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Objectively speaking, it’s a miserable scene.
The two of them are approaching their third consecutive hour of crouching in a stinking back alley, exposed to the cold and rain, hoping to gather intel about a Gromflomite base. They’re huddled behind a dumpster, the stench of garbage and piss hanging thickly in the air and mingling with the choking smog around them. Rick’s hair and clothes are plastered to his body from the rain, and Birdperson’s feathers look similarly waterlogged. His muscles are starting to cramp and protest from being held in one position for so long, but he can’t risk moving too much for fear of drawing the attention of any guards who may be watching.
However, in spite of all this, Rick feels a thrill at being pressed so closely against his friend. Their position was originally intended to help hide them from view, but it has long since begun to serve the dual purpose of sharing body heat. Birdperson’s natural body temperature is higher than Rick’s, meaning that Rick’s right side is blissfully warm from his friend’s skin. Rick has tried, unsuccessfully, to tell himself that that’s the only reason that the contact between them feels so good.
Unfortunately, the rest of his body is soaked and freezing, the chill permeating its way to his core. Rick fights a shiver but can do nothing to stop his nose from running. He sniffles and reaches up to wipe at it, making sure his arm doesn’t poke out from behind the dumpster and risk giving them away.
“You are cold.” Birdperson murmurs, keeping his voice low, even though they both know that they’re well out of earshot of the Gromflomites.
If it had been anyone else making this comment, Rick wouldn’t have even tried to hold back a sarcastic response. However, something about Birdperson’s straightforward manner has a way of softening the snarky voice in his head and so Rick simply nods in reply, sniffling again.
Rick feels Birdperson shuffling next to him, making a series of subtle movements to avoid being noticeable. He assumes that Birdperson is simply uncomfortable and needs to change position - hell, he’s struggling enough without the addition of two extra limbs - and thinks nothing of it when he feels movement behind him. Soon, however, he feels something tickle his hand and realises Birdperson has wrapped a wing around him. Rick feels his cheeks begin to blaze underneath his chilled skin and turns his face away from Birdperson, hoping that he just appears flushed from the cold.
After he feels the blood retreat from his face, leaving it numb once more, he turns back to face Birdperson, looking up through clumps of wet hair stuck to his forehead. Drops of water cling to Birdperson’s face and feathers, the light catching on them like diamonds. They trail down his face, dripping from his chin and rolling over his lips. His eyes are deep and determined, serious as always. They’re so close together that their noses almost brush, and Rick feels aware of every iota of distance between them.
“Thank you.” he mumbles, his voice coming out quiet and almost demure. He blinks his way out of the trance and manages to tear his eyes away from Birdperson, fixing his gaze on a hole in the ground where water is pooling. Rick clears his throat. “Th-thanks.” he corrects himself, pulling his voice down, trying to sound gruff and indifferent.
Rick is both intensely enjoying this and simultaneously suffocating from the awkwardness. He’s fully aware of the seriousness of their mission, but his goddamn irrational brain won’t let him think about anything other than the man next to him. They’re meant to be rebels trying to take down the Galactic Federation, and here he is acting like a teenager on a first date.
He’s almost grateful when they’re alerted to footsteps in the distance. Distinct, light, insect footsteps.
He feels Birdperson tense at his side, unconsciously gripping Rick’s arm, doing nothing to help Rick keep his thoughts where they should be.
Rick mentally shakes himself and focuses on the footsteps. The Gromflomite seems to be coming towards the two of them, but hopefully far enough away that they won’t be spotted. At the current distance, it’s hard to tell, and the two of them hold their breath in anticipation.
Unfortunately, as the sound gets closer, it’s apparent that the Gromflomite is converging on their position. At this point, it’s not a matter of if they’ll be spotted, but when.
Rick turns to Birdperson, his hand reaching down for his gun.
“We have to take him out.” he whispers urgently.
“If we do that, we will certainly be spotted. If we remain here, we have a chance of staying hidden.”
“Pers, we gotta do it! If we’re quick, they won’t see us from the base. If we leave it too long, our buddy over there’ll have time to raise the alarm.”
“Rick, I order you to stay hidden unless it is clear that we have been seen.”
Rick feels a hot mixture of indignation and, regrettably, arousal flare to life in his stomach.
“You order me?”
“Yes. This is my mission, you have agreed to help me. The final say is mine.”
Rebellion and rationality fight each other in Rick’s brain. Logically, he knows his friend is right: it’s Birdperson’s revenge mission, and they’re sure to be seen if they move from their current spot. Unfortunately, as much as Rick hates to admit it to himself, his emotions overpower logic every time when it comes to decision making.
The footsteps are so close as to almost be on top of them now. Both of their gazes are fixed on the exit of the adjoining alleyway only metres away from them. It’s slightly off to their left, and the angle means that they have a chance of remaining obscured from view by the dumpster they’re hiding behind, but it’s a risk Rick doesn’t want to take.
He carefully measures the weight of the gun in his hand. It’s an energy blaster, meaning a shot across the alley will be seen from the base, but then, so will any altercation that takes place if the approaching enemy spots them. Rick knows his only chance is to jump across to the adjoining alley and shoot that bitch dead.
He listens intently, trying to determine his exact moment, readjusting his grip on the trigger. He counts down, then leaps.
Birdperson yells behind him. The Gromflomite jumps back in surprise.
Rick shoots.
He misses, the beam scorching the wall just above the soldier’s shoulder. Unfortunately, the Gromflomite is quick, and before Rick can readjust his aim, he shoots. So quick, in fact, that he pulls the trigger prematurely, hitting Rick in the leg.
Rick crumples, falling to the floor before he can process what’s happening. The jolt of hitting the floor brings him back to the moment just as the barrel of a gun is thrust in front of his face.
“Rick Sanchez. Finally.” the bug chuckles menacingly. “Just wait until the bosses find out I’m the one who took out Rick Sanchez. I’ll be a hero! I’ll be-”
Rick never gets to find out what else the soldier would be, as his speech is cut off by a prompt beam through the head. Blood shoots out sickeningly, the lifeless insect carcass collapsing to the floor.
Rick turns to see Birdperson holding a freshly-discharged pistol. His friend looks downright heroic, and Rick could almost swoon at the sight. However, as soon as Birdperson’s eyes move to him, fluttering turns to dread as he sees the fury pulsing within them.
His friend strides over to him, briskly and fiercely, and for a moment Rick feels genuinely afraid of the man towering over him. Instead, Birdperson yanks Rick’s jacket off and presses it firmly against Rick’s wound, making him cry out in pain. At the sound, Birdperson looks up, his face icy and terrifying. He wraps and ties the material around Rick’s leg in a way that Rick is sure uses more force than necessary.
“Apply pressure.” he instructs, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. Rick presses down on his wound, wincing.
“BP, I-”
“Don’t.” Birdperson’s voice is so enraged it silences Rick instantly.
Birdperson tugs him to his feet, again much harder than needed, and roughly scoops Rick up in his arms. For a minute, Rick thinks Birdperson is going to throw him, and even after he realises they’re flying back to their base, it takes him a few seconds to realise that the scream he hears is coming from his mouth. He falls silent ashamedly, not daring to look at Birdperson. A small, ridiculous part of him is secretly revelling in the feeling of being held and carried by his friend, and he’s disgusted at himself. Mixed with the guilt, shame and regret, it’s not sitting well, and Rick swallows deeply against nausea rising in his throat. The world seems to blink in and out of consciousness, and he tries to reach out to clutch onto Birdperson for safety, but his arms are so weak, and the world is spinning and flashing beneath him.
The next time he’s aware of his surroundings, he’s lying on the foldout medical bed in their base, an empty syringe lying next to him. He vaguely recognises the label indicating his own emergency healing serum. Fuck, that means he needs to make more.
He groans and lets his head drop back against the bed.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Birdperson’s voice startles Rick into snapping his head up so fast the world begins to spin dangerously again and Rick has to fight against passing out.
“BP, I-I’m so-”
“No.” Birdperson appears, so close to Rick’s face that Rick flinches. “Do not say those words to me, Rick Sanchez.”
When Birdperson draws back, Rick sees that he has antiseptic and bandages in his hands.
“I must clean and dress your wound.” His tone is calm and measured in comparison to the previous moment, yet still laced with a definite undertone of danger.
“I-it’s fine, BP, let me, it’s the least I can-”
“No.” Birdperson’s tone takes on a quality that has the power to stop Rick’s tongue in an instant. “I would like to see you experience the consequences of your actions.”
Rick’s heart is pounding, and he’s embarrassed to realise the extent to which arousal is a contributing factor. Birdperson maintains eye contact as he pours antiseptic liquid onto gauze, his face set into a stern, furious expression that sends chills throughout Rick’s entire body.
The angle of the bed allows Birdperson to keep staring directly into Rick’s soul as he crouches down. Just as Rick is sure he’s going to suffocate under the intensity of Birdperson’s gaze, sharp pain shoots its way through his leg, blocking out his ability to perceive anything other than agony. A scream tears itself from his throat, his eyes watering.
After a few dabs, Rick gets used to the pain enough for his scream to dull to a pathetic whimper.
“Your healing serum is truly remarkable, Rick. Treating your wound was far beyond my level of expertise when we first returned, yet now it needs little more than some disinfection and bandaging.” Birdperson’s words are complimentary, but his tone is harsh, and it’s doing nothing to help the confused mass of emotions writhing in Rick’s stomach.
“Yeah, I-I’ll have to make more.”
“Yes, you will.” Birdperson presses down hard, and Rick can’t help the cry that explodes from his lips. “Because of your mistake. Because you did not listen to me.”
“I’m sorry.” Rick moans through the pain.
“That intel would have allowed us to make our next major move on a Gromflomite base. I ordered you to wait. You disobeyed me. Once you have healed, we will have to move to a new location so that we are not found, and start all over again to attempt to locate another enemy base, since this one will now certainly be either abandoned or placed on increased security because of your mistake!”
The last two words are roared with more emotion or volume than Rick has ever heard from Birdperson.
“I’m sorry!” he practically sobs.
Birdperson growls and removes the gauze from the wound.
“Yes, you are.”
He turns to dispose of the gauze. Rick feels his body trembling, his mind overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions. His breathing comes rapid and heavy, almost as a pant.
Birdperson turns around with the bandage and begins to wrap Rick’s wound. Rick bites his lip in an attempt to stifle his cries of pain.
Mercifully, Birdperson finishes quickly, standing up to his full height so that he looms over Rick, wings beginning to stretch outwards.
“Do not disobey me again.” he hisses. “I am going out to scout for a new, secure location for us to relocate to. Stay here and rest, and think hard about the fact that this is all your fault.”
With a bird-like cry, Birdperson takes off, narrowly missing the opening of the tent.
Rick gasps, not sure if he’s sobbing or crying out with pleasure. He feels disgusted and guilty and shamefully aroused as he feels blood pooling into the strangest boner of his life. He swallows, already knowing what he’s going to do but hating himself for it.
In typical Rick fashion, he immediately starts justifying it to himself. Birdperson will be even more furious if he gets back and sees him like this, and he’s bound to be gone for a while. Besides, he’s so hard it’s almost painful, which is the last thing he needs right now, and anyway, orgasms release neurotransmitters that serve as natural painkillers, right?
Rick sees straight through his own flimsy attempts at justification, but it doesn’t matter. His mind was made up the second Birdperson left.
Trembling with shame and self-loathing that feels delicious and awful in equal measure, he reaches a hand down into his pants and begins.