Work Text:
Something splashes in the dropdown water entrance. Wemmbu automatically drops the whetstone he’s holding onto the table, shooting up.
Egg stumbles forward, absolutely sopping wet. Not landed on a splashpad wet, but like he fell into a lake. On their new floor, too. Wemmbu steps forward to help him.
“Yo, what happened?” Wemmbu asks, grabbing Egg’s side, instinctively checking for wounds. He feels a little better just by holding Egg. “Why are you so wet, dude?”
“Brother it’s raining,” Egg huffs, fluffing his wings out and effectively getting water droplets all over the place. Wemmbu does a double take– not because of the water hitting him, but because why would Egg stay out?
“And you– dude, why would you not come inside– oh my god, you’re gonna be soggy for days.” Wemmbu complains, and uses a hand to lift one of Egg’s wings. Oughhh, there’s water under the feathers. It may take decades to dry. “Brother, what manner of rainstorm could this have been??”
“It was windy,” Egg laments, leaning forward like he’s failing to stop himself from falling into Wemmbu. This guy.
“Why would you not ju– okay. Yeah, alright, sure.” Wemmbu sighs, and tries to assess the situation, letting go of Egg’s wing. Egg is slowly swaying forward and back. “Okay. Is there like– can we make you not soggy? I don’t want my egg to grow mold dude.”
“Why are we saying I’m yours,” Egg immediately shuts down. Wemmbu lets out a laugh. “But uh– you know that preening thing I told you about? We can do that.”
“That was the like, sorting feathers thing, right?” Wemmbu asks, which Egg nods at. “Alright. What do we need for that?”
“Uh,” Egg blinks, and moves forward, flicking his wings again. Wemmbu narrows his eyes at them. Water everywhere, dude. “Probably a towel or two. Or three?”
“Okay,” Wemmbu nods, and untangles them. Egg hums. “You go sit down over there, I’ll go get towels.”
“Yes sir,” Egg salutes lazily, and settles on the ground where their couch will eventually go. Once they make one. Getting a new base set up always takes a minute.
Wemmbu realizes almost immediately that they don’t have towels. They have black carpets, though, so he grabs a few of those from one of their junk chests.
He sits down behind Egg, and kinda strews the carpets around, under Egg’s wings.
“Why’ve you never done this before, dude?” Wemmbu asks, scooting over to Egg’s left wing. This is as far as he knows. He’s– he’s seen Egg preen before– but uh. He didn’t really pay a lot of attention to the precise movements.
“Nah, it’s just too much work, dude,” Egg shakes his head, and his wings twitch again. “Cause it honestly doesn’t bother me a lot.”
“Wait. But it bothers you?” Wemmbu questions, holding a hand just behind the wing. He’s getting a little nervous, lowkey.
“A little,” Egg shrugs, jostling his wings. Wemmbu pulls back.
“Brother, you have to be a bot,” Wemmbu groans, and puts his hand over Egg’s feathers. Egg jumps, and Wemmbu yanks his hand away. “Oops, my bad, my bad, my bad. My fault.”
“Chill,” Egg says, wings resettling. The feathers rearrange themselves in a pattern that hurts Wemmbu’s brain. They have the iridescence of an oil spill. “Jumpscare, dude.”
“My bad,” Wemmbu laughs, and then reaches forward again. Egg just slightly tenses this time, before relaxing. “… so like. How do I actually do this?”
“Oh,” Egg starts, like he didn’t realize Wemmbu was going in blind. “It’s– uh. You like, just untangle them. It’s brushing hair, but for avians. And you gotta dry them.”
“Alright,” Wemmbu nods, locking in to run a hand through the feathers on the bottom of Egg’s wing. It makes a shudder motion, then settles. Wemmbu glances up to see if he did something wrong, but Egg hasn’t reacted. W.
Running his hands through feathers is a surprisingly calming activity. And– well. Well. It’s always nice when he and Egg can relax. And it’s a little interesting, to feel the tremors underneath the feathers. It’s something that he never really feels, just sees. It’s just a repetitive process. Very much like brushing hair.
After a few strokes, raking his hands through, a feather sticks with his hand. He stares at it, blinking.
“Uh,” He says, and Egg wakes up a little, sits a little straighter.
“Wh–? Yo, why’d you stop dude?” He asks, turning slightly. Wemmbu shows him the feather. “That’s chill. It’s like hair.”
Egg faces forward again, so Wemmbu continues carting through feathers. Egg slumps down a little. It’s just– okay. Whatever. It’s just a little nice that Egg’s relaxing. That Egg’s safe.
Wemmbu shakes wet feathers off of his hand, and uses one of the carpets to dry the area he just combed through. Egg shivers when he presses the feathers upwards, and Wemmbu pulls back.
“You’re fine,” Egg hums. “They just– don’t do that a lot. Gotta be gentle. W job so far.”
Wemmbu resumes his job, getting into a rhythm.
It’s nice that Egg’s letting Wemmbu take care of him, because god, sometimes it feels like all Egg does is take care of Wemmbu. Even if– first of all, Wemmbu wouldn’t wish that job on anyone. He’s reckless and impulsive and mean and prickly and a million other bad things, a million things that mean dangerous, a million reasons to not deserve care. There’s a point to be made about not deserving care but getting it anyway. Whatever. Whatever.
But, even if Egg likes doing it, it isn’t fair. Because Wemmbu never really gives anything back. It feels a little evil to just take take take what Egg gives him, but it is something he’s being given.
Whatever. Wemmbu’s not a good person. Egg knows that. Egg isn’t a good person either. They’ve done a lot of bad stuff, together and separate. They aren’t good, so maybe he and Egg don’t have to have a perfectly equal relationship.
He lifts the carpet to dry Egg’s feathers, and realizes Egg hasn’t moved in a minute. Oh. Did he fall asleep? Is this a new Egg hack, pet his wings and he falls asleep?
Wemmbu continues the pattern of brushing through the bottom feathers and working his way up to untangle them, removing loose feathers as he goes. Giving the feathers all a shake through, then drying them. Brush, shake, dry, brush, shake, dry.
Once he reaches the area where Egg’s wings meet his body, and the feathers get very small, Egg makes a high pitched hum. Wemmbu pauses.
“…you good?” He asks, ready to draw his hands away. There’s a stillness, just Egg breathing.
“Mm. I didn’t– did not expect that.” Egg says, sounding slightly out of it. Wemmbu immediately backs up. Egg just needs space sometimes, that’s fine. “N– it’s chill.”
Wemmbu hesitates. Egg leans back, pressing his wings against Wemmbu. Wemmbu huffs a breath, and pushes him back forward.
“Alright, okay, god,” He almost-laughs, and puts his hands back on Egg’s wings. Egg sighs– but not like– not anger. Maybe just relaxation? “You sure you’re good?”
“Mhm,” Egg hums, so Wemmbu slowly starts back up, gently threading through the small feathers. Egg just slumps down further and further.
God. He couldn’t be caught dead saying this out loud, but. It’s– endearing. It’s just endearing. The way Egg is leaning into him, the way Wemmbu’s holding up most of Egg’s weight, the soft feeling of feathers, even though they’re soggy. It’s all just… nice. They deserve nice.
Wemmbu eventually finishes with both the left and the right sides of the inner feathers. He stretches and puts his hand on Egg’s wing to manually stretch it out. Egg sits up a little straighter, then slumps again in seconds. Wemmbu huffs a quiet laugh.
He lets Egg’s wing down, and wipes his hands off on the black carpets. There’s white feathers all over them. Wemmbu runs his (now dry) hands through Egg’s feathers on his left wing, searching for any that are misaligned or otherwise stuck. He finds a few easy fixes. Egg just relaxes further and further onto Wemmbu.
“I’m not your pillow,” Wemmbu informs Egg, moving him forward. Egg makes a huffy noise. “Your other wing is still dripping all over the new floors.”
“Oh, you’re lowkey right,” Egg says, voice a little tired. A smile forces its way onto Wemmbu’s face. He gets up, and moves to Egg’s right wing, starting the same process. Brush through, shake down, dry off. Just with a mirrored canvas.
-
“Alright,” Wemmbu says, brushing his hands off of any wetness or feathers. “Lemme double check we’re chilling, then we can go to bed.”
Egg hums agreement.
Once his hands are dry, Wemmbu does a final shakeover of both wings, just to make sure things aren’t wet or tangled. And it seems good.
“We’re chilling,” Wemmbu smiles to himself, then leans back. Egg leans with him. “We should lowkey sleep.”
“Hm,” Egg ponders.
“Yo. I know you’re tired.” Wemmbu laughs, and starts to get up. Egg makes a sad noise. Wemmbu immediately wraps his arms around Egg, worried. Egg never makes– has never– he just doesn’t–
“Brother,” Wemmbu complains, trying to keep his voice steady. Egg turns, eyes wide, curious. Wemmbu almost dies on the spot. Heart attack. “Just– c’mon, dude. Our room has beds, and way nicer blankets.”
“Mm,” Egg nods wisely, and leans forward. Wemmbu takes the opportunity to drag himself out of the vacuum seal they’d gotten into. Somehow.
“Alright, come on,” Wemmbu brushes off his legs, and pulls Egg up by the arms. Egg immediately stumbles into him, wings flaring out to compensate for his instability. They flare out too much, though, and Wemmbu yanks Egg back. “Dude, lock in for genuinely one second.”
“I’m so locked in,” Egg tells him, leaning on him more than he realistically needs to. Hey, Wemmbu isn’t complaining. He likes being near Egg, and Egg being near him. Maybe he just likes Egg.
“Let’s go to bed,” Wemmbu says, voice softer than he means it to be. Cringe. Humiliating.
“Okay,” Egg agrees easily. Wemmbu puts an arm around his shoulder and guides him to their room, and onto the bed. Egg collapses down, not even bothering to pull the sheets back.
“Bro is the sleep monster,” Wemmbu comments, not an ounce of venom behind the bite. Egg laughs into the pillow, and Wemmbu’s chest feels a lot lighter. He crawls onto the bed too, but actually pulls back the sheets. “Move.”
Egg rolls over without any words, letting Wemmbu lift the blankets over them. Wemmbu makes sure to brush his feathers down, in case the blanket pushed them the wrong way.
Once the blanket is over both of them, Wemmbu shimmies closer to Egg, and puts himself under a wing. Egg presses closer, and puts one arm over Wemmbu, under the wing. His other arm finds Wemmbu’s, and links them.
“G’night,” Egg says, limbs loosening. His hold doesn’t.
“Night, dude,” Wemmbu returns, and brings their linked arms to rest in the space between their breaths.
Egg’s wings would usually still be soaking. A little ball of pride starts in Wemmbu’s chest. He’s good at helping. More importantly actually– he’s good at helping Egg.