Chapter Text
1
Being a hybrid came with plenty of baggage.
Now, Grian would usually be considering the hoops he jumped through every day to avoid being discovered as a hybrid living illegally in the over-city because he really didn't want to get chucked down the nearest gutter for having wings. Which, honestly, was rather an irony, wasn't it?
Yes, usually, Grian would bemoan having to suffer sweltering temperatures in heavy sweaters and coats to hide his wings, and just claim he 'always ran a little chilly', or the headaches he'd have stabbing at him by the end of most days from keeping his glamour over his tiny sets of wings. There was also the extra set of problems that'd come up after he'd debuted as an illegal vigilante who'd picked up the nickname 'Cute Guy' which made Grian want to cry and his sister and cousin laugh hysterically.
Those problems were a lot to put up with, too!
Really, he was a tenure track professor moonlighting as a super-hero in pink heels and thigh highs, what was he doing?
But no, in fact, it was none of these myriad problems that was currently driving Grian up a wall on this fine mid-morning.
He'd just finished teaching his lecture, and Scar had already been in the break room. Sitting on the table was a familiar beaten up red cookie tin, and as Grian entered Scar looked to the door.
"Hey, good morning!" He greeted.
Not again.
But there were already two mugs of coffee set on the counter.
"Scar, you don't have to keep making my coffee for me." Grian said, walking over.
Scar just beamed at him.
Tanned skin further juxtaposed with the darker scars over his nose and above one eye. Another also crept from the back of his strong jawline down his neck, and a few more made appearances on his hands. Other than that, the rest was concealed beneath his clothes. Black slacks, sneakers, and a fitted teal turtleneck under a white jacket. His long dark brown hair settled down the back of his neck, and long bangs folded over his forehead and shaded brilliant green eyes.
"I'm making it anyway, and I know you'll want one!" Scar replied to his words. Grian sighed and took the offered mug from his friend, then walked over to the table. He dropped his messy stack of papers onto the surface, and looked at the cookie tin.
"And the cookies?" He asked pointedly.
It had all started several years back, pretty early into Grian's tenure track hiring. Back then, he'd kept very firmly to himself, mainly out of fear that if he grew too close to anyone, he'd be discovered. Pearl and Jimmy had similar issues. Grian knew Jimmy didn't have a single decent friend at his news agency despite working there almost ten years. Pearl worked at a smaller agency, but she also remained rather tight-lipped about her social interactions. It was just how things had to be. Hybrids were illegal in the over-city, Grian even standing here could be life-threatening, and yet here he stood.
Staring down at a tin of cookies.
Because years ago, when he'd been hired, Scar had made him a box of chocolate chip cookies as a welcome gift. Grian, with all the social grace of a grumpy porcupine with a stomachache, already buried in research and lecture grading, had snapped that he didn't like chocolate.
Which was false, Grian had enjoyed chocolate the one time he had eaten it. Y'know, until he'd nearly had a stroke because the stuff made his avian heart rate spike drastically, and he'd been stuck bouncing off the walls of his apartment feeling sick for nearly two days because it was patently impossible to sleep with your heart racing like you'd just flown seven laps around town.
Grian still remembered the shocked expression on Scar's face, before he'd gone off, and he'd assumed that'd be the last of that.
The next week, Scar had come by his office with the same cookie tin, this time full of snickerdoodle's.
I wonder if that was it? Did he really get me that early?
He considered as he picked up the cookie tin, this time seeing some kind of fluffy, almost cake-like, icing coated cookies inside.
Scar rolled over with his own mug of coffee, taking up his usual spot at the head of the table, which was always left clear for him.
"What do you mean 'and the cookies?' Where else am I gonna find another captive taste tester for all my creations? Even if that taste tester doesn't like chocolate!"
Grian tried to make his eye roll seem irate, but a smile was budding on his face regardless.
"Yeah, I suppose. What're these ones?"
He sat down in his usual chair, shoving some of his papers aside to pull the tin closer. Eyes running over the curvy, scribbled, half cursive half chick-scratch letters along the top, above the see-though plastic window.
Grian
So maybe he didn't pay as close attention to Scar's exuberant explanation about the lemon marscapone cookies that he'd been inspired to give a try while watching some baking show in the background as he was grading at home. How apparently the first batch of icing had been ruined because Jellie had gotten her paws on it, but luckily it wasn't anything dangerous to cats.
Ok, maybe he paid better attention then he thought.
But buzzing in the back of his mind was the idea that Scar made it a priority to bake him a new batch of cookies every week. He kept track of Grian's favorites and made them more often, he eagerly presented him with his new creates, and all the while ensured Grian always had a hot mug of coffee waiting for him when he came to the break room at their usual time each day. He kept a special cookie tin, even labeled with the avians name, and made sure it got filled up with new homemade baked goods every week, week in and week out.
He doesn't know. He doesn't.
This was the hybrid specific thing that'd been prodding Grian rather pointedly for years now.
Pretty much all hybrids had specific courting rituals that stemmed from the animalistic sides of their nature. It was perfectly normal. It would be certain little things, different small gestures that were expected to be performed by someone seeking courtship. If you were trying to get with someone who wasn't of the same branch as you, or if you were a mutant who had eyes for a hybrid, it was only polite to learn what the expected courting rituals were and try to follow through on them if possible.
Grian had lived the first sixteen years of his life in the under-city, he'd seen these rituals play out plenty of times before, and of course he knew what those rituals were when it applied to the avians.
Providing food and warmth.
Could've been buying food or gifting a warm scarf or a hot drink. Doing so consistently could be taken as intention to pursue.
Even more meaningful and intentional would be preparing those items yourself.
Thankfully Grian was pretty sure Scar wasn't going to take up knitting anytime soon or else he'd really be doomed.
Yet here it was, this little box that made it evidently clear that providing Grian with something sweet to snack on for the week, every week, was a priority to Scar. As was getting to the break room a few minutes before him to have the coffee already brewing as he arrived.
But he loves baking, it's his hobby to relax, and he's gotta pawn his excess cookies off on someone. He's a nice guy, and he drinks coffee at the same time as I do anyway, so he's just being polite. Just being friendly. Because Scar is my friend.
Grian tried to convince himself as he stared down at the cookie tin.
"You gonna try one?"
The brunette looked up and met with those brilliant emerald eyes. Scar had one elbow perched on the table, his coffee mug in his other hand, resting against his thigh. His smile was warm and gave Grian a fuzzy burst through his chest. His glamor was up, so no one could see it, but he felt the wings on his head flitting upward and fluffing with delight.
Stupid things.
He cursed, resisting the urge to reach up and yank them back down, because that'd just look odd.
He popped the cookie tin open and took a cookie out. Soft and lemony, a bit crumbly in the center, and the icing was sweet and bright.
His eyes lit up, and he lowered the other half of the cookie with a smile.
"These are fantastic, Scar! One of your best yet." He declared.
"Yeah? I'll put them on the circuit then." Scar seemed pleased Grian enjoyed the food, and the avian continued the nibble on the cookie as that usual giddy feeling welled up in his chest.
He'd let himself pretend Scar was doing this in pursuit, just for a few seconds. There couldn't be any harm in that.