#usually i'd throw on a bit more angst by including childhood trauma

[louthegreatfurrry]

for the writing meme: Clarvin, wings :D

This became some 800 words long so I’ll have it underneath the cut.

Wings; noun; a modified forelimb that bears large feathers and is used for flying.

Coincidentally, it is also what you grow when you are loved.

*

Almost all the animals in the Huckybucky Forest have wings – the bears (Bernie Jr. especially), the squirrels, the hares, Morten and his Grandmother and Claus –

what sort of wings depend on the animal, of course – the squirrels have bushy, big things that are nearly too heavy to fly with – the bears’ are large and robust but still lithe – the mice’s are just small and delicate –

damn, even Horace the Hedgehog has wings because he loves himself.

Marvin prefers not to dwell on the fact that his wings are – are ugly and broken and barely something to be called wings. 

Instead of dwelling, he looks at the wings the other animals have. Bernie Jr. has the largest pair, the young cub being adored by the entire Forest – he’s rivaled only by Morten, whose wings are a nice size and a pleasant, dull gray color that looks well with his fur.

If Marvin is to rank the wings by size, Claus is near the bottom of the list. It shouldn’t surprise him – no one actually… loves Claus, not the same way they love Morten or Bernie Jr. They like him, sure, but –

(he still has wings is still loved can still take flight if he wishes and he has wings)

Marvin prefers not to dwell too much on that, either.

*

Then – that day comes. The day Morten writes his Law – the Law that makes life so much harder.

And through a series of unfortunate events

(Marvin, the unfortunate series of events is Marvin, will probably always be Marvin, God, he’s such a wreck –)

Bernie Jr. is kidnapped.

Marvin is blamed, of course.

(Of course he’s blamed of course he’s blamed of course he’s blamed)

(he’s a fox)

But for once he’s able to help, so he does, they figure out that Bernie Jr. is at the Farm, and a rescue is planned –

and –

Claus volunteers to help, essentially risking his life.

(Brave, precious Claus who’s just as broken as Marvin, who finds just as much joy in their runs as Marvin, who Marvin is so afraid of falling in love with because of the blasted wings -)

(The fact that Morten volunteers as well isn’t nearly as important.)

So Marvin follows them. Because he just can’t keep his nose out of other people’s business.

Well, it’s a good thing he does, because Morten would’ve died otherwise. The idiot gets stuck in the root of a tree, apparently forgetting that he has wings, and Marvin has to swoop in and save the day before the farmers’ dog can – can - 

(God he must look like a monster, the joke that is his wings on his back, hackles raised and hissing angrily –)

(he’s – not quite frightening enough to scare Hannibal off, though, and he has to – has to –)

(Hannibal almost dies.)

(But at least Morten lives.)

When Hannibal finally flees the scene, whimpering pathetically, Marvin sinks to his knees and pants –

(Pieces of his shattered heart at the back of his tongue; he can’t believe what he’s just done, what he almost became, he deserves his gross excuse of wings -)

– and the transition is almost seamless, almost painless, one moment without wings and the next he’s sprouted feathers that fall down over his face and into his eyes, large feathers, beautiful feathers, feathers –

he startles, eyes widening –

(wings means love wings means love wings means love)

(the color isn’t right, it’s not supposed to be like that, not supposed to be brownish black with white spots –, there are approximately two animals in the forest that can – )

Marvin turns before the thought completes itself, stumbling, off-balance –

Claus is standing a few meters away from him, eyes wide and chest heaving –

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, and then he looks shocked at his own words, “I’m sorry, I – I – ”

“What,” Marvin stutters, slowly pushing himself to his knees – he feels like he might burst, he doesn’t believe it, can’t believe it, but -

(he wants to hope wants to hope he deserves to have some damned hope)

– “What sort of love?”

Claus stutters something, desperately, then breaks off and curses to himself –

“Romantic,” Morten’s quiet voice pipes up, the moron still stuck underneath the root. Marvin looks down at him in surprise. Morten looks just as surprised as him. “He’s been talking nonstop about you.” Morten’s gaze flickers to Claus then back. “I never thought he was serious.”

(romantic romantic romantic)

Marvin twists back to look at Claus – “What?” he breathes. “Really?”

Claus hesitates –

(the hope begins to shatter)

– and – nods. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I know you don’t – ”

(and it urges up again; Claus loves him Claus loves him)

(fuck it all fuck it all fuck it all)

(Marvin’s never quite allowed himself to think it, never quite allowed the emotions to spill any further than his heart, but now – he’s allowed - he can - it’s okay, and - )

(he loves him he does he does he does)

Marvin loves Claus and feels like he always has -

“Don’t be sorry,” Marvin whispers, and Claus’ wings grow several sizes larger, shimmering golden red underneath the sun.