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Rocket really does try his best to not be a jealous individual.
Rocket's own mind scared him sometimes. Once a playgrounder, always a playgrounder. He had violent intrusive thoughts that comforted and unsettled him at the same time. Zuka would say that it was normal to have.
When he was sixteen, Rocket had told Zuka about his mind. A conversation that happened at 3:45 at night. Rocket could barely choke out his words without his throat closing up.
“It's not /normal/.” Rocket insisted, angry (?) tears in his eyes. “I shouldn't want to hurt people. Or think of how to make them upset the fastest. Or- any of this. just- fuck!" Rocket lashed his tail like an agitated feline." You shouldn't feel safe with me here. I could hurt you if I wanted. I really could. “
“You probably could.” Zuka shrugged. And he didn't know how to comfort Rocket, at least not in the way that a inphernal “should”. Zuka wasn't good at being normal, not after the war, and thus he didn't bother pretending. “But I know that you wouldn't.”
“How can /you/ tell?” Rocket sneered.
“I can smell ‘yer guilty consciousness from a mile away, kid. Even if I know that you smashed someone's skull in, I can tell you felt bad about it. In my eyes, that's what makes you redeemable.” Zuka raised his good arm in front of Rockets face. Rocket's eyes followed his movement, a slight hiss rising from his throat. “Honestly, you probably just got some nasty trauma response, or whatever. You're a nasty little feller, but I know that you don't have the heart to do evil.”
The shadow of Zukas hand covered Rockets face. He tensed, expecting a blow or a hit that never came. Instead, Zuka patted Rocket's head, messing up his hair. “See? Harmless.”
The therapist (that Zuka had threatened him to even agree to go too, and then bribed with car privileges to get him to actually talk with), an elderly Inphernal with a sniper gear, was more professional but not any less blunt then Zuka. Rocket kind of liked her for that. In times where Rocket was hysterical and paranoid, she'd tell him (in therapist speak) to shut the fuck up in a way that was grounding.
So ever since then, Rocket had some pills he took every morning that managed what medicine could be managed. The rest, far as Rocket was aware, had to be managed manually. A damn shame, really. Sure would've been nice if he could just pop some capsules and erase everything about himself he didn't like or no longer needed after leaving playground.
When it came to Sword, Rocket was terrified of knowingly or unknowingly dragging his bestest buddy down with him. Especially after they “got together”.
Well, not exactly. They clearly had something else going on that went beyond just friendship.
They were as together as “I spend all my money on this cute guy, and we also duo in first person shooters, even if he's, like, REALLY bad at them. We also have super hot sex sometimes.” could imply. Sword was pretty. Scratch that, he was absolutely gorgeous. Even if they hadn't TALKED about it, Rocket knew that Sword was his.
…But Rocket was hesitant to admit that. Because being Rockets couldn't be all that good.
Sword was kind. Rocket took one look at the guy and instantly knew he'd been loved his whole life, unlike Rocket. He was a pretty little flower (ignoring the fact Sword was considerably taller then Rocket) who just happened to be very strong (Rocket knew that first hand.) To be frank, there were times where Sword was simply so cute that Rocket wanted to kill himself.
But he couldn't do that, so he settled for the next best thing, that being clinging to Sword like a fly and leeching off his much more extroverted self during social situations.
Whenever they went out, Sword usually got attention. His outfit (especially the cape) was what attracted most of the attention, but Rocket knew that he was easy on the eyes, even if Sword was a little unaware. A strong looking and clearly well-trained Inphernal was sure to attract attention. His face was cute, and he was clearly muscled. Those tight ass pants Sword always wore, and the armour just framed his thighs and just further made him look absolutely delectable. It was completely understandable and also normal Rocket wanted to take a big bite out of him.
Now, in the dim light of the club, Rocket was tempted to do just that.
They were cuddled up in a booth near the corner. They were sitting on the same side, because it was chilly.
Now, Rocket didn't mind the booze, but he mostly came to this place because the food was good for a bar, and rather cheap, too. Sword always seemed happy enough. He always got stupidly joyful whenever Rocket took him to new places,even if he only ordered healthy crap. Plus, Rocket knew that if Sword got a little tipsy, he could possibly talk him into cuddling that night. Maybe he'd even let Rocket use his chest as a pillow.
“Gosh. It sure is cold in here.” Rocket sighed. He wrapped his arm around Sword's waist, pulling him in nice and close. Sword was always surprisingly warm despite hardly ever wearing PROPER clothes. “Do you mind?” Of course, it may or may not have been an excuse to cuddle up to Sword.
Sword chittered slightly, sipping his water up through the straw. He shook his head “no”. “Wow, is it really? I've barely noticed! I thought it was pretty warm in here.”
Rocket spoke without thinking; “Must be because you're hot, huh? “
Rocket cringed, but Sword smiled at him like he won the goddamn Olympics. It was always easy to impress him. “Really?!”
“Sure thing. You're dashing. Pretty. Uh.. “ Rocket struggled to remember more words. "You're cute, too.”
Sword chirped. His wings folded around Rocket, enveloping him warmth. It took everything in Rocket to not cuddle closer and violate any laws regarding public decency. Perhaps both. And, oh, Sword really was comfortable. It was. . . nice. Rocket was tempted to shut his eyes and nod off. Rocket shook his head- he was determined to stay awake. “So how's your day been? It's a little late to ask that, but, well.”
“Oh! Well, I've been good!” Sword jumped up. “Well, besides one thing.”
“Oh yeah?” Rocket stared at him.
“My wings need to be preened, I guess.” Sword said sheepishly.
“Oh. Right. It's like a custom for you winged guys to not let other people do it, isn't it?” Rocket frowned. “They look pretty clean to me.”
Swords face looked pink under the light. “It's..a personal thing. A /forever/ thing. Kind of like a wedding band, I suppose-? If I let one person preen them, nobody else would want to do it ever again.”
“Don't look so bummed out, man. I'm sure you'd have plenty of Inphernals willing to do that.” Had Sword ever seen himself? What, was he too busy training to go stare at his pretty face in a mirror? “Look at yourself! Lining up the streets just for a chance, I'm sure.”
Sword shook his head mournfully, like Rocket wasn't understanding something. “I don't want just anyone to do it, though. I want -”
“Heyyy, gorgeous.” Another Inphernal, the bittersweet stench of alcohol lingering on their breath, sauntered to their table. They leaned over Rocket, touching Swords shoulder. Rocket silently seethed at their audacity. “You look awfully strong, sweets. How long have you been training for?”
“Um." Sword looked between Rocket, who was practically pinned against the booth by the stranger, and the stranger themselves. “My whole life, I guess. My mentor taught me everything I know, actually! He-”
Rocket opened his mouth, and then he closed it.
Sword wasn't his. If he wasn't uncomfortable, who was Rocket to interfere? Sword could do so much better than Rocket. Not just that- he /deserved/ better. He tried his best to look away.
Static filled Rockets ears as the conversation drew on. Rocket was a vile, wretched thing. He the most vile and wretched man in the inpherno. Rocket knew this because whenever he looked at Sword, he wanted.. he wanted to do more then own him. He almost wanted to ruin him. Even though Rocket knew with every fiber of his being that Sword could do much better than being his, he wanted to pluck out all his feathers and keep all of Swords warmth just for himself.
“Hey.” Rocket shot them a glare. The metal of his prosthetic dug into their arm until they yelped in pain. Rocket wondered if it'd bruise, with a sort of guilty sense of glee. “Fuck off.”
They staggered back as if struck (weak. Wouldn't last a day in playground) and retreated back. Rocket sunk back against his chair with a sigh. Selfish. Selfish.
“Sorry, Sword. Fuck.” Rocket was a total failure. “I just -”
“It's okay.” Sword said sheepishly. “I wasn't feeling them anyways.”
“Not about that.” Rocket said. Sword looked at him, brows knitting in confusion.
“What do you mean?" And, oh, way the swordsman tilted his head like a confused puppy was almost enough to make Rocket swoon. Rocket wanted him bad. The need was unbearable now. But the consequences - No.
-Fuck the consequences, actually. Sword was more than worth it.
“Sword.” Rocket grabbed his hand. Rocket stared at his scarred up palms. Despite knowing he should do otherwise for Swords own sake, Rocket greedily held onto his Swords wrist. Sword was far too trusting. Rocket never wanted to let him go. “Let's leave.”
-
“Rocket!” Sword whined as Rocket dragged him through the halls of his apartment complex. Rocket was SO grateful that Zuka wasn't at the house right now. So very greatful. He'd be ashamed if his father could somehow overhear everything he - SFOTH willing that he gave consent - wanted to do to Sword.
Rocket didn't bother slowing down. In fact, he walked faster, practically dragging Sword, who let out several alarmed chirps. The hinges screamed in agony as Rocket wrenched his bedroom door wide open.
“Rocket-!” Swords cried his name as his back collided with the bed. Rocket laid sprawled down on top of him. Conflicted on what to do next, Rocket stared down at him with a torn expression.
Rocket stayed silent for miment more, and then he moved. Rocked leaned down, and then pressed his lips against Swords. The kiss had far more teeth and messy feelings than a regular kiss would entail.
A shameful whine came from Swords mouth as Rocket stuck his hands underneath his shirt. Rocket was acting much different then normal, and Sword certainly knew this.
Just when Rocket knew Sword would need to breathe, Rocket reluctantly broke off the kiss. A trail of saliva connected them both.
“Shirt. Off.”
“Whuh?” Sword suddenly found himself sitting up. He'd been so lost in the sauce that he must've not noticed Rocket manhandling him so. Swords talons were planted firmly on the ground as he sat on the edge of the bed. Opposite him was a vanity mirror that Zuka had found at the market.
Rocket crawled behind him. He placed his arms around his waist. Nuzzling into Swords neck, Rocket demanded for a second time; “Take your shirt off.”
Sword fiddled with his fingers. “. . .Why?”
“Just do it.”
Sword finally, /finally/ obliged. The cape was the first to go. It was swiftly unclipped and discarded. And then, finally, his shirt. Rocket helped remove it, because he was a gentleman- and totally not so he could get a few good squeezes in. Nope.
Swords warm, bare torso pressed against his stomach. Rockets hands slowly moved from Swords tummy, to his sides, and then to his lower back, making Sword warble.
“Your wings really are pretty, Sword.” Rocket said. For once, he was being completely earnest. “Exposing them like this, just for me.”
His hands moved to the base of Swords
wings as Sword trembled pitifully in his seat. Rocket's touch was light, teasing. Rocket gripped the base of his left Wing without warning. A full-body shudder wracked the warriors entire frame as he let out a quiet, pitiful moan.
“What's wrong, birdie?” Rocket grinned. “Pent up?”
“N-no!” Sword outright /whined/ in distress when Rocket moved his hands away. “M’not. It's not - not a /need/.”
“You sure?” Sword squirmed like he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to lean further into the touch, or if he wanted to flee.
“Yes! Yep! I'm sure! I'm so su- fuck!” Rocket cut him off by grabbing a fistful of feathers, and then softly tugging. Swords whimper tapered off into a full-blown wail, his hips blindly bucking up. “/Rocket-!/”
Rocket let go, not wanting to tear the feathers out. Sword sunk back into Rocket's grip. Rocket didn't miss the way his thighs clenched and unclenched.
“Sensitive?” Rocket grinned into Swords ear. Rocket craned his neck. If he angled himself correctly, he could make out Swords reflection in the mirror. Swords lips were slightly open, whines escaping him every so often. His cheeks were flush with desire, the faint outline of tears glimmering in his eyes. Ruined.
Rocket reached around around the warrior's body. He placed his hands on Swords admittedly rather sizeable chest. He teasingly traced his fingers around Swords nipples until they hardened into peaks.
“Be honest with me, Sword.” Rocket's voice was light. “If you wanted someone to preen you, why wouldn't you just ask me?”
“I just… I, uh, didn't think you'd want to.. You know?” Sword murmured.
“Of course I would. I wasn't lying when I said anyone would want to. What- did you think I only wanted you for your body, or something?” Rocket
“No!” Swords breath came out as a weak flutter. His hips made an upward motion, almost like he wanted to flee, but Rocket (thanking the heavens that those prosthetics medkit made made him stronger) firmly held him in place. Not like Sword would have the strength to leave, anyways. ”i-”
“Then what did you think?” Rocket punctuated each word with a tug. “You can't be fucked stupid /already/. I've barely touched you yet.”
And then, for emphasis, he grabbed Swords nipple between two fingers, and /pinched/. The effect was instantaneous. Sword gripped Rockets arms so hard that Rocket swore he heard the metal creak. His other arm, meanwhile, was scratched to hell and back by Swords talons as he whined and pathetically bucked his hips up into thin air.
“I dunno, I really don't-!” Sword choked out a pitiful sob that was cut off when Rocket did the same thing again, but with more force. “Please, Rocket! I don't - “ Another pinch.” - know- FUCK!”
Sword was always so joyous and happy. A sick part of Rocket always liked to see him cry. He was so strong, up until Rocket got to join him in the bed.
“You,.” Rocket hissed out. To puncuate his statement, he grabbed the base of Swords right wing. “Fuckin.”
“Rocket!” A faint trace of panic entered Sword's voice. He tried to jerk free , gasping. “Nonono, wait-!”
“Liar.” Rocket pulled his wing hard.
Two things happened.
First, Swords speech dissolved into a flurry of senseless babbling. He sobbed out some confusing statement that was an amalgamation of Rocket's name and some variation of “oh my sfoth”- or some prayer to them.
Second, alongside Sword crying out like he'd just gotten electrocuted, his back went completely straight. Rocket watched in wonder as every muscle in Swords body tensed up.
“Holy shit.” Rocket made a noise of wonder. He stared at the sizeable wet stain on the bed. “Did you just…?"
“No, shit, wait. I- didn't - ” Sword hiccuped. " Well I /did/, but I didn't /mean too/!”
Rocket couldn't help but snort. Eyes softening, he rubbed gentle circles into Sword's inner thigh.
“What are you doing…?” Swords mumble surprised him. Sword usually passed out when he was done. But here he was, trying to pry himself out of Rockets grip and turn to face him.
“I'm cleaning your ass up so you can take a nap.” Rocket blinked. “What are you doing?”
“I'm going to touch you.” Sword said, completely earnest, with a face so straight that Rocket didn't know if he was joking or telling the truth. He choked down a laugh either way.
“I- /what?/” Rocket half-grinned, half-gasped. "What are you talking about, featherbrain? Don't tell me you came so hard you shat your brains out.”
Rocket squeezed Swords cheek. Sword leaned into the touch. Now fully facing Rocket, he flushed. “I.. I want you!!!!"
“What?” Rocket was suddenly pushed back onto the bed. Sword straddled him. “Why are you so strong -?!” Rocket squeaked.
“I want you. Please.” Sword whined. “‘Need you. Please, Rocket? I wanna be yours so bad.”
Oh no. Oh nonononono. This was bad. Very, very bad. Rocket tried to push him off, but he found his hands pinned by Swords chest as he leaned down to lap desperately at his ear.
“You don't want this.” Rocket gasped. He bucked his hips up, hardness rubbing against Swords bare core. Sword whined pitifully. “This is, like, a /catastrophically/ bad idea. Do you know what I'd do to you if you have me the chance?”
“Go on a movie date?” Sword asked hopefully, as if they hadn't already done that and worse. As if Sword hadn't plowed Rocket until he cried into his sheets before. Whatever.
“No. Not just that.” Rocket brought Sword in closer. “I'd /ruin/ you. For anybody else. Forever and ever.” Rocket nipped gently at the base of Swords neck. “I'd steal you away before anybody better could show up, and ruin you before you could think to look at anybody else. I'd take every single one of your firsts. And everything after.”
One hand clasping Swords wrists, and the other placed firmly on his waist, Rocket ground up. Sword gasped as his swollen, aching clit rubbed against Rockets length through his boxers. ‘Poor baby’ Rocket thought, snickering as Sword gasped and chirped.
“You're not saying anything, Birdie. What's wrong? Is it not enough?” Rocket chirped. He reached down between Swords legs, which he spread wider without even needing to be asked. He found that throbbing bud and began to rub, in slow, lazy circles.
“Oh, fuck. You jackass, I just came!” Sword shuddered. His eyes rolled to the back of his skull, and then he buried his head in Rocket's neck as he whimpered pitifully. “Please don't stop.”
“Ask nicely.” Rocket, totally not a jackass, replied.
“Oh! Rocket, please -! Please, Rocket, SFOTH, please, I need more - I need - I need /you/, please please please please–!!!!!!”
Rocket appreciated how easy Sword was to manhandle when he was fucked stupid, because when Rocket decided flipped their positions, it was easy to get him onto his stomach. Sword continued to chirp as Rocket caged him in. Rocket ground his cock into his ass.
“Don't tease…" Sword whimpered. And yes, while a part of him that would've liked to see Sword get edged until he sobbed, Rocket wasn't known for his patience.
“Do you ever shut up?” Rocket hissed. He placed the head of his dick between Swords folds. Sword just whined harder. “Gods.”
“Whining for cock?” He yanked Swords head back by his hair. “Not very /pure/ of you.”
Rocket, groaning, began to insert himself inch by inch. Sword /wailed/, his claws tearing large holes into Rocket's favorite pillow. “Fuck! Mmmf, Ro- Rocket…!"
“See? Fucked absolutely /stupid/.” Rocket chuckled.
“Wh- no! No, m’not! I just-!” Rocket cut Sword off by taking his cock all the way out, until it was just the tip still inside. And then abruptly thrusting in. Extremely cruel, but also a funny way to cut Sword off. The immediate noise Sword let out had Rocket instantly speed up.
“That doesn't sound very convincing~” -SFOTh, was Sword /drooling/? “How good does it feel, Sword? Do you like having my cock inside you? Was it worth it?”
“So good! ‘S so good, Rocket-! Fuck, please don't stop! Faster, go faster-!!!” He babbled. Sword buried his face into the bedsheets, cotton from the torn-up pillows flying around the room due to Rockets movements.
It was a few more mere seconds when Sword laughed hysterically- “I can feel you so deep.
Oh -SFOTH, you're-” Sword chirped. “-Ruining me.”
“You probably wanted me ‘t do this. Fuckin’ slut.” Rocket growled. Swords lack of an answer was all Rocket needed. “Look at yourself in the damn mirror.”
Sword refused, shaking his head no as he stubbornly looked down. Brat. Rocket stuck his fingers into Sword's hair. With a sharp yank, he forced Swords head up, making him look at his face in the reflection.
“Look at you.” Rocket cooed. A particularly harsh thrust sent Sword reeling. “Ass in the air, wings preened, crying for my dick.”
“Mnoooo -!” Sword gasped. Not very coherent, mind you.
“I can't make out a single damn thing you're trying to yap about.” He gave Sword some grace, though- Rocket imagined it was quite hard to speak when you were getting fucked absolutely stupid into a mattress.
Guided purely by instinct (and a porno he'd seen), Rocket stuck his fingers in Sword's mouth. “Jesus. Sucking me in like a whore.” Rockets whore, he was tempted to add. “Have I been training you well?”
“I- eep!” Sword slurred, his voice cut off by another thrust. “Ah, ah-!” the poor thing couldn't even start a single sentence without getting cut off… If he was even capable of speaking at all, of course, with how determined Rocket was to fuck his brains out.
“See? Fucked absolutely stupid. Just for me.”
Rocket pulled Sword into his lap. It was, admittedly, more than a little awkward because of their height difference- but Rocket was determined to make the position happen.
“Mmfm - fuck-!” Sword scrambled for purchase. He hooked his arm around Rockets neck, whimpering. “Fuck, rocket, you're - you're so so /deep/.” That totally didn't feed Rocket's ego.
Rocket - Speaking of - growled, bit into the flesh of Swords shoulder, earning another squeak. He was getting closer to orgasm now, and didn't have as much energy to talk. Just looking at Swords face in the mirror, hearing his breathy whines, and staring at the slight bulge in his tummy was more then enough to have his cock twitch.
Rocket was certainly one greedy fuck, to think he could have someone as attractive as Sword. And yet he tried. Because Rocket loved him, as sappy and as boring as that probably sounded.
“Do you think anyone else can satisfy you like this, Sword?” Rocket let go of Sword's shoulder. He snapped his hips up again, making him cry- Rocket was putting on the best show he could, fighting his orgasm back with everything he could.
-And when Sword finally began to shake all over, his whimpers reaching a crescendo, Rocket knew it was time to bring it to an end.
“No! No!” Sword wailed."They cant! Fuck, Rocket, I'm- I'm close-”
“That's it.” Rocket panted. “You're /mine/. All mine, you hear? Takin me so- /fuck/ so fucking well. Nobody else can do this for you. Right? /right/?”
Rocket was desperate to hear Sword say it back. That he was Rockets. Or maybe he just really wanted confirmation that Sword truly didn't see him as a burden, and that he wouldn't leave when Rocket showed his true colors. Or, well, something awfully cringe like that.
“Yes! /yes/, SFOTH, yes! No- ah! Nobody, Rocket!” Swords screech cut him out of his self-loathing. “Please - ah! Shit! I - love - love you- ! I love you!!” Sword came just as he finished his confession, then went limp.
Love.
Sword loves him. Sword loves Rocket. Sword has been in love with Rocket, perhaps pitifully so.
His orgasm hit Rocket like an avalanche. It was messy, came by surprise, and coated his entire world in a sheet of white that stopped his everything from feeling quite real.
He didn't know what to feel, even as his cock pumped his load into Swords (surely sure by now) cunt. Rocket sunk back, like a pretty little puppet with it's strings cut.
Love.
Wasn't that a crazy sentiment?
What the hell did Rocket do to deserve this? He was a vile, /vile/ person. He surely had to be wickedly evil, to warrant being chased out of Playground if all places. Sword was unfathomably good, made of all things pure.
He distantly felt Sword pull himself off.
Good going. He was probably going to leave. Sword should leave - he should've left. Rocket didn't want him to go. Sword was too good for him. He'd find someone better, and then-
“Rocket?” A comforting weight settled on his chest. Sword looked at him, eyes wide in concern. “I- shit! Rocket, /love/, what /happened/?!”
Oh. Shit. Rocket hadn't even registered that he was crying.
His first instinct was to cover his eyes with his arm, but Sword went to wipe his tears before he could.
“I,” Rocket tried. “You-” His throat pathetically felt like it'd swell. His nose, too, felt clogged up, like how it usually did whenever he cried.
“Nonono, Rocket. It's okay! Pl- please don't cry! I don't know what I did, but I can fix it! Just tell me what I did wrong, and I'll do the best I can, okay?”
Rocket choked back a sob. Sword was too nice, and it, quite frankly, pissed him off. “You said you love me.” Rocket said, a whisper.
“Is that.. A bad thing?”
“I can't - you-” Rocket pled."I'll - I'll ruin you.”
“That's fine.” Sword chirped. "I don't want to be with anybody else.”
“I've hurt people before. I'll do it again. I'll do something that makes you angry, or /ill/ get angry. I'll keep doing dumb stup- stupid shit without realizing.”
“Yeah.” Sword agreed. "Probably. You are really impulsive.”
“And I'll hurt you-”
“Woah there.” Sword cut him off. "Do you think I'm some frail maiden, Rocket? I promise that I can defend myself. I'm also like like twice your size. You've never done anything I haven't wanted. And you've never hurt my feelings, or anything. You're not broken, and you're definitely not some creep. I really, /really/ like you!”
“But-”
“Nuh uh. Dude. Buddy-” Rocket broke out of his depressed haze to glare at Sword for having the audacity to call him ‘buddy’, as if he hadn't just came in him- "Love. Look at me.”
Kiss. “I love you,” Sword murmured, kissing his forehead. Because he wanted to make sure Rocket heard, he said it again; “So much.”, then kissed his nose. And because he was desperate for Rocket to Understand, he did it again. And a fourth time, until his entire face had been covered in kisses.
“My nose is s’fucking stuffy.” Rocket grumbled. He wrapped his arms around Swords body. Sword let out another giggle, pressing another kiss to his chin. “You're gonna crush me, you big bird.”
“Don't call me fat. We just had intercourse. It's rude.” Sword murmured sleepily, pressing his head into Rocket's shoulder. “Can we take a nap?”
“You'll crush me to death.” Rocket deadpanned. “But sure. You're helping me to change my sheets after.”
He pinched Sword's cheek, just to hear the bird sleepily whine. And to be honest, Rocket was tired too. His post-coital breakdown had really taken a toll. Getting crushed to death by Sword sounded pretty nice. Sword was warm, and his weight grounded him as his .
Oh- Forever? When Sword was involved, It had a nice ring to it.
With that pleasant thought floating around in his head, Rocket fell asleep, mind finally brought to peace by the sound of Sword's happy chirps.
BONUS
“Hey, Sword."
Sword chirped. He looked up from his sandwich, meeting Medkits gaze. "Meds! What's up?”
“Your wings.” Medkit pointed out. The tips were dyed blue.
“Rocket did it for me, actually! I wanted to get rings, but he said that he wanted to wait so he could propose and get nice ones. So I asked him to dye my feathers. Basically the same thing.” Sword took another bite from his sandwich. “This is yummy. What's in it?”
“Salami.” Medkit paused. “..Is that so? Finally got what you wanted, didn't you?” Medkit sighed.
“Hehe. . .” Sword scratched his head. “I've been hinting at it for ages.”
“Good for you both.” Medkit passed Sword another sandwich,which he took with a grin. Medkit still wanted to think that his little brother was a growing child, and not a whole-ass adult.
“Also. Meds..."
“Hmm?”
“. .. You'll be my best man, right?”
It dawned to Medkit, with some horror, that he'd actually have to save up and buy a wedding gift. Fuck his stupid Medkit life.
. . . At least Sword was happy.
“Of course.” Medkit nodded.