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Jimmy has always been easily flustered, and Tango can’t deny he likes to take advantage of it.
Since the moment they moved in together, he and Jimmy have been thick as thieves, and Tango realized pretty quickly how entertaining it is to get Jimmy riled up. He’s not the only one, either- every single one of their friends has pegged Jimmy as the Top Most Teasable Person.
Jimmy fucking hates it, but at the end of the day, he knows it’s all in good fun.
Doesn’t mean he doesn’t complain, though.
“Scott, stop!” Jimmy cries, failing to stifle his giggles with exasperation.
“Whaaat?” Scott drawls. “Are you not a pretty boy? Pretty bird? Angel?”
Jimmy groans and hides his burning red cheeks with his hands. Scott grins fiendishly from next to Jimmy on the couch. Tango watches them from the kitchen and just laughs.
“You’re the worst,” Jimmy complains. He peeks out at Tango, glaring. “And you’re not helping!”
Tango feigns a look of shock and confusion. “Who, me? I’ve done nothing, nothing at all, no sir!”
Jimmy continues to glare at him and Tango ignores it, focusing instead on hiding all evidence of the toast he’s just burnt to a crisp. Not that Scott and Jimmy can’t smell it, surely they can, but neither of them have mentioned it yet and Tango doesn’t want to give them the chance.
Across the house, the front door opens. Martyn trudges in with a dramatic sigh and peels off his boots, leaving them haphazardly in the entryway as he beelines for the couch.
Tango laughs as Martyn drapes himself over Scott and Jimmy’s laps, making them squawk.
“What’s up, birdbrain?” Martyn says, poking Jimmy’s cheek.
Jimmy’s golden wings flare out in frustration. “Why am I always birdbrain?!”
Martyn grins. “Because Scott’s an angel.”
“Awwww, hush, you,” Scott coos back, his silvery white wings folded neatly against his spine. He glances sidelong at Jimmy, who is now pouting, and he and Martyn burst into laughter.
Scott and Jimmy are both avians, and have known each other for far longer than Tango or Martyn have known either of them. Tango has sometimes wondered if he should tell Martyn to cool it on the “birdbrain” namecalling, but Jimmy never seems truly insulted, so Tango lets it slide.
Martyn’s known Jimmy longer than he has, anyway- has known them both longer than he has. Tango turns back to his toast, aching a bit from watching the three of them squabble.
Since the moment they moved in together, he and Jimmy have been thick as thieves, but Scott and Martyn remain an arm’s length away from Tango even after months of cohabitation. There’s an invisible line between them that Tango just can’t bring himself to cross.
“Tango! Tango, help!” Jimmy cries, almost choking on his words.
Tango looks back to find Scott and Martyn curled over Jimmy, fingers digging into his sides and his armpits and anywhere else they can reach. Jimmy’s wings are flailing behind the couch and Jimmy himself is wheezing, his laughter drowned out by his continued cries for mercy.
Jimmy makes direct eye contact with Tango, and there’s desperation in his eyes, so Tango sets aside the faintly smoking toaster and hurries to Jimmy’s side.
Scott and Martyn stop tickling Jimmy as Tango approaches, though they continue pinning him to the back of the couch, gazing at Tango questioningly. Wondering if he’s going to stop them.
On another day, maybe he would. But Jimmy isn’t that desperate yet.
“Y’know,” Tango says, “his stomach is way more ticklish than his sides.”
Jimmy’s face falls, and genuine betrayal flashes in his eyes. Tango feels no remorse. His smile matches Scott and Martyn’s wolfish grins as the three of them descend on Jimmy once again.
Jimmy screams in fake agony, his laughter quickly breaking through. Tango attacks Jimmy’s stomach mercilessly with his fingers and Jimmy squirms against the couch cushions. Jimmy never tries too hard to push them back, his hands lingering against Tango’s chest.
Finally, they leave Jimmy be, all four of them wheezing with laughter. Jimmy slumps against the couch and heaves for breath, his body trembling faintly from exertion.
“You guys,” he huffs, “fucking suck.”
Martyn hums thoughtfully. “We totally could, y’know.”
Jimmy screams again, this time in genuine agony.
Tango laughs along with Scott and Martyn, ignoring the uncomfortable heat in his chest.
“I can’t believe them sometimes,” Jimmy says, collapsing onto a bale of hay.
Tango huffs as he tosses another bale onto the stack in the corner of their barn. When he turns around, Jimmy is splayed across another hay bale, wings dragging on the floor.
“Can’t believe what this time?” Tango asks.
“It’s just- the pet names!” Jimmy cries. “It was bad enough when it was just Scott, but now Scott ‘n Martyn gang up on me! And they never stop!”
‘I mean, do you want them to stop?”
Jimmy stares at the ceiling, considering. His wings twitch along the floor, sweeping through bits of straw and hay, and Tango follows the movements with his eyes. He’s always thought Jimmy’s wings were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen- shimmering gold that catches the light just right.
Scott’s wings are gorgeous too, of course. Tango just isn’t sure how to say that to him.
“I don’t want them to stop,” Jimmy admits. He sounds upset by the revelation.”But I feel pathetic getting all freaked out by it! Nothing I say ever makes them blush!”
“I think you gotta just accept it, Jim,” Tango says, fully entertained by Jimmy’s spiral. “Scott and Martyn just aren’t the flustered types, y’know?”
“Yeah, I know…”
Jimmy continues to pout, so Tango returns to stacking hay bales. Jimmy’s just picking himself up again by the time Tango’s done, and Tango waves off his apologies for not helping more.
They walk back toward the house together, Jimmy’s wing draped over Tango’s shoulders.
“You ever feel like they’re too good for us?” Jimmy asks.
Tango gives an awkward laugh. “Sometimes.”
They’re just too good for me, goes unsaid. Tango can’t bring himself to admit the thought aloud.
Jimmy glances over Tango’s face, as if searching for something in his expression. Tango raises an eyebrow at him. After a moment, Jimmy smiles, small and hesitant.
Jimmy curls his wing around Tango and pulls him close against his side.
They don’t talk about their insecurities any more, and Tango breathes a sigh of relief.
Scott and Jimmy have been friends most of their lives, and have been on-again-off-again lovers for at least half that time. Martyn and Jimmy were friends years before Martyn and Scott dated.
Tango is new to them, new to this. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
He and Jimmy had become roommates-turned-lovers during one of the in-betweens of Jimmy and Scott’s relationship, and he’d known from the beginning that by dating Jimmy, he was caught in the web of Jimmy, Scott and Martyn’s polycule. No- that’s a strange way of putting it.
Tango had known from the beginning that in dating Jimmy, he’d be dating Scott and Martyn, too.
But it’s never really felt like he was, and it’s all Tango’s fault.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
Scott and Martyn are enigmas to him- Skizz is the only friend he’s ever had who showed such clear and consistent confidence, and none of Tango’s friends have ever been so flirtatious . Scott and Martyn are natural flirts, always shooting back-and-forth at one another or cornering Jimmy to peg him with terrible pick-up lines until he’s a flustered mess on the floor.
Tango has always thought it entertaining, the way they rile Jimmy up. He likes watching the two of them dote on him, even as Jimmy loudly complains (but never tries to run).
Tango has always loved seeing how loved Jimmy is.
But sometimes, in moments Tango will never admit even to Jimmy, Tango feels a little jealous.
He doesn’t know where he stands with Scott and Martyn, and he knows it’s his own fault for not taking that step forward to ask. But every time he thinks about approaching them, his stomach twists and turns and anxiety boils so hot in his gut that the flares in his hair almost go out.
Tango is scared. Scared of confrontation, scared of change. It’s all his fault.
But the jealousy never lasts long, the ache in his chest quickly fading. Tango is happy here, with Jimmy and Scott and Martyn- happy just the way they are. He doesn’t need anything more.
He doesn’t need anything more than they can give.
The first time Scott flirts with him, Tango doesn’t even know it’s happening until it's over.
Their household has a system for shared meals, with Scott and Jimmy cooking every other day, Tango cooking on the weekends, and Martyn banned from the kitchen entirely.
It’s Tango’s turn to cook tonight, and though no one ever says it, he swears they assigned him to weekends so that emergency takeout was always available in case of an emergency.
Scott offering to help Tango make dinner only seems to affirm that suspicion.
“Here,” Scott says, sliding him a pile of minced vegetables. “Do you want them any smaller?”
Tango assures him they’re fine and scoops the pile into his hands, then dumps them into the pot of beef broth heating on the stove. Stew is a pretty basic meal, but it's one of the few that Tango feels he can’t fuck up, and the others have yet to complain about how often he makes it.
Even so, Tango is anxious. Last weekend's blackened garlic toast has tanked his confidence in cooking, and as nice as it is to have help, Tango feels a little bit like a lost child.
“Do you think I should add anything else? I’m worried it’ll be bland,” Tango asks.
Scott peeks over his shoulder into the pot, which is simmering low. They’ve got chunks of beef, chopped vegetables and herbs from their garden, and milk mixed into the beef broth. Tango stirs the pot and watches the swirling ingredients, tail whipping nervously across the floor.
“You could add more if you want to, but I think you’ve got everything important.” Scott says.
Tango sighs. “I know, I just want it to be really good…”
Scott lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Tango jolts. Tango turns to look at him, and Scott’s smile is so overly fond that Tango feels his anxiety begin to dissipate.
“You’ve got this, love. Stop worrying so much.” Scott says with a wink.
Tango turns back to his stew and watches it simmer, feeling just a little bit more confident.
Tango has almost finished cleaning up when he registers the pet name, and by then Scott is long gone. Tango’s cheeks burn several degrees hotter than usual and his hair spits sparks toward the ceiling that he frantically waves away with his hand.
Love.
Scott called him love.
It had to be a mistake, Tango tells himself. Scott’s just like that. He’s a little flirty with everyone, he only said it to comfort Tango. It was probably just a one-time thing.
It’s never going to happen again.
Except… it keeps happening.
Tango hardly even notices the first few times Scott calls him something other than his name- love or dear or darling . He’s so used to hearing the endearments showered upon Jimmy at every waking moment that it takes Tango half a second to realize they’re being spoken to him.
Once he does take notice, though, Tango can’t stop hearing them.
Because Scott does it all the time.
“Here’s those gloves I said I’d make you, love. They’re fireproof, I promise.”
“Do you mind if I handle the garlic toast this time, dear?”
“Tango, darling , that redstone won’t fix itself no matter how long you stare at it.”
It’s overwhelming. Each and every time, Tango feels his hair flickering and shooting sparks every which way, feels his chest burning, his heart racing, his fingers twitching nervously.
Tango never calls Scott out on it, and Scott seems oblivious to what the pet names do to him.
Tango can’t help it- he’s embarrassed, because he really, really likes them.
Jimmy has always been open about his tumultuous relationship with Scott and Martyn, and he’s told Tango in great detail how it feels when they flirt with him. Tango knows about the butterflies, the tingles, the heat. He knows that the flirting and compliments make Jimmy feel loved.
Tango had never considered how loved they would make him feel.
He doesn’t want to think about the implications.
As the compliments become more and more commonplace, the butterflies in Tango’s stomach morph into a dull ache that never leaves. It can’t be genuine, the compliments. This might be a polycule, but that isn’t the kind of relationship he and Scott have. They aren’t in love.
The obvious conclusion, then, is that the compliments are out of pity.
The more Tango convinces himself of that, the stronger the ache in his heart becomes.
Tango’s almost asleep, curled up in a ball beneath Jimmy’s golden wing, when he feels Jimmy shuffling around. His feathers twitch above Tango and the mattress dips slightly as Jimmy shifts so that his head is facing Tango instead of away from him.
“Tango?” Jimmy whispers. “You still awake?”
Tango is too tired to open his eyes, but he forces out a hum of acknowledgement.
Jimmy sighs lightly. “Are you feelin’ alright lately? You’ve seemed a little out of it.”
Tango brushes aside the sleep tugging at him and opens his eyes. Jimmy’s blue eyes flicker with the warm light from Tango’s hair, burning low like embers when he sleeps.
“What do you mean?” Tango asks.
“Well… you just seem a little sad lately, is all. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, but I didn’t wanna put you on the spot with Scott ‘n Martyn around, y’know?”
Tango feels mixed emotions, hearing that- relief and guilt swirling like the world’s worst cocktail in his brain. He wants to be more open with Scott and Martyn, he really does. They’re together, after all. But Tango can’t seem to shake the perspective of an observer, an outsider.
Tango is always on the outside, looking in on Scott and Martyn’s love for Jimmy.
Maybe he’s not cut out for this polycule business.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Jimmy asks, quiet and almost pleading.
Guilt is a crushing weight in Tango’s chest, because he does know he can tell Jimmy anything, and that Jimmy will never judge him for it. Tango trusts Jimmy, wholeheartedly.
But Tango can’t bring himself to open up to Jimmy. Not about this.
Because no matter how much he trusts Jimmy, and no matter how accepting Jimmy might be, Tango is afraid that if he admits how unqualified he feels, Jimmy will realize he’s right.
And nothing terrifies Tango more than losing Jimmy.
So Tango smiles weakly, and shuffles a little closer, pressing against Jimmy’s side and resting his forehead against Jimmy’s crossed arms. He can feel Jimmy’s breath against his hair.
“I know I can,” Tango lies. “It’s nothing, I promise. I’ve just been… tired.”
Jimmy hums in response. Tango can’t tell if Jimmy believes him, but sleep is tugging at him, and Tango lets his eyes flutter shut. As he floats back toward the edge of unconsciousness, Jimmy shuffles close and presses a kiss into the warm flames of Tango’s hair.
“I love you,” Jimmy whispers.
Sleep takes Tango before he can say it back.
“What’s up, hot stuff?” Martyn calls.
No, Tango thinks to himself. Not more.
Martyn leans against the back of Tango’s chair and peers over his shoulder, taking in the mess of redstone dust and components strewn across the workbench. Tango feels tension curling up his spine and his fingers begin to fidget nervously with the wrench he’s holding.
“Oh, uh, nothing much right now,” Tango says. “Just trying to fix the door alarm.”
“So that’s why no one said hello when I walked in! I thought it was working fine yesterday?”
“Oh- it was, I just. I guess I’m more improving it than fixing it?”
Martyn hums, leaning in a little closer over Tango’s shoulder. Tango can feel Martyn’s hair tickling his neck. “Look at you, always working so hard. We’d be in shambles without you.”
Tango smiles nervously, unsure whether to take Martyn’s comment as a compliment or a subtle jab at his inability to sit still. Even after this long, Tango can never quite tell when Martyn’s joking.
“Well,” Martyn huffs, pulling away and finally giving Tango enough space to breathe. “I’m gonna go find Tim and see what he’s up to. See you at dinner?”
Tango barely has time to mumble a hesitant yeah before Martyn has swept back out of the room, calling through the house for Jimmy. Tango looks down at the door alarm, his motivation shot.
First Scott. Now Martyn. Tango doesn’t know what to do.
Are they making fun of him? Surely not- they might be teases, but Tango’s never seen them be truly mean. Not to anyone he knows, at least. Even when Martyn’s crude jokes set anxiety stirring in Tango’s gut, he’s never truly felt like Martyn had it out for him.
But why, then? Why do they keep flirting with him?
And why does it hurt so much?
Tango sweeps the scattered redstone dust back into its jar and sets the door alarm project aside for another day. There’s no way he’s going to be able to focus on it like this.
He can hear Martyn’s maniacal laughter spilling down from upstairs, followed by Jimmy’s frantic, incomprehensible screeching. Tango heads toward the sound, forcing a smile onto his face.
It all culminates when Jimmy is away for the evening, visiting his sister and her husband. Tango had hoped Scott and Martyn might go out together, to visit friends or go on a date or something.
Instead, they propose a movie night, and Tango hasn’t the strength to refuse.
Tango somehow ends up sandwiched between Scott and Martyn on their ratty old couch, Scott’s wing spread out comfortably over the three of them. Tango sits with his hands in his lap, picking at the skin around his cuticles, desperately wishing Jimmy were here to mediate.
Mediate what? Tango doesn’t know, but he’s nervous as fuck, and he’s sure he’s showing it.
Scott and Martyn don’t seem to notice, too busy chatting idly over Tango’s lap as they attempt to get the movie started. Scott skips through the previews, and they all fall silent.
As the movie continues, Tango finds himself relaxing, the familiarity of the story and characters pulling him out of his thoughts. Scott and Martyn make quiet comments here and there, but they know it’s a movie Tango loves, and neither of them ever pressure him for a response.
They’re halfway through the movie before Tango even suspects they chose it on purpose.
Tango’s anxiety has dissipated entirely by the time the credits roll, even though Martyn’s arm has snuck around his shoulders and Scott’s leg is pressed close to Tango’s.
“You’re so warm,” Martyn says, shuffling closer against Tango’s side. “Like a personal heater.”
“It’s nice, right? Our very own personal space heater,” Scott adds.
Just like that, the moment is broken. Tango’s stomach twists and turns painfully, and this time, his discomfort is noticed immediately. Scott and Martyn both sit back a few inches.
“What’s wrong, love?” Scott asks, so gently it hurts.
Tango fidgets restlessly. “It’s just… you guys don’t have to keep doing that,” he mumbles.
Scott and Martyn both look at him with quizzical expressions. “Doing what?”
“Flirting.”
Instantly, the energy in the room changes. Scott and Martyn’s expressions fall, concern and guilt and hesitation swirling in their eyes. Tango begins to deflate and curl in on himself.
He’s ruined it. He’s ruined everything, he shouldn’t have said anything, he’s ruining everything-
“Tango, do you know why we compliment Jimmy so much?” Scott asks.
Tango blinks dumbly. “Huh?”
Scott just tilts his head questioningly, a deceptively innocent smile on his face. Or maybe it’s just a smile. Tango doesn’t know, but anxiety is crawling up his throat, threatening to burst.
“Oh, uh- because-”
“Because it’s adorable to see him flustered,” Martyn supplies.
Scott smacks Martyn with his wing and Martyn chokes, but his expression immediately softens when he catches sight of Scott’s frown. The two of them look at Tango, and Tango quivers under their twin stares, suddenly very, very afraid of what they’re going to say.
“We compliment Jimmy because we love him,” Scott says, the words slow and weighted.
“And by that logic,” Martyn adds grandly, “we compliment you because we love you, too.”
It hits Tango like a freight train.
Oh, I’ve been such an idiot.
Tango is crying before he can stop himself. He hides his face in his hands and curls as small as he can, trying in vain to melt into the couch cushions.
Tango can feel Scott and Martyn hovering. He takes a desperate, shaking breath.
“I didn’t know.”
A hand runs through Tango’s hair, heedless of the sparks Tango knows must be coming off him. Tango peeks through his fingers and finds Scott smiling fondly at him.
“Tango, we wouldn’t have agreed to date you if we didn’t love you,” he says.
Martyn laughs, almost mockingly. “What, did you think we were only here for Timmy?! ”
Tango says nothing. Scott glares at Martyn, and Martyn deflates.
“Gee, mate,” he mumbles, full of guilt. “We’d have said something if we knew.”
Tango sniffles. “It’s not your fault-”
Martyn interrupts before he can even finish his sentence. “Oh no, it definitely is.”
“We should’ve been more clear with our intentions, that’s on us,” Scott agrees.
Tango glances between Scott and Martyn, the sparks from his hair illuminating their faces with a gentle glow, and feels the unending ache in his chest fade away entirely.
He was wrong. All this time, he was wrong.
Scott and Martyn love him.
“I-” Tango stutters, flustered and sore from crying. “I love you, too. Both of you.”
The strength of their smiles makes Tango’s chest flutter, and this time, it’s a comfortable sort of flutter that Tango wouldn’t mind experiencing more of. Butterflies, Jimmy had once said.
Scott and Martyn share a mischievous look. Tango doesn’t have time to prepare himself.
He’s sandwiched between them again as Scott and Martyn kiss him in sync, one kiss to each temple. Tango’s flares shower the three of them in sparks and Tango knows he’s blushing, but Scott and Martyn are laughing, and holding him close, and there’s that flutter in his chest-
There’s nowhere else Tango wants to be, right now.
Scott and Martyn love him. And Tango loves them, too.
That’s all he’d ever needed.
“I might have told them to flirt with you more,” Jimmy admits that night.
Tango turns to face Jimmy, careful not to disturb Martyn, who is pressed close to Tango’s back. Scott and Jimmy lay chest-down at either edge of the mattresses they’ve shoved together in the living room, white and golden wings spread over Tango and Martyn in place of blankets.
“Why?” Tango asks, confused but not entirely surprised.
A guilty expression falls over Jimmy’s face, and Tango grins, knowing Jimmy too well.
“I’m not mad,” he promises, “just curious.”
“I just thought you seemed nervous about our relationship. The four of us.” Jimmy says. “I could tell you didn’t think they loved you the way I love you, and I wanted to prove you wrong.”
“By having them flirt with me all the time?”
“Well-”
Jimmy stutters, clearly struggling to find an explanation of his thought process, and Tango has to fight back the laughter bubbling up in his throat. Of course it was something like this- Jimmy was so honest and earnest, and yet somehow, still so bad at communicating.
Not that Tango is any better. But they’re on the same page now, he thinks.
“Thank you,” Tango whispers. “For worrying about me.”
Jimmy’s smile shines as bright as Tango’s hair. “Anytime.”
“It still freaked me out, though. Like how am I supposed to respond to all that?”
Arms wrap around Tango’s chest from behind and pull him closer, nearly making Tango jump out of his skin from surprise. “No pressure,” Martyn mumbles, “but you could always flirt back.”
Tango wheezes a laugh and hides his face in his hands. “Yeah right, can you imagine? I can’t get normal sentences out right half the time!”
“But that’s what makes it so endearing!” Scott adds, not sounding sleepy at all.
Tango has a feeling he’s been awake this entire time, and flushes even harder. Martyn squirms at Tango’s back and Jimmy laughs, the sound vibrating through the mattress.
“God , you’re so hot,” Martyn says, and this time it clearly isn’t a compliment. “I’m dying here!”
“I mean, you could always let go of Tango,” Scott says.
Martyn mumbles incoherently against Tango’s neck and nuzzles in closer.
“Or not,” Jimmy says, and all four of them burst with laughter.
Tango lays awake for a long time that night, just listening to the sounds of the other three- Scott and Jimmy’s feathers rustling above him, Martyn’s gentle snoring against his shoulder.
When he does finally fall asleep, it’s with the realization that he’s been wrong all this time.
Jimmy loves him, Scott and Martyn love him. They always have.
Being wrong has never felt better.