#and inadequate. and lame and boring. and cold. and dismissive.

[nega-aria]

Gyro and Mark visiting a cemetery at night

Ok, I suck super hard at keeping things short, so these may go slower than I expected, but I’m having a lot of fun with this so thanks for the request!

“You First”

Rating: SFW

Characters: Mark Beaks, Gyro Gearloose, Falcon Graves, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera

Ship: semi Beaksloose but not very shippy

Warnings: mild swearing

“You go first.”

“Like hell I’m going in there first! What happened to youproving how oooh so much better you are than me?”

“Pfft, don’t gotta prove facts, bitch.”

“That’s literally how they become facts.”

“Look just go already!” Mark yelled, his voice quivering andshrill in the cool night air as he finally turned to face Gyro. “Unless you’drather go back to the party and tell everyone you were too chicken.”

Damn that party, and damn that smirk on Mark’s face. Gyroscowled at the outstretched arm that was extended towards the gate, hiding hisown nerves behind a demeaning attitude. “For the love of Mewton, you are such ababy!” Gyro scoffed, pushing Mark aside roughly enough to completely relocatehim. The frustration fueled anger lasted long enough for Gyro to throw themetal gates open dramatically, but he cringed in that entryway when the ironrods gave way to the inky abyss before them.

The obvious click of a phone camera went unnoticed as Gyrostarted wide eyed at the scene before him. Trees twisted in seemingly unnaturalways, their shadows casting an army of demented branches, muddled up into aportrait of madness. The hints of moon that could be seen in the cloudy skydisplayed as nothing but an ominous slice of light: a mere tease in theterrifying darkness. It was like a set, something unreal plucked out of themost cliché of horror movies, but it was real and that was enough to make tiredtropes truly terrifying.

“See, just a depository for dead people erected solely to appeasethe irrational religious beliefs of society,” Gyro stated matter-of-factly,crossing his arms over his chest casually as though his heart wasn’t literallyabout to leap right out of it.

Mark rolled his eyes at the pompous display. “Whatever yousay, professor,” he mumbled. He jumped sharply when a soft rustling in the darkthat answered him instead of Gyro. “Did you hear that?” Mark squeaked.  

“What, you scared or something?” Gyro taunted. Quitefrankly, it made him feel better about his own fear to bother Mark about his.

Mark’s feathers puffed on cue. Gyro knew they would, thesmug bastard, but that didn’t stop Mark from going on the defensive. “Of thislame spooksville? As if!”

Gyro didn’t say anything, not so much as a hint of laughter,but he might as well have been cackling manically. He didn’t even look back ashe began a slow trek into the foreboding landscape, and that crude brush-offinfuriated Mark more than a real retort ever could. He didn’t retaliate –that wasexactly what Gyro wanted, after all—but his silent seething provided more thanenough satisfaction.

They occupied themselves with investigating the tombstones,argument pushed aside to allow frayed nerves to settle on something less agitating.Just to the far wall and back and this stupid bet would be satisfied.

The age of those markers shifted like fluid with each stepfurther into the cemetery, as if stepping back through time itself so smoothlythat one couldn’t even tell they were no longer in the right century. The olderthe graves got the more ominous they looked and the more it felt as if theiroccupants would simply rise from the ground and drag any trespassers with themto hell. The rows of crumbling stone were no longer organized and well caredfor. Any people who might wish to visit long were ago buried alongside theirkin, leaving nothing behind but markers of stone and iron to indicate they wereever there at all. A mossy pile of decaying rock was all that was left to markthe final resting place of many poor souls, while others still boasted toweringmonuments, guardians with their angelic features twisted by time into abstract monstrosities.

Mark swallowed at the terrified knot in his throat, but nomatter how hard he tried it proved too tremendous to gulp down. He clung to hisphone with trembling fingers, pointing its flashlight ahead of his every steplike a cross to banish evil. A boring bunch of rocks didn’t make for the bestdistraction, but Mark did his best with what he had.

“What do you suppose this dude’s story is?” Mark asked,pointing down at the grave near his feet.

“Sorry, I left my Ouija board at home,” Gyro said with anexaggerated roll of his eyes.

He scoffed at Mark when an investigation of his silencerevealed the other man to be currently predisposed with yet more social medianonsense, using a tube of red lipstick (that Gyro truly did not want to know whyhe had) to turn the dearly departed’s surname from “Buttshide” into “here liesButts”.

Gyro had never felt second hand shame so intensely in hislife. He could swear the entire graveyard was judging him from bringing such aloser into their domain. “What are you, five?”

“Yeah, wellll I wish you were five!” Mark snapped back. “Youwere actually fun when you were five! Was before you had that ginormous stickup your butt,” he concluded, turning his beak skyward in a very snottypunctuation.

In an instant the snooty demeanor was dropped to allow Markhis oh-so important task of documenting the journey via selfie timeline. It madeGyro scowl harder as he watched the parrot demean himself even further bygiving bunny ears to a headstone. “I loathe you, you know that right?” he said,but those words were not demonstrated in what came next.

A soft snap echoed in the dark. A twig rustled by an animalmost likely, but the logic of that couldn’t quite stick; in that fog filledevening, it was most certainly the breaking of bones, some animal gnawing inthe night, perhaps even a creature of such unknown horror that they couldn’teven fathom its likeness even in the most heinous of nightmares, but it was mostdefinitely something wicked.

Be it stick or monster, it had Gyro in full flight responsemode, cringing close to Mark as the other man did the same to him. “What wasthat?” Gyro squeaked.

“Totally not a horrendous monster,” Mark whimpered. “I mean,that would be super lame, right?”

Gyro actually tried to be comforted by Mark’s absurdlyinadequate attempt at a dismissive laugh, but it proved quite foolish to eventry. “It’d be preposterous.”

The night mocked him with a far more disturbing sound, likedeath itself clawing at a grave. They stood shoulder to shoulder, wanting torun but too terrified to move.

“Gyro?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Is it bad that I reallywanna hold your hand right now?”

Yet another eerie sound pierced the night, and Gyro’sfingers answered for him, quivering digits entwining tightly with Mark’s. Hegripped tighter when a dark shadow darted through the misty graves, but Marktook it one step further by clinging to Gyro’s entire arm when that same inkyfigure got closer and its hideous noises along with it.  

“What the hell isthat thing?!” Mark hissed in a panicked whisper.

“N-nothing, because it’s not real!”

That entity swept closer, moved faster, and growled louder. Theywere being surrounded, voices whispering from all directions and death droolingdown their necks, famished for their flesh. A typically effeminate scream burstfree as Gyro launched himself into the embrace of the man beside him, holdingon as if his life truly depended on it.

“WHAT?!” Mark asked, the pure terror seething from his voiceas he frantically scanned their surroundings with wide, petrified eyes.  

“It touched my butt!!”

“Oh, great a horny ghost! Just what we need. We can get laidbefore we die!”

Gyro did not appreciate the sarcasm. “Hey, don’t get pissyat me just because my ass is so fine that the even the afterlife can’t resistit!”

“THAT pathetic thing? It’s already living in the afterlife!”

“What does that even mean?!”

“I don’t know! I’m nervous, okay?!”

Another sound, this time louder and more sinister than allthe others, had Mark crying pathetically. “Gyro, if we die I just want you toknow that I never hated you as much as I said!” he wailed as he cowered intothe other man. “I just wanted you to think I was cool!”

“That’s stupid,” Gyro replied in the calmest tone he couldmuster, “We’re not gonna die…and I’m physically incapable of thinking you’recool.”

All at once the graveyard grew silent. Mark and Gyrostiffened in the eerie quiet, both feeling the presence behind them but neitherdaring to face it. They could hear it drooling, feel its breath, sense itsfamished growls, but it couldn’t really be there… could it?

It was Mark that actually looked first, turning slowly ashis eyes widened and his entire body quivered. It was large and menacing, andin that inky darkness it was easily eight feet tall and capable of breakingthem both in half. Blood red eyes pieced through the night and wet fangsglistened. Mark could swear he saw it lick its drooling maw, but he wasn’tabout to stick around and find out what that meant. He took off before he evennoticed that Gyro had thrown himself into his arms, but the hitchhiker didn’teven phase his stride, and they clung to each other, screaming in unison theentire way out of the cemetery. Gyro had to give Mark one thing, he was prettysure he’d win the fleeing for your life contest.

Behind them the monster cackled, maniacal laugher quickly devolvinginto elated gasps for air that struggled to allow enough room to actuallybreath.

“I can’t take it,” Falcon wheezed as he watched them, flee. “They’retoo adorable.”

Falcon pulled the mask from his face, slipping from theoversized ratty mass of fur that he normally wouldn’t let anywhere near him ashe dropped himself to the ground beside the smaller man who had been assistinghis deception. He lit a cigarette, leaning against the large gravestone behindhim and still chuckling lightly as he released the fumes into the cold night. Callit foolish self-indulgence, but when this opportunity had presented itself,Falcon couldn’t resist, and he was sure he had never laughed so hard in hislife.

“Dr. Gearloose is gonna killme when he finds out about this. You know he will find out about this right?!This was a terrible idea!!” Fenton answered, his tone growing more franticuntil he was waving his arms hysterically by the end of it.

Falcon chuckled at his partner in crime. He would likely beforever grateful that Fenton had been steamed enough at his boss to even offertechnical assistance and tipsy enough to actually go through with it. “No itwasn’t,” he answered simply.  “This was bloodybrilliant.”

Immediately outside the gate both Gyro and Mark were pantingfor air, the latter asking himself how Gyro was so out of breath when he hadbeen doing all the running.

Gyro was oblivious to the annoyed look as he smoothed hisjacket and cleared his throat. “Now, when everyone else asks-”

“Oh, dude we were total badasses. Hashtag crushed it.”

“Very good.”

The wind let forth a gust, laughing at the irony as it movedthe heavy iron gate behind them just enough to make both Gyro and Mark shriekin fear and back a good distance away.

Mark gulped nervously. “…Gyro?” The other bird looked hisway uncertainly. “Will you hold my hand on the way back?”

Gyro sighed. “You do realize this is supremely pathetic.”

“…does that mean yes?”

The second sigh was even more pronounced. “Yes.”

They instantly linked fingers, both holding tighter thanthey would like to admit as they braved the dark walk back to the party. Patheticit may be, but it sure did make them both feel better.