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Scar hissed as Grian flinches away, holding the piece of wet wool away from the open cut with a quiet apology. He took a deep breath before encouraging Grian to keep going; it wasn’t pleasant, but cleaning the wounds was easier than dealing with (and potentially dying from) an infected wound. Scar already had enough things to worry about, and he didn’t want his death count this season to rise too quickly. He had a feeling, though, with Grian as a neighbor, he wouldn’t exactly get a choice in that matter.
“I think that’s as clean as this one is going to get, Scar.” Grian tells him, taking a dry, clean piece of wool and wrapping it around his lower forearm. “I didn’t think you’d get this scuffed up, or else I wouldn’t have done it. I didn’t expect you to die so much either.”
Scar sighs, smiling nonetheless as Grian grabs a new square of wool to clean another cut with. “It’s my curse. It’s not a Hermitcraft season if I’m not dying constantly.”
“One day you should consider changing that motto.” He purses his lips as he looks Scar over. “I got all of the visible ones, where are the rest?” Scar raises a hand to point at his covered chest. “How?”
“Zombies are cruel creatures, Grian! They just pull and scratch and my flimsy pajamas can only take so much!”
Grian laughs, waving his hands to calm him down. “Okay, okay, I get it. But I still need to get to them.” There’s a moment of silence between them, before Grian rolls his eyes and gestures up. “Come on, shirt off.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Scar tugs at his robe, tossing it onto a chest. It feels better, already, in the humidity of the jungle. He is about to pull his undershirt off, when he smirks, looking at Grian. “I think you should, too.”
“I should what? Take my shirt off?” Scar nods and Grian splutters, “Why?”
“You’re just demanding I strip down to my underwear for you, and you won’t even give me any eye candy in return?”
“I’m trying to bandage you up! And you chose to wear nothing but boxers, that is not my fault.” Scar doesn’t let up, though, giving him borderline puppy-dog eyes. Grian is powerless to the puppy-dog eyes. Especially Scar’s. He lets out a loud, over exaggerated sigh. “ Fine. ”
In one quick motion he tugs his sweater up, slipping his arms out from the sleeves and popping it over his head. He follows Scar’s lead, tossing his shirt aside. He’s still wearing a black tank top underneath, and Scar waits expectantly, until Grian rolls his eyes and tugs that off, too. Scar still stares, though, and Grian crosses his arms.
“I’m not taking my pants off, Scar.”
Scar simply pouts, but doesn’t push it before pulling his own tank top off, muttering “Spoil sport.”
Grian grimaces at the sight, bruises and open cuts littering Scar’s chest. A few dribbles of dried blood from the amount of respawns, but Grian makes a mental note to wash Scar’s clothes anyways. Respawning should not be the main source of clean clothes. He shuffles to sit loser, his knees folded underneath him as he leans forward, gently rubbing away the crimson stains on pale skin.
Scar seems remarkably unbothered by it, probably due to how used to it he is at this point. Instead he takes the time to trace a hand over the muscles on Grian’s back. He smiles at the involuntary shiver that travels down Grian’s back at the ticklish touch. He feels along the indents on his back, humming at the unusual not-quite-scar tissue there.
“Is that where your wings usually are?”
Grian takes a moment to process, sitting back enough to reach over his shoulder and feel where Scar was a second ago. “Yeah, it is.”
“Where do they go? Between seasons?”
Grian shrugs, going back to cleaning Scar’s chest. “I don’t really know, honestly. I just know they come back once I find an elytra.”
“That’s cool.” Scar goes back to feeling along Grian’s back, scratching up and down over the soft skin, and the other gives a pleased hum at the feeling. “What’s it like having wings?”
“It’s fun.” He tells him, before adding, “Troublesome, though.”
“It is?”
“Well, I have to alter all my clothes to have clasps in the back. I need to groom the feathers. They’re usually really stiff in the morning. Sorry,” he mutters the apology as Scar winces as the wool goes over another open sore. “It’s kind of nice being normal for a bit. Just, being a normal human for a little while, before I have to deal with all the pitfalls of being a hybrid.”
Scar lets that last comment sink in before he decides he can’t let that stand. “I think your wings are incredible.”
Grian leans back to meet Scar’s eyes, raising an eyebrow and a tilted smile. “Because you have a tendency to lose your elytras?”
“Well, that’s just a bonus. But, no. I mean your wings are awesome, dude! You talk about being a hybrid as if it’s a curse.”
Grian shrugs, breaking eye contact and decides to focus on one particularly stubborn piece of dried blood. “You don’t have to live with it.”
“No, but, I’m glad you’re a hybrid.”
This time, Grian snorts. He leans back again, deciding to discard the wool for the time being. “Oh yeah? Why?”
He says it with such disbelief that Scar feels challenged to defend his stance. Which is fine, he can list plenty of benefits. But first, he holds his arms out towards Grian, making grabby hands until he laughs and the smaller man shuffles forward enough to climb into Scar’s lap. Scar hums happily, wrapping his arms around the other and appreciating the closeness despite the warm weather. Grian settles easily, letting his head rest on Scar’s shoulder as it usually does.
“Let me see,” Scar begins, “well, to start off, you have a portable blanket.”
“I wear a sweater almost everyday, Scar. That is literally a blanket that I wear.”
“Yeah, well, I get to partake in the blanket-having with your wings. Do you even realize that you wrap your wings around people when you're close to them? It’s very cute.”
Grian sinks down a fraction, hiding his face in the crook of Scar’s neck. “Well, I, yeah, I know I do.” He mutters, clearly embarrassed at being so plainly called out. “I like having you close.”
Scar grins, trailing a hand up to card through Grian’s hair, pulling apart some strands that stick together. “And I like having you close, too! It makes me feel like I’m getting one big hug by big, fluffy arms.”
He can feel Grian’s quiet laugh against his neck. He wraps his arms firmly around the other, before leaning back to lay on the bed they’ve been sitting on. Grian rearranges himself, but just barely, curling up more and getting comfortable using Scar as a pillow.
“I will say,” Scar keeps talking, rubbing small circles up and down Grian’s side, noticing how he yawns, “I do like you this way, too. I get to be the one to wrap you up, cuddle you close.”
“You still do that when I have wings.” He mutters, voice dripping with sleepiness.
“But you’re smaller like this.Like a big baby.”
“I am not a baby.”
“And yet here you are, falling asleep on me like one.” He laughs as Grian weakly hits his chest.
“Shut up. It’s been a long day.”
“Of killing me, yes, I know.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.” Scar’s voice is gentler now, placing a soft kiss to the top of Grian’s head. “You can go to sleep if you want, Grian.”
“We’re gonna wake up stuck to each other. It’s too hot to cuddle shirtless.” He whines, yet makes no move to get up.
Scar simply laughs, continuing to scratch and massage the back of Grian’s head through his hair. “Well, you’ll simply have to deal with that, hm?”
Grian yawns again, settling even further, tilting his head back into the touch. “I’ll just kill you again to get unstuck.”
Scar laughs again, Grian smiling as the sound shakes him.