Goodtimeswithscar

What was meant to be a simple in and out mission turned into.. just a bit more. Well, it was amazing for the press, to see CuteGuy as the center of attention in the media for once, front pages on the newspaper, number one trending on socials, being swarmed by reporters and camera men. For once Scar was able to hold back, watching around while Grian was the popular one.

What a lovely thing it was, the sight of his sidekick getting the attention he deserved, seeing "CUTEGUY STOPS THE GOATMAN AND DISARMS BOMB; SAVES ENTIER CITY!!" plastered everywhere. Scar was happy for him, he was, really.

Thats what Scar would've said if he wasn't a jealous prick.

He stood there, pretended he didn't feel the simmering heat of jealousy pooling in his stomach, the ache in his chest as he stared forward at CuteGuy's winged back, swarmed by the figures of reporters and interviews trying to fight the story out of him first.

It wasn't the attention... well, maybe a bit- it wasn't the fact it wasn't on him, it was the fact it was on CuteGuy. All of it. He liked it better when CuteGuy was at his side, feathers fluffed and framing him where he was meant to be, Scars, not the publics- that was his job, CuteGuy's was to be his.

Scar needed Grian to remember what his job was. ...

The next time he got his sidekick alone he was pressing his birdies front up against the smooth padding of the training room wall, leathery matte surface making the avians dirty blonde locks of hair stick to his sweat dampened face and his wings flare and shiver at the position he was forced into, chest and stomach pressed to his wall and Scars front pressed to his back.

"If they saw me treating you like this songbird, they'd assume you were mine,"

he murmured to him, his voice low and possessive right near CuteGuy's ear. His hand drifted down, lower back, his bottom and brushed gently against the shorter, whispy tail feathers CuteGuy often denied having entirely. This was a side of them the public didn't often see. They were alone, HQ was empty, so was the training room, It would be until later tonight. Grian was in breezy workout shorts and a thin T-shirt, both were loose, the shorts low enough to show off the tail feathers he preferred to hide and the vague shape of his anatomy underneath along with the pale, unexplored skin of his sidekick thighs.

"And they'd be right."

He added gently, his voice was a rough wanting thing and he nuzzled his face into CuteGuy's neck, his stubble scratching gently against the smooth skin, his lips brushing over his pulse point.

"I don't give a fuck what they think. I just want you to understand that. I just need to hear the yes from you, birdie."