My Writetober 2020

Day 26: Feathers

Okay I'll be honest, this is just straight up tooth-rotting fluff. It can be interpreted as both platonic and shippy, but the goal was just to cram a lot of fluff into this. I have no clue why I wanted to do this, all I know is that my brain imagined a happy Grian curled up on someone's lap as they run their fingers through his wings and-

Yeah I blacked out and woke up with this.

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Grian sighed, resting his head on his hands. The seasons were changing, winter on the horizon. This time of years always made him restless, his wings aching to take off and fly south as shivers started taking over his body. He always got colder much quicker than the other hermits, birds weren't meant to be in the cold.

He was already shivering, but he patiently waited for his friends to arrive. Iskall and Mumbo had insisted on the tradition they had after Grian had caught a bad cold a couple years ago, and Grian was eternally thankful.

He perked up when he saw the two come into sight, both carrying blankets. They glided down on their elytra, landing smoothly. Grian ran forwards and caught them in a hug, almost knocking Mumbo over.

"Aw, we love you too." Iskall chuckled. The three ducked inside Grian's mansion, walking into a side room that Grian had already somewhat set up. Pillows padded the floor, chairs and couple tables readly for blankets to be draped over them. The blankets Grian did have were pushed together in a nest shape, which Grian plopped down in with a happy chirp.

Iskall started draping the blankets he and Mumbo had brought over the furniture, creating a perfect pillow fort. Mumbo on the other hand put a movie on in the background before sitting down next to Grian.

The tradition was simple: Once winter came, Grian would start sleeping in his "nest room" which Iskall and Mumbo always helped set up. Mumbo and Iskall usually stayed with him the first few nights to help him adapt to the cold. The tradition was originally Iskall's idea, who'd dragged Mumbo into it when Grian had caught that cold.

Iskall finished the fort and sat down next to Mumbo. Grian then lied down on their laps, his head on Iskall's and his torso on Mumbo's.

He was cold, but being so close to the two always warmed him up. It was dark outside, most hermits in their beds, probably fast asleep. It was just Iskall, Mumbo, and him, alone with the sounds of the jungle outside.

Fingers started carding through his hair, Iskall murmuring a lullaby in swedish. Mumbo started running his fingers through Grian wings, carefully lulling him to sleep. A few quiet chirps escaped Grian as he relaxed into their hold. He was warm, very warm.

Sleep started to envelop him, Grian finally relaxing as Mumbo continued to stroke his wings. 

Finally, he felt himself drift off, floating in the abyss of sleep.