Archive of Our Own ^beta

The chase had been relatively normal, as far as he could tell. Acting as a government enforced super-hero against the terrors of the underground mutant society hadn’t exactly been an option for Scar. He’d jumped into the program at the ripe young age of fifteen hearing nothing but the opportunity of a free education, a warm place to sleep, incredible pay, and the chance to run along rooftops. Honestly? Scar would’ve taken being able to run in any shape or form at that point. Of course, nearly twenty years on the job, and living life, had helped him feel more settled when it came to his disability. To the point where he sometimes felt a sting of irritation as he strapped on the semi-robotic leg bracers, intent on headed into the city to do his job.

But he did it.

Now, that’s not to say I’ve gone the ‘angsty washed up hero’ route.

Scar considered.

Because at this very moment, he was doing a double backflip off a four story building, his vision uninterrupted thanks to the aid of his high tech visor. A short wolfs tail of dark brown hair fluttered against the nape of his neck. He grinned. “Bulls eye, Hot Guy!” He shouted as he loosed his arrow.

This is awesome!

Some small part of him would always be a teenager, staring into the clouds watching silhouette of heroes dart across the sky.

The strange green creatures that’d emerged from the depths this time around were relentless. They made terrifying hissing sounds, and their mouths seemed to open on a hinge either side.

Scar landed his shot directly to the creatures face, square between it’s beady little black eyes. He completed another twirl and hit the ground. The sting of the impact vibrated up his spine.

Gah, not as young as I used to be!

He bit back a groan, concealing it behind another broad smile as he waved to a group of reporters who’d swarmed the scene. At the moment the two he tended to see most often, a man with blue hair and red poppy earrings and a woman in a red hoodie, were practically at each others throats trying to get a clearer shot for their camera man.

“Hey, friends! Just a heads up, might wanna clear the area till I’m done!”

“I’ll go if she goes!” The man shouted.

“No, I’ll go if he goes!” The woman replied.

Scar sighed through his noses. Ok, add that to the list of things to pay attention too…

He was well-used to it though. He was the old guard of the city by this point, and no matter what oddball creature emerged from the depths, the under-city where mutants and strange hybrids lived and threatened the city, he’d take care of things.

That’d been how it always was.

Or well, up till a few months ago.

“Need some help, Pretty Boy?”

He’d been expecting the voice to show up at some point, and he tried to hide how eagerly he jerked his vision back and forth trying to spot the offender.

“It’s Hot Guy!” He shouted back, stomping a foot childishly.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Scar looked up to the building he’d just flipped off of, and there he was.

He’d never given any sort of name to reporters, so he’d somehow picked up the nickname of ‘Cute Guy’.

Mercy on whoever tried to call him that to his face. But even the news outlets had started using the name at this point.

His costume was nearly as risqué as Scar’s, and his had a boob window.

The avian had a massive set of black and pink wings emerging from his back, which meant his black, skin tight costume top was backless, leaving shoulders all the way down to his lower back completely exposed. Pink shorts laced with black ribbon the sides, and black thigh-highs with pink garters matched with pink heeled boots. He also had arm length black fingerless gloves, the wrists and hands of which seemed to shift and pulse with color and energy. The upper half of his face was partly concealed by another set of four tiny wings that sprouted either side of his head, and by a dark shadowy substance that wasn’t face paint, Scar didn’t think so anyway. It was odd, like shifting energy. His eyes still barely peered through the dark, seeming the glow purple.

Scar had to remind himself to swallow when he saw the avian raise one of his pink pistols and point it at him. He pulled the trigger. A bolt of purple light rushed an inch by Scar’s head, close enough he felt it brush by his hair.

He heard the impact behind him and snapped his head to look back. There was one of those weird green things lying there, dead.

He looked back up, and Cute Guy tilted his head to one side. A teasing smile ran along his lips. “Don’t make me watch your back, hero.” He called.

Scar vaguely reminded himself that there were reporters watching this exchange. The two of them had stopped fighting and screaming at each other in order to properly pay attention to the words.

So he puffed up his chest and raised his bow, pointing with the hand that held it. “I appreciate the assist, but you shouldn’t be out here!”

Scar didn’t exactly like the law that hybrids and mutants weren’t allowed in the over-city, but he was an employee of the state. One that ran around in a crop top and booty shorts fighting monsters, but even still.

“Aw, you gonna play do-gooder in front of the camera? That’s no fun!” Cute Guy planted his chin against the back of his hand, still holding his pistol.

“Well, you can try and arrest me later, hm? We’ve got bigger things to deal with.” He nodded behind Scar, and the archer turned to see multiple other weird green things (he really needed to figure out a name for these things) emerging from the building. There was some sort of rupture between the under-city and over-city in there, which he assumed was where these things were coming from. The mutants and hybrids who lived their seperate lives down there just seemed to enjoy causing mayhem, and would often let loose various monsters or other macabre creations to the detriment of the citizenry above. That was where heroes like Hot Guy came in.

“I’ve got it, birdie! You go fly home before you get in trouble!” Scar called back over his shoulder. Now that he’d given his required warning of the day whenever he ran into the avian, he’d leave things be. By now they’d established an uneasy trust between them. In fact, Scar found him rather fascinating. He’d never met a mutant or hybrid beyond the monsters that emerged from the depths, and he wanted to at least hope that those who lived down there weren’t as mindlessly aggressive. Cute Guy seemed to prove that point. He dropped gracefully from the edge of the building and wheeled over the street, pistols drawn. He was nearly as good a shot as Scar was, and his pistols seemed to run on the same energy that covered his face. Whenever he fired, his purple eyes would flash, and whenever he fought, his expression was dangerous and lidded.

Scar shouldn’t have found someone attractive, terrifying, and adorable all at the same time, but that’s what happened with this man who’d rather forcibly wedged himself into the hero scene.

Or well, vigilante scene.

Which again left Scar with a sour taste in his mouth, even as he drew and knocked three more arrows. His visor was chiming off lightly behind his ear, notifying him of advancing targets. All of his shots hit clean.

Cute Guy, or whatever he called himself considering it definitely wasn’t Cute Guy, was good. Very good. To be as sharp a shot as Scar with the added benefit of flight? Not to mention he could control the effects of his energy blasts, from stun, to sting, to maim, to instant death.

Scar had seen all of them in action.

Yet he was a hybrid. Or a mutant? Scar wasn’t actually sure what the difference was, which might’ve been insensitive, but he had no clue.

Which meant he wasn’t even allowed to be here right now, and by the laws of the city Scar served. Scar knew he’d have to make a pitiful attempt at arresting him once this fight was over, but he’d always let him get away.

It totally wasn’t that he couldn’t catch him.

Of course not.

He was the best super-hero this city had ever seen!

Anyway.

The fight was a containment exercise, trying to keep the green monsters from getting out of the building and into the city at large.

“Keep your distance!” Cute Guy shouted down at him as Scar heard the hissing again. He bent his knees, the hum of robotic circuitry shuddered against his legs. A phantom ache crept along them, but they hadn’t been strong enough to fully support him in a long time. By the help of a cane or, more effectively, his robotic leg braces masquerading as thigh high boots, he could stay upright. However, the leg braces were painfully uncomfortable, having to dig in tightly to keep him moving.

Of course, Scar never showed it. He was the hero of the city, always there with a witty joke or a cheerful smile and wave.

That’s how he got his job done better than anymore.

He launched himself backward away from the monsters, clearing himself some more space. Don’t ask him why he trusted immediately in Cute Guy’s advice and did as he said, he couldn’t have told you.

The battle continued, till finally it seemed like it was all over. Thankfully the reporters had seen the scene getting truly dangerous and bailed. Scar was sure they were hiding around the corner, planning on how to outmaneuver each other to get to each of them first for an interview.

Scar turned his back to the building where all the monsters had been emerging and looked up, raising his free hand to shade his eyes from the sun.

The avian above him spiraled down, swinging his legs forward as he gracefully landed, jogging a few steps to slow his momentum. His heels clicked on the pavement, and Scar grinned at him.

“Good work, fella.”

“You too, old guy.”

Scar puffed his cheeks. “Aw, I liked Pretty Boy better than that.”

“Did you now? I’ll keep that in mind.” He took a couple striding steps forward, tucking his enormous wings behind his back with a sharp flick.

“So…is this the part where we pretend to fight again?” He held up his pistols with loose wrists, as if they were suddenly to heavy for him.

Scar made an exaggerated hum of thought, before he shrugged. Raising his bow to the side, he clicked the button near the top and retracted it, then clipped it into it’s harness on his back.

“No ones watching, so we can just say you flew away before I got a good shot at ya. Just this once.” He put a finger up to his lips.

His accidental partner tilted his head to the side, the wings on his temples flexed out like they were surprised. Scar hadn’t gotten to have many face to face conversations with Cute Guy where he could focus on his face instead of dodging his energy bolts. He found the wings quite expressive. Almost like they made up for how half of Cute Guy’s face was mostly concealed with dark shadowy energy

Finally, the avian spun his pistols off his thumbs and thrust him into the holsters on his hips. “Fair enough.” He put a hand up to his chin. Long, delicate fingers played a moment along his lips.Then, he planted his hands on his hips and leaned back, wings pulling in closer.

“So…guess I’ll head out then.” He jutted a thumb to the sky.

Scar hesitated, before he raised his hand and thumbed at the side of his visor. His vision calmed, not as sharpened and enhanced. It made it easier for him to think.

“Before you go, um…look, I think what you’re doing is…”

“Stupid? Reckless? Pointless?” Cute Guy interrupted him to count off the reasons on his fingers.

“…admirable.” Scar finished.

Cute Guy’s eyes widened, the purple glow in them sparking. He slowly lowered his arms to his side, then suddenly turned his gaze up and away to avoid Scar’s face.

“Oh. You think so? Nice. That’s nice. Thanks.”

Scar felt weary. “It’s just…they’re gonna catch you one day.”

“No they won’t. I’m careful enough.” He got a shrug and a petulant pout.

Scar sighed. “That’s not…I get you’re trying to make a name for yourself, do the right thing, it’s amazing, but…”

Cute Guy scoffed, then turned his eyes back onto Scar with a throughly disappointed expression. “…make a name for myself? Do the right thing? Is that why you think I’m flying around out here in broad daylight dressed like this?” He gestured down to his outfit.

Now it was Scar’s turn to be confused. “I mean…”

He was trying to generate some sort of reply, because if that wasn’t what he was doing, then what was the point of all this?

He was interrupted by a hissing noise behind him.

“Seriously?” Scar groaned as he pulled his bow. It sprang to it’s full length and he knocked an arrow, turning to casually fire behind him. The last of the monsters, which was just out the half smashed doorway of the four story building behind them, was struck clean in the chest, the arrow thrust in deep and electrocuted the thing. Scar turned back without bothering to watch the thing fall.

“Ok, before I was rudely interrupted, then why are you…” He tried to continue but he saw Cute Guy’s face morph into an expression of fear.

For an instant he was on his heels, his wings snapping out. Scar thought he was going to shoot up into the sky and be gone, but then his eyes widened further. The purple light in his eyes flared.

“Watch it!”

His voice cracked, and he hurtled forward, slamming into Scar and tackling him to the ground. Scar didn’t have the time to question why before there was a massive explosion. The monster had apparently absorbed the energy like a charger, and blew up. The resulting shockwave rushed over them, and Scar was sure his eardrums would’ve been ruptured or something worse by the impact, but a split-second before it hit there was suddenly shield of feathers around his head, muffling the noise.

It hit hard, he still felt the impact in his chest. Then he heard the rumble.

“Oh, great!” He recognized Cute Guy shout, but his voice was quaking. Thinner arms looped under Scar’s larger, more muscular frame and then he was hurtling forward at an incredibly high speed. The grit out whine of pain that came out of the avian half carrying him along sent a bolt of sharp, terrifying clarify through him.

That was when the building came down on top of them.

***

Scar had come slowly back up from forced unconsciousness more times than was probably healthy in ones life. So when he first came too, he followed his usual protocol. Before he even opened his eyes, he ran a mental body scan. First searching for any critical injuries. He found none, nothing was broken or majorly bleeding. He had a few small scrapes and cuts along his back any exposed skin on the backs of his legs and shoulders.

Which, considering his hero costume, was frankly quite a lot.

Next, he checked in mentally. He knew his name, how old he was, that his beloved cat Jellie was probably angry at him for being late for breakfast time. He was a college professor as well as a secret government-funded superhero.

Ok, all there.

Then, slowly, he opened his eyes. It was mostly dark, but there was enough light trickling through small cracks or gaps in the rubble that he could see.

Curled into the corner, wings pulled tight around him to the point he was barely visible, was Cute Guy.

Or, whatever his name was. Scar really did need to properly address that, huh?

Scar slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees, and he managed, but a wobble to his frame made him realize another immediate problem.

My braces are busted from being dragged along the ground.

The fine tuned instruments within his braces, especially the ones that picked up of nerves firing and let him move freely, weren’t that easy to break.

But getting dragged along pavement faster than a bullet train and then having a building come down on top of them?

That was do it.

Ok, ok, just keep it chill.

Scar reminded himself firmly, slowly dragging himself to the large angled slab of foundation that’d saved the two of them from actually being crushed.

He settled himself down carefully, resisting the urge to arrange his legs into a more comfortable position. Because a single purple eye was staring out at him through a small gap between his wings.

“Uh, good morning, sunshine!” He greeted, forcing a lopsided grin.

“…hi.”

That wasn’t his typically response, Scar had been expecting an insult, but he managed to keep things light. “You got any major boo boos to worry about?”

A slow blink.

“…yeah. But I’ll be fine.” He said quietly.

Scar hadn’t been genuinely expecting Cute Guy to be hurt, but he had to firmly remind himself that not everyone had gone through a hero enhancement program that’d left them far more resistant to damage than normal. And Scar was bleeding.

“…you want me to take a look? I’ve got some medical training, government-mandated stuff for my job, yeah, but better than nothing.”

The single glowing purple eye staring out at him grew dimmer. “You…won’t hurt me?”

Scar sputtered. “Hurt you? Have we not been basically backing each other up for months at this point?”

“Only because you couldn’t catch me.”

“I let you get away, ok!?” Scar refused to budge on this point, and that drew a weak giggle out of the avian.

“…ok.” Slowly, he unwound his wings from around himself, and turned lightly.

“…ow, ow, ow…bad?” He hissed.

Scar felt his mouth go dry.

His wings were a mess. Black and pink feathers twisted or sticking out at wrong angles, droplets of blood weeping down from some parts, and there was even a piece of re-bar jammed into the more muscular portion closer to where the wings connected into his skin, in a long root from the base of his shoulder blades down to his lower back.

“…um. I mean. Not gonna lie to you, buddy, I’m no wing expert but…doesn’t look good.” Scar admitted, before he carefully maneuvered himself closer. Cute Guy’s back was turned to him, so he was able to quickly rearrange his legs to settle into a more comfortable position. Usually they weren’t as bad as this, but it seemed like the circuitry of his braces breaking hadn’t been easy of them, so they were almost to the point of being dead weight.

“Do you want me to clean them up? I can at least get some of the places you can’t reach.” Scar offered.

Cute Guy’s spine went ramrod straight, and the wings on the sides of his head all shot upward in perfect unison. The feathers of his wings all shifted, and if they were in better shape he wondered if they might have puffed up. He shot a look over his shoulder, and even through the dark energy that concealed most of his face, Scar could make out a burning red flush that crept all the way down to his neck, where his costume top was held up by a pink choker.

“Y-You? No way, I couldn’t, I can’t I…uh…” He shifted again, his wings flexed on habit, and he whimpered, ducking his head down.

A few seconds ticked by where Scar was just genuinely confused, before he finally spoke again.

“…fine. Just this once.”

Scar smiled. “Aw, I’m on it, little birdie!”

“Shut up.” He received in reply, but was weak, no real bite behind it.

So Scar began to very carefully preen through Cute Guy’s wings. He combed through, gently straightening out some of the feathers. When he finally came to one that was twisted painfully out of shape, he ran his finger over it gently.

“Want me to just leave this one?”

In reply, he saw Cute Guy curled into an even smaller ball than he’d already been in. The entire time he’d been sitting with his head ducked down, arms wrapped around his knees.

“…it’d be better if you pulled it. It’ll heal faster.”

Scar hesitated. “Won’t that…hurt?”

A scoff. “Yeah. But it hurts now anyway, so might as well just get it out so I can grow a new one.” He muttered.

“Alright. Which way do I pull it?” Scar asked, wanting to clarify.

A few ticks of silence.

“Straight down would be best.”

“You got it. Want me to countdown?”

“Just do it already.” Cute Guy groaned, pressing his head further down and Scar took the hint. He got a firm grip on the feather and pulled straight down. It came out easily, but based on the short, high-pitched whine it got out of the avian, it must’ve not felt easy.

“Sorry!”

Scar felt bad even though he knew this was the same concept as removing a splinter. Even if it hurt to take it out, it would hurt worse the longer you left it. Better to get it over with.

“No worries. You ok?” He found his hand lowering, rubbing a few circles against the small of the avians back, hoping it was a comfort.

“…fine.” He received the word spat out again.

Scar continued to preen his wings, luckily there weren’t any other feathers bent so badly out of shape they had to be pulled out. There were a few more spots where Scar found himself muttering encouragement and apologies as he brushed through. Then, he came to the biggest issue, which he’d gone around intended to leave for last.

“What…about this?” He asked, gently touching at the rebar. It vanished into the layers of feathers on Cute Guys wings, but Scar didn’t doubt it was stuck into his muscle at this point.

The tension was still high in Cute Guy’s shoulders as he drew himself together even tighter. “Can you take it out?”

Scar hesitated. “I mean, yeah, but problem is I can’t see how deep the injury is because your feathers are covering it up.” He brushed gently at a few of the feathers obstructing his view, easing them aside, but the finer downy feathers below the large, pronounced ones still hid it.

“…doesn’t…doesn’t feel that deep.”

“Ok. Your call. I’ve got some bandage tape in my quiver, I can wrap it up best I can once I pull it out. But we also don’t want to start you bleeding to much, especially since I’ve got no idea how long it’ll take them to dig us out.”

“How long…?” He considered it, before nodding shortly.

“Just get it out.”

“Huh?”

“I need to be able to fly away when they try and arrest me. A piece of rebar sticking out of my wing is gonna make that impossible.” Cute Guy replied frankly.

“They…well…” Scar had wanted to insist they’d let him go, but he realized pretty quickly that wasn’t the case. While the higher-ups recognized they couldn’t just eliminate Cute Guy, considering he’d become something of a citywide heartthrob, they also wanted to bring him in and hopefully arrange some more preferable terms for a retirement back to the under-city. 

So Scar couldn’t promise that. He sighed again, heavier this time.

“Ok, birdie, if you say so.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Well, what do you want me to call you? I don’t know your name!”

He got a non-committed scoff in response. “Just get it out, Pretty Boy.”

Scar would take that over ‘old guy’ so he didn’t complain. He carefully set one hand on the base of the wing and made sure he had a good grasp of the rebar.

“I’m gonna go slower, I don’t wanna risk tearing you up any worse.” He warned.

“Oh, fantastic.” Cute Guy hissed in reply.

Scar gave his first tug at the rebar and felt it give. He got a garbled series of noises that might’ve been words but he, quite frankly, wasn’t sure. So he decided not to drag this out. As quickly as he felt he could without causing more damage, Scar pulled the rebar out. Thankfully it hadn’t been that deep, and the injury must’ve missed any wider blood vessels because the bleeding, while very obvious, wasn’t terrifyingly serious.

Scar carefully bandaged it up anyway. He made sure as he wrapped that all of Cute Guy’s feathers faced the proper way, so he wouldn’t have to suffer any more discomfort.

“There. All done. Feel better?”

“Better being the objective term…yeah. Better.” Cute Guy replied.

He slowly scooted his way around to sit side by side with Scar, lifting his head just enough to see his face. His purple glowing eyes were pained and weary, sweat beaded his brow and escaped along his temples where a messy mop of light brown hair covered the roots of the wings on his temples.

“Thanks.” He managed shortly. His typical mirthful, teasing smile that made Scar’s chest stir a certain sort of way was beyond reach. But when his lips twitched upward, it was genuine.

Scar smiled back. His visor still completely concealed his eyes from Cute Guy, but they were light and gentle. “No need. You got banged up like that saving me. I should be thanking you, little birdie.”

Cute Guy seemed about to complain about the nickname again, but he recalled how Scar had snapped about not knowing whatever name he wanted to go by, and fell quiet.

“Yeah, well. You’re not half bad.”

“I’m flattered.”

He got a soft giggle in return.

They sat for a few minutes in silence, before Cute Guy finally lifted his head from his knees and leaned it back, stretching.

Scar looked to the side at him. Exposed shoulders led up to his face, a beautiful facade for a man. That was obvious even through the darkness that shifted across his cheeks and concealed his face.

“…not like I don’t see this isn’t the time, but we’ve got nothing better to do. So I’ll ask you, again. Why are you doing this?”

Cute Guy fixed him with an irritated glare, his purple eyes flashing, and Scar winced, putting his hands up disarmingly. “I just…I mean, you dove under a crumbling building to save me so I assume you don’t absolutely hate me. And I don’t hate you, either.”

“Wow. I’m charmed.”

“Oh, come on! You know what I mean! You’re clearly a good person, doing good work, but it’s only gonna be so long before you get stuck, like this.” Scar pointed out, and Cute Guy shrugged weakly. His eyes trailed along the edge of the rubble boxing them in, then down to the ground where a dark gap peered out from another slab. He stared at that point for a few seconds before he dropped his head back, knocking it gently off the rock behind him.

“I want them to see a hybrid as a hero. Actually see one of us, instead of all the nasty rumors and reports that make us out to be a bunch of monsters from the mythic age who just want to cause pain for pains sake.” Cute Guy finally replied.

Scar stared blankly. Then he immediately felt like an idiot for acting all high and mighty when his newfound partner had been fighting for something like this. “So…”

“And don’t get me wrong! I still want to help people and do the right thing and all that, yeah, that’s great! But like…”

He raised his gloved arms to gesture in front of him, like he could pull the intangible he was searching for from out of the air.

“…I just…I dunno. I saw how people love you. And I thought maybe if they love me too, one day, they could love my friends as well. Even the ones who look a little scary. Because I’m one of the lucky ones.”

Scar felt like he’d stopped following toward the end there. “Lucky?” He pressed, leaning forward on one arm to get a bit closer, get a better look at Cute Guy’s expression. The wings on his head snapped forward, partly concealing his eyes, but he seemed unbearable somber. Which Scar didn’t like. The avian he’d met on the streets above months ago was flirty, chaotic, and excessive. Seeing him like this made the archers heart ache.

“…I can hide. There are some of us who can, and we do. But it’s so hard…some of my friends can’t hide, they look too different, or they can’t use glamor.”

“Glamor? What’s that?” Scar asked.

He’d never actually had a real conversation with a hybrid or a mutant before. Yet now here he sat, listening to the perspective of one who’d lived in the murky edges of society that Scar had always forced himself to ignore.

A short, heavy huff got out of Cute Guy. “…great timing to ask…because mines running low…”

He suddenly folded the wings on his temples over his face, completely hiding it from view. Purple eyes vanished behind red and yellow feathers.

Wait, red and yellow?

Because the black and pink that’d become staple colors for Cute Guy was fading away, being replaced with red, blue, and yellow in colorful bands.

Like a parrot.

Scar’s subconscious provided.

A few deep breaths later, and Cute Guy raised one of the wings on his temple, purple glowing eyes still gleamed out.

Scar was beyond confused. “So this is…you dye your wings?”

“It’s not dyeing. It’s called glamor. It’s…kind of like magic? All of us can use it, some better than others. I’m lucky, because I’m really good with glamor. And my features are mostly humanoid, so I don’t have to hide as much.”

Scar finally put together the pieces. “Wait, so you come up to the over-city pretending to be human!?” He demanded, eyes wide behind his visor.

“Don’t be so surprised, Pretty Boy. We’ve been doing it for as long as the over-city and under-city have been a thing.” Cute Guy muttered, still leaning his head back against the stone behind him.

“But that’s…”

“Illegal? Yeah, if you get caught.”

Scar felt his eye twitch. “But…the under-city is…”

He received a tired glare from behind carefully folded wings.

“…not exactly an easy place to live. So a lot of us live on the surface instead.  We’re already here. You just can’t see us. Everywhere. But we have to hide because the humans need to believe they’re safe from the big scary mutant monsters that lurk in the dark.” He made clawing motions with his hands at this.

Scar felt distinctly foolish, all of a sudden. “Well that’s…so do you live up here, somewhere?”

Cute Guy stared at him for a few seconds, quietly. Then he turned his eyes back ahead of him again. “Yeah. Somewhere.”

Scar made a one-note noise in the back of his throat.

“Thanks…for explaining.”

“Whatever.”

“I’ll never tell anyone. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I’ve worked pretty high up in the government, and no one seems to be realizing that hybrids or mutants are living under our noses in plain sight.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Cute Guy muttered in reply.

A few moments passed, then Scar carefully dragged himself into sitting position against the rock and patted the thigh of one of his leg bracers with a grin. “Hey, I’ll trade you some blackmail, how does that sound?”

Cute Guy’s eyes wandered back over to him, then down to his legs, still rather awkwardly stuck out in front of him. “…trade?”

“I’ll give you some dirt on me. So you can trust I won’t spill your beans. Deal?”

The wings on his head fluffed up, Scar saw it almost like he was furrowing his brow. “…ok…deal.”

Scar delivered another pat to his bracers. “These puppies are what help me run. Without them can I walk with a cane, but it gets really exhausting so I usually use a wheelchair as well.”

He said it so comfortably, so casually, that it almost made him feel like he was out of uniform. Like he and this avian he’d stumbled into were just friends having a vulnerable chat.

So it took him a few seconds to wonder why Cute Guy wasn’t more surprised by this revelation.

“Um…oh. That’s…wow. You’re a good actor.” He finally managed to say, and Scar blinked, head tilted, even further confused.

He’s not…did he know? No way! But then…

He was interrupted from his thoughts when he recognized the rumble of machinery up above. Already he could see the light getting brighter.

“Oh, they’re finally digging us out! Hey, you think you can fly? I’ll try and cover for ya ok? I can even play dead!” Scar hurriedly poured out some ideas to ensure Cute Guy got out of here without being caught.

“Sweet of you, but not necessary.” Came the reply, and his eyes widened as the avian inched himself further back into the cave, then reached out and set his hand on the edge of the stone over the large dark shadowy crack. Pink energy glowing along his arm and vanished into the stone, and it shattered. Their little pocket trembled but didn’t collapse, and the opening in the rubble revealed a chasm.

“That’s where those…those green things were coming from!”

“Yup. From the under-city. We’re used to them, though, they’re just really annoying pests to us. They’re called creepers, by the way.” Cute Guy replied, waving him off as he slipped his legs over the edge.

“Hey, hey! You’ll be ok?” Scar demanded, because it was obvious his wings still weren’t in the best shape even concerning his efforts.

Cute Guy looked over his shoulder with an attempt at that mirthful, teasing grin he usually leveled Scar. He gave a cheeky two-fingered salute.

“Don’t be sad, I’m sure we’ll have another date soon. See ya.” He kicked his feet forward and fell into the dark. The red, blue and yellow wings vanishing were a sharp contrast to the black and pink Scar was used too.

They were still beautiful, though.

He leaned back against the rock behind him again as he heard the last of the rubble being shifted away, the light breaking through to him.

He really is something else.

The Next Morning.

Scar was flicking through some lecture notes absentmindedly, getting ready to head in to teach his next class, when the door to the break room shut loudly behind him.

He looked up to see a man in an over large, bright red sweater that fell nearly to his knees and tight jeans strolling in. The white collar of the shirt he wore under his sweater was half-turned up, and he had dark bags under warm chocolate brown eyes. A mop of unruly light brown hair was styled messily on his head.

“Good morning, Grian! You ok, bud?” He asked cheerfully.

Not that he wasn’t also completely exhausted from nearly getting crushed by a building the previous afternoon, but he’d had twenty years worth of practice hiding such things.

“Yeah, I’m alright, just didn’t get any good sleep last night. Not the day for it, exams are next week, right? I still haven’t written my midterm questions…” Grian sighed wearily as he trodded into the room and dropped into the chair next to where Scar had pushed his wheelchair up to the table.

“Better get on that! C’mon, you got this. I’ll get you one of those awful sugary lattes you like if you pull through by the weekend.”

“Weekend!? Scar, I can’t write them in a day!” Grian complained, dropping his head onto the table.

“Tut, tut, you’re a professional procrastinator, and I know it. Saturday, same place, same time? Bring the rough drafts and I’ll help edit them and pick out the winners?”

“Stop pretending you’re the mature one, you do this exact same thing.” Grian glared between his fingers at him accusingly.

For a split-second, Scar though maybe his eyes had gleamed with a purple hue, but the next it was gone. He raked a hand back through his dark brown hair, loose behind his head and nearly to his shoulders.

Man, I’m more tired than I realized.

“Maybe I do, but this time it wasn’t me, so I get to gloat. Let me know about Saturday, I gotta get to the lecture hall, see ya!” He called as he backed his wheelchair and turned, headed toward the door and off into the hallway.

Grian watched him go from between his fingers. “Yeah, see ya…” He said, then he turned and planted his forehead straight into the table, murmuring to himself under his breath one extra phrase, far to quiet for Scar to hear.

“…Pretty Boy.”