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After Joel managed to successfully answer his question, their attention was stolen by Ren’s robot flew down in front of them, beeping insistently as it rolled to a stop in front of him.
"Okay here we go," Ren said, nervously clapping his hands together and leaning down to read it out. "Of these pairs, who got married in third life? Jimmy and Scott, Etho and Bdubs, Ren and Martyn."
"Well married," Martyn said, leaning over his shoulder. "That's gotta be flower husbands right?"
"I mean we never really got married?" Scott got out, managing to make it sound more of a question.
Ren turned to Martyn, his brow furrowed. “Did we get married? Are we married?”
“Uh,” Started Martyn, stopping and tilting his head to consider. “I mean I cut your head off. And swore our loyalty and all but if that was a marriage ceremony I want another. Like at least a fancy ring.”
The dog nodded seriously, and Cleo cleared her throat. “They probably meant flower husbands though right?”
“Sure? We didn’t do like a marriage thing, he just gave me a flower and we were husbands.”
“That probably counts then,” Said Martyn, backing away from the robot as Ren reached for it’s buttons.
“I’m putting in Jimmy and Scott!” The dog declared before scrambling back to brace with the others. The little quiz master, whirled and chirped before it’s screen lit up green and they collective sighed in relief as Ren went forward to collect is rewards.
They were interrupted a little after, by Tango’s kill on Joel, but Scott couldn’t get the question out of his head. Were they ever married?
After the session, Scott split off from his team, under the excuse of going out to gather more supplies. With Mumbo out, the weeks would only get more chaotic and they could always use more supplies with everyone casually robbing them any chance they got.
With the sun still blaring over him and no mobs in sight, he let himself get lost in the repetition of chopping wood, and let his mind wander. The avian hadn’t meant to propose, he knew, or confess either though he’d meant it for the poppy. It was Scott who’d made the joke that they were married now and he had never corrected it but had never agreed either. There was never any hope of Scott keeping his feelings purely platonic, although he tried to prevent it from overwhelming it, he knew it slipped out.
Sure they had lived together and shared the same bed, but neither of them slept well on their own once Jimmy turned red so it only made sense. And yes, he’d let him preen his wings, one of the most intimate parts of an avian, even let him wear one of his feathers around his neck. He’d never received a clear answer for wearing it but Jimmy had always lit up at the sight of it. It was domestic really, even once the war started, cooking and caring for each other. That only solidified once Scott had finally died too and instead of going to the void, going home to him.
They’d only brought it once after third life, well directly anyways. At the date on empires, coated in references to the life they had once lived together. But Jimmy had brushed it off as an alliance proposal and Scott'd never had the heart to bring up that he’d meant it romantically too. So he either was that oblivious, or more likely he was trying to gently let him down.
Before that, he’d kept the feather under his clothes, close to his heart. After that, he made himself take it off and store it in a box, not able to bare getting rid of it, but it was from a different life, one that Jimmy was trying to leave behind.
Scott sighed, dropping the axe back into his inventory. He wouldn’t be able to let this go if he didn’t ask. Gathering up the scattered wood, he stopped by the fort to dump it in a chest and waved to Cleo from her spot amongst the wheat she gathered. He quickly retrieved the small box from it’s previously permanent place under his jewelry box. They’d always been allowed to bring a couple items into the games so long as they couldn’t be used as an unfair advantage, and he’d made it a habit to bring a couple accessories. The feather had remained hidden and unworn under them ever since he’d taken it off.
He hurried out, making his way up the mountain and popping bread into his mouth as he carefully avoided the still very trapped stairs. Many of the players had forgone building a proper house this game, the Bamboozlers being three of them, instead opting to make tents they could set up and take down with ease. So immediately he spotted Jimmy stirring a pot over their camp fire, their little camp site no longer blocked by Scar’s reputation board. Steeling his nerves, Scott forced his posture to relax, and call out to him.
“Hey Jimmy!”
Jimmy’s wings flared and just as quickly relaxed as he looked up, grinning. “Hey! What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you actually,” He said, making his way over. “Lizzie and Scar not here?”
“Nope!” Jimmy chirped, stirring a final time before taking the pot off the flame and hanging it in a tree. “Lizzie’s visiting Joel and Scar’s.. somewhere. What’s up?”
Scott opened his mouth, only to shut it as Jimmy made proper eye contact. Whatever he saw made him furrow his brow and he stepped closer. They didn’t have much of a height difference, but Scott couldn’t remember feeling smaller under his concerned gaze.
“Scott?”
“Here,” He said instead, shoving the small box at him and looking anywhere but him. “Sorry I kept it. I know you didn’t- I couldn’t make myself get rid of it. Sorry.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw him open the box and his breathe hitch. Any other words he could’ve said dried on his tongue and Scott turned to bolt, but not before a hand grabbed his wrist. Keeping him firmly in place.
"Wait– stay? Please?” Jimmy asked, sounding almost fragile.
Even after all this time, he was always weak for him and he nodded numbly. Letting himself be lead to trio of chairs, Jimmy sat next to him, the box in his lap.
“I thought you tossed it,” He said finally, his voice cracking slightly. “You didn’t wear it after third life.”
Scott shook his head after a moment. “You didn’t want me to. But I couldn’t– didn’t want to give it back.” He admitted.
Jimmy let out a broken coo, seeming subconsciously. “Would you have? Worn it?”
Scott blinked, and nodded again though he didn’t seem to see.
“Not that one I mean. It’s so old and, and dull. But a better one–?”
The sunk feeling on his heart receded, and he interrupted. “Jimmy, I would’ve. Still would.”
Immediately Jimmy lit up, a pleased warble escaping his lips.
“Were we ever married?” Scott asked hesitantly. At his almost baffled look, he added, “Flower husbands I know, but we were kinda just called that.”
“Scott. Petal,” He began, and Scott refused to blush at the return of that pet name. “What did you think the feather was for?” Jimmy asked incredulously.
He did stop at that, “What?”
“It’s an avian thing, it’s um,” He explained, carefully taking his hand. “I gave you my feather, you accepted it. So we were married.”
His heart skipped a beat at the gesture before the words fully set in. “And then I stopped openly wearing it.”
Jimmy shrugged helplessly, letting him squeeze at their joined hands. “I thought you wanted to leave it behind us.”
Scott groaned, giving into the impulse and dropping his head into Jimmy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so dumb, I thought that too.”
He felt Jimmy chuckle as he wrapped his arms and wings around him, burrowing them both a feathered cocoon. “We’re both idiots, it’s okay.”
“Hey that’s my husband you’re talking about,” Scott argued teasingly.
“I am? Your husband still?”
“I’d like you to be.”
“Me too.”