#gridoc

"D... DOC!" Grian shouted. Or tried to. His voice was breathy and he was so cold from the water that he couldn't reach his full volume. "Doc! Help! Please!"

Doc's horns flashed off the sunlight as he whirled where he was walking along the riverbank to see Grian in the water, fighting to get to shore.

Without hesitation, Doc pulled a fishing rod out of his inventory and cast the line. The hook caught in Grian's jumper and undershirt with expert precision. Doc wound the reel and pulled Grian against the water and toward the bank.

Grian hauled himself out of silt and rock and water once he was shallow enough to get his feet under him. He made it to the dry land beyond the bank and just collapsed on his front, wings still dragging behind him, their tips still in the water. He shivered and shook, soaked through to the bone and still clothed. Freezing as the breeze brushed over him.

Doc crouched and unhooked the hook of his fishing rod from Grian's clothing. "Sorry," he said. "I can't swim without preparation. My arm and eye weren't in swim mode. I couldn't just jump in to save you—my cybernetics would short out and then we'd both be stuck."

Grian waved a weak, shaky hand. "... 's fine," he gasped out. "Jus'... jus' grateful... I'm out."

Doc inspected him. "How'd you end up in the water?"

"F... fell."

"Out of the sky?"

Grian's face would be burning up in embarrassment if his blood wasn't fighting to keep his core warm. "Fell asleep flying," he admitted. "I... I've been awake... for a while."

Doc's head cocked to one side. "How long is a while?"

Grian tried to shrug, but his wings were too soaked to follow the movement. The most he got was a twitch. "Few days."

Doc heaved a sigh. "Pesky bird. Can't even take care of yourself," he chided. But there was no real bite to his tone. Unlike usual. "Is that why your wings are tattered? When did you last preen?"

"C... couple days."

"No wonder they were making you sink."

Grian's shivering hadn't stopped. His teeth chattered. "Y... yeah."

Doc made a face. "Come on, little bird," he said. "Let's get you dried and warmed up."

Not waiting for an invitation, Doc stowed the fishing rod and scooped Grian off the ground into a careful bundle against his chest. He was careful to not let the plating of his cybernetic arm pinch any of Grian's skin or feathers as he folded Grian's wings to his back and held them too so they wouldn't hang limply in the air and drag them both down.

His butterfly wings opened and fluttered to stretch out before they beat the air hard and lifted them both into the sky.

The speed of Doc's flight made the wind even colder and Grian shook even harder. Curling as close to Doc as he could get in order to try and absorb some of Doc's body heat.

Thankfully, Doc took Grian back to Grian's own base. Much closer to the shopping district than Doc's.

He touched down on the porch of the cyan cliff house and carefully carried Grian inside. "Where is all your stuff?" he asked.

"S-s-s-s-storage hut. Down below," Grian said through chattering teeth.

Doc sighed. "Your lips are turning blue," he observed. "Can I get your wet clothes off? Or do you want me to leave?"

Grian tried pulling up the hem of his own jumper. But his hands were shaking too hard to cooperate. "Y-y-y-you c-can he-elp."

Doc set Grian down on a windowsill in the sun, rather than the bed, and carefully unbuttoned the jumper and undershirt's openings for his wings. Once those were undone, he pulled the jumper over Grian's head. It landed with a rather wet plop on the floor. The undershirt quickly followed.

"Can I take off your shoes and trousers?"

Grian nodded.

The shoes came off easily enough, but Doc was extra gentle and mindful of Grian's trousers. They ended up in the pile on the floor too.

Doc went over to a chest along one wall. Grian's clothing. He pulled out some new underwear. "Put these on. I'll turn my back." He handed them over and waited. After a few moments, Grian tapped him on the arm and he turned to see Grian had changed.

Doc nodded and yanked the blankets off the bed. He wrapped them around Grian's torso under his arms, leaving his shoulders, arms, and head exposed. But also his wings. Which were still sopping, along with his messy light brown curls.

Doc found some towels and began to carefully dry off Grian's wings, prioritizing them as they were the largest thing still wet and would be worse than his head at losing body heat for the moment. He was careful not to bend or break any of the feathers as he sponged the wings dry as best he could. "Y... you've done this before," Grian said. Not a question. He could feel the experience in Doc's fingers. Doc’s movements were too practiced for a non-Avian without feathers.

Doc shrugged. “Once or twice.” That’s a lie and they both know it. He’s clearly had plenty of times drying wings. Grian wondered whose for a brief moment. But he didn’t press Doc any further. For once. Just grateful to have the help.

“I, er… I’ll be honest. I wasn’t sure you’d help me,” Grian admitted.

A towel fell over his head, casting him into darkness. Making him sleepy. Stupid bird genes. Doc rubbed at his hair rougher than he had his wings to dry it off. “That’s fair, actually,” he said. “We do not always treat each other kindly. You pesky bird.”

Grian smiled. Weak and watery while he shivered. “Yeah. But thank you.”

Doc shrugged.

Grian’s wings were dry enough. Doc repositioned the blankets to be fully draped over and around Grian, including his wings. He helped Grian onto the bed to be more comfortable. Then took Grian’s wet clothes and shoes outside to lie on the porch in the sun and dry off.

When he came back inside, Grian was still shivering. Had been the whole time. Doc settled his hands on his hips. “You’re still cold. Your lips are still blue.”

Grian didn’t respond to that. Just kept shaking.

Doc made a face. He took a deep breath. “You’d warm up better if you had someone else’s body heat to share. Your body isn’t producing enough on its own.”

“O-o-okay?”

Doc’s jaw tightened. “Would you be okay if I warmed you up?”

Grian blinked. Several times. “Wh… what?” In truth, the moment Doc said that, Grian had thought about shouting for Scar to come over. Scar was a living furnace in his own right most of the time. But… come to think of it, Scar was down for the count. His health hadn’t been good recently.

“Look. You can call someone else, but—”

“No!” Grian protested. Too quickly. What was up with him today? “No. I-it’s okay if you do.”

Doc unbuttoned his lab coat. “Okay. Open the blankets.” He shed the coat and settled onto the bed beside Grian. Who dutifully opened the blankets. Doc wrapped them around both of them and drew Grian against his chest. He didn’t wear a shirt under his lab coat often. Today was one of those days where his torso was bare. Grian’s cold skin against his made him hiss, but he didn’t push him away. Just drew the blankets to cover as much as he could. Which. Considering Doc’s height and Grian’s wings, really wasn’t all that much. Just barely enough to hold some heat in.

Grian snuggled right up against Doc and closed his eyes. His trembling wasn’t as bad as it had been.

“Th… thank you,” Grian said again. Quietly.

Doc hummed. A low rumble in his chest. “You’re welcome.”

Grian couldn’t help it. Doc was so warm and he was so tired from fighting the river. He felt his eyes slipping shut.

Doc loosed a long, slow breath, fluttering some dry flyaway hairs on the top of Grian’s head. “Come closer, little bird,” he said softly, hooking one hand around Grian’s leg and picking him up to set him in his lap. Grian burrowed even closer from there. Shaking quieting some.

“Doc?”

“Mm?”

“You’re kinder than I give you credit for.”

“Mm.”

Grian dropped off to sleep.

—

When he woke, it was dark out.

The memories crashed back all at once. His body was sore from the swim. His neck was cricked. He was—

Wait.

Why was he sitting up?

Slowly, his eyes blinked open, sticky from sleep.

Doc was lounged back on Grian’s bed, still holding him close. Still warm. His head was back on the custom headboard Scar had carved and he was dozing himself.

Doc stayed?

Grian would have expected to wake up alone. Bundled up. No longer at risk for hypothermia.

But Doc was still here. On his bed with him. Holding him even as he slept.

Grian… didn’t know how to handle that.

He didn’t know what to do. Get up and leave? Wake Doc? Find some way to hold this over Doc’s head for the rest of time?

Stay right where he was?

Ohhh—that was by far the most appealing option. Just linger right where he was. Absorbing Doc’s heat. Hearing that strong, steady heartbeat under his ear. Feeling the rhythm of Doc’s breathing gently shift him. Doc was firmly muscled but not uncomfortably so. Using his shoulder as a pillow was the reason for the crick in Grian's neck, but he didn't want to move.

Weird.

Grian was well aware that Doc was still out for revenge regarding Grian and some of the other Hermits covering the Perimeter—with the primary target of that revenge being Grian himself. He should not want to be right here in Doc's arms.

But he did.

Something about him waking seemed to rouse Doc, who took a deep breath. Grian hastily snapped his eyes shut and tried to look like he was still asleep. Just to see what Doc would do.

Probably unceremoniously dump Grian off his lap and directly onto the floor with a shout of protest.

Grian tried not to tense up at the thought of that, bracing for impact before it even started.

But he felt...

Doc's hand in his hair?

The organic hand. Gently twirling one of Grian's loose curls around his fingers.

"I know you're awake, pesky bird," Doc said quietly. Almost singsong. Almost threatening.

Grian didn't respond, still trying to pretend to be asleep.

Doc hummed in thought. His rumbling chuckle was quiet.

He scooped Grian up as he stood from the bed before setting Grian on the mattress on his side, readjusting the blankets to cover him instead of being wrapped around them both.

"You're a menace. But... you're no longer in danger of freezing to death," he murmured as he tucked the blankets under Grian's chin and headed toward the door. The rustling of his crisp lab coat being picked up and put back on was audible.

His footsteps got farther away.

Grian should let it happen.

He should let Doc leave.

He should—

"Wait! Doc, wait!"

He sat bolt upright in bed, his feathers puffing up. His eyes were wide.

Doc paused a step away from reaching the doorway, prosthetic on the doorframe. He turned. "Hm?"

Grian threw off the covers and bounded out of bed. He felt uncomfortably exposed, being in front of Doc in just his underwear. His wings folded around himself a bit to keep himself a bit more modest. Grian wasn't Scar—he'd never really been much one for showing skin.

He put himself between Doc and the door. He never got over how tall Doc was. It almost wasn't fair. Doc and Mumbo were around the same height but Doc was so much more imposing.

Grian's puffed up wings filled most of the space of the door frame, even draped around him as they were.

But now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. What to do. Why he didn't want... whatever this was... to end.

Doc's butterfly wings opened and closed before folding back down against his spine. He was giving Grian an expectant look. Waiting for whatever Grian was going to say.

Grian inhaled sharply. "Look," he began, brain working fast but still so, so groggy from being sleepy. "I know you and I have a bad track record of letting bygones be bygones with one another. I... I admit I probably deserve it. We always want to escalate. Get back at one another. Break even if we can't get one over on the other." He worried his lower lip between his teeth for a second. "I just... after this... er... whatever tally sheet you're keeping score with... add... seven. To whatever you're beating me by. Add seven more."

Doc's cybernetic eye whirred softly as the lens adjusted and refocused. "Seven?"

Grian blinked a few times. "Er... admittedly I was just pulling out a random number." He began to count on his fingers. "Pulling me out of the river. Flying me home. Getting me out of my wet clothes. Getting me something dry to change into and my blankets. Drying my wings and hair. Sharing your body heat with me well into the night until I wasn't at risk of hypothermia anymore." Grian scrunched his eyebrows.

"That's six," Doc pointed out.

Grian looked up from his fingers to meet Doc's gaze. "Help me preen my wings? Make it seven? I can't... I struggle to reach the feathers closest to my spine even with my brush. And you obviously know how to handle Avian wings." He cleared his throat. "Please."

Doc regarded him thoughtfully. For a long time.

Some tension eased out of his shoulders. "Very well," he said. "But first, you're going to get in the shower. You smell like river water."

Grian sniffed his feathers—and wrinkled his nose. Doc was right. Yuck.

He bounced on the balls of his feet for a second. "Don't go anywhere," he said.

Doc hummed in acknowledgment as Grian rushed to his bathroom.

He took a warm shower and scrubbed river water from his skin, hair, and feathers until he stopped smelling it. His wings got waterlogged again, but this time it wasn't so bad.

Bird wings weren't typically supposed to be cleaned with soap unless they were properly mucky. Usually a rinse with water and some preening oil was all they needed. But Grian broke out his wing shampoo to get out the gunk of river water.

Once he was fully clean, he got out of the shower and hastily dried his skin and hair, pulling on a thin dressing gown.

He grabbed his preening brush and extra vial of oil (in case the amount from his glands wasn't enough) and went out into the main room.

Doc had stayed. Grian had kept his shower as short as possible in case Doc's patience had run out. But Doc was still there. Looking out a window. "Impressive wheat field," he said. "I can't imagine the bread is a good food source for you."

Grian snorted. "It's just there for aesthetic, really," he said. "Which doesn't stop Mumbo or Scar from stealing some of it to make packed mud. But it's meant to be there for visual appeal. Not for bread."

Doc eyed him over one shoulder and bounced his eyebrows.

Grian flapped a little excess water from his wings and began to preen them with the brush. He had a lot of practice, preening his wings. He could preen the feathers close to his spine. It was just difficult and uncomfortable. Always easier when someone else did it. Even if that someone was a friend who was also a... rival.

"Rival" sounded nicer than "enemy" and Grian and Doc never truly hated each other.

Doc's eyes tracked the movements of Grian's preening brush, singularly focused on it. Grian fought down a blush at being so closely observed.

When he reached the parts he struggled with most, he held the brush out for Doc. "Please?" he asked.

"Turn. Give me your back."

Grian nodded. Doc took the brush and Grian turned around.

He couldn't help the shudder that cascaded down his spine that always came with someone else preening his wings. Not quite a tickle, but an involuntary response to vulnerability. Avians were well-known for being flighty—pun not intended, but also kind of intended—and trusting someone with their wings was often pretty difficult, no matter how well they knew the other person.

But Doc managed to spread the preening oil over Grian's wings with only the brush. Never once touching the feathers with either organic or cybernetic hand.

Which...

Come to think of it...

He'd never touched Grian's wings with his bare hands when he'd been toweling them dry either.

The only time he had touched Grian's wings with his bare hands was when he'd been folding them up against Grian's back to be able to fly them back to Grian's base without the wings dragging. Something that could be considered more of an urgent situation.

"Who taught you Avian customs?" Grian asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"You're not touching my wings with your hands. Who taught you about that?"

"No one. But I know wings are sensitive. No matter whether they're Avian, angel, demon, dragon... or insect." His butterfly wings fluttered a bit and folded back. "A sensitive subject, rather. And it's rude to touch them without permission."

Grian suppressed a shudder but still peeked over his shoulder. "It's a little more than rude for Avians," he said softly. Doc hummed in acknowledgment—and maybe a bit of curiosity. "It's intimate."

Doc's movements slowed and became even more deliberate. Careful not to touch the feathers. Grian's shoulders slouched just a bit, causing his wings to lower. What was that sensation in his chest? A strange sort of... tightness. Grian had never been the best at understanding what emotions he was feeling—or, at least, putting labels on them.

Disappointment?

Wh... why? Why would he be disappointed that Doc was being careful not to touch his wings? If anything, he should be grateful. Considering their tempestuous relationship, Grian should be expecting Doc to grab a handful of feathers and tear them out. Even if he knew Doc really wasn't that callous or cruel.

"You can, you know," Grian said, the words falling out of his mouth before he thought them through.

"What?" Doc asked.

"Touch them." His brain finally caught up and he scrambled to amend, "I mean. You're helping me out. If your fingers accidentally brush up against a feather from a wonky brush angle, I'm not gonna assume you're coming onto me or something."

Doc grunted acknowledgment. "Okay," he said.

Grian reached back where he felt one of his feathers was loose and plucked it out with a little hiss of irritation. Plucking feathers hurt a little worse than plucking hairs when they were loose.

The feather was bedraggled and almost broken. Grian made a face and tossed it to the floor so he could throw it in the bin later.

Doc's brush strokes stopped. "There you go. I think I got all of it."

"Thank you. I really appreciate the hand." He turned around to take the brush from Doc—

Only to realize how close Doc was standing to him. His heart rate began to thud in his chest. Doc's cybernetic eye's lens adjusted to focus on Grian's face.

Grian knew he should take a step back. He should reach out for the brush and let Doc get back to whatever grind he'd been taking a brief break from when he'd been strolling the shopping district's river bank. He should ignore the way his own breathing was coming in shallower. The urge he was fighting to look down at Doc's mouth. The urge to step up onto something taller to close the distance between their heads. He shouldn't even think about leaning closer...

But Doc also wasn't stepping back either. Just staring down at Grian with his organic pupil dilated from the darkness.

The darkness. Right. That was why. That was the only reason.

Grian couldn't help it—his wings shivered.

He cleared his throat a little. "Thank you for staying," he said quietly. "I owe you... seven."

The corner of Doc's mouth quirked, but didn't become a full smile. "Many more than that, pesky bird," he replied.

"Seven more," Grian corrected. "More than what I already owed you."

Doc hummed with another almost-smile. "I'll add them to the list." His horns were gleaming in the light from the torches that lit Grian's cliffside house. Pristinely polished, as always.

Not that Grian was noticing.

Doc definitely wasn't noticing the shiny luster of Grian's freshly-preened feathers either. Not at all.

They just stared at each other for a few charged seconds. Sharing space. Sharing heat. Grian still mostly undressed but not really noticing or caring.

He swallowed lightly.

"I... might have a way for you to settle one of those," Doc said quietly.

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm."

"What did you have in mind?" Grian asked.

Doc contemplated him for a moment, head tilting just slightly to one side. "An experiment," he said.

"What... what sort of experiment?"

Doc reached up with his organic hand, his forefinger curled a little farther forward than the rest of his fingers and his thumb raised a bit, hovering under Grian's chin but not yet touching.

Grian's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it trying to escape his ribcage.

"May I... kiss you?" Doc's voice was low and soft. Difficult to hear over the roaring of Grian's blood in his ears.

His breathing sped up just a bit. Making his response breathless and quiet. "Please."

Doc gently pinched his chin. His fingernail was long enough to brush the line where his lower lip met the rest of his skin. Doc bent down as Grian's head automatically tilted opposite Doc's for the best angle.

He couldn't help the way his pinions flapped—almost in excitement—when their lips met.

Doc's were warm and ever-so-slightly chapped.

Grian felt like electricity was zinging through his blood. His heart was pounding even harder and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He released a sigh of contentment out his nose and leaned.

He reached up and wrapped his arms around Doc's neck to bring himself just that little bit closer.

Doc's chuckle rumbled in his chest and out his nose. "Pesky little bird is greedy, hmm?" he asked quietly against Grian's lips. His hands—big, strong, warm—both moved to cup Grian's hips.

Grian rolled his body to be closer. "Always. Thought you'd've figured that out by now," he replied just as quietly. Which earned him another chuckle.

Doc put a little pressure on Grian until he was forced to take a step back, his legs brushing his bed. "Want me to give you more?"

Grian snickered. "I'll just steal it if I do," he whispered mischievously.

Doc huffed in irritation and used his grip on Grian's hips to nudge him backward. He flopped, somewhat gracelessly, onto the bed. Breaking his grip around Doc's neck. "Pesky bird," Doc accused. But he was smiling. A hungry, sultry smile that made Grian's heart hammer.

Grian couldn't help but smirk. "Grumpy goat," he retorted.

Doc bent forward and planted one hand on Grian's chest, pushing him to lie down on the bed. "Ohhh... we're definitely settling something tonight," he said. His tone would have been threatening if it wasn't so full of desire.

"I dare you," Grian said.