investigating.

So, he did just that. He followed Cuteguy around and observed his behaviour like a wildlife biologist. 

Here in Hero Tower, we can observe a Cuteguy in its natural habitat. If you look closely, you can see the bangles on his wrist where he stores his sass. As they jingle, they generate energy that gets converted into pure sassiness. 

Oh! There he goes, he's walking across the hall. He just bumped into a table! How clumsy. I, a very professional and coordinated narrator, would never do such a thing.

And now he's seen doing one of his most common activities, standing around and looking intimidatingly cute. Adorably terrifying one might say.

Now, someone is approaching him! They're taking a picture. Wow, that picture must be worth millions with how beautiful that smile is. 

He's turned and now he's talking to someone else! Wow, how invigorating. Woah, that's a cool dress… oh. Now he's looking at me. And summoning me with a waggly finger, okay.

He walked across the room with a grin and addressed the person he was talking to. “Hello, it's nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” She responded in a chipper Australian accent. “Love to see you wearing my art. Hope you like it.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh my gosh! You're Pearlescent Moon!” He held out both his hands to shake hers. “I love the masks, they're so gorgeous. I mean, look at Cutie here,” he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pinched at his cheek, earning a glare from him and a laugh from Pearl. “You couldn't have captured his essence better.”

“Oh, you're so sweet.” She thanked, holding a palm to her chest. “It's really my pleasure. I'm honored to help with this charity event. I can't imagine a more wonderful project.”

“I can't imagine a more wonderful artist! These are so amazing, I mean how did you even do this?” He almost took off his mask to look at it before he remembered nope.  

“He looks a little peeved, heh?” She snorted, pointing to Cuteguy, who was practically smoking from the ears because Hotguy hadn't stopped pinching his cheek.

“Ha! Yeah, maybe a little.”

-

Music blared over the speakers and people danced to the beat. Cuteguy wasn't particularly fond of parties and he stayed to the side, idly taking sips of punch, wiping off the lipstick stains he left on the rim of the cup. 

He was doing his best to clear the humiliating interaction with Pearl. He'd accepted a long time ago that Pearl would always make him look ridiculous, but he thought he could escape it as Cuteguy. Nope! The cousin curse always came true no matter who was administering the embarrassing action. 

Contrastly, he was happy to see his friends having fun, even if he had to watch from a distance. Mumbo, dressed pretty usual for himself, was laughing and gave Lizzie a small shove, to which Joel pretended to punch him, only making Mumbo laugh more. Joel and Lizzie wore matching pinks, hers a glittery gown and his a three piece suit. Etho was there next to his mysterious plus one, eyes fixed on him, Etho in a deep red tux, while the other was wearing forest green. Gem was speaking to said plus one, camera slung around her neck, wearing her best shimmery sage green dress.

It was a little painful to see them as Cuteguy. It was slightly more painful to think about how he wished he would feel comfortable enough in his other life to be as feminine as he was now.

He wore a loose-fitting pink tunic with a corset-like black vest over, finished off with an asymmetrical pink skirt over black stockings and boots. Despite the mask, he'd completely dolled himself up with eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, lipstick, and glitter. He couldn't imagine being this version of himself in his normal life. 

As he stared off into space, he found his mind wandering… and he saw Scar in Lizzie's chair, getting mascara put on. The way he laughed and blinked instinctively, apologizing for making it hard for her. He wanted to do that. He wanted to be that close to his face. Making him feel pretty, close enough to kiss him.

“Mama!!!” Hotguy came over, belting his heart out, with a hand poised in a request to dance. “Just killed a man!”

Grian tried to hold back a smile, but it forced its way onto his face upside-down, negating the whole operation. He simply couldn't hide his amusement. 

“Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead!” Hotguy sang out of tune, one fist against his chest and eyes screwed shut.

Little on the nose for the interaction I had with your best friend earlier, Hotguy, he quipped in his head.

Grian felt his determination to boycott this walking, talking manipulation machine crumbling with every shimmy of Hotguy's shoulders and off-beat bob of his head.

“Mama, life had just begun, ” he leaned closer to Cuteguy and tipped his head back, wailing the lyrics to the fist he held high in the air between them. “But now I've gone and thrown it all away!” 

Grian rolled his eyes and grabbed Hotguy's hand to join in. 

This can't hurt. There's no problem here, right?

The face that met him was worthy of history books. Hotguy's giant, joy-filled grin could stop wars. For a moment, the war Cuteguy had been fighting within himself dissolved like sugar on his tongue. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the way Hotguy looked at him.

“Sing with me, please!” He leaned down to whisper before launching right into “Mama! Oo-oo-oooh, didn't mean to make you cry!”

Grian continued the lyric, “If I'm not back again this time tomorrow-”

Hotguy swung an arm around Cuteguy's shoulder and brought his other hand to lay dramatically against his forehead. “Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters…” they sung together.

“Oh the next lyric is a little too real for me.” Hotguy looked down at Grian with that gorgeous smile of his and their eyes met in the glow of pink and blue party lights. Hotguy didn't remove his arm from Cuteguy's shoulders, and secretly Cuteguy was happy about that. 

With all his might, he resisted putting his hands against Hotguy's chest. It felt like it would be defeat. A surrender of his feelings that persisted without his permission. He couldn't let him off without a hitch for lying to him. He couldn't open up an avenue to hurt him again or let himself be hurt. 

Yet… under the surface, he knew. Maybe it was the hope that Hotguy wasn't that kind of person because he really did like him, or maybe he'd become delusional from this stupid crush. Either way, his heart told him that Hotguy was someone to trust. Unfortunately, hearts weren't the most reliable measurement tools. In fact, they couldn't differentiate a millimeter from a mile, so he tried to silence his stupid, hammering heart. Definitely necessary to keep Cub from murdering him, too…

“You there?” Hotguy asked, curious green puppy eyes staring at him. 

Grian blinked a few times and nodded. 

“Good because it's like the best part,” he said, looking up and nodding along to the beat (incorrectly of course) before he started singing again. “I see a- oh, not yet- oh- a little silhouetto of a man! Smalamoosh! No that was- euch!” He hid his face for a second in Cuteguy's hair and when he brought his head back up, his face was shining brighter than it had before. “Uh- Thunderbolts and lighting, very very frightening me!”

Grian chimed in excitedly, “Galileo!” 

“Galileo!” Hotguy let go of his hand and pointed at him.

“Galileo!” He pointed back.

“Galileo!” Hotguy leaned in closer, poking his finger to Cuteguy's chest.

“Galileo figaro magnifico- oh-oh-oh-oh!” 

For the whole song, they continued on, acting out certain verses, dancing together through others, but through everything, they never stopped touching. Grian had successfully gone one song without placing both hands on Hotguy… not that it was much of a victory considering as soon as the next song started, Hotguy placed a hand on his waist and he couldn't help but do the same.

Horns started playing and Grian felt his face flush. Hotguy was already beaming, “Oh my gosh, I love this song!” 

He's so, so beautiful. Grian was sure he was staring and looked so stupid. Anyone who looked at them must have thought they were in love with the way Grian's eyes followed the light glittering against Hotguy's mask and gelled hair. I shouldn't be doing this. I should leave.

Grian felt a surge of adrenaline course through him when Hotguy met his eyes and began to sing. “You're just too good to be true… can't take my eyes off of you.” The way he looked at him was sickly sweet. His chest was heavy, and he looked down, hoping, praying , that these stupid feelings wouldn't get worse.

Unfortunately, Hotguy took this as an opportunity to lean in to sing quietly in his ear. “You're like heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much.” 

Every point of contact between them lit up in Grian’s head. Head to toe, there was the brush of Hotguy's cheek against his hair. Hotguy's warm, heavy yet gentle arm around his shoulders with a thumb caressing the top of the armscye seam on his top. Both of Grian's hands had found their way to his partner's waist and the satin fabric felt so smooth beneath his fingers, he was worried his talons would mess it up. Hotguy's other arm was wrapped around his waist, hand resting lightly on his lower back. He could feel one of Hotguy's knees against his leg as he leaned down to sing into his ear.

I'm doomed. He thought. Cub is going to murder me in my sleep, I'm going to end up buried in the desert. Then, a realization hit him like a truck. He changed the lyric. It wasn't You're like heaven to touch, it was You'd be like heaven to touch. He's aware of what he's doing. Aware of how what he's doing is killing me.

His aural feathers twitched, slapping Hotguy in the face, much to Hotguy's amusement. Grian pulled away from Hotguy's touch, wrapping his arms around himself as he stepped back, looking at his partner giggle and pick a feather out of his mask. Hotguy's face dropped the moment he saw Cuteguy's timid body, and his eyes were so wide and curious and green. He wasn't manipulating him… at least not at this specific moment. 

“What's wrong, Cutie?” He asked, setting a feather light hand on his elbow, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

His eyes flitted between both of Hotguy's, sure that he'd find a hint of red proving that no, these weren't his real feelings. He was being told how to think and feel subconsciously and he couldn't be responsible for this ache in his stomach that told him to kiss the stupid Hero gazing at him with the most seemingly sincere face he'd ever seen. He couldn't really feel this way, could he? 

“Do you need water?” He asked, standing back at his full height to crane his head back and forth in search of the bar. “I can get it for you.”

Words wouldn't form. Everything was a jumble in his brain and looking at Hotguy, he was slowly coming to the realization that things weren't ever going to be the same. 

“Here, come sit down,” Hotguy said and led him to a table where he pulled out a chair and kneeled in front of him. “I'm going to be right back. Just getting you something to drink.”

And then he was gone. 

I want to kill him, was all Grian could think. I want him to leave me alone and never come back. When will my body get the message that he's a horrible, lying, manipulative nuisance ready to explode in my face?!

As much as he repeated that in his head, he couldn't convince himself. He wanted so much to believe that he was just as disgusting as he thought he should be. For the way he's kept information from him, acted oblivious, gotten them in dangerous situations, and against all logic gotten him to feel this vulnerable in the one role he was supposed to feel invincible.

Cuteguy wasn't supposed to have any sensitivities. He was a 2D illustration of all the traits Grian wished he could embody better in real life. He hadn't built a weakness into this persona because it wasn't real. When he was on missions, it was easy to be that tough, sassy, badass Hero he'd invented. Now, after a few weeks in Hero Tower, being Cuteguy day in and day out, the barrier between Grian and Cuteguy was crumbling. 

What did it mean to be two different people infatuated with two different people? More like, what did it mean to be a monogamous person split between two different lives, falling in love with two different people who can't know the other version of himself exists? How could he hide a whole relationship from his friends in real life? How could he lie every day to Scar about where he'd go every night? How could he suppress these feelings indefinitely?

“I didn't know what you'd want, so I have room temp water, cold water, and apple juice.” Hotguy announced as he set the bottles on the table between them. He sat in the next seat over, facing him, and cracked open his own apple juice. “I don't know about you, but apple juice is like my favourite underrated drink, and‐”

Grian slumped against the table, cheek flat against the surface, one arm resting on the table, bent above him, and the other hanging down limp. 

“Oh, no. Cutie, are you okay?” Hotguy bent his head sideways to meet his gaze and gave him a small chuckle. “Are you all partied out?” 

He's being cute on purpose. He knows how adorable he is.

Grian sighed and nodded, closing his eyes. Maybe that would keep his heart beating at a normal rate.

“Okay,” Hotguy drew out the word as he took a moment to think. “Well do you want to leave?”

“We can't.” He reminded him. “This is our job.” He sat back up and dusted himself off, remembering that yes, this was his job, and he didn't want to be seen like that.

Hotguy waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, please! They won't notice you're gone. There's so many people!” 

Grian narrowed his eyes. “How do you do that?”

Hotguy frowned and glanced around. “What?”

“How do you ignore possible consequences?” He huffed. “It's like you have no regard for the situations you put yourself in.” A thought popped into his head. A mean thought. One that he desperately wanted to believe right now so he could squash the crush once and for all. “Is it because you can just manipulate your way out of any bad situation? Why think twice when you can just convince someone you're Mr. Perfect and consequences don't apply to you?”

Hotguy really looked like a puppy, apparently, because over the course of the night, he'd gone from curious puppy to happy puppy to, now, a kicked puppy. “I don't do that.” He wrung his hands together in his lap. “If you'd let me explain the other night… I'm just… I'm not like that, Birdy.”

“How am I supposed to believe anything you say?” He bit, a scowl on his face.

This isn’t what I wanted. I should stop.

But he continued. “You hid that you manipulate people for a living, so I don’t have much faith that anything you say is real anymore.”

Hotguy looked near tears. “Look in my eyes. Please. They’re not red. I’m not using my power. I have no reason to use my power around you.” He sounded desperate, as if Cuteguy believing him was a need not a want. 

“You’ve used it all the time around me! This is the only night ever I haven’t seen you use it!” He barked, standing up. 

Why am I doing this?! I need to sit down and calm down. This isn’t okay.

“Did you stop because you told me? Too scared that I would detect it now?”

Glassy eyes averted their gaze. “When I’m around you, I only use my power to…” He looked around at all the people that had been attracted by the loud voice. He was exposed. The news would report this argument and make sure everyone in Hermitopia knew that the Hero duo weren’t as close as they thought. Maybe they’d say it was trouble in paradise.

-

Everybody knows, don’t they?  

***

Scar was ready to run. It was over. People would boo him out of Hero Tower if they knew that his power was manipulation and it was best to outrun the crowd at this point. 

He turned on his heel and rushed as quickly as he could through the party floor. People turned and gasped, shouting his name, and others tried to grab his shoulder, asking for a picture. He squeezed through thin gaps and pushed his way through walls of dancing patrons, breaths coming in shallow and coming out heavy. The walls were caving in and he needed to get out. He needed to be alone. He needed to hide from every person here that now knew he was a monster that could destroy whatever he pleased with a command. 

He burst through heavy metal doors into the hall where people whipped their heads around to look at him. He saw his friends, staring in shock. In horror. They must know. He dashed down the corridor, hoping and praying for a door that would open and let him escape the fear everyone seemed to feel for him. 

Door after door, it was all locked. He found a stairwell and ran up it, sure that there was somewhere he could hide. He pulled on door after door, losing hope as quickly as he’d lost his role as a Hero. He turned the corner into another hall, floor to ceiling windows on one side, exposing him again to the crowd that had formed outside Hero Tower, all there to see him and hate him and wish him dead. He pivoted and ran back, searching fervently for another hall to check. 

His heartbeat was booming in his ears and he was certain he was going to have a heart attack and collapse any moment. Every muscle in his body was tense and burning.

A door opened. He gasped in surprise before slipping in and slamming the door behind him. In the dim light, he spotted a desk and pushed the chair away, stuffed himself in the space between the drawers, and pulled the chair back in to make himself feel more invisible, safer.

Then, like a house of cards in a storm, he fell apart.

He gasped in breaths that didn't help at all because sobs forced their way out of his lungs before oxygen reached his bloodstream. He was curled up, knees nearly against his chest, metal bars digging their way into his back, and head bowed but still pushed painfully against the flat underside of the tabletop. 

It’s over.

It’s over.

It’s over.

I lost.

His whole body ached, and he was convinced that the ache in his heart really was signaling the end. He wasn’t going to survive this. 

###

-

It seemed like the world had sensed his mistakes and decided that the world would literally crumble around him.

Screams started coming from all directions and his aural feathers went up in alarm. 

He rushed to the stage to get a better view of the venue, weaving between the patrons who were rushing to leave. 

On the stage, he saw what people were screaming about. Purple tendrils snaked up the walls, digging into the plaster, breaking it apart, where it fell to the ground. He saw sparks of Tek’s hair between the frantic forms all around, and he rushed to join him. 

The event hall was emptying out quick, letting him use his super speed to meet Tek. He was in full Hero mode, shouting out directions to people who were trying to get out. 

He caught his attention, Tek's hair flashing lighter for a moment. “Thank the Gods.” He glanced at his comm, eyes searching for something he could delegate. “Pull the fire alarm. We need everyone out now. Check the other floors and call for back up if anyone–or any thing –becomes aggressive.”

Grian nodded sharply with a quick “On it.” 

He dashed through the halls, power active and rushing adrenaline through his veins. He found a lever to set off the fire alarms and snapped it down. Lights flashed and a loud siren wailed on a loop as he rushed up the stairs. He looked for any lights or human forms in the windows and came up empty. He sighed in relief and repeated the process for each floor, growing weary as he went further up.

The droning alarm pierced his ears and soiled his focus. His eyes stung with the flashing lights following everywhere as he sped past the bulbs. He wasn't even sure what floor he was on anymore.

“CG, come in!” A voice buzzed from his comm. 

He slowed and brought his wrist to his face to respond. “I’m listening. Over.”

The static was thick, making it hard to understand exactly what came back. “Mycelium / / / get to / / / evacuate.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Repeat. I need you to repeat. Over.” He gulped.

All that returned was garbled static and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Where was Hotguy? Guilt and rage and fear mixed into a concoction stronger than any energy drink he'd had. 

He called him. Nothing. He tried the radio. Useless. He texted. Too slow. He searched desperately for a way to check his location. After swiping through different apps, he finally found a map, showing him in the building. 

Glued to his comm, he wandered around until their dots overlapped.

He was not here, which meant he had to be at this location on any of the thirty-something other floors.  

He sighed anxiously, turned off his comm and ran.

He was on floor 19. He decided it was best to check his room first, just in case it fell at the same spot, which he couldn't map out in his head exactly.

He circled up the stairs until his calves were on fire and he'd finally reached floor thirty-six. Slamming his body against Hotguy's door wasn't exactly his plan, he'd really just lost track of how fast he was going, but it worked out because the door lock broke open. Dreading the bruise to come, he scoured the small room for any sign of life. Nothing.

Defeated, he went floor by floor, checking the exact location he'd zeroed in on with his location tracker. 

Floor after floor yielded empty rooms, inaccessible areas locked thrice by iron doors, and more thoughts predicting the worst, amplified by the fire alarm assaulting his senses.

He reached the second floor, nearly hopeless, ready to accept that his comm was malfunctioning and he wasn't going to find anything. 

He wrenched open the door separating him from the right spot.

He almost closed the door and left because the black room looked unassuming. That was until he heard a quiet cry.

He flipped the light on and searched around the small office until he was on the floor, pulling the desk chair away to gaze upon his partner. 

Without hesitation, he grabbed at his sleeve to remove him from the cramped space, repeating over and over in a small voice. “Come here, come here, we need to leave.” 

Hotguy's eyes were clenched shut, hands clamped over his ears, tear stains peeking out from below his mask. 

Grian's skin crawled with regret. It was living and writhing and its moist breath lingered on his neck.

He combed his hand through Hotguy's hair and whispered quiet pleads, mere inches away from cradling his head against his chest. “I'm here. I'm so sorry, so, so sorry. I've got you now. Please get up, we need to leave. I'll keep you safe, okay?”

Chapter Text

Grian held Hotguy by the elbow in the hotel lobby.

Tek brought them to Ranchers Hotel because now there were 20-something Heroes without somewhere safe to stay without risking identity exposure. Tek, as the ever-responsible Hero, took it upon himself to find a place for everyone. Grian's eyes locked on Jimmy as soon he came in and he hoped that he wouldn't recognize his wings now that they were in the same room.

He gulped and looked away, letting Tek take care of logistics and all the fancy stuff he was good at. His talons poked Hotguy's sleeve and he looked over to dislodge it without damaging the tux. Hotguy was unaware. His eyes were bloodshot and unblinking, glazed over as he stared off at nothing. His shoulders were hunched and his arms were wrapped around himself, a self soothing hug.

Grian wanted nothing more than to envelope him in his arms and take away the pain that he caused… but that wasn't right. He couldn't cause more emotional whiplash than he already did. The only way to make the night worse would be to take advantage of Hotguy's vulnerable state and act as the antidote to a poison he fed him.

They were standing around for a little while as things all got sorted out, and Cuteguy noticed something. Hotguy was trembling. It was slight, enough that he didn't immediately catch it, but it was certain. 

“Hey, what's wrong?” He asked, squeezing Hotguy's arm lightly.

No response. He simply closed his eyes tight and brought in a deep, slow breath, opening his eyes on the exhale. Still, he was shaking.

Grian felt sweat starting to form on his hands and he led Hotguy to a chair, asking the person in it to move. “Sorry, he just… his legs are really sore.”

Once Hotguy was sat, he leaned forward and hid his face in his hands. He looked like he was shielding himself. Like his hands would be enough to let him forget that threats were out there. Only Grian knew that he was probably the threat he was hiding from.

He went to the breakfast bar that was closed save for the water cooler that was out. He grabbed a clear plastic cup and poured some cold water 3/4ths of the way up. He turned around and looked at Hotguy again.

This is exactly what he did for me. I blew up at him after he tried to help me and make sure I was okay.

With a reserved expression, he placed the water beside Hotguy and spoke softly. “Got some water for you.”

For the next half hour, he stood there beside Hotguy. He observed silently as Hotguy took a couple sips, and people started to get room keys. His feet were aching in his heels, his head was pounding, and his stomach was growling. 

Moments like this reminded Grian of just how unglamorous it was to be alive. He was sweaty and probably looked like shit and he was standing in a hotel lobby like a homeless dog. Nothing about him was picture perfect and he was sure that pictures just like this scene were going to be all over the news.

Tek scrambled around, moving between people and the front desk. Then he finally approached Cuteguy, eyebrows tilted upwards, worry and exhaustion etched on his face.

“Hey, CG. So we're really pressed for space as you can imagine.” He sighed and sorted through a few papers. “All we've got left is singles. I don't even… there's not enough for everyone.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and tapped his foot, eyes wide and near bursting into stress tears.

“Tek. Tek, calm down, it's okay.” Cuteguy patted his shoulder. “What're the options?”

His eyes flicked up and met Grian's. “What did Cub do to you?” He whispered.

He froze. He nearly forgot how Tek had squeezed into the elevator to escape what he must've known was going to happen between Cub and Cuteguy. “Threatened to kill me… let me off with a warning.”

Tek drew his lips into a straight line and nodded rapidly. “Warning is good. That's better than what I assumed.” He brought his voice back to a normal volume. “Well, there are two options… you both stay in rooms with Heroes you don't know or you stay in the same room.” 

Grian looked over to Hotguy, hoping he'd weigh in. When it was silent, he brought the lightest touch to his shoulder and asked, “What do you think?”

Hotguy looked up halfway before he mumbled in the smallest voice he'd ever heard, nearly inscrutably, “You.”

Chills ran over his skin, hairs standing up on end. He turned back to Tek and drew in a deep breath. “Together.”

Moments later, Grian took Hotguy by the elbow again and led him to the elevator, down the hall, and into their room. 

The walls were colored pale blue, curtains stark white, and sheets lilac purple. Decorated with some kind of modern art too amorphous for Grian to understand. 

He was reminded of the first time he'd stayed in Ranchers Hotel, the joy on Jimmy's face as he toured everyone around. The way Grian wanted so desperately to be completely happy for him, but he couldn't because Jimmy was moving out and he was going to be alone again. He remembered most of all the way he yelled at Jimmy, telling him that his taste was shit and the art was ugly and no one would want to stay in the stupid hotel. And how he never properly apologized for that.

Looking now, he loved the room. It was pretty and comforting and even though he wasn't a fan of abstract art, he had to admit that it was nice to look at.

Why can I never keep my mouth shut?

Hotguy sat down on the end of the bed, his frame so slight that it made Grian nauseous. He looked away.

I did that. I. Did. That.

“Can you help me?” Hotguy whispered.

Grian looked back and nodded, coming to Hotguy's side. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

Hotguy tried to bend his legs, hands out, leaning over until he suddenly stopped and squeaked in pain. “I can't… I can't get my shoes off.”

Cuteguy immediately knelt down and started untying his shoes. “Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I've got it.” The knots were tight and he had to work at them for a moment.

“Thank you.” Hotguy spoke quietly, breathy and sad as he leaned back on his hands. It was like a stake in Grian's guilty heart.

“Please don't thank me.”

He slid his shoes off one at a time and revealed the metal underneath, reflecting the light from the dim lamps flanking the bed.

“Anything else?” Grian asked, standing up and carrying Hotguy's shoes to the door where he discarded his own as well.

Hotguy made a hesitant noise before he covered his face and said, “I need to take my legs off…”

“Okay, do you want me to go? I can go into the restroom while you do that.”

Hotguy cupped his face in one hand and sighed as he looked down. He spent a moment deliberating in his head before he looked up, meeting his partner's eyes. “I don't think… um…”

Grian's chest tightened. “Do you need help?”

Hotguy looked absently away and nodded.

“Hey, it's okay. Just let me know what to do, okay?” He approached and leaned against the drawer chest across from Hotguy.

Hotguy looked miserable. His face drooped as he avoided eye contact and started unbuttoning his trousers. “I have shorts on, don't be a creep,” he mumbled.

Grian's face must have gone bright red, his aural feathers going back as he floundered, words escaping his grasp. “I- you- Hotguy- this is- really?! I know you're not flirting with me!”

“Who's to say I'm not?” Hotguy chuckled lightly, kicking his dress pants off, revealing his typical booty shorts and robotic legs, his Hero uniform. 

Grian hid his face in his hands and held back a guttural scream. “Oh my Gods,” he screeched. “Can you act like my coworker for like one second?”

Hotguy leaned back and laughed for real that time, hand over his stomach. 

Grian felt a surge of nerves go through him, leaving him blushing for a different reason. He was no longer embarrassed, but admiring the beautiful smile that seemed to hit him harder every subsequent time he saw it. Hotguy's joy was like a wasp's venom; every sting, it got more potent and deadly.

Is this what love feels like? Grian heard his subconscious ask. He mentally reprimanded himself for such a stupid question at such a bad time.

“Okay, so getting real,” Hotguy said, a sad smile on his face. “There's these um… snappy thingies…” He unlatched one that he could reach on his thigh. “They go all the way down. I just can't reach the ones at the bottom right now.” 

He watched as Cuteguy crouched down and started unlatching them before he hummed in discomfort. Cuteguy looked up to meet his eyes. “What's wrong?”

 “Birdy… um, my legs aren't pretty.” He laughed humorlessly. “Can we not talk about it? It's just how void exposure is.”

Grian nodded sharply. “Of course, of course. Don't worry at all. You need your sleep anyway.” He returned to Hotguy's legs, unlatching the final hinge on the left leg before he slid it off.

He realized quite suddenly that he'd never seen void exposure before. He didn't even really know how people could get void exposure. To be perfectly honest, he'd never met anyone with void exposure before and if he had, he never found out. 

The bruises were visible first. They were a dark rainbow of visible pain. Purple, blue, green, brown, and red splotches of ecchymosis spreading out beneath his tan skin.

Then there was the grey fading to black. Skin so void of color that it looked completely dead. 

He didn't want to gawk. It felt extremely disrespectful and he didn't want Hotguy to think that he thought less of him or was disgusted at all, so he quickly put that leg to the side and unlatched the other one. As he slid it off he asked, “Where should I put them?”

Hotguy shrugged. “The closet is fine. Don't want to trip over them. And… thank you.”

“No worries.” He picked the legs up, wobbling a little because they were much heavier than he'd thought, and placed them in the closet. There, he noticed the two bath robes hanging up. “Did you want something comfy to sleep in?” He asked, holding one out so his partner could see.

Hotguy pursed his lips before he shook his head. “No, thanks. Those are too warm.” He yawned and stood up, only to look around with a defeated sigh.

Grian put the robe away and closed the closet door. “Is there something else you need?”

Hotguy shook his head as he took uneven steps. “Just… no cane.” Thankfully, it was a short distance to the wall so he could use it for balance. “I'm alright.”

Grian nodded silently and went to the thermostat as Hotguy went into the restroom. It was a little warm for his taste. Or maybe that was the warmth or being so close to someone he cared for. 

As he turned the dial down, he envisioned the scars snaking their way across the greyed and blackened skin of Hotguy's legs. There truly wasn't a part of him that was spared from the dark scars. Between the grey and tan, there was a jagged line of irritated red skin, where scars cut through, completely drained of color already. 

He wondered how long Hotguy's legs had looked like that. When had he gotten void exposure? What happened for him to even be exposed to the void? 

The bathroom door opened and Hotguy emerged having discarded his blazer, bowtie, and mask. Instead he had a cowboy themed sleep mask over his head as he rubbed his glowing red eyes. “Who gets the bed?” He yawned.

Grian's aural feathers stuck to the side of his face yet again. “You! I'm- I'm really not tired at all. You get some rest. Seriously.” He stood and went to the bathroom himself. “I'll turn the lights off after I'm out. Get yourself comfortable.”

Hotguy got himself comfortable, Grian turned all the lights out, and nested himself in the uncomfortable arm chair stuffed in the corner of the room. His wings were far too big to sit in it the ‘right’ way, so he sat sideways, which made him curl his legs up, but the wooden skeleton in the arm of the chair wasn't padded enough for his taste and he was sore. It was ridiculous and he wanted to complain to the managers. But as Cuteguy, it wouldn't get the desired results (of annoying Jimmy in a cousinly way), so he supposed he'd just have to sit in pain for the night until Hotguy woke up!

For hours, he scrolled through his phone, looking at news sites reporting on the Hero Tower attack. They all said things like Can Heroes Really Protect Us? and Strange Fungus Threatens Hermitopia's Security: Are Heroes Prepared?

The uncertainty was eating at him. He didn't know if he was prepared.

The group chat from game night was also busy, Lizzie giving updates on the safety of everyone who came with her and making sure others were okay. Jimmy and Tango reported that Heroes were staying in their hotel, and Gem announced that the Commission hadn't contacted her at all yet, leading her to believe that the higher-ups were targeted somehow. 

All the while, texts from Tek, Xisuma, and Impulse rolled in on his comm… and Hotguys, apparently. Every few minutes, he'd hear R2D2 beeps across the room, sometimes in a symphony, sometimes spread apart, but always just slightly too loud for the quiet surrounding it.

These texts all informed him that many members of the Commission weren't themselves. 

Their best guess was that mycelium from the lab had escaped and gotten a hold of some people, the majority of which were people who stayed still for hours on end. Office workers, receptionists, and higher ups that did non-stop paperwork. 

For once, he was glad that he was always running around. The threat of fungus taking over his body was quite the motivation to keep moving. 

Though, as he sat there the whole night, nothing but his thoughts to keep him company with his phone nearly dead… the world felt a lot smaller than he knew it was. 

The early morning light peeking through the drapes, dappling Hotguy in a haze of pale pink sun spots. He looked ethereal. And Grian felt like a monster.

He decided then and there that he was in a unique situation. No one else on Earth was falling for two different people as two different people like this. No one else had looked up the symptoms of void exposure that night and realized that their superhero partner was making his condition worse every day that he kept fighting. No one else had imagined the way they'd explain their other identity to the people they cared most about. No one else had given up on the very prospect of romance that night after realizing they were the very antithesis of charming, sweet, or even suitable.

Because despite everything Grian wanted to be, he was horrible at communication, he pushed away anything that made him question himself, and his capacity to be vulnerable collapsed at the slightest challenge to his ego.

Cub said he's in love with me. His face scrunched up in that way it does right before someone starts to cry. He's in love with me and I can't stop being… me. Cub has more than enough reason to murder me now. I deserve it.

-

The next day, Tek came knocking at the door and Cuteguy got up before Scar could even open his eyes. 

“Hey, guys!” He sounded out of breath and panicked, as he tended to the last few days. He hauled in some luggage and placed it beside the bed. “So I brought y'all's stuff here. Sorry to go through all your personal belongings, but I got some of the other Heroes to come with me to get what we could from Hero Tower.” He pointed to each item as he announced what he'd retrieved. “That's CG's stuff. Then HG, I got your bag, your wheelchair, and your cane. Front desk has a lot of things, but if there's anything else you need, just let me know.”

“Thank you so much, Tek.” Scar yawned, holding out his interlaced hands in gratitude.

Cuteguy nodded. “You have no idea how much this means to us. Thank you so, so much.” As Tek turned to leave, Cuteguy caught his shoulder. “Hey, when are you going to get some rest, too?”

Tek wheezed in an exasperated noise as he narrowed one eye, keeping the other wide open. “I don't think there's time! There's so many things to do and there's no time to do it.” He blabbered, voice cracking and frantic. “I mean there's schedules that I haven't even been able to think of making yet and there's-” 

Cuteguy cut in. “Let me help.” He gave Scar a small wave as he led Tek out of the room, talking about what they needed to do.

The door slammed shut and it was quiet again. 

Scar felt the well of emotions from the night before bubble to the surface. The betrayal hit him like a truck all over again. He felt the ache across his body from shoving himself under the desk. The residual cortisol still flowing through his veins. Is it because you can just manipulate your way out of any bad situation?

He stood up and remembered how Cuteguy had helped him get his robotic legs off when he was hurting too much to do so, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

Does he love me or hate me?! He thought, stalking slowly to the bathroom. As he looked at himself in the mirror, the scars stuck out more than usual and memories of his childhood nipped at him. His shorn wings twitched in pain and he shook his head.

He needed comfort desperately. Being alone was probably the worst thing he could be right now. 

He rummaged through his suitcase, chose the least suspecting outfit he had, took a shower, and prepared to leave. 

In his wheelchair, he went to the door and held his breath for a moment, using all the energy he had left to mentally disguise himself. He exhaled and set on his way.

He traveled a couple blocks, into his apartment building, and to Cub's doorstep, all while manifesting that no one would recognize or acknowledge him. Right now was not the time for his identity to be leaked.

Knock, knock, knock!

Cub answered the door with a tired and confused look before his eyes lit up with recognition. “Scar!” He lunged forward and enveloped him in a tight bear hug. “Oh my Gods… what… What are you doing here?” He asked, stepping back to let Scar come in. 

“I missed you.” Scar smiled sadly. “It's been an intense few weeks.” He entered Cub's living room where Jellie was sleeping on the couch, and his voice shot up several octaves and he transferred himself onto the seat next to hers. “Hi baby! Aw look at my Jellie, such a sweet girl! My little baby.” He kissed her on her forehead repeatedly, smacking his lips loudly.

Jellie responded by stretching, yawning, and standing to adjust her position so that she was laying against Scar's thigh. She purred happily while he pet her tummy.

“She's been crying for you every day,” Cub said, taking a seat beside Scar. “It's cute but extremely annoying. Like I missed you but I didn't cry like a baby…”

Scar snorted. “Oh, really? You haven't? I guess you just don't even like me!”

Cub kicked Scar's leg.

“If I could feel that, I would be really mad right now!” He pouted.

A smile curled on Cub's lips and the world felt normal for a moment. Almost like the past few weeks were just a bad dream. 

“I'm serious!” Scar laughed.

Cub nodded. “Yeah, I'm sure you are.”

“I don't like your tone.” Scar referenced, mouth agape, waiting for Cub to complete the quote.

Cub snorted and rolled his eyes. “No, I'm not singing.” 

“Yes you are.” Scar nudged Cub, grin unbearably cute as he waited in anticipation.

Cub sighed in defeat, smile only growing wider. “I'm sure you are~!” He sung half heartedly. 

“SpongeBob wouldn't be impressed, but I guess that counts.” 

Cub lightly shoved Scar's shoulder. “Nothing's ever good enough for you, huh?”

He shook his head. “Nope!” Jellie knocked her nose against Scar's hand and he laughed. “Except for you, baby! You're amazing, honey!” Jellie stood and slinked over onto Scar's lap, earning a pained gasp. “No. Not there, Jellie, ow ow ow.”

Cub narrowed his eyes. “Have you been taking your healing potions?”

Scar's face scrunched up. “... noooo…”

Cub immediately grabbed the remote and put on Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Then, he went to the kitchen and began making food, ignoring any protests that Scar tried to make. One episode and one boiling pot later, Cub brought Scar a bowl of pasta, a glass of water, and a healing potion. 

Scar sighed. “Thank you, Cubby.”

“Eat.” Cub responded plainly.

Scar laughed and ate his food. It was yummy, especially after days of eating only when he remembered to, which wasn't as often as he should have.

He chugged the health potion before leaning against Cub for support through the discomfiting feeling of freezing and burning running through him.

“You need to remember to take the health potions. There's no reason for you to sit in pain all the time.” He lectured. “At some point, I'll need to put a tracker on you like a cat and set alarms for it. Every time it goes off, I get you food and force you to drink your health potion because you never remember to do it.”

Scar laughed and turned to look at Cub's face. “I love you, man.” He brought his arms around Cub and nuzzled his face into his chest, earning a squeeze back.

Cub melted a little, soft smile coming to his face as he leaned back and let Scar get more comfortable. “Love you, Scar.” He rested his head on top of Scar's. Jellie meowed and climbed over Scar to lay in Cub's lap.

“Oh, baby Jellie, hi honey!” Scar cooed and moved an arm so that he could pet her. He scritched behind her ears and she purred like a lawn mower.

A comfortable silence passed between them as they snuggled together, vex magic making the room a little darker and more cozy. 

Their friendship had started nine years ago with awkward meetings about Hero tech. Scar was clueless, Cub was the designer, and ideas were hard to communicate.

After a little while, Cub caught on to the way that Scar operated. Back then, he was fully confident in his Hero abilities, didn't take crap from anyone, and proudly used his powers. 

A couple years went past like that. New bow with the perfect grip, designed specifically to suit Hotguy’s hands and shooting style. New gear meant to adapt to Hotguy’s needs in the moment. He was quick on his feet and there was no stopping him.

Void exposure changed everything. A battle, misuse of powers, and catastrophe. Things seemed fine at first. There weren't any visible symptoms, just some headaches and nausea. 

Then, slowly but surely his legs started failing him. Cub picked up his tools and worked for months on something that could help. The first generation of his robotics were boots that helped to make his movements more fluid.

Cub saw how happy it made Scar to be back to his normal self for a while. Then the void exposure spread. It ate its way through Scar like a monster. The change happened so slowly that neither of them noticed until Cub had to make a new version of Hotguy's gear. Now, on generation 8 of robotic limb enhancement, Cub felt a pit in his stomach anytime he repaired and replaced parts on Hotguy's legs. 

He was doing his job. He was helping his best friend. He was doing everything he possibly could to keep Hotguy in the game and satisfied with where he was.

But he also felt like he was betraying Scar. 

He'd done his own research through medical journals. He knew the risks of stress on void exposure. He knew that for his safety, he should convince him that he had to stop. 

But as he looked at Scar curled up against his side, petting Jellie, he heard him purr. A vex purr that he hadn't heard from Scar before.

Vexes, an understudied species and hybrid, weren't known to purr. But within the vex community, it was seen as the highest degree of affection. Like cats, their purr had a healing factor, was used to express happiness, or aid in healing oneself or a loved one.

Cub closed his eyes, a smile coming to his face. He leaned further into Scar's touch and felt the purr come to his own throat, low and tender.

There, cuddling with Jellie and Scar, he realized that he had to do something to save it all. This moment of peace and contentment couldn't be the last one.

He had to figure out how to save Scar from hurting himself more. Every scenario he played through felt like it would lead to failure, and he feared he might lose his best friend in the process of saving him.

-

That night, they went on evening patrol. It was an oddly safe-feeling activity after the chaos of Hero Tower yesterday, where all semblance of ‘normal’ was broken. But tonight it was Hotguy and Cuteguy, Heroes of Hermitopia, doing their nightly rounds to keep the city safe! Unlike their previous rounds, this time, it was truly silent.

Hotguy didn't want to talk to Cuteguy and Cuteguy was too scared to talk to Hotguy.

What a perfect combination.

They were a decent distance from each other. One searched the left side of the street, the other searched the right. It wasn't as if they were standing next to each other in awkward silence. 

Looking for threats smaller than a mouse required focus. Mycelium was rampant. Nowhere in the city could be considered clear because it was next to impossible to see the hair-thin purple strands digging their way into new places. 

Right now, it was more important to sever what connections they could, and respond to emergencies as they came. There was a city wide curfew, recommending that no one be out past dark to prevent attacks.

Scar's mind kept coming back to the eyes. Graffiti, purple and wet, dripping down the walls of the storm drain. Flashing lights as they ran. The alleyway that plunged into darkness. The feeling of being watched.

Just then, the world seemed to stutter.

Hotguy felt his body slow, as if gravity had tripled its force on him. The street lights stretched right before his eyes, and he widened his eyes in panic. Attempts to fight the colossal force that gripped him were useless. He couldn't turn or speak. He was panicking inside.

Across the street, Cuteguy watched as lights smeared around a dark urban canvas. Street lamps, windows, neon signs, all smeared like wet paint in mid air. A force hit him gluing him in place before he activated his super speed to counter it.

He whipped his head around to find Hotguy, who was moving slow as molasses. 

That's when the world fell back into step, as if nothing had ever happened, sending Hotguy stumbling forward.

“What was that?!” Hotguy shouted out before he hopped down from the roof and approached his partner. “You felt that too, right?”

Cuteguy nodded and spun in a circle, frantically looking for a cause. “I'll use super speed to search. Stay here.”

Hotguy agreed, finding himself alone in the middle of an empty street as time shifted around him. Maybe the street was wobbling beneath him or there were smears on his glasses, but he was disoriented and struggling to walk to survey the area. His vision shifted from sharp, crisp images to finger paintings within seconds, leaving him reeling for something to grab onto.

Down the street, Cuteguy was sprinting like hell, using his keen sense of hearing to identify the source. There was shouting coming from somewhere and he was getting closer. He felt like he was swimming without goggles, eyes focusing and unfocusing seemingly at random. 

He lurched as time slowed so far that he was struggling to move even with his power. Barely catching himself from falling flat on his face, the world sped up again. 

“I'm gonna rip you to shreds!” He heard the faint voice echo around him as if coming from everywhere, aggressive and testing. 

A pit formed in his stomach and he stumbled back as the ground began to shake, nearly tripping over his heels. He crouched down to keep his center of gravity low, and closed his eyes tight.

Blocking out one sense heightened the others. He could feel the ground rumble, hear the rocks shifting and scraping against each other. Further away, there were voices. They almost seemed to buzz with the quaking street, but as he focused harder, he could make a little out.

“Get away from me!” Vicious, loud, and terrified.

He opened his eyes and looked begrudgingly at his splint that was essentially pinning him to the ground. He needed to find the source of the cry. Without flight, his vision was much more limited and he didn't know if he could spot it on the ground.

He did some quick mental math before he decided it had been long enough and his wing was fine . He tore the splint off, dropping it to the ground as he launched into the air like a rocket.

Flying on an unstretched and unpreened wing wasn't what Cuteguy would consider comfortable, but he did what needed to be done. He swooped from building to building, all the way down the street and back before the sound got louder. 

Around an apartment building, there was mycelium sinking its claws into the cracks and chewing the stone up like a termite. 

Immediately, he zoomed back to Hotguy and landed right in front of him. Startled, he yelped and jumped a few steps back, hand over his heart.

“I found the source. I can fly us there.” He snapped and pointed to his back, demanding haste.

Hotguy started blubbering with confusion. “Wait, your wings–? And—”

Cuteguy huffed, and, at super speed, grabbed Hotguy under the arms, shooting right back into the air. Seconds later, they were outside the building, where Hotguy opened his mouth to protest.

Cuteguy placed a finger over his mouth and hissed, “not now.”

Hotguy's irritated face fell when he turned to see the building. Like ivy taking over an old building, the mycelium webbed all across the red brick as if searching for something. Fungus didn't use light to grow, so what was it looking for?

“Okay. You work on getting people out, I'll work on cutting the connections,” Hotguy declared, taking a knife from his belt.

“I think the time warping is from a person. I think I heard them,” Cuteguy explained, navigating his comm to call for backup.

Hotguy paused, eyes searching for what to do. “Get people out. If I cut what connections I can, it will lessen the threat.”

They nodded at each other and sprung into action. 

Hotguy pulled his grappling hook from his belt and shot it up to hang off the edge of the roof. He ran toward the wall, knife in one hand, grappling hook in the other. In one fell swoop, he severed the mycelium threads at the main level. He climbed up the side of the complex, slashing as he went.

Meanwhile, Cuteguy dashed to the door, finding it locked. He pulled his gun from his side and shot the handle, slamming the door open. 

He yelled into the empty hall. “Get to safety! The building is not safe! Heroes from the Commission are here to help!” 

He checked each of the doors for signs of mycelium, running out of breath as he shouted his message again and again. All seven floors looked unsuspecting, and he saw people evacuate from every room… except for one. 

On the first floor, he kicked open the door to the basement and rushed in. The black, suffocating stairway led to a terrifying matrix of stone walls echoing with the sounds of fear and ire. As the noise got louder, his sense of reality began to break down into disordered visions of grey and pink. Time slowed and sped up and felt like a rubber band being snapped. 

Cuteguy struggled to keep his balance as the world rumbled beneath him. In an effort to counteract the warp, he accidentally ran headlong into a wall, stealing the breath from his lungs. He stumbled around the corner and saw it.

An operating table, filthy and blood stained, holding a person with fury in their bones. They shouted and writhed against the restraints, growling at the people and things surrounding him. Mycelium formed robed figures, flanked by people he could almost recognize if not for the current peril of time and space. 

The room was dark, textured purple walls closed in, visibly glitching and changing position as the false patient screamed “No! Get away!” 

Cuteguy kicked off the wall he crashed into and attacked. He knocked one in the side of the head with his gun, drawing the attention of everyone.

He spun and kicked their sidekick in the chest, ducking under a right hook. He swept the feet from beneath them before he gasped in a breath at the hands that clapped over his shoulders. He whipped around, elbowing the assailant in the jaw, knocking them to the ground. 

Time sped up, leaving Cuteguy unprepared for the blow that came to his side. He stumbled back, bringing his forearms up to shield himself, breathing heavily. As the light flickered and time came to a halt, Cuteguy recognized the attacker. 

Brown hair, fangs, and dog ears. It was Ren. Only this time, he looked so much worse than he had before. Purple vein-looking webs lived just below his skin, and his eyes were empty as he lunged in slow motion at Cuteguy, teeth bared.

Cuteguy activated his power and ran forward, body slamming Ren to the ground. He leaped over his body and began working at the restraints holding the victim hostage with his pocket knife. 

Time wobbled around him, leaving him reeling as he activated and deactivated his power over and over again. His head began to pound as the victim yelled, too jumbled to make out. 

An arm wrapped around his neck and pulled him back, causing him to drop his knife. He clawed at the skin, gasping in air, trying to kick the attacker’s legs. Time slowed again, allowing him to super speed again, slamming his skull back against the villain's face to escape their grasp.

He picked up his knife again and hacked at the nylon bands, trying his best to control the nausea that rose from his stomach. He heard loud footfalls approaching and spun around to see Hotguy stumbling in looking just as disoriented as Cuteguy felt. 

Time sped up, and the attackers were back to their feet, honing in on the Heroes. Cuteguy's power had started to muddle in his mind, muscles tightening in anticipation as he tried to turn his power off so that he could actually process the speed at which things were happening. 

A blow to his face, too fast for him to dodge. A clanking sound of metal before he felt the operating table fall onto him, bringing his knife dangerously close to his face as he turned to keep his wings from being crushed beneath it all. 

He pushed against the weight with his legs, and heaved until he could roll himself out from under it. In an instant, the clang of the operating table overlapped with the victim's yelling, all joined by Hotguy's legs slipping out from under him with a loud crash.

And then it all went quiet. The hostage was gasping in panicked breaths, but there were no more footsteps or fighting grunts or yelling. It was quiet and time was normal even as Cuteguy's vision swam with the beginnings of a migraine. 

“Oh my Gods…” the victim huffed out. “Get me out of here!” Tied to the fallen table, they took their freehand and pulled at the other restraints that had yet to be broken. 

Cuteguy sat up and located his knife to free them. “Hotguy, can you… can you check the halls? Then, um… see if backup is here?” He stumbled out as he sliced the ropes.

“Woah- Hotguy?” They asked, turning to look. “And Cuteguy?”

“Yeah…” Cuteguy murmured, struggling to keep his eyes open against the pulsating pain in his head. “Um… gotta ask a couple questions to make sure you're okay. What's your name?”

“Bdubs.” He rubbed his wrist that had turned red from fighting against the restraints.

“Cool… um…” Cuteguy felt like he was going to pass out. “Where are we?”

“Hermitopia.” He got his legs free and kicked the table away, causing Cuteguy to flinch at the sound.

“Can you stand?” He asked, getting to his feet, suddenly regretting the heeled boots. 

Bdubs took a deep breath before he took Cuteguy's hand and stood.

He looked relatively unharmed, and Cuteguy was on the verge of falling onto his face, so he slurred out. “Go outside… there should be people… like… to help you.”

Bdubs frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, yeah.” 

-

Back at the hotel, Hotguy, Tek, Impulse, Xisuma, and Bdubs were convening in Xisuma's room. The curtains were drawn, the early morning light streaming through the cracks.

“Okay, so,” Xisuma started, writing notes on his comm. “You have powers, but you've kept them hidden?”

Bdubs nodded, sitting awkwardly in an office chair. “My grandma found it out. When I was a baby, I would cry and it made time warp and stuff. They moved me out to the country so it would be safe.”

Impulse's face shifted into a very empathetic expression. “Did you get any opportunity to learn how to use it?”

Bdubs scratched his neck, pulling his legs up to his chest. “I mean… no. Not really. Having powers meant I'd either be tested on or sent to the military, so I had to keep it a secret. And my power isn't exactly subtle…”

“When did you move out of the country?” Xisuma asked.

Bdubs sighed. “I was… sixteen? Maybe seventeen? I got a thing so I could go to a prep school over here and I'd been suppressing my power so long that it wasn't a problem anymore.” A sad look crossed over his face before he shrugged. “But yeah, I spent pretty much my whole childhood on a farm, raising horses!”

Tek smiled, eyes droopy with sleepiness. “That's kinda awesome, dude!” 

“Right?” Bdubs exclaimed, stretching out a hand for a high-five.

Xisuma continued on with the borderline interrogation. “Do your parents have powers?”

Bdubs’ face fell and he returned his arms to wrap around his knees. “I don't really know. My grandma never talked about them. When I'd ask, she'd get upset.”

“Sounds like a family secret to me,” Impulse chimed in, crossing his arms.

“Yeah…” Bdubs rolled his eyes. “People never told me nothing!”

Xisuma tapped his pen on his knee before he looked up. “This is a big request, but would you be willing to train your powers with us?” 

The silence was deafening. 

Bdubs looked around uncomfortably before finally speaking, “Are you sure?”

Xisuma nodded. “Your power, if honed correctly, could be extraordinary. I've seen a couple other timekeepers, and it's truly amazing.”

“There's a word for it?!” Bdubs shouted, bewildered.

Xisuma nodded again. “Yes. People who manipulate time are called timekeepers. There aren't any known ones here because it's rare and, like you said, people with powers are often tested on early in life.” He pulled up a medical clinic study on timekeepers and gave his comm to Bdubs. “It's about 2% of the powered population. Not well known because of past persecution, of course.”

To be perfectly honest, Scar didn't know about timekeepers either. When the world lurched and stretched around him, he thought that he may have been having a stroke until he realized that Cuteguy had been experiencing it, too.

“You're telling me that I've spent my whole life thinking I'm a freak!? And there's other people with the same power?!”

Tek sighed sadly. “It's more common than you think. I've been hiding that I spontaneously combust forever.”

Scar gulped as he remembered the way he was treated when he manipulated as a child.

“Wow… thank you guys so much for this. I would love to train with you guys. I… I can't believe that there's so many more out there.” 

-

Grian woke up from his sleep to the sound of the hotel door opening. He could tell that Hotguy was trying to be quiet, but he wasn't exactly good at it. He must've dropped something because he heard his legs squeak as he crouched down, letting out a startled hiss in turn. Then he bumped into a wall and finally turned on the bathroom light before shutting the door quite ungracefully with a bang.

Grian rubbed his eyes and sat up. Thoughts rattled around in his mind of what would happen when Hotguy came to sleep and he stood. He could see light peeking out the sides of the drapes and bit his lip.

It would be nice to go for a fly… but it was so early in the morning and he was still sleepy… but it beat figuring out the bed situation.

He opened the balcony door and shielded his eyes against the blinding sun. He slowly blinked his eyes open until he was looking over the city, chilly morning air nipping at his nose and bare feet. 

It was dreary, light grey clouds covering most of the sky. His chest felt heavy, but it was nothing against his wings as he jumped up and off the railing.

He was finally flying again. Wind whooshed through his hair and he closed his eyes as he soared across the sky.

This was the closest thing he was getting to home for a little while, and soaked the feeling in all the way through to his bones. 

I want to see Scar and eat pasta and teach a class like any other day. Why did everything have to come up now, just as I was getting used to the Commission?

He opened his eyes to find none other than a poster of him and Hotguy. The one where Hotguy was looking at him through the corner of his eye while they had their bows drawn and aimed at the camera. Hotguy's eyes looked so filled with adoration even under his visor... His heart grew heavier and he tried to suppress the thoughts bubbling up in his mind.

I want him to tell me everything is going to be okay.

I want to hold him and tell him everything is going to be okay.

I want him to look at me like that again.

Why can't I stop myself from saying things like that? 

He turned around and chittered as he landed on a roof, his bare tip toes on the concrete edge. He stared at that billboard for longer than he'd care to admit. He began to memorize the ridges of Hotguy's face, and he looked so familiar but he couldn't place it. His lips were so pretty and even with his serious face, he looked like he was just about to smile.

Why do I keep that smile off his face? Why can't I just make him smile and keep it that way?

He began arguing with himself, a habit that never seemed to go away.

He isn't meant to be this close to me. I need to get him away.

But why isn't he? He's wonderful, I should let him be close to me.

He can't know who I am. I don't want to do something that I can't come back from and suffer for it.

Haven't I already done that? Yelling at him and getting mad at him for his power doesn't do anything but make him hurt. I'm just being an asshole.

Sometimes you have to be an asshole to protect your heart, and I'm doing what's necessary.

This is entirely unnecessary. I'm just being horrible. I should apologize.

I'm being practical and apologizing won't do anything.

I want to make him happy. I've hurt him and he didn't deserve that.

The other voice ran out of convincing arguments. The last statement circled around in his head over and over again, burning a hole in his subconcious. His head began to ache and he felt tears welling in his eyes. 

When will I learn to stop hurting people I care about?

He'd done it to Jimmy over and over again. He didn't know how Jimmy could stay after he said some of the horrible things he did. He'd pushed Pearl away for years and only recently did she start talking to him again. 

Mumbo told him he had a crush on him and he told him he wouldn't ever see him like that in the worst way possible. He insulted him and made him feel unwanted and yet Mumbo still accepted his apology. 

His friends would warn newcomers that Grian could be mean, but he never really meant what he said. “He's averse to saying nice things,” Jimmy had said once with a chuckle.

Any time he wanted to say something kind, he felt an overwhelming embarrassment. Vulnerability was like acid, burning him with just a drop. If anyone were to break through the layers of barbed wire and guard dogs… he didn't know what he would do.

If a fox heard a hatchling calling for its mom, there would be nothing stopping it from climbing up to the nest and devouring the baby with no remorse.

Chapter Text

Bleary eyed and drunk on sleep, Grian screwed his eyes shut tighter at the afternoon light that came through the sheer curtains. He didn’t care what time it was, it was far too early if his body had anything to say about it. He nuzzled his face into the pillow to block out the sun.

The pillow was oddly resistant. The pillow was oddly… bicep shaped. The pillow smelled a bit like… Hotguy?

His eyes shot open to see the face of his superhero partner mere inches away from his own. He chirped in surprise and slowly but urgently removed himself from the bed. 

He could picture the scene in his mind from the third person perspective. Him cuddled against Hotguy, his wing over him and the blankets. Hotguy was wearing the silly cowboy sleep mask, and Grian had black streaks down his cheeks from the makeup he’d neglected to wash off after his emotional flight. 

He rushed to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. A flush had bloomed on his cheeks and he was very, very awake now.

Originally, he’d gotten back from a long, grueling grieving process that had taken the whole morning, and was exhausted beyond belief. He’d told himself that he would need to sleep, so he’d huddle up on the edge of the bed, as far as he could be from Hotguy on the king size bed, and fall asleep. When he stumbled through the balcony door, he thought he’d done just that. He didn’t even have the energy to change, so where had that message gotten lost?

Did his flock instinct take over in his sleep and make him turn over and snuggle into the very person that had set off his grieving?

He groaned and washed his face fervently, hoping that the cold water would somehow erase the feelings that threatened to stack on the existing ones and form a precarious tower. How did anyone deal with having multiple emotions? Just two was far too much for Grian.

Unfortunately, washing his face in the silent room only served to let his subconscious play phantom sounds through the running water. He just barely heard Bohemian Rhapsody, as if it was playing several doors over. He swore he could feel Hotguy’s arm around him. The way he leaned into Grian, face nuzzled in his hair as he laughed at himself. His heart felt light and joyful for a wonderful moment as they danced together. He remembered looking at Hotguy’s beautiful, perfect smile, and imagining days and weeks and months and years seeing it.

He shut off the faucet quickly and rubbed his face off with a white washcloth, which came back with black spots. He sighed, grabbed his moisturizer and spread it over his irritated face. He could almost see Hotguy’s face in the mirror when he had sat outside his door in Hero Tower, where Grian applied his home remedy to Hotguy’s black eye.

He wanted to scream. The next best option was doing his makeup again, harsh and angrily because precision wasn’t the name of the game for hiding his identity.

The messier, the better.

-

It was time to train, but there was a small issue. No training room. No facilities that powers could be used in. For Hotguy, that wasn't much of an issue, he could just work out anywhere like anyone else. But for Lightning McQueen and Hermione over there, it was pretty much impossible to train without a space made for it.

So when Tek came up to their room that afternoon, he was exhausted. He had just spent two hours figuring out where they could train that was remote enough to avoid prying eyes (which seemed to be everywhere now), big enough to accommodate someone with superspeed, and well kept enough to make everyone comfortable.

When he'd finally found that place and gotten approval from the owners, he felt relieved to say the least. But that meant he had to actually get out of bed–the bed his husband was taking an adorable nap in, mind you–and drag himself upstairs.

He knocked on Hotguy and Cuteguy's door, still rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes. He was near falling asleep standing up. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he slept.

The door opened. “T-Tango?!” Hotguy exclaimed, wide eyed.

“Yeah…” 

It took him a moment to realize that was not the name he was meant to be referred to as at the moment. 

“Oh my Gods!” He was awake now! “You- um-” He scrambled, hands flying to hid face and feeling that his identity-hiding glasses were not on and his hair wasn't even smouldering because he was so exhausted and malnourished.

Cuteguy showed up in the door beside Hotguy, looking wide awake. “Tango?” He asked, looking at Hotguy confusedly. 

Then he turned and tried to mask a startled expression, but his eyes had widened all the same.

“Guys-! You… jdkabfkajriebd AUGH!” He dragged his hands down his face, heart beating fast. “How- wait! How do you know my name?!” He squeaked out, shoving the boys into the room and closing the door behind him.

Hotguy took a couple seconds to answer and then said, with a hint of doubt peeking through his voice, “You own the hotel… your name’s around and I looked you up. I saw that you were… y'know.”

Tango narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Well… keep it to yourself. I don't want you spreading this info.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his head back. “Gods, what am I gonna do?”

Cuteguy gently nudged himself into the conversation. “Well, we keep it to ourselves and we all…” He bit his lip, clearly thinking, before he shrugged his shoulders with his palms facing up “pretend this never happened?”

“Yep.” Tango nodded, a miserable look on his face.

“Yep.” Hotguy affirmed with a thumbs up.

“Okay.” Cuteguy said, finalizing the verdict.

-

A few hours later, Heroes gathered underground around a mile outside the city in a giant storage facility. Scar had absolutely no idea what kind of business would use a room 100 feet high, half a mile long, all concrete and metal, and buried halfway underground of all things, but he supposed that wasn’t a necessary question in this scenario.

Somehow, Tango had managed to organize that training equipment be set up before any of them had even arrived, which made Scar’s head spin. How had Tango ever been able to join them for lunch at the university? Just the thought that he managed the hotel seemed overwhelming, but now Scar knew that he was also managing several Heroes at the same time!

Tango directed people around, now in his proper Hero suit. It reminded Scar of the time Sherriff, who he’d deduced as Jimmy, was causing trouble in the street and Tek took care of the whole situation, and it warmed his heart. He’d always found them a cute couple of course, but retrospectively realizing that they knew each other’s identities and bothered each other was just adorable…

“HOTGUY!” Tek shouted, waving his hand in front of his face. 

“Oh!” Scar blinked a few times, readjusting to paying attention to the real world again. “What’s up, Tekky Tek?”

Tango scrunched his nose and muttered, “Don’t call me that.” He looked across the room and pointed at Bdubs. “We’re working on training Bdubs today, so help me out here.” 

As they crossed the room, Scar looked at all the people spread out all across the facility where Heroes trained for battle. Aim practice, spars, flying, obstacle courses, weights, and climbing walls.

“So I’ve warned everyone that you’re learning your powers today, Bdubs. To be honest, it will probably be good for training anyway.” Tek said, checking his comm. “Impulse… is not here… great. He got this great idea for a weapon last night, let's see if he gets anywhere with it…”

“Ooooh, what is it?” Scar asked.

Tek shrugged. “Some repeater-enhanced packed ice actuator with a redstone carburetor.”

Scar looked to Bdubs to see if he understood. He did not.

“Okay…”

“Anyway, we need to get your power going, Bdubs!” Tek redirects, turning off his comm. “Do you know how to activate your power on demand?”

Bdubs pursed his lips and looked away, embarrassed. “No, I don’t. It’s always been on accident.”

Tek nodded. “No worries. Let’s try to hone it. What usually triggers your powers?”

“When I’m scared, usually.”

“BOO!” Scar yelled and lunged toward Bdubs.

“AUCK!” He shrieked, stumbling backwards before lunging back at Scar. “Why, you–!”

“Okay!” Tek grumbled, pulling Scar away as if Bdubs was a feral animal and Scar a very dumb child. “How about we do some staged attacks and see how you react to those?”

“Yeah, sounds a lot better than saying ‘boo’ at me like an idiot !” Bdubs snapped, giving Scar a dirty look, complete with flared nostrils.

Scar had to fight back the urge to laugh.

They went through several scenarios, trying to make Bdubs’ powers activate against something. They tried charging at Bdubs, shooting arrows his way, verbally threatening him, pretending to start a fight, and Tek even lassoed him and dragged him across the smooth concrete floor. Nothing. Except for Scar being entranced by the fact that Tango must actually be a cowboy because he knew exactly how to use a lasso!

It had been over an hour of running through these exercises before they stopped and sat down together, sweaty and frustrated.

“I don’t know what it is!” Bdubs shouted up at the ceiling, balling his hands in fists. “It’s like I don’t have powers unless I think I’m gonna die!”

Tek sighed and took a sip of water. “We’ll figure this out, it’s alright.”

“Yea! We know you’re really powerful, we’ve just got to figure out how we can connect you with your powers.” Scar said, eating a cookie. Tek had gotten a snack bar. Just another reason to admire Tango, he had excellent forethought. No wonder Jimmy couldn’t shut up about Tango, he was perfect.

As Scar was laying back on the floor, eyes closed, he heard a shriek and the familiar surge of time slowing around him.

He opened his eyes as quickly as he could, but it took seconds before he could see the flurry of feathers in the corner of his eye. Pink and black. Of course Cuteguy would come over here to terrorize the new Hero.

Time stuttered before it fell back into step and Bdubs yelled, “WHAT THE HECK, MAN?!” He gasped in a deep breath before he continued, stamping his foot on the ground as he stood. “You have quite the nerve coming here and–”

Cheers and laughs came from all around the giant room. Heroes looked around with surprise and amusement, and one even shouted. “Good job, Timekeeper!”

Bdubs stopped and looked over, eyes wide. “Oh, well,” He mimed flipping his hair. “In that case, I guess you get a pass for scaring me.”

Cuteguy snorted and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “I was just going to come here to ask if you wanted to take a flight to try to scare the power outta ya.”

Bdubs grimaced. “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely an option…” He looked at Tek and Scar with a nervous face.

He was new to this whole Hero business, he’d never even met Cuteguy, and now he has to ask himself whether or not he trusted the crazy guy who just scared him enough to fly on his back. Scar could relate to the feeling.

“CG, give him a second, you just scared him half to death.” Tek shooed Cuteguy a little further away and took a moment to talk one-on-one with Bdubs. 

Meanwhile, Scar’s emotions were like a fire put on high with Cuteguy around. Things weren’t working out between them, obviously, and so every interaction–or even just proximity–was full of tension.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Cuteguy was avoiding him. He knew that his panic attack hung in the air between them and clouded everything. His chest tightened when he thought about that night, the cruelty and tenderness in such seemingly quick progression. He’d lost a lot of the things that happened during and after his panic attack, when adrenaline had flooded his system to the point of memory blackout.

But he remembered Cuteguy being there with him. How the one person he didn’t want to see right then was the one who was there for him. The one who helped him when he was in so much pain. The one that prioritized his comfort over their own.

As much as he was thankful, he couldn't help but feel angry. He didn’t want Cuteguy to be his saviour, coming in on his high horse to save him from the problem he caused.

Scar was mad at himself for not realizing the role Cuteguy had been playing here earlier. Was he really accepting the way that he treated him? Cuteguy had even told him before to not ignore or agree with the mean things he said to him. So why, after all the times he’d been berated and insulted, did he stay complacent in his own mistreatment?

He looked down and let out a deep sigh. He could see Cuteguy looking at him in his periphery and he didn’t turn his head.

“Okay, bird-guy, let’s test it out,” Bdubs declared, stretching animatedly, squatting as he knit his hands together straight over his head.

Cuteguy laughed and spread his wings out. “Hop on, time-guy.”

Bdubs hesitantly approached and put his hands on Cuteguy’s shoulders. They were the same height, so Cuteguy could grab Bdubs’ legs and hold them off the ground pretty easily.

“Ready?”

Bdubs took a moment to respond. “Um… I wouldn’t say–AHHHHHH!”

Cuteguy launched them into the air, doing loop-de-loops, and being generally terrifying, as he had the first time he flew with Hotguy.

Time felt unsteady yet again, but it wasn’t as intense as it had been before. It felt like a heartbeat, speeding up and slowing down at regular intervals as Cuteguy jostled him around. When they started flying straight again, time began to level out, though still it rocked like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

Cuteguy must have started using his super speed because time slowed even more, but he seemed to stay flying at the same speed. Disorienting was far too weak a word for how Scar felt trying to follow their motion as his movements got slower and slower. Time felt heavy.

Then it all snapped back to normal. Scar over extended his neck because he'd apparently been pushing his chin too forcefully to the left as he tried to fight the time shift and he groaned. “Ow…”

Back on the ground now, Cuteguy and Bdubs spoke excitedly about their shared time and space manipulation powers and how they worked so flawlessly together.

“I mean, I could slow time while you launch an attack, it's perfect!” Bdubs exclaimed, turning around and catching sight of Tek. “Don't you think, man? I mean, just think about it, with that mycelium stuff, if I could slow down time while Cuteguy did all the important business, we'd be set!”

Tek nodded encouragingly. “Yeah, yeah, definitely. We need to do more testing though, make sure you have clear control of your power.”

“I mean, of course, but wow! That was so cool to do all that!” 

Cuteguy agreed with an elated grin, hand poised on his hip.

Scar felt a sneer that had made its way onto his face unintentionally. He corrected it into a neutral expression, determined to keep this business away from uninvolved and unnecessary parties.

Suddenly, an alert rang out everywhere. Every single comm in the room went off at the same time in a cacophony of ring tones and startled surprises in response to their notifications being on full volume.

COMMISSION ALERT

Urgent matters at Boatem International School - five thousand children locked inside as mycelium attacks. All Heroes report to Boatem International School immediately.

Tek stared down at his comm, puzzled.

“I-I'm not sure who this could be from.” He frantically clicked through tabs and tried to figure out who on Earth could have sent it, and his hair was flaming blue from pure stress. “I mean, it says it's from False, but she was… she's been missing since the attack at Hero Tower.”

Heroes started leaving in droves, running right out the doors, always ready to complete a mission at the drop of a hat.

“This isn’t even standard formatting!” Tek shrieked, sprinting across the room to warn what people he could. “Stop! Everyone slow down!”

“Halt!” Hotguy yelled, and his voice echoed around the entire space. Scar was intimidated by his own power as the ten Heroes left in the building slid to a stop. He immediately deactivated his power and shouted. “Listen to Tek!”

Cuteguy shook his arms out and scrunched his face up, clearly uncomfortable with his temporary lack of control. He turned to look at Scar, who quickly averted his gaze.

Tek motioned for everyone to gather around him as he leaned forward, hands on his knees while he took deep breaths. “Okay, everyone…” He steadied himself, becoming the composed, strong, unphased version of himself for a moment. “That was a fake alert. We are following behind at a distance.” He looked around the huddle they’d created and put his hand in. “I love you guys, so do your Hero duties and do not hesitate to ask for help.”

Scar put his hand on Tango’s and nodded with a worried smile. “We love you, too, Tekky Wekky.”

Tek leveled a disbelieving glare at Hotguy as others put their hands in.

“What are we putting our hands in for?” One bubbly Hero asked, putting her red gloved hand into the pile with a giant grin, her tail wagging behind her excitedly.

Tek returned his attention to the group and improvised a group phrase. “To taking down every Villain we see!”

“To taking down every Villain we see!” They shouted in a disorganized cacophony before they rushed out of the building together.

Scar wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting when he arrived on the scene with his team, but still silence was as far from any guess he could have made. 

Not a Hero in sight. Instead, there were people watching their every move. From the coffee shop across the street to the campus library, there were people inside and outside watching the Heroes like vultures eying their next meal. Bunches of mycelium lined the streets, some of it covering entire benches or doors or trees. Scar’s skin bloomed with goosebumps, and his jaw set in a discomfited clench, making his teeth ache.

Cuteguy was the first to speak up. “We need to look for the others.” He said with resolve, drawing his guns from their holsters.

Another Hero answered with a timid voice, taking a microscopic step backwards. “I see Hawk… they're… watching us.”

The silence was deafening as they all realized that several of the people looking at them were their coworkers. Their clothes weren’t their usual uniforms because they’d just been training… but that was the least disguising aspect, because every single one of them looked soulless. 

Staring.

Watching.

You.

Tek looked more apprehensive and scared than Scar had ever seen him. He was always a leader, but he had never been the leader, at least that’s what Scar had seen. He'd always had someone above him to ask for clarification from or take directions from. He could feel the terror gushing out of Tango’s frame, see the gulp as he looked down the street. He visibly steeled himself. “If you’re in, you’re in. Make your choice.”

He barreled down the street in a ball of shrieking flames. Watching figures began to run at him, mycelium seemingly at their beck and call for anything they wished to do. Staircases of purple tendrils formed beneath their feet like magic, bio-shields appeared on their arm in the blink of an eye, and weapons made of the stuff materialized in their hands. Tek jumped, catching one Villain by the collar, burning the mycelium axe in their hand. Another, he kicked and a flare of fire engulfed them in a single second. His angry scream was terrifying, and Scar couldn’t believe there were more coming to challenge him.

Hotguy brought his bow over his head and rushed behind a parked car, finding a safe place to snipe. He nocked an arrow and slowly raised his head above the car trunk to spot his target. 

The sounds of combat filled the air, joined by bodies being flung in different directions. Cuteguy swept across the sky with his guns blazing. Just as Scar spotted a Villain in range, he felt a body slam into his back. He whipped his head around and reached for his dagger before he realized it was Bdubs.

He was cowering behind him, low to the ground, eyes wide and scared, and Hotguy felt like he’d just been transported back in time to look at a younger version of himself. He ducked down below the car’s sightline and brought a hand to Bdubs’ shoulder. “Are you okay?”

His response came out a blubbering mess. “Well, I wanted to help in the battle, but I have no idea what to do and I feel completely useless and I’m really scared because I haven’t really trained before, but I don’t know where a safe spot to go is right now and–” A sob ripped right through his throat and Scar brought him into a hug. 

“We’re gonna be alright, just stay with me, okay?”

Bdubs nodded back with teary eyes.

Hotguy stood up again and took aim at the mycelium monsters coming to life in the street, imposing and terrifying, and most of all unnatural . The mycelium forms sprouted from seemingly nothing. One second, a somewhat normal looking person, the next it was a beast with exoskeleton armour and worm-looking tendrils to make up a sword. The mycelium was too weak to cause any real damage through slashing force, at least to Scar’s knowledge, so why were they even there?

He shot and, as always, hit his mark. The mycelium beast fell back and turned to find the assailant, anger radiating off of its cobbled form. Scar shot another arrow, which lodged right into the shoulder of the monster, making that chunk of fiber slough off and reveal the figure beneath. It was too quick to tell before another Hero had stunned and apprehended them, but Scar thought that it may have been someone he knew… beneath all of that fungus.

He huffed out a breath and looked back over to Bdubs. “Keep close and covered.” He demanded, and dashed into the nearest shop, hoping that it would be a better sniping spot. To his shock and displeasure, someone sat at the cash register, watching… waiting to strike. His heart raced as he pulled Bdubs into the shop anyway, determined to keep him out of harm’s way.

“Stay quiet,” He told Bdubs, looking through the window that was already broken, likely from the other Heroes that had tried to fight, but were clearly taken down and now they were being used to support the Villains’ side now.

Scar’s heart was beating in his ears as he searched around for what or who needed to be brought down. Everything around seemed too mundane to be a real battle ground, but then he’d see fear and murder crash across Heroes’ faces like a car wreck. 

He found another target, a mycelium shield, just like the one the roach had made when Zed prodded at it. He pulled his bowstring back and–

Time stopped.

Scar couldn't turn around to see what had startled Bdubs–at least that's what he assumed happened–so he stood there frozen, freaking out inside his head. 

Is this my last battle? If all the other Heroes fell, does that mean that… What if I’m not strong enough? What if I can’t protect Bdubs and he’s lost because I wasn’t good enough?

His chest ached, adrenaline coursing through his veins like a wildfire. 

Time started again.

In one swift movement, Scar dropped his bow, pulled a knife from his utility belt, turned, and arced the knife to slice right above Bdubs’ head. The creature disintegrated, fibers contracting back into slivers of dry, dead mycelium.

Scar huffed and picked up his bow again, grabbing Bdubs by the wrist and leading him back into the street. He hoisted Bdubs up on top of a car and gave him the knife. “Stay safe, I’ll be right back.”

He ran into the fight, arrows ready to fly. Cuteguy was tearing mycelium to bits with his talons, Tek was tying up a mycelium-infested human and adding them to the group of people they’d managed to recover, and other Heroes were struggling to keep the fungal beasts at bay. Hotguy started shooting. Strike by strike, he hit his targets and watched as they fell to the ground in a pile of purple muck. 

One form, the shape of a robed human appeared behind Cuteguy. It wasn’t attacking, it wasn’t even moving. It was like the ones they’d seen in the alleyway. Eyes, a deep purple, were just barely visible beneath the hood. An uneasy queasyness came to Scar’s stomach and he shot.

The figure turned to look at Scar and disappeared. The arrow flew past Cuteguy’s head and he swung his head around and made eye contact with Hotguy, a confused face. Then it changed. He looked livid. Then he was flying, speeding to his side.

“What were you doing? You’re not infected, too, are you?!” He spat, keeping a gun pointed at him as he pivoted on his heel to check for any other threats.

Scar shook his head. “No, I’m not infected. Now get that gun out of my face!” He shoved the barrel away and turned to check on Bdubs. 

He sat on the roof of the red car, knife in his hands as he shook, fear painted on his face so vividly that it lit a spark of protectiveness in Scar. 

Through all the sounds of clashing metal, grunts, flames bursting, and people yelling, Scar had a profound realization as he ran to Bdubs’ side.

I was never a burden.

He remembered all the moments he’d been just as scared, if not more scared than Bdubs. It was so simple to care for him, to see him in his moment of need and do all he could to help him. He’d done this for so many other people, but he’d never seen himself in them. The fear in Bdubs’ frame brought him back to when he was little. The way he’d cower as monsters surrounded him, and how he still curled in on himself when he had a panic attack. It hurt so much to see that in someone else, the pure vulnerability in their eyes.

He jumped onto the car’s hood and turned to snipe another monster gaining up on his Hero partners. As that mycelium form collapsed, the clumps started to gather and writhe. It snaked across the ground in thinner and thinner lines, like a fungus in a petri dish made web-like matrices to find food. 

It made Scar’s skin crawl. 

It reached out with its finger-like forms and eventually met the group of people who’d been infected, defeated, and tied up so that the Heroes would be able to… cure them? It wasn’t clear what was going to happen with them. Though it became clear that they couldn’t come with the Heroes because mycelium formed a clump around them. A shield, maybe? The only thing visible now was their heads, peeking out from under the purple mass turning them into one, conjoined thing.

Cuteguy clearly noticed and flew above the scene. Scar heard him shout something and Tek looked up, flames lowering to a simmer as he heaved for air. Cuteguy swooped him up in his arms and landed beside the car Hotguy and Bdubs were gathered on. 

Tek attempted to catch his breath as he spoke. “It has ties everywhere! It can sprout from pretty much anywhere it falls !” He turned to look at the battle ground, covered in several things that had been burnt to a crisp, but above that, purple tendrils still snaked. “It’s like it knew where I was and what my moves were going to be and–” He gasped. “Is anyone even left?!”

Cuteguy grabbed his arm and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The street had grown much quieter after Tek left. Before, everything was so chaotic and covered in smoke that it was impossible to really see what was going on, but as the dust settled, it was clear that the enemy must have won. The whole street was burnt concrete, brick, and mycelium.

“I think it’s like Zed said. The mycelium can feel when you step on it.” Tek pulled out his comm and dialed. “Xisuma needs to be here now. ”

He walked a small distance down the street, and in the meantime Cuteguy turned to him and Bdubs. “I’m going to check for survivors.” And the next moment he was gone.

Hotguy helped Bdubs off the car and sighed with exhaustion as he checked him for injuries. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me back there.” He pulled Hotguy into a hug, to which Scar smiled and returned the gesture. “And… I controlled it.”

“What?”

“My power. I saw the thing coming at me and I froze–time, I mean–and then I remembered that you were right there and I knew you wouldn’t be able to do anything unless time was normal and then… I controlled it. And you saved me.”

Scar looked at Bdubs, thoughts racing.

I was never a burden.

I was never a burden.

He almost cried.

-

Back at their new headquarters, Xisuma’s room, they discussed what happened. For the most part, it was Hotguy explaining the situation because Tek was eating like a starving wolf. Fire powers must have burned a lot of calories. 

“It’s a full-blown infestishion! I mean investation–invesina–infescma–”

“Infestation.” Cuteguy butted in.

Scar looked away for a moment. “Anyway. We need to do something to get this under control.”

Xisuma nodded, feelings inscrutable with the way his face was always under that helmet. “Impulse has been at Cub’s place because he has a mini lab set up and he’s building a prototype for some kind of freeze ray. I’ll ask him for updates on all that… Until then, we need to keep communications in person.” He looked down at his comm and frowned. “If the… whatever it is… was able to hack our devices, it’s better to not share any important info electronically.” He looked over to Bdubs. “I’m not sure about how it would work with normal phones, but be careful and turn your location off. No one can know where we’re hiding.”

“Good idea.” Cuteguy asserted, moving to disable his comm and take it off his wrist. “How are we going to keep contact on missions?”

Xisuma was silent for a moment before he responded with a grave voice. “I don’t want this to be the case but… I’m thinking that we may need to assume that if someone doesn’t come back, they’re gone.”

The silence was suffocating.

Scar had been holding his breath so long he had to gasp. “Woah, okay.”

Cuteguy held his jaw in his hand. “Yeah, that’s… let’s keep thinking on it.”

After another hour of discussions and theories leading nowhere, it was time to sleep. Scar’s body felt like he’d hauled lead 10 miles uphill, and he had a short fuse.

Stepping into their room, he saw the state they’d left it in and sighed, running a hand over his face as he paused and leaned on the wall to get some pressure off of his legs. The bed was entirely unmade, their belongings and clothes were strewn across the floor in various piles, and the bathroom still had puddles on the floor from at least 8 hours ago. 

Cuteguy came in behind him and chittered. “Don’t stand in the walkway.” He chided.

For some reason, that infuriated Scar. He took a deep breath and turned to go into the bathroom so he could avoid an argument. He slammed the door and clenched his fist as Cuteguy squawked out a “Really?!”

Water ran through his fingers, cold and soothing. His thoughts were consumed by rambling frustration, telling him how stupid he was and how stupid Cuteguy was and that it was time to defend himself. He’d gone far too long letting things happen to himself, and he was going to fix that.

He dried his hands and steeled himself in the mirror before he went into the main room and faced his partner.

“Birdy. I need to talk to you.” He stated bluntly.

Cuteguy looked over with a worried expression as he took off his shoes while sitting on the armchair. “Um… okay?”

“What did I ever do to you?”

His aural feathers stuck to the sides of his head and he was speechless.

“It’s been days and you still haven’t apologized.” He felt his throat already starting to burn, ready to cry, but he wouldn’t let that happen. Not right now. “You act like you’re the one who deserves an apology. I mean, how on earth can you not see the situation we’re in?!” His voice was rising against his will and the words just kept coming. “I’ve done nothing but do my best and it’s never good enough for you! I told you secrets, I put so much trust in you. But all I am to you is a filthy liar and manipulator, right?”

There they were. The tears rolled down his cheeks, burning hot in the cold room. “Am I really that bad? That you have to scream in my face that I'm a manipulator that cares about nobody but themself? I care so much!” He wiped his nose and tried to bring back the angry facade, cover just how much he cared in case it was used against him again. “I've hurt people because of my stupidity and you're no exception. I know that I'm no saviour, but I sure as hell ain't the lying sack of shit you treat me as.” His voice broke and he couldn’t continue talking. Sobs ripped from his throat without his consent and he was sure that Cuteguy would yell back at him.

Instead, he heard in a voice quiet as the swaying trees on a windy night. “You’re right.”

He looked up. Cuteguy was crying too. He’d been too distracted to actually see his reaction, but he’d brought his knees to his chest and he was hugging himself tight.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was so high pitched and regretful it hurt. “I… I… I was scared and I was a coward and I got mad at you for no reason and I should have never yelled at you in front of everyone.” He suddenly scrambled to his feet and wrung his hands. “You should be mad at me. I deserve it. Scream at me as much as you want to.” He screwed his eyes shut, preparing for impact. “Please.”

Scar’s heart ached so badly as he looked at his partner, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“Just…” He choked out another cry before he placed a hand on Cuteguy’s shoulder, turning him around. “Go outside and leave me alone right now.”

“Okay.” He squeaked, leaving the room to stand on the balcony, closing the door behind him.

Scar wiped away the wetness on his inflamed eyes.

I was never a burden.

He sat on the side of the bed, undressed from his Hero uniform as much as he could muster at the moment, and curled himself under the blanket to cry. He grabbed his phone and started scrolling through texts between him and his friends. He wanted to pretend that he could leave. Pretend that he wasn't a Hero that needed to save a whole city because who else would do it? He needed his people so badly and he didn’t think that no comms meant no texts period. So he texted the one person he knew wouldn’t push and prod at him for telling half-truths.

Scar: hey G

Scar: miss u

He hiccuped and wiped away his tears. 

Grian: hey whats up? Miss you too buddy

Scar: im just really hurting i feel like im never gonna get better

Grian: oh scar :((( things are going to get better. Have you taken potions and medicine?

Scar: yea i have

Scar: cronic pain woop woop :(

Grian: its really late, do you need someone? we can call if you need

Scar: yea we can call

Scar's phone vibrated and Grian's contact photo came up. It was the first picture he'd ever taken of Grian. They were in the same group for a project in sophomore year of university, and Grian was in the middle of talking when Scar snapped a picture. He was blinking and his mouth was open and it looked horrible , but it was one of Scar's favourite pictures of him.

“Hi,” Scar answered, bringing his phone to his ear as he lowered his voice so Cuteguy wouldn't hear.

“Hey, Scar. I'm sorry you're not feeling well, man.” His voice was quiet, too. Soft and sweet unlike his voice most of the time.

“Yea, I don't know. I just feel a little hopeless tonight.” He felt more tears threatening to fall and he sniffled. 

“What's wrong?”

“I don't know… I just… I feel kind of trapped.” Hiding what was happening almost made him feel worse.

“You're not trapped. You're going to get better, and everything will turn out alright. I know being sick and hurting is hard, but you're stronger than anyone I know, Scar. I believe in you.”

It was like a stab to the heart, his stomach, his kidneys, his lungs, his throat, everything. He didn't feel strong, but hearing it from Grian felt so… strange. His heart beat faster and he wanted so very desperately to lay in his arms. Maybe he was going loopy because he was so sad and overwhelmed, but he thought that Grian could hold him and make all his troubles melt away.

Lizzie's words were starting to feel more real.

“Thank you, Gri. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” A long pause. “I wish I could be there with you.”

“I wish you could, too.”

-

Grian sat on the balcony, feeling the cold of the night start piercing through his skin after thirty minutes of talking. Still, he didn't want to hang up. He wanted Scar to talk to him forever, and it didn't matter what about. He would listen intently and envision them cuddling for as long as he could, and the cold wouldn’t matter. He wrapped his wings–that were in desperate need of a preen–around himself.

“I should sleep.” Scar said, letting out an adorable-sounding yawn. 

“Yeah… you should. You need rest to feel better.” Grian said softly. Is it creepy that I want to watch him sleep?

Scar sounded pouty as he said good night. “I don't wanna sleep, but I guess if you say I have tooooo.”

“I'm not forcing you to do anything, you're the one that brought it up.” Grian smiled and he could almost see the expression on Scar's face. The way he'd stick his lips out in a frown and throw his head to the side dramatically. 

The feeling of adoration or love or whatever it was churned in his stomach, and all he wanted right then was to hold him. Hold Scar like couples did. He wanted to put his arms around Scar's shoulders and kiss his head and hold him tight to let him know that there was always someone there for him that would do anything to make him feel loved and happy.

“Maybe you're forcing me a little bit,” Scar responded, and Grian could hear the smile in his voice, too.

Grian giggled quietly. “Alright. A little bit. Good night, Scar.” I love you. “Sleep well.”

“Good night.” 

Beep.

Grian set his phone down beside him and looked off into the empty night. The heavy rain clouds blocked out the moon and stars, and city lights were fewer and further between after the mycelium attack. 

His heart was a heavy burden that needed time to heal from all of the ways it had been hurt before. Looking over the darkness peppered with light, however bleak it was in comparison to its usual glamour, strangely gave him hope that he could heal. 

He couldn't let himself be this person he'd been turning into. He despised the way he got out of control. The way he hurt people, and caused chaos when he was emotionally overwhelmed. He wanted– needed– to be more patient, more kind, more transparent about how he was feeling.

He got to his feet and shoved his phone in his tiny pocket. He hesitated at the door, worrying that Hotguy was still wanting to be alone. 

He slowly opened the door, finding that Hotguy was fast asleep with his cowboy themed sleep mask on. And Grian smiled. 

He went to the bathroom and got ready for bed. He didn't want to hurt Hotguy more, but he did need to get sleep, so he curled up on the very edge of the bed and kept his wings as close as he possibly could to himself. 

“Good night,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

Chapter Text

Scar woke up with feathers in his hair.

He was mesmerized when he looked in the mirror. Between locks of hair, black and pink feathers poked out, almost like a crown upon his head. They went with the flow of his hair, perfectly placed to compliment the cascade of his brunette waves. Against his will, his stomach fluttered with butterflies while goosebumps raised on his skin. He smiled at his reflection. Words for what he felt passed through his mind, but he didn’t want to jinx it, so he let them pass as quickly as they came.

Of course, Cuteguy was nowhere to be found in their small hotel room, so he must have fled before Hotguy awoke so they wouldn't have to face each other after last night's events. But he’d left him this.

Scar slowly carded through his hair and gathered the feathers in his hand. He took a deep breath. 

He wanted to figure out what they meant. Were they a peace offering? Was he telling him he was beautiful? Was it some sort of avian communication that Scar had no idea about? For all he knew, avians could decorate their next kill with their feathers, yet he found that he would still feel pretty flattered.

He laid them on the counter beside Cuteguy’s hairbrush. He hesitated for a moment before he took one back. For him to keep. He placed it in his pocket and rubbed the soft vane between his fingers, face flushed with something he refused to name again.

When he went into the main room to find a change of clothes, he spotted a plate in his periphery. He walked over to the desk and sat down, laying his cane beside him. A note beside a plate full of raspberry danishes.

I’m on patrol
Got these from the breakfast bar for you because I didn’t know if you’d wake up early enough for it
(I took all of them because I know you like them)

Feelings surged so high in his body that he had to double over. His heart was beating so fast and his face flushed even redder and he wanted to deny it, but he felt so overwhelmed by the small things that Cuteguy had done for him. Cuteguy admitted to his wrongs, respected his space, and left one of his favourite foods for him. 

It was almost embarrassing how easy it was to make Scar swoon. He giggled to himself and took a bite of one of the dozen danishes Cuteguy had taken for him. Delicious.

After a heaping portion of danishes and getting ready to get back to work, he heard R2D2 beeps coming from his comm. He spun in circles trying to find it before he realized it was in his utility belt. He rolled his eyes at himself and opened his comm.

01110100 01100001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01101101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01100101

7@4K333 7##3//||\\ 7700o0 //}}\\3EE

xhzff joamw ax xhzff joamw ax xhzff joamw ax

A lump formed in his throat. His comm kept beeping, message after message, unrelenting. 

Joining the shrill sound, his phone rang across the room. He turned his comm to mute and went in another circle trying to find his phone. On the bedside table, there was Cub’s contact photo (a very unimpressed-looking panda) shining far too bright on his phone. He wanted to answer, but with the texts still rolling in, he worried it was a ploy. What if he was being tracked through these messages somehow? What if the call was the one step they needed to connect the dots? But that would mean the enemy knew his secret identity, which… he didn’t believe. They couldn’t have, could they?

By the time he’d thought through it, the call went to voicemail. Maybe it was best to just go ask the experts upstairs. 

He took his phone and stuck it in his belt along with his comm.

He went upstairs and bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to remember what rooms had been turned into temporary laboratories. Thankfully, he didn’t have to think too hard because Jimmy was wandering around straightening the paintings lining the halls because Heroes weren’t too good at maintaining interior design choices.

“Hey, Timmy!” Hotguy waved, leaning on the banister with a signature Hotguy grin. “Would you be so kind as to–”

“What did you call me?” Jimmy looked at him with wide, befuddled eyes, dropping his arms from the picture frame. 

Some signature Hotguy confidence slipped. “Um… Timmy?”

Several emotions crossed his face before he settled on mild frustration. “My name is Jimmy, though I assume you know that because you seem to know what my annoying friends call me, so I kindly ask you to not do that. You don’t know me.” 

Oh right… Jimmy really hates that nickname and the Commission.

“Apple-oglees… apomonogies… aplologies—” He gave up on that word. “Sorry! I just needed to ask where the temp lab is… I am bad with directions…”

Jimmy gave him a look like he expected Hotguy to be bad with directions, and pointed down the hall. “Room 815,” He muttered in a monotone voice.

Hotguy nodded and quickly passed by him. I wouldn’t guess that was how Jimmy would talk to Hotguy… I keep forgetting that I’m a completely different person on the outside.

A few knocks and Zed opened the door, giant curious eyes and fluffy blond hair. “Oh, hi!” He opened the door to let him in and followed behind as Hotguy looked around the giant suite that was now covered in science-y stuff he didn’t understand. “I’ve got some fun discoveries I think you’ll like. There’s this really interesting polymeride I’ve been able to synthesize in here–which was really difficult with such limited tools by the way–and I have conducted a couple experiments with it so far–wait!” He laughed and turned to Hotguy. “Before I talk your ear off, did you need something? I don’t want to get in your way, sorry!”

Scar expanded his cheeks like a bubble before he poked one side to pop it. “Ummm… Oh! Yeah, I got these really cryptic messages and it’s kinda freaking me out.” He fished his comm from his belt and handed it to Zed. 

“Oh…” Zed’s eyes scanned over it with concern that only grew deeper the longer he looked. “Okay um… let me get Tek. He’s better with… whatever this is.” He stomped a few times on the floor. 

“Is that how you get his attention now?” Scar laughed.

Zed nodded with a smug smile. “He’s gotten used to it now. He says the hooves are particularly annoying.”

In only a moment, Tek was at the door letting himself in. 

“What is it?” He asked, a permanent worry disfiguring his face. 

Zed turned the comm towards him. “This is what Hotguy has been getting. And… it looks like they’re still rolling in.” He checked the screen again before confirming. “Yeah.” 

Tek ran his hands over his face and let out a tiny scream. “Okay… Okay we can deal with this.” He paced around for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, so I think what we should do is go to Cub’s, because Xisuma and Impulse are over there right now figuring things out with the,” he waved his hands around for a second before he said. “The freezerification thing. Anyway, I’ll be able to use his computer to see the location of the messages. Thankfully there’s good encryption with Commission materials, but with the way things are going, I’m not even sure how this is going to work…”

“Okay, but before we go–!” Zed handed the comm back to Scar and scrambled over to a collection of test tubes. “These!” He held one up and took the top off. “I’ve been experimenting to find some sort of antidote or vaccine-like substance to combat the mycelium in organic matter.”

 He brought it over to his terrarium where he had a collection of different mushrooms. “In the lab–before the attack–I’d discovered that our problem mycelium isn’t easily identified. I tried comparing it to every genus in the journals I trust, but there wasn’t anything that quite matched.” He opened the lid and fiddled with the test tube. “These are the closest matches I could find–which I can’t bring our problem mycelium in because you know how that went last time–and look at how they react to this tentative antidote!”

He poured the liquid over the different specimens and one by one they began to shrivel up, while the plants and animals around them seemed to be perfectly fine. 

I'll need one of you to bring an infected to a secure location so that I can test it on the real fungus!” He quickly closed the lid and left the now empty test tube in the cramped bathroom, and washed his hands. “Don’t worry, it should be safe enough as to not kill anyone! Of course that is if the fungus reacts the same.”

“I won’t get into the nitty-gritty of it, but I think that the polarization of the problem mycelium–which, I’ve decided to name Z-0 because I think it sounds cool–is operating much differently than natural levels of polarization. You see, the way that molecules work–”

Hotguy frowned in confusion.

Zed waved his hand around dismissively. “Don’t worry about that. Just know… the dipole moments are extremely unnatural. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What is that?” Hotguy asked.

“Okay, let’s just go.” Zed resigned with a sigh, hanging up his lab coat.

Tek went around the hotel checking in with each Hero that was left, which was a depressingly small amount. He’d yet to make any action to move their things from their rooms, but it was clear they weren’t going to be back before they figured out what was controlling them. He felt the weight of the situation trying to crush him, but he couldn’t let it. He had to be strong like everyone else.

Finally, Tek arrived on the roof, motioning for Zed and Hotguy to follow him. He held a staff, placing it down between gaps in the roofs to make it easier for Zed to cross with them.

As they headed towards Scar’s apartment building, Tek decided to do a debrief of his own. “So, we’ve got 15 Heroes still doing well enough to fight. I have Cuteguy doing patrols pretty much all day today because I need to figure out who else is even able to cover such a large distance in a decent time.” 

He groaned in frustration. “Do you know how hard it is to juggle the logistics of everyone’s sleep schedules, meals, patrols, and rest when there’s not enough people?! How am I supposed to assign 24 hours of patrols to 15 people?!” His voice wavered and the bags under his eyes looked even darker than before. “Not to mention the fact that getting messages back to the hotel is just so impractical with the way comms have been infiltrated. We need to get all of this sorted out, and quickly. I’ve been trying to get a permanent healer in the hotel, but all–and yes, I do mean all –Commission healers are MIA. I even looked for their addresses in our files…”

After the ten minute walk, every second of which was narrated by a very panicked Tek, they arrived on Cub’s fire escape.

Scar glanced over into his own apartment as the window was opened for them and felt a throb of homesickness at seeing his couch. The same blanket that had been there when he left was draped over the back and he longed to feel the fluffy fabric on his skin.

“Hey, dudes!” Impulse greeted, inviting them inside. Scar climbed into Cub’s apartment and his eyes widened at what had happened to it. All of his furniture had been stuffed into one corner, replaced by every single machine, apparatus, or doohickey one could imagine. As much as he knew he should’ve wondered how Cub was doing and if his bedroom was also stuffed to the brim with science-y whatevers, the first thing that came to his mind was where on Earth is Jellie?

At the sight of Scar, Cub immediately dropped what he was doing and came to his side. 

“How are your legs?” Cub code for tell me everything that’s happened since I last saw you.

Scar bit his lip apprehensively and shrugged. “Need some repairs, nothing serious though.”

Cub nodded.

“Cub, where’s your laptop? I need to track the sender on HG’s messages.” Tek asked, coming between the two and holding his hand out to receive the comm in question. 

Cub dug under a pile of sketches and retrieved his laptop. Like second nature, he grabbed the wires he needed, plugged them in, opened program after program, and found exactly what Tek was looking for.

“Looks like a TFC cipher. Tek, you decode that. I need to talk to Hotguy for a sec.” 

Cub grabbed Scar by the wrist and led him to the hallway, then into Scar’s own apartment. When he closed the door, he turned and made intense appraising eye contact.

“You’re upset about something.” He tutted. “Is that why you didn’t answer my call?”

Scar shook his head rapidly. “No! I didn’t answer because I didn’t know if it was like a tracker thingie! I didn’t know if it was connected to the freaky messages on my comm.”

“Gimme your phone,” Cub said, sitting at one of the barstools at Scar’s kitchen island. 

Scar handed it over and watched as Cub went through a million apps and websites and did stuff he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. To say he wasn’t tech savvy would be an understatement. 

“Okay, I’ve downloaded an encryptor, so calls and messages should be reliable for now, just watch out for scrambled code. If you ever get nonsense messages, break your phone. I’ve been doing research into all of this and whoever it is, they have connections, but they always mess up the first few times.” He handed his phone back. “Now. What were those texts to Grian about?”

Scar looked at his phone, where the message was open:

Scar: im just really hurting i feel like im never gonna get better

Sorrow and longing mixed into one as he read those words, remembering how safe he felt talking with Grian last night. But when he looked up, he saw barely contained fury behind Cub’s eyes.

“Cub, it’s nothing big, don’t worry about it.” He blurted out, bringing a hand to his shoulder.

“Who?”

Scar furrowed his brows. “What do you mean who?”

“Who hurt you?” 

The cold, controlled voice that Cub had perfected sent a chill down Scar’s spine..

“It’s sorted out now,” He reassured, avoiding eye contact.

Jellie wandered out of Scar’s room with a big yawn before she noticed Scar was home and bounded toward him.

“Oh my gosh! Hi Jellie!” He knelt down and scooped her up in his arms, scratching behind her ear. “You’re so happy to see me, huh, baby?” He cuddled her and cooed over her, all the while trying to ignore the anger rolling off of Cub, thick with vex magic.

“It’s Cuteguy, isn’t it?” 

Scar gulped. “No.”

“Tell me what he did.” His voice was getting deeper, splitting into multiple layers and distorting, making Jellie jump out of Scar’s arms and retreat to the living room.

“Cub, seriously, calm down.” Scar urged, taking a step closer with his arms open. 

Cub obeyed. His vex magic receded slightly, making the space feel easier to breathe in, and he engulfed Scar in a hug.

It was warm and comforting and… disorienting?

Oh no, Scar thought, he’s reading my mind, isn’t he?

Damn vex magic! He’d never had control over his own, so he’d forgotten so many things that could happen, and Cub had only forcefully read his mind once before, so he didn’t even think that he would do that, but–

“He did WHAT?!” Cub erupted, a hundred voices speaking as one. His teeth sharpened into daggers, nails into spears, and his jagged wings appeared behind him, shrouding the room in darkness. 

Scar tried to keep a hold of Cub, but it was impossible. He was dripping with magic. His body wasn’t exactly solid anymore. He was moments away from tearing someone’s head off without even a morsel of regret.

“Cub! Cub, stop! It’s not as bad as it sounds!”

In a chorus of distorted voices, Cub shrieked, “HE’S DEAD!”

And just like that, Cub was gone, flying through walls in pursuit of the one who dared to cross his Scar.

Scar led Jellie to his room and let her down under the bed so that she would feel safer, then scurried back to Cub’s apartment.

“Hey guys, we have a problem. Um, well, another problem.”

-

Grian felt it before he heard it. 

A dark oppressive power pushed around him like being stuck under water. As the air thickened with the pressure, he frantically searched around him, fearful that the mycelium had a new power he hadn’t learned of yet. Then the voices of hell rang out. 

He couldn’t understand a single word as the dark figure rounded on him. He shot into the air at superspeed, and fled across the block, turning to get a look at his pursuer.

A vex.

A storm of broiling black fog flew across the sky, and as the sky got darker, Cuteguy pulled a gun from his holster. 

He flew down, searching for a wide, open space where he could at least have a fighting chance without hurting people around them.

It screeched at supersonic frequency like a bat and nearly shocked Grian out of his flight. He needed to land, but where?

He spotted it. The river bank was clear in some areas, and this spot had a pier that looked pretty empty to him from 100 feet up, so he sped down. He landed hard on his heels and gasped in a pained breath as he sprinted across the cobblestone to a covered gazebo.

He brought out his gun and aimed to the sky, but… he couldn't see the vex anymore. Where had it gone to, it had only been a moment?!

Leathery wings cracked as the vex landed behind him. Darkness swallowed him and his breath caught, leaving him gasping for air.

He made eye contact with it. Deep red eyes, fangs sharp as razors, glasses still perched on its nose.

 It was Cub. 

Cub was a vex?!

His mind flashed images of the Hero Gala, when Hotguy ran from him. From the cruel words he spewed like poison to protect himself.

From what? 

Now he was face to face with the man who'd fired a blank round in his direction, and he prayed his death would be quick.

Fear brought tears to his eyes as he turned his gun on Cub, hand shaking as he struggled to pull the trigger.

A laugh. A laugh of a hundred voices cackling as one, becoming a cacophony of scorning, somehow communicating in a few mere seconds that Cuteguy had no chance and it was so cute he thought he did.

Cub knocked his gun out of his hand and it clattered to the ground like a children's toy. Sharp claws dug into Cuteguy's shoulders, pulling him closer to the demon before him. 

Cub's voice was clear even through all the other distorted ones joining in as he shrieked. “No one can hurt him and live!”

Then Grian felt limp and he wondered for a moment if all the memories coming to his mind was his life flashing before his eyes.

Growing up alone in his room.

Sneaking out all the time and getting in trouble for it.

Going mindlessly through high school with horrible grades.

Somehow getting into university and avoiding everyone, planning to drop out, when Jimmy took him aside and introduced him to all his friends.

Meeting Scar.

Learning that he actually loved engineering. 

Going through his masters and doctorate programs and landing a job at the very university that accepted him when his high school transcript looked like garbage.

Then recently, when he'd had enough of pretending that he wasn't an avian or queer. When he'd picked up some eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, and thrown together an outfit. 

Then everything stopped. 

Sunlight beamed into his eyes and he squinted against it. Was he going into the light?

No. Cub was there. Standing above him with a mortified expression. There were no signs of his vex form to be found. He stood beneath the gazebo with his lab coat and glasses, no fangs or wings in sight. 

Then he ran.

-

Scar had spent over an hour looking for Cub and Cuteguy, and he feared that whatever he was going to find would be remains . Xisuma rode him around the city on his motorcycle, following the map Tek had given him for Cuteguy's patrol route. He tried to call Cub 20 times, but every single call went to voicemail. 

At this point, he was a few minutes away from assuming that Cub was digging a grave, and that's when he spotted him. 

Cuteguy was laying on the ground in the middle of a park. People were staring, taking pictures, and Scar shouted for Xisuma to stop. In an instant, he was running to Cuteguy's side, preparing himself to see a bruised and bloodied body. 

But no. He was just cloudgazing with wide, glassy eyes, as if he was a doll. His jaw was set tight and he didn't even react when Hotguy was beside him except for shifting his eyes in his direction.

“What… What happened?!” He looked over Cuteguy's body to see if there was some sort of injury he'd missed, but there was absolutely nothing. “Did he… did he wipe your memory or something? Do you know where you are?”

Cuteguy nodded, so slight it was almost imperceptible. 

“Can you… can you talk?” He hooked a hand around his partner's shoulder and tried to pull him up, but he didn't budge.

“He just walked away.” Cuteguy murmured, a detached quality to his voice.

Scar was glad, but more so he was puzzled. He'd had to stop Cub from attacking a McDonald's employee for putting pickles on Scar's burger one time. How had Cuteguy gotten away without a scratch?

“Did he say anything?” 

Cuteguy shook his head and sat up.

Xisuma rushed over, having managed to park his motorcycle and join them in the grass. “Is everything alright?”

Cuteguy blinked and narrowed his eyes, seemingly searching for something in his mind. “What powers do vexes have?”

Scar cataloged them in his head. “From what I remember, it's flying through walls, causing hallucinations, making people feel dread and scared, um… Cub read my mind earlier, and like the bat yelling location thing.” 

“Echolocation.” Xisuma corrected.

“He read your mind?!” Cuteguy asked, his face plastered with panic.

“Yeah… that's how he found out about the…” Scar trailed off.

Xisuma cut in. “Woah, what happened that made Cub so mad?”

Cuteguy put his hands on his temples and started rocking back and forth. “If he can read my mind, then…” He stood up and started pacing around. 

Scar stood as well and said softly to Xisuma so that Cuteguy wouldn't hear. “He wasn't very nice to me at the gala and um… Cub is overly protective of me. A scary amount, obviously.”

Xisuma nodded. “Wow… um… okay.” He was silent for a moment before he turned back and whispered. “But I thought I saw you two kiss?”

Scar spluttered and backed away, putting a hand over his flushed face. “No! No, we didn't kiss oh my Gods,” he whisper-yelled.

-

That evening, it was Hotguy's turn to patrol. In some ways it was a relief for Grian to get away from him. They usually patrolled together, but considering the significant decrease in the number of Heroes left, patrols had turned into solo missions. 

So an evening without looking at the gorgeous face that was quite nearly the death of him today was welcome and logistically necessary. 

What was also logistically necessary was training with Bdubs. They'd gone to the giant building Tek had bought out for a while and ran drills. Back and forth, learning how to control his powers, react to scary situations, and what threats he should expect.

Not that the threats recently were within expectations.

After a while, they laid back on the concrete floor and started to eat the take-out that Tek left for them.

“How much training is too much training?” Bdubs asked, out of breath.

Grian laughed. “You're just getting started, buddy.”

Bdubs groaned loudly, the sound of his discontent echoing off the walls. “I want to go home!”

“You can go home,” Grian reminded him.

Bdubs frowned and took a bite of his burger. “Not really.”

“I mean… this isn't your sworn duty, Bdubs.” Grian said. “It's okay to go home if you need to.”

Bdubs shook his head. “You don't understand. My friends… they're all so scared.” He swallowed hard. “I have a chance to help and I'm gonna take it. I can't be a coward about this.”

“You're really brave. I don't know what I would do if I was in your shoes,” Grian admitted.

Truthfully, if he'd ended up in this situation not even two years ago, he would've run. Far, far away from here.

“It's so weird. I mean, figuring out that I'm part of a group of timekeepers? I've hidden it my whole life. I discovered that after…” His face looked haunted, a spirit of something dark looming over his mind.

“The whole thing in the basement…?”

He turned to Cuteguy with hesitancy. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, of course,” Grian reassured.

“The ones that tied me up and tried to… infect me with that weird mushroom thing… It was my roommate and her weird cult.”

Grian's jaw slackened without his control.

“So… they joined a club about a year ago for like… people who wanted to grow mushrooms to eat and stuff.” Bdubs started, motioning with his hands and pantomiming little objects as he went. “They made some really good food, but then… they started staying there a lot more. I was confused because she was acting different.

“I mean, it was subtle for the most part. She'd come home at three in the morning and when I asked them what happened, she just said they were doing moonlight growing or something.” He shrugged his shoulders incredulously. “Sometimes she'd be gone for a day or two and write it off as a work thing. I didn't know anything was seriously wrong until she started wearing these eye amulets.” He spun his finger in a circle over his chest. “On their necklace, on her rings, on her bracelets, earrings, everything. They were purple and glow-y and I think they were cursed because things kept breaking.

“It really creeped me out, but we weren't on great terms so I didn't say anything. She seemed to never sleep anymore.” He heaved out a big sigh. “Then last week, I went to the gala with this guy I'm dating and all his friends, the attack happens, I go home, and find that they're gone. When she came back, she had these lines under her skin.” He tensed his hand and moved his fingers around, like they were writhing to be independent of him. Sentient. “I don't know how long they'd been there, but it was like… roots or something under their skin. 

“I was getting ready to move out because I was seriously scared of them. That's when she dragged me down there!” He covered his mouth with his palm, his eyes distant. “Them and their ‘mushroom club’ strapped me to the gurney and started chanting to some sort of gods… they called them Watchers. When I struggled, they took the weird–” he waved his hand around, searching for the right word. “–fungus and tried to dig it into my skin.”

Bdubs shivered and his usual mannerisms fell to the way side as he covered his arms, true, deep fear creeping into his voice. “They controlled it. Like it was part of them. And now some of Etho's friends are missing. How could I go back there and tell him I couldn't help you guys because I was too scared?”

Grian stared for a moment, shocked. Watchers. Watchers were responsible for this?

Images of his parents flashed before his eyes. The few times they'd paid any attention to him, they were wearing eye amulets, too. As they slowly disappeared from his life, he'd overhear long, drawn out discussions about the Watchers.

He didn't know what exactly it meant, he was only a kid. But he remembered the way his parents spoke about the Watchers. They were saviours if you submitted to them. If you did their bidding, you would be rewarded a thousand times over. You could even become a Watcher. 

He thinks that's what happened to them. He never found out.

Now someone in his life, someone connected to Etho was… “Missing?”

“Yeah. Um, they're two professors that Etho knows and they haven't been responding to anything for days.” Grian had to hold back his jaw from dropping. “Friends went to check on them and they weren't home… I'm so scared that more people are gonna go missing. Etho is so scared and that just makes me want to be stronger but all I really want is to hide. I wish I could just stop time for an eternity so the fungus would just die!”

“Yeah… that's really odd…” He was talking about Grian. And Scar?! Grian didn't know how many other professors Etho could know! Now that he thought about it, no he hadn't been responding to his friends. He saw the messages and left it at that. He was too tired to respond and lie about where he was, but he didn't know they were looking for him. He'd muted his chats.

What about Scar, though? Last thing he'd heard, Scar was staying in his apartment recovering from some sort of flare up. So what could've happened to him? Did he get infected?! No, he'd spoken to Scar just last night. 

What level of sentient were the infected? Could he have been infected and that’s why he wasn’t leaving his home? Would he be able to have a conversation?

Did he… join the Watchers?

His head was spinning by the time Bdubs stood up and sighed. “I guess we should get back to training. Ughhh…”

Grian nodded and did his best to clear his mind. “Yeah. Let’s… um… practice attack scenarios.”

-

Grian was sitting in bed, staring at his phone that night. All he could think about was Scar and the Watchers. He read through the group chat, but he didn’t know whether it was a good idea to text them or not. Maybe it was better for them to think he was missing so he didn’t have to explain so much later. But he needed to know if Scar was okay. He texted him twice. 

Grian: Are you okay?

Grian: Y’know after our call last night. We can call again if you want

He reread his messages over and over again, nitpicking the words he’d chosen, wondering if he sounded condescending.

Scar, on the other hand, was out on patrol and completely unaware of anything happening on his phone. 

He’d been walking for a while and thought it was the perfect opportunity to find a test subject for Zed. There was the parking garage for the Commission on the West side where he could possibly trap an infected, and since it was only a couple miles from the Rancher’s Hotel, it seemed like a good choice.

The West side of the city was being taken over by mycelium, so it wouldn’t be difficult to find someone that was infected. He just needed to make sure he avoided groups.

He stalked the roofs, looking down at the barren street below. It seemed like a pretty clear area, but he felt eyes on him. He kept his head on a pivot, searching for whoever was staring at him.

Finally, he saw them. Someone leaning against the bus stop, cigarette in hand. They looked sick, their skin was greyed and their eyes drooped like they hadn’t slept in days. 

This was his shot. Only a block away from the parking garage.

He slid down a pole and stood across the street from the watching eyes. When they didn’t budge, he took a step forward and brought a hand out. 

“Hello, stranger! Could I show you to a wonderful resort. It’s free 99, I think you’ll like it.” He said in his most charming voice.

The infected person just watched him. No response, not even a blink or a twitch of the lips. Eyes trained on him like a hawk. 

“Follow me, friend-o!” He laughed to shake off the discomfort. 

No reaction or response of any kind. 

“I’m sorry for doing this without your consent, bestie, but I’ll be carrying you to the place you need to go so you can be healed. You might thank me later.”

He leaned down and wrapped an arm around their legs, hauling them up and over his shoulder. 

He took all of two steps before he fell to the ground, dropping the person who'd just sent a blade through the center of his back. He gasped in a ragged breath, fighting his way back to standing, looking back at the neutral face of the infected laying on the ground before him. 

They held a pair of scissors in their hand, dripping with his blood. 

Scar tried to reach behind him to put pressure on his wound, but he couldn't reach it. All he could feel around it was slippery blood.

He swore he saw a smirk cross the infected's face as he turned to rush away.

They thrived off of misery.

Then the ground started to shake a little. It was subtle at first, but as he started climbing the fire escape, breathing hard against the pain, the rumbling became stronger and louder. A thousand tendrils of mycelium started sprouting from the concrete ground and brick walls.

He had no choice but to climb faster.

Back in the hotel room, Grian was broken away from his thought spiral by a knock on the door. Tek was on the other side, bleary eyed. 

“Hey, the others called and said they got a break through in the freeze-ray-whatever-ificatior and I’m going to head over to Cub’s to see it.” He began to turn, but stopped himself. “And by the way, Cub is like… catatonic. I mean, he finally came back, but dang he won’t talk or move very much at all. Did you do something?” He asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Uh… I don’t think so.” Cuteguy shook his head, shrugging.

He knows my identity now. He read my mind and he knows who I am and somehow that was important enough that he didn't kill me. 

“Okay… well, I’ll be on my way. Have the front desk call me if you need anything.” Tek waved and walked off.

Grian went back to the bed, struggling to think anymore after his head had been spinning for hours on end. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been dozing for, but the balcony door opened and closed and he heard robotic legs stalking in. 

Hotguy sat on the armchair and gasped in a breath. Blood pooled on the seat as he slouched so only his shoulders touched the back. 

Grian pushed himself up, separating his face from the pillow. He looked over to see Hotguy there, red and sweaty, looking like he was struggling to breathe. Then he spotted the blood.

He shot up, running to his partner’s side. “Oh my Gods, what happened? Do I need to call a hospital?!”

“Tis but a scratch, Cutie.” Scar laughed half-heartedly as he waved a hand, wincing when he tried to sit up a little higher.

Grian had one look at that face and ran out of the room to get the front desk to call Tango.

A couple minutes later, he came back into the room in a panic, holding all the napkins and water bottles he could gather from the breakfast area of the hotel. “Take your shirt off, I need to bandage you up.” He dropped everything in his hands on the end of the bed and looked around in the bathroom for extra supplies.

“Bit forward,” Hotguy joked, making no action to remove his top.

“Oh Gods, you sound like a friend of mine,” he rolled his eyes and brought a few towels into the main room. “I'm being serious, I can't just let you stay like this.”

Hotguy stuck out his bottom lip, “I thought I was your friend.”

Cuteguy stood with a stern face. “It's not funny right now. You're gushing with blood. Kinda hard to laugh when you look like that. Now get your shirt off.  I need to see the damage to know if we need the sewing kit.”

Hotguy laughed weakly as he sat up. “Don't worry, I can do it myself. A little privacy, please.”

Cuteguy craned his head to get a look behind Hotguy and saw the massive gash, starting right between his shoulder blades, ending halfway down his spine.

“You can't patch that up on your own! It's in the center of your back,” Grian countered, moving to grab Hotguy's shoulders and guide him to the bed.

Scar flinched at Cuteguy's gentle hands reaching for the wings he didn't know about. The wings that were battered beyond repair and scared even Cub. The first part of himself that didn't work and made him feel broken.

Cuteguy pulled his hands back, guilt rushing through his veins. After a moment of hesitation, looking at the top of his partner's downturned head, he lowered himself to his knees in front of him. He gently grabbed Hotguy's gloved hands, dried blood against clean, ungloved hands. 

“Please let me help you. I'm sorry for everything I've said to you to make you feel like I don't care about you, but I do. I care about you a lot.” He ducked his head so Hotguy would look him in the eye. The green eyes, even through the visor, were just as beautiful as they'd been at the gala. “Please, please let me help you. I need you,” Cuteguy's voice broke as he tried to keep his voice neutral while he looked at Hotguy's pained expression. Fear and pain sat too easily on his features. Grian couldn't stand it. “I just need you to be okay. I can't do this without you.” He took a hand back to wipe a tear that threatened to fall.

Scar squeezed his partner's hand and looked away, anxiety squeezing his chest like a vice. “Okay… just… I'll explain once you see it.”

Scar stood and leaned a knee against the armchair to keep himself steady as he unclipped his utility belt and reached to take off his top.

Grian, unable to tear his eyes away, watched as Hotguy peeled off his shirt. 

The scars that had peeked out from beneath the fabric were larger than he could've imagined. Long, wide, arcs of darkened flesh, forming stories that Grian couldn't begin to imagine. 

And when he backed away to let Scar lay on the bed, he saw the ravaged and decayed form of his wings. The veins of his wings were split, like someone had chipped them down piece by piece like broken glass. They were so small, only a foot long at most, clearly never given the opportunity to grow. In this state, covered in warm, sticking blood, it looked like they'd just been destroyed, but he knew that wasn't the case. Surrounding them were several dark, deep scars that dimpled and creased as Scar lowered himself onto his front so Cuteguy could access the damage. 

“I'm so sorry…” he said, unable to come up with any useful words to describe how he felt looking at his partner's beaten form. He laid a towel on each side of him to catch any running blood as he got to work cleaning the area around the giant gash. 

“No, I'm sorry,” Scar responded, face scrunched in pain. “It's morbid to look at… I'm sure it makes your wings feel weird.”

He ran a wet cloth gently over the skin, revealing even more scars below. “A little bit, but I care more about making sure you're not in pain.”

A silence passed between them. It was short, but it felt excruciatingly long. Grian remembered about the first aid kit on Hotguy's utility belt and picked it up, opening it to get rubbing alcohol.

“It's going to sting.” He warned, wincing as he applied the disinfectant, reminding himself exactly why he couldn't be a doctor.

Scar sucked in air through his teeth, pain burrowing in his nerves.

“Where do you keep your potions?” Grian asked quietly, gently moving Hotguy's ponytail to the other side to get it out of his face.

“Drawer,” he said breathlessly, pointing to the dresser.

Cuteguy retrieved them, laying them out on the bed, trying to find out which one would be best for this use case.

“I think… numbing topical?” He said, looking to Hotguy for confirmation. 

“Yeah, around it. Can't get it in an open wound, though.” Scar told him, reaching for his regeneration potion. He turned on his side and downed the bottle, shivering at the burning and freezing feelings flowing through him.

When he'd settled back down, Grian gently covered his back in the numbing cream, eyes glued to the wings he gingerly avoided.

Scar relished in the cool, light feeling as Cuteguy's hands traveled across his skin, taking the pain with it. Still, his chest ached as he envisioned the wings that Cuteguy was looking at. Memories bubbled to the surface and he wanted to say something . He had to, didn't he? “The people… that did this to me… they…”

“They were evil,” Cuteguy responded simply. “I would tear their heads from their necks for this.” 

He poured water on Scar's battered wings to get the blood off and wiped them gently, revealing punctures and tears that weren't visible beneath the red. Though, beneath that, he saw the gorgeous pattern of his wings. Even broken up, he could follow the swirls and spots that made up the more solid parts of his translucent grey wings near the base, where the wings sprouted from his skin.

Scar chuckled lightly, pleasantly surprised by Cuteguy's response. “I would tell you where they were if I knew.”

“You didn't deserve this. No one deserves this… what monster could treat you like this?”

Though the question was rhetorical, Scar couldn't help answering earnestly. “My parents.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for Cuteguy's response. “Your parents?!” His feathers ruffled and he felt the searing bite of hatred course through him. He made sure that Hotguy was looking at him when he spat out, “They deserve to rot in hell, how could you do that to your own child?!” He removed the towels from Scar's sides and helped him to sit up. “I should find out where they live so I can bash their skulls in,” he growled as he cleaned the area around them, putting the towels he'd used earlier on the armchair to soak up the remaining blood.

Scar let out a sad laugh. “I hate them… but it's lessened. It's more of just pity now.” He explained, taking his visor off and using his power to disguise himself instead. “I mean, lashes and tearing my wings when I did anything they didn't like… it was horrible, but it was all I knew. They told me it was because they loved me and they wanted me to be good.” That was easy territory for him. Something he'd thought over a million times. 

But as he looked at Cuteguy shuffling about in front of him, giant wings moving so in sync with his body because they were so clearly a part of him, something he'd always had, something he used all the time… he felt a queasyness come to his stomach. “It's so weird to think that I could fly if it weren't for them.”

Grian looked over at his partner, eyes wide and concerned. Hotguy's eyes were glassy, the red glow illuminating the tears nearly ready to fall.

Scar's lips moved on their own and it all came pouring out like a broken faucet. “I guess that's why I'm so scared of flying. It feels like the future that was ripped from my back. And then I have people always asking me about why I have so many scars and I just say, ‘it's just vex stuff’ and they brush it off, but it's not. It's not at all. Vex markings aren't like this. The only vex thing about it is that the scars heal dark. I…” he couldn't believe that the words were spilling out. 

He hadn't told a soul. He'd never trusted anyone to know this…. not even Cub. He screwed his eyes shut in embarrassment, wiping the tears away. “I don't know why I'm telling you this, I'm sorry.”

Cuteguy shook his head rapidly, rushing to Hotguy's side. He brought a hand to his cheek and encouraged his partner to look at him. “I want you to tell me everything,” Grain reassured. “I'm sorry I didn't take your last confession well. I promise I'll never treat you like that again, and I understand if that's not enough, but I do really want to be there for you.” He tucked a strand of Hotguy's hair behind his ear and smiled sadly at him. “I care about you so much, and…” Oh, how he wished he could forget the other part of him and say I love you. “I want to protect you.”

Scar looked at Cuteguy's lips. Grian saw Hotguy looking at his lips. Their eyes met again and both their hearts beat faster, the air between them felt thinner, their nerves needing more oxygen to process the way they made each other feel.

Knock knock knock!

“Hey, let me in, I've got a healer!” Tek yelled, jangling the door knob in a panic.

Grian flinched his hand away from Scar's cheek and stood. “I'll get the door.”

Scar nodded, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply to put the butterflies in his stomach to rest.

Chapter Text

Cub rushed through the door, past Cuteguy—Grian—standing stupidly in the way, and knelt at Scar’s side. Immediately, he inspected him head to toe, moving him around like a ragdoll as his heart hammered like a stampede. His wound was nearly thirty centimeters across, at an angle of 75 degrees, stretching from the right shoulder blade to his false ribs just left of his spine. His blood was clotting well, but blood loss may have already been dangerous depending on how long the wound was open. Robotic legs indicated damage, and blood spatters and streams showed evidence of severe, fast flowing bleeds. 

His ears perked up as he heard Grian start speaking, the threat-sensors in his body began to scream for him to do something. To eliminate the threat to Scar's security, his well-being.

“I should probably tell you that I was talking to Bdubs earlier today and he was talking about this cult.” He couldn't stand the droning tone of his voice, but he tried to ignore it.” I think we need to start looking into–”

“Get out!” He snapped, fangs forcing their way out despite himself. He could not ignore it.

He couldn’t control this feeling. He couldn’t control this situation and his best friend needed to be helped right now or—

The door to the room closed and the healer made Scar lay down on his stomach, which finally let Cub cradle his head to his chest protectively so that his nerves could settle. Scar put a loose arm around him in return, but it didn’t feel right. 

Is he too weak from the blood loss? Do I need to take him to the hospital to get a blood transfusion? What if this healer doesn’t know what they’re doing and Scar doesn’t get better? I can’t let that happen, I can’t live without him.

He watched the healer like a hawk. The way they placed their hands over the wound and closed their eyes to channel their energy. The way Scar’s hand squeezed at his shirt as he whimpered in pain. The clean scar left on his back to join the others. If he looked away, he’d only be able to tell which one was new by memory.

After hastily exchanging niceties, the healer had finally left the room, and Cub looked at Scar’s face, painted with exhaustion… and power.

“Why are you using your power?” He asked, helping Scar to sit up. “Are you feeling okay? What’s wrong?”

Scar blinked slowly. His voice came out gravely and sore-sounding. “Just… a little dizzy and my head hurts. Trying to get myself back into gear somehow.”

It’s impossible for him to get better if he keeps exhausting himself. He needs to stop. I need to make him stop.

“Can I take you home? You really need rest and I’ll be able to keep an eye on you there, and—”

Scar shook his head gently. “No, I'm sleeping here.” He began unlatching his legs, but he couldn't reach the lower latches.

He won’t admit that he’s struggling. I need to help him, I need to keep him safe. I need to convince him.

“Scar,” Cub whispered, knowing that Grian was probably just outside. He began unlatching all the way down the robotic legs, slipping them off and putting them into a bag he’d bring back to his lab… apartment lab. “You need to listen to the doctors and retire. You're going to be happier and healthier and you'll finally be able to do the research you've been itching to do. I can't watch you kill yourself or deal with Cuteguy and all of this stuff. I—”

“You almost killed him.” Scar whispered back, dejected. “And I'm the one with the problem? I'm the one that has to stop what I'm doing?”

He doesn't understand! How can I make him understand?!

“The way he treated you was disgusting. I would never let anyone do that to you, the only reason I didn't kill him was—”

He held his tongue and closed his eyes in frustration.

He'd decided last night that it was wrong to tell him about Grian being Cuteguy. He would be taking risks at a time so fragile, and it wasn't worth it. He couldn't unleash the level of obsession he was sure would overcome Scar when there were much more important issues at hand.

“What? What made it different? You realized that I'd never forgive you?”

“Yes.” Cub told him. “You would hate me for many reasons.”

“Then why did you even consider killing him in the first place?!” He asked incredulously. “What were you trying to gain? I'm not a child, I can look out for myself. Stop trying to protect me, all you're doing is making it worse.”

Scar looked so tired. The fight he was giving now truly must have been his all, because it seemed that one sharp prick could destroy the thin layer of whatever was keeping him together.

“I couldn't let him hurt you anymore,” Cub defended with a gentler voice, squeezing Scar's hand. “And I wasn't going to kill him. Just… get close enough that he'd learn his lesson…”

“I saw you.” He said, a secret venom dripping just beneath his words that burned Cub's skin when Scar tore his hand away. “You were completely vex in seconds. You would've killed him. He yelled at me, big deal! You would go to prison to protect me from someone being mean to me?” His voice cracked. “You're crazy!”

Cub realized now that he's been on the edge of a breakdown, too, because those words pierced him to the bone.

He stood and began pacing, doing his best to hold in the aggression that boiled inside when he wasn't able to love. “Oh, so I'm a crazy murderer vex, how creative!”

“Cub, I’m vex! Don't try to act like I'm saying all this because you're vex. This is–”

“You didn't grow up vex!” Cub shouted. “Your mom was fae, you wouldn't understand what it means to be in a vex family. I treat you like my family and you treat me like a human.” He saw the look on Scar's face, and guilt rushed in. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I would do anything for you, Scar.”

Scar stared at him for a moment. His wings seemed to flutter mindlessly behind him, the lamp light reflecting off the iridescent surface. It highlighted every tear, every jagged edge, every puncture that would keep him earthbound. “Who do you think did this to me?”

Grief was native to Scar's face like no other emotion was. It knew exactly how to work each plane of his face, where the tears would fall, and knew no surrender.

His smiles were so bright and full of joy because they were tourists unaffected by the storms that raged in his mind.

That realization felt like a heart attack.

Cub shook his head. “That's not what I meant. I wasn't trying to say that you're not a real vex, you are. It's just…” He looked around the room as if the word he was searching for would appear on the wall.

When he failed, Scar finished for him.

“I'm not a real vex.” His eyes turned glassy and he steeled his voice. “I can't fly, I can't bring terror, I can't go through walls or cause hallucinations or read people's minds.” Scar closed his eyes and turned away. “I'm not magical. I'm sick and weak and that's why you have to protect me from everything, right?” 

He sounded so exhausted. Like he'd had this conversation in his mind a million times before and he was hoping it would never happen, but here they were.

Cub sighed with the truth that all the love and care and want in his chest couldn't do a thing here. All he had was the reality that Scar was right about how he'd been treating him. 

Vex were protective at any cost. Their family, their cauldron, their friends, whatever people wanted to call it, they were everything to vex. He didn't know how to be moderate. It was essential that he kept Scar safe.

He'd met him through the Commission, so he never felt the need to protect him from the threats he knew he could handle. But when he got void exposure… he protected him. He made him everything he needed to keep him happy, keep him safe. He took care of him when he was sick, he doted on him to stop neglecting his needs, and he'd helped Scar through panic attacks. 

He'd been growing more and more distant for the past few months, and it felt like Cuteguy was reeling him in just to gut him like a fish. How was he supposed to ignore the signs? The time he came to Cub enamored one day and heart broken the next? 

Cuteguy had called Scar, his Scar, useless. He'd insulted his intelligence, his position, and his mere existence. He warned him what would happen if he ever hurt him again, and he'd been ready to deliver. 

But it was Grian. The one who'd told Scar that he was nothing but a manipulator in front of hundreds of people and gave him a panic attack was the same one who didn't have the backbone to tell Scar he'd liked him for years. 

Pathetic.

But Grian made Scar happy. Scar was always jabbering on about something or other, and Grian would inevitably come up in conversation. 

“He's saying my architectural mind is delusional. I think he's just jealous.” He smiled like the sunrise, recounting the way Grian had beat him in a spaghetti bridge making contest they'd set up for their structural design students. “I made a bouncy bridge, he made a boring bridge!”

Another time, he spoke about how happy he was to be back from summer break, and his main concern was how far away Grian’s office would be. “His office got moved, what if he has to hike to me? I'd have to give him some of my food to make up for the lost calories, and I do not like sharing.”

And near the beginning of Scar's tenure as a Hero, he spoke of him like a kid spoke about their crush. “He's really funny! I wish we could go to the same doctorate program, but he's gotta be ‘logical’,” he said with air quotes. “If you ask me, he would be a great architect.”

And now… Cub was risking losing his best friend. More than best friend. His everything.

A deep part of him didn't care. He'd rather keep Scar safe even if it meant he'd hate him. 

But his logical side was right; he couldn't treat Scar a way he didn't want to be treated. He could protect him more… gently. Assault and battery was much better than (attempted) murder. He could treat Scar's insane social life (how did he get into a love square?!) more like he treated his Hero life. Give him everything he could possibly need to succeed and be there for him if anything went wrong.

It was going to take unprecedented levels of restraint, but if it meant that he could protect his Scar, it was going to have to work. 

“I'm sorry.” Cub said. “I've overstepped your boundaries and… as much as my vex brain is telling me not to, I'll take a big step back. You're not weak. You're stronger than anyone I know, and I've told you that over and over again. I just wish I could make it where you didn't have to be so strong.” He held his arms out a little bit, asking for a hug, but scared to look too desperate for it right now. “I love you.”

Scar slumped forward, falling against Cub's chest with his arms draped limply around him. “I lost all my muscles, now you have to be my strength.”

Cub laughed and pulled Scar closer to him, laying his head on his shoulder. “Gladly.”

“I love you, too, Cubby wubby.” He nuzzled his face into his arm. “My one condition is for you to not kill anyone unless it's life or death.”

Cub groaned. “Finneeeee… if that's what you really, really want.”

-

“Hey, Cutie Pie,” Hotguy called sleepily as Grian walked into the hotel room. Grian simply waved. 

It's just a play on my name. It's just a play on my name. It's just a play on my name!

Grian had decided to take a short flight around the city after he'd finished talking to Tango and the door to the room was still closed with barely-there voices speaking inside. It was highly uncomfortable due to his unpreened wings, so he decided that tonight was the night he was going to finally do something about it. The irritation was too much and he needed them to be fixed now.

He pulled a hanger from the closet and went into the washroom to use the mirror to maybe find the right angle? He turned around and spread his wings, sending the hairdryer crashing to the ground. He startled and turned to look, but the soap and hand towel fell to the floor, too. He bent down to pick them up and hit the light, which was surprisingly hot, making him jump, only to end up on his butt, wings one wrong move away from tearing the shower curtain down, too.

“You okay?” Hotguy asked, concern cut into his voice.

Grian cringed at himself. “Yeah.”

He gingerly brought his wings in, directing them toward the doorway so that he couldn't destroy anything else. He picked up the things he'd pushed off the counter, and got to his feet.

His feathers were still making him itchy and uncomfortable, but what was he supposed to do? Was it worth exposing his identity to Jimmy or Mumbo? It sounded ridiculous, but he'd never been in so much discomfort and he needed someone to help him before he started breaking things.

He put the hanger back on the rack and started pacing around the room, trying to bring his wings forward farther than they usually went, but it just strained his muscles and he still couldn't reach the right feathers. He couldn't risk any more stupid problems right now!

“Birdy?” Hotguy caught his attention gently, voice tired. They made eye contact. “Are you okay?”

He was nuzzled in next to a pillow with his sleep mask resting on his forehead. He was still shirtless… not that Grian was looking at his bare shoulders and collar bones or anything.

He looked so pretty.

“Yeah, just,” he grunted as he felt a feather digging into the wrong spot and it just felt so gross. “These stupid wings! I can't get to the–ugh! I'm going to rip them out!”

Hotguy let out a little chuckle. “C'mere, let me help.” He waved him over and sat up halfway.

Grian, about to lose his mind from how uncomfortable his wings were, immediately came to the bed and laid a wing in Hotguy's lap.

“You see the feathers sticking out, can you pluck them?” He sounded angry as he said it, which wasn't his intention, but it seemed to wake Hotguy up.

“Oh! Um, okay!” 

He began to comb through his feathers and it felt amazing. The feathers that had been bothering him for a month now were finally out, and others were put back into their correct configuration. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes, letting himself soak up the feeling.

Usually it was only family that could do this… or mates. 

Is this what it feels like?

That lack of tension in his back, shoulders and jaw. The way his breathing slowed, as if taking in the smell of flowers and truly savouring it. The butterflies in his stomach from the unrepressable want. 

He began to question if he'd ever felt true desire and love.

 How could I know? This makes no logical sense—I don't know him! He can't know me! So why do I feel like this?

As if on cue, Hotguy had to do one of the things that made Grian's stomach flip.

“Your feathers are so pretty, Cutie.” Hotguy said in that absolutely adorable sleepy voice he had. It melted like sugar on his tongue, and he sounded so in love. “Why did you put some in my hair last night?” He could hear the playful smile in his voice.

Grian was so glad that he was faced away so that Hotguy couldn't see how flustered he was.

The truth was that he was very nervous last night thinking about the same things that had been on his mind for a while. He felt so bad about how he'd treated Hotguy and he was just staring at his sleeping form for longer than he'd ever admit. With that stupid cowboy eye mask, and his hair somehow staying nearly perfect, and the corners of his mouth looking mesmerizing in some odd way. 

To satisfy his bird brain, he did what many avians would do in this situation: make him even more beautiful. 

To say that Hotguy was gorgeous would be an understatement. With the feathers in his hair and the light streaming in just right, his warmth keeping Grian comfortable even from a distance under the covers… it was intoxicating. Hotguy was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, and he wanted to make a nest, decorate him, and cuddle forever.

But he was Cuteguy right now! Cuteguy did not do stupid things like that.

“What do they mean? Is it like… courting or murder?” Hotguy asked with a loud adorable yawn.

Grian couldn't speak. Hotguy's hands were so gentle as he combed over his wings and his voice was so cute and deep with sleepiness and Grian just couldn't force any words out of his mouth!

He just laughed awkwardly. Was that enough of an answer?

“Well… either way, they made me feel very pretty.”

YES! That's exactly what Grian wanted! He wanted to make sure he knew he was appreciated and cared for and that he was so beautiful and—

No! I need to get a grip! He is not worth the pain that will result from this or losing my identity.

. . .

But really, what identity was left? In all honesty, he felt like the line between Grian and Cuteguy was getting very, very blurry. 

At this point, Hotguy knew a lot about him. More than a lot of friends knew. Would it be that bad if Hotguy could know him the way Grian wanted yet feared to be known?

It had been years and years since he started liking Scar romantically and he'd been too much of a coward to get anywhere with it. 

Cuteguy wasn't a coward. And this was a safe bet because he knew for sure that Hotguy liked him…

What was there to lose?

Hotguy plucked a feather that wasn't quite ready and Grian jumped in pain with a loud chirp.

“Oh no! I'm so sorry, Birdy! Are you okay?”

His hand was on Grian's lower back, the other over his wing. He leaned forward to try to get a look at Grian's face. There, in their hotel room, with the dim, warm light of the lamp, and the warmth of Hotguy behind him… the pain disappeared like a ripple in water… he felt so safe and cared for and…

Before he knew it, his eyes were closed and the back of his head was resting against Hotguy's bare chest. His face was probably bright red, but he just so desperately needed that feeling of warmth, safety, and security that came with his partner's touch. 

Hotguy's hands retreated, and Grian chittered sadly. 

“Um… what's happening?” Hotguy asked, his voice wavering.

Grian couldn't respond. His bird brain had completely taken over and now he was nuzzling his face into Hotguy's neck and coos were coming from his throat. He felt so warm and safe, and he wanted to make a nest. He needed to make a nest.

“Please talk to me, Cutie Pie. You're being very sweet, and that's not very normal for you…” He said as he very, very gently put a hand on his waist and pushed him away just a little bit. 

Grian wasn't broken from his trance. His bird brain simply took that as the cue to start gathering materials. He mindlessly started gathering the blanket in a semicircle around them and arranging the pillows to fill out the other side. It wasn't enough though, so he went to the closet and started pulling out the extra sheets and pillows and built up the nest. It just wasn't cozy enough yet…

He saw the bathrobes and chirped with joy. Yes, this would be perfect.

He took them both from the closet and brought one to wrap around Hotguy.

“Well, um… okay. Can I get just a little explanation, hun?” His wide curious eyes looked into Grian's and a surge of adoration flowed through him. “Are you okay?”

Grian chirped in approval and quickly climbed into the nest beside him, nuzzling his face against the soft fluff of the bathrobe covering Hotguy now. He wrapped his arms around Hotguy's middle and fell back to relax in the new nest. Perfect nest. 

“Is this what you want, Cutie?”

Grian nodded against his partner's neck with a satisfied coo.

“Okay.” He circled his arms around Grian's waist and started stroking his feathers again. He laid his chin on top of his partner's head and spoke softly. “You know… I've wanted to cuddle with you for a while… it's better than I imagined. And your wings are so, so soft. You really are like heaven to touch.”

Grian smiled softly into the fluffy material and blushed as he hid his face. He brought a wing around to cover them both like another blanket, earning a gentle hum of approval from Hotguy. The warmth and protection was so comforting, perfect for the sleep he'd been missing out on over the last several weeks. He didn't think he'd ever felt more safe and sound in his life.

And he could keep his wounded mate safe in turn, keep him hidden from the monsters. He'd make sure from now on that Hotguy would never leave the nest and Grian would fight for him. Keep him safe as Hotguy had done for him all those times.

-

The void was freezing. 

Scar felt like he was falling through time and space, wind whipping past his ears as he watched the moments leading to the fall.

He was undercover, Xisuma watching out for him. He was talking to a man, dressed punk with liberty spikes, torn sleeves, and a smug face. 

“So, Skizz, I heard you got a run-in with the police, is that right?” He leaned against the brick wall, crossing his arms. 

He was dressed in black, hair slicked back and glossy. This project had been going on for weeks, and he was finally going to get the information he needed to put this guy in prison.

“Who told you that?” Skizz furrowed his brows judgementally. 

Scar shrugged dramatically, "Y'know, word gets around. No one could tell me what really happened, though.”

“Yeah.” Skizz snapped. “Because it's none of your business, twinkle toes.” His stature became bigger, and he looked ready to start a fight, but that didn't scare Hotguy.

Scar's face turned to stone. “Tell me.” He said simply, activating his power. 

He could feel the resistance through the psychic link. The way he tried to keep his mouth closed but his lips moved without his consent. 

“I nearly got arrested because I–” 

He pounced. In a moment, he was on top of Hotguy, throwing punches and slamming so far forward that they both fell to the ground. 

“You freak! What kind of power is that?!” He pushed Hotguy's face into the concrete with his elbow and caught his breath. “Your mom must have hated you! With a power like that, you'd get everything you want. No wonder a spoiled brat became a cop!”

At that, Scar's blood boiled. He slammed his elbow back and dug into Skizz’ ribcage, throwing him off. He lost his strength for a moment and backed away, and Scar was able to reverse their positions, holding Skizz down with one hand.

“Oh, you want to play it that way, huh?” He pushed Skizz so that he was face down on the ground of the alley, breathing in the dirt and grime. “Why don't you bang your head against the ground?” He spat.

Skizz did just that. He yowled in pain, blood quickly surfacing as the rough concrete scratched through the skin of his forehead. “Oh, daddy hated you too, didn't he!? That's where you got all the Scars? Daddy hurt you so now you're a pig?!”

He grit his teeth and pushed Skizz’ face flatter against the ground, letting the skin scrape. “Tell me your crimes!” He barked, activating his power yet again. 

Skizz huffed a few breaths before he started talking again without his permission. “I was just doing what the Watchers told me to do! And—” 

Skizz gasped, his body twisting and contorting in strange ways, and he gained strength in a matter of seconds, overpowering Hotguy and getting to his feet. All of a sudden, he no longer looked human. His eyes opened to reveal black, endless irises. Then more eyes opened. They multiplied across his face and began to glow purple as he leaned down and shrieked in Scar's face, leaving his ears ringing in pain.

“Get away!” He demanded, fear flowing through his words. Yet, no matter how many times he repeated it, his power wasn't working. The man turned monster just cackled, following him as he tried his best to get to his feet.

He needed to get away from the creature above him, but all he felt was the hot, scorching breath of the beast. The world was starting to spin, and his skin was slick with sweat as he tried to run, finding himself stuck in the grip of the monster. “Xisuma, open the void! It's a demon!”

He hadn't even realized that he didn't deactivate his power. He demanded that of Xisuma. 

The ground came out from under them both. He held his arms out to catch something, keep him from falling into an endless abyss of black.

He just barely caught a drain pipe bolted to the wall. He could feel it rattling, squeaking signaling its failure. Skizz caught him by the leg and laughed in a million droning tones. Scar screamed. 

With the next part, it was blurry what happened exactly. No matter how many times he thought of it, this part never got any clearer. 

He heard whispering. His eyes went dark. He felt. He felt and felt and felt, but nothing was defined. Like water the exact temperature of his body was lapping against his skin. There were only glimpses of light, touches that felt loud rather than intense, smells that tasted like blood. 

Then he woke up in the hospital.

Xisuma was there with Cub, speaking quietly as they still thought Scar wasn't awake.

“He's gotten void exposure, and there's no telling how it's going to affect him.” Cub told him, reporting what he'd heard from the doctor.

Xisuma's voice was so weak. “It's all my fault…”

“No.” Cub stated plainly. “It's not your fault. We both know he can get a little over-zealous with manipulation. He wasn't thinking, that's not your fault.”

“I should have stepped in earlier!” Xisuma responded. “If I had just stopped him when he started—”

Cub sighed. “You can't take the blame for this. Let it go. Talk to False once you're feeling better again and we'll get everything sorted out, alright?”

“What if he doesn't make it?”

Cub looked over to Scar and they locked eyes. He smiled and directed Xisuma's attention his way. “He's just fine.”

-

Scar woke up in a haze. He wasn't sure where he was anymore because all he could feel was the pounding in his head, the feathers under his palm, and the heat.

He instinctively moved away from the heat source, but he was still burning. He had to get whatever was on him off. He wiggled and pushed at the material, but he couldn't figure out what was around him. Eventually, he was writhing as he huffed in frustration and pain.

A hand touched his. “Calm down, it's okay,” a gentle voice whispered, a sound like the wind caressing the leaves as it rushed by.

Within a few moments, the fluffy material was off his skin and all that was left was cold air nipping at his feverish skin. He wanted it to stop, but he couldn't imagine getting up or opening his eyes when his head felt like this.

Thankfully, in less than a moment there was a hand on his forehead… then the gentlest kiss. He felt the lingering softness, then heard the quiet smack of lips against his skin, barely registered beneath all the pain.

Then a few moments later there were pills being placed in his hand and the other was being coaxed into holding a cup of water.

He didn't have the energy to question, so he took the pills and laid back down onto his side. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering against the cold air.

A sheet was laid down over him, shielding him from the airflow. He curled up and winced as his thighs ached so deeply, it felt like the bones themselves were resisting his movement.

The gentle voice spoke again, the breath ghosting over him, his hair tickling his forehead. “Go back to sleep, okay?” The hand wiped sweat from Scar's brow and tears from his cheeks, skin softer than anything he'd felt before. He could feel his pulse pounding in time with the waves of pain, but the pain didn't seem to reach where the hand touched, as if by magic. 

Misery wasn't a word Scar used lightly. It was misery when the hand moved away.

He reached out, arms searching uncoordinatedly for the body to which the angelic hands belonged. “Come back…” he slurred out.

A hand caught his and stroked gently across his knuckles. “You need sleep, I'm going to let you sleep.”

Scar reached up the arm and met the shoulder and finally the back of the avian taking care of him. He felt the down feathers between his finger tips, tracing through them delicately. “I just need you.”

-

All of Grian's nerves triggered at once. Hair standing on end at those words. Words Hotguy had spoken before. Words that cut into his soul like a steak knife to the chest, leaving him unable to breathe.

The idea that someone, especially someone like Hotguy, could need him felt surreal. Who would need, let alone want, him? He was an obnoxious asshole who hardly knew who he truly was beneath all the walls he'd put up. He wanted to push Hotguy away, as he always did, for his own good… but he was enamored… and that often led to bad decisions.

He kissed his head. Not under the guise anymore that he was checking his temperature, but because all he wanted to do was kiss Hotguy in some way. He leaned into his touch, relishing in the delicacy of his hand along his back and his face finding its place against Grian's chest.

In the dim light, he looked ethereal, even with the stupid cowboy sleep mask on. Grian's chest ached with how fondly he felt for him. He needed to cherish this moment while he had it, but he was dreading the end and having to go back to how it ought to be. They shouldn't be like this, but he didn't have the heart to tear himself away. How could he look at his partner, sick and pleading, and leave him alone?

Hotguy mumbled something into his clothes and Grian hummed in confusion. “I couldn't hear you. What did you say?”

The words flowed like honey, slow and sweet. 

“I love you.”

“I love you! Your cooking is magnificent!” Scar exclaimed before he took a big bite of pasta.

Grian was a goner.

Why did he have to say it while he was half-asleep, sick, and cuddled against him?! If it had been anyone else, he'd assume it was a manipulation tactic because no one would just say I love you out of nowhere! That was except for Hotguy and Scar. The two people with whom he had to admit he was truly in love with.

The two he was truly in love with because of that type of authenticity. Their frankness was unbelievable at first, something most people shed after childhood, something socially beat out of them to survive. But Scar and Hotguy were so true with their thoughts and feelings. 

Maybe that was why Grian never confessed to Scar… he figured Scar would have told him if he liked him romantically. It didn't happen for the decade they'd known each other, so why should he assume it would happen now…

Grian couldn't open his mouth. He couldn't do it, otherwise he'd confess his love and in turn spill his guts about his identity, ruining the whole point of a secret identity for a secret job! 

If he didn't say it out loud, it didn't count… right?

He just wound his arms tighter around Hotguy and breathed in his scent, heart racing faster than a hummingbird's. He kissed his head yet again before he settled in to try to sleep.

How he longed to fall back into the deep chasm of sleep where plights of love weren't so painful.