#gravesbeaksweek

Irritatingly loud pop music seemed to blast in every direction. Strobe lights flashed all around and made it difficult for Graves to get his bearings. The smell of alcohol was thick in the air, like a damp fog. The falcon had never been to a club before, and this experience only made him determined never to set foot in one again! "Gnngh..." He grumbled, reaching for the shoulder of his employer and boyfriend. The parrot was in the middle of a selfie with a pair of hens Graves had never seen before in his life. The young women exchanged their peep handles for tagging purposes and went about their clubbing with large smiles on their faces. 

Beaks turned to regard his bodyguard. "Heey, Gravesy! Sheesh, if you wanted in on some selfie action, you shoulda told me! All I got was your hand!" He wrapped an arm around the other affectionately. Any other time it'd be nice but between being on the job and the awful onslaught of noise and lights all around... Falcon frowned to himself and removed the arm.

"Actually, I was hoping we could leave... I'm beginning to get a headache-"

"Whaaat? Cut this party early and just leave?!" Mark scoffed and leaned against the taller man. Waving a hand in the air dismissively, he grinned up at Graves. "That'd be bad for my image! I'd go from cool guy Mark Beaks to lame nerd Mark who reads books at home! C'mon, maybe you just need a drink or two, you know? To take the edge off! This is supposed to be fun, and you're making it very not fun." His fingers danced their way along Falcon's beak, giving him a little poke to emphasis his words. 

Ignoring the urge to nip his boyfriend's fingers, Falcon grimaced. "I don't want a drink. This place probably serves the cheap scotch! Can't we just go home-"

"Ah-bap-bap! Let's stick a pin in it, big guy!" Miming the gesture of literally sticking a pin in the air, Mark gestured to the newest group of fans waiting eagerly for a selfie. "I gotta have some face time with my people! We'll talk about this later, 'kay?" And just like that, the parrot was snapping pictures with the crowd. 

Sighing lowly, Falcon made his way to the bar and slid onto one of the cleaner stools. His hand massaged a temple, by now the throbbing in his brain seemed to be timed exactly with the bass drops of the music. Eventually it got to the point that Graves had to use both hands, continuing to rub when something touched his shoulder. 

Reacting fast, Graves raised an arm in a judo chop that was about to strike whoever had touched him! There was a startled yelp, and a duck narrowly avoided getting struck upside the face. "Whoa dude!"

Falcon's eyes performed a reconnaissance of the young man who'd touched him. A rainbow tank top, a pair of black shorts, and a skinnier physique. Hm. Probably just a harmless clubber. No threat at all. "Sorry about that. Reflexes." Arm by his side once more, he turned to fully face the timid duck. "Do you need this chair?”

"N-no, no, sorry dude." Taking a deep breath, the duck relaxed when it was clear Graves wasn't going to beat him up. "I just noticed you sitting here all by yourself. And a guy in a suit in a club...kinda stands out." The comment made the falcon a bit self conscious, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, it's cool! I kinda like it. It's very...handsome."

"Oh." Such a compliment from someone who wasn’t Mark felt...awkward. Graves was hardly a stranger to being hit on, but he was in a committed relationship now! 

"I'm Duncan. If you're not waiting for anybody...maybe I can keep you company? Buy you a drink?" Duncan smiled shyly, brushing his feathered bangs out of his eyes. 

"I'm actually here with someone, they're rather busy and we'll be leaving soon anyway." The duck seemed friendly enough, but Falcon would rather nip this right in the bud. Nothing wrong with a stern but gentle refusal.

"Maybe we could exchange numbers or something-?"

"HISSSSSSS!" Before Duncan could hand over his digits, a weight suddenly launched onto Graves from behind and began to hiss like an irritated snake! The bodyguard nearly flipped the offender off of his back before he caught Mark's bright yellow eyes. His pupils were narrowed into small dots, and his arms wrapped tightly around Graves' neck. His legs, the same but around his waist. 

"Oh my gosh! Mark Beaks?!" Duncan gasped, immediately starstruck.

Graves became quickly embarrassed by this turn of events. "Mr. Beaks, please control yourself." This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as the parrot's grip only tightened. Not that it was painful for the muscular bird, but it was certainly alarming. Mark was always so mellow and worried about his image. And now here he was, gripping onto Graves as if he might fade away! 

"Mr. Beaks, can I have a selfie? My friends won't believe I actually met you-!" 

When offered the phone, Mark merely slapped it out of Duncan's hands. The phone fell down onto the floor with a clatter. Duncan stared, mouth agape as if he only just realized that the CEO was upset with him. 

"Get lost, loser!" Mark screeched with a seething glare. By now the crowd around them was beginning to take notice of the parrot's histrionics. Falcon spared only a small glance at the duck that had started all of this before he darted for the exit. Camera flashes followed them out, likely getting little else but a shot of their backs as they left.

As shameful as their exit had been, Falcon was relieved to have peace at last. No loud music, and the streetlamps above were amazingly consistent. It had taken several blocks for the parrot to relax. He had settled into holding the other as if he were giving a piggy back ride. Mark's grip slacked and he could feel the parrot's beak was pressed against his neck. Graves decided to take the scenic route back to Beaks' mansion, it was longer but they likely needed the time in order to talk. Though he refused to say a thing, just waiting for the parrot to say something. 

"Gravesy, you love me, right?" Finally he spoke, though it wasn't exactly what Graves had been expecting to hear. His voice was muffled and a bit strained. 

"What?" Graves glanced over a shoulder, but couldn't find the parrot's eyes as they were buried in the falcon's feathers. "Of course I do. If I didn't, I would have thrown you off by now."

"But...but you were talking to that guy. He was totally hitting on you and you didn't even punch him!" Despite how upset the parrot sounded, the falcon couldn't hold back a soft chuckle. "Don't laugh, it's not funny!" He returned to gripping Graves' jacket as if it were a lifeline. 

"Mark, I can decide for myself when punching is necessary. The duck was being friendly. If he made me uncomfortable or crossed a line, I would have 'punched him in the face', as you so crudely put it." The assurance didn't seem to lighten the parrot's mood at all. Frowning to himself, Graves aimed their path for a nearby bench. Once close, he grabbed hold of Mark's arms and slowly pried him off. Eventually he had the other by the nape of his cardigan, and the falcon set him down upon the wooden bench gently.

"Hmph!" Turning his face away like a petulant child, Mark continued to pout even as Falcon joined him on the bench. 

This must be serious...he hadn't even seen the other reach for his phone since they'd left the club! With a deep frown set upon his beak, Graves reached for the parrot's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Mark...talk to me. Don't you trust me?" Was this what this was? A trust thing? 

The question earned Falcon a peek from Mark. "I trust you, Gravesy, but I don't trust that guy! Or...anyone, really! Don't you know how irresistible you are?" Was the younger man being serious or just trying to stroke Falcon's ego to make him drop it? Either way, it made the older man smirk. 

"I can handle guys like him. I may be irresistible, but I can handle myself!" Two could play this game of stroking the egos. Reaching out, Graves pulled the parrot into his lap easily. Aside from a soft gasp, Mark remained quiet. Graves cupped the smaller bird's chin and tilted his face up so they were eye to eye. "Don't you know I'm all your's?"

Finally, he seemed to be getting somewhere. Mark's eyes widened before he surged forward and wrapped his arms around Graves' neck firmly. Their beaks pressed together in a passionate kiss as Mark's fingers began to roam and caress Falcon's feathers. In return, he moved to support the parrot's back, deepening the kiss, Mark’s elated trilling vibrated against the falcon’s chest. The sensation was familiar and welcome.

When their beaks parted, the two were starry-eyed. Mark recovered first, a large grin stretching across his beak. "Okay Graves, you're off the hook~! Make up selfie!" He pressed their cheeks together as he took a commemorative picture to show to all of his followers. Falcon rolled his eyes at the display, inwardly relieved.