Chapter Text
“You know... when y’all said that the Captain wanted me on bedrest this is not what I had in mind.” Musing as you concentrate on trying to keep Link alive against the Thunderblight Gannon. When you came to two days ago Gaz handed you a very shiny and new Nintendo switch before explaining the reason why. “The Captain said, she’s on bedrest till we get back.” In the best impression of Price, even put two fingers on his head to mimic horns. They haven’t heard back from the Captain and the Lieutenant but Soap nor Gaz seem worried about the little contact. If anything, they’re enjoying the break they are having, especially in showing how to work the Switch they gave you.
“What did ye have in mind then?” The werewolf says, snapping your thoughts, his head laying right on your stomach. Something you didn’t notice since you started up your switch again for the day, too busy focusing on your game you guess but... you’ve made no move to correct it. Gaz is to your side with his wings spread out muttering “Come on Link, come on Link” practically into your ear even making an annoyed look once or twice when Urbosa would give advice.
You’ve noticed they’ve been more… Closer? At least more than whatever this is in the weeks you’ve been with them. Chalking it up and reasoning to yourself that “Hey, I did pass the fuck out because of the collar, that’s probably why they’ve been hovering around me.” Definitely no other reason…
Gaz’s hand has been absentmindedly petting on Soap’s hair ever since you started up the game load. “She probably wasn’t expecting to face this hard bastard that’s for damn sure. How many times have you died, love?” Breath against your ear as you bite on your lip in concentration, fingers clicking and moving fast but not fast enough for the Thunderblight. “Jesus,” inhaling sharply when it starts to move too fast. “Are we sure it’s a Blight and not a cheetah-hybrid.” Trying but failing to lighten your souring mood.
“Come on, come on, come on,” searching for some food to give Link because he’s down to a heart, “Shit, shit, shit, I ran out of fairies?!” It’s towards the last leg and you realize you didn’t prepare nearly enough as you should have. Sighing in defeat as you close the screen out and make Link stand still for the killing blow. Groaning in frustration as you let your Nintendo drop on your chest, hands pressing against your eyes as you let out a long sigh.
“Hate this game, stupid Link.”
“Aw Bonnie, Ye ken… I ken help ya try an beat ‘im for y—“
“No,” stubbornly holding onto your Nintendo. You’ve been on the Thunderblight for the longest. You’ve beaten all the blights but this one has been the hardest. Even after you begrudgingly accepted their help on finding the rubber amour.
“Lass,” he turns his head just a bit, his chin now pressing to your stomach, looking at you with the most shit eating grin ever. “Admit ye need help.”
“Nope.”
Gaz joins in, hoping your too distracted to sneakily move his hand away from Soap’s head to try and grab at your switch. “I see you, Garrick. Move any closer and I’m snipping your wings!” You threaten.
“You leave my beautiful wings out of this.”
“Beautiful, huh?” Turning your head to look at him. Forgetting just how close he is as your noses nearly touch and it takes just a second before you glare, scoffing at him, “They’re chicken wings.”
He matches your glare, “Didn’t seem to have a problem with my ‘chicken wings’ when I let you pet them.” His brows raised in apprehension. “And what did you say? ‘Oh Kyle, your wings are so soft!’.” A smuggish grin on his face as he looks down at you.
Wincing a lil as his voice pitches higher to try and mimic your voice. “That was before, now they are chicken wings.” Smacking at Soaps hand that’s creeped up on your switch.
“Ow,” making a show of whining like a kicked dog, even his ears flattening on his head for an added show. “My poor wee hand, now ye got to make it feel better by letting me play.”
“You have a switch at your home, Soap.”
“How do ye know that?” Sticking his tongue at you. “Maybe I dinnae have one maybe I do have one.”
“Cause you sent me a friend request.” Sticking your tongue at him now, like two very mature adults.
“What? Yer out yer mind, ye lost it ye have.”
“Oh really,” pressing the Home Screen to click out of the game and finding the friend request. You grin and turn it as he moves from where he’s been resting on your stomach to prop himself up on his elbows. “I was raised in the Center but that doesn’t mean I can’t put two and two together. MacQuackish.” Your eyes squinting and gleaming as you catch his play.
He looks it up and down, shaking his head, “Nope… that ain’t me.” Lip turning up, his tail starting to wag and brush against your leg. Gaz snickering isn’t as hidden as he’d like it to be considering he’s close to your ear.
“Really?” Deadpanning at the wolf that shakes his head seriously. “Huh, well I guess I’ll delete him from my best friend list since I accepted it,” tail twitches more, “Shame I really liked the Scotland flag behind the duck.” The slight flicker and you know you got him.
“Alright, alright, it’s me.” Conceding to you and Gaz starts laughing full on now.
“MacQuackish? Really, Johnny?”
“You’re one to talk, GearUpGarr.” Showing his profile of a screaming cartoon pigeon, a ‘really, dude’ type of look on your face. “Y’all are not as slick as you’d like. Don’t y’all specialize in sneaking?”
“That would be Ghost’s expertise. Hard to hide Soap’s giantass wolf and a flying ‘chicken’,” accentuating the word chicken as it seems he’s a still a lil chipped about it, “Though there are times when it can work in our favor if it’s during the night.”
That catches you off guard, “Wait a wolf?” Turning to look at Soap, “Like an actual wolf.”
“I’m a werewolf, Lass, course I can turn into one.”
“Seriously?”
“Serious,” nodding at you, confused on why you asked, “You’ve never seen a hybrid like me turn?” Genuinely asking as he was sure you would’ve seen hybrid like him before. There had to have been hybrids at the Centers, there’s no way it was just humans.
“No, I didn’t know you could” you look back at Gaz that has nearly the same look, “Wait so you can turn into a giant bird, don’t you? How did I not know this?”
Gaz chuckles, “I don’t turn into a giant bird. How I am is how I’ll be. Soap’s a different kind of hybrid.” He sees you starting to scratch along your collar, “Hey, hey, you didn’t know.”
“I..” the scratching is new, a nervous tick you’ve started to pick up over the weeks, “I should’ve known this.”
“It’s not like they teach ye anythin’ at the Centers, it’s alright.” Soap’s hand pulling on yours with a lil tug, so you won’t scratch your skin red. He’s noticed it too, keen eyesight an all that. They’ve both kept up with your tick these last two days. “Don’t feel bad, Bonnie, I to thought Gaz could turn into a giant chicken.”
“Oi!” Your frown starts to turn into a smile and then a laugh, “That’s it, neither of you get to touch my wings ever again” Wings ruffling as he moves and sits on his knees, his arms as crossed as his face.
“Kyle,” you start.
“Don’t you “Kyle” me,” huffing as his wings ruffle, he’d pout if it wasn’t for his pride.
“I’m sorry,” smiling sweetly at him as you push at Soap and sit up. “I won’t call you chicken again. You’re much too majestic for that.”
“Yeah, yer more like a,” The Scot says, his eyes catching yours and like two lightbulbs that click on over your head you both say,
“Pigeon.”
“That’s it!” Gaz yells, leaning over and taking a pillow to hit you both. You laugh and dive close to Soap as the Scot yells about defending you from the onslaught. Hovering over you as Soap’s arms encircle around your waist. Kyle is unrelenting as he yells about being called a trash bird.
You’re not as focused on the pillowing hits when Soap’s warm breath is right against your collared neck, his hands on your lower back as he presses you more into the bed. “S-Soap,” sharply inhaling when you feel pressure of his mouth on your collar. “What are you doing?”
The playfulness of the room drains, suddenly more serious when the scrape of his teeth scratches at your collar. Like a dog barely holding back the instinct on biting down. He leans back, a hard stare not directed at you, but at the damn metal and leather. A switch from his normally goofy side that even Kyle notices all too quickly and puts a stop to it before Soap can dive back down. Scruffing him immediately but that doesn’t deter Soap’s personal vendetta, his hand moves up your back to grab at your collar. Your eyes widen more in alarm, trying to get your mouth to move but he beats you to it.
Growling out something deeper, “I hate this thing ‘round yer neck.” A slight tug making you wince, “Wish I could take it off.”
“Soap?” You questioned.
“One day it’s gonna come off, if not.” He growls, looking more wolfish than man the way his teeth sharpen. Blue eyes dulling from their normal lightheartedness, you’re sure his hackles are raised now from how his tail flickering. “I’ll bite it off.” Your hand grasping his wrist as Kyle scruffs the Scot harder making him bare his teeth at him.
“Johnny, quit it.” You've never seen Kyle so serious, immediately he’s yanking Soap off. His hand gripped around Soap’s scruff just like Ghost would do when Soap needs a firmer hand, to guide him back from his instinct. “Go cool off. Now.”
The dull of his blue eyes slowly ease back into his normal brightness. He takes in a gulp of air before jumping off the bed and slamming the door behind him. He looked as if he wanted to say something before, he left but when your eyes caught he tensed and retreated. His hand balled into tight fists. Your eyes had followed his retreating body until the slam of the door.
“Gaz wha—“
“Full moons coming up.” He offers little explanation. As if expecting you to understand with just that alone.
“What does that?” Crossing your legs as you sit up. “What does that even mean, Kyle?” Snapping at him, wanting an explanation on why it looked as though Soap would’ve bitten your neck off. He would't have... right?
“They really didn’t teach you much, did they?” He mutters under his breath. You would’ve thought he was being condescending but if anything, he looks shocked and genuinely impressed by how lacking the Centers are.
“They taught basics,” as if you must explain yourself, feeling dumber for not knowing what the hell a full moon has to do with the switch up in Soap. “I read books, or at least what books they gave me, but it wasn’t enough to get me by I guess…”
Brown eyes look at you, seeing that he made you feel dumb and his fingers twitch, it's not your fault and now he feels like an ass. “I should’ve known,” he sighs. Getting comfortable on the bed, “It’s hard to explain. Simple sentences aren’t enough and quite honestly? Words don’t always cut it either.” His eyes flick over to the door, a crease in the brows as he looks worried. You’ve always been envious of the care that those two have for each other. More times than not they're in sync, right foot always walked together.
It’s something you’ve spotted. All four of them to some degree and extent just know each other. It’s more than relying on and fighting together, its “like a pack.” You mumble and Gaz turns back to you with a questioning look. “Nothing, sorry, I was thinking.”
“About?”
“About you… well all of you.”
“Oh?” His hands on the bed as he leans back. “And what’d you figure out.” Head turning to the side, curiousness glinting in his honeyed-brown eyes.
Your lips purse a slightly, “You all,” thinking over your words again. You don’t know if Harpy’s even pack or bond. You don’t know how other hybrids from different species even handle being in a room together the way the 141 do. You’ve spotted Kyle walking out of Ghost’s room sometimes, you’ve seen Price leave Soap’s. Actually, you’ve seen one or two of them leave Ghost room quite a bit. It’s strange how you tend to see them fix up their shirt or hair, granted you’ve thought nothing of it until now. Assuming meetings or discussing things since you’ll see a heated face step out on Price or Soap. Their lighter complexion giving it away while Gaz feathers look more preened and softer.
“You all are?” He hums to you, a brow raised, “what are we?” Kyle encourages, a spark in his eyes. A grin that’s more than just a smile pulling back on his face. Nodding at you, “Go on, Witcher.”
“Y’all are…” The looks they’ve given each other; their hands touch more regularly than they do towards the other soldiers on base. Hell, even Ghost will place a hand or move his knee closer to one of them if he’s sat down by them. “Bonded?” You state, you’d feel stupid to ask. “Ya know, bonded like,” you swallow thickly, not knowing if it’s right to say the next word or if he’ll get offended.
“Like mates?” He offers and you nod, breathing out air you didn’t know you were holding onto. “We are.” The finality in Kyles voice makes you shiver. You’ve noticed he’s more up, looking broader with his arms crossed. “Was wondering when you’d figure that out but considering how recently you became aware of Soap being able to transform, I’m not that surprised.”
“I mean I noticed something was different but again, I was raised in the Centers. Most of which were filled with confused children.” You huff, looking down as you’ve never really spoke about being raised in the Center. Ghost being the only one to mention your… friend.
“I’m sorry.” Saying it so suddenly that you jerk up.
“What?” Eyes widening.
“It’s not right," he states, clearing his throat, "I’ve heard some horror stories about the Centers from the few kids in my neighborhood growing up.”
“Did you believe them?”
The question hangs heavy as you stare at him. He swallows thickly, “No… I didn’t believe it.”
“Figures.”
“Witcher,” he says as you stand up from the bed. His hand reaching out to hold your wrist, “Look at me, please.” He asks as you’ve turned your head. You don’t know why it hurts that he didn’t believe the kids from his childhood. Maybe it’s because he was the first to come up to you when being introduced. He notices the frown growing on your face and he quickly says, “I didn’t believe them at first till I befriended one of them. I saw some scarring on their sides and neck. The occasional flinch from noises.”
“How old were they?” Murmuring low as you finally turn to him. “Are you still friends?” Curiosity getting the best of you at the mention of him befriending one of your kind.
“He was 9,” looking up at you as his thumb rubs against your wrist, “went in at 7 and he came back…”
“Different?” Eyes narrowing when his words trail off, you’ve noticed he’s the better one about choosing his words. Gaz tries to be kinder whereas someone like Ghost would just be blunt.
Hearing him scoff at your choice of word, “That’s an understatement.”
He’s biting on his lip now, his own nervous habit, “I was 9 when he left at 7. They took him right out of school, didn’t even tell his ma where he was going. All I did was watch as he cried while being shoved into a car.” Hand gripping your wrist even more as he tugs you to sit back on the bed. “When he came back, he didn’t laugh as much. Hell, he was quiet and barely even talked. His eyes were older than what a 9-year-old was supposed to be.” Taking a breath, “Hybrids are taught to stay away from one’s like you, but I was curious. I asked him what it was like in the Centers, and it shocked me to my core.” Looking at you now his face softens, “I called him a liar and he… he cried, this kid that rarely said anything cried because I didn’t believe him.”
“Kyle...”
“I ran to my dad. Told him about it and he made me march all the way up to him and made me apologize.” His lips pulling into a little smile, “He told me that a boy that age wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
“Seems like your dad is kind.”
“The kindest, a good man.” Feathers puffing with pride, “as for the boy,” the puffing deflates, “we eventually became friends. When my wings started growing stronger, I even flew him around. Gave him a flight feather too, those are important to Harpy’s.” He takes in a deep breath. “Jacob Eldin, that was his name. He never gave it to me but he wrote his name down so I could say it ‘cause he got tired of me calling him Gandalf.” A mirth in his eyes that holds sadness, a loss that you’re all too familiar with.
“What…” you start softly as you hand takes his off your wrist to hold it. “What happened to him.” The way he speaks in past tensed, a memory of someone dear. You already know but…
“He uh,” his eyes shutting, recalling the memory as if it happened moments ago, “he had to do the routine blood work even with the collar off. I know it’s to just keep check but when he turned 15 the magic in his blood spiked.” His hand tightening around yours, “he told me he couldn’t go back. Told me that he’d rather die and he...”
You can see how much this hurts him, the way his chest heaves as he refuses to look at you now, “Kyle? You don’t have to speak on this anymore.”
“No, no I have too because not talking about it attributes to what the government is able to get away with.” His hand leaving yours to cup your face, “I hate how it pushed my best friend to death. I hate that I couldn’t do anything…” eyes reddening, blinking back the gloss in his eyes, finally they flicker to you and your heart starts to clench. “He… he hung himself in his closet. I still… I still remember his mother screaming. I still remember my dad being a first responder to the scene.”
“I’m sorry, Kyle.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault you were born with magic.” His thumbs grazing on your cheeks, your own hands shaky as you pull him into a hug. Gaz readily accepts it, needing it more than he thought he would. “I want to do right by you. You deserve that much, Witcher.” His wings starting to enclose around the both of you now. His hands moving down so his arms can hold you closer to him. Normally you would tense up at the touch but it’s comforting. It helps that he and the rest have been trying to treat you differently.
After a bit of time he let’s go, guessing that he may feel a bit awkward since he's rubbing the back of his neck. He asks, “You alright?”
“I should be askin’ you that, Kyle.” Standing up and your hand subconsciously rubs on your collar. “You know… I’m sure Jacob cared about you…” seeing him swallow you then say, “and I’m sure he’s at peace. Magic-Bornes in the Centers told me that when we die we are reborn, that are magic holds onto our key parts of our souls. Maybe he’s around and you just don’t know it?”
“Yeah…” your bit of comfort seemed to help him, more than he's ready to admit “Yeah, maybe he is. Asshole for not coming up to me though.” Rolling his eyes. A growing curiousness on how’d you know about something like that. He figured that the Centers wouldn’t teach you much. It’s not like the school he went to even mentioned much. Barely a section in his studies. “How’d you know about that? Is it part of your culture?”
“Yup,” standing your arms up to stretch them. “Come on, I wanna find Soap and then I can give you both a 101 on Magic-Bornes. Just cause the Centers didn’t teach us a lot about my kinds history that doesn’t mean that the kids and on the rare cases, adults, didn’t have their own knowledge to pass on.”