Work Text:
shedletsky is leaning against the wall, watching the other survivors gather around the biggest, main table. it had been a hard round, and exhaustion tugs on shedletsky’s shoulders. nobody had died, despite some of them suffering some pretty bad wounds. shedletsky should probably feel proud about that. he did help protect some of the other survivors, after all. yet, every time he closes his eyes, he sees flickers of green, hears faint taunts in his ears.
shedletsky hates the fact 1x1x1x1 was here. he hates the fact they get enjoyment out of this. and above all else, he hates how he’s left feeling frayed and on edge after every painful encounter with them.
shedletsky digs his fingers into his crossed arms. it’s a cruel twist of irony, to use his own former power against him. that strength belongs to him. what a joke. if he wanted to, he could kill that fraud with only his bare hands. he could kill everyone here. they all think he’s weak. he can prove them wrong, right now. all he needs to do is-
shedletsky hears footsteps approaching, interrupting his unpleasant train of thought. he shakes his head slightly, turning to see fellow sentinel guest1337.
“you did good out there,” guest remarks, coming to a stop besides shedletsky.
shedletsky gives the soldier a small smile, standing up straighter. “thanks, man. so did you.”
guest gives shedletsky the tiniest smile back, thumping shedletsky’s back in a show of comradeship. it’s should’ve been painless, if not a little too vigorous for comfort. guest doesn't mean to hurt shedletsky, they both know that. that doesn't stop a spike of pain from shooting up shedletsky’s spine. he can’t stop himself from tensing up, smile turning into a grimace.
guest frowns, perceptive to shedletsky’s pain. “is something wrong?”
shit.
“ah, you know.” shedletsky rubs the back of his head, trying in vain to ignore the way his back throbs. “i, uh, got knocked backwards during that round. my back hurts a little. it’s no big deal.”
guest doesn’t look entirely convinced. “i don’t recall that happening.”
“it happened when i was alone.”
now guest looks worried, face furrowed slightly. “i thought you were with the main group for the majority of that round.”
shedletsky fumbles a little. “i-”
“aye.” builderman steps up from behind builderman. shedletsky tries not to look too relieved.
“hope i’m not interruptin,’” builderman says, calm and quiet. “need yer help with somethin’ outside, shed.”
“ah, i’m not busy,” shedletsky replies, maybe a bit too eagerly.
“before you go.” guest still looks a little concerned. “...are you sure you’re alright?”
“thanks for the concern, but i’m fine.” shedletsky realizes a second too late that sounds harsh. he hastily adds on, “if something was wrong, i would tell you, you know?”
guest narrows his eyes slightly, before nodding. shedletsky can tell guest doesn’t believe him. despite this, the veteran doesn't press the issue, walking off to join the rest of the survivors sitting around the main table. shedletsky curses internally. god dammit.
“well, c’mon, now.” builderman has already started walking out of the house.
shedletsky glances at guest’s back one last time before turning heel to follow builderman. he leaves the warmth of the indoors behind, stepping out into the somewhat chilly night. builderman is waiting on the front porch, hands in his jacket pockets.
shedletsky lets the door close behind him. “you don’t really need help, do you?”
“‘course not.” builderman walks down the steps, heading towards one of the cabins. shedletsky’s cabin, in particular.
“shit,” shedletsky swears under his breath, following builderman.
builderman opens the door, holding it open for shedletsky to go inside first. shedletsky stops in the doorway, giving builderman a look. “i can do this by myself.”
“sure you could.” builderman doesn’t move.
shedletsky scowls. builderman raises an eyebrow slightly. shedletsky knows how stubborn builderman is. they’ll stand here all night if shedletsky doesn’t back down.
maybe shedletsky should punch builderman in the face. that would get the point across, wouldn't it?
whatever.
shedletsky shoulders past builderman. builderman doesn’t say anything, because of course he doesn’t. he rarely vocalizes when things bother him. it’s admirable at times, but it pisses shedletsky off whenever that silent attitude is turned on him. he used to be able to get under builderman’s skin so easily.
ugh. shedletsky doesn’t like thinking like that. he clenches his hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his palms.
he hears builderman step into the cabin behind him, closing and locking the door. it’s a small cabin, lightly lived in. there’s a table and two chairs next to a fireplace, and a bed in the opposite corner. there isn’t much to do to personalize it, with them being in hell and all. aside from a few inconspicuous feathers cluttered in the corners, nobody would be able to tell shedletsky sleeps here.
shedletsky feels like ripping his hair out. he’s tired, his back hurts, and he can’t stop the frustration bubbling up inside him. builderman being here is making it worse. he’s half tempted to start screaming at builderman. rationally, he knows it’ll get him nowhere. he’s tried, in the past. throwing tantrums just embarasses himself.
builderman sits on the bed. “pull up that chair ov’r there.”
shedletsky groans, putting his face in his hands and tilting his head back. “gotta… let them out first.”
“get to it, then,” builderman replies.
“straightforward as ever,” shedletsky retorts. “it’s not gonna be pretty.”
builderman doesn't visibly react, making it clear that shedletsky won’t be able to scare him off.
shedletsky turns away. “god, fine. just-”
shedletsky pulls his shirt off, tossing it onto the back of one of the chairs. he puts his hands on the table, staring down at the wood grain. maybe he can convince himself builderman isn’t here, trick himself into ignoring the feeling of eyes on him. it’s not like this is the first time they’ve done this. what builderman doesn't know is how bad shedletsky has let this get.
something shifts under his skin on his back and he freezes. right. his wings.
they want out. they want out right now. shedletsky stiffens, fingers digging into the table. he tries to take deep breaths, attempting to prepare himself for the pain he’s about to feel.
shedletsky is quick to realize that his, admittedly small, prep work did nothing.
his wings push. he can start to feel his skin tearing from the inside out. shedletsky bites his tongue to keep himself from making any noise. the quicker he can get them out, the less it’ll hurt.
shedletsky makes a small effort to push his wings outward. it's a familiar feeling, for just a fleeting second.
and then the pain hits.
shedletsky can’t stop himself from gasping, fingers digging into the table. there’s a wet ripping sound and shedletsky’s legs buckle under him. his vision goes dark at the edges. something is shoved into his mouth and he bites down on it. he can’t help screaming, the cloth in his mouth thankfully muffling the sound.
it feels like eons pass. eventually, the pain ebbs to a level where shedletsky is able to think again. he’s on his knees next to the table, hands on the tables edge. he spits out what turns out to be his shirt in his mouth. with some effort, he forces his hands to unclench from the table. he might’ve left grooves with how hard he was gripping. oops.
shedletsky sits backwards with an exhausted sigh. his wings tug a little at the wounds he just made as he adjusts. stupid, big heavy wings. it feels so good to feel air on his feathers again.
“swords, john,” builderman curses. he’s sitting on the floor beside shedletsky.
shedletsky tries for a smirk. “i told you it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“this isn’t somethin’ to joke about,” builderman snaps. it’s a little startling, hearing him genuinely upset.
“well-” shedletsky grabs onto the table, hauling himself up with a grunt. he feels lightheaded for a moment, probably from blood loss. “it’s my problem. i get to joke about it if i want.”
shedletsky experimentally moves his wings a little. he’s pleased to note they still respond to him. it’d be bad if they stopped working altogether. shedletsky stretches them out behind him, relishing in the slight burn of his muscles. it feels good, so good. he lets out a small, pleased noise.
builderman gets up as well, looking at shedletsky’s wings with slightly narrowed eyes. “yer feathers have seen bett’r days.”
“wouldn’t be surprised.” shedletsky cranes his head slightly to asses the state of his wings. there’s a mixture of dried and fresh blood splattered across the feathers. many of them are bent or dull looking. he frowns slightly.
builderman isn’t saying anything. shedletsky can’t tell what he’s thinking. “penny for your thoughts?”
“you aren’t gonna like what i’m about to say,” builderman says.
shedletsky folds his wings up, turning to casually lean on the table as if he wasn’t seconds from passing out from pain moments before. “hit me.”
“th’ state of yer wings isn’t good,” builderman starts. “we gotta change somethin.’”
shedletsky doesn’t like where this is going.
“i told ye you wouldn’t like it,” builderman grumbles at shedletsky’s expression.
“gonna have to say no to that idea, builder,” shedletsky says, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone.
builderman sighs, short and exasperated. “i’ve nev’r seen you be in that much pain over takin’ your wings out.”
shedletsky scoffs, turning away. “these aren’t ideal circumstances. i gotta do what i gotta do.”
“you don’t, that's the thing,” builderman lashes. “if ye just told the other’s about-”
“i can’t, builder." shedletsky cuts builderman off. "why don't you understand?”
shedletsky pushes himself off the table. he starts to pace back and forth, agitation making him need to move. builderman stays by the table, watching shedletsky with those stupid observant eyes.
shedletsky runs a hand through his hair. “you know how robloxians are. if i tell them about my wings, at least one of them is gonna know who else has wings like mine. and if they know that, who knows if they know what i- and if they find out about 1x-”
the name catches in his throat. shedletsky coughs. “if they find out, well, you’ve seen how they treat 007.”
“007 was a hacker,” builderman says.
“‘was,’” shedletsky repeats. “he’s not anymore, and clearly he feels remorse but that doesn’t stop everyone from treating him like shit.”
builderman scowls. “007 may have changed, but that ain’t excusin’ the fact he has… past experience with anothr’ one of our group.”
shedletsky doesn’t reply to that. builderman keeps talking. “he an’ his son used to terrorize that kid’s workplace. elliot’s got the right to-”
“are you saying i’m a better person than 007?” shedletsky yells. his wings snap open, one of them hitting the wall. he swears in pain.
builderman crosses his arms. “that wasn't what i was-”
“sure, elliot’s got the right to be mad at 007,” shedletsky waves his hands for emphasis. “but if i stroll out there and say ‘hey, i’m actually telamon!’ they're either not gonna believe me, ask me what i used to do, or they know what i used to do already, and then boom-! all trust? gone!”
“you don’t know that,” builderman says.
“but i do.” shedletsky stops his pacing, taking a step towards builderman. “you see how they treat 007 for his past actions. i’ve done much, much worse. if they treat 007 like that…”
shedletsky’s shoulders slump, the fire inside him flickering out. “...whatever.”
builderman doesn't reply. shedletsky sighs, moving to sit on the bed. he’s so tired. he can’t put into words just how exhausted he is. he isn’t sure if builderman would understand, either. he’s been builderman, the demigod his whole life. how do you explain the stress of having a past life unearthed? how do you explain the feeling of seeing your mistakes physically manifest?
builderman comes and sits beside shedletsky on the bed. neither of them say anything.
after a few moments, builderman speaks. “you're scared.”
shedletsky wraps his arms around himself, staring into his lap. of course builderman could tell he's scared.
“y’know, telamon was never scared,” builderman says.
the name sends a jolt through shedletsky, wings fluffing up slightly. his hands start tingling. he gives builderman a look. builderman simply blinks. shedletsky huffs, shaking the tingling from his hands. “oh, i know. did you forget i was her?”
“an’ yet, you're scared.” builderman turns towards shedletsky slightly. “doesn't that show there's a difference between her an’ you?”
shedletsky is quiet for a moment, before lifting his shoulders in a small shrug. “i guess.”
“you're not a god anymore,” builderman murmurs. “you're not her. you're you, shedletsky. an’ normal robloxians keep secrets, ‘n get scared, ‘n make mistakes. it's all part of bein’ human.”
shedletsky eyes builderman from the corner of his eye. “since when were you the mortal master?”
builderman snorts. “i’ve been demigod my whole existence. you only just became one.”
“just became?!” shedletsky gawks at builderman. “i’ve been a demi for centuries!”
builderman gives a small smirk. “but you were a full-blooded deity fer much longer.”
shedletsky rolls his eyes. “you're impossible.”
“mhm. now go grab a chair. i didn’t get to fix up those wings.”
“you’re making the injured man get up?” shedletsky pretends to be offended.
“yer impossible,” builderman mutters, but there’s a certain fondness in the way he says it.
“there’s a bucket in my bathroom,” shedletsky calls as builderman gets a chair. “and a rag.”
builderman silently slips into the bathroom. shedletsky can hear the sound of running water. despite how little he wants to, shedletsky pushes himself to his feet. he moves to get a chair, pausing when he sees blood on the ground next to the table. it’s already started to dry. he scowls. that’ll be a pain in his ass to clean later. he picks up his shirt from where it had been discarded on the ground, examining it for any damages. there’s no blood on it, thankfully, but shedletsky notes the small tears where his teeth had dug into it. he sighs, putting his shirt on the table. not like he can wear it right now anyways. maybe he can get chance to patch up the holes.
shedletsky grabs one of the two chairs, dragging it over to the bed. he sits on it backwards, resting his head on top of his arms on the back of the chair while he waits.
it doesn’t take long before builderman emerges from the bathroom with a bucket full of water. he raises his eyebrows a little at shedletsky. “what happen’d to makin’ the injured man move?”
shedletsky scoffs a little. “what, am i not allowed to make your life a little easier?”
“you act like movin’ a chair is the hardest task imaginable,” builderman grumbles, setting the bucket down next to the bed. “move yer big wing.”
shedletsky flicks his wing open, lightly hitting builderman in the chest. builderman has never looked more unamused. shedletsky smirks. “you told me to move it.”
builderman rolls his eyes, pushing shedletsky’s wing to the side. he ignores the pitiful owww shedletsky lets out. shedletsky can hear him settling onto the bed behind him. he stops moving, and then sighs. “we’re gonna be here a while.”
“is that an issue?” shedletsky turns his head to grin at builderman. “worried people are gonna think we’re smooching?”
builderman hits shedletsky in the face with the rag. shedletsky laughs a little. “didn’t know you abuse injured people!”
“swords,” builderman grumbles. “i don’ like you.”
“you lov-”
builderman pulls out a broken feather, causing shedletsky to cut himself off with a yelp. he snaps his head around to glare at builderman. “you did that on purpose, asshole.”
“don’t know what you mean,” builderman says.
he dips the rag into the water before pressing it against shedletsky’s back. he starts to scrub away the blood from the wounds shedletsky’s wings had made. the water is lukewarm, but at least it isn’t cold. it feels nice to get the crusted blood off. it helps him feel cleaner, a little less like a monster and a little more human.
builderman is careful around the freshly made wounds, being careful not to reopen the scabs. he’s gentle, taking his time. shedletsky isn’t used to being handled with so much care. he doesn’t know why that makes a bit of emotion clog his throat. it’s shameful, to be treated like a fragile thing. telamon would never allow this.
shedletsky pushes down the embarrassment with a huff. this isn’t shameful. it’s normal. clearly, telamon was missing out.
“everythin’ alright there?” builderman asks.
“what?” shedletsky turns his head slightly. “oh, yeah.”
“just makin’ sure i wasn’t hurtin’ you.”
shedletsky turns away before builderman can see him smile. “nah. you’re fine.”
builderman finishes cleaning the blood off of his back. he taps one of shedletsky’s wings. “this one first. spread it out.”
shedletsky does as he’s told. builderman starts by gently rubbing off the dried blood on shedletsky’s feathers. it feels nice against his sensory deprived wings.
after getting the feathers as clean as he could, builderman tosses the rag into the bucket. “where do you want me to start?”
shedletsky shifts. “start at the end.”
the bed creaks as builderman scooches to reach the ends of shedletsky’s wing easier. he places warm hands near the top. “gonna start now.”
shedletsky hums to let builderman know he heard. builderman’s fingers begin to methodically sort through shedletsky’s feathers, gently straightening out the crooked ones and softly tugging out the ones too broken to be saved. shedletsky closes his eyes, a small trill unintentionally rumbling from his throat. he immediately snaps back to awareness, praying builderman didn’t hear that.
builderman pauses for a moment. “barely even started and you’re already makin’ noise.”
“shut up,” shedletsky tries to sound indifferent, but he can tell builderman doesn’t fall for it. stupid perceptive builderman.
“you always get like this,” builderman mumbles, moreso to himself. “you don’t got to pretend around me, shed.”
shedletsky rests his head back on his arms. “let me try to save some of my dignity here.”
builderman huffs in amusement. “sure.”
builderman resumes the preening, working his way down to the flight feathers. shedletsky misses flying. maybe he should consider what builderman said. he frowns slightly. if only his wings didn’t tie him to a past he desperately wants to leave behind.
builderman must’ve noticed shedletsky’s wings drooping slightly, hands pausing again. shedletsky internally curses. he’s not used to having them out. he’s forgotten how expressive they are.
“it’ll be alright,” builderman quietly reassures. “no matter what, i’ll be by your side.”
shedletsky isn’t sure if he fully believes that, as much as he wants to. builderman doesn’t push him for a response, silently resuming his work. shedletsky likes that about builderman. he knows when to push, and when to let something be. sometimes it feels like builderman knows shedletsky better than shedletsky knows himself.
shedletsky wonders if he knows how much he appreciates builderman. words can’t quite describe it, but he tries. “you’re a good friend, builderman. i’m happy i know you.”
builderman hums in reply.
“i don’t know why i used to hate you,” shedletsky mumbles.
“'cuz you were a prick,” builderman bluntly replies. “glad you came around at least, you big sap.”
“i am not a sap.”
“whatever ye say.” builderman sounds too sarcastic for shedletsky’s liking.
“i take it back. i don’t like you.”
he can practically hear builderman smiling. “whatever ye say, princess.”
“swords.” it’s hard to sound angry while being preened, but shedletsky tries. “i’m not talking anymore.”
“fine wit’ me.”
builderman is getting too much amusement out of this. shedletsky bites his tongue to stop himself from replying, opting to get a bit more comfortable on the chair. it’s starting to dig into his arms.
builderman must’ve noticed him shifting. “need a cushion, princess?”
“oh, screw off,” shedletsky says, but doesn’t object when builderman hands him a pillow.
they lapse back into silence. builderman continues preening, the methodic task starting to make shedletsky’s head feel fuzzy. it doesn’t help that he has a more comfortable pillow to rest on, opposed to the hard wood of the chair. he hadn’t even noticed how tense he had been recently until his body starts to finally relax.
another happy noise rumbles from shedletsky’s throat. “you didn’t hear that,” he mumbles.
“hear what?” builderman asks, probably just to entertain shedletsky.
“exactly.”
it’s getting harder to keep his eyes open. builderman isn’t even close to finishing his first wing, and he’s already having to fight off the drowsiness. maybe builderman was right. of course he was right. when was he not? if he was in a clearer state of mind, shedletsky would probably get annoyed. not now, though.
shedletsky doesn’t notice the content sounds he’s making until builderman points it out. “ye sound happy.”
“feels good,” shedletsky murmurs, pushing his wing slightly into builderman’s hands.
“’m sure it does,” builderman softly replies. “you can rest now, shed. i’ll take care of ye.”
“th’nks,” shedletsky slurs.
he doesn’t fall asleep, exactly. it’s just hard to keep his eyes open, and he hasn’t felt this safe in a long while. there’s a smile on his face, one that isn’t forced for once. his purring is getting louder, more obvious, and if builderman didn’t hear it before he surely can now. shedletsky can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. he starts to doze, relishing in the feeling of builderman’s fingers sorting through his feathers.
it takes him a few seconds to notice when builderman stops. shedletsky raises his head slightly. “...wuh happened?”
builderman chuckles a little. “i finish’d that one.”
shedletsky slowly blinks, taking a few seconds to reply. “...oh.”
builderman pats his wings a few times. “ye can close it now.”
shedletsky folds his wing back up. it’s leagues more comfortable now, feathers no longer poking into each other. unfortunately, it makes the messy state of his other wing that much more noticeable.
it doesn’t take any prompting from builderman to get shedletsky’s other wing to open up. shedletsky whines something illegible when builderman doesn’t immediately start preening.
“be patient,” builderman lightly scolds. “th’ water’s cold now.”
“don’t care,” shedletsky grumbles.
“you sure?”
“...i don’ care.”
builderman laughs under his breath. “whatever makes ye happy.”
shedletsky jolts a little at the feeling of the cold rag being pressed against his wing, but he can tough it out. the anticipation of month old molts being removed is enough motivation for him to handle a little chill.
regardless, it doesn’t take very long for builderman to clean the blood off. his calloused hands gently help hold shedletsky’s wing up. he gets to work right away, shedletsky sighing happily. his body feels heavy and warm. he’s dozes off again, rumbling with contentment.
he isn’t sure how long it takes for builderman to finish. if anything, he thinks it’s too soon when builderman’s hands stop.
“we’re all done ‘ere,” builderman says. “i don’t quite feel like doin’ the inside of yer wings tonight.”
shedletsky groans. “...why?”
“hands are crampin’ up, sorry.” builderman doesn’t sound very apologetic.
shedletsky raises his head, stretching a little to relieve the cramps in his back. his bed sounds really comfortable right now. he scooches himself off the chair, turning and falling onto builderman in the same move. the other admin grunts. “god, you big fat bird- lemme go.”
“not gonna,” shedletsky murmurs into builderman’s jacket.
“shedletsky.”
“build’rman.” shedletsky giggles to himself.
“swords on the heights,” builderman grumbles. “‘least let me take my shoes an’ belt off.”
shedletsky doesn’t reply, but also doesn’t protest when builderman gently pushes him off. shedletsky grabs the pillow from the chair, dragging himself into a better position on the bed. he watches builderman take his jacket, belt, hat, and glasses off through half lidded eyes. he lifts a wing up, cooing in delight when builderman lays down under it.
“this bed ain’t big enough,” builderman mutters to himself.
shedletsky wraps his arms around builderman, pulling him closer. he buries his face into builderman's hair. “you’re warm.”
“so are you.” builderman’s voice vibrates against shedletsky’s neck.
they don't say anything else. they don't need to.
for once, sleep comes easy to shedletsky. there's no tossing and turning, no staring at the ceiling and overthinking. the last thing he remembers is pure happiness. the slightly ragged breathing of builderman against his chest lulls shedletsky into a deep sleep.