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Every morning played the same way for the Bad Boys. Joel woke up first, every time, he made sure of it. He hated mornings, actually, but what was he supposed to do? His Bad Boys won’t wake up until a few hours later, not quite afternoon but not right in the morning either. Not to mention they were both horrible at remembering to do certain things, even though it’s the same every damn morning.
Not their fault, Joel knew that. Grian usually got up to work on whatever he dreamed about, only sparing a word or two to a sleepy Jimmy before throwing himself out of bed. Then when it’s Jimmy’s turn, he’s usually the one waking Joel up, making sure he was fairly caught up on what’s already gone on while he was sleeping. Joel would thank him, then Jimmy would nod off and go do whatever he wanted, either mining down under or convincing someone to help improve whatever Bread Bridge has become at this point.
When the sun teased his eyelids open, Joel muffled his annoyed groans with his arm. Not part of routine, really, just his natural response whenever he had to either be forced awake or force himself awake so early. He’s not even sure why he bothers, but he does, and that’s just how it’s been and will be.
First things first, checking in on his Bad Boys. Not too hard a task with their wings taking up most of the space, which actually explains why Joel kept waking up in a sweat. He was used to their wings by now, this not being the first they’ve slept together with all three beds pushed close. It didn’t make getting out from under their wings any easier though, no matter how many times he’s done it!
Issue one, wing wrangling. Wings were sensitive to a lot of people, not just avians, but Joel didn’t exactly have enough experience with winged beings to know for sure. Jimmy hated his being touched because of their sensitivity, something about vulnerability or whatever, so Joel focused on only moving it like he’s swatting away a fly. If he tried to grab at them or lift them from a lower spot, like a blanket, the man would undoubtedly knock him out in one fell swoop. A bird’s instinct, really. And while he can’t blame him for it, damn him for being unconscious doing it, it’s still annoying when it happens. Joel makes mistakes, alright?!
Grian was a whole other breed of difficulty. His wings weren’t as large as Jimmy’s, and for some reason, that made them so much harder to move. Joel thinks it was Pearl who taught him, or maybe he eavesdropped on the Nosy Neighbors before, where she recalled Grian fighting with his wings because they were easy to move with. Like a toddler chucking their toys at people for their own amusement. While all Joel had to do is move Grian instead of his wings, in case the guy decided to fight him in his sleep, he had to do it without waking him or Jimmy.
Disadvantages of sleeping together. Joel thought, quietly groaning into his hands as he dragged them down his face. He’s barely sat up, even with the sun mocking him through the windows, damn it. He’s not ridiculously exhausted or anything, and this isn’t the first time he’s woken up groggy either.
“Move over,” he muttered softly, minding Jimmy’s wing closest to his shoulder while he focused on shoving Grian over. He didn’t know how heavy sleepers they were, but he wasn’t about to risk all this repetitive effort for nothing, right? And besides, what kind of Bad Boy would he be to ruin their beauty sleep? A no good, very bad Bad Boy, that’s what.
Grian toppled onto his stomach, which honestly didn’t look that comfortable even if he stayed asleep, so Joel slowly wriggled one of his legs out from the one Grian trapped him with when he moved. This was issue two: detangling. Grian was way easier to move, they both technically were, since neither of them really put much of a fight - you know, being asleep and not having half a mind to fight whatever the hell dream-them thought was attacking them.
Jimmy wasn’t as easy, curse him and his tallness. Not only were his wings a bitch to deal with, but for some reason, he was more reactive to touches. Joel guessed it was the whole sensitivity thing, but he thought that only referred to wings, not other areas. Moving a whole wing was one thing, but trying to lift Jimmy’s arm off his stomach without the same arm hitting at him was another. Who thought it was a good idea to make sleeping people fight in their sleep, huh?
He reminded himself this was the same time every morning, wrangling himself out from under parts of them just to go do routinely things. While it didn’t make the challenges any less difficult, at least they weren’t necessarily new, aside from realizing Jimmy’s entirely touch-sensitive and Grian’s a menace even asleep.
One leg unwrapped from someone else’s, who knows whose leg that was, and someone getting shoved away took seconds longer than Joel may have anticipated. But it was nothing. He was a Bad Boy. The best kind, the baddest and raddest of the Bad Boys even.
Next thing to deal with, now he’s fully awake: redirect the sunlight. That was still a hassle, since he had to actually move and walk around their little house, or whatever they can call it, but it’s routine. Bad Boy or not, he can’t break routine.
So, begrudgingly, Joel fought back a yawn as he left the semi-comfort of the beds, only turning back to see his friends still sleeping soundly. Snoring loud as hell, actually, but he’d pretend otherwise for his sake. He then went to one of the windows, mentally swearing at it up and down for being bright, and figured out how to cut off some of the light with curtains. He hated it being in his face so early, so did Jimmy and Grian, but they still needed some sun to light the room. At least now it won’t be glaring at his friends’ eyes when they eventually get up, compared to how it did to Joel.
Looking at the duo again, making sure the sun really wasn’t all in their faces, and he came to a realization. They looked fucking ridiculous.
Grian found a way to tuck his chin to his neck and lay one wing to his side, splayed, and the other over Jimmy’s stomach, acting as a sheet or blanket. His hair’s a damn mess, all of them have bedheads, mostly because the two kept moving around and fussing in their sleep or semi-awake states. Despite the menace that he is, he looked peaceful.
Jimmy also seemed peaceful enough, granted he’s not the sort of menace Grian is. A menace still, absolutely, just in his own way. He’s more restless in his sleep, probably nerves, but it’s never enough to really shake the other two awake. Enough to get Joel to shove him away as gently as possible, if he’s already awake, sure. Not enough to wake himself or Grian up though.
Joel tore his eyes off of them to proceed with the third- fourth?- thing on the mental to-do list. Sun woke him, check. Wings wrangled, check. Limbs detangled, check. Light redirected, check.
He got out his communicator, thankful even if it’s only ever to be used in this world. Something to do with resets and deletions, which he figured was fine. He just needed his daily dose of morning help. Fuck, I do not need the reminder it's still early!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
<Smallishbeans whispers to Tango> help
<Tango> thats not ominous at all
<Tango> whats up?
<Smallishbeans> the birds are asleep
<Smallishbeans> wdym whats up
<Smallishbeans> wait
<Tango> wrong person?
<Smallishbeans> ignore this
<Smallishbeans> im tired
<Tango> no no continue
<Tango> what birds?
<Tango> is it a parrot thing?
<Smallishbeans> and a ncarya
<Smallishbeans> canary
<Tango> ohhh
<Tango> who usually helps?
<Smallishbeans> pearl
<Tango> okay
<Tango> no idea how you mixed “p” with “t” but sure
<Tango> what does she do?
<Smallishbeans> she reminds me how to do the wing stuff
<Smallishbeans> idiots never remember to do it themselves
<Tango> ???
<Tango> like preening or??
<Smallishbeans> idfk
<Smallishbeans> wait whats preening
<Tango> how have you lived with them for days and not know what that is
<Tango> actually nvm
<Tango> they dont preen themselves?
<Smallishbeans> its them
<Smallishbeans> what do you think
<Tango> okay
<Tango> so they let you preen them?
<Smallishbeans> no
<Tango> then why are you even asking
<Smallishbeans> bc i want to help
<Smallishbeans> theyre too busy to do it themselves >:(
<Tango> im also too busy to keep talking to you
<Smallishbeans> the sun just got up wtf do you mean busy
<Tango> im with impulse
<Smallishbeans> how boring is he that youre on your phone having sex
<Tango> im
<Tango> im gonna pretend i didnt read that
<Tango> know what good luck on your own dude
<Smallishbeans> wait no
<Tango> ask pearl then
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Joel huffed through his nose as he swiped to Pearl’s name, opening their chat. He’d ask Scott just to spite Tango, but he didn’t need someone to target him, and he was still annoyed at Scott evading his attacks hours ago.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
<Smallishbeans> help
<PearlescentMoon> no
<Smallishbeans> why
<PearlescentMoon> bonding with b
<Smallishbeans> cant you tell me what to do then
<PearlescentMoon> tango said no
<Smallishbeans> why are you working with him???
<PearlescentMoon> hey mate
<PearlescentMoon> theyre your birds
<PearlescentMoon> best of luck xoxo
<Smallishbeans> :(
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Okay, so he’s on his own this time. That’s alright. Absolutely fine. The best of the Bad Boys can be independent and do the work on his own, otherwise he wouldn’t be the best. But he is. He’s the best there ever was in the history of Bad Boys, Rad Boys, Mad Boys, and Sad Boys. That last one’s a bit debatable, but whatever.
At some point his legs had given up and he was sitting on the floor, focused entirely on his communicator, now that he’s looking around at everything being just a bit higher than when he was standing.
To top that off, facing forward nearly made him choke on air with one of his fellow Bad Boys sitting that up close and personal. When did he even wake up? Were they both awake??
“What’cha doin’?” Grian hummed, yawning behind his weak attempt to hide it with his wing. Seems he didn’t have enough energy to be louder than he snores, not yet, as he invited himself to lay against Joel’s arm, cheek pressed to his shoulder.
Joel snapped his comms. shut, shuffled away next time he needed it, mostly as an excuse to do something with his attention rather than stare at his friend.
But he was staring now, at Grian, who did the same. Just as he was when asleep, he’s peaceful, sort of quiet, with Jimmy’s lone snores being the only source of sound in the room.
“Heey, Grian,” Joel whispered, remembering how to actually use his mouth and make words. Forgetting was one thing, idiocy was another. Right now, his brain thrived off both. “Why are you up?”
Grian huffed a laugh, almost like he wouldn't answer, but he did. Joel wondered if he was even fully awake yet. “About to ask you the—” a yawn cut him off, for a second. He blinked sleepily, so not too awake, before the cogs in his bird brain followed up back to what he was saying. “Why are you up, Joel?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he lied, partially. His friends were restless, nevermind their wings deciding to move around often, but he did somehow get sleep. Probably not as much as he would have without feathers in his neck, ear, or mouth, but sleep’s sleep.
The way Grian’s lips fell from his usual smile to a frown felt like enough for Joel to look anywhere else, distract himself as easily as Jimmy would’ve. Gods, how wasn’t he awake by this point? Good for him for sleeping through this, sure, but still!
“You wanna try sleeping alone then?”
Well, that’s not quite what he hoped for. Joel also hoped it’s not obvious how awful that question was to hear, even if it made him look at Grian a tad quicker than he should, trying not to make his eyes seem wide. It hurt, for some ungodly reason, which he chose to leave for later-Joel to deal with, though he doubted that’s what Grian meant by it. He had no reason to be offended by it, or hurt for that matter!
“No,” quickly left his throat, breaking the quiet, whispery atmosphere he tried to hold between them. He can’t help it. “It’s not you, I-”
“If you say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, Joel, I’m biting you for it.”
For whatever reason, the last part didn’t properly register in Joel’s stupid, stupid tired brain. He was so sure the sunlight hitting him in the face earlier would be enough to wake him up, but it didn’t. It just annoyed him into getting up and dealing with a new day, not boosting his brain into energy mode or anything useful.
So when he replied, there was not a single thought behind those eyes. “It’s not you, G, it’s me.”
And if he or Grian shared a look of mutual acknowledgement towards what he said, maybe one of them threw in a grin somewhere, what of it?
“GRIAN!”
Now that’s the voice he wanted to hear. Maybe not yelling at them, but it’s enough.
Jimmy’s awake, which Joel can’t tell if he should thank the gods or curse them, and he’s staring at the two of them. His wide-eyed look would’ve been odd had it not been for Grian to take his own words seriously, his teeth clamped shut around Joel’s forearm, like a fucking menace.
“Mornin’ Jim,” Joel greeted their fellow Bad Boy, casually waving with the same hand Grian’s holding onto. It didn’t hurt, surprisingly enough, despite his friend’s freakishly sharp teeth. They were definitely still teeth pinching his skin, but more in the sense of a thorn prick, not a shark bite or anything like that. He can’t tell if that’s an avian thing or a Grian thing. And, out of sleepy curiosity, he couldn’t help but ask, “Do you do this too?”
Jimmy just stared, fair enough, unable to make anything more than a confused noise come out of his mouth. His brain must’ve caught up fast enough to respond by shaking his head and, “No! Why- Why is he?”
Grian took his mouth- teeth, whatever- off of Joel and grimaced, shuffling to his feet like he just tasted some sour fruit. Was that a Grian thing, or a bird thing?
“Why do you smell like smoke?”
Oh. Joel blinked at him, already knowing exactly what he meant by that. He cooked just a little after his Bad Boys fell asleep, another routine of detangling and wing wrangling just to get out of bed before he could. He wanted to have breakfast ready for them when they woke up at whatever ungodly hour, easy enough to reheat and serve with one or two extras to eat raw.
Now two of them were close, when did Jimmy move?, staring at this idiot of a Bad Boy as he stared over one of their shoulders. “I cooked a while ago.” Not a while ago, but it sounded like a solid excuse.
“You can cook?” Jimmy asked, and Joel glared at him for it, only to regret how soft his friend’s eyes were. The question wasn’t phrased right, he guessed, but his face said enough.
“So you didn’t sleep,” Grian concluded all on his own, a little detective he was. He shared a look with Jimmy, which Joel’s brain took as avian telepathy that probably didn’t even exist, and the two looked back at him. Somehow the doubled attention felt weird, even if they’re all already close friends and push each other out of their general comfort zones a lot.
Maybe it’s because they share that zone now. Usually it’s him and Grian messing with Jimmy, riling him up to yell at them or fight back, which works 99% of the time when he’s not sick of their shit, or sometimes it’s him and Jimmy vaguely getting Grian to agree to something so dumb just to turn and blame it on him for agreeing to it.
They are comfortable with each other, no doubt about it, the damn void and universe know that too. They just don’t know all the little itty bitty personal bits that they honestly never had to know, if they never wanted to share it. But they did, that’s why their fights hardly come out bad, or why they can make each other laugh even if they’re being the biggest nuisance in the world. They click, weirdly enough, like magnets with no spatial awareness.
Fuck, what were they talking about again?
“Earth to Joel?” It was Grian, again, snapping him out of whatever blank space his brain threw him in. Did he always space out like that? “Tim, can you—”
“On it,” Jimmy answered from somewhere else, closer still, just out of Joel’s viewpoint.
Then he’s being lifted, all his focus on the floor he seemed to be hovering over. Grian’s holding his legs up, so that meant Jimmy must be the one holding his arms. Since he wasn’t really sitting far from the beds, ignoring the fact the room’s relatively small enough to navigate around, they’re able to plop him on the beds.
“I’m not tired, guys,” Joel insisted, the words faltering easily when it’s clear his routine’s broken with his Bad Boys laying on either side of him. He huffed, annoyed but appreciative. “Guys.”
“Nothing’s happening right now, Joel,” Grian assured him, fumbling with one of Joel’s arms to tuck it between his own, clinging to him. His wings stuck to his sides, relaxed, not stiff, and Joel guessed he should sleep before his brain realized his arm’s all limp later.
“Sleepy times for the Bad Boys,” Jimmy chimed in, almost quieter, settling on the other side of him. He’s not touchy like Grian, so he awkwardly found somewhere to put his arms close to him, in a way that didn’t look like it hurt.
Joel didn’t feel like doing anything, given he’d wake up later and go through most of the usual routine, so he just laid there. Laid there with the softest, most Bad Boy whisper, “M'a tired lad, boys.”
Twin groans were enough satisfaction to close his eyes and let the world send him to dreamland — or that blank space earlier.