Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Leather. That’s what Grian remembered Scar smelling like. But now it was all different. They were now in a new death game… different Scar and different Grian. In this world, they were soul-bound. It was nothing like 3rd Life. Grian missed the desert.

Grian sat by the campfire poking the remaining ambers with a stick. He had offered Scar the spot beside him. “Nah, I’ll check on the Jellies…see how they’re doing,” was his response.

Grian knew he was trying to guilt him into getting the loud, large, obnoxious animals inside his keep. He knew it was different now, and Scar didn’t remember much of anything from the first game… not like Grian did. Being the winner of 3rd Life, he was cursed with the crystal clear memory of everything.

After the fall from their mountain, he had begged the Watchers to let him remember. He didn’t want to forget Scar or everything they went through. Little did he know that he damned all the winners with the awful and tramatizing memories of the events of their games. Scott had been the 2nd winner…he knew that Scott resented him for it.

But now he was far from the desert…even farther from his Scar. So Grian sat alone at a near-burnt-out campfire, wondering how he was going to survive this. He was scared of who he became around Scar.

“Room for one more?” The familiar voice brought him out of his thoughts. Tango stood before him, holding some firewood

Grian moved over, “Yeah…of course,”. The sudden appearance of Tango was a little startling. He knew that they were between sessions, so he was no real threat, but he couldn’t believe he snuck up on him like that.

Grian shook his head, trying to remember how to be in a normal conversation. “Sorry. Where are my manners?! Thanks for the…uh, firewood,”.

Tango placed the firewood beside him. He waved his hand in dismally, “Ah! No need for thanks. Just trying to be neighborly,” He motioned behind him, “Me and Jimmy have settled just around that hillside.”

“Oh, I see,” Grian nodded, “And how are the two of you getting on?” He eyed him. Grian wondered if it was just him and Scar having these problems. After all, Tango had died in that day’s session.

Tango quirked up an eyebrow, “Me and Jimmy…I think we're doing better than you and the other one.” He crossed his arms, “Trouble in paradise?

His tone wasn’t accusatory, but his words still hurt: “I would exactly call this paradise.” Grian looked away from the fire, “Considering Scar spent his entire session chasing fairies and discovering new panda creatures.” His tone was sour.

Tango let out a laugh, “You’re right on one thing…this sure isn’t paradise.” He outstretched his arms, “But…I guess you've got to make do with what you've got.”

“Goodness! Jimmy’s rubbed off on you already!” He flicked him with his wing. Making Tango eat a feather or two.

He made a spitting noise to clear the feathers from his face, “Yeah, yeah! Whatever! I see no reason why I can’t be optimistic,”

And he never will. Grian knew better than to be optimistic. This all ends the same way every time.

Grian shrugged. He looked up at the moon, “Hmmm…It’s late,” He looked back at Tango, “You should get home to Jimmy…wouldn’t want to worry the misses,” He teased.

“I guess you’re right,” Tango said, standing up from where he sat. He began to walk away but reversed his steps, “Hey Grian…,”

I looked up at him. He returned it with what looked like pity in his eyes.

“I uh…hope you two work, whatever..,” He motioned to the air, “..this is out,”.

He gave him a silent nod. Tango turned back around and began his walk back to the Ranch. Grain watched as his silhouette faded out into the darkness. He was right…it’s late. And Scar is still out there with those ridiculous animals. He might catch and cold or some kind of panda ridden disease and kill them both.

He reluctantly stood. He began the walk into the cold darkness to the hole in which the ‘Jellie’ pandas were kept. As Grian neared, Scar stood there, all 6 feet of him, illuminated by one singular torch.

He was lost in some discussion with the pandas to notice Grians’s approach. The first thing Grian noticed was making a jacket of some kind. Scar’s sewing kit and the seemingly new jacket were thrown to the side from where he was standing: his cane was not far from him either. Grian cleared his throat, knowing it was going to startle him anyway.

Scar made one of his comical screams, “Holy moly! Grian! You can't just sneak up on a man like that!” He turned so he was facing him, “What are you sneaking around in the dark for anyway?!”

Grian cracked a small smile at his sound of distress. “I wasn’t sneaking…you just don’t pay much attention, Scar.” He looked up at him, “Anyway…you should come inside the keep…you’re going to freeze out here,”

Scar thought for a moment, “...Are the Jellie pandas inside still a for sure no?” He asked slowly

Grian sighed, “Yes, Scar! Still a for sure no,” Grian was getting more and more fed up with these ridiculous pandas. Scar was supposed to be his soulmate, but he was instead too focused on these nuisances of an animal.

“Oh…well, I’ll just stay out here for tonight,” He looked him dead in the eyes. Scar’s tone was on the defensive. “Don’t you worry about me,” He smiled, but not his usual smile, this one was more forced.

“Scar…just come inside,” Grian gestured to the keep. “This is getting ridiculous,”

Scar eyed him, “I’m good out here with the Jellies.” His voice was testing him. Daring him to either let him freeze out here and put both of their lives in harm's way, or let the pandas in. Grian weighed his options. They were always both so stubborn. And Grian would certainly not let these animals into what would be his house.

“Let me know if you need a blanket,” Grian huffed off.

It wasn’t ever like this is the desert. Of course, he had to do what Scar told him to back then, but Scar was never like this back then. His Scar was different from the one he has now. His Scar wouldn’t have talked to him like that. Grian remembers nights when they would stay up, freezing together. Neither of them complained; the only warmth they needed was each other. But this isn’t the desert. Scar is sleeping outside, the farthest he can be from Grian, and Grian is trying to sleep, watching the dancing glow of the dying fire. Sleep takes him not long after his head hits the pillow.

He dreams of cactus and sand and Scar. At least he thinks it’s a dream. The reality of his memories scares him…everything is complicated. Jumbled and shoehorned into each other… except the end. Grian always remembered how it ended.

In his dream, he knew he wasn’t alone in the desert. Scar was nearby. He couldn’t shake his nerves. Scar was freshly red after their very eventful session. Grian held Pizza's rope in his hand as he tied him up to his newly installed post right outside their tower.

Pizza’s fur had a few spots of dark dirt in it, most likely due to his walk back from his place of capture. Grian had to admit the lama had grown on him. “Good to see he’s closer to us,” Scar’s voice came from behind him. Grian turned to face him. He looked the same as the last day Grian saw him: his pants had large tares and rips in them, and he wore his same shawl and leather cap. His skin was beginning to grey in some places. Red eyes looked back into Grian’s own.

“Yeah, I think his new home will suffice,” Grian pet his fur. “He’s had quite the day, huh?” He looked at Scar with a smile. He felt nerves deep in the pit of his stomach. Scar couldn’t kill him between sessions, but still, red is a scary life to be on.

Scar flashed his smile back and approached where the two stood, “Yes, it’s good…the only thing is,” His eyes met Grian's, “What if it rains? Or if a huge sandstorm blows through?” His voice sounded a little scared for Pizza.

Grian hadn’t thought about that, “Well…I guess he’d come into the tower if that happens,”

“You’d let Pizza in the tower?” He squinted his eyes, not fully believing Grian’s words.

“I don’t see why not. After all he’s been through…I think it’s the least we could do for him,” Grian petted him once more. Scar smiled, “That is true.” Scar mimicked Grian and pet Pizza. He tried to ignore when their hands briefly brushed along Pizza's back, “He sure is a survivor!”

But he wasn’t. Pizza is dead. Scar is dead. Grian feels dead.

Grian’s dream puts him into a different memory. In this one, he and Scar stare at Pizza’s resting place at the edge of the cliff. A single poppy lies on his coffin along with his carpeted saddle. Grian can’t help but feel sad for their lost pet. He takes in a deep breath to acknowledge his sadness. Scar wordlessly grabs his hand in a way only Scar would. He claps his palm over Grian’s knuckles…not quite holding hands, but enough to make it feel intimate. Grian felt the other man's eyes on him. He turned to face him.

Him and Scar were face to face, “Well…to the big lama in the sky,” Scar said softly. Grian nodded. Grian knew he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t remember what. He turned to look back at Pizza's grave. When he turned back, Scar was gone. The feeling of another hand against his blew away just like the sand that surrounded him.

Grian woke up cold: On the floor of a not-yet-built base, but not alone. Scar was right across from him. Still fast asleep.

Chapter Text

Ashamed. That's what Grian felt every time he looked at Scar. His striking green eyes felt like they stared into his soul, every awkward and embarrassing part. Grian knew there was no way that Scar knew what he did. It’s not like they were even together, at least not like that, in this world.

He stood at the second layer of his cake keep, looking out of the ravine he and Scar had settled next to. Session 2 was just a day ago, but the scorched Ranch of their Neighbors, Tango and Timmy, was still fresh. It made him wonder if what Tango had said to him a week ago still stood. After all, Scar was the one who burned it down, not him. It seemed Scar was extra apparent this season to make enemies.

The day was nearly past now, the sun not yet dipping into dusk. Grian rested his arm on a wall that was still missing the matching dripstone spikes of the others. He thought of BigB. If the gift he left (along with the implications) were not reciprocated, Grian would look foolish. But it was him and BigB. Neither of them could deny the chemistry they had. The two of them just worked.

“Grian? You up there?” Scar's easily recognizable voice echoed up the stairs. Grian didn’t know if he had the energy to talk to Scar at the moment. He had the thought to not respond at all and hope Scar goes back to doing whatever he had been doing the whole day.

He ignored his thoughts, “Yeah…I’m up here,”

Grian didn’t bother turning around. He knew when Scar made his way up to him. Grian had the sickly feeling of deja vu; a scene like this was eerily similar to when Scar had first pulled him off into the desert. On a tower just like this one, but the people standing in their places now were different.

“Was there something you needed?” Grian half turned his head. His words came out harsher than he meant them to.

Of the little he could see of Scar, the man seemed to shrink down into himself. His enthusiasm faltered. “Well…,” Scar found his footing again, “Just look at this,”

Grian turned to see what he held out. A custom jacket. It was a khaki with a built-in sling-type thing on it. He just stared at it. He looked it over a moment before saying, “What’s the pouch for then?” He looked at Scar expectantly.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Jellie goes in there to assist on adventures, of course!” He said with the typical Scar grandeur.

Grian shook his head in faux annoyance. “Right,”

He knew Scar saw his attempts to hide a smile, and it only egged him on. “I just figured, who better to help than Jellie? She really is a great companion.” Grian just shook his head once more. Scar’s smile widened, “I’m sure she’ll fight off anything or anyone! She’d be our protector, assisting us on our endeavors!” His eyes locked with Grian’s. Without realizing it, Grian must have had a sour look, because Scar stopped what he was saying. Scar smiled in a way of trying to gauge what Grian was thinking.

“…Us?” Grian asked in an exhale.

Scar swallowed. His olive branch of jokes and exaggeration had failed. Disappointment crossed over his face, “Well…I just figured,” He shrugged his large shoulders, “But yeah-no. She’ll just protect our shared life,” Scar faked a smile and looked away.

Grian hated how he didn’t feel bad. There was no them…certainly no us.

The two sat in awkward and heavy silence. Neither felt like saying anything. Grian turned his back to him once more. A soft breeze swept through his hair and wings. His shoulders tensed. Part of the reason he was so off was his wings. Grian was sure that in the whole building process he had gone through yesterday had gotten dust and grit between his feathers. It made his shoulders tense. It made him uncomfortable, but he could just shake it off, hopefully.

While lost in his thoughts, Scar had made his way next to him. “Hey, G?” Scar’s voice had become much softer and lost all of its joking undertones. “You alright?”

Grian turned his head slightly to see him better. “Yeah…I’m fine,” That is if fine meant that the borderline useless wings on his back felt like they were 10 pounds heavier and on fire.

“I don’t think you are. Just…tell me. I can try to help.” Scar reassured him. Grian hated it. He hated that Scar was still unwavering at his side, even though Grian gave him every reason to leave.

Grian sighed. He knew he could preen and clean all that was stuck in his wings himself, but with another person doing it was easier. An extra set of hands could reach all the spots he couldn’t. “Well, it’s just a bird thing…it’s really okay.” But Grian was sure that he would be fine. He couldn’t ask Scar to do anything more for him.

Scar gave him a worried look, “Are you sure I can’t help?”

Grian turned to him, “Do…Do you remember how to preen?” He could ask Scar for more. He knew Scar would let him. He knew Scar wouldn’t say no.

The other man tilted his head. “I thought you said it was fine?” He teased. A quick smile on his lips.

He gave Scar a look. “Never-”

“No! It was a joke,” Scar quickly interrupted him, “I do remember, to answer your question.” His green eyes traced over Grian’s wings, “Is that what you need help with?”

Grian suddenly felt embarrassed. “Yeah, but you don’t need to help.” He waved his hand dismally, “It’s okay,”

“Yes, but it’s okay for me to help too,” Scar lightly touched his shoulder. A crooked smile was still on his face. “Here, let's sit somewhere,” He looked around.

Grian had the thought of objecting and pulling away from Scar. But Scar's reassuring voice and soft touch lured him in. So he just gave in, “We can just sit on the floor. It should suffice.”

Scar nodded. The two situated themselves on the floor. Scar put his back against the wall of the keep. Grian, without much thought at all, situated himself between Scar’s legs. He flattened out one of his wings, and Scar’s hand softly grazed it, causing Grian to shiver.

“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong or if anything hurts,” He softly laughed from behind him. Grian nodded in return.

Scar’s hands began moving methodically through his feathers. Grian could feel himself relax at his touch. It felt foreign and all too similar all at once. The feeling was almost enough for Grian to stand up and throw himself off the keep. Scar moved in a way that made Grian feel grounded and far too close but too far away at the same time. It felt nice. He missed having someone else preen his wings for him. It gave him pleasure. But he couldn’t ignore the hot feeling of shame that rose inside of him. Here he was between Scar’s legs. Letting Scar do something that was only reserved for those Grian deeply trusts, and all he can think about is how he yearned for another version of Scar. He wishes he could crawl out of his skin. He wishes he could let himself enjoy this…let himself enjoy what he and Scar could have here, in this universe. But he can’t.

His Scar is dead.

“Hey,” Scar’s movement stopped. “Grian… are you okay?” Grian’s whole body felt hot and very perceived. His breathing was fast, and he could hear his heart in his ears.

He looked over his shoulder slightly. “Yeah,” Grian breathed out, “I just…yeah, I’m good,”

“We can stop if you’re not sure-,”

He turned so he could see Scar, “No!” He composed himself, “It’s good…just been a while.” He felt shame on his face.

Scar looked over his face before saying, “Alright…just relax this time. You seemed very… um stressed,” He placed a hand on his shoulder to help him get more situated.

Grian let Scar move him back to where he was before. He took a deep breath to collect himself. “Yeah…thank you, Scar.” It seemed much easier to talk to him, not seeing his face.

Scar said nothing and began to softly work through his feathers again. It still felt like a lot, but more manageable. The repeated movement was very relaxing once Grian got out of his thoughts. He closed his eyes.

The scene around him changed when he opened them again. It was dark, and all that surrounded him was sand. He sat the same as before. The same hands worked through his wings. But this was Third Life.

This was the desert.

He looked around. He and Scar sat beside the ruins of their tower. Grian got the sickly feeling of dread along with the buzzing of excitement.

He felt Scar’s hands stop, “They’re clipped…” He traced the spot where the primary feathers were missing.

“Yes, I know that,” Grian spoke with a soft but witty voice.

Scar exhaled a chuckle, “Alright, yeah.” He petted his wing, “So… you can’t fly?”

Grian turned, “Have you seen me fly?”

“Well, no, but I didn’t know they were clipped.” His eyes scanned Grian's face. “...Do you wish you could fly?”

Grian looked down. What's the point of a bird that can’t fly? What’s the point of his wings if they don’t work? He hated being stuck on the ground. He found himself watching the clouds, wishing he could be up in them. He missed it more than anything. “...Yeah,”

Scar’s eyebrows knitted together in worry. He took Grian’s hand. “I…,” He trailed off, “I didn’t… Sorry,” he said finally after struggling with his words.

“It’s fine,” Grian said more to assure Scar than himself. “They wouldn’t do me much good here anyway.”

Scar watched him for a moment. Scar seemed to have a million thoughts running through his brain, but none could form into words, as he just sat there. The silence was much too heavy for Grian's liking. Grian could no longer hold his gaze and looked down.

He finally moved. One of Scar’s hands softly found itself cupping Grian's cheek. Their eyes slowly meet again. Despite Scar being on his red life and having piercing red eyes looking back into Grian’s, He looked at him with nothing less than admiration.

“You’ll fly again,” Scar’s voice was soft. It made Grian sure that the words were and only would be for him. “I promise.”

The softness and intimacy of it all made Grian feel warm. His eyes scanned Scar for some kind of answer to his sudden sweetness. In return, Scar ran a hand through Grian's dusty blonde hair. His heart seemed ready to beat out of his chest as his eyes flicked down to the other man's lips.

As if it were the answer to their long and tense silence, Grian leaned forward, and Scar met him. When their lips met, it felt natural. Scar still held him. Grian’s hand lay against the other man's thigh as the two kissed.

Scar pulled away first, just enough to whisper into Grian’s ear. A promise that would haunt him. One that Scar would repeat when both their hands were bloody, and they hit each other senseless in a ring of cactus.

“No matter what, Grian…You’ll fly…I promise.”

When Grian opened his eyes again, there were no sweet promises, no soft lips to kiss him, and no Scar.

Grian was alone.